Such a Little Thing Ch. 03


This is the final part of a lesbian romance. I split the story into three parts to keep each one a reasonable length but it is a continuous story so you’ll need to read part one first, which can be found at:

http: //www..com/s/such-a-little-thing-ch-01

Many thanks must go to EarthlyRose for her help editing this story. In addition, gratitude and thanks also to Winterreisser for his further editorial comments and suggestions.

I also want to say herzlichen Dank to Kat for her enthusiasm, encouragement and feedback as I was writing this story. I’m glad to have you as a friend.

Thanks to all my readers for the many positive comments. I hope you find this as enjoyable and a fitting conclusion to the story.

As always, feedback and comments are greatly appreciated.


CHAPTER 11 — ‘What are you doing here?’

We were both a little tender the next morning so we made love gently with our tongues, lapping and licking each other to orgasm. We showered together again, reluctant to spend a moment not touching until we went, ravenous, to a late breakfast. As we walked in we were greeted by the waitress who had served us last night. As she led us to a table Milla expressed her surprise at seeing her working again in the morning. “Shift change,” she explained. “I was on late shift last week and early shift this week. The changeover is horrible.”

She seated us and took our order. Just before she left she looked a little bashful as she asked, “Did you, er,” she lowered her voice, “I mean, you did have a good night I hope? I don’t mean to intrude.”

We both laughed. “Don’t worry, you’re not intruding,” I replied, glancing at Milla, who nodded, “and we spent a wonderful night together, thank you.” I heard Milla gasp and the waitress blushed.

As she moved away, Milla poked me in the ribs. “Amber!” she hissed, “I can’t believe you said that so loudly: that we actually spent the night together!”

“But she knew, didn’t she?”

“She did, but the people on the other tables didn’t! There are such things as subtlety and discretion you know.” I hung my head apologetically.

“Sorry — I should have kept my voice down.”

“It’s okay: I don’t think anyone actually heard you, luckily.”

Over breakfast, we planned our last day. We’d check out and then become tourists for a few hours. Milla was happy with my suggestion of travelling by Tube to Green Park from where we could walk over to see Buckingham Palace and the Houses of Parliament. We would have to carry our bags but that couldn’t be helped. From Green Park, we could then catch the Tube to Waterloo for the train home.

I apologised to the waitress for making her blush and breakfast became a very relaxed, light-hearted meal as the three of us chatted and joked. I think she was in the bi-curious category, which explained her acceptance of us and her comments last night. However, as Milla had cautioned me to ‘subtlety and discretion’ I thought it best not to ask.

We returned to our room and packed before checking out a little before eleven o’clock. As the receptionist handed me the bill she said, “Thank you, Ms Taylor, the bill has, of course, already been settled. I hope you both enjoyed your stay.” I assured her that we’d both had a wonderful time.

The Underground journey was the usual hot and noisy experience I remembered. It was also surprisingly busy given that it was a bank holiday. “The Tube is so noisy and crowded; it’s horrible!” Milla complained.

“Welcome to the London commuting experience,” I laughed, “Though rush hour is much worse than this,” I pointed out, truthfully. However, I’m not sure that Milla believed me.

From the Tube station, we walked across Green Park itself to Buckingham Palace. The Union Jack was flying rather than the Royal Standard, so the Queen was not at home that day and we only managed glimpses of the end of the Changing of the Guard ceremony through the crowds at the railings. Walking through St James’s Park we came to the Palace of Westminster where we wandered around the outside for a bit. Unfortunately, there wasn’t that much to do so we headed back to Green Park again and on the way bought a couple of overpriced but wonderfully cold Diet Cokes.

Back in the Park, we found a tree to sit beneath in the leaf-dappled shade. Milla sat with her back against the trunk and I lay with my head in her lap. We chatted quietly and sipped our drinks. Milla looked down at me and I gazed into her beautiful eyes as she stroked my hair. She lowered her head slowly. “I love you, Milla,” I sighed and our lips met softly as I closed my eyes. The kiss lingered and, as our lips parted, it deepened; our tongues met, caressed and entwined.

A shadow fell across us and a voice drove a cold spike through my stomach. “Amber? What are you doing here? And what the fuck are you doing?” At the sound of Max the Bastard’s voice my eyes shot open and even Milla was startled by its intrusion into our intimate world. gaziantep escort There he was in his habitual black leather jacket, sunglasses hiding his eyes and with his girlfriend Jeanette, the woman who had — thankfully — taken him from me, standing just behind him.

