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My head rests upon the soft cushion of her breasts, every beat of her heart counting a precious moment we have together. Her fingers caress my back, barely brushing my skin as she runs them up and down my spine. I run my hand up her arm, following the smooth curve of her shoulder. I grip her tightly with my fingers. She makes no sound of complaint as my fingers dig into her delicate flesh. I don’t want to let go of my angel.

I look up into her face. I know every feature of her symmetrical face; the soulful hazel eyes, the full lips, all framed by her soft auburn hair, but that is not the face I see. Before me is the face of a cadaver. Pale, sallow flesh, flaking from the bone, lifeless eyes sunken into the skull, thin dry lips pulled back exposing rotting teeth, clumps of the once beautiful hair lie upon the pillow…

With an anguished cry, my eyes fly open and I sit bolt upright in my bed. My breath comes in short ragged grasps, my heart beat sounds like thunder, my stomach feels tightly twisted into a knot and the bile starts to rise.

I throw the covers to the floor and hurry through into the bathroom. I reach the toilet just as I begin to throw up. It feels like I’m leaning over the toilet for an eternity, tears streaming down my face, mixing with my vomit in the toilet bowl.

When the heaving finally subsides, I fumble upwards and flush the toilet. At the sink I wash my face, rinse my mouth out before cleaning my teeth. I look at my reflection in the mirror. My skin seems pale and there are dark rings around my eyes.

Without looking at a clock, I know it is the early hours of the morning, but there is no chance of me getting anymore sleep. I know every time I try to close my eyes that ghastly vision will infect my mind. So I step into the shower, letting the powerful stream of steaming water massage my body, wiping away the last vestiges of sleep and wishing it could wash away the recollections of my nightmare. I towel myself dry and dress for the day ahead. The first thing I put on, as I do every morning, is a delicate gold chain on which hangs a platinum ring set with a heart shaped ruby, within a cluster of small diamonds.

With a mug of tea, I stand looking out of my apartment’s window onto the city below. Night still lays across the city, but there are the first signs of life returning to the streets. The occasional car glides past, returning home after a night shift or maybe heading to an early start. Trucks rumble by, on their way to deliver the essentials that keep the city moving.

Today is full of ritual for me. It has begun much as I expected with my nightmare. With a fresh mug of tea and a couple of slices of toast, I sit myself in one of the easy chairs in the lounge. I will always think of it as my angel’s chair. The toast is barely buttered, as butterflies continue to flutter about in my stomach. I pick up the book I had laid on the arm of the chair last night, The Wizard of Oz. It was one of her favourites.

The sun rises, flooding my apartment with its warm light. There are still several hours before I have to be at work, but today I have an important task to do before then. I slip on the jacket to my suit, pick up my old, worn work bag and the bouquet of a dozen red roses. I can’t help but inhale their rich, sweet fragrance, bringing back memories of better, happier times. A time when I could deliver my gifts into my angel’s hands.

By the time I reach the street, the sun has been hidden behind leaden clouds, the air is heavy with the threat of rain. Even this early, I have little difficulty hailing a taxi. After giving the driver my destination, I settle back into the seat and my thoughts.

The cab passes through the filling city streets, but I barely notice the building traffic. Only the cabbie announcing we’ve arrived at my destination, brings me back to reality. I pay him and climb out of the cab. Right on cue, a gentle rain begins falling as my gaze trails to the cemetery gates. The heavy, black iron gates with their interwoven vines already stand open. A weather worn angel, the stone strained with rust and lichen stands upon either side, backs to one another their wing tips touching to form an arch.

I follow a familiar path through the cemetery, while the rain continues to patter down softly, it’s cool and gives a scent of freshness to the air. I enjoy the feel of the rain falling upon my face, so I don’t bother rooting in my bag for my umbrella. I know it won’t be long before my tears will mingle with the rainwater upon my face. I prefer to come to the cemetery early in the morning, its quiet, apart from the chatting of the bird, granting the privacy I desire.

I stop before a black granite headstone. Atop its graceful arch, stands an angel, her wings spread protectively over the monument. Unconsciously, my fingers seek the engagement ring I gave my angel that now hangs from the chain about my neck. My eyes look down to the gold lettering of the inscription, slowly I read the elegant script, even though every word is forever engrave in my mind…


Tears stream down my face as I read these words several times to ensure I never forget them, not that I ever could. Bending down, I carefully place the bouquet of red roses at the base of the headstone, beneath the inscription. Amanda always loved red roses. Reaching into my bag, I carefully pull out a package; a small pink teddy bear, wrapped in a clear cellophane bag, tied with a pink bow, which I place by the roses. On the card tied to it I have simply written…


I stay at the grave side for some time, dredging up memories of the time me and my angel, Amanda had together. Quietly I talk, as if she is here with me, reminiscing about all the happy times, the fun and the pleasure. I feel her with me, standing behind me. For a moment, I am sure I feel her fingers lightly rest upon my shoulder, then gripping me as if to tell me everything will be alright. I’m tempted to turn, but my eyes remain fixed upon the headstone.

