by Sally Graham
When she spoke, her voice was dull. “I only found out that my parents weren’t my birth parents by accident. When the bank foreclosed we had forty-eight hours to leave our house. We had to pack everything, with no time to sort through stuff. Boxes and crates were stacked higgelty-piglety into a removal van. And they were unpacked in the same disorder. We had to live in a crappy little rented dilapidated house. The weather was terrible. We piled boxes in every room, including my own, and during the second night of rain I discovered that the roof leaked. By morning water had soaked the cardboard packing case in the corner of my bedroom.
“I was awake before anyone else, and as I pulled the cardboard case away from the damp a complete side panel collapsed. There was a jumble of papers and folders inside, but the top folder - I couldn’t miss it - had the word ‘Adoption stuff’ in my mum’s handwriting, scrawled in a felt tip marker. At first I just stared at it, I didn’t want to look inside or anything. But I had to. I had to find out.” She paused. “I can still see it in my mind as clearly as that early morning in the half light - a faded blue folder.”
Blake took a breath. “Anyhow, inside was an envelope with a neatly typed label which said ‘Adoption Certificate’. I picked it up and I knew, I just knew, deep down, what I had always suspected - that my parents weren’t really mine.”
“What a way to find out,” Carrie breathed. She waited, then “So what happened?” she asked gently.
“I froze, staring at the piece of paper. But before I could do anything, my Mum came in to check what I wanted for my lunch box. And she saw immediately what I was looking at.”
Blake’s voice had become so quiet that Carrie had to lean forward across the table.
Blake shrugged. “We got through it. There was a lot of crying. I wasn’t angry or anything. How could I be? But Mum was upset when I talked to them a couple of weeks later and said that I wanted to find who my birth mother was. And - and that’s how I met Hazel and David.”
Carrie watched Blake’s face - it was calm, unemotional, and gave no hint of any internal anguish.
“But why… why didn’t you want to be more involved with this place? My godmother wanted you to inherit.”
“I know. She was hurt, at first, when I told her - told them both - how I felt. But how could I manage somewhere like this? I have no financial resources, no money.” She sighed. “But I still wanted to reconnect with the country where I had come from, where I had been conceived, where I was born.”
Blake’s blue eyes looked at Carrie, and Carrie felt she was looking right through her, seeing through her to that moment when she met her real parents.
“But I had skills. I had experience. I’d been working with sheep since I was a teen. It wasn’t difficult for them to arrange for me to get this job because the previous shepherd - like everyone else around here - wanted to leave.”
Blake stopped speaking and stroked the back of Carrie’s hand. “And then you had to come.”
“Me? I mean - ?”
“Not only did I know deep down that I was different from the rest of my family because I was adopted. I guess I knew from about the time I was seven or eight that I was different in another way. I was gay. Not that I thought like that, of course, then. But - well, I guess you know what I mean.”
The light was fading outside, and Blake stood up. “I’ll light some lamps.”
Carrie’s thoughts were whirling. “You know - this is all too much. I mean, you tell me you’re gay and - ”
“And I think you’re the most attractive woman I know - even if you’re a banker and represent everything I hate! When I kept getting your texts it was so hard not to reply, but I didn’t know - I couldn’t say what I was feeling.”
Then Carrie felt Blake’s lips brush the top of her head before she sat down at the table, her face lit by the soft glow of the flickering lights.
“There was a time - when I first met you - that I would have been pissed off to hear something like that,” Carrie said. She smiled wryly. “And there’s a big part of me that disagrees with your view about bankers. But I can understand. And since I’ve been up here, I’ve had space to think about things too.” She looked up at Blake. “I’ve got some more news for you, too.”
“Everything about us is topsy-turvy,” Carrie continued. “I’m a gay woman who wasn’t into relationships, but I desperately want to have one with you. You gave every signal that you weren’t interested in me, and now you tell me you’re gay. And you like me. Maybe even more. You told your parents - your birth parents - that you didn’t want anything to do with Dundrannan.” She took a deep breath. “And now I’ve come back to tell you this.” She paused. “I’m not selling.”
