Nightingale

by Andrea Bramhall

  “Better bring in the straitjacket.”

  Charlie’s mouth closed over the nipple. Hazaar pressed her fingers into Charlie’s hair and tried to pull her closer. She opened her mouth wider and pulled in more of the pliant flesh. Her tongue raked across the swollen tip as her fingers skated across the goose-bumped flesh of her stomach and thigh. Hazaar opened her legs and twisted her body in an attempt to gain contact with Charlie at her centre. Charlie lifted her head and grinned at her.

  “Why so impatient?” She blew across the soaked nipple, and her smile widened as Hazaar jumped, her hips thrusting off the bed.

  Her voice was thick with her desire as she opened her eyes. “I don’t think I can take anymore.”

  Charlie slowly inched her way up Hazaar’s inner thigh.

  Hazaar immediately opened her legs wider. “Please.”

  The word, a whispered plea between them, brought Hazaar’s desire into sharp focus. The scent of her arousal reached Charlie and she was lost.

  She moved quickly and her mouth watered as she neared her goal. She glanced up to see Hazaar watching her, her chest heaving as she tried to pull enough air into her lungs. She watched as Charlie licked her lips, then her head fell back against the pillow with a guttural cry as Charlie’s mouth covered her.

  Charlie felt her own excitement spreading down her thighs as she took her first taste of Hazaar’s sweetness. She closed her eyes after she saw Hazaar wrap her fingers around the spindle of the headboard. She held Hazaar’s hips to hold her still as she feasted, too aroused to go slowly and too hungry to be gentle. She sucked and licked the velvet flesh as though she had starved for it all her life, barely able to hear Hazaar’s cries as ecstasy claimed her again and again.

  When the tremors finally subsided, Hazaar stroked her fingers down the soft, pale cheek and placed a kiss against her lips.

  “Wow.” Charlie grinned.

  “I’ll second that.” Hazaar’s smile was gentle, warming the deep chocolate brown of her eyes.

  “Does Hazaar really mean ‘nightingale’ in Arabic?”

  “Yes.” She smiled. “Did you think it was just a chat-up line?”

  Charlie felt her cheeks burning, and Hazaar laughed. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe I should remember that in future.” She turned Charlie’s hand over and kissed her wrist where her pulse began to increase the tattoo it was beating.

  “Maybe,” she whispered as she captured Hazaar’s lips with her own.

  Chapter Three

  The North of England, then

  Charlie stretched her arms above her head and winced slightly at the ache of her muscles, then smiled as she recalled the reason why they ached. She opened her eyes slowly and looked around. The room was silent and the bed empty. She listened intently for sounds in the other rooms, then turned to look at the clock. Nine forty-five. She closed her eyes again and let her head sink back against the pillow.

  It took another ten minutes before nature roused her from the bed. She flung the covers from her body and glanced around to find something to wear. Her clothes had been neatly folded and placed on the dresser on the other side of the room. She quickly plucked her shirt from the pile and wrapped it around her shoulders, taking in the details of the room for the first time. Tasteful, neutral colours decorated the walls and carpet, and the bold swatches of red and gold curtains, wall art, and cushions that would normally have adorned the bed now lay exiled upon the carpet.

  She slipped from the room hoping to find Hazaar sitting on the couch or drinking coffee in the kitchen, but the apartment was empty, and Charlie felt a swift stab of disappointment. She made her way to the bathroom, taking the time to look around as she crossed the room. Neutral walls again, this time accented by a rich seascape at sunset painting which hung above the fireplace. The reds, purples, and oranges were so vibrant that the ocean seemed alive, the waves appeared to crash against the canvas, and it held Charlie enthralled. She felt slightly subdued until she reached the bathroom and saw the note stuck on the mirror.

  Morning Charlie,

  Hope you slept well. You looked so peaceful this morning that I couldn’t wake you. Please feel free to use whatever you like, shower, bath, breakfast, whatever. I won’t be home until about seven this evening. You can hang around if you have no plans, if you like. If not, I hope you’ll call. My mobile is 07876641652.

