by Clare Ashton
Pia inhaled the warm aroma of buttery pancakes that steamed out of the van. ‘French crepes and hot Italian coffee.’
‘That sounds perfect,’ Cate breathed.
They sat on a wall overlooking the river, their feet hanging above the water. Pia devoured the folded-up crepes. The syrupy lemon dripped through her fingers onto her paper plate. Cate licked the buttery sugar from her fingers and Pia giggled at her obvious enjoyment.
Pia hugged the fresh coffee to her chest. She inhaled the strong roasted vapours and sipped the scorching drink. The hit of coffee filled her mouth and nose and she gasped out with satisfaction. ‘Why does food taste so much better when you’re outside?’
‘And after an invigorating swim,’ Cate added with a smile.
They were silent for a while. Cate looked away across the Thames to the flickering lights of the Houses of Parliament downstream. Pia allowed her to have her peace and watched a ferry chopping through the waters.
‘Do you want children?’ Cate asked.
‘Bloody hell, that’s quite a question.’ Pia spluttered.
‘Sorry it is, isn’t it? I just wondered.’
‘Because I’m gay and it’s something you have to think about more if you’re gay?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Do you want kids?’ Pia asked.
‘I don’t know.’ Cate looked troubled. ‘I think I did. You see, I was always made aware of how much trouble I was to my mother. And I’ve never met anyone who wanted to have children with me.’
Pia was lost for words. She couldn’t think why someone wouldn’t want to have a family with a woman like Cate.
‘It’s so difficult,’ Cate continued. ‘All those trade-offs. Do you find someone who’s your best friend, or your best lover? Someone rich, intelligent, who wants the same as you, or someone who wants a family?’
Pia remained quiet. She had never thought of it like that. She thought that when she met the right person it would feel right.
‘What about you?’ Cate said. ‘You didn’t say if you wanted children.’
‘Oh, I would love kids.’ Pia beamed. ‘Always have.’ She put her hands either side of her thighs and kicked out her feet in enthusiasm.
‘What kind?’ Cate asked.
‘Stripy ones.’
Cate laughed. ‘I mean, do you want a boy or a girl?’
‘Don’t care. Happy healthy ones. Lots of them.’
Cate seemed caught up by her enthusiasm. ‘I always pictured myself having two boys. I don’t know why. It’s one of those fleeting images you sometimes have when you picture how your life might be. It’s my first thought when someone says the future.’
‘Would that make you happy?’
‘Yes it would,’ Cate said, lifting a sad smile to Pia, her watery eyes sparkling in the streetlight.
‘What else is in your future?’ Pia found herself more than a little interested in Cate’s ideal life.
‘Do you mean in that fleeting image?’
‘Yes,’
‘I don’t know,’ Cate said, an expression of surprise and confusion on her face. ‘I can’t see anything else. But I’m happy. I’m content and it’s not just because of the boys. There’s a feeling of security and love.’
‘From a partner?’
‘Yes. I think it is. It’s strange I’ve never thought about that before.’ Cate’s face lifted with fond realisation. ‘Yes. I’m content. I can’t see them, but there’s someone in the background I love and trust. Someone who makes me feel good about who I am. Someone who makes me happy.’ She turned back to Pia, her face full of wonderment.
Pia’s face flushed with happiness. ‘That sounds like a wonderful life.’
Cate’s eyes searched Pia’s. ‘I’d like very much to—’
A message alert, loud and harsh, interrupted their conversation. Pia’s feeling of warmth slipped away as they stared at Cate’s glowing phone. Cate tapped the screen. The light was extinguished and the phone was silent. But a chill had settled. Without speaking, Cate handed back the denim jacket and Pia folded it away. They swung their legs around and dropped down to the pavement.
Pia’s chest felt like it might implode. Cate stood before her, her face full of reluctance and sorrow.
‘I have to...’
‘I know,’ Pia whispered.
Pia didn’t know what to do: revel in the exhilaration that the night had been or cry now that Cate was leaving for good. She shuffled and pushed her hands into her pockets, torn between reaching out and holding Cate tight or offering to shake hands in somber farewell.
