A DREAM COME TRUE

by Elspeth

We met at a party. Not a great party, not a bad party, just a party, at a big old house in the next village to the one where my parents lived. I'd gone down there partly because they'd asked me if I could house-sit while they were away, partly because I thought it would be the perfect place to study in - I was in my second year at university, with exam retakes coming up, and knew myself well enough to realize that I needed to be away from distractions. For a while it was great. I got up, did loads of work, made pots of tea, went for walks, relaxed by watching crap on TV, that kind of stuff. But after a few days I was starting to climb the walls. No company, no fun; I'd had enough. So, when my old school friend Kate called round and asked me if I fancied going out for the evening, I jumped at the chance. We hadn't seen each other for a while and if nothing else it would get me out of the house for an evening and be a good chance to catch up on a few things.

Kate said we didn't need to dress up, it wasn't going to be that kind of do, so I just put on a pair of jeans and a cropped white singlet top. I was so happy when they came into fashion; there's something I really like about the idea of a bare midriff if you've got a nice one and, to be honest, my stomach is one of my better assets, flat and firm with a nice deep navel. Besides, it was only a few weeks since I'd been on holiday and I didn't see any reason not to show off the tan I'd brought back from Spain, and on top of that I thought it looked good with the silver ring I'd had put into my navel the winter before. A girl likes to feel she's being noticed, doesn't she? The only other jewellery I wore was a pair of long dangling silver earrings that I thought went nicely with my tan and emphasized my neck - that's another part of me I feel good about. A leather jacket for if it got cold later and my trusty Doc Martens, and that was me.

I met Kate in the local pub. There were a couple with her, who she knew but I didn't. They had a car and said they weren't going to the party but that they'd give us a lift. We had a quick drink and left.

It was one of those lovely warm English summer evenings - birdsong, the scent of honeysuckle, long shadows on the lawn, that kind of thing - and the party was mostly taking place outdoors. There was a barbecue up against one of the house walls, a table with salads and fruit and drinks, and about twenty or so people drinking and talking. There was nobody there I knew but I wasn't bothered because the person I really wanted to talk to was Kate. I think she must have felt the same way as me, because once we'd said hello and had a few minutes' chat with the couple throwing the party, who she knew through work, she suggested we grab some food and wine and go and sit in a quiet corner. I was quite happy to do that and so we spent the next hour on a bench under a tree working our way through plates of tandoori chicken and salad and a bottle of red wine from Bulgaria and what she and I and everybody we could remember had been up to and had a lot of fun while the party just went on around us.

By the time we'd finished off the wine it was getting pretty dark. "I'll go and see if I can dig up some more of this," Kate said, waving the empty bottle, and set off across the lawn. She hadn't even reached the house, though, before I saw a man, not somebody I'd seen earlier, catch her arm and say something to her. I could tell from her body language that she was pleased to see him - we'd hunted together at school and so I remembered the signs well enough - and after a few minutes watching them first talk together animatedly and then drift away, I realized that in all probability that was going to be the end of whatever companionship I was going to get out of Kate this evening.

I stayed under the tree for a while, watching people come and go, and then went off to get another glass of wine. A lot of the people were still outside but I was starting to feel the chill of the evening a little bit and so I decided to go indoors. Walking through the house, going nowhere in particular, in and out of various empty rooms, I found myself in a small one which was furnished as a place where you could sit and chat, with a low ceiling, cream-coloured walls and a comfortable-looking matching sofa and armchair with a low table between them. Leaning against the wall opposite the window there was a big full-length gilt-edged mirror. I put my jacket on the back of the sofa and the wineglass down on the table and went over to give myself the once-over in it.

It's a thing of mine. I've never been able to resist mirrors. Female vanity, I can hear you saying, but it's more complex than that. There are times when I look at myself in one and it seems more like masochism; I have string hair days, industrial waste hair days, orange peel complexion days, even map of the moon complexion days, days when I'm too fat, days when I'm too thin, so many different kinds of bad days...

Tonight, I was happy to see, wasn't going to be any of those. The mirror seemed to like me and I found it easy to lose myself in the way it reflected me back to myself. It's not that often you find nice full-length mirrors in places where you can enjoy them privately and, what the hell, I was alone there, wasn't I? No need to get self-conscious or anything, was there?

So what did I see? Well, I saw me, Helen, looking, if you'll forgive me for saying so, pretty good. What would you have seen if you'd been there and given me the once-over? Early 'twenties at a guess, medium height, about five six; slim build, ditto legs but it's hard to be sure because of the jeans; bare midriff with two shiny silver studs winking from it; small breasts; quite wide shoulders, 'swimmer's shoulders', I'd once been told; slender arms ending in hands with long tapered fingers; and a long, I think you could say quite a delicate, neck. As I've already said, that and my stomach are perhaps the bits of me I like best.

