Kindred Hearts

by Grace Lowrie

  ‘I should go, let you sleep,’ Sebastian said, getting to his feet.

  ‘No, don’t … I mean, you don’t have to go yet, if you don’t want to,’ I added, embarrassed.

  Sebastian paused. ‘OK.’ He sat back down in the shadows. ‘What do you want to talk about?’

  My mind hastily scrambled about searching for a subject or a question. ‘Why don’t you have a girlfriend?’ I asked, the darkness in the room making me bold and impulsive.

  Sebastian sighed and I thought he wasn’t going to reply. ‘Because I’m not good at relationships – they always end the same way; she always ends up hurt.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘They get jealous of the time I spend with Celeste, frustrated because I’m moody and distant and they get angry because I can’t give them love, romance, all that shit.’

  ‘Why not?’ I asked weakly, mortified but unable to contain my curiosity.

  ‘It’s just not who I am, I don’t like talking about my feelings.’

  ‘You’re talking to me now.’

  ‘Yes, but that’s different.’ Sebastian leaned forward and looked at me, his dark eyebrows knitted together, his lips pursed, his beautiful eyes perplexed, ‘I always was able to talk to you … I don’t know why.’ My stomach did a happy little flip. We eyed each other for a moment in the gloom and then he leaned back, retreating out of sight again.

  ‘So you just have flings?’ I asked casually.

  ‘Yes. One-night stands with single women who absolutely understand that that is all I’m offering. But I’m sensible about it, I take my sexual health seriously – I only have safe sex and I get checked out regularly.’

  ‘That’s good, I guess,’ I said, slightly flustered by his honesty. ‘But it sounds a bit cold.’

  ‘But no one gets hurt.’

  ‘But what about love?’ I cringed at my own question.

  ‘I have Celeste to love me and friends who care about me and occasional no-strings sex – I don’t need anything else.’

  I considered this for a moment but before I could respond he turned the tables on me, leaning forward again, with a steely glint in his eye. ‘What about you? Why don’t you have a boyfriend?’

  ‘I just haven’t met the right guy I guess.’

  ‘But are you looking? Isn’t there someone at work?’

  ‘Um, I don’t think –’

  ‘Or someone among Celeste’s friends – she knows loads of eligible men.’

  ‘I don’t know – I haven’t really thought about it.’ I mentally kicked myself for starting this conversation in the first place.

  ‘Well, maybe you should. How long have you been single?’

  ‘Um, a couple of years or so …’

  ‘Seriously?’ he peered at me, incredulous.

  ‘Does it really matter?’ I said, exasperated.

  ‘I guess not,’ Sebastian said. ‘But it would be easier to be friends with you if you weren’t single,’ he admitted wryly, an eyebrow raised. I shook my head and laughed, surprised and thrilled by his candid comment and he unleashed a rare, glorious, heart-stopping smile. ‘I’ve missed our chats,’ he said softly.

  ‘Me too,’ I breathed.

  ‘Anyway,’ Sebastian got to his feet. ‘It’s late and I am going now.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘But I’ll see you tomorrow – we have a party to go to.’

  Before I could react he’d left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. I collapsed into my bed exhilarated and exhausted. I so badly wanted Sebastian’s friendship, his confidence; I craved it like a drug. Should I be dating? I enjoyed spending my time with the twins so much, that it hadn’t really crossed my mind. But if it brought Sebastian and I closer …

  Chapter Twenty

  I didn’t emerge from my room until lunchtime the next day. The sun had made a welcome return and Sebastian and Celeste were swimming synchronised lengths of the pool when I stepped out onto the terrace. Sebastian spotted me first on a turn and stopped, pinning me with an unreadable gaze.

  ‘Afternoon, Natasha,’

  ‘Tasha! Darling!’ Celeste cried, gliding effortlessly to the side of the pool.

  ‘Hey, guys,’ I stifled a yawn and settled on a chair by the table.

  ‘I wanted to come and wake you but Sebastian said I should let you sleep. You slept for ages!’

  ‘I needed it, I guess,’ I shrugged stifling another yawn.

  ‘Are you coming in?’ Celeste smiled sweetly. ‘The water’s lovely.’

  ‘Um, I might just chill for a bit.’