‘You have given me an incredible evening.’ Cate’s voice was quiet. ‘Better than any I could have planned for myself.’
Pia couldn’t respond. She stared at her feet, her stupid feet that wouldn’t stop shuffling like an awkward teenager’s. She felt Cate’s soft fingers touch her cheek, enticing her to lift her face. Pia didn’t dare catch Cate’s gaze and she closed her eyes. Cate’s full lips caressed her cheek in a soft kiss, just close enough to the crease of her mouth for her lips to tingle with desire.
‘Goodbye,’ Cate whispered and Pia heard footsteps click behind her and recede down the river.
Pia heaved with strained breaths. She willed herself not to turn around, fearing her heart would break if she saw Cate walk away.
‘Oh God.’ She covered her mouth with her hand. She felt nauseous that such a woman was walking out of her life.
‘Start walking,’ she commanded. ‘Don’t look back. Walk.’
She concentrated on one step at a time. One heavy left foot and then the right. The walkway filled with people. Blurred silhouettes emerged from the bright lights of the Festival Hall. The air filled with excited post-concert chatter, and animated figures buffeted Pia, dazed in the flow.
The streetlights, dark figures, jugglers and buskers were a bright and noisy blur. She cowered in the harsh atmosphere of pleasure. Her throat began to choke. With every step she felt the loss of Cate heavier inside. It was only now that she realised how close they had become in such a few vivid hours. The thought that she would never see her again strangled her. Her breaths were short and harsh. Hot tears threatened.
And then she felt Cate’s soft fingers slip between hers.
‘Come with me,’ Cate whispered.
Lightness flooded through Pia. Her legs buzzed with energy and felt as if they could float. Wide-eyed with awe she watched Cate’s figure walk ahead, and trembling with anticipation she let her sweep her away.
Chapter 7.
They stumbled through the balmy night, following the river along the tree-lined avenue. Cate never let go of Pia’s hand. The touch of their bare arms was tantalising and Pia’s heart thumped with anticipation.
Cate didn’t say a word, not even when they turned off the Strand down a side street. Pia’s heart raced that bit quicker when she saw the Savoy Hotel, its golden statue with shield and spear presiding over the grand canopy entrance.
Cate released her hand and was swept inside through ornate rotating doors. Pia followed and tripped into the great hall. She watched Cate glide across the chequered floor to reception, and stared around the hall, her mouth open wide.
It was like an old glamorous film, perhaps a setting for an Agatha Christie story. Well-heeled guests dotted the leather sofas waiting for their spouses, and murmuring couples in evening wear disappeared out of view into a soft-lit bar. Pia spun around in the middle of the generous room, taking in the details, until her eyes locked with those of the doorman’s.
He stood to attention under his top hat, his lips curled in a smile beneath his moustache. ‘Forgotten your luggage?’
Pia didn’t have time to blush before she felt Cate’s fingers around her arm. She looked back once to see the doorman wink and she was whisked away.
Cate rattled the key in the door to the Monet suite, peered around the corridor and led Pia inside. The door clicked behind them and they stood in darkness. The city glowed outside, the lit Ferris
wheel of the London Eye across the river peeking in through the window.
Cate’s body was dark in the middle of the sitting room. Pia reached out, tentative, her sight not yet adjusted to the room. Her fingers brushed against Cate’s forearm, and she stroked down her skin to find and hold her hand.
‘You’re shaking,’ Pia said.
‘It’s been a long time since I slept with a woman,’ Cate whispered.
Pia clasped Cate’s hands, squeezing them with gentle reassurance. Together they edged towards the bedroom, the same view glimmering through the window. Neither said a word as they stopped by the bed. Its sheets lay smooth and inviting, waiting for them.
Only their hands touched. Cate’s face and body were indistinct, but Pia could feel her warmth, that sensation of someone near wanting to be closer still. She could hear Cate inhale, her gasps shallow but quick with excitement. The silhouette of her slim shoulders rose and fell with longing breaths.
