Nightingale

by Andrea Bramhall

“Beautiful.” The woman smiled, and those full lips taunted her again. The woman’s eyes met hers without a hint of amusement or teasing this time.

  Charlie smiled back, again surprised at how nervous and excited she made her feel. “Yeah, well, thanks for the tip.”

  “I meant you.” Their fingers touched as Charlie took the papers back and the electricity shot along Charlie’s arm. “Meet me in the cafeteria in half an hour. You can get me a coffee as thanks.”

  Charlie knew she was staring, but she couldn’t stop herself. She’d never responded to anyone so quickly before, and her reaction scared her as much as it excited her. She quickly stuffed the papers back into her bag and tried to hide her shaking hands. “Why on earth should I wait for you?”

  “Because you’re curious.”

  Charlie spluttered a laugh. “About what?”

  The woman’s gaze never faltered. “About me.” She turned back to her music with a mischievous smile.

  Charlie was stunned as she backed away from her and left the auditorium. She was through reception and on the college steps before she stopped to think about what the hell had just happened. Adrenaline coursed through her body, and she knew it was her reaction to the woman just as much as from her performance. She stood under the concrete awning and looked out at the street. The rain was still falling, heavier than before, and the raindrops rippled in the puddles created by the uneven paving stones. Cars, bikes, and busses all drove past her, people walked by, and Charlie closed her eyes.

  Running away. Not from the woman behind the piano and her laughing eyes, but from herself. She’d decided to make a fresh start. That’s what coming to university was supposed to be all about. Starting over, taking chances, learning, experiencing, and growing. And here at the first chance she had to meet someone new—someone she found extraordinarily attractive—she was running away. Again.

  What am I so scared of? She didn’t need to ask the question. Not really. She already knew the answer. She was afraid to feel again. Terrified to give her heart and lose it to another woman. The image of Gail filled her mind. No! I’m only twenty-four years old. I can’t live in those painful memories for the rest of my life. I can’t stand by her grave forever. She pushed the vision away and turned back. She found the cafeteria with little problem.

  This was a new beginning, new people in her life, new experiences. Now wasn’t the time to hide behind the memories and fears she had lived with for the past three years. Now was for moving on.

  She was halfway through her second cup when she felt a hand on her shoulder and a voice whispered near her ear.

  “You can hardly tell you aren’t wearing your bra.”

  Charlie’s face burned as the woman sat down opposite her with an amused smile. “Hazaar Alim.” The woman held out her hand and Charlie shook it gently.

  “Charlie Porter.”

  “I know.”

  Charlie knew she was blushing and hoped she wouldn’t regret the impulse to meet with the beautiful pianist as she held the warm, soft hand within her own. It wasn’t until she felt Hazaar’s thumb caress the back of her hand that she realized she was still holding it and quickly let go. “You said you wanted coffee. Do you want milk, sugar?” Charlie started to stand up.

  “I don’t want coffee. I just wanted to talk to you.”

  Charlie’s brow creased. “Why?”

  “Because you sang about me.” She smiled as she sat down. “Hazaar means nightingale in Arabic.”

  “Ah. It was a personal tribute to thank you.”

  Hazaar raised her eyebrow questioningly.

  “For the tip.”

  Her smile returned in full force, and Charlie felt her breath catch in her throat. Hazaar’s flawless mocha-coloured skin glowed, accenting her dark eyes and long lashes. Charlie crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at the table to avoid Hazaar’s searching gaze that made her feel naked and raw. Hazaar reached forward and gently touched her hand, waiting to speak until Charlie looked up.

  “I won’t bite, you know?”

  Charlie laughed nervously and tried to shrug off the anxiety. “So you work here?”

  Hazaar leaned back comfortably in her chair. “Kind of. I finish my degree this year, and I’m hoping to start work on my master’s at the beginning of the coming term.”

  Charlie nodded her head. “Have you picked a topic for your thesis?”

  “Yes. The theory that musical education creates division within our society while other, supposedly less advanced cultures, have no such division.”