  I ignored Celeste’s pretty pout and Sebastian splashed her back, making her gasp.

  By the time a sleek black cab arrived to convey us to the party, I was feeling like a million dollars. Celeste and I had been buffed, massaged, and polished at her favourite beauty salon until we positively radiated good health. My gown was a delicate, floor-length, midnight blue satin with a bodice hand-embroidered in gold thread. The satin reminded me of Sebastian’s eyes although I didn’t mention that to Celeste. She had accessorised my outfit with long, delicate gold earrings, heels, a clutch purse, and a cashmere wrap in case my shoulders got chilly. My hair hung down around my shoulders as was customary for me, but Celeste had straightened and conditioned it so that it looked much sleeker and neater than usual. I barely recognised myself.

  Celeste was a vision in a pale blue that exactly matched the colour of her eyes. The lightweight fabric hugged her curves and billowed around her legs as she moved. She brushed away my compliments by insisting that she’d thrown the gown together ages ago, but I could tell that she was pleased. We floated arm in arm down the staircase to the ground floor to find Sebastian waiting for us by the front door.

  ‘Wow, ladies, you look truly beautiful.’ Celeste and I couldn’t help grinning at him and he shook his head. ‘I am a very lucky guy.’

  ‘Thank you, darling, yes you are.’ Celeste said kissing him on the cheek. ‘And you look very handsome,’ she added, straightening his bow tie. Sebastian looked more than handsome – he was strikingly debonair – standing tall and clean shaven, one hand in his pocket, and sporting a vintage-style black tuxedo. He reminded me of James Bond or a Hollywood movie star, his modest scar lending a deliciously roguish air. It should be illegal to look so good.

  ‘Shall we go?’ Sebastian asked, opening the front door and holding it wide. Celeste and I linked arms and advanced down the front steps to the waiting taxi, while Sebastian locked the door shut behind us.

  As we entered the Mermaid Rooms, fashionably late, we were all offered champagne and Sebastian was greeted by wave after wave of different men and their wives all wanting to say hello. Sebastian addressed each individual in a formal but friendly manner introducing his sister and I, describing me as a family friend. We were significantly younger than most of the other guests, who were also wealthy, well-spoken, and impeccably dressed. I naturally felt a little intimidated, but thanks to Celeste I was dressed the part and Sebastian’s easy confidence was infectious.

  The venue was spacious, curvaceous, and split over two levels with high arched ceilings and dramatic lighting. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the River Thames and provided breath-taking one hundred and eighty degree views. At dinner I found myself seated at a long table, opposite Sebastian and next to Celeste. Sebastian was sandwiched between two men both in their early fifties. One of them, a ruddy-cheeked fellow called Mac (short for McCormack) had a very loud voice and dominated the conversation he directed at Sebastian. I was briefly introduced to Mac’s wife Yvonne, who was sitting on my left but she seemed reluctant to converse. She had perhaps given up trying to vocally compete with her overbearing husband. The gentleman seated on the other side of Sebastian, opposite Celeste, couldn’t believe his luck. Wendell (I don’t know if that was his first or last name) was ‘flying solo’, as he put it, and enthusiastically engaged Celeste in conversation for the duration of the meal. I suspected he was slowly boring Celeste to death, but you’d nev
er know it from the way she listened politely and graciously laughed at his lifeless one-liners. Flat liners.

  Waiters circulated the room discretely, topping up our champagne flutes with swift regularity so that I soon felt lightheaded. During the main course, a confit of duck, Sebastian shifted slightly in his seat and his leg briefly brushed mine under the table. The contact was like receiving an electric shock and as we glanced at each other, the heat in Sebastian’s eyes made me flush. But it was only a fleeting exchange and then he calmly turned back to Mac, a picture of neutrality. I continued to eat my duck and feign interest in Mac’s tedious conversation about planning regulations whilst covertly enjoying the residual tingling sensation that Sebastian’s proximity created inside me. If I was having any lasting effect on Sebastian, it certainly wasn’t obvious.

  Just before the dessert course the speeches began, awarding Celeste a well-earned rest from Wendell’s attentions. She made me jump slightly by suddenly taking my right hand in hers under the tablecloth and idly caressing my palm with her fingertips. Her covert touch was unexpectedly flirtatious, but as the delicious sensation spread soothing warmth through me, I tried to ignore any questions in my mind and just focus on what was being said.

