‘Let’s go for a drink or two with Jay and his new girlfriend,’ he said. ‘It’ll be fun,’ he said.
Famous…last…words. I shit you not.
Against my better judgment, we did go out that night.
And here I am, just a few weeks later, watching my boyfriend of three years pack the last of his things into his car and drive off without a backward glance.
What led to this less-than-friendly breakup, you ask? Well, let me tell you a story.
It all started on a Friday night. As usual, I’d had a tough week, as usual, and all I wanted to do was slob out in my PJs with an indulgent takeaway, a bottle of Chardonnay, and something mindless on Netflix.
That is, until Ben announced that he’d told his best mate Jay that we’d go on a double date. Apparently he’d been seeing yet another new girl and was keen to show her off. Jay was a serial dater and liked to parade his conquests about like a bloody Roman general.
I protested, rather animatedly, in fact. I really wasn’t in the mood for it. All I could think of was chicken jalfrezi, Bombay aloo, and soft, warm naan bread. But eventually, with Ben’s cajoling, the idea that a little bit of atmosphere and too much booze might not be so bad. Hell, I could still get the indulgent takeaway on the way home.
I showered and changed, sliding my petite body into comfy jeans and my old vintage leather jacket, and we were good to go.
We were sitting at a table in the Kings Arms nursing our first drinks when Jay and his new girl arrived. It was her legs that I saw first. I’d know those perfect stems anywhere. Raising my head, I saw the rest of her. Fuck, it really was her. She still looked amazing. Raven black hair, longer now, that hung in loose, seductive waves over her shoulders and down her back. Porcelain skin, sapphire blue eyes, and perfect pouting cupid’s bow lips.
She looked like Snow White had grown up and discovered sex. And I was more than familiar with her. In fact, I was intimately familiar with all five feet five inches of her.
“Kate, Ben,” Jay said excitedly, about to make introductions, “this is Reb….”
“Becca!” I finished for him, rising from my chair to embrace her.
“Oh my god, Kate.” She exclaimed. The shock in her voice was apparent, as was the look on her face, and with good reason.
“And you’ve still got the jacket, Kate,” she said with surprise in her voice.
The jacket had actually been a gift from her a few years ago.
Her name was Rebecca Marie James. Becs, or Becca to her friends. Or, to put it more succinctly, the best, most fun sex I’d ever fucking had in my life.
She was also the girl who’d utterly broken my heart.
The boys looked on dumbfounded as Becs and I hugged in greeting. She’d looked equally surprised to see me, to be honest. We hadn’t seen each other in almost four years. I hurriedly explained to the guys that we were actually old friends and that we went way back. More drinks were procured, and as a foursome, we fell into the easy small talk of twenty-somethings.
Well, let’s be honest here. I made a pretence of falling into catching up and small talk. And I’m pretty sure Becs was doing the same.
It was what wasn’t being talked about around that table that played through my mind, though. I really thought I was over her. But as I felt those unmistakable pangs of desire, that familiar ache between my thighs, I realised I was so wrong.
xoxoxoxoxo
Let me give you some backstory here.
Becs and I had become friends through work. We’d started at the same company in a new intake of office juniors around six years ago. Both of us were twenty-two, and neither of us knew a soul at the firm. So, as newbies, we stuck together and quickly became firm friends. We’d go out for drinks after work, we’d go to movies, and we’d spend our lunch breaks together.
I couldn’t deny it; the more we were together, the more I became attracted to her. In fact, even though I’d always considered myself straight – ok, maybe a little bi – I fancied her like crazy.
She stood a little taller than my five-foot-three, and she was beautiful. Added to which, she was blessed with the most amazing legs I’d ever seen. She also had the most wonderful, plummy, so very ‘English’ accent you can imagine.
Due to our archaic office dress code, we were always expected to wear smart skirts and blouses. And this was always finished off with modest heels and tights. She was a walking wet dream.
Just a side note here. You should know at this point that I’ve always had a bit of a thing for legs and feet. This stems back to my schooldays and my old French teacher, who would always conduct lessons sitting on her desk, not behind it. She always wore tights, and she was a compulsive leg crosser and shoe dangler. I found her utterly captivating. So yes, I admit it, I’m definitely a little bi.
Becs had exactly the same effect on me. Every day, I’d fantasise about kissing her, about pleasuring her. Imagining what she tasted like, was she smooth or natural? I wondered what got her motor running. My favourite daydream was that one day she’d just pin me to the wall and have her wicked way with me. I’d never actually been with a girl before, but I’d jilled off to enough girl-on-girl porn to know the basics, and I was pretty sure I could cope if the opportunity ever arose.