In the decade since Amanda was cruelly taken from me…us, it has felt as if my life was devoid of joy. The few friends who I’ve remained in contact with, say I have changed; that I rarely smile and they never hear me laugh anymore. The only time I’m happy now is when I think about Amanda.

I kiss my finger tips and put them to the lips of the angel upon the top of the gravestone. Tears flowing anew, in a soft, trembling voice, I say “Sleep well, my love. I’ll come visit you again next year. I promise”. Maybe things won’t hurt so much then…although I have been telling myself that for the last ten years. I walk slowly back through the cemetery, the rain eases to a stop.

I start walking back to the heart of the city and towards work. I have only gone a short distance, when I manage to hail a taxi. I have the driver drop me at a café a short way from the office, where I stop in for a cup of tea. Normally I would have breakfast, but today my stomach still hasn’t settled. I exchange pleasantries with the owner before heading on.

Most of the day passes me by in a blur; small talk with colleagues, barely remembered conversations about business and the lunch time discussions about sports, politics and news stories. I get a phone call during the morning, one that I expected. A woman’s voice greets me, sounding sad and weary “Hello, Robert.”

A half smile creeps onto my face “Hello, Sue.” I answer. Sue is the last link I have to my angel; she’s Amanda’s mother. For the last ten years, we’ve supported one another, trying to move on from our loss.

“I see you’ve already visited my baby’s grave.” I hear a sob, down the phone Sue failed to hide. We always try to be strong for one another, but we don’t always succeed.

“Yeah, I went before I started work.”

A quiet chuckle comes over the phone “As usual, Robert. You must never sleep the night before…?” Sue’s voice is edged with concern.

“No…not very well anyway…” My voice trails off as visions of my nightmare fill my mind. I have never told anyone about my nightmares, especially not Sue.

“Well,” She continues “I was just calling to make sure you were coming to dinner tonight. I’ll be cooking Amanda’s favourite.”

I smile, recalling happier times; the three of us eating dinner together, Sue fussing after us in her motherly way. “Of course I’ll be there. I should be with you between six-thirty and seven. I’ll be sure to pick up some wine.”

As I leave the building at the end of the day. I notice a small group of co-workers, clustered nearby. I know several by sight, only one by name, a secretary named Jess; a brunette in her early twenties, maybe a little plain but always friendly and cheerful. Being a Friday night they are probably heading off for a drink. I’m about to head on to the local store, when a cheerful greeting is called out to Jess. I glance round to see a petite, young woman rushing over. A broad smile stretches across her pretty face as she approaches the group, her short blond hair seems to bounce with a life of its own as she approaches the group with an energetic bound in her step. For a moment, I find myself captivated by the attractive young woman. Then, with a shake of my head I head on to the store.

At the store, I’m particularly pleased to find a bottle of Amanda’s favourite wine. I also buy some flowers for Sue, as I always do when we meet each year. This year I select a dozen roses which are a delicate shade of pink fading to white in the centre and have a wonderfully sweet scent.

The taxi drive to the suburbs where Sue lives is slowed by the evening traffic, but I still arrive only just after six-thirty. From the sidewalk I look over the house, noting the fresh coat of paint it’s received since last year. A row of rose trees have been planted in the flower beds on either side of the path. Each is dotted with vibrant red blooms that nod in the slight breeze. As I walk between them I am enveloped by their rich, heady fragrance.

I ring the doorbell and hear it chime somewhere inside. The door is opened almost immediately by a short woman of sixty, her greying hair fixed in a neat bun, her hazel eyes have long lost the shine they had when we first met, now they are tired and weary. She’s neatly but plainly dressed in a cream blouse and black slacks. We embrace, without exchanging a word. We both have a lot to say, but for now words are unnecessary.

Easing out of my arms, she looks up at me, a small smile comes to her lips and her hand softly touches my cheek “You look well, Robert.”

“Thank you, and you look as lovely as ever, Sue”

“Thank you. Well, come in.” I step into her home, which is clean and well organised. The smell of meat, cooking in a rich, tomato sauce assails my nose.

“I managed to find this.” I say holding out the wine.

Sue’s face brightens as she recognises the label on the bottle. “Amanda always love this wine. She loved its fruity, vibrant flavour.”

“And these are for you.” I say passing the bouquet to Sue.

“They’re beautiful. Such a wonderful colour.” Inhaling their scent, she sighs “Oh, and what a lovely fragrance. Thank you, Robert.” She hugs me again. “I’ll go sort these out, you make yourself comfortable. There’s still some of that whiskey you like in the cabinet.”

Sue disappears into the kitchen, while I wander through to the lounge and head straight to the drinks cabinet. I find the whiskey; Sue keeps it for my annual visit and I pour myself a large measure. Then I get Sue a glass of brandy, setting it on the table beside her easy chair. I lower myself onto the sofa, shrugging off my jacket and loosen my tie. Briefly my fingers wander to the ring hanging upon its delicate chain.

Sue comes in, spotting the brandy she smiles “You’re always so thoughtful Robert” She says “That’s one of the things Amanda always said she loved most about you.” For a moment she looks thoughtful and distant, as if she’s recalling an old memory. There’s a lot of that going on today.