  One of the senior partners, Richard Wright, of Denby Wright & Partners (or DW&P), the firm Sebastian worked for, gave a short speech enthusing about the considerable professional achievements of Gareth Holt and wishing him a happy and rewarding retirement. I learned it was Mr Holt who had taken what was once an abandoned warehouse and transformed it into the elegant venue we were currently dining in. He was a tall, kindly looking gentleman who didn’t look old enough to retire despite his silver head of hair. His own speech was self-deprecating, though he seemed eminently capable and perfectly at ease addressing a large room full of people. His wife, a short, shapely woman, sat beside him dabbing her eyes with a tissue, overcome by the emotion of it all.

  As the clapping subsided and our desserts arrived, Celeste relinquished my hand so that I could eat my strawberry cheesecake.

  ‘Are you OK, darling? You look a little flushed,’ she whispered in my ear.

  ‘Must be the champagne …’ I said, smiling back at her. Did she know the effect her touch had on me? Was it deliberate?

  Melodic jazz music started emanating up from the floor below, wrapping around the contours of the architecture and unfolding into the rich acoustics of the space.

  ‘Would you excuse us, Wendell? I promised my dear friend Tasha that we would dance,’ Celeste said.

  ‘N … no. Not at all …’ Wendell stuttered through a mouth full of pudding. As Celeste took my hand again and rose gracefully from her seat, Wendell half struggled to his feet, a sweet gentlemanly gesture.

  ‘Are you joining us, Sebastian?’ Celeste asked.

  ‘Not just yet, you two go ahead and I’ll join you later.’

  The band was a five piece but included a highly skilled saxophonist and a talented female singer in a slinky sequined dress. Most of the tunes were covers of modern popular hits given a soulful makeover. The music was superb and Celeste and I danced with a sense of abandon, our skirts swinging and our hips sashaying as we moved to the beat. Dancing with Celeste was easy and so much fun – our bodies seemed to be in tune, as if reading and anticipating one another and even incorporating half-remembered steps from the dance routines of our childhood, making us laugh. A cluster of middle-aged men danced in a ring around us, but Sebastian was not among them. It was only some time later, as I paused to catch my breath, that I saw him standing at the bar, deep in conversation with three other men, but watching us intently. I grinned brazenly at him and he smiled back at me before I was whisked into another breathless twirl by Celeste.

  The band finished at midnight amid enthusiastic applause and Mr Wright brought the evening to a close by wishing everybody a safe journey home. As the crowd on the dancefloor started to dissipate I scanned the bar area, the alcohol in my system making it hard to focus, but Sebastian had disappeared.

  ‘Doesn’t Sebastian dance?’ I asked Celeste.

  ‘Not very often. He’s quite good when the mood takes him, but I didn’t really think he would dance tonight, not in front of the senior partners. Will you give me a minute, darling? I just want to talk to the band before they disappear …’ Celeste, ever the networker, sashayed out of ear shot just as someone else drew my attention.

  ‘It’s Tasha isn’t it?’ a voice said. I turned to find a cute young man smiling at me. He was instantly familiar but at first I couldn’t place him. ‘Dan,’ he prompted as if reading my mind. ‘We met at a house warming party a couple of months ago.’

  ‘Of course yes, I remember, how are you?’

  ‘Good thanks, keeping busy, how about you?’

  ‘Yes, really good thank you.’

  ‘Isn’t your exhibition opening soon?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The Arts and Crafts movement, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes! I’m impressed that you remembered.’

  ‘I’d like to come and see it!’ he smiled.

  I laughed self-consciously. ‘Yes, do …’ Over Dan’s shoulder I saw Sebastian striding across the dance floor towards me, temporarily interrupting my thoughts and my heartbeat.

  ‘Stanton,’ Sebastian nodded politely in greeting as he approached us.

  ‘Walker,’ Dan replied rather stiffly, but Sebastian’s eyes were still fixed on mine.

  ‘Natasha, our taxi is outside.’

  ‘Oh, OK,’ I said, my face heating at his mere presence. I turned to look for Celeste and saw her skipping tipsily towards us.