I scrambled to my feet and Milla stood too. Subconsciously my hand found hers, grasping it for support. “I’m here with my friend,” I replied, my voice shaky with nerves, “just visiting.”

A sneer twisted his mouth “Yes, I saw the two of you. You’re a queer, a dyke aren’t you? That’s why you liked drawing all those nude women: you’re nothing but a fucking rug-munching, perverted slut! God, I was lucky I got rid of you!”

It was horrible, sickening and frightening as he loomed over me. His words befouled the beauty and wonder of the love Milla and I shared, made it sound dirty and shameful. Pathetically, I burst into tears, unable to do anything except shake my head in denial of his foul condemnation of our relationship as I cowered back.

There was a sudden loud crack! Through tear-blurred eyes I saw his head jerk sideways, his sunglasses flying from his face as his head twisted sharply and he staggered slightly. It took me a few moments to realize what had happened: Milla had slapped him, hard!

“Fuck off you evil, bigoted bastard; leave Amber alone!” Milla yelled at him.

“You skinny dyke bitch!” he snarled as he lunged at Milla, grabbing the front of her tee shirt.

“You there; stop that right now and let her go!” A woman’s voice full of command cut through the events.

We all looked towards the voice to see a short, black woman police constable with her hand raised in warning. Her calm authority was further backed up by her colleague; a burly six-foot-three man who was made even bigger by the stab-vest that he, like his female colleague, wore. Max immediately let go of Milla. “Now,” the WPC continued, “can somebody explain what is going on here?”

I couldn’t talk but Milla spoke, her voice tight with anger, “This Neanderthal was calling Amber names and threatening her.”

“Whereupon I saw you hit him,” the policewoman interjected. She turned to me, “What was he calling you, Miss?” I bit my lip. “It… it … it was…” I began sobbing again. To my surprise, I heard Jeanette’s voice.

“He called her a ‘queer’, a ‘dyke’ and, what was it, Max? Um, yes, a ‘fucking perverted, rug-munching slut’ I think it was.” She was staring at Max with a look of disgust on her face. “He was being very aggressive and threatening to her.” She concluded as Max shot her a look of pure hatred.

“Those two,” he gestured towards Milla and me, “were kissing and snogging under that tree — in public! And she hit me, assaulted me: you should arrest…”

“Sir!” the policewoman’s voice cut him off. “While she did assault you, I should point out that you are also guilty of assault and, given the homophobic nature of the language you used, that would be an Aggravated Assault, which carries a possible two-year prison sentence.” Max looked stunned.

“I don’t want him prosecuted if he’ll just go away and leave us alone,” I managed to blurt out. Actually, I would have loved to see him prosecuted but didn’t want the same thing happening to my darling.

The WPC looked at me then back at Max. “So,” she said to him, “It looks like they might let this go. What about you? Will you just apologise and walk away?”

“Apologise?” he spluttered.

“Oh, just do it, Max,” Jeanette ordered him tersely.

With ill grace bordering on contempt, he looked at me and through gritted teeth muttered: “I’m sorry for what I called you — both of you.” He looked at Jeanette. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“Off you go but we’re through; I never want to see you again. I don’t date bigoted Neanderthals.” He looked at her in shock. “God, why did I get back with you?” she asked herself, “You never change.” She shook her head in despair.

Max stood there until the policewoman said quietly but firmly, “Off you go, Sir. And think about what you say and do in future.”

He started to walk away but after two steps there was a soft crunch as he trod on his fallen sunglasses. I heard a little snort of suppressed laughter from Milla and Max glared at her before turning and marching quickly away. The tension in the air dissipated with his departure until the policewoman spoke to Milla. “I know you were protecting your friend, but striking that man was not only illegal but foolish: it could have gone very badly for you had we not intervened.”

Milla nodded, “I know and I’m sorry. Thank you for your help.”

“Yes, thank you, Officers,” I added as both police constables moved off.

Jeanette looked at the two of us for a few moments before speaking to me. “I guess you’re the Amber that Max was going out with before I, er, came back onto the scene?” I nodded. “Look, I’m sorry about what just happened; he saw you with your girlfriend, um, kissing, and came straight over. I’m also sorry babelan.net that I broke you and him up, your relationship…”

I reached out and placed my hand on her arm and looked her in the eye. “Oh, god, never, ever be sorry for that! You did me such a favour: without him leaving me I’d never have met Milla and, though breakup hurt a lot at the time, it was worth every ounce of pain to be with her now.” I felt Milla’s arm slip around my waist and hug me.