We touch our glasses together and I take a sip of my whiskey, I saviour the flavour as the fiery, amber liquid slips down my throat. We start talking about what we’ve been doing since we last saw each other. The normal sort of small talk, of friends who haven’t seen each other for a while. I talk about work and my sister, my only family. Sue tells me about trips she has taken with friends and what she’s done in the garden. I mention the rose trees she has planted and how Amanda would have loved them.

Over dinner we continue to talk but our conversation turns to Amanda. We start reminiscing about happier times when my angel blessed us with her wit and charm. Sue often mentions Amanda’s childhood and her time at university. We both laugh as I remember being terrified the first time I met Sue. Birthdays, Christmases and holidays spent together all full of joy and happiness. We laugh and smile together, but always there is that sadness that the one who gifted us with all these memories is now gone.

As we clear things away; I insist on helping despite Sue’s protests, the stories continue to flow. Then, I fix us both a drink and take my accustomed seat on the sofa. Sue surprises me by sitting down next to me rather than in her easy chair. For the first time one of us has broken the rituals of the day. I wonder at this change, but say nothing. It is soon forgotten as we begin once more to talk of Amanda. Frequently my eyes drift up to a series of photographs that decorate the wall. They are all of my angel, Amanda from when she was just a baby cradled in her mother’s arms to a beautiful woman encircled by the arms of her lover, me. This last photo always brings a lump to my throat.

As the night draws to a close and I’m thinking it’s about time for me to call a taxi, Sue unexpectedly places her hand upon mine. “Robert…” She says softly “…every year when we meet you tell me the same things. Works good, your sister’s fine…you never tell me anything different. You always sound so sad and lonely. Don’t you ever go on holiday, go out or look for a girlfriend…?”

Sue has caught me by surprise, she has never spoken to me about these things before. Her sudden concern for me leaves me unable to find my voice.

Maybe she realises I don’t know what to say or maybe she has rehearsed this speech, ready for when I arrived today. “I know you’re a wonderful, caring man; my baby wouldn’t have loved you the way she did otherwise.” She smiles and squeezes my hand. “You have always been so thoughtful and such a gentleman towards me. You’re handsome…any woman would be lucky to have you, so why do you insist on being alone?”

“My heart still belongs to Amanda.” My voice trembles with emotion. “How can I love another woman?”

“Do you think this is how Amanda would have wanted you to live your life?” She says sternly. “My baby would want you to live! For yourself and for her! She would understand you finding a new love. She would never forgive you if you spent the rest of your life sad and lonely.”

I stare, wide-eyed at Sue. The words sting me to my core. My throat seems tight and dry leaving me unable to speak. Amanda would always be in my heart, but I know her mother’s words are right. Amanda was full of life and energy, she had an infectious, adventurous spirit that was impossible to resist.

“Robert…” Sue says softly, breaking into my thoughts “…please…for me…for Amanda…for yourself…go out…meet people…do things…just don’t waste your life. Please.”

I wonder what has suddenly brought on Sue’s concern. True, she has watched out for my wellbeing before, but never like this, never so openly. My eyes search her face, her brow furrowed with worry, her lips pressed together with determination. Finally, softly I say “I’ll think about what you’ve said. I promise.”

Sue’s face brightens and she seems to relax, releasing the pressure on my hand. She smiles “Don’t just think about it…do it!”

“Okay” I reply.

Without missing a beat, Sue starts talking about her plans for the coming year; travelling with friends, more changes to the garden, doing some charity work…. I listen thinking about my plans. Well, I don’t have any, since losing my angel I’ve just lived one day at a time.

The time comes for me to leave. With my taxi waiting, Sue walks with me to the door, we embrace, Sue seems to hold on to me a little longer than usual, or it might be my imagination. She steps back, placing a hand on my chest, her fingers touch the ring I wear about my neck, the engagement ring I gave Amanda. She smiles. “I have something for you.”

She chuckles at my look of surprise. She hands me a neatly wrapped parcel. The paper is pale pink, with white angels decorating it. A dark red ribbon binds it together. Seeing my uncertainty about accepting this gift, she places it in my hand, wrapping my fingers round it.

“I found the courage to go through my baby’s things this year.” I hear the emotion in her voice. Sue had struggled as much as me to come to terms with her daughter’s death. It took her five years just to go into Amanda’s room. Before she had just stood in the doorway, unable to go any further.

“I know she wanted you to have this.” I hear her take a deep breath “Please don’t open it until you get home…Promise?”

“I promise.”

“And please, Robert, think about what I said.” A broad smile comes to Sue’s lips as a thought occurs to her. “When you’ve found yourself a nice girl, I’ll want to meet her.”

I hug Sue once more “Sure.”

We say our goodbyes, I kiss Sue on the cheek and walk to the waiting cab.

By the time I get home it’s close to midnight. I drop my work bag just inside the door. Going to my desk I carefully put down the package I have kept safely in hand for my entire journey home. Going through to the bedroom, I hang up my jacket and take off my tie and shoes. With a freshly brewed cup of tea I return to my desk and ease myself into the chair. I feel nervous, excited and maybe a little scared as my fingertips touch the gift…


Peace

Fixxgiggle

Thanks Maron

More will follow soon...as to the happy ending...?

