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‘Ok chick, take the rest of the week off,’ said Carol. ‘Everything’s in hand here. The boss is very impressed with the last couple of weeks’ worth of your work, so he’ll be fine with it, don’t worry. I’ll spin something.’
“Thanks Carol. I owe you…ok…will do. Bye Carol, and thanks.” Seema popped her ‘phone back in her pocket. She drew her arm across her forehead and looked about the room. She had finished cleaning the kitchen, wiping all the surfaces until they shone like new, and she had just finished hovering. Simran was busy cleaning her shower and toilet, double scrubbing to remove any trace of her uncle Mo’. A large black bin-bag full of Simran’s entire collection of underwear, as well as her bedclothes, lay slumped on the floor next to the apartment door.
It was mid-morning, and they had been at it for nearly two hours. They had risen early, washed quickly and left Seema’s apartment to catch an early-bird bus towards Checkley’s. There, they picked up Simran’s little white ford standing forlorn in the car park, and driven to her flat. Later, Simran had called her line manager at work and profusely apologised for her absence, explaining the situation in lurid detail. Seema was thankful that everything seemed to be ok. Simran’s line manager must another ‘Carol’, thought Seema.
Seema’s face was covered in a thin sheen of perspiration and she already felt the need to have a shower and wash her hair. But, they had certainly made a good job of it. Seema felt both pleased and disappointed; Simran wanted her flat to be spick and span because she wanted to be able to use it without thinking of her uncle. This meant the prospect of having Simran living with her was still a distant one; for now. Simran had broached the subject of cohabitation several times, but Seema realised that she was being cautious, not wanting to rush things.
“Which is good. It means she’s taking the prospect seriously. Patience, Seema,” Seema whispered to herself. She turned towards the sounds of industrious and over-zealous scrubbing. “Babe?” she called.
The scrubbing stopped. There was a loud sniff. “Yeah?” Simran called.
“I’m just going to take the bin-bag down to the bins, ok?”
“Ok. Thanks sexy!” Simran called. The vigorous scrubbing started again.
Seema smiled, hoisted the bin bag over her shoulder and made her way down the five flights of stairs and around to the rear entrance of the block of flats. The big bins were lined up against the wall either side of the rear door. The first thing Seema spotted as she pushed and propped the door open was Simran’s little white Ford in the rear car park which served all the tenants in Simran’s block and the three others. Parked right next to it was a black Mercedes, polished to a shine with gleaming silver alloys sitting within low profile tyres.
Seema would have thought nothing of it; many of the tenants in these blocks were city business men and women occupying well paid positions, and consequently many of the vehicles that were parked here were big and sleek. But, the car park was empty, save for the Ford and the Mercedes. Why was it parked right next to Simran’s car, Seema wondered.
As she peered at the sleek motor, she saw movement behind the tinted glass windscreen. Suddenly, the engine was fired, reverse gear engaged and the driver floored the accelerator. The car shot backwards in a screeching wide arc before gunning forwards towards the car park exit, leaving behind an acrid cloud of burnt-rubber smoke. And then, the area was silent and empty, save for the little white Ford faithfully waiting.
Seema swallowed, recalling Jake’s ominous words on the answer machine. She quickly dumped the plastic bag in a bin, shut the door and bounded back up the stairs. The door to Simran’s flat was open.
“Sim!” Seema called as she lunged through the door. The loud and rhythmic scrub-scrub of the brush came from the shower room. It stopped.
“Seem?” Simran popped her head around the shower room door before standing up. “You ok?”
Relief coursed through Seema. She immediately felt a little silly. “Yeah…yeah,” she said, a lopsided grin on her face. “I’ve done the bags.”
“Ok…” Simran smiled as she came towards Seema. “Thanks babe. I’ve pretty much finished in here. I think I’ve scrubbed the enamel off.” She chuckled and stuck her bottom lip out to blow an errant wave of hair from her cheek. In the end, she had to flick at it. Her face flushed a deep red. “What?” she asked bashfully.
Seema could stare at Simran all day long. Despite the gloss of perspiration on her flushed face, despite her hastily tied hair with a pony-tail sitting at a jaunty angle and despite the strong whiff of disinfectant from her washing-up gloves, to Seema she was just perfect.
“You know…if I was a guy, right now I’d probably say something incredibly romantic about ‘taking you roughly over the kitchen sink’!”
Simran laughed. “What, even though I stink!”
