The door trembled slightly under the pressure of three, lazy raps
upon it, administered by a woman's slender hand. She was my
world. All the men I had ever known. And more. As the echoing of
her final knock slowly died away, my heightened anticipation was
exposed in the silent room; the only audible disturbance being my
increasingly rapid, shallow breaths and heart hammering, rattling
my rib cage with every lust-driven beat. I could bear it no
longer and, hurrying to the front door, could feel the familiar
fleshy bumps of excitement line my forearms, intertwining with
last summer's countless freckles. As I reached for the doorknob,
my hand was a falling autumn leaf, shaking in the October breeze.
I slowly, almost painfully, opened the door to behold the
indescribable beauty that stood before me. Hundreds of times I
had gone through these paces yet each time the nervous,
adrenalin-fuelled rushed ceased to fade.
Laurel. Even her name was exquisite enough to conjure up the most
delicious scenes of summer blooms and endless Mediterranean
vineyards, overbrimmed with luscious fruit. Yet these images
could never compare to Laurel herself. My personal goddess,
heroine and saviour. Her smile. Her eyes. Everything so perfectly
designed and crafted by God's most skilled artists. My eyes
immediately dropped to the floor to meet a pair of ruby wedges,
cheekily concealing all but a hint of manicured toenails dipped
in blood. The crimson varnish subtly reflected the August
sunshine and replaced the nails with precious gems. Travelling
upwards, my eyes rested on shapely calves, toned to perfection
and then a flowing skirt came into view, cruelly hiding the
perfect thighs that my fingers knew how to trace so well, a
smooth outline of the softest skin. Then her tiny waist. And my
hands were longing to wrap themselves around, holding her close.
Further up, enhanced by a plunging neckline were her breasts.
Those pearly mounds of fruitfulness, feathery to the touch and
again my hands could remember well how exquisitely they could
rest in my palms, so sensuous and the very essence of a woman.
Finally, framed by tumbling brunette locks was Laurel. Her face
and the pathway to her soul, a route I had walked so many times,
the twisting lanes and shadowy trees, I knew every detail as if
it were my own. It was my own. She was mine and I hers, our very
beings interlaced for eternity.
Our eyes met and our worlds collided, happy to be once again in
each other's embrace. Daring not to shatter this idyllic moment
with even a breathy whisper of her name, I simply opened my arms
and she immediately filled them. Our hands were searching over
each other's bodies, remind ourselves of every curve and texture
so as to imprint it firmly and forever onto our memories. And
then her lips found mine with such urgency I felt tear well up
and my cheeks became suddenly wet with tears of sheer elation.
"Scarlet, my god, I've missed you," she rasped,
her voice almost inaudible among the snatched breaths and clumsy,
Too soon, I felt her tight grip slacken. She held me at arm's
length and stared deep into my eyes; muddy green pools of
delight. Then she smiled, and the bright summer's evening seemed
overcast in comparison. Her shy, endearing smile that made her
brown eyes twinkle was the very definition of infectious and my
mouth immediately mirrored hers, in lovers' symmetry. Suddenly a
giggle escaped my lips as I realised we were still standing on
the porch of the house.
"Come in, my darling!" I exclaimed, hurriedly
taking her two patterned suitcases into the hall. No sooner had I
placed the luggage on an area of particularly creaky floorboards,
did I feel a gentle breath upon my neck and two arms lovingly
grasped me from behind. More than pleasantly surprised, I let out
a tinkling chuckle and allowed myself to be led into my bedroom.
There, Laurel, in her usual excitable fashion that I loved so
much, dived onto the bed, urging me to follow suit. Within
seconds we were an entwinement of pillows, limbs and bed sheets
with Laurel shrieking and squirming as I alternated between
tickling and planting kisses on every available area of exposed
flesh. Eventually our laughter subsided and I toppled down to lie
beside her, my head gently resting in the crook of her shoulder.
She began to stroke the top of my hair hypnotically and I
snuggled closer until my head began to slowly undulate with each
steady rise and fall of her breathing.
"I love you," she whispered, breaking the
"Oh, Laurel," I replied. "I love you more than
anything. When I saw you standing there at the door I couldn't
believe you were mine. You're beautiful and I'm the luckiest girl
"What a load of bullshit," she said "but you know
how much I like the slushy romantic stuff."
"Everything I said is true!" I protested, before
sliding a hand under her blue top while she began to close her
eyes and smile with pleasure. "I'm lucky, you're bloody gorgeous.
Now kiss me!" Not opening her eyes, Laurel bent her head until
our lips met once again. This time our embrace was more
meaningful, an exchange of a thousand 'I love you's' in the space
of a second. I gently opened my mouth and hers responded at once.
Our tongues circled and darted, leaving our hands to stroke and
caress. I felt a warmth stir below and my breasts began to tingle
under Laurel's touch. Her deft hands crept under my thin cotton
dress and gently slid off my briefs in one fluid motion. I found
her bra fastening and expertly unhinged it, with the same
effortlessness. Laurel, unable to bear our restricting clothes
any longer, violently pulled away from my lips and ripped off her
top and bra and the, slightly more delicately, removed her
remaining clothes before ridding me of my own. At last we were
naked and the sensation of her cool flesh against mine was almost
too much to withstand. Everything was perfect.
