Finding Inspiration (closed for MTPersson)

Tamsin reached down and grabbed another can of beer from the cool box and cracked it open. Beer frothed over the top and she instinctively held it away from her body letting it drip over the hard concrete floor. Bloody things. She looked up to see what Tom was doing. He was slowly walking around the space, eyes wide, running his hands over the rough pitted surface of the walls and taking in the view of the bay. She thought maybe he understood why she had brought him here. He had wanted to know what she did for fun, what she was like. Tamsin thought this place summed it up pretty nicely.

"Amazing view, isn't it?" It hardly needed pointing out nut she said it anyway. "You should see it when there's firework displays over the bay."

Tom smiled out at the sky, took a sip of beer and turned towards her.

"How did you find this place?"

"My aimless night time wanderings." She said, a lightness in her voice now. "You remember the hotel down there? Well I was on the roof and saw the steps so I thought, 'I wonder what's up there'. So I went and found out." She was talking quickly now, breathless almost with excitement in her voice. "I got up here and fell in love with it. The padlock was mine to keep people out. It's worked."

Tom was looking at her dumbstruck. He tried to get some words out but fumbled on them and burst out laughing. Tamsin laughed too, breaking out into a broad grin before taking a long sip from her can of beer. She understood how he felt. She had felt the same when she had first come here. It was a sense of not believing that something like this existed in a city and that so many people walked and drove by without realising. They didn't look up around them and see what was under their noses. It was a beautiful spot in its own special way. The walls held their own memories of events long past, a functional aesthetic, and then there was the view. She had been up here in all weather and she loved it in all. A bit cold sometimes though. That's what the blankets are for though.

"So...I don't know what it is you do at your 'home away from home," Tom had stepped closer to her, "But the artist in me sees a lot of stories in these walls."

Tamsin nodded.

"That's part of the reason I love it here. The memories." She looked around the room a moment, scanning the walls wistfully and with a hint of melancholy before carrying on. "And if truth be told, I don't do a whole lot here. I just come up when I fell the world weighing too heavily and I need somewhere to escape to. I bring up some booze, sometimes some dope and lose myself in that view. I even get food ordered in." She said smiling.

Tom asked her how and she told him about ordering it for the hotel and walking down and collecting it. What she didn't tell him though was that he was the first person she had brought up to her little hide away. She didn't tell him about the long nights she sometimes spent her crying herself to sleep under the blankets or the one night she contemplated throwing herself out into the view offered by the missing forth wall. Tamsin wished for those days to be finished with. She didn't want to suffer that pain of loneliness anymore but she wasn't sure she wanted to let somebody get in close to her. Baby steps. For some reason she had decided to try and let Tom in a little bit. Maybe it was simply because he was the one who triggered it off with his picture. Maybe he was just in the wrong place at the right time. Whatever the reason, she was going to try and bringing him here told him more about her than she had told anyone else in such a long time.

She walked over the edge of the missing wall and sat down on the small ledge that hung there. Her legs and feet dangled over the perilous drop and she took in the view whilst taking another sip from her beer can. Looking over her shoulder, she addressed Tom.

"So, what do you think? Satisfied you know more about me?"
 
"That's part of the reason I love it here. The memories." A moment passed as his lovely charge looked about the roomm, seemingly lost in thought. "And if truth be told, I don't do a whole lot here. I just come up when I fell the world weighing too heavily and I need somewhere to escape to. I bring up some booze, sometimes some dope and lose myself in that view. I even get food ordered in." At that, Tom just shook his head in disbelief. She had such a private life, and yet there were some nameless people who talked to her often. A shiver passed through him; not nameless people. Until last week, Tamsin had been nameless to him, just another hottie. Just another girl.

Just another woman.

"...you get food ordered here? How?"

It was a roundabout way, deceptive, not a lie but not quite the truth...at least to the delivery people who thought they were giving it to someone else. He almost laughed as he heard it; somehow not caring about the fact that she was technically breaking the law. For all he knew they were doing that right now by being here, but Tom felt himself thinking like she did. No harm, no foul. A nod at the end of it. There was more to the story, that was clear, but Tom didn't want to pry. She was clearly taking a huge risk by opening herself up that much to him, and he recognized it. Relished it.

A silence lingered while she walked over to the missing wall, sitting over it and letting her legs dangle in a maneuver he was fairly certain he wouldn't be replicating tonight. Ledges made him nervous, but at the angle the sun was at, he saw something else as the light came in. She took another sip of her beer, something Tom matched as she turned back to him.