Seema nodded and chuckled. She turned serious. “Sim…there was a car parked right next to yours…it disappeared pretty quickly when I went antalya escort out…”
“Honey, you’re still spooked by what Jake said? Don’t be,” Simran said as she pulled her rubber gloves off. She walked through to the kitchen and started washing her hands. “What can uncle Mo’ do? Really, what can he do?”
“I don’t know honey, but~”
“But nothing Seem.” Simran dried her hands and walked over to Seema. She draped her arms around Seema’s shoulders and kissed her lips. “Don’t worry love.”
Seema reached behind herself and poked around in the back pocket of her jeans. Her fingers brushed against a folded piece of paper.
“Do these numbers mean anything to you?” she asked as she withdrew the crumpled and warm piece of paper. She unfolded it and gave it to Simran.
Simran uncoiled her arms from around Seema’s shoulders. She peered at the numbers, mouthing them as she read. She frowned. “Nope. What are they?”
Seema took the paper, folded it and slipped it back in her pocket. “Dunno.” She was about to change the subject when Simran sighed and gave her a knowing look.
“Seem…is this some sort of cryptic crap from Jake?” she asked, her head to one side. Seema glanced sideways. “Seem, stop fretting, please. Why are you taking Jake seriously? And this disc he’s sent…if he’s sent anything…what will be on that? Probably nothing…an album by K T bloody Tunstall?”
Seema frowned. Deja vu was a strange feeling at the best of times, but…
“Seem,” Simran sighed. “I think after what happened yesterday…Uncle Mo’ will stay well clear…and I think he’ll actually pay Mum and Dad back, you know. I think my Dad’s right. I should let him deal with it. He’s obviously got something on Mo’. So … stop worrying honey. Please.”
Simran pecked Seema on the lips and turned towards her bedroom, vacuum cleaner in hand. Seema watched as she disappeared into her little boudoir. She frowned and sighed. Maybe Sim’s right, she thought, and walked to the kitchen to fill a glass with water for some much needed fluid replenishment.
Shopping with Simran was a joyous experience. As they wandered arm in arm from shop to supermarket to shop and to more shops, Seema felt fantastic. It was companionship beyond measure; belonging, loving, happiness and a wonderful glimpse of the future with Simran.
They had shared a big salad sub and a glass of iced tea together and were on the last leg of their shopathon. A backpack each carried the food they had purchased to replenish Simran’s fridge and cupboards, new bedclothes for her bedroom, some cleaning products to replace the huge amount used to fumigate Simran’s flat and a few DVDs for them to watch together at some point. Lastly, but definitely not least as far as Seema was concerned, was the underwear shopping. Simran had ended up throwing all of her undergarments away, thinking that Mo’ could have blotted them all.
“Wow, Sim…you’d look good in those,” Seema giggled girlishly as Simran held up a pair of black thongs. She wasn’t surprised to feel a tingle in her crotch.
Simran winked. “All for you, sexy girl! In fact, I should probably let you choose my underwear.”
“Hmm…in which case, don’t buy any…I want you commando all the time.” Their bawdy giggles drew some looks from the prim-faced, and probably heterosexual shop assistants. Simran hastily took her huge selection of items and paid for them; a complete wardrobe of panties, bras, socks and stockings, all packed tightly in the remaining spaces of their backpacks.
Tired from their shopping expedition, they leant against one another, rocking from side to side as the bus trundled on its journey back towards Simran’s flat.
“Sim,” Seema said softly.
“How do you fancy going out for a meal tonight? My treat.”
Simran lifted her head from Seema’s and turned to look at her. “You know, I’ve always wanted us to go out for a meal together. Before we…before everything came out in the open…I really wanted to suggest we go out for a meal. I always thought you’d think me a weirdo if I asked.”
Seema recalled the diary on Simran’s bedside table. “You should have asked,” Seema whispered, leaning forward to rub the tip of her nose on Simran’s.
Simran smiled. “Ok. Cool! A meal it is. Where shall we go? And, by the way, I will pay, my treat, no argument.”
“Hmm…we’ll go Dutch, and no argument.” Seema chuckled. “Where do you want to go honey?”
Simran sat up and suddenly became animated. “Well, I always wanted to take you to this fab restaurant I know near – “
Seema smiled and sighed blissfully as she listened to Simran talk of the restaurant she must have been thinking about whilst writing in her diary. ‘I am the happiest girl on this planet,’ thought Seema.