  I really hope I hear from you.

  Soon.

  Hazaar

  XO

  A fresh towel was folded neatly over the radiator for her. Shampoo, conditioner, and shower gel were on the tiled windowsill, which acted as a shelf for the bath and shower. She showered quickly and headed back to the bedroom.

  Twenty minutes later, she was dressed and pulling the covers straight on the bed. She smiled again as she checked that the note was in her bag and headed back into the living room. She looked for a piece of paper but couldn’t see anything, and unwilling to search through draws and cupboards, she pulled sheet music and a pencil from her bag and wrote across the top of the page.

  Call to arrange returning my music, 07799114430 x

  She left the pages on top of the piano, then slung her bag across her shoulder and left.

  The bus journey home passed quickly for Charlie, her mind on the amazing night with Hazaar. It was almost lunchtime when she arrived home to find her younger sister, Beth, draped over the sofa watching TV. Lights shone throughout the house, but she knew that Beth was the only one in. She tossed her bag over the banister and hung up her coat, flicking off the lightswitch as she passed on her way to the kitchen, ruffling her sister’s spiked hair as she went.

  “All right, Flipper?” All she got in return was a muted grunt.

  Charlie put the kettle on to boil and spooned coffee granules and sugar into two mugs before Beth appeared in the doorway.

  “Can you stop calling me Flipper?” Beth hopped up onto the kitchen counter.

  “Probably not.” The nickname had been formed even before Beth had been born. Charlie was eight when their mum had found out she was pregnant with Beth. At the twelve-week scan, Charlie had looked at the picture and decided that it looked like a little dolphin jumping in the water, probably as her favourite program had been Flipper. Charlie had used the name ever since for her little sister. It was something they argued about but both secretly loved, a special bond between them.

  “How did the audition go?”

  “Okay, I guess.”

  “Did you do the Les Misérables piece?”

  Charlie shook her head as she poured water into the mugs. “Can you get the milk? No, I did the Norah Jones piece. ‘Nightingale.’”

  “Why?”

  “I heard the guy doing the auditions was sick of show tunes, so I thought something different might go down better.”

  “Did it?”

  “He certainly seemed pleased.” She shrugged. “Just have to wait and see.”

  “When will you know?”

  “Soon, I hope.” She poured milk into the cups, then handed the bottle back to Beth. They took their mugs back to the living room, where they sat on the same sofa and Beth stretched her legs across Charlie’s lap. A slow grin spread across Beth’s face, her blue eyes twinkling mischievously.

  “And why weren’t you home last night to tell me all this?” Her grin widened as Charlie started to blush. “Mum and Dad were really worried. They tried your mobile and everything, but apparently, it was off.” Charlie’s blush turned crimson as she recalled running naked across Hazaar’s living room, grabbing her phone out of her bag and turning it off, then being greeted by Hazaar’s hands turning her around, pulling her down to the floor, and ravishing her again.

  Beth was laughing. “Worth it then, was it?” She tried to look nonchalant as she sipped her coffee. “So who was it? Not the redhead you went out with a couple of weeks ago. Please not her. She was freaky. Please tell me it wasn’t her.”

  “Paula?” Charlie smiled as Beth nodded. “No, not her. That wa
s a single blind date. That’s all.”

  Beth waited, her eyebrows raised expectantly. “Aw, come on. You gotta tell me.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cos I’m sixteen and I’ve got no life of my own.”

  “You’re sixteen. You aren’t supposed to have a life of your own.”

  “Aw, Charlie, please. Dearest. Bestest. Kindest. Wisest big sister ever.” Beth shifted and leaned her head against Charlie’s shoulder, looking up at her with big sad eyes. “Please take pity on your little Flipper.” Her grin turned mischievous again. “Go on. Give us a thrill!”

  Charlie started laughing. “It’s no one you know. She’s someone I just met.”

