Chapter 2

Sarah had not taken it well. She didn't believe it was a mistake, that it was innocent, or that I wouldn't do it again. Not when I told her; not when Amy told her; not even when the mostly mute Lisa sat her down and tried to explain.

In fact, she'd thrown a screaming fit, thrown me out, and thrown a fair number of my belongings on the road. I'd found out about my things a few days later. Lisa and Amy had rescued them for me, and phoned to see if I could come and get them. I thanked them and said I'd better wait a little while.

I considered my options pretty carefully. I liked Sarah. She was a nice girl, smart, funny. Sexy too. Decorative, hanging off my arm, or beside me in the car. Her mood swings were a problem, but I had thought I could cope with that. In the end though, if she didn't trust me, what was the point?

Despite all of this, I tried to phone her a few days later, to see if she'd calmed down and was willing to discuss things. We talked. Alright, she talked, and I listened. And somewhere about the middle of her diatribe I realised I didn't care. So I told her. I probably shouldn't have done that. It didn't sound good from where I was, and I'm sure it wasn't pretty at her apartment.

Basically, she called me all the names she could think of, discussed my doubtful parentage, practiced her French on me, and made it plain that given my attitude I wasn't welcome back. I suspect when I followed up with a substantial, loud, well intentioned and passionate 'why don't you go and fuck yourself?' it was over.

Fuck!

A week later, after dark again, I was walking past that same window, and knocking on that same door, having checked beforehand that Sarah wasn't there. The door was opened by Amy, who was alone, and looking sad. She gave me a big hug in the doorway, told me she was sorry for screwing things up for me, and offered me a coffee.

She wouldn't listen to my protests that the fault wasn't hers, so I let her make coffee while I went and plonked myself down on the familiar sofa. Amy had been watching TV, and I flicked back and forth between channels until she came back in.

Amy put the coffees down on the table, and snatched the remote from my hand.

"Listen here, Mr Mackie. I'm watching that."

"Watching what?"

"Cary Grant is what."

"No way."

"Yes. Shove over."

"Maybe there's a movie on."

"There is, Scott! The one I'm watching."

"That's not a movie, Amy. That's ancient history."

"You have no taste."

"You have no class."

"You, boyo, have no say."

"I can see that."

"Good. Now behave, and I'll explain."

We sat and watched the movie. She explained, I tried to pick up on it. In the end, it wasn't a bad movie, but it wasn't great either. The banter, on the other hand, was great. We argued happily for a while, and then Amy ran off to get my things. She came back with a largish box, and dropped it on the floor in front of the sofa.

"There's quite a bit here, Scott. I told Sarah we'd rescued your gear that first night, and she kept adding more. I never realised you'd left so much stuff here."

"I didn't think I had. Oh, hey, look at that. You got glasses?"

"Tequila? You have the best plans, even if you know nothing about movies. Actually, aren't there some in the box?"

"They're only movies if they made them after I was born. Are there? That's... Oh, these. Damn, I gave them to her."

"That's normal, Scott."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"Shit. So does that mean... Should I give back any gifts she gave me? Here, try this."

"No, I don't think so. Unless you want. Ooh, that's not bad. You want salt and stuff?"

"Nah. Mind getting a little blotto though?"

"Not at all, but we'll only get silly with that lot."

"Silly is good?"

"Silly is great, Scott. Gimme a refill."

"Done."

"Hey, listen, can I ask something? Not that full."

"You want to save some for later? Sure, ask away."

"About Sarah?"

"Oh. Yeah, go on, Amy."

"Well, have you..."

"Tried? Yep. And is it really over? Yep. Am I over her? Not yet. Am I coping? Pretty much."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to start something."

"No, I just wanted to get it said."

"Well then, good."

"Amy, she's not coming back tonight, is she?"

"No, she took off to see her brother."

"Oh, good. He'll look after her."

"You care?"

"Of course I do."

"Good. What does a girl have to do for a refill?"

"Lady's choice."

"Careful. I tend to kiss guys when I have a drink. And that's my third."

"Let me fill that again."

"Thanks. So, does that mean..."

"Hmmm?"

"Whoa, slow down. I meant... well, if I did kiss you..."

"Try it."

"Not yet."

"Oh."

"Listen, while we're still making sense here... I'm not after a boyfriend, and especially not one on the rebound."

"I never even said..."

"I know, but Scott, you just might have thought."

"Nope. I try not to. More TV?"

"Not unless you want to. Oh, God, this stuff is good."

"Yeah, it is. I like you, though, Amy."

"Like?"

"Yeah. I like to hang out with you. I like your attitude."

"Okay."

"And..."

"That better be the last one, I think."

"It has to be. That's all she wrote. Here, you have the last drop."

"God. Okay. So what were you saying?"

"Me? Oh, yeah. And..."

"Yeah, that."

"Stop interrupting."

"Sorry."

"You are not. I was going to say... And, you're sexy."

"Oh?"

"You know you are."

"I'm not at all sure I should say so, but so are you."

"Oh? I had no idea."

"Aside from that..."

"Huh? No, lean on me. Aside from what?"

"That noise."

"I do not make a noise."

"You do so."

"This is nice lying here, but... Amy, is it you, me, or the tequila? You trying to say something?"

"Maybe."

Amy turned over on the sofa, and lay me down on my back before answering. Sitting astride me as she downed the last of her tequila, she spoke carefully: "Listen, I'm not averse to a friendly frolic, here and now, but that's it. Tomorrow we're buddies. You understand the rules?"

"Yep. You sure?"

"Shhhh. Let me blame the tequila. You have anything definite in mind?"

"Hell, I'm still getting used to the idea, Amy."

"Oh, it's never crossed your mind before?"

"Oh. Yeah, it has, actually. Especially after our little accident."

"Oh? You liked that?"

"Not the fallout. Or the fall down, for that matter, but yes, I did."

"Hmmm... Lemme off here, Scott."

"Damn."

"Just for a second. I should have worn a skirt."

"Oh, I like you in jeans."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Oh, God. Or... yeah, or out of jeans."

"Sorry they're not sexy."

"Black panties are plenty sexy."

"Should I take them off?"

"Could I?"

"Oh, alright. I'd better get to take yours off, then."

I stood up from the sofa and took Amy into my arms, running my hands down her back and grabbing hold of her shirt. As I dragged it over her head, she reached back and unclipped her bra. Her breasts basically bounced into my hands, and I fondled them for a while before returning to my original task and pulling her briefs down her legs.