by Carla Blake
Stunned by his outburst, Rachel hadn’t known what to say and instead of sticking up for herself, had sat there numbly. Smelling alcohol on his breath and dying to say something about that, but in reality too mortified to say a word. And that’s when Kate had stepped in. Arriving at her side like a knight in shining armour and snatching up the final demand, she’d shoved it back into Phil’s hand and continuously prodded him harder and harder until he’d not only stepped away from Rachel but away from the rest of her colleagues, who by this time, were all staring open mouthed.
“Idiot!” She’d cried, squaring up to his thin, weedy frame. “It’s not Rachel’s fault the customer got two copies, it’s yours! Rachel only processes them and sends them out, you’re the one who issues them in the first place. So why don’t you crawl back under your stone and fill your great fat gob with coffee, because by the stink on your breath you sorely need it sunshine!”
Phil had had no reply to that, but Kate Adams had instantly become the second person Phil Meadows hated with a vengeance. Not that Kate gave a damn. Instead, she played up to it, smiling sweetly at him every time she passed his desk and looking pointedly at the paperwork in front of him as if to ask whether he sure he was doing it properly?
Seeing her now, Rachel asked the question. “So. Who did you piss off to get sent down here?”
Kate grinned. A little taller than Rachel and with a fuller figure, her hair was cut short and choppy and ended with a fringe that perfectly accentuated a set of gorgeous dark brown eyes Rachel would have given her eye teeth for. She was also slim and vivacious and at the moment struggling to remove cobwebs from her fingers.
“So. Who was it?” Rachel asked again. “Karen? Sam? God, not Phil!”
“No! I wouldn’t come down here on his say-so if hell had me! No, actually, I volunteered.”
Rachel’s mouth dropped open. “You what?!”
“I volunteered. Christ, Rach, how else am I going to cop a fag if I don’t come down here? Bloody smoking ban’s making my life hell.”
Rachel laughed. “You could try giving up?”
“And you could try going back to your filing and ignoring my coughing.”
“Okay, if that’s want you want.” Rachel chuckled, turning her back to slide open the second drawer of the filing cabinet. “Just make sure you enjoy what’s left of your lungs.”
Kate muttered something in return, but Rachel didn’t hear. Rummaging through papers, all of them enriched with a thin layer of dust, she was too busy sneezing and coughing and pulling out a tissue to blow her nose, to give much of a sarcastic reply to Kate’s remark about the state of her lungs.
Instead, she searched. A shock running through her as a paper cut opened up across her little finger and she just about managed to stop herself from putting her grimy finger in her mouth and wipe it on an old brown envelope instead, thinking how she didn’t mind being in the basement so much now Kate was here.
Behind her she heard the rustle of cellophane on a cigarette packet and Kate strike her lighter before inhaling with relish. It was an oddly comforting sound down here and she wondered if they might be able to string out their visit a little longer and have a bit of a gossip.
The hands that then landed on her shoulders startled her, and beginning to turn, intending to remonstrate with Kate for putting her grubby hands all over her nice, clean blouse, she felt the words die on her lips as Kate turned her with one hand and closed the cabinet drawer with the other, pushing Rachel gently against it.
Then she kissed her.
Shocked, Rachel had no idea that was coming, she was forced to stand there, trapped in the cocoon of Kate’s arms, whilst Kate’s warm lips pressed against her own and her tongue gently probed her mouth. Too surprised to do anything else, Rachel then opened her own mouth to receive it and suddenly she was kissing her back. Urgently. Passionately. Aware of the softness of Kate’s lips, of the taste of tobacco, and of Kate’s hands as they traveled up the front of her blouse and started to undo the buttons.
“It’s okay.” Kate whispered urgently, pulling away from the kiss. “It’s okay.” And sliding free the final button, she spread Rachel’s blouse to reveal the lacy, white bra beneath. Rachel gasped and incredibly relieved, considering what was going on, that she had put on a clean bra that morning, watched open mouthed as Kate’s fingers followed the straps and then slipped them off her shoulders, exposing the tops of her nipples which Kate carefully rolled between her fingers before bending down to take them in her mouth.