Now it was Blake who looked incredulous. “You’re not selling? But you were totally clear that this place didn’t have a future.”
Carrie stood up. It was now almost dark, and the rain was still spattering against the window. She turned back to Blake.
“This place doesn’t have a future. Not as it is. As things stand now, it’s a car crash waiting to happen. But just think about what could be done if everything was different. No sheep. No timber business. No large house falling to pieces.”
Blake was still staring at her, her dark eyebrows startled. “Tell me what you mean,” was all she said.
“What I mean is that we have to find alternative sources of income. “ She pulled a glossy photograph out of her bag and put it on the table in front of Blake. “Recognise this?”
The shepherd looked at the picture and her face broke into a slow smile.
“Do you think you could manage these?”
“Why, yes but - ”
“The wool from llamas fetches a far higher price than sheep’s wool. And they are already grazing here in Galloway.” Carrie sat down and reached into her case again. “Look at these,” she said, pushing a brochure towards Blake. The cover pictured expensive timber buildings that fronted a waterfront and carried the caption ‘Eco Holiday Homes Can be Yours.’
“I’m getting preliminary data on the market for this type of building that could be built on the land we walked over by the shoreline. The timber for construction is outside our backdoor. We provide jobs and boost the local economy. That will help us get financial grants.”
Blake sifted through the brochure. “This is crazy,” she breathed. “Ridiculous. It’s going to cost money. A lot of money.” She pushed the brochures back across the table to Carrie.
Carrie smiled. “Ah - yes - money. That’s tricky if you don’t like banks - and bankers,” she said, looking at Blake. “But you see - I know how the system works. I’m pretty confident I can find an investor who will back me. Back us, actually.” She paused. “Because you’re a key part of this.”
“Me? But I don’t know anything about finance!” Blake’s voice was anxious.
“No - but you do know people here; and you know the area. If I just walked in - some fancy banker from London - people would be suspicious, even resentful. But you’re local. People know and like you.”
“What about the house?”
“It can be lived in. And - we’re going to live there!”
Blake leaned back. “Wait a moment - what are you saying?”
“It’s your home,” Carrie said gently. “It’s where you belong. And, I think we belong there together. No - it’s okay,”she said hurriedly. “All I’m saying is, let’s get to know each other.” Her voice softened. “Heaven knows its taken us long enough to find each other.”
“But what about your job? What about the bank?”
“I’ve had my share of deal chasing. I’ve had my share of city life as well. As of a few hours ago, I don’t work at the bank any longer. I handed in my resignation this morning. No - don’t look worried for me. I was a deal junkie needing bigger and bigger fixes. There wasn’t anything - anyone - else in my life. But I couldn’t have gone on, and the bank would never let up.”
Carrie paused. “I always told people I wasn’t into r
elationships. Well, I was wrong. I just hadn’t found the right person to have a proper relationship with.”
She stood up and walked around the table. “Come here,” she said, gently pulling Blake towards her. “I love you. I’ve loved you since I first saw you looking at me so angrily when you came to drive me around the estate. I loved you when we walked by the Firth. I loved you when we scrambled over slippery wood to look at the saw mill. I loved you when you had to sit opposite me in Bett’s cafe because there was nowhere else.”
Blake kissed Carrie’s neck gently. “You had a fine way of showing that you loved me,” she whispered.
“You never gave me the chance.”
“I’m giving you one now.”
Blake took a step forward, uncertain whether to follow her desire to kiss Carrie. It seemed so surreal to feel the rush of desire that suddenly surged through her, paralysing her earlier feelings of dislike for the woman standing in front of her.
But any hesitation was cut short when she felt Carrie’s soft lips brush hers, and breathed her scent, and felt her arm pull her forward.
They kissed like two awkward teenagers, drawing back nervously before embracing shyly to enjoy each other’s cautious exploration. Carrie opened her mouth slightly, inviting Blake to explore, to taste, to gently suck her lower lip, and finally allow her tongue to press against her own.