Peace

Fixxgiggle

Wow ...what an excellent piece and I can't help but wonder if this is a story close to your heart

Smiles

Amethyst

It is, although the circumstances are different the emotions are the same.

Peace

Fixxgiggle

Its a touching story and very intriguing. I cant believe you didn't let us know what the gift was.... that was mean.

Looking forward to reading more.   

Oh  yeah....   you have 30 days to write a story for the contest. Details below.   You really didn't think, I wouldn't try to recruit you... Did you?

Well done.  Its a great start to an interesting story.  Please make Robert happier soon.

Every qualifying contest story receives  600A$ ,  more if you are voted in the top three.

Here's the links for you to check out -

EROTIC STORY CONTEST 10 - War Time Romance (or Lust)

Forum Home Page > Announcements > Forum News > EROTIC STORY CONTEST 10-WAR TIME ROMANCE (or LUST)
http://www.funnyadultgamesplay.com/forum/index.php/topic,3824.0.html

EROTIC STORY CONTEST RULES.

Forum Home Page > Organizations & Events > Contests > EROTIC STORY CONTEST RULES. http://www.funnyadultgamesplay.com/forum/index.php/topic,2509.0.html

Good luck.

 

Thanks Brandy.

And I might have an idea for the competition. (No promises  )

Peace

Fixxgiggle

I feel nervous, excited and maybe a little scared as my fingertips touch the gift given to me by Sue, my late fiancée’s mother. It was something that Amanda had wanted me to have, Sue had said as she gave it to me. I feel the shape of the white angels embossed upon the pink paper, as I continue to softly run my fingers over the surface. Part of me is reluctant to open it, worried as to the emotions and memories the unknown content of this parcel might dredge up.

Looking over the package, I realise I’m putting off opening it. I have a sip of tea, take a deep breath, before I start to gently pull the dark red ribbon that binds the paper. I put the ribbon to one side and carefully open the paper. I can feel the quality of the wrapping, thick and crisp. With my fingertips I part the paper to reveal the gift within.

Laying on the wrapping paper is a notebook with a cover of deep red. I know instinctively from the colour it belonged to Amanda. Unconsciously, I trace the outline of the heart shaped ruby on the ring suspended upon the chain around my neck. As I do this, my other hand is gently stroking the notebook’s cover, feeling its velvet softness. I know this is one of Amanda’s journals.

Amanda was dedicated to her journal. She would write in it several times a day. She had dozens of notebooks, going back to her schooldays when she first started writing. My angel once invited me to look at her journals, saying there should be no secrets between us. I was the only person to whom she ever granted that privilege. As I continue to caress the soft cover, I remember her laughing at me when I declined and her asking me why. I told her knowing she was prepare to share her journal with me was enough. I touch my lips, as I recall the deep, passionate kiss that followed.

Snapping back to the present, my fingers find the edge of the front cover and I slowly open it. When I see the date of the first entry, I let out an involuntary gasp, my hand covering my mouth. Instantly I know this must be the last volume of her journal. I can already feel the tears welling up in my eyes, as I realise this is going to be difficult for me to read.

I swallow the remains of my tea; it won’t be the last of the night by a long way, and begin to read. In her beautiful, curving handwriting, Amanda recorded so much, both events and her feelings, some things that seemed trivial took on special meaning to her. Every day, she wrote about how happy she felt with me.

Gradually I begin to notice a change in Amanda’s handwriting; the curves begin to lose their smoothness and extravagant tails fade too soon, even before the first mention of her illness and her failing strength. There were good days and bad, although as time went on the good became less frequent. There were days when she couldn’t rise herself out of bed and it took all my will not to show how it was affecting me. In truth, she knew, but never said, except here in her journal.

On the good days, Amanda lived life with a wild passion. She would be needy for the attention only I could give her. We would make love until Amanda was exhausted, but even then she didn’t want to stop. I would hold her tight to me, both enjoying the feel of our joined bodies. Every time we made love it was like my angel feared it would be the last time.

Mentions of her illness, deteriorating health and increasingly frequent visits to see doctors are written without bitterness or despair. She writes about me and how, with each of my acts of selfless kindness she grows to love me more.

As Amanda’s diary draws ever closer to her last days, the entries become shorter, less frequent and her handwriting reflects her ever failing strength. My angel knew her life was drawing to a close, but even then she only had thoughts for others; her friends, her mother Sue and especially for me. She knew how deep my feelings were for her. She wanted me to find another woman to be happy with, who I would love as I loved her.

Mugs of tea have kept me going throughout the night, as I carefully read every word, every sentence. Often I’m fighting through my tears to read the words upon the pages. Sometimes it becomes too much, and I stand gazing out the window, trying to gather my shattered thoughts.

I come to what proves to be the last entry Amanda was to make in her journal, before she succumb to the disease that consumed her. Her handwriting weak and shaky, every word a struggle. Only her determination to make this one last entry seeing her through to the end. The last entry is a letter, and now I understand why Sue knew Amanda wanted me to have this notebook. The letter is addressed to me.