After the clean-up was finished to Simran’s satisfaction, it was decided that the meal would be treated as a date. Their first date, to be precise. So, they would dress for each other, spend time deliberating over what to wear, what shoes would complement their chosen dresses, which lipstick alanya escort with which eye shadow. And Simran would pick her date up and drive her to the restaurant. Seema felt both excited and a little nervous; a heady mixture which made her tummy flutter.
“So…,” Simran said slowly as she pulled her car into the car park next to Seema’s apartment block. “This means that one of us will be obliged to ask the other in for a ‘coffee’ which, in turn, will lead to unbelievably hot love-making…” She grinned.
“But, honey,” Seema said innocently, pulling at her lower lip. “You know I don’t go all the way on the first date.”
Simran’s enthusiastic laugh was infectious.
“I’ll pick you up at seven thirty then, ok?” Simran giggled.
“Lovely,” whispered Seema.
For a moment they were happy just gazing at each other. They kissed before Seema got out. Simran tooted her horn until she was out of sight. Seema skipped up the steps and on to the path next to the newly planted trees. As she unlocked her door, she peered back towards the car park and then towards the main road across from the tended green, still smelling of fresh bark chips and recently cut grass. She laughed to herself, wondering what she was looking for exactly. There was no sign of a sleek black Mercedes.
As she pushed the door open, there was a light scraping sound on the floor as something was brushed aside. The object was a flat jiffy bag. She picked it up and as she shut her door she read the label. It was addressed to her, in Jake’s scrawl.
“Earlier than expected,” she said. She half expected another message from Jake, considering his last message had been cut off. But the red LED flashed a reassuring zero. Seema’s thumb hovered over the seal, ready to peel it back. But, she resisted. She decided to forget the package until tomorrow. All she wanted to do now was get ready for her first date.
With Simran, her true love.
Seema wallowed luxuriously in her bath. She had decided to go the whole hog; soothing patchouli bath oils in abundance, four scented candles around the edge of the bath, with the lights out, of course, and her CD Radio playing some slow and easy deep house in the background. She felt a mixture of excitement at the prospect of their date, and a slight melancholy at being apart from Simran. This spicy combination of emotions was added to by a little relish at the thought of unrushed love-making to cap off what was sure to be a fabulous evening.
Absentmindedly, Seema ran her fingers through the dense mound of her pubic hair, squeezing her buttocks together to give herself a jolt of pleasure. Once again she found herself fantasising, imagining Simran naked and about to reach her climax. Seema closed her eyes and filled her mind with the image of Simran’s face, animated and flushing a deep red as she held her breath in the throes of ecstasy, climaxing to the flicking of Seema’s tongue.
“You’re so beautiful,” whispered Seema. Her fingers had somehow found her furrow, softened by the hot water, with delicate lips splayed pink. She kept her fingers away from her clitoris, for she felt, for the first time ever, that she could climax by just thinking of her lover.
With her fingers, Seema rhythmically pressed her mound, pushing it towards her clitoris. The slight pressure this exerted on her button was all she needed. A few minutes later, her climax crept up on her, building from an almost imperceptible tug deep within her sex. Wave after wave of pleasure surged through her body as her pussy clenched and unclenched, and although it was an almost subdued climax, the duration took Seema by surprise.
Seema turned from side to side, examining herself in the long mirror. On her bed were three dresses that she had deliberated over for some time. Since she and Simran had been spending time at the gym, Seema had definitely lost a little weight. The black dress she was wearing proved this beyond doubt.
“Wow,” she said as she brushed her hands down the sides of her dress. “Almost a size down. Cool!”
It sat just above her knees, and hugged her body. Due to its thin straps, Seema had to wear a strapless bra, which she wasn’t too confident about. She leant forward, keeping an eye on her reflection.
“Damn. I’m nearly falling out of it.” She tugged at her bra and repeatedly leant over, but she still almost billowed out every time. “I’ll just have to stand up straight all the time.” She giggled, pleased that she was able to get into her black dress.
Choice of shoes was easy. Seema only had one pair of ‘going out’ shoes. They were high heeled suede leather shoes that only saw the light of day for special occasions. She hadn’t even worn them for Jake.
She decided to leave her hair natural, with a slight curl at the ends, just above her shoulders. As for make-up, Seema decided to go a little further than she would normally. Just for Simran.
Seema sat on the arm of the sofa, tapping her feet to an unknown rhythm. She had her clutch bag and a thin black shawl alanya rus escort draped over her arm. It was 7.25pm. She laughed at herself. Her stomach was knotting in anticipation. She was nervous. This was, after all, their first date. Seema shivered as her emotions threatened to boil over. She took her cell phone out of her clutch, thumbed her password and turned the front camera on, checking herself one last time.