"So, what do you think? Satisfied you know more about me?"

Only a nod. "Tamsin, I...I want to do something with you." What felt like a thousand thoughts flashed through his mind even as he could probably name them all, less then a half dozen. "You're one of the most amazing people I've ever...met, and after hearing all of that..." Tom took a step towards her, feeling his nervous grow and. "...all I want to do is-"

-grab you and let you cry into my shoulder.
-sit on the ledge with you and watch the people go by.
-find out what you have on under that sweater.
-pull you off of there and fuck you for the rest of the weekend.


"-...draw you again.
" Even he was a little surprised (and disappointed) at the words that came out, but he pressed on. "My first one of you was...incomplete. I'd like another chance." A small, sad smile. "To show who you really are."

He got a little nervous as she responded to him...
 
"I want to draw you again...to show you wo you really are."

She was still looking over her shoulder at him and smiled. She had regretted throwing his other picture away so she felt pleased that he wanted to draw her again. Truth be told, she had thought he would take her careless attitude to his last effort badly and walk away. He hadn't and she was pleased.

The sun was high in the sky over the bay and was shining into the bunker filling it with light and warmth. Tamsin could feel it beating against her face and legs. Her hair had dried properly now from her earlier shower and as she turned back to the sea she ran her fingers through it, tussling the loose curls.

"Go ahead." She said simply and stretched her arms high above her head causing her sweater to rise a little with it. Her legs rose off of the hillside too, pointing straight out to sea as she tensed her body. Holding herself like that for a few seconds, she allowed herself to flop back down, legs returning to where they were before, so that she was lying across the concrete floor on her back. Her hands were still above her head and her fingertips traced lines through the light layer of dust on the floor.

She closed her eyes and lay still, allowing the sun's warmth to wash over her and envelope her. She didn't look up at Tom but she knew he would be getting his pad and pencil out and making himself comfortable somewhere he could see her. As if on cue, a scratching sound found its way to her ears and Tamsin knew he had started. She just lay there and let the sound of the pencil calm her along with the gentle sound of waves far below her. Loosing herself in this soundscape, Tamsin found herself content for the first time in a long time and allowed a small smile to creep across her lips.
 
Tom's nervousness gradually abated as he saw her smile warmly, running her hands through her hair, a gesture that made her hair bounce. The sun seemed to increase its intensity in that moment, as if confirming that Tom had made the right decision while her arms went above her head. "Go ahead." The hem of her sweater rose as well, and Tom's eyes only unconsciously followed it, wishing for it to go higher; he was lost in a brief haze as he went through the practiced motions of grabbing his sketch pad and a couple of his pencils. He was more prepared this time then he'd been in the laundromat that night, but he was still not as well equipped as he would've been at home. Tom smiled with her, for the moment, as he watched her move.

Tamsin extended her legs away from him before swinging back into the bunker, draping them lazily as she created almost a side view for him, the sun framing her beautifully. Even through the wonderful portrait, a part of Tom could tell she was still hurting, that it wasn't as if he'd thrown a switch to make her all better. But whatever they were doing together had stirred something in her; her body language was comfortable, her smile beatific during his occasional lapse while he looked at her. Slowly, his smile dropped to turn to wonder as he started drawing, almost in a trance.

She was enchanting with every movement, every twitch of her long legs, every idle movement of her hand across the dusty floor. She was half lying on a blanket, and Tom didn't dare move it; it was a part of the situation naturally. She didn't need to be lying on it fully, because that was how it was when she'd gotten there. His mind didn't really take in how beautiful she was in that moment, with the light around her, because all he was doing was trying to put the moment on paper. To try to capture it, as if he could keep it in a jar and pull it out whenever he wanted to for anyone to see. That was the point of art, what one could do with a full selection of paints and a canvas, or pencil and paper. A part of Tom preferred black and while sketching for the simplicity of it. It was purer for him.

He'd pretty much set the scene around her on his pad, and had traced her out. She wasn't staying still, but asking her to stay entirely still would have been ridiculous, and would have ruined the scene for him. Her movement was natural, expected...and he enjoyed watching her even if he wasn't busy trying to draw her. There was a spell in this bunker now, with the light, her lying down, and Tom, for once, staying silent while everything happened. He frowned for a moment, trying to figure out what was bothering him, not wanting to break the spell until he was certain of what he would do.

