ANGELS AND GHOSTS

Spring, 2015

Spring had commenced, although it was still cool, and Rachael shivered as she finished her coffee then went into the spare room. Slipping the sparring gloves on, she muttered, “Global warming yeah, how come it’s so fucking cold then?”

She worked into it, jabbing at first, stepping back, jabbing again, a little bit quicker, wanting her body to warm, wanting it to be ready for an onslaught, because she loved punching the shit out of her punching bag, loved releasing her aggression, and on this morning, she had plenty of aggression, because for the first time in three nights, He had tip-toed into her dreams.

Rachael, I love you, so much… the voice wavering, the hand trembling, the gun …

One day she was going to knock the stuffing out of the bag, one day the bag was simply going to fall to pieces, she knew that, because she hit it so hard and so constantly that it would have no other option but to wave the white flag. She also knew that the day it fell to pieces would be after a night that He had invaded her dreams.

“Fucking ass-hole!” she snorted as she smacked the shit out of the bag, the blows controlled, her teeth gritting determinedly until she heard the sound. “Huh?”

Panting, she stopped, then moved through to the kitchen and picked up the cell; Six Foot Two and eyes of green ringing. “Hello.”

“Hey Rach, can you talk?”

“Yeah, sure; what’s up.”

“I had to ring because …” then he stopped, noticing her heavy breathing, “You okay?”

“Yes.”

“You sound, I dunno, out of breath,” he said, then he asked, “You got a guy there?”

“Fuck Mark, what do you want?”

“Arrhh, the body, you know, the body in the forest…”

“What about it?”

“The coroner’s done all the preliminaries, and positive results are still a few months away, but his initial guess is that the body has been there for at least a decade, probably longer.”

“Okay, so pre-2005?”

“Yeah, something about the composition of this, or the decomposition of that is suggesting pre-2000.”

“Okay, good.”

“Yeah, it is good, because that puts you and your lady-friend in the clear.”

Rachael stiffened, then huffed, “In the clear? You didn’t tell anybody about what I told you, did you?”

“No, course not, but it’s kinda like a relief to me.”

“In what way?”

“Well, you know, knowing that you had nothing to do with it.”

“Jesus!” she bellowed. “You thought I might be involved?”

“No, Rachael no; I mean yeah, I’m just relieved, that’s all.”

“Mark…”

“Yeah?”

“Mark…”

“What?”

“The chances of me sucking your cock tomorrow night are zero!”

“Rach, no, I mean this is good news.”

“Okay, thanks for letting me know,” Rachael said, then she asked, “Still on for tomorrow night?”

“I’ll be there Rach.”

It was good news for Rachael. Ever since she’d scooped her hand under the bone, she’d been suspicious about Mia Coombes. Granted, Mia Coombes had a pretty good alibi for the summer and fall of 2014. Me? I was in hospital for four months and in a Rehab Centre for seven weeks! but the time period prior to that was what had worried her. Rachael had actually coerced Marco into a deal; she performing a clothes-on blowie for information on Mia Coombes.

Marco didn’t come up with much, quite simply because there wasn’t much to bring up.

Lived in San Antonio … tick.

Parents killed in a car accident … tick.

Moved to Brocksley in August, 2013 … tick.

Brought her unit in September, 2013 …. tick.

Mia Coombes had led her to the grave though, and by any sensible or logical reasoning, to Rachael that meant that Mia Coombes was somehow implicated.

The phone call had closed the book on Mia Coombes being a suspect as far as Rachael was concerned, that was unless an eleven-year-old (or younger) Mia Coombes, had skipped across un-noticed from San Antonio to Brocksley, committed a murder, then waltzed back to San Antonio, Hello mother, father, have you missed me?

Rachael stared at her cell, confused. She hadn’t spoken to Mia for five weeks, and that was okay, because there’d been nothing to report. She did have something to tell her today, although Rachael dithered. In reality, it would be a quicker clean-up if Mia Coombes had killed the young female, because the most vital piece of evidence pointed straight at her; she knew exactly where the body was. It wasn’t her though, that was bleedingly obvious, although the alternative was mind-boggling, I’ve been hearing this voice in my dreams …

Rachael sighed, and then pressed call, the phone answered after four rings.