  “How just met?” Beth’s eyes were twinkling. “Like just met yesterday? Like that just met?”

  Beth howled with laughter, and Charlie could feel the heat in her cheeks. “Beth!”

  “I’m just teasing. It’s about time you let your hair down.” Beth smiled sincerely. “So tell me all about her.”

  Charlie sipped her coffee. “She’s called Hazaar. She’s in the final year of her degree, and she was the pianist for the auditions.”

  “So were there like, sparks flying while you were on the stage?”

  “Do you want to hear this or not?”

  Beth pretended to zip her lips closed and settled back against the sofa.

  “I got drenched on my way there, so I was in the ladies’ trying to dry off my shirt and—”

  “She came in while you were naked and you did it in the loos—” Charlie slapped her arm. “Ow!”

  “Behave. No, but she did see me without my shirt on. She’s the one who gave me the advice about the song choice. Anyway, at the end of the song she asked me to meet her for a coffee in the cafeteria. I don’t know why, but I did. Then before I knew what was happening we were at her apartment. And…”

  “Yeah. And…?”

  “And I’m telling you nothing else, you little perv!” She was laughing at the stricken look on Beth’s face.

  “You can’t do that.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “No, you can’t.”

  Charlie shook her head. “No more.”

  “Just one thing?”

  Charlie waited, making no promises.

  “Is she a good kisser?”

  Charlie’s grin widened, and she leaned closer to Beth’s ear. “Better than you could ever imagine.”

  It had always been easy between them. The age gap made it easy for the older Charlie to dote on the real-life baby doll her parents had thoughtfully provided for her, and Beth had an older sibling who didn’t try to beat her to a pulp, like her friends had, which was a major respect earner. As they had gotten older, Charlie had begun to realize her sexuality, and it had been Beth who had comforted her and given her the strength and unconditional love she had needed to be honest with herself about her true feelings. When she had told Beth years earlier, it had been easy, even with the avalanche of questions that were Beth’s trademark.

  “So who’s prettier? Me, Angelina Jolie, or Cameron Diaz?”

  “Easy. You’re the prettiest, but the most fanciable for me has to be Angelina.”

  “I can live with that. Okay, house rules are, no trogs…”

  “What’s a trog?”

  “Like, someone who totally doesn’t deserve you, ugly inside and out.” Her expression was totally serious, and Charlie wondered at the youth who thought such things and wondered, not for the first time, just what Beth would become when she grew up.

  “Point taken.”

  “Number two. No one prettier than me.”

  “Not possible to find anyone prettier than you.”

  “Number three.” Beth paused. “I want to be there when you tell Mum and Dad.” She jumped off the bed and raced out the door. Charlie caught her just as she called for their parents.

  “Hello! Earth to space cadet!”

  Charlie shook her head as she tried to focus again on what Beth was saying to her.

  “Where did you go then? Memories from last night perhaps?” She wiggled her eyebrows wickedly.

  “No, of you, actually.”

  Beth rolled her eyes. “Boring! So anyway, I was saying, are you going to see her again?”

  “I hope so.” She ruffled Beth’s black spikes again and took another sip of her coffee.

  “Oh, post came earlier. There’s some for you.” Beth leaned forward and tossed several envelopes into her lap. The first three were junk that she tore into pieces and set aside for the bin. The fourth one caught her eye as Beth picked up the remote control and began flicking through channels. She turned it in her palms several times before she tore it open. It was postmarked from the day before. It was here already. She couldn’t believe it. Beth was looking at her.

  Charlie held it out to her. “Read it to me.”

  Beth took the folded page from her shaking hands. “What is—oh.” She saw the letterhead paper. “Bloody hell, that’s fast. It got home before you did.” She giggled nervously. “You sure?” Charlie nodded. “Okay. ‘Dear Miss Porter. I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for your audition. Your choice of audition piece was extremely refreshing, and your love for the piece shone through in your performance. I would, however, have liked a more complete example of your full range.’ Jesus, why doesn’t he just get to the point?”

