by Sally Bryan
“Oh, well, if we absolutely must.”
This time I casually slipped my hand inside her back pocket which, due to the lack of material, not to mention the substantial portions within, wasn’t easy but I was more than willing to take a hit trying. If this was how it felt to be intoxicated with aching lust then I never wanted the feeling to end.
My name is Freya Argyle. I was supposed to be a dour Scot, descendent of old Highland gentry, raised on oats and lawn croquet, sensible to the point of being intolerable, I spend my nights studying, my entire life is planned and predicted.
Yet here I was, in Spain, cuddling up to the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen and I couldn’t understand any of it.
We arrived on Las Ramblas, which according to the tourist brochure, was the most famous street in Barcelona. There were theatres, government buildings, the city hall, market stalls absolutely everywhere, so many flower baskets covering buildings, lampposts and even the ground that the place resembled a garden. At the far end, framed by the sea and visible from way back stood the Christopher Colombus monument, pointing west, atop a two hundred foot high plinth.
Though truthfully, it was all a haze. I knew it was all there, I just barely noticed any of it and neither did I much heed the thousands of locals and tourists and everything else that buzzed in our periphery. It was almost like Arwen and I existed in our own little world and nobody else was allowed in. There were shapes and blurs that moved and buzzed all around us, adding to the ambience as we plodded down Las Ramblas but if they noticed two young women, we didn’t notice them.
Though this level of self-awareness comes at a price. My senses had heightened to such absurd levels and I was experiencing this moment with such unfamiliar clarity that my heart was pounding extra hard from some kind of natural counteraction to the vast quantity of dopamine my brain was synthesising. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. It couldn’t last forever but in the here and now, I most certainly was existing in some kind of higher place, almost like I was looking down at myself from above.
“We’re shrouded in trees,” Arwen stated to herself and I wondered if she was experiencing the same because, sure enough, we were. “I find they can turn even the loudest of streets into a haven for the soul.” The backs of our fingers were brushing together as we plodded so lazily it’d take an hour to reach the monument. “And the birds that fly here for the summer to make this street their home … don’t you just wonder where it is they came from? And where they’ll go next?” Our little fingers linked together. “Can’t you hear them? I saw a parakeet earlier and up there I can see a crested tit.” She was referring to the tree behind me but I didn’t turn to look because we’d stopped and turned into each other, our flip flops making contact on the stone tiles, my knees literally quivering, our little fingers still entwined. “If you listen hard, you can make out the waves. Isn’t that something, the way sound travels? Would you like to hold my hand?” She asked in the exact same casual tone of the birds and the trees and the waves, like it was nothing, that it wasn’t taboo, that this next small step wasn’t really monumental and life changing at all, that it was simply a natural progression for us, that it was the next logical stage in our relationship.
And in no way had it been a surprise, I’d known it was coming and nodded without hesitation. “Yes.”
It was hardly a big leap forward to hold her hand from where we already were and our fingers seamlessly interlaced, though despite the relative ease of it all, I couldn’t stop my knees from shaking and she felt it all the way up my fingertips.
“Are you nervous?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Would you like to let go?”
“No.”
Her smile broadened and the reality of being so close to Arwen and her unearthly beauty could only ever have made me tense, timid and shy like I’d never before experienced. But all these emotions were part of whatever this was, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way because to remove the anxiety is to remove the thrill. And it was a thrill. And despite Arwen doing her best to make this gentle for me, I still knew there were implications not far ahead, major implications.
But in this moment, I would not think of that, of what was to come. I just wanted to enjoy the now.
Her hand was smaller than what I was used to, her fingers thinner. Her skin was certainly smoother too. But I’d never before experienced this kind of rush from the mere act of holding a person’s hand - That was the main difference. Was it because Arwen was a girl or because the girl was Arwen? Or both? As we continued down Las Ramblas, my main preoccupation was, what next? And it was this unknown that provided the biggest thrill of them all.