The sensation was amazing and shuddering, Rachel groaned with unexpected delight, feeling a swelling start between her legs, before it suddenly occurred to her that maybe she should be doing something to stop this. She was being fucked by another girl in the filing room for fuck’s sake! Anyone could walk in! And Kate was her colleague. Someone she had to work with! She should be shouting. Screaming. Demanding to know what the fuck Kate thought she was doing? But it was just so nice! And Kate’s hands on her skin felt wonderful and warm and gentle and.. so, so caring! And her mouth around her nipples. It was like being caressed to orgasm. Her lips sending endless messages of desire straight down to her pussy, which was really throbbing now and making the inside of her panties damp. God! She couldn’t stop this!
Kate sucked her nipple. The other she pinched gently between her fingers, listening to Rachel gasp and moan before sliding a hand down Rachel’s stomach, and hitching up her skirt, feeding her hand into her knickers.
Rachel was beautifully wet and lifting her head from Rachel’s breasts, Kate kissed her mouth as she probed twice with her finger before gently finding a way past Rachel’s swollen labia and into the liquid well of her pussy. Then she stroked her. Slowly. Teasing her clit and waiting until Rachel was practically begging to be fucked before sliding deep inside her and almost coming herself.
Then she smiled and lost in Rachel’s warmth and softness and loving the way Rachel’s insides clenched deliciously around her finger, she slid in and out and felt Rachel’s hand cradle her own. Encouraging her to delve deeper still as she fucked her and saw Rachel’s eyes close and her head tilt back against the cabinet. Her lips parting as Kate softly kissed her and pushed another finger inside, moving deep and slow, until Rachel was almost coming. Then she removed her fingers, gently silencing Rachel’s groan of dismay by sliding up to her clit and rubbing her until a warm flood of liquid smothered her fingers and Rachel gasped, shuddered violently and came.
Afterwards, Kate tidied her up again. Smoothing down her skirt and straightening her blouse before doing up the buttons and finishing with a final brush down of her shoulders before stepping back and kissing her chastely.
“So.” She said, smiling wickedly and heading for the door. “What about it babe? Fancy being my girlfriend?”
Two
Polly was already home when Rachel arrived back at the house. Her presence betrayed by the light in the kitchen.
Friends since they’d been thrown together as room mates at University, they had taken one look at each other and instantly bonded. Rachel loving Polly’s wild sense of humour and willingness to share her clothes, of which they were plenty, and Polly admiring Rachel for her less frantic way of doing things. They even looked alike after a fashion, although Polly’s hair was longer and her eyes were more green than blue, and Rachel had never been able to carry off a hat quite like Polly could. From Stetsons to a beret, Polly looked amazing in all of them whilst Rachel simply looked as though something had decided to roost on the top of her head and die.
They’d both studied media as well, which had helped bring them closer, and after sitting through hour upon hour of creaky, old films, whose wonky direction and lack of insight managed to convince them they could do better blindfold and with an ear missing, it wasn’t long before they were planning to travel to the United States and become something awesome in the movie world. They might well have done it too i
f it hadn’t been for the cost of the airfare, and without any savings to fall back on or rich parents to plunder, they quickly realised dreams of movie stardom would have to be put aside in favour of slightly more mundane careers, that although far from glamorous, would not only feed them but pay for somewhere to live. Which was why Rachel was currently slaving away at the power company and Polly, having moaned her way from job to job, was currently finding fault with a well known building society. Both competent jobs if you wanted a decent salary and a degree of security, but both dull as ditch when it came to everything else.
Now she was home again and gazing up at the little, two bedroom terraced house she and Polly had managed to cobble together the deposit on a mortgage to buy, she couldn’t help but smile. All grown up, she thought. House, job, change in my pocket. Her father would be proud. She could almost see him now, his huge, warm hands closing over her six year old fists, as she’d tightly clutched a pile of pennies that were rapidly making her fingers smell of copper . ‘ Keep them in your purse’ he’d said, ‘where they’ll be safe and you won’t loose them. Don’t be silly like grown ups who keep their change in their pockets and loose it all the time. You keep yours safe, my girl. Know where your money is and you’ll always have change for ice cream.’