She smiled and looked at Milla. “I’ve got to find someone who loves me as much as Amber loves you; you’re very lucky.”

“I could suggest that you stop dating guys and find yourself a girlfriend… okay, not for you then,” Milla smiled at the look on Jeanette’s face. “But you’re right, I am very, very lucky.” She hugged me tighter.

“Thank you for standing up for us against Max, Jeanette; it was good of you,” I told her.

“It’s okay. I may not be gay,” she looked at Milla with a smile, “but what he said was horrible and wrong. Look, I need to get going but it was good to meet you, even if the circumstances weren’t nice.” She reached out to shake my hand but I leant forward and kissed her cheek. She blushed slightly but placed a hand on my hip and kissed my cheek in return. She looked at me and dipped her head shyly before hurrying off.

“Well, she’s not as straight as she thinks!” quipped Milla and I smiled but nudged her ribs.

“Leave her alone, she did okay today. And you, my brave, foolhardy protector, were wonderful and heroic. I’m sorry I was such a weak, blubbering wreck; I should have just told him to fuck off.”

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve never had to deal with homophobia before. The first time someone called me a dirty dyke I was devastated; now I just get angry.” She glanced up into the sky. “Shall we get moving — it looks like rain’s coming.” Sure enough, the sun had gone as dark, heavy clouds massed from the west. We picked up our bag and began to walk towards the Underground station.

CHAPTER 12 — ‘What will Mum and Dad say?’

With the sun gone the temperature began to drop a little, though the air remained humid. A gusty wind also started, making the trees sway and rustle as we made our way across Green Park.

“Amber, is Max likely to do anything to try and hurt you after what happened?”

“Well, when University restarts in a month or so he’ll probably tell everyone I knew what he saw us doing: how I’m obviously a raving, ‘rug-munching lesbian slut’ and how he had a lucky escape. I’ve one or two people I’m still in contact with so I might have to tell them…” I hesitated, suddenly nervous, “um, about me — us.” A sudden thought struck me, “Oh shit! Facebook!”

“What?” Milla asked and I remembered she’d never used Facebook.

“Look, if he posts about this on Facebook, all his friends will see it. Some of them are my friends too. And if any of them comment, then their friends will see it. Oh, fuck: Mum’s on Facebook so she might end up seeing it!”

“Are you sure?”

“No, not definitely, but it’s certainly possible. Milla, what do I do? I can’t tell them over the phone.”

“Well, maybe you could try…”

“How? Oh yes: ring, ring.” I mimed putting a phone to my ear. “Oh, hi Mum. You know I split up with my boyfriend? Yeah, well I met this gorgeous girl who runs the coffee shop next door, who’s gay and now I’ve discovered I’m a lesbian and we’ve just spent the weekend in a hotel having mind-blowing sex!” I reached into my pocket. “Yeah, that should work; let me just get my phone out…” I concluded sarcastically.

“Have you discovered you’re a lesbian?” she asked quietly. I was about to make another sarcastic reply about what we’d been doing in the hotel bed the last two nights but realized she was serious; I’d always said bisexual before. I’d used the word ‘lesbian’ instinctively and without thinking but now I thought carefully.

I stopped and looked around. We were close to Green Park Tube station and there were lots of people around, a bit like being outside the student bar at University on a Friday night. Okay, so that’s where I am and let’s pretend that I’m looking to hook up with someone…

There were quite a few guys, some very good looking and while I could see they were handsome with good, fit bodies, there was no spark of attraction or sexual interest. There used to be, didn’t there? When did that change? Perhaps I in the past I had imagined it because I had expected it, wanted it to be there. No, that couldn’t be true: there must have been something, once upon a time… perhaps, maybe.

Then I looked at a girl in shorts so skimpy the bottom of her bum cheeks were visible, soft and smooth above firm and shapely legs… not as good as Milla’s but still quite yummy. Or her friend in the short, strappy yellow summer dress, with the caramel skin and the cute face with lips that looked so soft and kissable… Um, okay, I guess that answered my question.

“Yes, I am,” I said quietly, “I can’t imagine wanting sex with a guy, ever. I don’t want anyone but you, but if we broke up, and if I ever managed to put my world back together after that… well, I guess I’d be looking at girls. And I think… yes, I’m cool with that — it’s just who I am really. I am scared of telling people though: what will Mum and Dad say?”