The expression was right; her soft smile still there, and the bunker undisturbed, a perfect picture in his mind even if he hadn't sketched it out yet, it was already there. He'd be emphasizing the light a little more, as it had been about twenty minutes ago when he'd started, and there were elements to the scene he'd finish off afterwards. Tom gulped when he figured it out, his gaze running up her long legs; he'd traced her out, but there was one other thing that would make this portrait just right for what he was wanting to portray.

"Tamsin." His tone was hesitant, unsettled; if he was in his studio, getting his model to change something came easily to him, but this was not his typical drawing session, and he had feelings for this woman that he hadn't had for any of his 'models' before. He'd drawn dates before, fallen into the trap of using his art to get them out of their clothes, or try to make things more interesting. It hadn't really worked, either not for the date or for his drawing; being able to sketch someone didn't mean the work was truly art, you had to want to draw them, not just want to see them out of their clothes. "Would you, um....do something for me?"

Gulp.

"I was wondering if you'd...slide your shorts off and pull your sweater down a bit. So it looks like that's all you're wearing..." He knew how it had to sound, and as enticing as she looked right now, Tom wanted to add just a little more sensuality to the rough portrait he was making. It was something he could imagine, but to see it, to create it....as he gazed at her, he wondered how much Tamsin really trusted him.

And then he got his answer.
 
To begin with, Tamsin tried to be a good model and lay as still as she could, hardly daring to breath in case it messed up the picture Tom was creating on the page of his notepad. As time went on and ten minutes of her pretending to be a statue passed, she began to forget that he was there and started to relax. The sun was beating down on her face, caressing it with it's warm fingers, and she started to squirm around on the cold floor a little. Nothing major just little movements of her arms and hips trying to make herself more comfortable on the solid floor. She had sat down on a blanket to help keep her butt from going numb but it wasn't really working so every now and again she would arch her back and raise it off the ground before placing it back down in a slightly different spot.

She began to drift off. Her eyes were already closed to stop the glare of the sun blinding her. Should have bright my sunglasses. Small periods of sleep crept up on her and she found herself dreaming during those small snatches of sleep. All Tamsin could remember when she return to wakefulness was that she was in the bunker and it was raining outside. Water gushed down the front of the bunker like a waterfall might in front of a hidden cave. She had run a hand through the constant stream, waving it up and down causing the water to flow around it. Tom was holding her hand pulling it this way and that creating patterns in the water. When she came back to the real world, Tamsin had a smile on her face. She hadn't smiled properly for such a long time. Of course she had smiled where the misfortune of others had been involved, a cold heartless smile but this one was different. It was full of warmth and caring.

"Tamsin."

His voice brought her out of another dream and brought her back to reality. The cold floor was pressed against the back of her neck and the warm sun tickled her bare face and legs. She opened her eyes a little, shaded them from the light. Tom's pencil had stopped scratching against the paper. Has he finished? How long have I been out for? It sounded eerily quiet without that sound. It had been magnified by the echoey walls and was the only noise that came from the otherwise silent bunker.

“Hmm?” She moaned back to relaxed even to ask what it was he wanted.

"Would you, um....do something for me?"

“Sure, what?” She yawned and stretched out her long body along the floor reaching out high above her head. There was a small cramp developing in one of her legs so she raised them both into the air like she had before and reached as far as she could with them. For a moment she was like a see-saw balanced precariously on the edge of the precipice, her bum acting as the pivot point. The moment of danger passed though and, letting the tension drained from her body, she returned to her relaxed position again.

"I was wondering if you'd...slide your shorts off and pull your sweater down a bit. So it looks like that's all you're wearing..."


He sounded nervous, the words catching in his throat as he tried to spit them out. If Tamsin was being honest with herself, she had half expected him to strip naked and lie there. Normally she wouldn't have been against the idea. Her sex life was hardly a case of moral superiority. Hardly anyone she slept with she had known for more than week, usually no more than a few hours. For her it had been about getting off and nothing more. She never brought people back to her place, always going to theirs, if they managed to go anywhere. She preferred it this way. It meant she could slip away during the night when her partner was asleep from the drink and there would be no way of them finding her again.