My face? Well, unlike my namesake I couldn't imagine it launching a thousand ships, but I was happy enough with what I saw. I've got naturally auburn hair which goes into wild tangles of curls if I let it grow, so I normally keep it pretty short, which doesn't stop it curling but it does at least stay manageable that way. I've got a heart-shaped face, hazel eyes with long lashes and quite thick, slightly arched eyebrows which I never bother to pluck, a straight nose, and a mouth that the same person who told me I had swimmer's shoulders said was just asking to be kissed. I pouted at my reflection and then burst into a giggling fit at the sheer silliness of what I was doing. What if someone were to come in and catch me blowing kisses at myself in the mirror?

Telling myself to calm down, I decided to go and sit on the sofa and drink my wine. A minute later, a woman's head came round the door. I'd heard nothing of her approach.

"Was that you I heard laughing a minute ago?" she asked.

"Yes," I grimaced, "but don't worry about it. I'm not going mad or anything."

"Good," she said, and smiled. "Do you mind if I join you, or did you come in here to be alone?"

"No, be my guest," I answered, and the rest of her followed her head round the door and into the room.

"I'm Faith," she said, coming towards me and holding out her hand. I took it in mine to shake. It felt warm and soft. She had beautifully-manicured nails, I noticed, not long, but perfectly shaped and painted a pale frosted pink. She had rings on several fingers, including one that looked like a wedding band.

"I'm Helen," I said, and raised my eyes to meet hers. They were a vivid cornflower blue, very striking and very lovely. So was the rest of her. I could see right away that she was quite a bit older than me, but the lines around her eyes and mouth were delicately enough sketched that they added to her attractiveness rather than detracted from it. Immaculately-cut straight ash-blonde hair in an asymmetrical cut, shoulder-length on one side, just reaching to her jawline on the other, even features, light makeup around her eyes that accentuated their blueness, lipstick to match her nail polish, and perfume that was both subtle and heady at the same time and, no doubt, far from cheap. She was simply dressed in an off-white sleeveless number, cut just tight enough to emphasize the fullness of her figure. It reached down as far as just above her knees, showing off the shapeliness of her calves and arms to perfection. Her skin was deeply tanned, not a pale creamy-brown like mine but the colour of rich strong coffee ice cream. The neckline of the dress plunged to reveal her throat, where just one or two wrinkles were visible when I looked carefully, and the swell of her breasts, her cleavage emphasized by a small golden pendant that nestled there, dangling from a thin chain.

"You look as if you're enjoying the view," she said in a light and mocking voice.

"I am," I heard my voice answer, without even being aware of opening my mouth, let alone framing the words. And then it hit me what I'd said. It was so out of character, so, so...forward. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't exactly a virgin or anything; I'd had my share of sexual experiences, including one or two with women (the first was with a trainee gym teacher when I'd been in my last year at school, if you want to know - she was the one who'd told me about having swimmer's shoulders and a mouth that was just asking to be kissed - and there'd been a brief thing with a girl I met in my first year at university), but I certainly wasn't in the habit of coming out with this kind of direct stuff to people I'd only just met, especially women.

"You're blushing," Faith said.

"I know," I answered, reddening still further. "What must you think of me, saying things like that?"

"I like it - if it's the truth."

"Well, even if it is - and I'm not saying it isn't - it's still not the sort of thing you say to a stranger. Two minutes ago neither of us even know the other existed."

"I knew you existed," she said. "I saw you arrive and watched you go into the garden to talk to your friend, and then a while ago I saw her kissing a guy down at the bottom of the garden and wondered where you'd got to."

"So did you follow me in here?"

"Not exactly."

"But not exactly not, either?"

She laughed. "No, not exactly not, either. There was something about you that struck me straight away. Don't you ever find that, that you see someone and for no obvious reason you feel you've just got to find out more about them?"

"Yes, I know what you mean. It happens now and then." I could've added that it was happening to me right then. This Faith wasn't the kind of person you met every day. Quite apart from her looks, which were enough to make her stand out anyway, there was an aura about her that suggested that here was a woman well worth getting to know.

"I'm not bothering you, am I?" she said.

"Bothering me? No, not at all. I wasn't exactly having a whale of a time here, and it's nice to meet someone new."

"So why don't we sit down and have a drink and find out all about each other?"