  Charlie frowned. “Just read it.”

  “Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “‘Even so, I am delighted to offer you a place in September’s class. All details and necessary paperwork will be sent to you in due course. I look forward to seeing you in September and thank you again for a very refreshing break in an otherwise tedious day. Yours, Professor Swallen.’”

  Charlie jumped to her feet and danced around the room.

  Beth bounced on the sofa. “How cool is that?”

  Charlie couldn’t speak. She couldn’t find the words. She grabbed Beth and they jumped around together until they ended in a heap on the floor.

  “You know what this means?”

  Beth’s grin widened as she nodded. “Party?”

  Charlie shook her head. “Nope.”

  Beth’s grin shrank. “Pizza?”

  “Nope.”

  Beth’s grin slid to a smile. “Pub?”

  “Nope. You get the big bedroom in September.”

  Now it was Beth’s turn to be speechless, for a second, anyway. “Any chance you can start next week?”

  Charlie swiped her hand across the back of Beth’s head.

  “Watch it. I’ll get brain damage!”

  “Too late.”

  “Bitch!”

  “Language, Elizabeth Porter.” They both started and stared at the open door and the scowling figure of their mother.

  “Sorry, Mum!” Beth dropped her head and looked sheepish.

  “So, what’s with Tigger over there?” She peeled her gloves off and tossed them on the table with her keys as she looked at Charlie. Charlie held the letter out to her mother and watched as her head dipped while she read. Tears sprung to her mum’s eyes as she pulled her into a tight embrace. “I’m so proud of you. I can’t believe how quick this got here.” She stroked Charlie’s back and kissed her cheeks. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “Mum, can I paint the room black when she goes?” Beth asked.

  “No!” They looked at her as they answered in chorus.

  “So why didn’t you ring me when the post came?”

  Charlie felt her cheeks redden slightly. “I only just opened it, just before you got in.”

  “Yeah, she made me read it ’cos she was too chicken.”

  Her mother’s eyebrows were raised. “Was the post late?”

  Charlie closed her eyes and cursed the fair complexion that she knew was beet red.

  “No, Charlie was.” Beth was practically skipping around the room. Charlie tried to think of something to say through her embarrassment, but her mouth kept opening and closing with nothing coming out.


  “You look like a fish doing that. Have you had something to eat?” Her mother smiled easily, and Charlie was grateful to her for trying to ease her discomfort. Charlie shook her head. “Why don’t you go and get changed and I’ll make something? Bacon sandwich?”

  Charlie nodded and made her way to the stairs, as her mother grabbed hold of Beth’s hand.

  “It wasn’t the weird redhead, was it?” her mother whispered perfectly audibly. Charlie groaned and made her way up the stairs two at a time, knowing full well that Beth would tell her mother everything, and that her mother would never say a word to her. She began humming as she walked to her room, unfastening her shirt and tossing it into the laundry basket next to the pine dresser her grandmother had given her a few years ago, adamant that it was an antique. Charlie hadn’t the heart to tell her that she could see the sticker for IKEA on the underside. Her Gran was a huge fan of car boot sales and flea markets, convinced that she was going to find something that would be worth millions. Her usual finds were IKEA “antiques” and fifth-run “first editions” with pages missing.

  Charlie changed quickly into a pale blue jumper and jeans and reached the top of the stairs when her phone rang. She looked at the caller display, frowning when it said number unknown. She flipped the top and held it to her ear.

  “Hello.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.” Charlie gripped the phone tighter and her stomach did a flip.

  “You don’t recognize my voice, do you?”

  “Well, you do sound a little different when you’re not out of breath or chanting my name, but I knew it was you.”

  Hazaar laughed.

  “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon. I thought you were going to be out all day.”

  “Me too, but Swallen got through all the singers by twelve. Half of them didn’t even get to finish their songs. The man was on a mission. So I got free early. I was hoping you’d still be here when I got back.” Her voice dropped suggestively. “I was hoping to congratulate you in person.”