There was something different with Tom though. After all he was the one she wanted to try and let in and that meant baby steps. She thought about what he had asked her to do. Nothing major. The thong incident was probably more risqué. Deciding she was OK with the idea, Tamsin opened her eyes and started unbuckling the button on her waistband followed by the zip. Wriggling her hips a little she worked the denim material to down over her butt and to her knees but she couldn't reach any further. She laughed.

“I can't get them any further.” She raised her legs in the air so they were perpendicular to her body and the floor, the shorts covering her knees. “Can you give me a hand?”
 
A moment passed before Tamsin seemed to acquiesce to his suggestion, unbuckling the button on her shorts. Time seemed to slow in that moment for Tom, watching her do what he'd suggested. Even though his request hadn't been sexual in nature, it was still intensely erotic, a woman taking off her clothes. The shorts weren't hiding a lot anyways, but his heart raced at the prospect of what other poses they could try, of her-

He shook his head in a daze. Baby steps, Tom. Get this picture done first. Hell, get through this day first.

The zipper seemed awfully loud in the enclosed space, and Tom couldn't sworn he heard the denim sliding off of her hips, down her thighs. God, she was beautiful. Tom decided to not fight it, to lose himself in the moment of her posing for him, of her doing something so challenging. This was different then the 'show' she'd done for him at the laundromat. That had been out of defiance, rebellion, and even as she kept a little of that spirit here, this was out of submission. Out of trust. A laugh escaped her, briefly breaking the spell. “I can't get them any further.” She raised her legs in the air, her shorts on her knees. “Can you give me a hand?”

Tom tried to laugh,an attempt to break the increasing amount of tension he was feeling as he walked over to her. It worked about as well as he expected it to, and he knelt next to her gently; she was still near the precipice, and there was no sense rushing this. It would've been easier if they'd been having sex, but at this moment Tom was very aware of the energy in the air right now; he didn't want to ruin it, only enhance it. His hands went to her shorts, pulling them off gently and slowly up her calves, past her feet; having to stand a bit to get them off entirely. The task was done, but he couldn't stop staring at her. Her eyes....they'd changed again. Even with the smile, she seemed vulnerable right now.

He placed her shorts to the side, his eyes never leaving hers, not wanting to roam over her barely clad body like some nervous freshman even if that's what he felt like, to some degree. Sweater, and panties. That was all. Tom didn't gulp, didn't let his aprehension show as he gently took hold of one of her calves. A shock passed through him as he touched her, a teasing touch that was not meant to be at all, and he gently moved her slightly, posing in the manner he wanted. The same to her other calf, his eyes leaving hers only briefly to make sure she was positioned as he wanted.

As the artist in him wanted. There was no avoiding the final change that needed to be made, and his hands went to the hem of her sweater. It was long, but he still caught the briefest glimpse of the other thing she'd been wearing, and again his eyes met hers as he had the sweater in his hands. He pulled it up involuntarily; just for a nanosecond, as another image went through his mind of seeing what she looked like with less on.

But it wasn't the right time. Tom breathed out, pulling the stretchy material down so it had the desired effect, covering her body. He grabbed her shoulders, pulling her back ever so slightly so she was more balanced on the precipice, accidentally brushing over her breasts, her nipples as he went back to her hands. It had been accidental, Tom would take to his grave, but the shock that went through him - and her, if he felt it right - was unmistakeable as the sweater brushed over her and him. It pulled the hem up a bit, but still not enough to reveal anything Tom didn't want to be seen; the mystery of what she was wearing beneath it still eluded the viewer.

Taking her hands in his, he placed one hers over her chest, just below her breasts. The other, he made to grip the hem of her sweater gently, like someone waking up in an awkward position. He stood up suddenly, the scene flowing in his head again, and he scrambled back to his pad. "Don't...move." An impossibility, he knew, but he just needed he to stay mostly still for a while. Not an easy request for someone dressed like she was now...
 
"Can you give me a hand?"

Tom had let out a nervous sounded squeak. She supposed it had meant to be a laugh to go with hers but it had caught in his throat and instead of laughing he ended up sounding like a squashed mouse might have. Tamsin was still lying down on the concrete floor, her head tilted back so that her eyes could see him. In her upside down world, she saw him put down his pad and paper and take a few cautious steps towards her and her raised legs. Following him as he got closer, her head slowly returned to its normal postion.

He kneeled down beside her and grabbed a leg of her shorts with each hand, gently pulling them over the bottom half of her long legs. As they reached her feet, he was forced to stand a little to work them over her boots before he neatly placed them to one side of the bunker out of reach. He was staring straight into her eyes at that point and she smiled up at him.

