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Tender Touch

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for E.

She must be a fixture at the pub because you see her there almost every time you go. She sits at the end of the bar, sometimes with another person, often alone. She seems normal enough: a little shorter than you, maybe a bit older, oval face, waist-length red hair. Her build is hard to tell because she’s always wearing a sweater, but there does seem to be some meat on her bones. Not that breasts matter to you, but since Pat started joking about your problems with men meaning you might be better off with a woman, you’ve found yourself looking. Each time you come to the pub, you notice her.

This night is different. When you come to the pub, you find only one seat available to you: the one right next to *her*. You order your pint and turn to look around the pub. What a crowd. Lots of people talking to each other, but no one you recognize. Except *her*. When you turn back to pick up your glass. Damn you wish the stuff at home was as good as this. As you put the mug down, you notice in the mirror behind the bar that the woman is looking at you with her sparkling green eyes. Nothing especially threatening, more hopeful than anything else. It may be that she has no one else to talk to either. You put the drink down and turn to look at her and smile.

“Hi,” you manage. Simple enough start.

She blushes and smiles in return. “Hello,” she responds in a lilting Irish accent. Her voice is lovely.

“I’m Sara Beth. My friends call me Sara.” That seems to go well.

“I’m Lorien, but call me Lauren. Are you from America?”

You nod.


“Upstate New York. Where are you from?”

“Ireland, Kilkenny. But my mum teaches here and I like the crowd, so I moved in with her. Do you like it here?”

“Oh yes,” you answer, enthusiastically. “I like the crowd, too.”

So your conversation seems to go well. She tells you she’s 24 and works in a music shop around the corner. She asks you a lot more questions about home and what you do and you tell her about the pharmacy. She tells you she had a lover who once worked in a pharmacy. You find that you both have a lot more in common. When she mentions Tori Amos, you tell her you just got the new album and she’s bummed because she hasn’t heard much of it yet and she can’t buy it because her mum’s going to get it for her birthday. Without even thinking about it, you ask:

“Would you like to come over and listen to it?”

Lauren seems very shy about imposing, but you’d like the company and think she probably would too. So you pay your tabs and head out into the cold night.

Long after the Tori Amos CD has played, the two of you are still laughing and talking. You’ve rifled your CD collection and played all the ones you both like. Conversation covers everything from music to sex (the latter subject being something she blushes at). You find that, despite her apparent shyness, there is a wonderful personality underneath waiting to spring out. Maybe she just needs to be in the right company for it to emerge.

It’s way after midnight before Lorien even looks at her watch. When she sees what time it is she tells you she has to work in the morning and apologizes for having to leave. She was having a really good time. You take her to the door and she turns to ask you something before she goes.

“Sara,” she pauses, her shyness showing again, “could we do this again sometime?”

You smile, amazed at her polite timidness. “Sure, but next time we raid *your* CD collection!”

She smiles back with a blush and clutches your hand for a moment, then dashes off without saying good-bye.

* * * * *

The next afternoon, upon returning from the lab, you find an envelope taped to your door. You take it off and go inside, putting your stuff away and plopping down on the bed. You open the letter and find a card inside. It says:

Dear Sara,

Thank you for having me in last night. I had a really great time, hope to do it again soon.


You’re surprised by her thoughtfulness, but inside you’re pleased to know that someone thinks so highly of you. It must go with the territory of being such a generous and compassionate person.

The two of you meet again a couple of days later and have lunch. Lauren doesn’t ask about the card, so you tell her you got it and that you appreciated her being so thoughtful. She seems embarrassed, but thanks you for your kindness. That evening she comes by with some of her discs and you have another night of fun.

“Sara,” she asks as she’s getting ready to leave, “do you mind if I tell you something? It’s kind of personal, but you seem like, you now, like someone I can talk to.”

“Sure. Go ahead,” you reply.

Lauren turns away to look at the door. “I’ve been dating this bloke, Randy. We’ve been going out for almost four years now. He’s great. Even my dad likes him, and that’s a miracle in itself. But he’s kept putting off asking me to marry him, so I asked him when and that’s when he told me — told me,” she begins to cry, “he’d found someone else, but that he couldn’t find a way to tell me about it.”

You ucuz escort gasp, then sigh, putting your hand on her arm. “Oh, Lauren! What did you do?”