Pia drew near. Cate’s sigh was moist on her skin. She could taste her as they breathed into one another. Their lips touched, and the excitement of that first intimate sensation shot down her neck, through her chest and breasts. She closed her eyes as Cate’s lips slipped hot over hers. They kissed deeply and Pia salivated at the sensuous contact.
With reluctance but necessity she drew back, enough for their lips to part. She reached up to Cate’s dress and unclipped the strap from around her shoulder. The material fell fluidly from her, caressing every curve as it fell. Pia stared down at Cate’s naked body, the soft light touching her full breasts, her slim belly in shadow. With the lightest of touch, Pia slipped her fingers around Cate’s white underwear which yielded and dropped to the floor.
She stared into Cate’s dark eyes, as she stripped off her own T-shirt, jeans and underwear and stood before her, exposed and expectant.
They stepped together at the same time. Their breasts touched for a moment and she heard Cate’s sharp intake of breath. Pia stroked around the curve of Cate’s hips and drew her close. Slowly their breasts touched and sealed together. The delicious sensation rippled around her whole body, the hair on her back tickling to attention.
Cate’s lips kissed her forehead, covered her eyelids, moved down her cheeks, urgently seeking Pia’s. She opened her mouth to receive Cate who licked her inside.
She could feel Cate’s nervous desire as she caressed her back, exploring her skin with her fingertips and pulling her closer. Their legs slipped between one another. Cate’s pubic hair tickled her thigh and arousal fluttered inside when she felt the moisture there.
She ran her fingers down Cate’s body, enjoying the full touch of this wonderful woman. She wanted to savour her, but her hands were impatient. She stroked her fingers down, through Cate’s hair, and teased along the top of her legs. She touched her hair in achingly slow circles above her clitoris. Cate quivered with every teasing stroke and Pia could feel her pushing herself into her playful hands.
‘Touch me,’ Cate whispered. ‘Please touch me.’
Pia pulled Cate’s body tight and with delicious and complete enjoyment, slipped her fingertip between Cate’s lips. Cate’s body tensed rigid at the touch. Her clitoris was swollen and firm. Pia’s fingers touched round and round, feeling Cate’s clitoris and enveloping lips inflame.
Cate’s urgent panting gave away how close she was. Pia moistened at Cate’s sensuous and erotic response. She could smell Cate’s fresh sweat and moisture, warmed by her aroused body.
It was almost involuntary, the strong compulsion to kiss Cate’s breasts and down the line of her stomach. She guided Cate towards the bed and sat her at the edge. She knelt down and gently touched her face to reassure her.
‘I want to kiss you,’ she whispered.
Cate’s gasp was all the sanction she needed. Pia enticed her legs apart. She leaned down to nuzzle around her hairline, her head beginning to daze with Cate’s scent. Pia licked at her wet hair enjoying her taste and flicked her tongue around Cate’s lips.
Cate trembled, as if the slightest touch would take her over. Pia hesitated, enjoying the fragrance once more and the feel of Cate’s smooth thighs around her face. And then she opened her mouth and kissed Cate’s clitoris.
Cate groaned and thrust herself forward. Pia pulled her tight to her face. She kept Cate’s clitoris squeezed between her lips as she came, licking her tenderly as her orgasm seized her.
Delirious with arousal, Pia half registered Cate lift her face and take her arms. Gentle and expert hands manoeuvred Pia to the bed. Practised lips teased around her breasts and Pia moaned as the teasing became firmer and Cate nibbled her.
Fingers caressed down her stomach. Greedy kisses sent pulses of excitement through her body. She was beyond thought when Cate’s tongue parted her hair and slipped deep inside her.
She arched her back and cried out. Cate clasped her breast, pushing her into the soft sheets. The sensation of her breast being squeezed with passion and Cate’s mouth sliding up to lick her clitoris triggered the first waves of her orgasm. Cate pushed her face deep into her moisture and Pia closed her eyes as the surge of pleasure and tension gripped her body and consumed her thoughts.
Disoriented in the darkness and hazy with the flood of hormones, she was only half-aware of Cate caressing her way back to her. Uncontrolled and clumsy, they kissed and wrapped their limbs around each other in a tender, satiated embrace.