“Rachael?”

“Hi Mia.”

“How, how are you?”

Wryly, Rachael thought, A bit fucked up; thanks for asking … “Ummm, I thought I better let you know that Mar … arhhh, my contact rang me and said that the preliminary results are saying that the, ummm … the body was there for at least a decade.”

“Ohhh gosh; have they identified her?”

“No, that will take a while, they need to establish how long she was there before they start going through missing person files or whatever.”

“I understand, and thank-you Rachael.”

“No worries.”

Rachael wanted to hang up, although guilt delivered a fierce right hook to her conscience. Mia Coombes had been hit by a car, and her brain was obviously fucked up, and she had physical injuries and suffered migraines, so maybe wasting a few minutes talking to this poor wench wouldn’t be the end of the world. “What you been up to, anything exciting?”

“Me, no, nothing really, what about you?”

“Just my usual shit; you driving yet?”

“I’m still not confident … you know, the head-aches.”

Rachael felt a swell of pity for her, so she mumbled, “Whatchya doing tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, nothing important.”

Rachael sighed, then said, “I might pop in and say hello.”

“Really?” Mia asked, and Rachael couldn’t help to notice the restrained excitement in her voice.

“Sure, what times good for you?”

“Ummm, ummm, anytime, maybe come over for lunch, I’ll make us something.”

“Sure.”

“What kind of things do you like to eat?”

Rachael rattled off a few things then hung up, disappointed that she’d just committed herself to more time with Brain-Injury Woman, although she was puzzled by the smile that broke across her face.

*

The following day rolled around, and Rachael drove to the unit, then stayed in the car. She was a Do-what-you-wanta-do, kind of gal, and having lunch with Brain-Injury-Woman wasn’t on her Do-you-what-you-wanta-do list; although occasionally you had to be a citizen of the community and help those who needed help. Rachael knew that Mia Coombes needed help, or support, or a friend, or a new brain, so she knocked on the door.

The door swung open, and Mia smiled, a timid smile.

“You look good Mia.”

“Thank-you.” Mia replied, “Come in and I’ll get things organised.”

Lunch turned out to be a two-hour extravaganza, beginning with pate and neatly stacked crackers, then pastry savouries and canapes, finishing with an assortment of mini cakes.

Rachael frowned at the presentation of each course; everything neat and organised, everything evenly spaced, even the napkins folded on to each other in perfect alignment.

Rachael had deliberately knocked down a stack of crackers, and she frowned again when Mia had subtly re-arranged them; and then the thighs, the rubbing of the thighs. If Mia wasn’t nibbling on something, or re-arranging something, her hands were rubbing.

Over the two hours, the conversation had been meandering and polite, although Rachael became depressed as she learnt that in the five weeks since she had last seen her, Mia’s social life was almost non-existent. She had a coffee with one of the girls from the gym three weeks ago, had spent half a day with her elderly friends at the rehab centre, and her only other social inter-action was her twice-weekly appointment with her neurologist, and her weekly session with a physio.

Rachael hugged her before she left, and then Mia said, “Thank-you Rachael, I’ve had a fabulous day.”

Back at her apartment, Rachael rolled one and drew back, knowing that it hadn’t been a fabulous day. Conversation had been hard to sustain, awkward silences occurring regularly, and Rachael was glad the event was over and done with, although a disturbing thought hit her; maybe, just maybe, it had been a fabulous day for Mia Coombes. Maybe it had been the biggest highlight she’d had in the last five weeks; lunch with her had been better than spending half a day with a bunch of old fogies who were on their last legs, and lunch with her was better than seeing her neurologist twice a week.

Mia was shy and timid, although Rachael remembered looking at her eyes on a few occasions, and they seemed to sparkle, especially after Rachael had told her about her latest lover. Rachael was a tell-it-like-it-is-gal, and with phrases like cock-sucking and pussy-licking and doggy-style popping up, Mia blushed frequently and then laughed into her hand.