“To my dear, sweet beloved Robert

I know my time upon this earth is drawing to a close.

I know there is no point telling you not to grief for me, your love is too great. You have always told me you will hold me in your heart forever and I know that to be true.

But your heart is big enough to hold another. When I am gone, please, I beg you, don’t close your heart, but find someone else. Welcome them and love them as you have me

You have always called me your angel, soon I am destined to join the angels. I promise I will look over you and those you love. I will guide you when you need it. And I will love you forever.

When the time comes for us to meet again in the land of angels, I will be there ready to greet you, to hold you in my arms again and to love you for all eternity. And I will love any you have given your heart to since our parting.

Until I see you again, my love. I will watch over you and love you.

Our love is eternal.

Always you Angel.

Amanda.”


I collapse forward, burying my face in my arms, as sobs rake through my body. I grasp for air, as tears flow in an uncontrollable torrent.
Then I feel a calming presence. A soothing hand gently stroking my back. A soft, kind voice telling me everything will be alright. As I rise my tear stained face, I’m certain I catch a glimpse of a figure from the corner of my eye. Beautiful auburn hair flowing in the air, wings of white feathers trailing behind. I feel her move close again, her lips press to my cheek.

No matter how close she gets, I can never manage to focus on her.

I rub my eyes. It’s dawn. I’ve been awake more than twenty-four hours; my mind must be playing tricks on me. I’m tired and emotionally drained. I undress, wash and head to bed. Laying in bed on my side, I’m sure I feel someone lay beside me. A slender arm wraps round me, the soft curves of a woman press against me, lips plant kisses upon the back of my neck. The tender caresses comfort me as I drift off to sleep, even though I know it’s just my imagination.

Peace

Fixxgiggle

Wow ! ...JUST wow ! .... Now THIS is how you write a story .. Hope I can become as good but I doubt it ..I just dont have the time ..

Peace and Hugs

Thanks Amethyst

Now the pressures on! 

And you know, already I love your writing 

Giggling to myself again.

Fixxgiggle

I must confess I am in the process of a little writing of my own

Nice to hear. Looking forward to it.

Giggling, I've got the pies hehe!

Fixxgiggle

Breaking habits formed over ten years is difficult. When those habits are so loaded with emotion, it becomes even harder. I read Amanda’s letter every morning to remind myself I need to change. To begin with, I feel I’m doing it for my angel, but the realisation quickly comes to me that I need to do it for myself. I will never be happy alone. While I cling to the memories of the past so tightly, Amanda’s ghost will haunt me and she would never have wanted that. She will always be with me, but now I have to loosen my grip and move forward with my life.

On Friday I arrive at work as normal ahead of my assistant. I grab the mail off his desk and head into my office. One of the letters slips out from the middle of the pile, dropping onto the floor. For a moment I stand, staring down at it. Amongst the collection of the usual white and manila envelopes this pink one stands out. I scoop it up and head to my desk.

With my curiosity tweaked, I look over the pink envelope. In one corner there is a little spray of fireworks, surrounding where my name has been neatly written by a clearly feminine hand. I open it to find a card inside, the same shade of pink, with fireworks exploding into a spray of stars and hearts. Reading inside I see it’s an invitation to a birthday party tonight, for Jess, a secretary in the accounts department, being held at a local night club’s event room. The invite is signed Gemma. I know Jess as she’s normally the person I speak to when I need anything from accounts; she’s always so friendly and cheerful.

When Paul, my P.A., arrives I pushes thoughts of this unexpected invitation from my mind, as I casually cast the card to one side. I set up the day’s agenda with him, before getting to work to ensure all the weekly deadlines are met. Late in the morning, Paul appears in the doorway asking what I want for lunch. As I consider, I notice the invitation card is standing up. I know that’s not how I left it and I’m sure I hear a familiar giggle, answering my puzzled expression. “Have it your way, then.” I say in a whisper.

Paul clearly heard, as he gives me a puzzled look “Sorry…?” He asks. I tell him not to worry, and I’ll be going out at lunchtime. He fails to hide his surprise, as in the three and a half years he’s been my P.A., I’ve never gone out for lunch.

I spend some time searching for things on the internet. “Now you’ve got me doing personal stuff on company time.” I chuckle. The only answer, again is that unforgettable, quiet giggle of Amanda’s that would come whenever I gave in to her demands. I feel a hand lightly brush across my back and a sweet scent I recognise teases my nose. Barely above a whisper, my angel’s voice says “I’m just helping you find happiness, my love.”

Armed with the collected information, I head out the office. The puzzled looks from colleagues so familiar with my habits bring a smile to my face. My first stop is a nearby jewellery store. The assistant helps me pick out a suitable gift, a necklace with a small teardrop shaped ruby hanging from it. Wrapping paper and a card are brought from a gift shop and a box of bespoke honey oat cookies from the bakery. Finally, I grab something for my lunch before heading back to the office. The presents are soon wrapped and lunch eaten.