I had no idea that my attraction to Rebecca was a mutual one. But when I found out that it was, I can only say that fantasy had absolutely nothing on reality.
I gave myself away totally unintentionally one day in the little office we shared. Any woman knows that having to spend a day in heels isn’t great, so Becs and I had both developed the habit of kicking our shoes off if we were at our desks. Becs rolled her chair back and lifted her legs up onto her desk. She reached forward to adjust the toe seams of her black tights. The sight of her perfect legs, from her pretty purple toenails to her exquisitely shaped thighs, all set off by sheer black nylon, was too much for me.
“Ohhh-mmm,” I moaned audibly. I swear it just slipped out. But we all know you can’t unring a bell.
“Ohh, Kitten,” she exclaimed in that beautiful Mary Poppins voice, spinning her chair to face me. “Did you just make that delightful little noise for me?”
Normally, I hated being called Kitten. Everyone else calls me Kate, and only my mum insists on calling me Katherine. But when Becs used that pet name, it felt so right. It made me feel saucy, even. And once she’d started, it had stuck like glue.
I blushed furiously, “Becs, I, I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. I’m so sorry; it… It just came out. It’s those damned legs of yours,” I gibbered like a fool.
She got up and padded to me in her nyloned feet, leaning on the arms of my chair, effectively trapping me in place. There was a mischievous, excited look in her eyes.
She leaned in so close, I could smell her perfume and feel her breath on my skin. I felt goosebumps prick up all over me.
“Well, it’s about bloody time. I’ve been looking at you too y’know. All this time, wondering if you fancied me too. I mean, I thought I’d seen you checking me out, but I just couldn’t be sure. Have you Kitten? Have you been having naughty thoughts about me?”
I tried to speak, but I was lost for words. I opened my mouth to say something, anything. But instead, she brushed her lips across mine.
“Is this what you want, Kitten?” she whispered breathily, “Do you want me? Can I kiss you? Please, can I? I’ve wanted to for aaages.”
Like I was ever going to say no! I nodded my head, chewing my lip, squirming in my chair.
She pressed her lips to mine, exerting just the right amount of pressure. She tasted of strawberry lip gloss and smelled like summer. I moaned again, my lips parted, and she instantly took the invitation to slide her tongue into my mouth.
I leaned up into her, sliding my arms around her neck, and kissed her back passionately, our tongues entwining. It felt like the most natural, most wonderful thing in the world. I’d dreamed of this moment, and it surpassed every expectation I could’ve had.
I glanced over her shoulder, realising that the office door was still open.
“Becs, the door,” I whispered as she pulled back to take a breath.
“Shit!” she jumped back, worried we were about to get caught. “I think you’d better come home with me tonight, don’t you?”
Needless to say, I did go home with her that night. And so began two and a half years of almost non-stop, playful, delightfully kinky, sometimes risky sex.
We house-sat like a couple if my parents were away. We fucked in club toilets. We used her place if her flatmate was out. The back seat of my car in quiet industrial estates after dark like horny teenagers. We even found hidden corners at work for delicious, frantic quickies.
The one thing we promised each other was that it was ‘just sex’; we weren’t going to fall in love with each other. Neither of us was gay after all. We were just two girls having fun, exploring, and discovering ourselves. Weren’t we?
Of course, you already have an inkling that I did just that. I fell hard and deep for Rebecca. And that was a huge, if unavoidable, mistake.
I didn’t even know that she was leaving until she didn’t show up for work one Monday. There was no text, no phone call, just her absence. As Tuesday turned to Wednesday, and all my appeals went unanswered, I went and spoke to our manager. She informed me that Rebecca had left on zero notice due to some undisclosed family emergency.
I was heartbroken. Not only had she just upped and quit, but she’d completely ghosted me. And that was what had really hurt. I’d cry anytime I was alone. I lost weight. And the worst thing was that I had absolutely nobody I could talk to about the situation. Was it me? Had I done something so wrong? Had I done something so unforgivable?
xoxoxoxoxo
Of course, I couldn’t say any of this as we all sat around that pub table. I put on a show; I went through the motions. And I drank like a fish.
I was distracted, distant, and starting to feel decidedly worse for wear. The booze was definitely taking hold, exacerbated by my empty stomach. My stomach churned, and I could feel a cold sweat between my shoulder blades.
“Are you okay, Kate?” Ben asked, looking concerned, rubbing my shoulder.
“Yeah, I’m… I’m fine,” I replied, “I just need the loo. I…don’t feel too great.”
I got up and made my way unsteadily to the toilets. Thankfully, they were empty. I ran the cold tap, splashing cold water on my face, as the tears began to flow. I was, however, unaware that Becs had followed me.