My searching tongue found her dark nipples and massaged them
until they formed delicious hard buds. She traced my breasts with
her long fingers, varying the pressure, teasing. Then her skilful
fingers slowly started to work their way down my body until they
found their resting place. Warm and wet, with tendrils of curling
black hair. She stroked me there. Achingly slow at first then
more quickly and finally varying the speed until all I could do
was let out a moan of pure pleasure as I leapt from my body,
flying through galaxies. Returning to Earth, I felt kisses all
over my body and then gently opened my eyes to see Laurel staring
down at me, a look of utter devotion spreading across her
features. I hugged her tightly before wriggling my body down the
bed to her very own pearly cave. As I increased the pressure, her
body arched in response and stifled cries of 'Scarlet, Scarlet!'
filled the room. She climaxed, tears rolling down her flushed
cheeks and I went to hold her in her final moments of ecstasy.
Laurel squeezed me tighter and buried her face in my shoulder
while I softly stroked the smooth skin of her belly.
"Never leave me again," she breathed.
"Never," I replied and, falling asleep, we lay as
one, only to be woken by the blinding first light of dawn
streaming through the open windows.
I could tell this summer was going to be every bit as perfect as
I had imagined. Now with Laurel by my side it seemed as though
anything was possible. Early the next morning as I couldn't get
back to sleep, I decided to make my love a splendid breakfast to
officially welcome her home and back into my arms. The only
problem was that my cookery skills left a lot to be desired but I
knew the smile on Laurel's face would be worth the trauma. I
managed to conjure up a rather uninviting plate of scrambled eggs
which hopefully tasted better than they looked and, as I started
to clatter about setting the table, Laurel wandered through,
sleepy and dishevelled but nonetheless utterly gorgeous. I just
couldn't resist skipping up to her, giving her a rib-crushing hug
before tenderly scattering good-morning kisses all over her face.
"Sleep well?" I grinned. I knew the answer before
I had even asked the question. Laurel was the heaviest sleeper I
knew, not even a raging thunderstorm a few years ago had been
able to wake her from her slumber. She was always out for the
count the moment her head touched the pillow which unfortunately
deadened any chances of spontaneous midnight love-making but I
knew there were plenty of other opportunities...
My mind started to wander as I remembered the day Laurel and I
first met. Some may say it was an unconventional meeting but we
like to call it destiny. August 16th 2006, I was
feeling slightly out of place at a tattoo parlour in London. My
younger, and rather more rebellious younger sister Mary who was
already adorned with multiple piercings, had decided on a tattoo
to add to her collection of bodily embellishments. And, of
course, being the supportive big sister that I was, had been
dragged along for moral support. When Mary had finally decided on
a suitable design, she sat down on the tattooing chair, exposing
her left shoulder and braced herself for the pain of having a
butterfly permanently inked onto her bare flesh. Although I held
her hand in support and offered various words of encouragement,
my mind was somewhere else completely and my eyes had become
transfixed on the curvy, yet exceedingly graceful figure standing
in the doorway.
It was Laurel, of course, but at the time I just presumed she
was another beautiful woman infatuated by some buffoon of a
boyfriend. It looked as if my predictions were scarily accurate
because, no sooner had she stepped into the shop, did an equally
attractive male follow suit 'Urgh...men' I thought, before
returning my gaze back to the sumptuous being I had laid eyes on
only moments before. Except I had quite a surprise when I
realised she was returning my stare, grinning mischievously. I
couldn't help but to smile myself. Don't get your hopes up,
Scarlet. She's obviously straight. Remember the boyfriend?
Immediately I snapped out of my daydream and turned my wistful
smile into an encouraging grimace for Mary in her last few
minutes of pain. When the tattoo was complete and after Mary had
squealed loudly one too many times in delight, she hurried to the
toilet, leaving me with a thick wad of notes to pay for her
tattoo. As I walked up to the front desk, not really aware of my
surroundings, I was violently bumped and almost fell to the
"Oops, sorry!" came a gravelly voice from
somewhere to my right. I turned to see Laurel's boyfriend with
his nose buried deep in one of the design books, obviously trying
to make the difficult decision. Without warning, there was a cool
hand on my shoulder.
"Please excuse Max, my brother can be so
"Brother?!" Maybe it came out a little too loud
and excited than appropriate but I didn't care, I was just happy
that I might have a chance with Laurel after all, although
whether she played for my team was an entirely different kettle
of fish. Thankfully, she graciously laughed off my outburst and
"I'm Laurel, and this great oaf is my oldest
brother Max." I chuckled at this introduction before replying,
"Scarlet Matisse, and the girl in the loo is my
sister Mary. So I see we've both been dragged along here for the
same purpose. Supporting siblings in their time of need? What a
"Haha, well I can assure you I wouldn't touch
this place with a bargepole if it wasn't for Max; I am totally
pathetic when it comes to pain." We had little time to say much
else before Mary reappeared, grabbing my hand, wanting to leave
and show off her newly decorated shoulder to everyone in sight.
As we walked out the door, Laurel took hold of my left hand,
stopping me in my tracks, and carefully rolled up the sleeve of
my shirt to scribble her mobile number in a vibrant orange
permanent marker she had produced from her bag.
"Call me," she whispered. I most certainly would.