Having been delayed leaving work, the night club is heaving by the time I arrive. Not a surprise for a Friday night. Making my way through the sea of bodies I get to the relative tranquillity of the event room, where Jess’ party is being held. The room is square, with deep red walls, pools of illumination provided by black, cone shaped down lighters. Racks of inactive spotlights and lasers are mounted in the rafters. Music plays in the background, and I allow myself a smile, pleased that the party hasn’t really started yet.

I scan round the room, recognising many of the people here from work, although many I only know by sight. Most are from the accounts department. At the bar I spot the department head, John Gates, who I’ve known for many years, back to when I was engaged to Amanda. He’s one of the few people on the firm who knows what I went through. When he spots me, I nod in greeting. The surprise of seeing me here almost makes him choke on his drink.

Jess is at the centre of a small group standing off to one side. This was clearly a surprise party, as Jess is still in her work clothes of a white blouse and black skirt. I can’t deny being pleased to see she has her petite blond friend with her. She is shorter than the rest of the group and stands with Jess, the two have their arms round one another waists. The blond is wearing a peach coloured, party dress, short and low cut, with cute ankle boots. She seems to smile when she spots me, standing on tip toe she whispers something in Jess’ ear.

Jess looks towards me and suddenly I’m aware that she’s not the only one. To be honest, I should have expected this. Most people will only have seen me wandering the corridors at work or in my office, wearing the same sullen look on my face day in, day out. Jess steps towards me, smiling warmly, her brown hair swinging wildly in a ponytail. “Hello, Robert.” She says extending her hand to me.

I take her hand, then on a whim, I surprise her by kissing her on both cheeks. ”Happy Birthday, Jess” I say between kisses, and I’m sure I see her blush.

“I’m glad you came.” She says quietly. I hand her the gifts I’ve brought, which she opens eagerly, reminding me of an excited child. Opening the cookies first she grins “Hmm my favourite.” Then she rips into the wrapping round the necklace. When she sees it the look of delight on her face lifts my heart and I know there’s an idiotic grin spread across my face, but I don’t care. “Oh my God, it’s beautiful!” She shows her blond friend who gasps and helps Jess put on the necklace.

Jess throws her arms around me, hugging me tightly to her body. I place my hands on her waist as I receive a big, wet kiss on each cheek. For a moment, she seems to be thinking about planting one on my mouth too, but hesitates, saying “Thanks you so much. It’s beautiful.” She tightens her hug on me once more, and I feel a surge of excitement course through me. It’s been a long time since a girl has held me like this. Her mouth wanders closer to my ear, and she whispers “Thank you.”

I smile “Glad you like it. Enjoy you party.”

I leave Jess with her friends, making my way over to the bar acknowledging several co-workers I know on the way. I spot my P.A. Paul, gawking at me past his puzzled boyfriend. His expression makes me laugh; this is going to be happening a lot tonight, I suspect. At the bar I take the stool next to John, his expression tells me he has been watching me the whole time. “Hi John.”

He glances at me grinning “Well, this is certainly unexpected.” His eyes go from me to Jess and her group of friends “Well, Robert, you’ve certainly made an impression.” I get a beer and begin chatting with John. I can tell he’s curious about my presence, but is unsure how to ask. For now I’m happy to leave people wondering, as I honestly don’t know how I would answer that question. Others stop and chat briefly, before moving on, all burning with curiosity about my presence.

I’m saved from any questions I’d rather avoid for the time being, when the room lights dim and the music’s volume is turned up. The spotlights and lasers start playing across the room in time with the music. The floor lights up in an ever changing pattern of technicoloured squares. Jess and her friends are the first onto the dance floor, with others soon following. John and I are happy to watch from the bar.

I’m just finishing my beer when someone pulls on my hand. I look up to see Jess, smiling warmly, the top few buttons on her blouse undone, leaving her exposing some cleavage. She leans in close, and I have to try hard not to focus on the tempting view she’s offering “It’s nice to see you smile,” she says “dance with me.”

I laugh a warning “I have two left feet.”

“That’s alright, I’ve got two right feet. Between us we should be okay.” She takes my other hand and pulls on them together. I don’t resist and allow her to guide me onto the dance floor. I allow myself to relax, to enjoy the music and the company. Jess gyrates to the music, at times the buttons on her blouse seem ready to give out as they strain against her boobs. We dance together through several songs, unconsciously moving closer, at times our bodies touching. She spins, putting her back to me, I slip my hands onto her hips. She glances over her shoulder, smiling as she moves against me, grinding her butt against me. My heart beat quickens and I feel my growing excitement.

The song ends. “I’m gonna get a drink. You want one?” She shakes her head, her hair flying. Back at the bar, I see Jess is now once again dancing with her friends. I stand nursing my beer, lost in a confusion of thought and emotion. A lot is happening, very quickly.

Later in the evening, I find myself beside Jess once more. Her rosy complexion suggests she’s had a few drinks, but she is still steady on her feet. “Hey, Robert” she says with a grin, slipping her arm round my waist. “My friend wants to meet you. Do you mind?” I readily agree and Jess leads me across to where her friends are waiting. She leads me straight to the petite blond. “Robert, this is Gemma. Gemma, Robert.”