And the timid, brown eyes, they had sparkled.

Caught up in the spirit of being a good citizen, Rachael rang the sports store and placed an order, then by the next afternoon, she received a phone call from Mia.

“Rachael, I’ve just had an exercise bike delivered, and they said that you paid for it.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes I do, and it’s a lovely gesture.”

“I found out that the New York marathon is the first Sunday in November, so you’ve got less than eight months to get yourself in shape.”

“Well, I don’t think that’s going to happen, but I appreciate it, I really do.”

“Mia…”

“What?”

“Stop talking and get on the bike; eight months girl!”

“Okay, I will, but I need to repay you. Can I take you out for lunch one day?”

“You don’t need to repay me,” Rachael replied, then her mind wandered. Ever since Mia Coombes had been hit by a car, her fabulous days could probably be counted on one hand, and a couple of those fabulous days had probably been spent having lunch with her. “Lunch sounds good; how’s Thursday?”

“Fabulous, I can’t wait!”

Rachael hung up with a mix of emotions swirling in her mind; Fabulous, I can’t wait!

Maybe for the next two days, Mia Coombes would be ticking the days off, waiting for the Thursday, waiting expectantly, looking forward to spending time with someone who wasn’t wearing a white jacket or hobbling on a walking frame.

*

The Thursday lunch was good, Rachael even enjoying it, because she loved making Mia blush and giggle, and when she dropped her off, she anticipated that more blushing would occur, as she handed Mia the present.

“What’s this?” Mia asked.

“It’s a present.”

“Ohhh gosh, I didn’t get you anything.” Mia frowned.

“Just open it, will ya!”

Mia opened it and blushed.

Silence.

“I didn’t know if you already had one,” Rachael began, “I’ve got one exactly the same, and this little baby will get you humming.”

Mia’s cheeks were crimson as she nodded, “Ummm, thanks.”

*

Rachael called around the following week. “How’s the bike going?”

“I’ve made a commitment to use it every day, and I’m doing ten miles at the moment.”

“That’s good; watch out New York, Mia Coombes will be there in November!”

“I’m not sure about that, but it’s given me something to work towards, and I know this sounds stupid, but I’m enjoying doing something physical and sweating again.”

“Talking about physical things,” Rachael said nonchalantly, “How’s the other present going?”

Mia dropped her gaze. “Ohhh yeah, yeah …”

“What?”

“Well, it’s ummm … nice.”

“You’ve used it?”

Mia rubbed her thighs and said shyly, “That’s a bit personal.”

Rachael jabbed her in the bicep. “I’ve got a feeling that you’re too prudish to talk about orgasms with your neurologist or with the old girls at the rehab centre, so you should talk to me about your orgasms.”

With a swelling embarrassment, Mia rubbed her bicep and replied, “I am a bit prudish, too prudish to talk about it with anyone.”

“Don’t be a pussy!” Rachael stated. “Have you used it?”

Mia turned away as she asked, “Would you like a coffee?”

“No, I want an answer to my question!”

“Rachael, I like you, I mean I really like you, but …”

“But what?”

“I’m, I’m not like you.”

Rachael placed her hands on Mia’s shoulders and said, “Look at me.”

Mia timidly raised her gaze.

“Mia Coombes, have you used the vibrator I bought you?”

Blushing, under pressure, Mia asked, “Can I look away while I answer?”

“No!”

Mia dropped her gaze anyway as she mumbled, “I did try it, yes.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Success, orgasm?”

The lowered gaze and the silence had Rachael making her own assumptions, so she said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Ummm, can I say no here?”

“Miss Coombes, when did you have your last orgasm?”

Mia wriggled away from her and muttered, “I’ll put the kettle on.”

Rachael followed her. “So last orgasm was when?”

Mia shook her head and said defensively, “Look, I’m not really comfortable talking about this.”

“I love talking about sex, so if we’re going to be friends, you’re going to have to get used to being more honest with me.”

Mia ran the statement through her mind, then looked at her as she asked timidly, “You’d like to be friends with me?”

