Christine walked along the dark village street from the railway station. She was feeling frustrated: Michael had not been in the mood, and with two weeks alone in front of her, she was looking forward to getting into bed with a glass of wine, lighting a candle and relaxing beneath her warm duvet. The rain and the cold made her glad for her high-heeled black leather boots. She huddled into her long winter coat and started walking up the dark lane that lead to her cottage.
The tenant's car was parked in the drive. Christine had mixed feelings. Now that his new job meant he'd be away for weeks at a time, Michael had insisted that they take a lodger - as much for her company as anything else. She supposed she would have someone to talk to, but of course she wouldn't be able to go early to bed and enjoy some alone-time quite as easily.
Misaki was a sweet thing though: just 18, a student at the local university, she had only moved in two days ago.
Christine walked quietly up to the front room window: with any luck, Misaki would be in her room - with bad luck, she'd have invited a friend over.
The front room looked inviting between the gap in the curtains. Misaki had lit a fire, which was lighting the room with its pleasantly flickering flames. The girl was sat on the sofa, lost in thought, or possibly meditating. Her head was bowed, her eyes hidden beneath her square-cut fringe, her thick black hair falling over her face. Her legs crossed, her bare knees and thighs exposed beneath her short skirt. She seemed to be shaking, and for a moment Christine thought that she might be crying.
In the break in the wind, Christine heard Misaki gasp. She looked closer, her eyes growing used to the dark.
"Oh," Christine said to herself.
Misaki's hands were under her skirt, the girl was playing with herself on the sofa.
Christine took a step back. It was wrong to watch this, but it was starting to rain again, and her curly dark hair was getting wet. She walked to the front door, muttered an apology to the wind, and rang the bell.
After a few moments, a light came on in the hall, and she heard Misaki come to the door.
"It's only me," Christine said, reassuringly, "I forgot my keys."
Misaki opened the door carefully.
She said: "hello miss, I didn't expect you back so early..."
Christine came in, hanging her coat up.
"I think Michael wanted to be by himself. He wouldn't admit it, but he's worrying about his new job..."
Misaki nodded her head.
"I didn't want to disturb you," Christine said. "I'll come in and sit next to the fire for a bit..."
She saw Misaki look slightly alarmed.
"The log smoke smells nice, and I'm so cold..."
Christine sat down on the ledge by the fire, stretching her legs out in front of her. Misaki sat back down on the sofa, crossing her legs.
"Not too lonely here, by yourself?"
Misaki shook her head.
"Not at all. It's so comfortable. I had an essay to do, but I kept thinking about being here, in front of the fire..."
Christine was thoroughly used to the dark now. She looked at the young girl: to be honest, she could be anything from fifteen to thirty... she was so young. She remembered a young Japanese girl at college, the stolen moments in their halls of residence.
Somewhere inside Christine, a small flame burned brighter. She tried not to think about Misaki, just a few minutes ago, touching herself, playing with her clit, on the verge of an orgasm... still wet under that short skirt.
Christine rummaged in a wicker basket by the fire, finding a half-empty packet of cigarettes.
"Do you mind?"
Misaki smiled.
"Can I have one?"
Christine said: "of course, but I only smoke here, it goes right up the chimney. That way, it's our secret, and Michael will never know."
Misaki came over, knelt down next to Christine and took a cigarette.
The fireplace was big but the chimney hood was small. The two women were close to each other, Christine could smell Misaki's hair: a hint of peach, of vanilla. She closed her eyes, letting the smoke trickle from her mouth. She could feel Misaki's body, touching her shoulders, her hips, her legs.
In a daze, Christine lent forward, her lips brushing the Japanese girl's hair.
Immediately she knew that Misaki had felt her.
She thought: "oh god, I'm making an idiot of myself."
But Misaki's hand had crept around her body.
Christine thought: "this can't be happening."
The Japanese girl threw her cigarette into the fire, and turned to face Christine.
"You had a nice night planned with Michael?"
Christine nodded her head. She didn't dare to speak, her mouth was so dry.
"But it didn't happen."
She spoke matter-of-factly.
"You must be frustrated. And you looked so sexy for him too."
Christine laughed to herself.
"I don't think he notices any more."
Misaki looked sad.
"Your hair is lovely, and the dress, and the boots, and the fishnet stockings... "
She laughed: "I'd fancy you."
Christine said: "would you?"
Misaki's look made her catch her breath.
Suddenly Christine felt awkward, she wanted to get up, to run to bed, to be naked, and to touch herself. She swallowed.
"I don't.... I don't know if I..."
Misaki said: "I'm sorry, I thought that you were looking for someone to share some space and time with?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
"The way you looked at me when we met - I thought you - was I wrong?"
Christine shook her head.
"I didn't think I was so obvious. I never thought you'd know."
Misaki said: "it's OK, whatever happens."
She lent forward, kissed the older woman's cheek. As she lent back, Christine said: "no".
Misaki's eyes dared the question. Christine reached forward, her lips brushing the Japanese girl's mouth.
As if in a daze, they kissed very gently, almost chastely, the firelight warming their cheeks. Misaki's hand traced Christine's cheek.