“I threw him out of mum’s house! He took my heart and dragged it along and then stomped on it!” She puts her arms around you and cries on your shoulder. You hesitantly put your arms around her and let her sob for a few more minutes, until she composes herself. Then she lets you go.

“That’s why I was in the pub the night we met,” she goes on, sniffling. “I’d just thrown him out and walked to the pub to get myself blazing drunk. But then you showed up and … helped me … forget about Randy. That’s why I sent the card.”

“Oh, Lauren, that’s all right. I’m glad I was able to help. I just didn’t realize things had been so bad for you that night. I wish I could have helped more.”

She sniffs a few more times. “Thank you, Sara,” she clears her throat. “Um, I should go now. Thanks again for being a friend.”

Lauren hugs you quickly and pulls away, but not before planting an ever-so-gentle kiss on your right cheek. Then she disappears, just like before, leaving you blushing and speechless.

* * * * *

The next day you find another gift from Lauren on your doorstep, this time a box containing a single white lily and a card, which says:


Thank you for listening to me rave. You’re a very special person.

Love, Lorien

Your face blushes a deep red as you remember her kiss from the night before. Once again she has surprised, yet pleased you. What is going on?

Over the next few days you find yourself thinking a lot about Lauren. What was it that makes her so … oh God, attractive isn’t the word, surely? … intriguing? Maybe it’s her shyness or gentleness? Maybe the fact that you have so much in common? By the end of the next week she is so much on your mind that you decide to settle it once and for all, so on Friday you head to the pub again, hoping she’s there. She doesn’t disappoint you.

She sees you come in and your eyes meet. Immediately she casts hers down and you wonder what’s wrong. You walk to the bar, but there isn’t a seat available. When she realizes you’re standing next to her she looks up, her gaze brighter. She smiles and the happy Lauren you’ve come to know returns.

“Are you okay?” you ask, concerned.

She blushes and looks away for a second. “No … no, I just thought maybe you, well, you know. I was wondering if maybe you thought the flower was too much.”

You laugh a little. “Oh no! It was very thoughtful. I love lilies.”

She sighs and then smiles. “Oh, that makes me feel better.”

You talk for a few more minutes, but it is obvious the atmosphere of the pub isn’t appropriate anymore, so you leave together and return to your place. As you’re walking, Lauren is silent, but about half-way there you feel her hand steal into yours. A tingle goes through your arm and you repress an urge to jerk your hand away. Some part of you says that it isn’t right, but another part says it would be rude and maybe even hurtful to pull away from her just now. You keep control, squeeze her hand to reassure her, and walk the rest of the way home.

Once inside you offer Lauren some tea and the two of you sit back and talk some more, this time you tell her a bit about your recent trouble with men and she starts to feel better, knowing she isn’t the only one with problems.

“Men. They’re all jerks,” she states firmly.

“Well, until we find ones that aren’t, anyway. The free ones are jerks and the good ones are taken,” you reply.

She looks at you for a long time, not seeming to be able to take her eyes away from you. After a moment or two you start to blush and she looks away. After that you both sit back and listen to music, neither of you really saying anything. It seems as though Lauren is just thinking, staring off into nothingness. You wonder what’s on her mind, but you don’t ask, you just look at her as she stares across the room. Her long hair hangs down her back and over her shoulders, some of it drapes over the front of her sweater, covering the bumps of her smallish breasts. You wonder how she takes such good care of it, making it look so soft and beautiful.

As it rolls past one in the morning, you ask if she has to work early. She stirs out of her contemplation.

“No, but I can go if you need to sleep.”

“Oh no, I was just checking to make sure you knew what time it was.”

“I-I knew. Look, Sara, are you tired?”

You suppress a yawn. “Well, a little, yeah. But I don’t want you to leave if something’s wrong. You seem a little quiet.”

She blushes. “I was just wondering about things. Men, you know, our problems.”


“I don’t really want to leave either, but I hate to impose.”

You stand up. “No, no. Listen, why don’t you stay the night? There’s room on the couch.”

She stands up. “Oh no, I couldn’t do that,” she says and heads for the door.

“Lauren, what’s wrong? Wait, don’t go!” you call after her.

She stops ümraniye escort with her hand on the knob. “I-I’m sorry. I’m just not used to people being so nice to me. I don’t want to impose. Besides, I don’t have anything to sleep in.”