“Well yeah, but you’re gunna have to slut it up a bit.”

Mia sighed, then said, “I’ve always been a bit conservative, and ever since … since the accident, I think I’m even more conservative.”

“Why do you think that is?” Rachael asked.

“Ummm …” Mia gazed at the carpet. She wanted to be honest with this girl, but she also didn’t want to be honest with her. Effectively, she was sixty per cent of the person she had once been. Psychological and physical injuries had reduced her to being a person who constantly gazed at the carpet; and to this girl, a person who wanted to be her friend, maybe little snippets of information were okay, especially since this girl had brought her an exercise bike, and (blush) a vibrator. Mia kept her gaze lowered, her hands rubbing her thighs as she said quietly, “I’m sure it’s not a physical thing, it’s some kind of mental blockage, but I just can’t seem to, you know ….”

“What?”

“Well you know, what you’re talking about.”

“You can’t orgasm?”

Blushing, carpet-gazing. Mia desperately wanted a friend, someone she could talk to and hang around with it, and she’d love this wild and uninhibited girl to be that friend, that is, if the girl didn’t talk, or if she did talk, she talked about things that Mia was comfortable talking about.

Little snippets, release little snippets … “It’s, it’s, you know, the accident, me, well yeah.”

Rachael grabbed her right hand and said brightly, “Okay, well I’m sure a mental blockage is easier to fix than a physical problem.”

With her gaze still at the carpet, Mia mumbled, “Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course, I want you to be honest with me.”

“I’m not comfortable talking about things like this.”

Rachael cocked her head and asked, “Can I be honest with you?”

“Well, yes, as long as it’s not about sex.”

Rachael smiled as she said, “Ten per cent of my life revolves around having orgasms or getting fucked …” Mia plastered her right hand over her mouth to try and supress the giggle. “And,” Rachael continued, “Sixty per cent of my life revolves around talking about that ten per cent.”

Mia shook her head in defeat and said quietly, “Rachael, I want you to understand that I’m not like you.”

Rachael gazed around the unit, then looked at her. “Every time I come here, this place is spotless, and to me, that’s a bad sign.”

“What do you mean?”

“Life is all about choices, it’s all about ticking box A, B or C. Ticking the A box means you go out and do something new and exciting, the B box is to strip off and masturbate, and the C box is no, I won’t do either of those things, I might tidy up the unit instead.”

“I like my place to be tidy.” Mia answered timidly.

“Well that’s pretty obvious,” Rachael replied. “What are you going to do when I leave?”

“I’ve got some washing to do.”

“Forget about that; when I leave, tick box B.”

“What was B again?” Mia asked hesitantly.

“Strip off, grab the vibrator and blow one out!”

“Well no, that won’t happen.”

“Well, at the very least, do something bold and daring.”

“Like what?”

“If you use the exercise bike every day, start doing it naked.”

Mia shook her head in frustration and said, “Rachael, we’re different you and me, I mean I’m like the nice little fairy and you’re like the, gosh, I’m not sure … you’re the very naughty fairy, and I can’t change the way I am.”

“Yes you can!” Rachael declared. “Start exercising naked, and that will get you really pumping, then before you know it, this unit will be messy.”

Mia giggled as a thought hit her. “Ohhh, I just ticked box D.”

“What’s box D?”

“D is hoping that you’ll go away.”

Rachael laughed, “Yeah I will go, but I might bring a porno movie over one night, and we’ll watch it and then masturbate together.”

Mia blushed severely, then said, “Next time you come over, I won’t let you in, maybe we can just talk through a window.”

*

The next morning, dressed in nothing but her satin dressing robe, Mia stared at the exercise bike.

She liked Rachael Terina, liked her a lot, and she wanted to be friends with her. In order for that to happen, Mia assumed that the nice little fairy might have to become a little bit bolder.

She pulled all the drapes closed and stood by the bike, loosening the tie of her robe. “Come on, you can do this.”

The robe fell open, and the first thing that gained Mia’s attention was the nine-inch scar on her left hip.

Mia slunk into the bedroom and pulled on her bike shorts and singlet.

