Guilt , Redemption Ch. 06

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Back in the warmth of Ali’s living room, she and I discussed “our future”. Even using those words made me feel excited – but also, as I confessed, a little frightened

“Why frightened, little one?”

I looked at her with some hesitancy, but thought that if I started off by concealing things I’d get myself into my usual mess. I’d ‘fessed up about my online erotic writing, so why not unload it all?

“Where to start? Love is, as I think you helped me establish, something of which I have zero experience. I think you are the first woman who has shown me the prospect of it, and I am scared to bits: scared that as you know me better, you’ll go off me; scared that I will lose your love; scared that I won’t know how to return your love; scared that I am too damaged to love; and above all, scared of the feeling that I don’t know what love is because I am not worth loving.”

Ali heard me out. The way she leaned slightly forward, smiling and encouraging me, helped enormously. She didn’t try to tell me what it was she thought I was saying, or interrupt me. As I stuttered (an old habit which gets worse under pressure), she was kind and patient.

“Little one”, she said when I had finished, “do you think God loves you?”

I said I did.

“If God loves you, you are lovable. Do you love God?”

I said I did.

“If you love God, you can love. I know I can love you. I know you can love me. Do you believe me?”

I looked into her beautiful, caring eyes. Dowland’s words came into my head:

“Time stands still with gazing on her face

Stands still and gaze for minutes

Houres and yeares, to give her place

All other things shall change

But shee ramaines the same

Till heavens changed have their course

And time hath lost his name.”

Suddenly those words were true in this time and this place – and forever. She would remain the same forever.

Tears came unbidden and would not stop. I found myself wracked with sobs. Tearing through me were the emotions aroused by Dowland’s words. I could see Ali being “the same” but could I, me, the emotionally derelict that I knew myself to be, ever live up to that final verse:

“My setled vowes and spotlesse faith

no fortune can remove,

Courage shall shew my inward faith,

and faith shall trie my love.

My setled vowes and spotlesse faith

no fortune can remove,

Courage shall shew my inward faith,

and faith shall trie my love.”

Did I have the courage to both “show my inward faith” and then meet the trials that would come? I was lost, utterly lost. I had never know feelings like this, they overwhelmed my carefully-constructed defences. All those lead-lined coffins in which I buried emotions and memories with which I could not deal were swamped by this sudden tsunami and I just collapsed onto the floor, crying uncontrollably.

I felt Ali’s arms round me, pulling me first to my feet and then onto her lap. She stroked my hair and cooed:

“Let it out little one, let it all out. I love you Pixie.”

And then, a voice I knew to be mine gave way to primal moaning as I snuggled deep into Cebeci Escort her bosom. I just wanted to be held, held like this forever. If only time would stand still!

I have no idea to this day how I ended up in Ali’s bed.

At some point she must have removed my dress and socks as, when I woke, I was in my camisole and knickers snuggled next to her back. The bedroom was light, so it was after six. I had slept the night through.

As I lay there, my thoughts flooding in as my brain came to life, Ali turned over and smiled at me, kissing my nose:

“Awake at last my little one? How are you? You slept like a log.”

I gave a little giggle.

“How am I? Is this a dream? How did I end up in your bed – and more important, do I ever have to leave it?”

Ali pulled me to her and snuggled me up to her bare breasts, stroking my hair.

“Only for work my little one. I brought you here my love. You were so exhausted that I had to virtually carry you. Good job you are so light.”

“Did we?” I asked, hardly knowing how to frame the question that was only partly formed in my mind.

“No my little one, we did not make love. But I held you and you fell into a deep sleep.”

“Mmmm”, I murmured, “if this is a dream then can I stay asleep?”

“Not sure work would agree, and I have Morning Prayer at eight, darling.”

I giggled:

“Much as I want to stay, I think an urgent appointment with your bathroom is needed!”

That brought us back to earth with a laugh.

“Go, and stand not upon the order of thy going!”

I did just that.

As I sat there, in her unfamiliar bathroom, I marvelled.

“Do you want breakfast before you shower little one?” Ali shouted in.

“That would be nice, if we’ve time. What is the time?”

“We have time”, she shouted as she went downstairs, “it’s just half six. Hey, what do you like for breakfast? I usually have some coffee and toast.”

“Does me”, I shouted, wiping and pulling my knickers up. I washed my hands and went out – there was a robe on the bannister, so I covered myself and wandered down barefoot.

Ali looked wonderful – hair a mess, wearing just a long tee shirt under which I could catch tempting glimpses of her bum cheeks.

“You eyeing my arse, little one?” Ali said as she poured us both a coffee.

“How’d you know? ESP?” I asked

“I’ve read your stories!” She smiled as she brought toast to the table.

I felt warm and happy. Just being there with her in a simple domestic setting was the most erotic thing. I was her lover, her girlfriend, and she was those things to me.

“Are you okay wearing the same gear as yesterday, little one? None of my knickers will fit you, and ditto with my dresses. I do have a long tee-shirt which is clean and could double as a dress for you.”

We agreed that might be best, as I’d rather dressed up for my evening with her.

I tried it on after showering, and there was no doubt that it could double as a dress. I smiled as she handed me my knickers from where she had thrown them. I noticed the crotch was a little stiff. Kolej Escort I blushed.

