Page 48 of Swiping Right (and other disasters)

“Oh, Seymour. No, they really weren’t. Perhaps I was a bit slow on the uptake.” She paused while the machine made its customary coffee-making noise. “Ok, very slow on the uptake. But even though I said I didn’t need anyone to complete me – and I really don’t – that doesn’t mean I don’t want to share things with someone. Someone like you, perhaps.”

“Someone.” Seymour raised her eyebrows and then continued with the construction of dessert.

“Ok, you. I think I could share things with you. And now I’m going to stop talking because I feel like I’ve exposed myself in the worst possible way.”

“Stick that in your mouth,” said Seymour with a smile, proffering a tea cup. “Vanilla ice cream, special espresso and just a dash of tia maria.”

“Grown up affogato, love it!” said Kiera, thankful that Seymour hadn’t pressed her further. “Ooh, hot and cold. Always good.”

“Contrast is always good – crunchy and soft, sweet and sour, shy and confident.”

“I see what you did there,” said Kiera through a mouthful of ice cream. “But this is amazing. You don’t serve this at the café.”

“No, I don’t have a license. This is just for you.” Seymour’s eyes were warm and inviting.

“Well, it’s certainly put a smile on my face. And, you know, so have you.” They smiled at each other. The evening and the alcohol had worn down their nerves and ragged edges.

“I’m glad,” said Seymour.

Once they had finished their desserts Seymour led Kiera through to her tiny sofa. They sat side by side, their legs touching. Seymour gently laid a hand on Kiera’s thigh and Kiera felt a spark travel through her body. She turned to face Seymour, put a hand on her cheek and leaned in to kiss her. She stopped.

“What’s wrong?” Seymour drew her face away, slightly, her brows furrowed.

Kiera took a breath and looked down before looking back up again at Seymour. “Nothing. Sorry.” A pause. “It’s just been a while since I did this.”

“This?” Seymour gave a half smile.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been close to someone. Someone who mattered. Someone who I know I want to have something real with.” Kiera’s cheeks glowed. Seymour stroked her cheek. “Too much?”

“Not too much. Just right. Stop thinking and kiss me, please.”

Kiera smiled, her shoulders dropped, and she did as she was asked.

Their lips met and all of the intimacy and the warmth and the closeness poured into one passionate kiss. Gently, Kiera pushed towards Seymour, bringing her hand to the back of the other woman’s neck, stroking her hair. Seymour sighed, and adjusted herself so that she was lying almost lengthways on the sofa. Kiera pulled away for a moment, admiring Seymour’s prone figure, before leaning down so that she was all but lying on top of her, and re-engaging.

Seymour pulled Kiera’s shirt up and ran her hands up her back, causing Kiera to shiver. There was something electric between them, an excitement that harked back to teenaged hormonal hours. It wasn’t graceful, but it felt incredible.

Kiera kissed Seymour’s neck and then pulled her shirt up a little, gently kissing her stomach. “You were wasted on all those planks you dated,” said Seymour, breathless. “You are incredible.” Kiera didn’t know what to say, so she just carried on kissing.

They moved through to Seymour’s bedroom with minimal discussion, and soon they were lying side by side on the bed. The intensity hadn’t dropped, but for the moment it had changed. They looked at each other before gently coming back together, mouth to mouth, hands soft on each other’s backs.

“I have wanted this for so long,” said Seymour in a whisper.

“I am clearly an idiot for not seeing it,” replied Kiera, who could feel her desire building. Slowly, she pushed Seymour over onto her back. She laid on top of her, seeking eye contact to check that Seymour was comfortable with it. Seymour responded by sighing and pulling her in for another kiss. This time it was harder, messier. Kiera thought she might expire on the spot.

Kiera ran her hands down Seymour’s sides and then started to unbutton her top. “Tiny buttons,” she squeaked as her trembling fingers struggled with the task. Seymour laughed and started unbuttoning Kiera’s top in return.

“Race you,” said Seymour, although the effort of them both trying to unbutton the other’s shirt at the same time resulted in little success other than tangled limbs and helpless giggling. “Ok, I’ll do me, you do you.”

Tops discarded, Kiera kissed Seymour’s neck and shoulders and let her hand brush against Seymour’s bra. The intensity increased, and they both accelerated their actions, belts and zips now undone artlessly, and clothing discarded.

“How did I not see you sooner?” said Kiera, admiring Seymour’s body, now glistening with perspiration.

“It’s not about speed, it’s about getting there,” whispered Seymour, and then flipped Kiera over so that she was on top. Kiera groaned. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes,” breathed Kiera. “Yes.”

Seymour slipped her fingers into Kiera’s plain black knickers, feeling how ready she was for her touch. “Oh, God, you feel so good,” she said. Kiera’s response came not in the form of words, but in grabbing the back of Seymour’s neck and pulling her in to kiss her.

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