I was sobbing at the sink, my head hung low, when I felt her hand softly stroke down my back.
“Kate,” she said softly, her voice like pure honey. “Kate, are you ok?”
I stood straight and turned around, brushing her hand away. Upset turned to anger, and I snapped at her viciously.
“How the fuck…can you ask that, Becs? No, how dare you even ask me that? You, you vanished on me, without so much as a fucking word. And now, you have the gall to ask if I’m ok.”
I felt my stomach lurch and dashed into a cubicle, dry heaving and crying; I slumped to my knees.
She held my hair out of the way, stroking my back.
“Shhh, Kitten, oh Kate, I’m so sorry. I promise, I never meant to hurt you, Kitten. I was trying to avoid that by leaving. Can we please meet for coffee tomorrow, maybe? Let me explain it all. I’ve got so much to tell you.”
I looked up and nodded, “I think you owe me that at the very least. Don’t you?”
She helped me clean myself up and led me back out to where the boys were waiting. Becs and I exchanged phone numbers and agreed to talk the next day. For a proper catch-up.
I could barely look Ben in the eye when we got home. I went straight to bed while he fired up his PlayStation. It was barely ten o’clock, and our Friday night was ruined. I lay there in the dark, feeling pathetic, embarrassed, and sorry for myself. I should’ve been able to take it in stride and be the bigger person. But most of all I realised the reason I was so upset.
I realised that I didn’t care why she’d vanished. I didn’t need to forgive her. I realised that despite being with Ben for three years, sharing a flat for two, my life was a sham. Lying to myself about who I really was. I was still hopelessly in love with her. I just didn’t know if I was brave enough to tell her or to break Ben’s heart. I just knew that I wanted her back.
I awoke alone the next morning, hungover and starving hungry. Ben worked on Saturday mornings and played football with Jay in the afternoons, so I had the whole day to myself.
Becs and I exchanged texts, arranging to meet at our old favourite greasy spoon for a late breakfast.
I showered and made coffee, and feeling minimal guilt for what I was doing to Ben, I got myself ready to win back my girl.
I shoehorned myself into my favourite jeans, paired them with a slinky black top I knew she’d like, and fluffed my blonde hair into that crusted beach look I knew she loved. I opted for dark eye makeup to hide my hangover and popped my sunnies on top of my head. I eschewed heels in favour of sneakers for a breakfast date, grabbed my jacket, and left the flat to walk the half mile or so to the cafe.
I arrived five minutes early, thankful to find that the breakfast rush had died down. I sat in our favourite booth at the back and ordered a large black Americano.
When Rebecca arrived, my jaw hit the floor. She was obviously playing me at my own game, wearing an outfit that she knew would push my buttons.
She always knew that her legs were my weak spot. She’d worn very short cut-off jeans with black tights underneath, a black suede bike jacket, and Vans on her feet. It was the ratty old Aerosmith t-shirt underneath that said it all. It had once belonged to my dad. I’d let Becs sleep in it once, and I’d never seen it again. She still had it after all these years.
She kissed my cheek. “Hiya Kitten,” she whispered before sliding into the seat opposite.
“Hey you,” I responded, my voice catching slightly. “I can’t believe you’ve still got my T-shirt.”
“Are you kidding, Kitten? This is going nowhere. It’s been my one link to you. It’s…it’s precious.”
Her voice hadn’t changed one bit. And I could already feel my body responding.
We ordered our food, and I sipped my coffee. I almost didn’t want to hear what had gotten between us. I just wanted to drown in those azure blue eyes. I just wanted her back in my life.
As we slowly munched our way through the biggest Full English on the menu, she let it all out.
“Kitten,” she said seriously, “we made a promise way back when, didn’t we? Not to fall in love?”
I just stared at her in shock. I took a gulp of coffee. I had definitely not expected her to open like this.
“Well, Kitten, I couldn’t help it,” she continued, “I did fall in love with you. But I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t ‘true love’, and I did something completely and utterly stupid.”
I’ll give you the clip notes version here, Dear Reader. If I gave it to you verbatim, it would be long, sad, and would involve me attempting to describe two old friends ugly crying over a fry-up. Nobody needs to read that. So:
It transpired that, in her efforts to convince herself that she was merely stuck in some soft-focus lesbian porno fantasy, Becs had indulged in a one-night stand. After which, she’d decided that I really was THE ONE. Yay, Kitten, I hear you cry. Well, not quite; there’s more.
Instead of proclaiming her undying love for me, taking me straight to bed and fucking me ragged, she waited. Scared that I wouldn’t feel the same way. (See, never make stupid promises.) And during that time that she waited, she discovered that she was pregnant.
