"Thank you for inviting me over," said Kaeranna, stepping into the kitchen, "it's been a while."
Fentik nodded; there had been a number of reasons why he had not seen the gnomish woman recently, and many of them were ones he did not want to admit to. Nor was he going to admit to his ulterior motive for inviting her to his house tonight. Instead, he simply said, "I agree, it's been too long, but with one thing and another... well, I hope to make up for it tonight. Just you and me... you don't mind that, do you?"
"No, of course not," she said, smiling, "I think the last time we really met was at Lugdan's, and it seemed that half the gnomes in the city were there. It will be nice to have a bit more quiet..." her eyes widened, as she saw how he had decorated the table, with a white cloth and his best cutlery, not to mention two silver candlesticks, which cast the only the light in the room aside from the roaring fire in the hearth. "All this in honour of me? I'm impressed."
"Thank you," he said, "as you said, it's been a while, and I wanted to make up for that. I hope you like the food as much."
He pulled out a chair, and motioned for her to sit. As she did so, he rested his hand briefly on her shoulder, feeling her warmth through the white cotton of her blouse. He kept it there just a second longer than was strictly necessary, but she did not respond. Was that a good sign, or a bad one? Possibly good, he thought, but he would have to see how the evening played out.
He stepped over to the fireplace to pick up the hot food, placing it carefully on the table. He kept glancing at Kaeranna as he did so, admiring the way the firelight caught her face. They had known each other since they were children, growing up together in the gnomish quarter of Haredil, and Fentik had had a crush on her for as long as he could remember. She liked him, certainly, but they had always seemed to be no more than friends.
Or so he had thought until recently – now he wondered whether that had just been his natural reticence. He had, after all, never really done anything to indicate he wanted more than just friendship. Looking back, that was as much due to a fear of rejection as for any other reason. He was, if truth were told, still worried about that possibility, but things had changed.
The reason for that change, of course, was Vardala.
"Wine?" he asked, pouring some out for her when she accepted. He sat down opposite her, and removed the lid of the dish to reveal roast chicken and vegetables. He had spent some time on the preparation of the meal, which had, as it turned out, been timed to perfection. If nothing else happened tonight, at least they would eat well.
She complemented him on the dinner as he began to serve it out, watching her every reaction. She was dressed in traditional gnomish garb, with long skirts that reached to her ankles, and a white blouse beneath a brown felt waistcoat embroidered with yellow and green thread. His eyes wandered over the flower patterns around the edges, and the small ivory buttons down the front. It was a good quality waistcoat, surely one of her best, but he tried not to make it obvious that he was also admiring the curve of her body beneath its tight contours.
"So what have you been up to?" he asked, sitting down and beginning to tuck in.
He listened attentively to the answers, the stories of the domestic lives of the local gnomes, their small trials and tribulations. This, he reflected, was what he could never share with Vardala, for they just did not have any connection on that level. She probably had a servant for domestic chores, but they had never even talked about that. Twice now she had come into his house, they had had energetic sex, and then... well, pretty much she just got dressed and left again.
It was bewildering. The sex was certainly good in its own way – if physically exhausting, for the rogue was a demanding woman. Perhaps that was all she needed, but it was not enough for him, and the next time they met he resolved to tell her so. But she had, in a way, left him with a gift: the newfound confidence to approach the woman he really wanted, that he had always wanted. He just hoped that Kaeranna felt the same about him.
He watched her across the table, admiring her blue eyes, the way her lips moved when she smiled, the coiled braids of her blond hair. How had it taken him so long to build up the courage? Why had it taken another woman, not at all like this one, to make him appreciate his true desires?
"Enough about me," said Kaeranna, breaking his reverie, "how have you been? Met anyone interesting lately?"
"Uh, no..." he said. Unbidden, the memory of Vardala's second visit sprang to his mind. She had just turned up one evening, strolled into his house, leaving him flustered and a little embarrassed. She had said something about going away for a short while – tonight, in fact, which was why he had chosen it for this meeting, knowing he would not be interrupted. It seemed that just a few moments later she was leaning across this very table, trews and panties around her ankles as he took her vigorously from behind.
He glanced down at his food, trying to hide the blush of shame, and not wanting to meet Kaeranna's eyes. He was glad that the table hid the swelling in his trews, but he shifted uncomfortably in his chair all the same. Vardala was not who he wanted to be thinking about tonight.
"Still on your own, hmm?" asked Kaeranna, apparently misinterpreting the cause of his sudden embarrassment. "Well, you know you always have a friend."
She reached across the table, holding his hand in hers, making his heart leap at the gentle touch. He shot her a grin, perhaps wider than he had intended, but a few seconds later, the hand withdrew.
"Not entirely on my own," he confessed, "I mean, I go down to the tavern in the evening with the lads. And there's the neighbours..."
"I didn't mean you were a hermit, silly!" said Kaeranna, laughing, "just that you live here on your own. I may still live with my family, but there's nobody special in my life at the moment, either, so we're the same like that, if you think about it."
"Both looking for companionship, you mean?"
"Yes," she said, leaning forward on the table, resting her chin on one hand. Her voice lowered, and he saw that her blue eyes were fixed on his, "perhaps we haven't been looking in the right place?"
Instinctively, he leaned forward too, until their faces weee just inches apart. She made no move to back off. "Or looking, but not really seeing?" he asked.
"Something like that."
He raised himself up slightly until he could reach her, and kissed her briefly on the lips. Her eyes never wavered, so he kissed her again, slightly longer this time, feeling her respond, eyelids fluttering shut. Then the moment was gone, and they pulled apart, attention returning to the meal, each lost in their own thoughts.
At last, they finished the last of the food, and it was Kaeranna who broke the uncomfortable silence, "Do you have any more wine?"
"Yes, of course," replied Fentik, jumping to his feet, and pouring her another goblet.
"Thanks – I think I need it," she said, taking a deep draught and then motioning for another refill.
She stood up then, and walked across to the rug in front of the fire, sitting down demurely, folding her long skirts beneath her. Fentik stood still for a moment, remembering how he had first taken Vardala in front of that fire, how it had taken every ounce of his strength to satisfy her. Forcing his mind back to the present, he moved to sit beside the other gnome, wondering how far he could take this tonight, and silently praying that it would be all the way.
Kaeranna snuggled up against him, putting an arm around his back, and taking another sip of the wine. "What were we saying earlier?" she asked, her voice soft.
"This, I think," he replied, putting one arm around her, and raising her chin with the other, melting into a long kiss. She responded in kind, shifting slightly against him to get a better angle as his tongue tasted the wine in her mouth. Her eyes closed, and the kiss seemed to go on for a long time before they finally released each other, each drawing deep breaths. She quickly drained the remainder of her goblet, putting it away carefully at the edge of the carpet.
Kaeranna rested her head on Fentik's shoulder, cuddling up against him, reaching out to hold his free hand. He traced her fine fingers one by one, watching the flickering firelight play across them.
"This is nice," she said, and he moved slightly to kiss the blonde hair on the top of her head, saying nothing. "My parents will be wondering where I am," she added, not moving from her position.
He felt a stab of disappointment, but trying to keep it from his voice asked, "how long do you think you can stay?"