As Carrie felt Blake’s body relax, she pulled back slightly, the better to butterfly kiss Blake’s forehead, her eyes, her ear - when she whispered, “Why didn’t we do this before?”
Blake didn’t answer, but simply pulled Carrie closer to her, and began to kiss more deeply, her tongue revelling in Carrie’s melting acceptance of her tender invasion, their bodies suddenly melding with one another so that Blake could gently press her leg between Carrie’s thighs, who groaned softly.
Still kissing her languorously, Carrie slid her hand inside Blake’s denim jacket, her palm cupping the soft warmth of Blake’s breast, the nipple already hard against her plaid shirt. She felt Blake’s hand stroking her back, moving down to cup her bottom, now pressing herself against Carrie’s thigh which sent glissades of heat through her body.
Carrie drew breath, and smoothed her mouth against Blake’s neck, inhaling with delight her clean, feminine, scent before she began to undo, slowly, one by one, the small white buttons of her shirt.
As each button flipped free she paused and kissed the softness of Blake’s neck before slipping the next button free and then, finally, pulled the fabric loose from Blake’s jeans so she could push it away and rest her hands on Blake’s bare skin.
Blake was was besieged by conflicting needs - desire, apprehension, lust, fear of rejection. Carrie had been right when she said that Blake had not been keen on her when they had first met. And yet now her body was sending urgent messages that could not be ignored, making urgent demands that could lead to one thing, and one thing only.
“Are you ok?” Carrie whispered, looking into Blake’s half-closed eyes.
“I’m more than ok,” Blake murmured, allowing Carrie to slip her hands behind her and unfasten her bra. “I just can’t believe that you’re here.”
“I can go, if you like,” Carrie answered softly, her breath hitching in her throat as she caressed Blake’s nipple. “We don’t know each other very well, but maybe this is a good way to start?” she teased. She felt Blake’s lips, pressed against hers, break into a smile.
“We can go on kissing each other to heaven,” Carrie breathed, “and back.”
“Mmm - I’d like that,” she heard Blake whisper, nuzzling her face into Carrie’s shoulder. A moment later Carrie’s business jacket was eased off as Blake French-kissed her and began to take off her blouse, soothing it off her shoulders and thumbing her breast through a lacy black bra.
Carrie held Blake tight, and, holding her waist, stepped backwards until she felt her calf brush against the couch. Then, still kissing Blake tenderly, she slowly sank down onto the soft cushions, guiding Blake until she was half-sitting, half-lying, beside her.
“I’d have collapsed with desire if we’d stayed standing,” Carrie whispered, undoing her bra and flicking it away. She sucked Blake’s nipple into her mouth, squeezing the swollen flesh between her lips, feeling Blake shiver with excitement. She teased the aureole with her tongue, her face pressed into Blake’s melting softness, before pulling away.
“No…. Don’t stop,” she heard Blake breathe before she lifted her arms, arching her back so that Carrie could trail her mouth across her chest, mouthing her nipples again, nuzzling the soft divide between her arm and chest, before little by little, she pressed her mouth with small, cautious, kisses back up Blake’s neck again until she could kiss her lips, and taste her desire.
Blake leaned back, willing Carrie to continue. She wanted her to ravish her, to undress her, to kiss her entire body from top to toe, but - most of all - she had a burning need for Carrie to linger between her legs where she could feel her wetness pooling between her thighs.
Yet she sensed that Carrie was holding back: she seemed okay with kissing and tonguing her passionately, but there was no urgency to move faster, go further. Blake pulled away slightly, and rested Carrie’s head against her.
“This is lovely,” Carrie whispered. “It feels so good to be here. It feels so -”
“Shhh,” Blake interrupted. “Don’t spoil things! I - I don’t normally move this fast, you know,” she half-joked. She circled Carrie’s nipple gently with her finger. “I’m a kind of slow burn girl. I don’t want to come over strong. I don’t want to lead you on in someway. I don’t do relationships very well, you see.”