And that's what we did. Faith had a bottle of good wine with her and together, side by side on the sofa, we poured it into our glasses and our hearts out to one another. She was, as I had suspected, married, but it was a while before we got round to talking about it; there seemed to be so many other things to talk about first.

"My husband's somewhere in one of the other rooms with some people he wants to do business with," she said, wrinkling her nose in what looked like distaste at the word 'business'. "But you don't want to hear about things like husbands and business, do you? You look as if you're too young for that kind of thing. How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-two."

"I'm forty," she said,

"You don't look anything like it," I replied.

"You're sweet to say so." She had a lovely soft husky voice.

As she leaned forward to reach for the bottle to refill our glasses I was unable to resist the temptation to look at her breasts. She had on a low-cut white bra, I noticed. Out of the corner of her eye she saw me looking and, when she had filled the glasses, turned to me with a funny kind of half-smile.

"Are you a lesbian, Helen?" she asked, softly.

"No," I said, blushing again. "Are you?"

She raised an eyebrow coquettishly. "I'm a respectable married woman," she said in mock shock, the half-smile still on her features. "But I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't sometimes attracted to good-looking women," she continued after a moment.

"Me too," I answered in a small voice after what seemed like an eternity of silence.

"You're a good-looking woman," Faith said.

"You too."

"So here's to good-looking women," she said, raising her glass and her eyes.

We drank in silence for a moment or two. It was Faith who spoke first.

"That ring in your navel looks good on you. Did it hurt a lot?"

"No, not really. It was a bit sore for a couple of days, that's all."

"It looks great. You've got a lovely stomach."

"Do you think so?"

"Mmm, delicious. Mine was a bit like that when I was twenty-two. Not any more, though. Can I touch?"

I could have sworn my heart missed a beat.

"Sure," I said. My voice sounded like a cartoon frog's.

Faith was sitting on my right. Her right hand, with its perfect nails, reached out. The fingertips rested lightly on my belly for a moment and then she began to move them to and fro, to and fro, caressing my skin alternately with her fingertips and her nails, still smiling, her eyes still fixed on mine. It felt wonderful. Very soft, very sensual, very exciting. She continued. I gave a shudder with the sheer pleasure of it, I couldn't help myself.

"Look," she said. "You're getting goosebumps and all the tiny hairs on your stomach are standing to attention. You're not cold, are you?"

"No," I laughed. "Not cold."

"Something else?"

"What do you think?"

"I think...something else. And I think I know what. Are you getting excited?"

I nodded and blushed again. Of course I was getting excited, very excited. Wasn't it one of the most common fantasies in the world, to be seduced by a stunning older woman, with all her experience and ripe beauty? It was certainly one of my dreams, and here it was in the process of coming true. Wouldn't anyone be excited?

Faith placed the flat of her right hand on my stomach. She put her left, which she'd been allowing to lie along the back of the sofa, on my shoulder. I turned my face to hers. We were very close. I could see her every detail in close-up: the fine lines on her forehead, the tiny blood vessels in her sparkling eyes, the crows' feet at their corners, the hint of blonde down on her upper lip, the contours of her slightly parted lips...

"Listen," she said in a quiet voice. "There's nothing I'd rather do right now than lean over and kiss you; isn't that what you're expecting?"

I nodded, reached out my left index finger, ran it down her jawline, and let it rest on the bare skin at the top of her arm.

"And is that what you want?"

"Oh yes," I whispered.

"Me too. Believe me?"

I nodded again.

"Good. I don't want to be a killjoy, but this isn't exactly the right time and place, is it? We're guests here and somebody could come in at any minute, and unless I'm greatly mistaken that somebody could well be my husband. He'll be looking for me soon and he'll want me to go home with him. And I'll have to. Sorry, but that's the way it is. But tomorrow he's going to be at work all day and won't get home till late in the evening, so what about if you come to my place? I can give you lunch and then we'll have the whole place to ourselves and the whole afternoon to enjoy it in. How does that sound?"

Well, it sounded distinctly second best, to be honest. I've always had a fertile imagination and that, together with Faith's proximity and the magic her mere touch on my skin was working, had got me worked up to such a pitch of excitement that I was anything but keen on stopping right now. I could recognize, though, that saying so wasn't perhaps the brightest idea in the world. Sometimes you just have to be patient and now, it seemed, was going to have to be one of those times. I decided to play it cool.

"Well, they do say good things about anticipation," I answered her, with what I hoped was a rueful smile.

"You're sweet," she said, and rummaged in her bag, which was at her side. She took out a pen and a notepad and scribbled on it.