Then, faintly at first, but increasing in volume as they approached her front door, there were footsteps; someone in heels, lightly clacking on the concrete. Seema jumped up, and tottered awkwardly to the door, before the knock had even sounded.
Seema opened the door wide. There was a long, electric pause.
“Oh my gosh, wow…”
Seema stared, her jaw well and truly dropped. Simran stood in the doorway, wearing the blue dress that Seema had seen hanging in her wardrobe. Seema hadn’t noticed it being a strapless affair, and so body hugging. Simran’s gentle curves were perfectly accentuated. The delicate bones of her shoulders stood out just the right amount, and falling to within just a few inches of her moderate cleavage was a silver chain with a heart shaped locket. The subtle scent of the perfume Seema had bought her a while ago wafted towards Seema.
Seema’s gaze wandered down past the hem of Simran’s blue dress, over her knees and down to her shoes. These were very high heels which accentuated Simran’s smooth calves. Simran had painted her toe nails a light blue. Seema’s gaze wandered back up. Simran had left her hair down, but it looked so beautiful, voluminous and shiny, and on her lips, a red lipstick that drew attention to the perfect dips and curves. Seema exhaled slowly.
“Wow, Seem…,” Simran said quietly. Her Adam’s apple bobbed as she swallowed. “You look completely fantastic.”
“Sim…,” Seema croaked. “So do you, wow…” She cleared her throat. “Do you wanna come in for a coffee now?”
Simran burst out laughing, snapping both of them out of their lusty reveries. “Well, I would, but… I’ve gone and booked a table for two for a romantic meal with this incredibly sexy and gorgeous girl called Seema…I’m trying to get her in the sack, y’know…but don’t tell her.” Simran winked.
Seema giggled. She couldn’t stop her roving eyes from mapping out Simran’s curves. “Wow…” she whispered. She cleared her throat and forced her eyes back up. “Ok. Let’s go then, sexy thing!”
Simran had booked a table for two at a very upmarket French eaterie just out of town. A grand gravelled driveway led up to the front of the building, which was a grandiose Georgian lump set in large grounds dotted with weeping willows. The vast spread of lawns looked immaculate, and the teeming flower beds added a rainbow of colours and scents. Through the huge bay windows at the front of the building, Seema made out the muted lighting and huge mirrors on walls that were covered with paintings and tapestries.
Simran giggled. The car park was full of sleek, status symbol cars of all shapes and sizes, some two-seater sports machines, others grand four wheel drive behemoths. Simran parked her car between two shiny red sports cars.
“A thorn between two roses,” she giggled.
“Yeah, but imagine what some of these people are like,” chuckled Seema. “All these cars mean the restaurant will be full of people with major insecurities.”
Simran sniggered. She was silent for a few seconds before gazing at Seema. “You don’t know how much this means to me babe.”
“Hmm?” Seema leant across and twirled a wave of Simran’s glossy hair around her finger.
“This meal. This is our first proper date. We start from here, and forget all the crap from the last few days.” Simran drew Seema’s hand to her lips.
“Deal,” Seema whispered. “I’m going to be the happiest person here tonight. You know why?”
Simran smiled and nuzzled her cheek against Seema’s palm. “Why?”
“Because I will be dining with the most beautiful girl ever.”
The head waiter showed them to their table in the far corner. As they walked through the hushed dining area, Seema grasped Simran’s hand protectively; too many diners, male diners, glanced appreciatively at Simran. However, Seema felt proud suddenly, proud at being with the most beautiful girl in the world. She smiled and held her head high. Simran leant in affectionately to Seema until they reached their table, on which sat two long candles that cast a flickering light which twinkled off the tall, fluted glasses and polished cutlery set out on the table. The table cloth was heavy white linen, starched to a good stiffness.
The waiter pulled out a chair for Simran to sit before doing the same for Seema.
“One moment please,” he said before gliding away across the polished wood floor.
“Wow Sim, this is fab,” Seema whispered excitedly as she took in their surroundings. It was quiet save for the tinkle of cutlery and hushed conversations. The dining area was huge, but only half full. The ceiling was high, but the ambience was intimate. The far side of the room was given over to a small but very well stocked bar. Next to it was a grand piano, its polished lid open, reflecting the bright brass of the strings and chassis. A suave gentleman sat on the stool, engaged in a hushed conversation with an equally well dressed lady.
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