When she lay down that night, Mia reached for the vibrator. “Come on, you can do this.”

Her right hand trembled as she held the vibrator at her opening, while her left hand skimmed over her stomach, then slid over her thigh. Felt nice, felt exciting, and Mia closed her eyes as her hand ran over her hip, then she stopped.

The scar.

It actually felt nice tickling the scar, although the scar was a reminder that her left hip came from a plastics factory in Chicago. Maybe that was the problem, maybe the scar was the cause of her mental blockage. The scar was a reminder that she was someone else, someone different to who she used to be; for the left side of her body now contained plastic and titanium, and her brain was, was … well, she had to see a neurologist twice a week.

Mia rolled over and rubbed her thigh with her right hand, fully aware that tears were forming in her eyes, and two more rubs should be okay, or maybe three more, because the second one didn’t really feel like a full rub; and she began to sob.

“Stop, stop it.” she whimpered.

Two more rubs, or three, or four proper ones, then she glanced at the digital clock; 10.23pm, two more rubs, or two half rubs followed by three proper rubs, and another glance at the digital, because three more rubs required before the clock ticked over to 10.24 …

Mia blubbered, rubbing, glancing, real tears arriving, because yeah, it was a fact; she wasn’t who she used to be.

*

Rachael sent a message the next day.

Orgasm count?

Mia read the message then bowed her face. She didn’t want to fully expose herself to this girl, although she knew that Rachael was only trying to help her.

She replied,

The unit is very tidy.

Another message the next day.

Blow one out today?

A disheartened reply,

When it happens, it happens.

An immediate reply,

Exercising naked?

A new line of conversation needing to be introduced.

Anyway, how are you?

The reply,

Just had a huge mf; my thighs are still trembling!

Mia smiled and replied,

Gosh, is sex all you think about?

The reply,

I told you; 10% having sex, 60% talking about it. (or texting about it)

*

Rachael rang Mia two days later. “Hi, wanta do something today?”

“Ohh yes please!” Mia blurted, then she shook her head and said shyly, “Sorry, I mean yes, I would.”

Rachael decided that it was dress-like-a-girl day, so she put on an above-the-knee gold, satin dress, then chopped and separated, neatening the powder into a line. Having lunch with Mia Coombes meant that a pre-lunch snort was more than acceptable. She snorted it up, lolled her head back, then swelled with the initial buzz.

Thirty minutes later, Rachael was there, and she strolled toward the front door feeling grand. She felt like she was a Warrior, or a Hero or a Legend; each of her footsteps being important, the Legend walking, striding, she being that Legend, she being the embodiment of dreams, she being … huh, what …

“Uhh ohh!”

Rachael crinkled her nose, pinched it, fought against it, then …

“Achhhooo!”

Rachael clenched her buttocks, waiting for seconds to pass, wanting them to pass …

Her mind was rallying as it held up a protective shield, yet it mattered not, because she felt it.

“You kidding me?” she moaned in disbelief, “You fucking kidding me?”

She scampered back to the car, opened the door, then slipped the panties off, staring at them, looking at the wet patch. It was only a thimble full of urine that had dribbled, although the result was panties off.

Rachael wiped herself and then hung her head. The best option was to go home and grab another pair, although Mia would have seen the car … Ummm Rachael, you were here … then you left … then you came back again; what’s going on?

Amidst the wreckage of a mini disaster, a bright light shone for Rachael though … Mia Coombes … mental blockage … no panties … Rachael was super pissed off, although she did see the funny side of the situation, and she coughed out a laugh as she knocked on the door.

“Wow, you look great!” Mia stated. “I’ve never seen you in a dress before.”

“Thanks,” Rachael replied, “You got a dress this length?”

Mia looked at the gold dress, the hem falling to six inches above her knees, and she replied, “Yes I have.”

“Go and put it on, then we’ll go out.”

Ten minutes later, Mia presented herself before Rachael.

For the first time, Rachael had a good look at her. Mia was probably two inches taller than her, which made her 5’7”, and her body was slender and athletic. Her black hair was cut to shoulder length and parted in the middle, and her brown eyes were large and expressive.