Carrie lay still. “So who does do relationships well? I know I sure as hell don’t.”
“What d’you mean? You’re so okay around all of this; I’m jealous!” Blake moved back a little, and looked at Carrie.
“I’ve been frightened of relationships,” she went on. “They - they scared me.” She sighed. “I mean, I love the sex. God, I need it. I don’t know how I’ve done without it for so long.” She looked at Carrie. “And God knows I find you sexy, against all my expectations.”
“What - me being a filthy rich banker?” Carrie teased.
“All of that - and the baggage that goes with it, I guess. But I was wrong. Really wrong. And I don’t know how to deal with it. With having an affair with you. Maybe being hurt.” And she told Carrie about her teen-age years, her self-harm, her ill-fated affair with Beatrix, her shame.
Carrie let her talk until she stopped.
She didn’t answer, but put her fingers gently on Blake’s lips, and then slowly, oh so tenderly, undid the belt of her jeans.
Blake was warm from her shower, but she froze when she opened her bedroom door.
“I lit the candles I found in the cupboard. I really had to search for them. Carrie propped herself up in bed, her shoulders and breasts golden ivory in the flickering light.
“I keep them for emergencies,” Blake answered quickly. “I don’t use them. I need to keep them safe.”
Carrie looked at her. Blake’s voice was strained, and though she held her white gown tightly around her body, her damp hair cascading over her shoulders and blue eyes reminding Carrie of an angel in Renaissance paintings.
“I feel - I feel kind of shy,” Blake mumbled as she slid into bed beside Carrie, slipping under the bedsheets and snuggling close. “I guess it’s me but I like making love in the dark. It’s sexier, isn’t it?”
Carrie stroked Blake’s shoulder. “Of course that’s okay,” she whispered. “I just love looking at you, that was all. And making love by the fire, or by candles, can be lovely. But, wait a moment.” She pushed back the bedclothes and walked across to the candles on the mantlepiece. Blake watched her, warmth suffusing her body as she followed Carrie’s back, her bottom, her long legs as she moved unselfconsciously around the room blowing out the candles until only a faint moon illumined the small bedroom, its silver light reflected off the brass
bedstead.
“There - is that better?” Carrie asked gently, sliding her hand under Blake’s nightgown and resting it on her breast. She was walking an unknown path, exploring territory that was unfamiliar: she was used to frantic, no-holds-barred sex with girls who were uninhibited and lustful. But tonight she was lying next to someone who was shy and reticent, even though she had radiated desire when they were making out on the couch earlier.
She heard Blake sigh deeply and felt her hand press down on hers so that she could gently squeeze her nipple again. Then Blake’s lips were on hers, her tongue searching and exploring, their mouths devouring each other hungrily.
In a moment, Blake lifted herself up and threw off her gown before straddling Carrie, her thighs squeezing Carrie’s waist as she bent down and began to kiss Carrie’s breasts, slowly and knowingly, tantalising them into a soft hardness before they grew firm and erect in her mouth, her teeth biting gently until Carrie moaned with pleasure.
“Go down on me, darling,” Carrie whispered, pushing Blake down her body and spreading her thighs. “Make me come again.”
The darkness was heavy with desire as Blake trailed her tongue down Carrie’s stomach, past the dark triangle of her bush, and she rested her tongue on Carrie’s swelling lips, inhaling her fresh cleanness.
“Oh God,” Carrie moaned, thrusting her hips into Blake’s mouth. “Oh God….Please…”
Blake kissed Carrie’s lips upwards and back, feeling Carrie shiver with delight but then she suddenly felt her stiffen, and pull away.
“What is it?” she whispered. “Did I hurt you?”
“No - God, no,” Carrie sighed. “It’s me. I’m - now I’m scared.”
“You? Scared? What d’you mean?”
“I don’t know. I’m frightened. Frightened I’ll hurt you. Frightened that I’ll mess things.”
“What d’you mean? I don’t understand. Tell me.”
Blake moved back up the bed, and lay next to Carrie, her hand resting on her breast.