“I love all these cute little market stalls.” I knew I was speaking to take the attention away from the fact I was holding Arwen’s hand, yet conversely, I didn’t want to think about anything else. “The colours of all the apples and oranges look so much deeper in Spain. Awe, look at those.” One stall was stacked with wooden animal carvings though, in truth, I wasn’t really that interested.
Her hand squeezed mine. “Tell me, do you have any siblings?”
“Um, yes, a brother and a sister … oh, look at that.” I tugged her in the direction of one of those tapas bars, of which there were many, though this place had a huge window display of exquisite looking nibbles. “Arwen, it’s snack time.”
She cast me a glance from the corner of her eye but didn’t argue and we approached the counter, filled a large plate with various tapas dishes, ordering coffees as well and found a table in an isolated corner.
“Have you seen this?” I selected a tiny hamburger, about the size of a two Euro coin. “It’s adorable, I almost don’t want to eat it.” I crammed it down my mouth regardless. “Oh, are you any good at that?” I was referring to the five large prawns, whole; heads, tails, everything.
“Obviously,” she smirked, “I’m Australian, you can bet I’ve had practice peeling these bad boys.” She plucked one up and twisted its head off, peeled away the skin and slid off the tail, all within five seconds.
I slapped the table. “Wow.” I shouldn’t have been surprised she’d be good at that too.
“Pfft, try it.” She pushed the dish toward me as she placed the prawn in her mouth. “It’s so good.”
I smiled with sympathy at the four little faces staring back. “Um, ok. Oh, bloody hell.”
“It’s easy, here.” Evidently sensing my trepidation, she grabbed one at random and passed it to me. “Don’t be afraid of it. Just twist its head off.” She was right, of course. It was pathetic to wince at such a thing, given how much I loved meat and I was aware of the whole, if you eat meat you should at least kill an animal once in your life argument, just so I could experience all of its consequences and implications, yet all I had to do here was peel an already dead prawn. At least this little fishy had a full and happy life before it was caught, sigh.
I made a strange whimper as I held it in both hands, closed my eyes and began to twist, feeling it separate.
“There, now use your thumbs to prise apart the skin from beneath.” She was reaching around me to offer instruction, her chin nestling delightfully on my shoulder and she hummed as I opened the skin from underneath. “Hmmm, good, well done, you got the legs as well, hmmm, how good is that.”
I’d become more excited by the sounds she was making than by the prawn but wouldn’t let on about that little perversion. “And the tail? Teach me.”
Her hands, as I now discovered, were not there to give me pointers but instead to connect around my midriff and I was now locked in a cosy embrace, her chin still resting on my shoulder. Her voice descended to a groan directed softly into my ear. “Just pinch the tail and pull out the prawn.”
My head swivelled to meet hers. “Like this?” And away it came.
“Like that.”
I brought the prawn up and felt her jaw press lightly against my shoulder as she opened her mouth and began to chew whilst making deli
ghtful little humming sounds. It was so funny and I couldn’t stop myself from giggling and I clasped my hands around hers, closed my eyes and simply melted into her embrace, only to let go when her tongue flicked out to lick my earlobe.
“Ewww, Arwen.” I slapped her on the wrist and turned gently towards her, her lips already waiting for mine and they connected as I inhaled the peach from her hair and her clutch around my belly tightened and we both opened out our hands to clasp each others’ tight. It was an awkward position for my neck but I couldn’t bring myself to shift from her envelopment, body, everything. It was the kiss I’d craved ever since Catalonia, only this time it was completely voluntary by me, by her, this was us, what we both wanted and I squeezed her fingers, felt her do the same as I hummed and gently rubbed my back against her breasts as she pressed them back against me.
My mobile phone blared from my bag, startling us both.