"Thanks." She said simply.

It seemed to be the only sensible thing to say. The air in the bunker had grown closer in the last few moments. Not only from the heat of the sun outside but also from the increasing intimacy of the activities occurring inside of it. She looked back at him kneeling over her and saw complete and utter infatuation starring back at her. She suppressed a surprised gasp as his hand gently took hold of one of her naked legs and started moving it into the position he wanted. His eyes never left hers as he did the same with her other leg. Tamsin liked the feeling of the artist's hands on her bare flesh. Other guys she had been with had handled her roughly, like a piece of meat but Tom was gentle and loving. Tamsin felt herself yielding to his touch and became like putty in his hands.

His hands reached out for the hem of sweater and, for the merest of seconds, pulled it up revealing her plain white panties. She saw his eyes dart down for a beat but they quickly returned to hers. Surprising herself, she began willing him to pull the sweater up further to reveal her naked breasts so she could feel his soft hands brush against them and caress them. The moment passed however and he pulled the hem over her panties and she replaced his hand with her own, holding it place so it contained her modesty.

Tom leaned over her and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her but instead he tenderly lay his hands on her shoulders and pushed them down into the ground in a position where she was more secure on the precipice. There was another moment of electricity between them when his hand brushed against one of her breasts and a hungry looked passed between them. But as before, it dissipated quickly escaping on the wind. Taking her hands in his he cupped one to her breasts lingering only for a second before jumping up and running back to where he had left his pad. The whole episode had lasted only a few seconds but in Tamsin's mind it had felt like an eternity. An age of aching temptation.

"Don't...move."

She didn't plan too. She found herself liking this artist more with each passing second she spent with him. If anyone else had forced her to lie in a certain position like he had just done, she would have punched them. But she hadn't, she let him do it. She had brought him here to let him into her life a little. Is he doing the same to me? Letting me into his world? Despite this, she still decided to rebel against his last instruction and moved her head back so she was looking straight at him. Nothing big but she wanted there to be something of her in the picture and not just his positioning of her.

The pencil scratching on the paper resumed and she could see it moving across the page from her inverted position. Tom would occasionally look up and their eyes would meet. There was a feverous look in his as they quickly flicked between subject and page, full of passion. She didn't know what her eyes looked like but she knew how she felt. There had been a moment between them when he lifted up the bottom of her sweater and she wanted to experience that feeling with him again. She wanted his hands to work their way over her body like they had her legs. She hoped this was what the look in her eyes told him. Maybe it was the beer working its way through her body but the only thing she was thinking was to hell with baby steps.
 
Last edited:
Tom made himself comfortable, as the scratching of pencil and paper became more focused, less rushed as he lingered on the details of her. Of the story he was trying to tell, words from images as he peered carefully at her. She'd defied him a little, as was her wont, but it made the story better. Not what he wanted, but it made it hers. She stared at him, her expression a mix of vulnerability, defiance....passion. Want. Subconsciously, he had an idea of what she wanted, but he didn't linger on it. He was too busy creating her on the page, carefully detailing her legs, how long they ran up. All the way to the hem of her sweater, where her hand laid, holding and not holding it where he wanted it. He could see her twitching, her hands wanting to move where he'd placed them.

It was part of the allure of it. Were her hands there as part of idle motions while she lied down to enjoy the feel of the sun on her body? Or did she have them there because she wanted them there? To hint at something far more intimate? Tom was enjoying how Tamsin seemed to be playing it up with her look at him, a genuine fiery expression. He thought about mentioning something about her not being a very good model because her emotions and movements were real, and not faked, but he didn't dare risk breaking the spell that had come over the bunker since they'd started their time together. One, if Tom were to be honest, that was no longer entirely about him drawing her; the electricity that had passed between them during his brief touches had verified that. Still, he worked patiently, drawing out the ending to his portrait, the torture growing for him as he determined to finish it well. He could see subtle changes in her expression too; it was torment for her as he finished.

But Tom had to. This was the best thing he'd drawn in a long time, and he could only wonder what he would've been able to do at home, with all of his tools at his disposal...his mind briefly wandering to what he'd get her to do for him. Nobody was squeamish in art class. If you were, you had definitely chosen the wrong vocation. The only interruption to his drawing was the sound of him occasionally sharpening his pencil.

