by Emma Nichols
Ash gulped, her eyes fixed on the soft lips and tongue that teased the fingertip mercilessly, and she stopped breathing. Fuucckk! Her mouth opened and then closed again.
Iman’s hand dropped to her side, and her smile widened. ‘Can I come in?’ she asked.
Ash convinced her feet to move, and she stepped back from the door, avoiding Iman’s intense gaze. ‘I’ll finish getting dressed,’ she said in a broken voice, turning swiftly and scampering up the stairs.
Iman released a long breath, and a slight moan, as the sense of burning desire that had shifted from the racing of her heart to the butterflies in her stomach, now flamed low in her core. She didn’t want to resist the temptation any longer. She stepped into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, her hands shaking. Swallowing the cold liquid did nothing to reduce the feelings or stifle the blazing heat that was controlling her body.
‘Hi.’ Ash bounced into the kitchen, fiddling with the top button of her white shirt.
Iman jumped and let out a squeal. She turned to face Ash, suddenly feeling more self-conscious, her mind providing the caution that her body lacked. ‘You’re dressed!’ she said, frowning.
Ash’s smile turned into a laugh. ‘Umm, yes.’
‘You look lovely,’ Iman stuttered.
Iman’s eyes seemed to be assessing every part of her, undressing her, touching her, and dressing her again. Ash struggled to swallow, her feet following her instincts and stepping closer.
Iman put the glass down on the table, willing Ash to take another pace towards her. She did.
‘You look beautiful,’ Ash said, taking in the three-quarter length, flowing cream dress, with a black cotton pattern, delicately embroidered. Subtle. Elegant. She took another pace closer. With a shaking hand, she traced the material sitting across Iman’s collarbone, her fingers coming to rest in the centre point, directly below her chin.
Iman flinched, goose bumps sprinted down her spine, and raw heat burst through her skin. She willed her eyes to close but they refused, locking onto
Ash, and there was nothing she could do but surrender to her.
Ash’s fingers remained in place, her eyes fixed intently on the brown irises, their colour shifting through shades from light to dark hazel. She could feel Iman shaking beneath her fingertips, her pupil’s craving, begging. She could feel it in her own pulse racing out of control, and the vibrations that she could no longer contain in her stomach. Her fingertips traced back up to Iman’s neck.
Iman gasped as Ash’s fingers moved from her dress, tenderly sliding across her skin, leaving a burning trail that fuelled an intense desire to close the gap between them. Her feet refused to comply, and she remained frozen to the spot.
Ash teased the soft lips that had rendered her speechless just moments ago and released a stifled groan as a deep sigh. She started to ease closer, her eyes never lifting from Iman’s. Then, her hands dropped to her side suddenly, and she shifted backwards.
Unable to resist any longer, driven by something stronger than she could control, Iman refused to allow Ash to back off. Desperately, she closed the gap, and her lips landed clumsily on Ash’s.
Ash groaned at the contact that caused her legs to weaken, and her mouth connected with a sense of urgency she hadn’t experience in a long time. Forever even. She had opened to Iman, and let her touch something so profound she might drown. She was drowning, and there was no escape.
Iman’s eyes closed, her senses overwhelmed by the hunger in the kiss, as she explored Ash in a way she had never explored anyone. The pain of oppression, she had lived with for so long, now consumed by a passion so wild, there was no taming the desire inside her. Years of waiting for this moment: hoping, dreaming, the denial and frustration; and then the realisation, and the wanting. Her tongue delved into the warm wet space. Her lips searched, and for a long moment, she forgot to breathe. She pulled away, and opened her eyes, gasping for air. Ash was staring at her, and she was smiling, the intensity in her dark irises penetrating straight through to her core and settling effortlessly in her soul.
Ash’s heart still raced through her chest, her hands still shook, and she had no explanation for the dizziness that was making it hard to focus. They couldn’t move that quickly. She needed Iman to be sure. But, jeez did she want to take her to bed right now. She took a deep breath and released it slowly, reached for Iman’s hands and squeezed them tightly. ‘You okay?’ she asked, eventually finding her words. Iman nodded, wide-eyed. ‘Shall we go to the souk?’ Iman nodded again. ‘Are you going to breathe?’ Ash asked, a soft smile forming as she swept Iman’s hair to the side and lightly traced her fingers down the side of her face.