“How’s that for timing.” I heaved for breath, stroked her forearm, wanted to ignore the bothersome device but finally retrieved it from my clutch. “Oh…” it was Gabe and I felt a wave of guilt wash over me, something I was not in the frame of mind to consider right now. I knew it was coming and I’d have to deal with it eventually, just not now, I wanted today, just one day with Arwen, just to see. And shit, were they even now rambling Las Ramblas and the rest of the tourist spots in search of us? My heart sank, even as Arwen was holding onto me.
“Gabe?”
“Frey, I’m so sorry…”
“What?”
“Fucking gypsies!” He growled. “I tell you…”
“What,” I shook my head, “Gabe, settle down and tell me what’s happened now?”
“Fucking gypsies is what’s happened. Can you fucking believe it but they’re still there, outside, waiting for us to leave … bastards sure know how to hold a grudge and the police are less than useless. Apparently, they’re too short-staffed to escort us safely back to the hostel, can you believe that? Told us they’re not a fucking taxi service. Well fuck them, fuck the EU, and thank God for Brexit, is all I can say.”
“Oh gosh, you must really have hurt that boy’s fingers.” I sighed and felt Arwen’s vibrating chest stifling laughter. “Gabe, you’ve served your time, can’t you just walk out?”
“No, we can’t, weren’t you listening? There’s at least thirty of them just hanging around. Even Mikhail and Bogdan are refusing to leave without an escort.”
“Um, who?”
“The Russians, the Russians. I won’t be long, there’s another phone down the hallway.” The last bit sounded distant. “Listen, Freya, you and Arwen, do your thing, again, and I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Down the fucking hallway.” He shouted.
“Gabe!”
“They’ve promised that if those walking dysgenics are still loitering around in the morning then they’ll designate someone to drive us back, so we’re definitely released tomorrow, first thing. I’m sorry, Doctor, I love you.”
“But…” the line cut out and an involuntary exhalation left my mouth, leaving me somewhat stunned.
“Now, there’s a side to Gabe I could grow to like.” Arwen absolutely burst into hysterics and I slapped her on the arm. “Oh, shucks. What shall we do without them?”
“Arwen?” I gaped. “You are terrible.”
She shrugged, didn’t seem disappointed in the slightest. “It’s a tragedy. How shall we occupy ourselves?” And at that she absolutely squeezed my thigh, sending a wonderful shiver all the way up my spine to culminate in my shoulders. And she felt it too and smirked with triumph. Oh, the effect this girl had on me and she was barely even trying, of that I was sure.
I shifted to a more comfortable position and cupped her face in my hands, bringing my lips to meet hers. She leaned into me and her hands were in my hair as our breathing increased in intensity and our tongues clashed. I was overwhelmed with the desire to explore her incredible body, to slip a hand inside her plunge shirt and cup a breast but, suddenly aware of a couple entering with their three young children and not wanting to get too touchy-feely in public, I pulled away, devastatingly hard as it was. Living an uncharacteristically dangerous life I may now apparently be doing but deep down I was still that dour Scot and if I’d feared Arwen might have been offended, I needn’t have worried, she understood. I was new to this. I had no clue what was happening.
“I think I need some fresh air,” I groaned into her ear and, taking her hand, we left to emerge back onto Las Ramblas.
I wasn’t sure how long we’d been inside but the change in heat was evident and Arwen pulled me over to the right and into the shade to continue toward the monument that loomed ahead. Some shops had closed for the siesta and the throng of people had diminished though there were plenty of gelato places still open and we stopped to fill our tanks, Arwen going for cherry, whilst I made a point of choosing stracciatella. We sat on a shaded bench to enjoy them, happily sharing each other’s flavour whilst she spoke so casually about all the places she still wanted to see.
It was impressive, that such a young girl could arrive in Europe, all alone and with nothing but a long list with no logical order to go by, no idea of how she would get from one place to the next other than by using her charm and loveliness to hitch rides with fellow travellers. Such was the girl’s confidence that clearly, a minor thing like not having a plan had never fazed her. My mind was mathematical and scientific whilst hers was artistic. I like having at least some idea of what’s happening today, tomorrow, next week, ten years from now. It was a major difference in our personalities, the way we thought and how we viewed the world. Yet here we were, somehow together, getting along so well, feeding each other ice cream, holding hands, exchanging saliva. No, she was not fazed and never had been intimidated, not by being alone on the other side of the world and certainly not by me.