  “How can you possibly say that? Music can create unity and solidarity just as easily as division within any society, probably. Just look at football grounds. A group of complete strangers singing songs that their fathers sang before them, supporting people they don’t know, who don’t know them, to do the best that they can.”

  “And trash the opposition. Also singing their songs. And supporting strangers—”

  “But it isn’t the music that creates the division there. It would exist without the music. It’s the nature of the competition that creates the conflict. That builds the tension, not the…” Charlie noticed the smile growing on Hazaar’s face. “You’re making fun of me.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Not at all. I’m simply gathering information.”

  “Opinions for your paper?”

  “No.”

  Charlie tilted her head as she waited for Hazaar to continue.

  “Information about you.”

  “And why do you want to know about me?” The desire in Hazaar’s eyes burned hot and left Charlie with no doubt about what she wanted—or why.

  Hazaar stood up slowly and gathered her bag. She moved around the table and then bent low, whispering in Charlie’s ear. “Because I want to see you without your shirt on again.”

  She walked away from the table and pushed open the doors before Charlie managed to shake herself back to reality and looked over her shoulder. Seeing Hazaar walk out the door propelled her into action. She quickly grabbed her bag and ran after her.

  “You can’t just say something like that and then walk off!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you can’t.”

  “Sure I can.”

  “But—”

  “Look at it this way. If you’d been offended, it would have saved us both a lot of awkwardness and possibly me getting a slap for being cheeky.” Hazaar laughed.

  “Why do I keep feeling like you’re making fun of me?” Charlie shook her head and followed Hazaar out the main doors.

  “Oh no, I’m not making fun.” She stroked her fingers down Charlie’s cheek, and her knees went weak. “I’m not making fun of you, Charlie. I just like to see the funny side of everything.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh yes.” Hazaar’s voice was husky, laced with desire.

  “And that makes everything easier to cope with, does it?”

  “Among other things.”

  “What else makes life easier to cope with?”

  Hazaar picked up Charlie’s hand and brought it to her lips. “The touch of a beautiful woman.”

  Charlie’s head spun and every nerve in her body tingled. Hazaar stroked the inside of her wrist, and her heart beat faster, suffusing her body with pure desire.

  She needed to clear her head a little. She needed to think before she pulled Hazaar into her arms and kissed her where they stood, a girl she’d only just met and didn’t know at all. Charlie cleared her throat and held her hand out, catching raindrops. “So how would you cope with this frizz ball I have on my head now?”

  “I’d get a car.” She pushed the button on the key and Charlie grinned as the lights flashed on a red Beetle in front of her. She watched Hazaar run across the car park and yank open the driver’s door, her long skirt billowing around her ankles. Charlie didn’t move until the passenger door was pushed open and Hazaar leaned across the seat and looked at her through the wet windscreen. The smile on her lips turned
seductive and her eyes sparkled.

  It had been a long time since a woman had smiled at her like that. A smile filled with promise, passion, and pleasure. And Charlie found herself running toward the car before remembering she wasn’t wearing her bra. She checked her speed and made her way quickly, slamming the door firmly closed behind her. Her mind reeled. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m in a car with a complete stranger. A beautiful stranger. But a stranger, nonetheless. Who’s already seen me without my shirt on! She twisted the strap of her bag between her fingers. This isn’t my imagination. This is really happening. Right?

  “So, Charlie Porter, tell me something about yourself.” Hazaar started the engine and laughed as she pulled out of the car park. “God, that sounds like an interview question, doesn’t it?”

  Charlie chuckled, glad that Hazaar didn’t seem to have any problem with the situation. But then, why would she? She was the one who had instigated everything from the moment they’d met. “What would you like to know?”

  “Everything, I think. But I’ll start with the bits you want to tell me.” Charlie stared at her and Hazaar laughed again. “You’re so young.”

  “I’m not that young.”

  “No? How old are you?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  Hazaar’s eyes widened in shock. “Really?”

  Charlie grinned. “Yes, really. I know I look about twelve. Damn freckles. But the good news is I’ll still get asked for ID when I’m forty and I won’t feel so bad about being really old. What about you?”

  “Twenty-six.”

  “Have you done all your studying at RNCM?”