They roused in the middle of the night. Loving hands reached out and bodies entwined to make love again.
And it was still dark when Pia thought she heard Cate whisper: ‘You gave me quite the surprise Pia Benitez-Smith, and I don’t think I’ll ever recover.’
Chapter 8.
Pia woke in a peculiar state of both clarity and confusion. The room was bright and sharp with morning sunshine and the white walls dazzled her. She didn’t know what had woken her, but she had switched from pleasant slumber to alert in an instant. She checked around the bedroom. She knew Cate had gone, but she didn’t know why and where and whether she would see her again.
As she stared at the incomparable view of the Thames and London skyline, she realised she was in shock. She had never thought she would achieve her dream of staying at the Savoy and a night of passion with a woman so extraordinary. But now, she wasn’t certain that the woman of her dreams hadn’t been just that.
She rubbed her fingers through her short hair, which stuck up with an impressive mix of tree, lake and Cate. Pia covered her face with her hands and rubbed her eyes. She sighed at the wonderful aroma that scented her fingers. Certainly not a dream.
As she came to from its euphoric effect, she stared half-focussed at the rug. A piece of white card, torn at one edge, came into focus. When she picked it up, she recognised it as a business card. ‘Catherine Gillespie’ was written in bright blue ink next to a silhouette of a woman’s head and a company name of ‘Bennet’. She swept over the card for a telephone number or email address, but that half of the card was missing, and the small typed letters that teased at the frayed edge were a string of ‘x’s. On the back was scrawled a note: ‘What do you think?’ Even more confused than before, she dressed and slipped the fragment of card into her jeans pocket.
The hotel entrance bustled with guests leaving or making their way to a late breakfast. Pia shuffled through and hesitated by the reception desk. Should she check that Cate had paid? A flutter of apprehension agitated her chest as she thought about the cost of a Thames-view suite at the Savoy.
‘You wouldn’t be thinking of doing a runner would you?’ a deep voice said behind her.
When she turned round, the doorman smiled at her from beneath his moustache, with the same twinkle in his eye as the night before, although he looked a great deal more tired.
‘Um. I. Don’t know if I. Might not have enough…’ Pia stammered.
‘It’s all right love. She paid before she left.’
Pia held her breath, her pregnant questions threatening to burst out. When did she leave
? Was she all right? Did she leave an address or telephone number? She looked from the doorman to the receptionist, frustrated that they had the answers, but were unable to tell her.
‘The course of true love never did run smooth,’ the doorman said, raising his eyebrows, and he bid her farewell with a kind wink.
Pia wandered dazed through the noisy weekend streets, almost missed her stop on the Tube and emerged in Brixton some unknown time later. Her body knew the way home and it took her on automatic out of the Tube station and along Electric Avenue.
Little by little the market street’s assault on her senses broke through to her consciousness. The sounds of reggae, hip hop and soul all mixed in the narrow street. She passed fresh fish stalls with whole specimens staring out glassy-eyed. The fusion of pungent exotic fruit and vegetables warmed by the sun lifted her mood. As she detoured through Brixton village, the mix of faces, cultures, ages and classes welcomed her home. She was smiling when she reached the door of the small terraced house that she shared with her mother.
The smell of chorizo and smoked paprika lingered cold in the air from last night’s dinner.
‘Shit.’ Pia rushed through the cramped sitting room, out into the tiny kitchen and through the open door into the garden. ‘Mama?’
She ducked under the arbour, dodging the swollen bunches of grapes and tendrils of soft leaves. She peered around the small garden. It was bursting with runner beans, trailing squash that clung to the fences and tomato plants that looked so big they could walk off into a science fiction film.
‘Mija? Is that you?’ Her mother’s voice, heavy with accent, called from the back of the garden.
Pia pulled back a large silver artichoke leaf and found her mother on a bench. All middle-aged motherly curves with streaks of grey lining her chestnut hair, she was attending a small orange tree in a pot.
‘Mama, lo siento.’