"Do you know where this is?"

"I can find it." It was in a village just a few miles away.

"Do you want me to pick you up?"

"No, it's OK. I've got the use of a car."

"Good. So let's say about noon, all right?"

"Lovely."

"And give me your number too, just in case."

I gave it to her. She looked at it as if memorizing it and then put it away in her bag.

"Look," she said, "I've got to go and pee. Don't go away. Please." And with that Faith stood up, adjusted her dress, and walked to the door. When she reached it she turned round and blew me a kiss before turning on her heel and vanishing. I took a deep, deep breath and reached for my wineglass. My hand was shaking as I raised it to my lips.

When she came back a few minutes later she was not alone. There was a man behind her, who came in, smiled, and said hello. I stood up and smiled and said hello back, but deep inside I found myself hating him for taking her away from me. If he'd been the best-looking man in the world I would have hated him right then.

"I'll just get my bag and say goodbye," I heard her say to him. "You go and get the car. I won't be a minute."

He left.

"I'm so sorry, Helen," she said, her face looking as if she really meant it. "I've got to go, but I'll see you tomorrow, won't I?"

"Oh yes," I said, unable to keep the eagerness out of my voice. "Just try and stop me."

"So, until tomorrow," she said, and held her arms out. For a moment we hugged, our bodies pressed together, my hands splayed on her back, hers roving over my buttocks. Her breath was warm against my face her scent in my nostrils, her hair soft and fragrant against my cheek, and her lips just brushed in the faintest way imaginable against mine, and then, maddeningly, she drew away from me.

"Patience, patience," she murmured, and was gone.

I caught up with Kate a few minutes later, sitting on another sofa in another room. She was with the guy she'd met on her way to get the wine.

"Hi, Helen," she said. She was beaming all over her face. "This is Pete."

I got the feeling Pete was probably about as pleased to see me as I'd been to see Faith's husband, but if he had any worries about me taking her away from him he was wasting his time. Looking at the expression on her face, I could see that it was about as much of a racing certainty that those two were going to spend the night together as that I was going to spend it on my own.

"We were thinking of going soon," he said by way of introduction. "Do you want a lift?"

Twenty minutes later I was letting myself into a silent house. Not even a dog there to keep me company, but if I was honest with myself it wasn't company I wanted. It was Faith.

Going into the living room, I turned the light on, took off my jacket, and threw it over the back of an armchair. I stroked my stomach, trying to rekindle the feelings she'd aroused in me. It wasn't the same - I hadn't expected it to be - but it did get me aroused enough to take off the rest of my clothes. Between my legs I was wetter than I had been for ages. I went and lay on the sofa and started to play with my breasts, wishing it was Faith's hands and not mine that were feeling their contours and rolling my nipples between fingers and thumbs. I allowed one of my hands to roam slowly down over my belly, lingering on my navel, then down, down, running fingertips through the springy mat of my pubic hair, teasing open my labia, seeking out my clitoris, caressing the skin of the very tops of my inner thighs, playing myself like a well-tuned and familiar instrument, bringing myself to mounting peaks of excitement, all the time imagining Faith was with me, doing these beautiful things to my body.

By and by I felt the familiar sensation of an oncoming climax stealing up on me. It was just then that the phone rang. Who the hell could it be at this time of the night?

"Fuck," I said out loud, and walked across the room to answer it, cursing whoever it was who was intruding on me.

I lifted the receiver.

"Hello," I said, not trying to keep the grouchiness out of my voice.

"Helen? Am I disturbing you?"

"Faith? Faith! Oh God, I'm sorry, I didn't know it was you. I was just thinking about you.. Do you know that?"

"Well, I did have my hopes. Look, I can't stay, but I just wanted to ask. Have you looked in your jacket pocket yet?"

"No. Why?"

"Well, I left you something there. A little reminder of me. So go and do it. Keep thinking of me and I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, baby."

And that was that. She hung up. I listened to the dial tone for a moment and then I hung up too. I walked over to where I'd left the jacket and thrust a hand into each of the pockets. The left one came out holding a shred of cloth. White cloth. Silky. Lacy. A pair of panties. Faith's panties. Tiny, sexy, ultra feminine. As worn by her tonight.

I felt a big grin spread across my face. I walked back over to the sofa, lay down, and raised them to my face. Inhaling deeply, I felt my head fill with the memory of Faith's perfume, mingled with another scent, headier still, that was both familiar and different. It was, I was pretty sure, a scent I was going to get to know better the next day. I let my right hand slip back to my sex again and picked up where I'd left off.

To be continued...