  “Yes. It was a good way to evade the family obligations for a while.”

  Charlie didn’t ask what the family obligations might be, because the scowl that passed over Hazaar’s face made it clear that the topic wasn’t a happy one for her. “Where is your family from?”

  “Bradford.”

  Charlie knew she’d given away her naivety when Hazaar laughed again. She was expecting Pakistan, or Egypt, or somewhere exotic and warm.

  “I travelled a long way to get to Manchester.” She exaggerated a Middle Eastern accent and had them both laughing. “What about you?”

  “I live in Stockport. Born there. Raised there. Bored there.”

  “Still with your parents?”

  “Until I find out what’s going on with my audition, then I can get my student loan applied for and get everything sorted out and get my own place.”

  “You’re in. The letter should get to you by tomorrow or the day after.”

  “Really?”

  Hazaar stopped at a set of traffic lights and turned to look at her. “Really. He loved your audition.”

  Charlie squealed and waved her arms in the air while she danced in her seat, then squealed again as she wrapped her arms around Hazaar’s neck and kissed her on the cheek before she realized what she had done. She pulled back, still wiggling in her seat, then froze. Suddenly, she realized what she was doing, and she could feel the growing heat in her face as her embarrassment peaked. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking…I didn’t…oh shit…I’m really sorry…”

  Hazaar leaned over and kissed her on the lips slowly, gently increasing the pressure until Charlie’s lips parted. Her tongue slid slowly across Charlie’s bottom lip and slipped inside her mouth. Charlie moaned at the soft exploration. Goose bumps broke out across her flesh as Hazaar’s finger’s wound their way into her hair and caressed her scalp, the back of her neck, and down her throat.

  Then it was gone. Charlie’s eyes were still closed as Hazaar pulled away.

  “Should I say I’m sorry?”

  Charlie opened her eyes slowly. Hazaar’s fingers were soft on her skin, and her eyes changed in the light, like honey and cinnamon and chocolate, and Charlie was caught fast. She no longer cared that she knew nothing about this woman. She wanted her. She wanted to touch and be touched. She wanted to feel alive. She felt reckless and impulsive, and that turned her on as much as the woman in front of her. “Only if you don’t do it again.”

  Hazaar’s mouth was on hers, hungrily searching, tasting, and teasing her. Her hands cupped Charlie’s face, holding her firmly as the kiss deepened before one hand slipped into her hair, sending shivers down her spine.

  The blast of a car horn behind them stunned them both from their passion.

  Hazaar threw the car into gear and laughed as she pulled away, and the sound caused a jolt through Charlie’s stomach. The deep, melodic laugh that had attracted her earlier was now mixed with the blatant huskiness of desire and sent ripples through her being.

  I can’t believe I’m doing this! I’m in a car with a stranger going God knows where, with every intention of making love to her. What the hell am I thinking?

  “So what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

  Charlie laughed. “You’d probably think I was crazy.”

  “Try me.”

  Charlie leaned her head against the headrest and took a deep breath. “I was thinking that I must be crazy. I’m in a car with a complete stranger who’s taking me God knows where, knowing that when I get there, wherever there is, all I want to do is rip your clothes off and make love to you. I think I’ve lost my mind.”

  Hazaar laughed again. “I’m glad it’s not just me thinking all that.” Hazaar reached across and held Charlie’s hand. “We don’t have to, though.”

  Charlie waved her other hand at Hazaar. “I know. I’m a big girl. I can say no if I want to.” Charlie stroked her thumb across the back of Hazaar’s hand as she spoke. “Just because I think I might be going crazy doesn’t mean I don’t want to be exactly where I am right now.”

  Hazaar retrieved her hand as she manoeuvred into a parking space. She turned to Charlie. “Well, if you want to stay here, you can. But I’m heading up there.” She pointed to an apartment block and grabbed her bag from the backseat. They both jumped out and ran for the foyer. Hazaar clicked the car locked as she fished her house keys from her bag and opened the door.

  “Where are we, by the way?”

  Hazaar chuckled again. “Didsbury.”