Gemma greets me warmly, and Jess excuses herself as a favourite song starts and heads out onto the dance floor. We are soon seated at the bar, me with a whiskey and Gemma with a Pina Colada. I jokingly ask her if this is a test she puts men through, to see if they are brave enough to bring her a drink with a pink umbrella in it. She giggles, admitting nothing but it seems I’ve hit a nice icebreaker and we’re soon chatting cheerfully.

When she asks about Jess’ and the general surprise at my appearance, I shuffle in my seat uncomfortably. I knew sooner or later someone would ask, maybe I should have prepared an answer. Gemma seems to sense my discomfort and reaches a hand across, lightly touching mine. “Have I said something wrong?” Her face lined with concern.

“I don’t normally come out to events like this.” I say, managing to smile weakly. “This isn’t the time to talk of such things; this is a celebration.”

When I feel Gemma’s hand grip mine, I look into her face, to see her looking concerned. Clearly sensing my sudden sadness, despite my smile she ask “I hope I haven’t said something to upset you?” Not wanting to ruin the moment, I assure her everything is fine, and ask her to dance. She agrees eagerly.

She hops down off her stool and allows me to lead her by the hand out onto the dance floor. Standing next to her I’m aware just how small she is; more than a foot shorter than me, she feels small and delicate. We constantly exchange glances, smiling at one another and stealing small, tender touches. Gemma never brings her body close enough for us to touch as Jess did, but there seems something more intimate in the small, stolen touches we share.

We retreat to the bar once more for a fresh round of drinks. We chat more, our faces close together so we can hear one another over the music, but it also brings a feeling of intimacy. We are interrupted when I’m called upon to dance with the birthday girl again. I look apologetically at Gemma, but she gives me a smile of encouragement.

Jess and I dance together through several songs. Before the end of the first, our bodies are close together. My hands rest at her waist, as her boobs brush against me. Sliding my hands down onto her shapely rump Jess giggles at the touch of my hands. I pull her in closer, looking into her face which is flushed pink. Her hands snake up behind my neck, pulling us still closer together. Her breasts crush up against my chest. She presses against my groin, the thrill of the contact sending my blood racing. Our lips hover close, the smallest move and we would be kissing. The song ends, and we part.

I have just seated myself on a stool at the bar when I find Gemma slipping onto the one next to me. As her blue eyes study me, I feel embarrassed, sure she has been watching the way I’ve just been dancing with her best friend. She crosses her legs, the short skirt of her dress riding up, her lovely trim legs captivate me. Only when she speaks, am I able to pull my eyes away “You look like you could use another drink.” She smiles. I nod my thanks, not trusting my voice.

She hands me a beer while the bartender mixes her a cocktail, I have no idea what she’s drinking, but it’s pink, creamy and has sparklers in it. She laughs at the expression on my face when I see her drink. “You always such a party animal?” She asks.

“I haven’t been to a party like this for more than ten years” I reply, giving a little shrug, I add ”guess I’m trying to make up for lost time.”

She smiles, laying a soft hand upon my knee she moves a little closer. “Just tell me you’re not some sort of player. The way you’ve been dancing with me and Jess, a girl might get that idea.”

I feel myself blush as I realise just how things must look. I find myself lost for words, not sure how to answer. Gemma’s pleasant, musical laughter breaks into my confused thoughts and a playful nudge from her elbow draws my attention back to her. “I’m teasing,” She says “Jess has always been a flirty drunk. You wouldn’t believe how many broken hearts have been left on the dance floor in her wake after a drunken night out.” Gemma’s eyes are focused out onto the dance floor. I follow her gaze and see Jess dancing with a man, in much the same way she danced with me.

I’m actually relieved when I hear this, quickly relaxing once more. As we talk, I find it hard to keep my eyes off Gemma’s wonderful legs. I’m barely aware that I’ve put my hand on her knee as we talk until I see it there. I start to withdraw it, but Gemma places her hand on mine, keeping it in place, smiling at me warmly. Her leg is so smooth, that I can’t resist slowly stroking her silky skin. She fails to stifle a giggle escaping from her lips. Moving closer she rest her head against my shoulder. “You have nice warm hands.” She says quietly, before kissing me quickly on the cheek. When my surprised gaze falls on her, she is smiling with her cheeks glowing wonderfully.

The first cords of another song has Gemma jumping off her stool and pulling me to the dance floor. “We have to dance to this song.” She says in an excited voice, the light in her eyes make it impossible for me to resist. The song is slow and romantic, with only one way to dance to it; close, slow and intimate. She holds her small body against me, I can feel every movement and I realise I don’t want this moment to end.

I stay until the party is winding down, until I’m the only one left with Jess, Gemma and their friends. I had planned to stay for only a couple of hours, but…

At home I lay in bed, waiting to drift off to sleep. My thoughts are full of the events of the day just gone, and especially the party. If I’m honest, I hadn’t expected to enjoy it, but I had a wonderful time and met two lovely girls. In Jess, I know I have a friend, in truth I think I did before tonight. And Gemma, just thinking about her stirs feelings I haven’t felt in a long time. I know I want, no need, to see her again. I feel a soft hand stroking my chest, and lips upon my cheek. As I fall into a contented sleep my last thoughts are of a slow dance with Gemma, while my angel, Amanda looks on from above, smiling approvingly.