So instead of talking to me, she chickened out of everything we had, completely. Said she couldn’t very well say “I love you, Kitten” while carrying a child. So she fucked off home to her mum and dad’s, thinking I’d want no more of her. She had her baby. A gorgeous little girl called Lily (I’ve seen pictures), who was promptly and very lovingly adopted by her sister Anna.
Becs had always said motherhood wasn’t for her, and Anna had been trying and failing to conceive with her husband for years. Countless rounds of IVF had failed, and they’d all but given up. So Becs is now Aunty Becca; she still gets to be a fun part of Lily’s life, Anna is a wonderful mum, and all is right with the world.
(Now I know that I’ve really made this seem very short and almost trivial. But believe me, you know everything that you need to, and I know you’re all wanting to get to the wet n squishy bit. I know you are, because I am too, so keep reading.)
I asked why she hadn’t at least tried to contact me. It was the usual reason. Fear of being ultimately rejected. I think we’ve all been there for one reason or another. Always scared of what the outcome ‘might’ be. Too scared to take the plunge and find out.
It turned out she’d lived a similar sham of a life to mine. I’d moved in with Ben, and she’d dated a handful of guys but hadn’t fallen into anything serious.
Becs had only moved back to our town a few months ago and found herself a cheap flatshare. She told me that she’d been trying to work up the courage to reach out ever since, but she just didn’t know how to after so much time had passed. Fortunately, the Fates had smiled on her. It was pure serendipity that had led her to that pub with Jay, my own boyfriend’s best mate, on that particular night.
We ordered more coffee, and I reached for her hand across the table.
“Kate, can you forgive me? I never meant to hurt you. I was stupid and selfish. I really should have talked to you.”
I felt tears well up again, my body trembling.
“Becs, it’s always been you,” I said quietly. “I was in love with you then, and I realised last night I’m still in love with you.”
Her bottom lip quivered. “Oh, Kitten, I’m so sor..”
“Shut up, Becs,” I whispered. “Just shut up.”
I leaned over the table, grabbing her jacket lapels to pull her to me, scattering ketchup bottles and cutlery all over the table. I crushed my mouth to hers; I didn’t give a fuck where we were or who the hell saw us.
Our coffees arrived, and we sat back down. We’d healed instantly. From confessions to forgiveness, in the time it took to eat breakfast.
We held hands and gazed at each other as we drank our coffee in silence. Becs had kicked off her Vans and now played the trump card. I felt her foot caress my leg under the table.
“Ben’ll be out till the pubs shut,” I whispered, biting my lip. “If you fancy coming home with me?”
“We’d best get going then,” she smirked. “I got an Uber here. Can you give me a lift home later?”
Becs made a show of putting her shoes back on, stretching her legs, and pointing her toes for me as I paid our bill. I just knew it wouldn’t be long till those pretty toes were in my mouth again.
The half-mile walk back took twice as long as usual. We kept distracting each other and stopping along the way. By the time we got to my apartment building, we were already at a steady sizzle.
I buzzed us into the building, and we stumbled in amid a fit of gasps and giggles. Becca pushed me against the wall of the hallway, kissing me hard and deep. She deftly unsnapped my jeans before I’d even gotten my keys out.
“Fuck, I want you, Kitten,” she purred, slipping her hand into my knickers, teasing my aching, wet little twat right there in the open as we made out.
I cupped her mound over her shorts, gently squeezing, eliciting a gasp from her perfect lips. My hips rocked, desperate for her touch.
“I bet there’s nothing under those tights, is there?” I challenged, “Not a stitch, you naughty girl.”
“You’ll have to undress me and see,” she growled.
We heard a door open, and Mrs Whatsername from across the hall peered out. Obviously, investigating the noise. She gave us a stern, disapproving look before closing her door. I wondered just how much she’d seen. Did I care? Not a jot.
We tumbled through my front door. Kicking off sneakers as we kept kissing. My jeans and knickers were on the hallway floor before I’d even taken my jacket off.
I manoeuvred Becs backwards into the bedroom, playfully shoving her back onto the bed. The bed I shared with Ben. I crawled up her body, wrenched her shorts open, and eagerly shoved my hand in as our tongues entwined once more. I was right, no knickers. She’d obviously come prepared. I fondled her pussy like an old friend.
She slipped two fingers into my aching sex as I wrestled with my jacket, tossing it away.
“Fuuck yes,” I moaned breathlessly, tugging at her shorts, dragging them over her hips. She kicked them the rest of the way off.
God, I’d always loved the sight of her like this. All legs, sheathed in slinky black nylon, her pussy glistening wetly beneath.