“Your Uncle was okay about it though.”

“More than okay: he was happy for me. Of course! Let me phone Uncle Graham and talk to him.”

An intense ten-minute phone call followed with Uncle Graham being his no-nonsense, practical Yorkshire self. “Tha needs to talk to your Mum and Dad face t’ face, tha’s right about that. So tha’ll need to get there. Get tha self to Paddington and catch t’ train to Swindon. I’ll meet thee there and drive thee to tha parents’ house. Fair enough?”

“Thank you for all you’ve done. Milla and I have had a wonderful time — until Max the Neanderthal came along anyway. You’re wonderful, Uncle Graham.”

“The things I do for my favourite niece — and now her girlfriend too! Get on with thee now and call me when tha’s on t’ train. And call tha parents too and warn them you’re coming; just tell them that tha’s been away for t’ weekend and want to pop in on t’ way home or summat.”

With a dramatic sense of timing, heavy raindrops began to fall and there was a loud peal of thunder. We hurried the last twenty metres or so and entered the Underground Station.

It was not a fun journey and not only because of my anxiety. I made a mistake on the Tube and we had to make an extra change. Paddington station was manically busy and we had to queue for ages to buy expensive tickets and then run to catch the train. Finally, we were sat together as the train headed westward out of London and I toyed with the phone in my hand. I had phoned Uncle Graham but was struggling to summon up the courage to phone my parents; once I did that I’d be committed. Various nightmare versions of our meeting played themselves out in my imagination as I sat in silence.

“Come on Amber, you’re worrying far too much about this, it’ll all be fine,” Milla tried to reassure me.

“Oh yes, of course it will; that’s why, after all these years of knowing you’re gay, you’ve still not told your parents!” I snapped back. “Don’t fucking tell me this is no big deal!” I turned away, unable to stand the hurt in her eyes and stared sullenly out of the window.

Minutes passed until Milla touched me gently on the arm and I turned to see tears on her cheeks. “I’m sorry Amber, I was just trying to be positive; I know how hard this is. I also forgot how fast all this has happened for you…”

“I’m sorry too: it was the stress talking. I know you were just trying to support me. I love you.” We held hands and sat close together. Eventually, I phoned Mum and Dad and was relieved when I got the answering machine so I could just say I was on my way without any further interrogation. The rest of the journey was quiet but it was a more peaceful, companionable silence. We did agree on one thing though: we would not hug or hold hands when we first arrived. When I came to speak to my parents, however, I didn’t know if I could do it without Milla holding me.

Uncle Graham was in his car and waiting for us outside the station. I kissed his cheek as we climbed in. “Thanks so much for all this, Uncle,” I said. As we drove off, I had to ask him, “How do you think Mum and Dad will react?”

“Honestly, love? I don’t know. It’s not exactly summat we’ve ever talked about. Tha Dad’s quite conservative but they’re still tha parents, when all’s said and done, and they love thee.”

We turned into my parents’ street. “Are you coming in with us, Uncle?” I asked.

“‘Appen I won’t, Amber love, leastwise not at first. It’ll be easier for thee wi’out me so I’ll just stop in the car till tha’s ready. Here we are.” We’d pulled up a short way from the house so it would seem as if we’d walked. I took a deep breath and opened the car door. “Good luck, both of you,” he bade us as we climbed out. I felt sick with anxiety, my skin cold and clammy.

I think the walk to my parents’ front door was one of the longest of my life. I tried to convince myself that I was just popping in for a chat and a cup of tea on my way home from a lovely weekend. It didn’t work.

So with a tremulous hand, I rang the doorbell, trying to relax and calm my heart that was beating like a drum roll and did my best to put on my happy face as Mum opened the door.

“Hi, Mum!” I said brightly and then introduced Milla. The look on Mum’s face told me that she knew something was wrong but, with Milla there, she didn’t ask me on the spot. We went through to the sitting room. Dad was there and he kissed me and then, very formally, shook Milla’s hand; typical Dad. Milla and I sat on the sofa while Mum hovered somewhat anxiously.

“Shall I get you some tea?” she asked, to which she received a ‘Yes please, Mum’ from me and a ‘Thank you Mrs Taylor’ from Milla. She bustled off and I gave Dad our story about being away for the weekend and popping in on the way back. When Dad asked where we’d been and what we’d been doing things became tricky; this house was in no way on the way home from London.

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