  ‘Well, it was lovely to see you again, Dan,’ I said apologetically.

  ‘And you, Tasha. Do take care,’ he replied before stepping away.

  Sebastian sat in the front of the cab, silently gazing out at the traffic, while in the back Celeste took my hand once more, her fingers interlacing with mine. She just watched me, her head resting to one side and a small, contented smile on her lips. And as we travelled in warm, intoxicated silence, the lights of London bathing us in sliding lights and shadows, I quietly marvelled at Celeste’s loveliness, her generosity, and the depth of my love for her.

  At the house Sebastian bid us good night and Celeste led me upstairs and into her bathroom, where we removed our jewellery, make-up, and clothes. Celeste was naked beneath her gown, which pooled around her feet like liquid.

  ‘I love your hair,’ she said, as she gently pinned it up above my head to prevent it from getting wet.

  I felt faintly giddy with alcohol and joy. ‘I prefer yours,’ I said, reaching up to touch her soft blonde locks with my fingers.

  Celeste turned on the faucet to let the water heat while she put her own hair up, her arms raised above her head like a water nymph in a Victorian painting, her mouth slightly open in concentration while I watched her in the mirror. We stepped into the shower together, savouring the water on our skin, and sponged ourselves with mandarin scented soap, still heady with alcohol in the fragrant steam, our breathing shallow. I felt so relaxed, so comfortable with Celeste, as if we shared a deep connection, as if we always had.

  Once we were clean we wrapped ourselves in fluffy towels and tiptoed into the bedroom exchanging shy smiles. I pulled back the covers and we stood beside the bed facing each other. She took my right hand in both of hers and turned it over so that my palm was facing up. Then she slowly, lightly, ran the fingertips of one hand up the inside of my arm, giving me tingly goose bumps. I closed my eyes and let the sensation wash through me. When her fingers reached my shoulder she traced along my collarbone to the other shoulder before gently unhooking my towel and letting it fall to the floor. After a brief pause she ran the back of her hand down the side of my body, her knuckles skimming my breast and making me gasp. I could feel my nipples hardening but I kept my eyes closed and sensed her moving behind me; shifting closer; her own towel falling away; her breath warm on the back of my neck. Her hands hesitated, deliciously, at
the small of my back before lazily slipping around my waist to my stomach. As she did so her warm breasts pressed gently against my back, her firm nipples grazing my skin; teasing my nerve endings and hers, so that my legs felt weak. She caressed my skin in unhurried circles tantalisingly close to my breasts and before long I was panting with anticipation.

  When I could take no more I turned to face Celeste. Her eyes were dark and heavy with arousal as she leaned forward and kissed me tenderly on the mouth. I’d never kissed a girl before, not properly – her tongue was soft and warm and tasted of champagne. We climbed onto the bed and lay down on our sides facing each other.

  ‘I want you so much …’ Celeste whispered, her confession stirring my soul. She bent to kiss my neck and I reflexively tipped my head back, delighting in her delicate touch. ‘I wanted you on the dancefloor …’ she added as she trailed feather light kisses from my earlobe, along my jaw line. ‘The way you move, the way men look at you … it turns me on,’ she confessed, her breath sending shivers of pleasure through me. She reached my mouth and as we kissed again she smoothly pushed me onto my back, moving closer until her leg was between mine.

  As I grew braver I ran my hand slowly up her leg to the smooth curve of her bottom, her skin impossibly soft, her muscles tightening in aroused response. Celeste delicately kissed and suckled my nipples while her fingers explored between my thighs; my pelvis tilting reflexively to meet her hand; the delicious ache inside me intensifying. She raised her head and looked into my eyes as her thumb brushed my clitoris, making me moan. Her face was flushed, her rosebud nipples erect against the soft swell of her creamy breasts; she had never looked more beautiful. She leaned further over me, our bodies pressed hotly together; skin on skin, our breathing jagged. I slipped my hand between her thighs until I found the hot, wet opening nestled there. We rocked against each other; our fingers coaxing; our nipples rubbing; our lips teasing and our muscles tightening. I had never felt so erotic, so desired. And then Celeste slipped her finger inside me as I slipped mine into her and we both climaxed; shuddering in ecstasy and crying out, lost in each other.