I wake the morning after the party later than usual, another departure from my normal habits. The memories of yesterday’s celebration play back through my mind, smiling as I lay gazing up at the ceiling. That’s when in hits me. I sit up sharply “Fuck!” I virtually shout the word. I never normally swear but the realisation that just came to me would make anyone curse.

I forgot to get Gemma’s number!

The bed covers are thrown angrily onto the floor and I stomp my way through to the kitchen to make a mug of tea. As I stand, looking out over the city, sipping my tea I gradually calm myself. All I have to do is wait until Monday. I’ll see Jess and she’ll be able to give me Gemma’s number. Although this thought offers some reassurance, I’m still annoyed I didn’t ask. What if Gemma thinks I’m not interested?

Pushing these thoughts aside, I set about my Saturday morning chores. Amongst my jobs is to take a couple of suits to the cleaners. I follow my usual routine of checking through all the pockets, even though I know they’ll be empty. Or they should be! I’m checking the suit I wore yesterday when my fingers close round something in one of the pockets. Puzzled, I draw it out to finding a neatly folded piece of pink paper. I know it’s not something I put there.

I feel the excitement of anticipation, as I quickly consider what this discovery could mean. My mind racing to a rapid conclusion. I try to calm my growing enthusiasm, not wanting to face further disappointment this morning. My fingers fumble in my eagerness to unfold the paper. A smile stretches across my face as I finally open up the paper and look at the message written there. I recognise the writing from the invitation. The note is simple “Gemma. Call me.” Followed by a phone number.

I barely manage to hold back a “Whoop!” of joy on seeing this. I spend several minutes wandering aimlessly about my apartment in an excited haze. I snatch up my phone, ready to phone her right away, but remembering the time I manage to stop myself. It’s still quite early on a Saturday morning and we had a late night, I reason there’s a good chance she may not be up yet. I carefully put the pink note, that I’ve had gripped tightly in my hand, under a paperweight on my desk and return to my chores.

Just before lunch, after I’ve got back from the cleaners, I decide I can’t wait anymore and I ring Gemma’s number. She answers on the third ring; damn I can’t believe I was counting. “Hello?” She queries.

“Hello, Gemma.” I respond, grinning broadly at the sound of her voice.

“Robert…” She says. And I’m sure I can hear an excited tone in her voice, although maybe that is just my imagination. “…you found my number than.”

I laugh. “Yeah, although I am a little puzzled why you didn’t just give it to me.”

“Hhmmm, well…” I hear the hesitation in her voice “I wasn’t sure how you felt and I didn’t want to be pushy.” I recall how I reacted when Gemma thought she’d upset me at the party last night and I realise I gave her reason to be wary.

Trying to ignore a growing hint of doubt, I ask “What would you have done if I hadn’t of found it?”

“Aaaahh…” I hear her laugh. “…I hadn’t thought of that. Anyway…” She says, suddenly sounding serious “…why didn’t you ask for my number?”

I chuckle to myself as I imagine Gemma standing, hands on hips, looking sternly at me. “Okay, okay. You got me on that one.” I reply. “It was the first thing I thought of this morning. I was planning to interrogate Jess on Monday to get it.”

“Interrogate….?”

“Okay, ask. I would only have resorted to interrogation if she refused to cooperate.”

She laughs. “Oh, I doubt she would refuse. I’ve been driving her mad asking her about you this morning.”

“Really…?” I don’t think my grin could be any wider.

“Although…” She says, giggling. “…Jess makes you sound like an enigma, wrapped in a mystery, wrapped in a puzzle.”

I laugh along with her, and the invitation just slips out. “Well, would you like to start solving the puzzle tonight, over dinner?”

The question is met by silence and I fear I may have been too forward. Hell, I hadn’t even been planning to ask her out, I just wanted to chat. I hear Gemma say something, her voice muffled, I guess by her hand over the phone. Whatever she said is greeted by an excited squeal, from someone I assume is Jess. “I would love to” Gemma says, adding, “Oh and Jess says Hi!”

We talk a little longer, so I can find out what sort of cuisine Gemma likes and arrange to meet up at the restaurant. I want to prolong the conversation for as long as I can, but I remind myself that we’ll going to have time to chat tonight over dinner.

I manage to get a table at a local Italian restaurant; not the place I hoped for but given the short notice, I’m still pleased. I text Gemma the details.

With a mug of tea, I sink onto the sofa feeling please but also apprehensive. I know at some point I will need to open up to Gemma about Amanda, if I want things to work between us. I know it’s too soon for me to open up my wounded heart to her, but I won’t be able to deflect her curiously indefinitely. What worries me most is Gemma might get bored of waiting for me to open up, or that when I do, hearing about my past will scare her off.

A cheerful familiar voice says “I keep telling you to have a little faith in yourself, my love.” I still don’t know if this is my imagination or not, but I know my angel is right. Finishing my tea, I rise out of my chair and get ready for the first date I’ve had for a very long time.

Can't wait for the nexdt installment hope its in progress