Iman released a long breath and smiled. She had never felt so utterly vulnerable and insanely happy at the same time.
Ash stepped closer and pulled her into her arms. She held her tightly, enjoying the warmth of her cheek against her chest. ‘You sure you’re okay?’ she asked.
Iman eased out of the hold and cleared her throat. ‘Yes,’ she said, in a broken voice. ‘It’s just so intense!’ She was still smiling, and her hands were still jittery. ‘I didn’t expect to feel like this,’ she said, rolling her eyes.
Ash started to chuckle. ‘Yes, I didn’t expect to feel like this either,’ she said. Iman’s smile turned into a giggle. Ash cupped her cheek, moved closer and placed a tender kiss on her lips. ‘Let’s go shopping,’ she said.
23.
‘When did you know about yourself?’ Iman asked, lowering her eyes to the porcelain cup of mint tea in her hands. The quaint café, in the centre of the souk, doubled up as a stall for local artists. Handcrafted gifts sat as centrepieces on the three small tables and strips of cloth, transformed into beautiful pictures for tourists, hung from purposefully constructed rails to draw the eyes of passers-by.
Ash studied Iman’s genuinely inquisitive gaze, distant memories flooding her mind. She hesitated. A fruity odour from hookah smoke lingered in the air, momentarily distracting her thoughts.
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.’
‘No, it’s okay.’ Ash breathed in the heady aroma filling the small space, turning the delicately patterned cup in her hands. ‘I was thirteen when I realised for sure,’ she said.
Iman’s eyes widened. ‘That’s young,’ she responded.
‘Maybe,’ Ash shrugged. ‘What about you?’
Iman started to flush. ‘Well, I think I had a crush at school but didn’t realise until just recently.’
Ash flinched. ‘Wow, really?’ She sat back in her chair and considered the hungry eyes, staring at her.
‘Does that matter?’ Iman asked, suddenly concerned that Ash might think poorly of her.
Ash started to reach across the table, desperate to make physical contact, but Iman moved away, and Ash retreated quickly. ‘Sorry, I just…’
‘I know. I want it too, but…’
Ash nodded. An impulsive act could land them in a lot of trouble. ‘No, it doesn’t matter at all,’ she answered. ‘As long as you’re sure?’ She held Iman’s pure, innocent face, the pain of not being able to touch her tugging at her heart. God this was agonising. All she wanted to do was hold her, and kiss her.
‘I am sure,’ she said, a soft smile forming, her eyes flickering in the sunlight.
Ash sighed, mirroring the smile that seemed to increase the longing between them. ‘Good.’ She sipped her tea, pondering in the brief silence. ‘Do your family know?’ she asked. Iman nodded. Ash released a sigh. ‘That’s good.’
‘What about your family?’ Iman asked.
Ash bit down on her lips and her eyes dulled. ‘That’s a long story,’ she said, her tone curt. Sitting up in the seat, alerted, her eyes started scanning the market stalls.
‘We have all afternoon,’ Iman said softly. ‘I’d like to know a bit more about you,’ she added, sipping her tea.
Ash let out a deep breath and relaxed back into the chair. It was a fair request, and her reaction had been uncalled
for, except for the fact that talking about her childhood tended to warrant such an emotional response. ‘I was adopted at the age of 7,’ she started.
Iman’s eyes fixed on her as she spoke.
‘My adoptive parents, well Jason actually, was a religious man and worked as a vicar in our local church.’ She pursed her lips before continuing.
Iman shook her head back and forth, not quite understanding the significance, but sensing there was more to come.
Ash fidgeted in her seat. ‘When I told them I was a lesbian, they, well he, gave me a choice. Either to correct my ways or he would kick me out of the house.’
Iman gasped. ‘What about your Mum?’
‘Sandra,’ Ash corrected. ‘She couldn’t say anything against him. He would have beaten her.’ She was picking at the nail bed of her finger, raised it to her mouth and bit down on the skin. It started to bleed, and she continued picking at it.
Iman reached across, forgetting herself, and took Ash’s hand in hers. She picked up the small paper napkin and dabbed it at the bloody spot. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.