You walk over to your dresser and pull open a drawer. “It’s not a problem, really. I have plenty of room and plenty of things for you to wear. Please, stay and talk to me.”

Lauren lets go of the handle and turns back, walking toward you. She takes your hand and holds it tightly, then hugs you close to her. You feel flushed once again, but this time you return the hug warmly. After a few seconds she pulls away and walks to the bathroom.

“I need to get ready. Can you find something for me to wear?”

“Sure,” you answer and start rummaging through the drawer.

You hear her busy in the bathroom while you look for a nightshirt. Finding one you pull it out, walk to the bathroom door and knock.

“Found one for you,” you announce.

The door opens and a bare arm appears, taking the shirt from your hand. You start to walk away, but you realize the she hasn’t closed the door. Going back to close it, you notice Lauren’s reflection in the mirror. Her back is to it, so you can see the delicate creaminess of her ivory skin. Her shoulder blades and spine add sharp angles to her otherwise smooth flesh. On her right shoulder there is a complex tattoo about the size of your hand made up of long, slender golden leaves and three bright-looking stars. In a simple Gothic script, written below it, are the words ‘Lorien the Fair’.

Looking downwards, following the curve of her back as it plunges to her hips, you are shocked to discover her smooth, tight behind bared in the mirror. You almost look away, but your heart races and you feel compelled to look longer. Momentarily, as you watch with growing interest the movements of her beautiful bottom, Lauren starts to pull up a pair of satin green knickers. As she does, she turns toward the mirror and you catch a glimpse of the brass-red forest between her legs before it is covered by her underwear. When she stands up to pull down the nightshirt, you can plainly see her small but firm breasts hidden beneath the canopy of her long red hair. The heat of what you thought was embarrassment now reveals itself for what you had feared it was, excitement, as you feel a twinge of moisture inside your own underwear. You turn away from the door and walk to your dresser, fuming at yourself, and start to change. How could you think about another woman? It isn’t right. What would Lauren say? As you remove your outer clothes, you try to concentrate on something mundane, but thoughts of Lauren keep coming back to you.

“I’m going to kill you for putting this into my head, Patrick Donovan,” you say to yourself.

You slip off your pants and drop them onto the chair with your shirt. As you remove your bra and toss it onto the chair also, leaving you in your lacy black knickers, you hear someone behind you. You turn quickly, pulling your arms to your chest to cover your breasts, and see that it is Lauren, dressed in the nightshirt and ready to climb onto the couch. She turns away.

“I’m sorry, go ahead and finish,” she says.

You turn back and pull on the nightshirt, wondering if she had been watching you for long. Part of you hopes she had been.

You and Lauren sit and talk for a little while, but sleep seems to come over you both and you bring her a blanket and pillow. When your guest is settled in you turn out the light and crawl under your own covers. Laying there you begin to think about Lauren again, wondering what it would be like if she, well, if she was interested in being intimate with you. You fall asleep with dreams of her arms wrapped around you tightly in the night…

…you are stirred by the feel of someone sitting on the bed. At first you’re disoriented, forgetting you had a guest, and you jerk awake with a gasp. Your heart slows down when you realize it is Lauren, sitting on the edge of the bed trying gently to wake you.

“I’m so sorry, love,” she says, her voice shuddering, “but it’s cold and I-I wondered, um, could I-could I…

Your heart skips a beat, but without a word you throw back the covers. Lauren puts the extra pillow in place and crawls in. You feel her bare feet brush against your legs and you have to stifle a gasp. What is going on with you? You feel like a schoolgirl doing something naughty with the boy next door.

Lauren pulls the covers back up and turns on her side to face you. Something about her face in the dim light of the room strikes you as indescribably beautiful. You notice now, more then ever before, the sensuality that she exudes and your heart begins to race as you wonder what might happen.

“Thanks,” she whispers.

“Anytime,” you respond and turn over to sleep again, but sleep is hard to come by after that.

Later on your eyes open when you feel something touch you. As you shake off sleep you realize that Lauren, whose deep breathing you can hear as she sleeps next to you, has thrown üsküdar escort her arm over you. Instinctively, despite your inner fear, you move back towards her a bit and that triggers her response. Her arm slips under the covers and wraps around your chest, just below your breasts, holding you tight as she scoots closer. Now you can feel her warm breath on your neck and a chill shoots down your back and legs. As her embrace tightens you can also feel the soft pressure from her breasts through her shirt and yours. A rush of warmth fills your loins, but you close your eyes and try to sleep. This is all the further it should go.