“Okay,” Rachael gushed, “You Mia Coombes are one hot little piece of ass!”

Mia blushed and giggled.

“So today, we’ll have lunch, then maybe browse around the shops, but before we leave, you need to do one thing …”

“What?” Mia asked.

Rachael turned away from her and hitched a section of her dress up.

Mia blushed as she stared at the bare buttock, and burning with embarrassment, she assumed that silence would be her best option.

Rachael not silent though, as she asked, “You wearing panties?”

Mia shook her head in confusion and mumbled, “Of course.”

Rachael smiled mischievously, then said, “Take them off.”

Mia felt the blush lighting up her face, and she asked, “What?”

“Undies off.” came the bright reply.

Mia coughed out an embarrassed laugh, “No, not going to happen.”

Rachael shimmied across and put her hands on Mia’s shoulders as she said, “Mia Coombes, today is the beginning of the next phase of your life. You’ve got a mental block, and yeah, I can understand that; so we’re going to concentrate on helping you get rid of the mental block.”

“I don’t understand.”

“For the next few weeks, we’re going to do stuff that will get your juices flowing; dangerous stuff, thrilling stuff, and step one is hitting the streets without our panties.”

“No, I’m sorry; you’ve got the wrong person.”

“Look, I’m no great philosopher or anything, but to me, if you can’t orgasm, you may as well not be here.”

Mia bowed her face.

“Shit,” Rachael apologised. “That didn’t come out right; what I mean is that I’m going to help you push through the mental blockage by doing exciting things with you.”

“Well no, this, I wouldn’t even have done this kind of thing before the accident, I mean I’d be terrified.”

“Mia, some of the greatest thrills come by scaring the shit out of yourself.”

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but no, I’m sorry.”

Rachael stepped back and said, “Panties off.”

Gazing at the carpet, Mia shook her head.

“You want me to take them off for you?”

Mia snapped her gaze up, “What?”

“You take them off, or else I will.”

Rattled, confused, although strangely aroused, Mia said quietly, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“If they’re not off in thirty seconds …” Rachael threatened, then she took a pace forward.

Mia took a step back.

Rachael moved in and skimmed her hands up Mia’s thighs, and Mia stepped backwards, although Rachael followed her.

“No seriously Rachael, this is not going to happen.”

Mia felt the thumbs hook inside the panties, and she wriggled away, pushing at Rachael’s arms, “Stop please!”

Rachael tried to elbow Mia’s arms out of the way as she pulled at the panties, and in the stuttered frenzy of activity, Mia stumbled and fell onto the rug.

Rachael knelt next to her, still pulling, and Mia grabbed the panties and pulled in the opposite direction.

Rachael began laughing as she tugged, “They’re coming off Skank!”

Mia giggled nervously as she puffed out, “You’re crazy!”

Rachael stopped.

Lying flat on her back, Mia adjusted the panties and then gazed at her, concerned by the dangerous look in her eyes. “What?”

Rachael shook her head, then she said with a hint of menace, “You should never, ever call a genuinely crazy person, crazy.”

With adrenalin pumping and her face flush with colour, Mia said meekly, “You’re not genuinely crazy.”

Rachael frowned, then said quietly, “Yes I am, and if you call genuinely crazy people crazy, this happens.”

Mia noted that Rachael’s eyes seemed to be sparkling with mischief, and she asked, “What happens?”

Rachael lay down next to her and swept hair off Mia’s brow, then she kissed her, a brief, polite kiss. Then she came in again, a longer kiss, her lips in a gentle rotation, until she pulled back to gaze at her. Mia looked shocked, her cheeks coloured crimson and her eyes opened as wide as they could be, although the eyes were blazing. Rachael was a creature of instinct, so she delivered another kiss, a slow invitational kiss, the kiss beckoning the other party to participate.