‘It’s okay. It was a long time ago,’ Ash said, but her eyes remained distracted by the unwelcome memories.
Iman held her gaze, with fire in her eyes. ‘No, it’s not okay Ash. It can never be okay.’
Ash studied the look she hadn’t seen before. She smiled weakly and shrugged. ‘Maybe.’
‘Did he hurt you?’ Iman asked, holding Ash’s dark-blue eyes with apprehension.
‘Once.’ Ash’s irises had darkened, and her jaw tensed.
Iman’s chest tightened. She squeezed the hand in hers, willing Ash’s past to go away. ‘What happened?’ she asked.
Ash looked away and pulled her hand out of the warm, safe touch.
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,’ Iman said, sitting back in her seat. She picked up her cup and sipped it, trying to swallow past the constriction in her throat.
Ash turned back to face her. ‘No, it’s okay. It was just a very long time ago and a long time since I’ve spoken about it.’
Iman nodded, her eyes lowering to the table.
‘I was sixteen, and he caught me kissing another girl. He was drunk, as always, and he beat me,’ she continued. ‘Sandra pulled him off me and for once in her life threatened to call the police and report him, so he agreed to stop. He continued to beat her instead though, so I moved out of their house anyway. She found out who I work for and has sent me a birthday card every year since, and every year I return them, and that’s about it.’ She shrugged. As her focus landed on Iman, her breath hitched. Iman was so beautiful, so kind, and such a compassionate woman, so removed from the ugly world she had had to endure as a child. The intensity emanating from her light-hazel eyes burned low in Ash’s belly. What if something happened to Iman because of their connection? She swallowed hard as the worrisome thought imposed itself, interfering with her honest reflections of the woman she was falling in love with. The warmth of love had turned quickly into anxiety and was jabbing in her gut. She couldn’t let anything terrible happen to Iman.
Iman gazed quizzically at the blonde bobbed hair and deep blue irises, and her body yearned to be close. She needed to hold Ash and remove the distress from the past. Ash was staring straight at her, but something had shifted between them. There was a palpable distance now that hadn’t been there before Ash’s revelations. Hurt maybe? She sat upright, with determination to shift the energy back again. ‘Shall we wander?’ she asked, her smile jaded by the weight of the conversation.
Ash smiled back, but it was a weary effort and lacked the passion they had shared back at the house, momentarily tarnished by a reality she knew they would have to accept. She rose to stand and held out a hand to help Iman to her feet. The brief contact elicited a deep sigh, and the warmth eased its way back into her chest. As their eyes locked together, Ash’s smile deepened.
They ambled in silence along the cobbled street; the heady aroma of burning incense and scented soaps; the vibrant colours of fabrics hanging from the high rails; and the smell of a thousand spices wafting in the motionless air, drawing their attention, and causing them to stop. Iman stood, perusing the large open-topped bowls of spices, lifting each to her nose and inhaling their scent. ‘Here, taste,’ she said, holding a pinch of the bright red spice to Ash’s mouth.
Ash’s lips parted, the brief contact with Iman’s fingers causing her gut to tighten, momentarily distracting her from tasting the spice. She recoiled at the lemony flavour hitting the back of her tongue, confused by the colour that didn’t match the taste.
‘It’s sumac,’ Iman said, chuckling at Ash’s frown and tight lips.
‘Wow, that’s tangy,’ she said, smiling at Iman’s delight. ‘You have a real passion for cooking,’ Ash said, with a look of admiration watching Iman dive into another spice.
Iman’s smile dropped from her lips. She needed to tell Ash about the training course. Later. She turned to face Ash, a pinch of something greyish between her fingers. ‘Try this.’
Ash took the spice, her lips lingering on Iman’s fingers.
Iman pulled away quickly and flustered as Ash bit down on the seeds, deliberately scratching Iman’s fingertip in the process, and sending a tingling sensation down her arm.
She frowned at the spicy sweet flavour with a hint of something that seemed familiar, but she couldn’t name. ‘What is it?’ she asked, finding it hard to swallow as her eyes locked onto Iman’s fiery gaze.
‘Caraway,’ Iman said, softly, but it was her sharp focus that was causing Ash’s heart to race.