I was also amazed by just how casual Arwen could be. Here we were, two girls, caressing, fondling, getting close for the first time and whilst I was anxious and so many other things I had yet to come to terms with, she was so relaxed. I knew she was Australian, true, and they had a reputation for being unflappable but there had to be more to it and I just couldn’t hold my questions back any longer.
“I’m not your first am I?” I asked as we arrived at the giant Colombus monument. “I mean, woman, I’m not your first woman … not that we’ve even done anything yet … and not that I’m taking it for granted that we’re going to do anything but you get the idea … ugh, kill me now.”
She stopped, opened out her arms and gave me a look that suggested I was adorable, “cuddle me this minute.”
Which I was, adorable and vulnerable, like a virgin suffering badly through her first major crush, which happened to be for an older, far more experienced friend. I was used to being in control, always in control, knowing what was expected, how to please him, how to handle him. Now, I was so far out of my depth it was terrifying. Yet I couldn’t stop even if I wanted, which I didn’t. And as I lost all control over my feet and fell into her open arms, peeping into her big, warm blue eyes as I did, I knew just why I couldn’t stop. It was different, it was exciting, it was thrilling and yes, it most certainly was terrifying.
“You want to know my sex story, don’t you?” And she was so soul-destroyingly beautiful too, which kind of helped.
I nodded into her shoulder and felt suddenly insecure for what she might say. Was she into guys as well as girls or just girls? Or, like me, had she assumed she was only into guys? Somehow I doubted I was that great, to turn her over to the dark side just because we kissed by a campfire. Nope, I wouldn’t be taking credit for that one. Ok, just shut up and listen. “What I’d like to know is, have you always been into women?” My voice came out muffled against her neck.
She released me from her squeeze, took my hand and we continued the short distance towards the statue, coming to lean against the giant plinth. “You’re looking at me like I have some major secret to divulge. Really, it’s not that in
teresting.” Boring was good and her words soothed me some.
“But it’s interesting to me.” Truth is I was almost giddy for info on this girl and found myself turned into her at a right angle, my brain blotting out the pigeons and pedestrians and tour busses lest I miss any small detail.
She leaned into me and slipped her hand between the plinth and my hip, concealed to the world as she whispered into my ear. “Of course, I love women.” And I distinctly felt a squeeze of buttock.
“Well, duur, like I couldn’t already tell from the way you kiss me.” My hand was resting between my abdomen and the indentation of her midriff and was holding onto the knot she’d tied at the base her shirt.
“You know, the way you kiss me, it’s enough to think you were only ever interested in women.”
Or one woman in particular. Whatever my situation might be, it was clearly more complicated than the lightness she was making of it.
She shrugged, “I dunno really, I’ve never given myself any labels and never would, I don’t care for them. To call myself a lesbian would be to overly simplify what I am and would be expected to conform to. The truth is, I don’t give it a great deal of thought. I am attracted to who I am attracted to.”
“As I’m beginning to find out for myself.” I squeaked, only now realising my breasts were crushing against her arm.
“I’ve always felt women were beautiful, right from the time I was a child and I’d watch them dance and do incredible things with their bodies. So, if you were expecting any major life-changing moment when I suddenly saw everything with clarity, then I’m sorry, I don’t have it. It’s always been there. And of course, I will admit, I’ve had relationships with men too. Why should I rule out fifty percent of humanity just because of their gender? And that works both ways.” She sighed heavily. “The problem is, I’ve never managed to find that same level of connection with men as I have with women. Honestly, for whatever reason, I turn their brains to mush.”
I giggled, totally loving her swagger and crushed harder against her. “Oh, I have no idea why that might be.”