‘Oh. OK.’
‘It was a latte, wasn’t it?’
‘Yeah. Well remembered.’
For Poppy, remembering was never hard. It was forgetting that she struggled with.
Twenty Years Ago
Poppy was working her way down Norah’s magnificent naked body.
She’d had some idea of Norah’s body through clothing, and without trying to leer, she’d often found herself admiring her generous chest through T-shirts. But getting to run her hands all over her breasts, to kiss them and all the gorgeous parts of Norah’s body, was something else.
Poppy was aware that with every second that passed, she was getting that much closer to a more fixed label on her preferences, and right now, she was extremely good with that. It was all so right. What could be wrong?
Poppy kissed ever downwards toward the epicentre of Norah, and though she’d never dealt with this body part before, she was very excited to explore it. She hoped her enthusiasm would cover her amateurishness.
And it did. It really did. Norah was extremely sensitive and responded to Poppy’s mouth immediately. Her back arched, and Poppy grabbed onto her bottom to hold her still-ish while she worked to a chorus of beautiful moans. Suddenly, Norah let out a sharp cry, and her body collapsed onto the bed.
Poppy looked up. ‘Did you...’
Norah looked down at Poppy, her eyes cloudy. She nodded, apparently not able to speak yet. Poppy took that as a very good review and made her way back up to Norah, to hold her. Norah turned and snuggled into her.
‘Have you done that before?’ Norah eventually asked.
‘No,’ Poppy admitted.
‘Wow,’ Norah smiled, ‘I hope I can—’
That sentence was never able to finish because the downstairs door banged. Mrs Cauldwell was home.
‘Oh shit,’ Norah said, her smile falling away.
‘Will she come in?’ Poppy asked, alarmed.
‘Probably!’
Feet were travelling up the stairs.
Poppy and Norah looked at each other in panic. Poppy had to think fast. She rolled off the bed, still extremely naked, and shuffled under the bed frame. She threw a quick thanks up to Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of lust, that Norah didn’t sleep on a divan, or such an escape would not have been possible.
She heard Norah rustling about on top of the bed, pulling the blanket over her. The door opened. It amazed Poppy that Mrs Cauldwell hadn’t learned anything from the last time she’d made an unannounced appearance, but perhaps the habit of not respecting boundaries was a hard one to break.
Poppy could see Mrs Caldwell’s feet march partway into the room. Poppy held her breath, praying not to be spotted.
‘Norah,’ Mrs. Cauldwell said, her voice laden with disapproval. ‘You’re up late?’
‘I was just... reading,’ Norah replied, her voice muffled by the blanket. ‘I got carried away, I guess.’
‘I don’t see a book,’ her mother said.
Poppy looked around quickly and saw a book under there with her. She passed it up around the side of the bed that Mrs Cauldwell couldn’t see, and it was grabbed quickly.
‘It’s this,’ Norah said. ‘It’s about... space... things.’
Mrs. Cauldwell made a sour, ‘Hmmmm’ noise.
‘Speaking of which, how was your book club?’ Norah asked her mother nervously.
‘Good, thanks,’ the woman said flatly.
‘What are you reading?’ Norah asked.
Mrs Caldwell’s voice changed, becoming hesitant. ‘Umm... A book about a woman who... Likes cooking. And then she decides to become a TV chef. But people try to stop her because... it’s the eighties. No, the sixties.’ There was a pause, and then she said, ‘OK, night!’ She backed out of the room, shutting the door quickly.
Norah’s face appeared upside down over the side of the bed. ‘I think you can come up now,’ she whispered.
Poppy wiggled out from under the bed. ‘Hell’s tits! That was ridiculous!’ she said quietly. She found her pants on the floor and pulled them on, bra next. She turned to see Norah watching her nervously.
‘Sorry,’ Norah whispered back.
‘It’s not your fault.’ Poppy looked around. ‘Where’s my jeans? How do I get out now?’
Norah shrugged. ‘Not sure of either.’
She sat down on the bed. ‘Will she come back in?’
‘Unlikely.’