She lent me a hair brush and when she was ready, we went to Morning Prayer together.

It felt the perfect way to end the night and begin the day. Afterwards, she drove me to work where I had a class at nine. She kissed me before I got out, saying:

“Supper at mine – come whenever you finish.”

It was all so perfect. No one had ever driven me to work. No one had ever kissed me and said to come back for supper. These perfectly ordinary things were what brought tears.

“Oh, and Pixie, I love you!”

“I love you too Ali!”

It was with a spring in my step that I went to my MA class.

“Like the new look, Pix”, said Karen, who, I bumped into on the way. I smiled back.

I spent most of the day with a silly smile in my face.

Because I was used to compartmentalising my life, I was able to get on with the day job. The texts made me happy. I loved that she was thinking about me. From being one of those people who tutted when she saw people constantly consulting their phones, I was transformed, overnight into one of those women.

Usually, I prolonged the day at uni because there was nothing waiting for me except an empty flat, but now – well now all things had been made new.

How swiftly the heart works. As I walked to the Vicarage, it felt like I was going home. Ali was at the door before I could ring the bell:

“Little one!”

She kissed me.

It was simple – but devastating.

Ali poured us both a glass of wine and talked about her day, while I talked about mine. It felt like we had known each other for ever. We were both so comfortable with each other. I chipped in with helping cook the risotto were were having for supper, and with the washing up afterwards.

Ali could see how happy I was:

“I never knew anyone so happy to wash up!”

I looked tenderly at here.

“This is something I never had Ali, ever. I have never done this with anyone else, and I just, well … .”

Putting down the drying up cloth, she picked me up instead, pulling me to her and kissing me.

We settled down to listen to the evening concert on the radio, and I snuggled into her. The concert was nothing very special, I wasn’t even noticing which Schubert was being played, so preoccupied was I by the feeling of well-being flowing through me.

At the interval, Ali made us both a cup of herbal tea, and we sat together on her sofa. All of this was new to me, and the more precious for it.

As we snuggled, I asked Ali whether having me here would pose any problems.

“This is London, little one, not the Sticks. As long as we don’t fuck on the front lawn, we should be fine. You look so cute when you blush, anyone ever tell you that?”

I leant up and kissed her lips, marvelling at her taste and smell and warmth – but most of all at the tenderness of the moments with her.

Once more, I ended by spending the night and being driven back to mine to get some fresh underwear.

As Ali drove me there she said:

“You ought to Yenimahalle Escort have a few pairs of knicks at mine, darling – or leave them off altogether.”

I giggled back, and we agreed that I would store some clothing at the Vicarage.

That set the pattern.

I would go back to the Vicarage after work, and leave from there for work. As it was closer to the uni than my flat, it was easy to convince myself that it was simply a matter of convenience – but that was far from the truth.

I would attend Morning Prayer with Ali most mornings, and then go to work, where the days seemed to blur into each other. Ali was happy – and I was over several moons.

As Friday approached rapidly, I had to decide what to do, but Ali took the matter out of my hands.

“Little one, what say I come over to yours tonight and we can spent the night there? I will need to be here at the Vicarage for Saturday night, and it would be good to be with you in your own space.”

That was decided.

I swiftly did some food shopping on the way back from work, and left early to tidy up. I did not want Ali to think I was a slut.

By the time she arrived at seven o’clock, you could have eaten your dinner off the floor, or used it as a mirror according to choice.

“Gosh, this is so clean! You must think I am a total slattern Pix. And what on earth is that smell?”

I was so happy that I jumped into her arms.

“I love the way you do that,” she smiled, kissing my nose before putting me back where she had found me.

Ali pronounced the fish pie “excellent”, and after some yoghurt and fruit, we settled down on the sofa.

Ali liked the flat and soon relaxed.

About eleven I wondered whether she fancied going to bed. She looked at me:

“I fancy doing rather more than sleeping!”

Suddenly I was nervous, but as though sensing it, she drew me to her and began to kiss me. I felt her lift my bottom off the sofa in order to get my dress off me, and began to lift her blouse. I kissed her firm breasts, unhooking her white lacy bra so I could lick her nipples before taking them one at a time into my mouth.

Somehow I found myself on the bed with Ali, and she was moaning as she was above me, her breasts swinging low so I could please her with my lips. Pressing her thigh between my legs, she turned me so that she could get me out of my knickers; I obliged her the same way. As our pussies came together, the friction from her pubic hair made me gasp, and when her clit rubbed against mine, I moaned loudly. I sucked on her left nipple, fondling her right breast with my hand as we pressed into each other. I felt lightheaded.

Ali pressed against me harder, pushing me back onto the bed, her knee pressing my wet and needy pussy as she sucked my aching, engorged nipples. As I moaned she looked up:

“I love your tits, Pix, small but perfectly formed – like the rest of you.”

My heart swelled. We kissed and rolled together until I was over her, my wetness on her belly, my hands kneading her breasts as I rubbed myself. She pulled me to her so we could kiss. This, I realised with a start, was what making love was like. How long we made love I have no idea, but when we came together in a flood of passion, I knew that Dowland’s:

“All other things shall change

But she remains the same

Till heavens changed have their course

And time hath lost his name”

applied to me as much as to Ali.

That night we were not parted.

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