At a little past eleven o'clock the two women were making their way home from the pub. It had been a good evening; they'd done well in the quiz and had a good laugh. It turned out that Sam was one of the regulars and they had met up with her friends and been in good company all night. As they made their way down the badly lit streets Helen realised they were holding hands. It had seemed so natural she hadn't even realised it at the time and now, well it still felt right.
However, all was not well with Helen. The nearer she got to home the more her anxiety grew about where her relationship with Sam was going. She'd been foolishly indulgent, she'd let Sam sweet talk her into behaving appallingly, into letting her base desires get the better of her moral upbringing. Her curiosity had got control of her and she'd behaved abominably, rutting with Sam like some sort of animal. And then, in the heat of the moment, she'd agreed to more, agreed to return the favour. As they turned the corner into their street she began to panic; what if Sam wanted them to go to bed together now? What if she insisted? They drew up outside their adjoining front doors.
"Thanks, Helen; it's been a lovely evening. I have enjoyed myself." Sam turned to Helen and gave her a demure kiss on the cheek. It was as if their session in bed had never happened.
"I had fun too," Helen replied slightly shaken at being let off the hook.
"Come round tomorrow night," Sam went on. "Nothing fancy; I'll cook something nice and we'll get a DVD from Blockbusters."
"Are you sure?" Helen asked. "I don't want to take up all your time."
"Don't be silly, I want you to take up all my time. I like having you around, I wouldn't have offered otherwise. Just bring yourself and a bottle of white wine. I'll do the rest."
"I'd love to. See you tomorrow then." Helen reached for her front door key.
"Yeah, see you tomorrow," Sam echoed and the two women went inside their respective houses.
Helen snuggled up in bed and thought about the evening. It wasn't that going out with Sam had been that special, it was just a pub quiz after all, but any time spent with Sam seemed to make everything special. It had been fun meeting her friends, a very mixed bunch with varying sexual orientation but they seemed to have accepted her as one of their own without any questions. They'd had a good laugh along with the friendly rivalry of the quiz and she'd gained kudos when she had been the only one who'd known that Juliet was a Capulet, not a Montague.
That led on to the far more complex issue of what had happened earlier in Sam's bedroom. Much as she'd like to, Helen couldn't lay the blame on Sam; she, herself, had started it by trying on the cuffs in the first place. She also knew that, had she really objected, that Sam would never have gone so far without her consent, that, bound or not, it hadn't been rape. But maybe rape was what she wanted. With a jolt of comprehension Helen realised that the thought of being raped, of being ravished, of being taken was deeply, darkly, disturbingly thrilling; it sent shivers though her body, shivers which centred in her groin. A kaleidoscope of images went through her mind, images of being bound, held, forced open, forced to perform unspeakable acts; and, far from horrifying her, these images were turning her on, making her hot, making her heart race. Look at her response to being chained; never before had she climaxed, never before had she felt the way she had as Sam had brought her to orgasm and she was perceptive enough to realise that it hadn't just been Sam's busy fingers, it had been the restraining cuffs and Sam's words as well. Whether she liked it or not, now that he had tasted it, she wanted, nay needed, to feel like that again.
And in the middle of all these thoughts was Sam, sweet Sam. She'd been brought up to think of women like Sam, and some of her friends from the pub, as perverts, as dirty, as unworthy, as unsafe to leave around children and, now that she was beginning to get to know them, Helen's mind revolted at such thoughts. If neither Sam nor her friends were perverts then maybe... maybe this deep desire within her wasn't so evil either... As long as it was with Sam... Sam would understand, she could trust Sam... Her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep.
The next evening, on her way home from work, Helen got off the bus one stop early so as to pass by the off license. She picked out a Chilean Chardonnay which seemed to fit the bill and hurried back to put it in the fridge. Then she went upstairs to bathe and get changed. As she poured some bath oils into to foaming water she felt a bit silly getting all dressed up just to go round for dinner and she didn't want to over do it but she did want to look her best. She had even nipped out in her lunch break and bought a new matching set of bra and panties, not that Sam would see them, would she?
Dressed at last, she looked at herself in the mirror, wondering how Sam could possibly describe her as 'attractive'. Still, the light cotton dress she'd chosen was quite flattering and she didn't look too bad. She went downstairs, grabbed the wine from the fridge and headed round to Sam's. When she got there the front door was ajar and her knock was answered by a shout from the kitchen to come on through. There she found Sam busy with Salmon steaks in a white sauce, new potatoes and petit pois. Helen put the wine in the fridge and asked how she could help.
There was an easy harmony as the two women worked together, laying the table, cooking the food, pouring the wine. Helen found she could relax and just be herself without having to watch out for the gaffes she sometimes made which, when she had been living with Rob, he had been so quick to pounce on. It wasn't just that Sam didn't criticise, she also made it clear that she found Helen interesting and her views worth listening and that, in itself, made Helen feel valued and appreciated.
After the meal they went through to the lounge; Sam sorted out the DVD and they sat together, side by side on the sofa. It had been a long week and an exhausted Helen was glad that they were not going out on the town; it felt good to slip off her shoes and slide her feet onto the cushions next to her and, if that meant she was leaning up against Sam, well, that's what friends do, isn't it? The film was engrossing and Helen hardly noticed when Sam shifted slightly, slipping her arm around Helen's shoulders; there was something about the physical contact that felt safe, reassuring, and, when Sam started stroking Helen's hair, that was good as well.
The film finished and Sam, without moving more than was necessary reached for the remotes, turned the TV off and put on some soft music. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she reached down and kissed Helen gently on the lips. Without even thinking about it Helen responded, turning her head to meet Sam's, parting her lips, surrendering. The film, the wine, and now the music had all added together to relax Helen into a semi hypnotic state where any qualms about what she was doing were simply meaningless. Furthermore the kiss was electric; Helen felt as if every nerve in her body was alive. The soft, tender touch of lip upon lip was somehow magnified, the room swam and she felt a little giddy. With no rush, no hurry and definitely not breaking the kiss, Sam slid down until they were lying together, side by side, along the sofa.
With the change in position came a change in approach. Sam now moved on to kissing Helen's neck, throat and shoulders, teasing at the skin, each touch awakening an ever growing need within Helen. The dress was, like everything else in Helen's wardrobe, somewhat demure and its limited neckline was restricting the areas Sam could get at. As Sam reached for her collar to gently pull the material aside her arm brushed against Helen's breasts, adding their message to the tumult within.
Helen's head leant back, offering herself to Sam's roving kisses, wanting more, wanting something to satisfy the growing frustration inside. Sam, sweet Sam, was being kind, being gentle, when what she wanted was to be taken, ravaged. The soft tender kisses had set her on fire, a fire that could only be quenched by passion. Again and again the material was pushed to one side but, even stretched to the limit, it still restricted Sam's kisses. Eventually Helen couldn't stand the frustration any more.
"Please, please, Sam..." Helen's voice pleaded.
"What's up?" Sam asked as she lifted herself up by her arms, looking down on Helen who reached up and grasped the neckline of her dress with both hands.