Rachael glowed as she felt the timid response, and she settled in, travelling, encouraging, getting thoroughly involved, although her total involvement in the passionate kiss saw her losing her way. Very quickly, this had changed from being a Don’t call a crazy person, crazy lesson, to a Fuck-a-Ninny, feeling kinda horny situation. Closing her eyes, Rachael skimmed a hand over Mia’s face, could almost feel the heat of her cheek, then her hand lowered, skimming over her left breast, the nipple erect already. Rachael didn’t want to over-step the boundaries, because permission for either the kiss or the caress had not been given, so she pulled away and gazed at her. “See,” she whispered, “Call a genuinely crazy person crazy, and that’s what happens.”

Mia stared at her, panting, a mild throb beginning in her brow, although Mia didn’t think it was a dangerous throb, it was a something-else throb. “Rachael …”

“What?”

A frantic war erupted in Mia’s mind, two sides clashing, one side screaming, Arrrhhhh, retreat! Although the other side pondering, I dunno, maybe we should see how this plays out …

Ever since July the nineteenth 2014, Mia’s life had been a mess, nothing good happening, and Mia suspected that her immediate future was all about her days being nothing-good-happening days, so if this cheeky girl was to kiss her again … Mia blinked, then she whispered, “You’re crazy.”

Rachael was just about to scold her, then she thought about the statement, and she smiled.

A kiss began, both parties involved, Rachael reacquainting herself with the left breast.

Mia felt awkward and uncertain, but the kiss was slow and intimate, and cautiously, she ran her right hand through Rachael’s hair. The throb in Mia’s brow was now more prominent, although it wasn’t painful, it was almost like a popping sensation, like champagne bubbles popping; but she stiffened when a hand slid under her dress.

Rachael felt her stiffen, and propriety meant that she should withdraw her hand; but no, there was only one way this experience could go now. The panties were satin, and they felt divine, and when Rachael skimmed her hand over the inside of her thighs, they had the same silken texture. The kiss had been developing into a sucking, puckering extravaganza, although Rachael pulled away and stared at her. With all of her senses blazing, Rachael propped herself up, worked her hands under Mia’s dress, then began pulling.

With champagne bubbles still popping in her mind, Mia closed her eyes as she felt her panties, panties which belonged to her, sliding down, then off.

Rachael lay down and lips met again as her hand worked under the dress. Her fingers were met by a solid thatch of pubic hair, the fingers skimming through then sliding down the inside of her thighs, over her hips, then tickling into the curls of pubic hair.

Mia panted quietly, the kiss frequently interrupted, as fingers tickled over her, then alarmingly … or excitingly, inside her.

Rachael felt Mia’s body rock gently, the subtle movement meaning that permission to do this had been granted. Two of her fingers kept working, sliding and caressing, Rachael as delicate and respectful as she’d ever been.

Mia tensed as she felt the hand run over her left hip, and the inquisitive fingers tickled over the scar, running down it, across it, and Mia had to pull away from the kiss, needing to blow out, needing to suck in, but also hesitant, for the champagne bubbles weren’t popping anymore, they were staring to fizz, and footsteps began stomping around in her mind, and blockages were gathering threateningly, seemingly ready to fall out of the sky, because this person, this bold, exciting person now knew that she had a nine-inch scar on her left hip. It was close too, imminent, the footsteps more forceful, while the blockages were starting to fizz, although her body was tingling. In frightened confusion, Mia couldn’t ascertain what was closer; the headache or the orgasm, and she fretted, “No, please …”

Rachael slowed, “What, you okay?”

“I’m not sure.” Mia panted.

“Just relax baby, close your eyes and let it happen.”

Mia frowned, her focus now broken, because a conversation had appeared, an un-wanted conversation, words being spoken, the conversation meaning that the Bold, Exciting Person’s fingers had stopped stroking, and Mia’s pending orgasm pulled up its undies and skulked away.

“Ummm, might be a headache.” Mia said quietly.

“You want me to stop?”

She would have loved to have said boldly, ‘No, I was enjoying that!’ although it appeared that a threatening blockage had already extinguished the physical experience, and Mia didn’t want to embarrass herself. “Maybe.”

Rachael leant in and kissed her, then pulled away, “Close, yeah?”

“I think so.”

Rachael tickled her fingers across Mia’s brow, “You want a pill?”