The sensual warmth of a kiss on your neck makes you shudder awake once more. Lauren’s arm has slipped from your chest and her hand now strokes up and down your arm. Her hot, moist lips burn another hole into your soul as they move along your neck towards your ear. The kisses are so gentle and slow, not rough or hard at all, just tender and soft. You shudder once again. Your inner fear tells you to make her stop, but your sensuality is afraid to. It wants this. It needs to know.

You turn over and face her once more. She pulls back her arms and a look of fear crosses her eyes too.

“Please, Sara, don’t be angry with me.”

You find her hand and squeeze it. “No, Lauren, it’s all right. I don’t want you to stop.” Your inner fear curses, realizing it is losing.

Lauren’s eyes glimmer with passion as she moves closer to you. Slowly her arms encircle you and yours respond in kind. Suddenly there is a warm, sensual body in your embrace. A woman who has sent you all the signals of romantic interest and you can finally read them. Ever so slowly her lips move towards yours, her chest presses into yours, and you feel her legs begin to intertwine with yours. Your heart pounds like a bass drum, anticipating the moment of —

— Lauren’s lips press into yours. A charge of incredible sensual force surges through your body, making every part tingle. Her lips are so unbelievably soft and wet. They’re like none you’ve ever kissed before. Her hand slides to the back of your head and she holds it tightly as she presses her lips harder into yours. Your hands slide up and down her back and through her hair. You can feel her breasts rubbing against yours through the fabric as she begins moving against you.

The kiss seems to go on and on. Lauren, using her sudden burst of sensual energy, rolls you onto your back and comes with you. Now you find yourself laying beneath this woman, whom you barely know but have come to feel is a very special person, and she begins to move against you. You open your legs instinctively for her, raising your knees and feeling her slip between them. The gentle thrusting motion of her hips makes creates friction against your knickers, which rub against your mound, causing you to flush with warmth and moisture. You run your hands up and down her back, sometimes carrying them to her bottom. Once, when you bring them up, you slip them under her nightshirt and slide them up over the bare skin of her back. Her mouth breaks your long kiss and she moans at your touch. She lifts herself above you, driving her pelvis harder against your sex, and allows you to pull off her shirt.

In the dim light you can see the raised mounds of her breasts. Your heart seems to beat faster as you reach up and gently touch one of them. The skin is so soft and smooth, yet firm. Her nipples, you can feel, are hard as gum drops and she gasps when you gently squeeze one of them.

“Is this what a man feels when he touches me?” you ask yourself.

You cup the breast for a moment before letting go. Then Lauren sits up on her knees and lifts your nightshirt. You raise your back after hesitating for just a moment and watch as she pulls it slowly up, revealing to her the round, succulent fruit of your own chest. You sit up in front of her, on your knees as well, and allow her to remove you shirt the rest of the way. The two of you are sitting, face to face, clad only in your underpants. She looks longingly at your breasts as they hang lightly on your bare chest. Slowly she extends her hand towards it, cupping it warmly in the palm of her hand. You breathe in sharply. This is all so different from having a man touch you there. So much softer. Lauren clasps your other breast in her other hand and gently presses on them both, flattening them against your chest, rubbing your nipples in circles with her thumbs. You lean your head back and begin to moan softly.

Lauren’s hands slip from your breasts and slide around your back. She pulls you toward her and you feel the warmth of her bosoms as they brush yours. Your mouths move together, hands grasping each other’s heads as you caress your way around your bodies. Lauren’s tongue parts her lips and flicks against yours. You give in to curiosity and desire and let it slip into your mouth. What fire, what electricity! The soft, sweet intruder invades your mouth, brushing and caressing your tongue. You respond the same and she moans deep in her throat. Her grip on you tightens as her hands move to your back. Suddenly she breaks the kiss and begins kissing your cheek and works back to your ear. You feel her tongue dive into it and you let out a soft scream of pleasure. Her sensual energy grows stronger and she moves down to your throat, ever so gently biting your skin. You wriggle with pleasure against her nude chest, breathing in deep gasps.

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