  “Very nice.” Charlie mimicked a mock posh accent as she followed Hazaar to the lift. The tension grew between them as they waited side by side for the lift to stop. The air was thick and heavy, and the scent of Hazaar’s perfume clung to the edges of her senses, a heady mixture of jasmine, spice, and desire. Charlie watched the sway of Hazaar’s hips as she followed her blindly down the hall. She barely registered Hazaar toss her bag onto the chair by the door. She dropped her own as Hazaar’s hands found her waist, pushed her backward, and pinned her against the door. Her lips parted under Hazaar’s hungry kiss, sucking her tongue into her mouth. They moaned together as Hazaar’s fingers began to explore under Charlie’s shirt and raked against her skin. Her lips left Charlie’s and burned a trail across her cheek until Hazaar’s teeth nipped gently at her earlobe. She pressed her head against the door, exposing her throat. Tender kisses followed the opening of each button of her blouse, and she entwined her hands into Hazaar’s hair, eliciting small groans of pleasure from the mouth suckling at her breast. Charlie groaned and pressed her chest forward. She wanted Hazaar’s hands on her, needed to feel her lips and tongue.

  Charlie opened her eyes long enough to see the hunger on Hazaar’s face as she pulled away and lifted her top over her head. All she could see were Hazaar’s full breasts, her nipples straining against the lace fabric that held them captive. She barely noticed as Hazaar removed the rest of her clothing and the delicious pressure of Hazaar’s body fuelled the need building inside her.

  Hazaar pressed her knee between Charlie’s legs and ground hard against her centre as her lips closed over one swollen nipple. Charlie cried out and her hands skittered across Hazaar’s back and down her sides. She felt her trousers loosen and slide down her hips, along with her underwear.

  Hazaar’s thigh ground into her again, and she could feel her desire co
at Hazaar’s leg. Charlie’s breath caught as Hazaar’s fingers stroked over her belly, then dipped lower into the drenched folds of her sex. She clutched at her shoulders and let her head fall back as Hazaar’s hand moved into her faster, and the energy coiled in her core, amplified by every press of Hazaar’s lips until she cried out her release.

  Charlie clung to Hazaar as her breathing returned to normal.

  “Welcome to my home.”

  Charlie laughed sheepishly. “You’re a very gracious hostess.” She kissed Hazaar’s lips gently, her hands finding the clasp of her bra and releasing it. “Do I get the tour?” Hazaar led her through the apartment in a straight line, pointing as she went.

  “Kitchen’s that way. Bathroom over there. TV over there. This is the bedroom.” Charlie pretended to look in the directions Hazaar had pointed, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the gorgeous body in front her.

  “Beautiful. Now let me see if I can properly thank you for that very warm welcome.” She pushed Hazaar back against the bed and eased soft black panties over her hips. “Lie down.” She watched as Hazaar stretched out on the bed, her arms reaching for her.

  She lay down next to her and traced the line of Hazaar’s lips with lazy fingers, down the line of her throat, between her breasts and slowly across the soft flesh of her stomach. She watched as Hazaar’s pupils dilated and turned her eyes so dark they looked black. She caressed Hazaar’s hips and the outside of her thigh as she leaned in to kiss the full lips waiting for her.

  She took her time, enjoying herself and Hazaar’s reaction as she slowly traced her lips with her tongue. Her hands mimicked the achingly slow speed as she completed a fingertip survey of Hazaar’s hips, waist, and ribs, but stopped below her breast. Hazaar tried to twist beneath her in an attempt to make contact where she needed it.

  “No you don’t.” Charlie pulled back slightly. “It’s my turn now.” She dipped her head to blow cold air across her sensitive nipples, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Hazaar.

  “Are you trying to drive me mad?”

  Charlie flicked her tongue across the hard tip, then blew gently again. Hazaar cried out as the nipple contracted further against the cold air that teased the wet, pebbled flesh. “Yes, I am.” Charlie pushed her tongue deep into her Hazaar’s mouth, and she eagerly devoured every moan that escaped her. “How am I doing?” Hazaar was panting and writhing as Charlie drew lazy circles around her breast, still avoiding the aching tips.