“No, it’s alright at the moment.”

“Good,” Rachael said. “We’ll try again another time.”

Mia blinked, surprised. Bold Exciting Person had felt the scar on her left hip, and it hadn’t frightened her away. Mia looked at her meekly and asked, “Try what again?”

Rachael understood that subtlety was required, although she also understood that subtlety was something that she lacked. She produced her pretty-girl-smile, then said, “I’ll tickle your puss another time and try and make you blow.”

Mia turned away, and blushing with embarrassment, she mumbled, “I, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I don’t know, maybe I’m just not emotionally capable yet.”

Rachael felt a swell of pity, and she said, “I’ll call in on Friday, and we’ll have another go.”

“Rachael,” Mia turned away, embarrassed by her non-functioning private areas, and in a moment of lucidity, she decided that she wanted to avoid further embarrassment. “I don’t want you wasting your time on me.”

“I don’t see it as time-wasting.” Rachael said as she pushed herself up, then she added brightly, “I like playing with your puss.”

Mia covered her eyes, knowing that it was a stupid thing to do, because it wasn’t her eyes that were blushing, it was her cheeks.

Rachael helped Mia up and said, “Anyway, I better get going.”

Mia blurted out, “No, stay!”

“Huh?”

Mia blushed, and turned her gaze to the carpet as she mumbled, “Sorry, I meant stay, and I’ll, I’ll make us lunch.”

Rachael lowered her gaze and said, “No, I’ll get going, I’ve got things to do.”

Confused and embarrassed by the tingling in her groin, Mia asked timidly, “Are you working this afternoon?”

“No, I’ve gotta get home and, and …”

“What?”

Rachael was caught in two minds; she lived her life her way, and when she spoke, she always said what was on her mind, not what other people would be expecting to hear; although this fragile, blushing young woman was different, and maybe baby steps were more appropriate for her. All the same, if they were going to knock around together for a few weeks, maybe Mia Coombes had to meet the real Rachael Terina. Rachael faced her and said, “I have to get home and masturbate.”

Mia coughed out a laugh, and Rachael smiled as she declared, “I’m so fucking horny!”

In a moment of confusion, they stared at one another.

Rachael wanted Mia to state brightly, No, lie down; I’ll do it for you!

And Mia wanted to say, Hey, I’ll try, ummm … I’ll have a go, errrr … but no, she was embarrassed and confused, and maybe she should just ask, Would you like ham and cheese sandwiches for lunch?

Rachael dropped her gaze, and Mia, the Mia with a brain injury and non-functioning erogenous zones, felt compelled to drop her gaze as well.

Rachael regathered, kissed her on the cheek then said, “So I’ll see you on Friday, and Mia, I want you to do something for me.”

“What?”

“Shave off your pubic hair.”

Mia blushed immediately.

Rachael loved that Mia was so easy to embarrass, so she continued, “On Friday, I intend to go down on you, and I don’t want pubic hairs stuck in my teeth.”

*

That night, He didn’t invade Rachael’s dreams, and strangely, considering the afternoon she’d had, Mia Coombes didn’t slip into her dreams either, although Mia Coombes was the last thing on her mind as she began to dose.

Mia bedded down with the afternoon still blazing in her mind.

She had been kissed as passionately as she had ever experienced, and she had been caressed as reverently as she had ever experienced, the event producing an array of erotic memories; although just when the champagne bubbles were set to explode in decadent celebration, the bubbles fizzed with a dire warning of pain and retribution.

Friday was three more sleeps away, and Mia was both excited about it and nervous because of it.

She slid her hand under her nightie, wanting the excitement to be the clear winner.

It felt good, it felt divine, but her mind, this brain that she used to control, now wanted to control her.

Her hands stayed well away from her left hip, and physically, it felt fantastic, although blockages and tiny footsteps hammered on the door of her sub-conscious, reducing the thrill of the experience, and also thrusting all her imperfections to the forefront of her mind.

With tears welling in her eyes, Mia withdrew her hand, whispering, “Tomorrow, try again tomorrow night.”