Iman was biting down on her bottom lip, and it was wreaking havoc with Ash’s nervous system. Bolts of electricity spiralled down her back, and the fluttering in her chest was heading south and kicking off the throbbing sensation in her core. She couldn’t find a thought to stop the emotional rollercoaster that was now overtaking her body. ‘You wanted to show me the shawl shop,’ she said, wiping at the beads of sweat that were trickling down the side of her right cheek.
Iman held Ash’s gaze a fraction longer before she gathered herself to answer the question. ‘Sure, follow me.’ She turned on her heels and scooted into the bustling market, Ash in tow. She stopped suddenly, turned swiftly, and faced an incoming Ash, who stopped just short of a collision. ‘Would you take me home, please?’ she whispered.
Ash shuddered at Iman’s breath against her ear and shivered again as the warmth disappeared. ‘You okay?’ she asked, trying to assess the reason for Iman’s shift in mood and the thumping sensation trying to escape her chest. ‘Have I offended you?’ she asked, having found nothing else on which to pin the transformation.
‘No.’ Iman locked onto Ash’s dark eyes, her voice ragged. ‘I just want to be alone with you,’ she said.
Ash couldn’t breathe. A sudden rush of uncertainty threw her off balance. She tried to reason with why they should take it slowly, or even just be friends, but any thoughts she had scattered like confetti, and made little sense to her. ‘I don’t know if that’s a good idea,’ she offered, but the rebuff was half-hearted. Her legs were losing strength as quickly as her will, and Iman’s smile told her she knew as much too.
‘Please?’ Iman stood, inches away from the lips she desperately wanted to kiss; the mouth she wanted caressing her body, and the hands she wanted to feel against her most sensitive parts. The constant flow of desire she had had to battle with, to stop herself rushing in, was winning. ‘I need you,’ she said, her voice fractured, her lips quivering.
The tightness in Ash’s chest released itself, allowing her racing heart to beat freely. She nodded, and they turned back to where they had entered the souk, oblivious to any eyes that might have been judging them.
The clicking of Ash’s safety belt broke the silence between them. Iman reached her hand across and placed it on Ash’s, and squeezed tightly. ‘I’m twenty-six Ash, not a teenager. I know what I’m doing, and I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.’
&n
bsp; Ash swallowed hard, heat flaming her cheeks. She had no response. Iman was right. Turning to face the road, she shifted the 4x4 into gear and headed home.
*
‘Would you like a drink?’ Ash asked, heading for the kitchen.
Iman clicked the lock on the door. ‘No.’ The word was barely audible, and the lower range stopped Ash from moving any further. Iman closed the gap between them before Ash had turned to face her, the fire flaming through her veins seeking only one thing. Ash!
‘I…’ The wet heat consuming Ash’s mouth killed all thought, and she stumbled backwards under the force of Iman’s passion. Iman’s soft lips were working her effortlessly, her tongue probing, dancing, exploring. Her teeth were biting down, pulling tenderly at the delicate flesh, before consuming her hungrily, and Iman’s hands had already found the top button of her jeans. Ash groaned and any sense of self-control she had hoped to apply got lost in the impassioned kiss. Her hands reached up, and eased through Iman’s hair, pulling her closer, all the while her body demanding more direct contact. She eased back. The black eyes staring back at her had only one thing in mind. Ash reached down, took Iman’s hand and walked her up the stairs and into her bedroom.
Iman stood watching Ash watching her, as she unbuttoned the white shirt she had wanted to remove since she’d set eyes on it. Ash let the shirt slide down her shoulders onto the floor, and Iman marvelled at the goose bumps forming on the smooth skin beneath her fingertips. She lightly traced the line of Ash’s bra from the strap on her shoulder to the front of her pert breasts, her heart racing and her breath faltering at the of effect of her touch on the blue-eyes gazing at her.
Ash stood, captivated by the intensity of Iman’s light touch and the tingling down her spine. Iman was staring so intensely into her eyes, tracing down between her breasts and across her taut stomach to the opening in her jeans. Her heart skipped a beat as Iman moved lower, slowly undoing her jeans’ buttons, and releasing her trousers to the floor. She was trembling, feeling strangely vulnerable to the imbalance in their state of dress.