She certainly knew where it was now. Embedded in the bricks and mortar in front of her and she didn’t regret it for one minute. Polly was a hoot to live with and after seeing her reaction to the small but wildly overgrown garden at the back, Rachel was doubly sure she’d made the right decision. Polly was a gardening nut and it was merely a matter of weeks before she’d transformed their weed infested, bug ridden nightmare into a colourful splendour of flowers and herbs, complete with a water feature Polly had cobbled together using a broken ceramic plant pot, a handful of sea pebbles and a length of old hosepipe.
Letting herself in, Rachel hung up her coat and peered into the kitchen. Painted a pale yellow with matching yellow and white tiles and a blind that refused to stay down unless it was pulled viciously and sworn out, the kitchen was bright, clean and just the place Rachel needed to get herself motivated in the morning. Darkness, although she might have preferred it simply just would not do. Darkness meant sleep, meant nodding off, meant being late for work. Yellow was what she needed. Bright, eye splitting colour.
Polly was in the kitchen now, not minding the yellow and standing at the sink peeling onions. The handle of a teaspoon sticking out of the corner of her mouth.
“What are you doing?” Rachel laughed, perching herself on a stool. “You’re not sucking spoonfuls of chocolate spread again are you? What have I told you about that?!”
Polly rolled her eyes. “It’s supposed to stop you crying.” She said, waving a chocolate free spoon in the air.” What’s- his- name on the tele swears by it.”
“And does it?”
“No. I’m blabbing like a baby. But what’s up with you? You’re looking remarkably chipper. Don’t tell me you’ve been promoted again?”
“Again! What do’ya mean again? I haven’t been promoted once yet.”
“Yeah, I know, but it sounded better. So what’s up? Why the big grin?”
“I’ve met someone.”
Polly laid down the spoon. “What do you mean, you’ve met someone? You’ve got someone. Simon. The psychotic menace.”
Rachel ignored the barbed comment. “Yes, I know. But I’ve met someone else and she’s wonderful. Polly, you won’t believe what she did to me! I can hardly believe it myself. I didn’t even know she was_”
Polly stopped her. “Whoa! Hang on a minute! She? You mean you’ve met another woman?! Christ, Rachel it wasn’t that long ago you were crying your heart out because that stupid cow from the nightclub dumped you.”
Polly knew all about Rachel being gay. She’d known ever since University when staggering home from a particularly heavy night in the pub, Rachel had made her sit down whilst she’d spilled out everything in a very slurry confession. Boys, she’d slurred, didn’t interest her at all! They were rough and smelly and they kissed like hoover bags on heat, although having said that, she had gone out with one for about six months when she’d been nine. But that didn’t really count. She’d been young and impressionable and likely to go out with anyone who had a whole collection of Power Ranger cards. But she didn’t really like them –boys. She liked girls. Soft, warm, lovely girls. Boys were nasty, smelly creatures who couldn’t kiss for toffee. Girls were..
She’d trailed off then, a slightly soppy grin on her face as Polly, half cut herself and not entirely sure what Rachel was saying was entirely true, merely shook her head and suggested they went to bed. They could talk again tomorrow.
In the morning, however, over strong, black coffee and only marginally burnt toast, they’d had another go. This time with clearer heads and a great deal more embarrassment on Rachel’s behalf.
Not that Polly had allowed her to squirm for long. Waiting for Rachel to pause long enough to sip her coffee, she’d shuffled her chair across the floor and reassuringly squeezed her shoulder. What did she care if Rachel was gay? She’d soothed. It didn’t bother her. In fact, if anything, it was a good thing. Less competition in the old dating stakes and all that, which was fine with her. But there was one thing that worried her and Rachel had to be totally honest about this. She didn’t fancy her did she?
Biting into a slice of toast, Rachel had vehemently shook her head. No, of course she didn’t fancy her. It wasn’t that Polly wasn’t pretty or anything, it was just that she was her mate, her surrogate sister, the person she turned to in times of trouble, and fancying her just wouldn’t be right, even if her long, dark hair and the way it lifted in the breeze did sometimes make her catch her breath.