I leant back, her fingers sliding out of me. I drank in the view as she raised her legs and licked my juices from her own fingers, her toes brushing my lips. They were warm, soft, and ever so slightly damp. I licked her soles from heel to toe, pressing my face into them, before taking the tip of her right foot in my mouth. My hand slid up her inner thigh to stroke her pussy with my thumb. My breath was ragged, excitement and lust coursing through me as I stroked her in soft, easy circles.
“Ohh fuck, Kitten, my Kitten, Christ, I’ve missed you.”
I moaned around her toes, watching her stroke her own pussy; as her left foot slid behind my neck, she flexed her leg to pull me down lower as I relinquished her right foot.
“Kitten, pleease,” she mewled as she languidly draped her legs over my shoulders.
I breathed her in, that heady mix of Vera Wang and her own sweet, musky scent of arousal. My cunt throbbed; I slipped a hand between my legs to give her some rough comfort while Becs broke her own cardinal rule and ripped her tights open for me.
I took a moment to admire her baby smooth mons, her lust-blushed labia, a dark purple at the edges graduating to a glistening vibrant pink centre. A bead of her juices oozed from her.
I placed a kiss soft enough to wake a Disney princess on her smooth mound before taking a long, luxurious ice cream lick upward through her exquisite folds as she wrapped her legs around me. Her hips bucking and grinding to my loving mouth. Fuck, I’d forgotten just how wet she could get. In no time at all, my face was saturated, glazed from her as I lustily French kissed her gooey snatch.
I brought her to a crashing crescendo, a writhing, gasping, moaning tumult. Two fingers massaging her G-spot, my pinky just teasing the ring of her bum and her clit firmly between my lips.
“Ooh fuuck yess yesss,” she was babbling, her back arching clear of the bed. She supported herself by her shoulders and her legs on mine. It was perfect. She was perfect. She always had been. And she was mine again.
Any vestiges of former heartbreak were gone. They dissipated like smoke on the breeze as I found my own sweet release a few minutes later. As naked as the day I was born, I’d straddled her, my own passion engorged pussy grinding firmly down on hers while Becs slid into her third aftershock. My cunt flooded over hers, our juices mingling as my inaugural orgasm ripped through me, her sexy nyloned toes firmly in my mouth once more as I rode her into the gates of heaven.
She’d kept my old t-shirt on the whole time.
The armistice was official at five thirty pm. The wreckage was strewn everywhere, my sheets were soaked, and the room reeked of sex. Girl sex. Spent and exhausted, we realised we were both ravenous. We showered together, Becs borrowed some fresh clothes from me, and we doused the room liberally with Febreze.
She helped me change the sheets, and we went out in search of dinner. Finally, our first date as a couple. And to cap it all, I finally got my fucking curry!
I dropped Becs at her place and was just climbing out of my twenty-year-old Range Rover as Ben came strolling into the apartment complex. Kit bag in hand, tipsy as a lord. It looked like we’d both had a fantastic Saturday.
xoxoxoxoxo
Now let’s circle back, shall we? How did the breakup occur? I hear you cry. Did Mrs Whatsername tell Ben what she’d seen? Had somebody seen Becs and me snogging in the café?
Oh no, nothing so mundane as that, I can assure you.
I called in ‘sick’ the following Wednesday. The plan was Ben would go off to work, Becs would ring in sick too, escape her shared flat and we’d spend the day shagging like bunnies again.
How was I to know that Ben was going to come home to check on me?
As Courtney Love serenaded us with Malibu, I was sprawled on the bed, stark naked, legs akimbo. An equally naked, sweat-slicked Rebecca was gripping the headboard and riding my face like a prize-winning pony.
I could sense my girl was just on the precipice, grinding down hard, yelling my name, when the music came to an abrupt stop.
Now, had this been an adult film, the guy would’ve just whipped it out and joined in. ‘Twas not the case in this instance.
Ben had been greeted by the view of two sweaty girls, one of whom was his girlfriend, joyously fucking the day away with gay abandon. He was less than impressed.
“Seems like you two are more than just old friends,” was all he said before turning and walking back out again.
I’ll spare you the ensuing arguments, acrimony, and the litany of choice insults that were hurled at me. Because, at the end of the day, this tale has a happy ever after ending.
You see, I’ve just accepted Ben’s keys back, and as he drives away, I’m not actually going back indoors to mope, to dwell on my wickedness. To berate myself. Fuck that!
I’m actually just climbing into my trusty Range Rover, and I’m off to help Becs pack her stuff. She’s moving in with me, and trust me, this time she’s not getting away.
Now, if only I could work out a way to break the news to Mum and Dad.