But Polly didn’t know that and she never would and satisfied that Rachel wouldn’t be pouncing on her whilst she slept, she’d let out a great sigh of relief and poured more coffee, suggesting shopping and a trip to the pictures to change the subject and thus bringing to an end the subject of Rachel’s sexuality. And there it had stayed. Understood but rarely spoken of. Polly brought home boys. Rachel brought home girls. A little confusing around the breakfast table on occasion, but on the whole an amicable arrangement. Until Rachel got hurt and Polly got cross. Like with the girl from the nightclub.
“So where are we now?” Polly asked, sounding confused as she chopped slices of onion into tiny pieces. “I thought after ‘bitch face’ you were through with dating girls? If I remember rightly you said you were sick of being gay and were only going to go out with guys until one of them turned you straight! Which as you might recall I said was a pile of crap! So what’s happened to change all that?”
“ I met Kate.”
“Oh, right. Kate. So does this mean you’re back to being gay again? Or only until she breaks your heart? God, Rach, why do you do this to yourself? You know you like girls. I know you like girls, so why are you putting yourself in these impossible situations? Because you know what you’re going to have to do now you’ve met this ‘wonderful girl’ don’t you? You’re going to have to dump Simon and he is not going to be pleased, especially as he thinks he’s the love of your life.”
“Well, he’s not.”
“Clearly. But how the hell are you going to tell him? The guy’s bordering on psychotic, Rachel. He’s gonna go mental when he finds out he’s been dumped for a girl.”
Rachel didn’t answer and disgruntled she left the kitchen, wandering into the lounge where she flopped down on the sofa. Polly, smelling strongly of onions, joined her. “ You’re going to have to be careful my love.” She said, taking her friend’s hand and squeezing it tight. “ When you tell him I mean. Look what he did to you last winter. Making you walk all the way home just because you weren’t wearing the shoes he liked. It was bloody raining as well. And freezing cold.”
“I know.”
“So..?”
“So, I
don’t know!” Rachel snapped back. “I haven’t had a chance to think about it yet. God, Polly, I was really happy when I walked in here, thanks for ruining it!”
Polly looked shocked. “Hey it’s not me that can’t make up their mind if they want to go out with Harry or Harriet. And I’m not trying to ruin anything, I’m just concerned for you that’s all. Simon is a weirdo. It worries me what he might do to you.”
That night Rachel lay in bed and thought of Kate.
Outside, the Autumn night shivered under a smattering of rain, and fallen leaves driven by a stiff wind, scuttled like hurrying feet across the damp, speckled pavement.
Snuggled beneath her duvet and listening to the faint sound of the TV coming from Polly’s bedroom, she lightly touched her breasts. Kate had touched her there, she smiled. The last person to do so, and if she had her way, the only person to do so from now on. Providing of course she accepted Kate’s offer of being her girlfriend.
She’d wanted to the minute she’d made it back upstairs, but by the time she’d found the file she wanted, ( not an easy task when her hands were trembling and her orgasm had left her knees almost incapable of holding her up) and then scurried past the horrible, black hole of the squash court to the bright lights of the offices above, Kate had left to attend a meeting. A meeting that ironically had taken place in one of the brand new conferences rooms in the basement, which Rachel had blithely walked past, unaware that Kate was watching her through the port hole in the door, willing her to look her way.
Still, there was always tomorrow and wrapping herself deeper in her duvet, Rachel turned out the light and wondered what she should wear?
The note was already on her desk when she arrived a quarter of an hour late. She had meant to be on time, the same as always, but she hadn’t been able to decide what to wear and that’s when the nightmare had started. She’d wanted to look good when she said yes to Kate, that much was obvious. Smart but sassy. Pretty but not sluttish. Her aim to make Kate’s eyes stand out on stalks but for no one else to notice. She wanted, as Polly so kindly put it, the kind of miracle last seen on the banks of Jordan. She also wanted at least three hours more than she actually had!