"Almost done." He hadn't realized how focused he was, his voice sounded dry, so he took another long swig of his beer. The drink had gotten lukewarm, but it did the job of hydrating his vocal cords. He gently placed the empty can to the side before looking at her again; he took a moment to stand up, moving over to her and letting his eyes rake up and down her body again. Tom couldn't help but notice his jeans feeling just a bit constricting, and knew that his examination of her had not even the pretense of an artist looking at his model for details. He was a man examining a woman who he wanted far more intimately then that.

It wouldn't be long now. Couldn't be long. He made his way back to his pad deliberately and carefully, his pencil scratching over the last few lines. It was shortly after they reached the one hour mark, that he took one final look at her, and his drawing. A small smile lit his face, and for a brief moment, he relaxed, even as he wasn't sure what was coming next.

"Finished." Not complete, as no work of art ever really was. Still, he dared not risk pulling it out of his notebook, as he slowly moved over towards her, helping her to sit up a bit more comfortably. He handed the notebook to her, wanting her to see what he'd created of her, his hand briefly brushing over her knee as he plopped down next to her, facing her. "Hope you like it." He said as he saw her expression change as she examined it, and he let her look at it, his eyes lingering on something more pleasant for him; her bare legs.

Tom's only response to her was to smile, his hand idly brushing her calf as he looked at her. They seemed to be past words now, and he didn't want to get up, didn't want to move during his time with this beautiful creature. What felt like an eternity passed as the only sounds were whatever came in from the hole in the wall, the sounds of their breathing as Tom slowly grasped her calf with one hand, and then the other, gently pulling it towards him. She thought she'd been teased before, but he decided to show her what being teased really felt like. No longer did he have to indulge his artistic persona; that person was done, and a man full of want took his place.

"Just relax." He gently massaged her calf, down to her boot, which he gently slipped off, rubbing her foot until it was bare in front of him. Looking up at her again, he repeated the motion with her other one, wondering if she'd let him go farther...
 
Tamsin's body was beginning to burn. Holding herself in the position he had laid her in was starting to cause her muscles to ache and she could feel herself beginning to shake as her limbs began to loose their strength. Worst of all was her neck. The awkward angle she had it tilted at was causing an awful crick. My bloody stupid idea. But she kept at it, trying her hardest not to move an inch, trying her hardest to think of his hands on her legs so that her eyes could tell the story of longing she wanted him to pick up on in his drawing.

"Almost done." His voice was strained and he immediately reached for his can of beer. Seeing him gulp deeply from it made her realise her own throat was dry. It had been almost a full hour since she had taken her last sip and it was torment to her watching him quench his thirst. The dry tickling in the back of throat became unbearable but she persisted.

When he was finished drinking he put the can down and walked over to her. She thought he wanted to look at some detail, but Tamisn soon changed her mind. The first clue was the slight bulge in the front of his jeans. He had obviously been turned on by the sight of her lying there, half-naked looking up at him lustfully. Second was the fact that he spent a good long while hunched next to her, drinking her in with his eyes. Tom took long looks at her legs and the slow rise and fall of her chest. This stopped being about the picture a long time ago.

Returning to his spot, Tom took up his pencil and sharpened it before returning to his drawing again. A few more minutes passed and Tamsin could see that a change had begun to come over Tom. He looked more relaxed, his shoulders less hunched and the movements of his pencil had become less frantic. He must be almost done. As if to confirm her thoughts, he started smiling and took one last look over at where she lay on the floor.

"Finished."

"Thank God for that." Tamsin said, breathing out heavily and pulling her upper body up and bringing her knees into her body. "Pass me over my beer, I'm parched."

He was standing behind her and lay a hand on her back, helping her up. It felt nice. Gentle and caring and warm. Sitting down next to her, his arm gently brushed her knee as he handed her his pad. Tamsin passed her eyes over it an instantly fell in love with the drawing. Tom has managed to capture everything about the bunker that she loved. The view out of the missing wall was captured perfectly with the bay in the background. Somehow he had managed to capture the feeling of isolation that the hideaway offered her in its bare and broken walls. She looked at the figure lying prone on the floor and saw that she was filled with conflicting emotions. She saw a veneer of hunger and lust thinly covering a sadness and loneliness. Only then did she realise that it was her sadness and loneliness.

"Hope you like it."

Tamsin felt a host of emotions boiling inside her. She was happy and pleased with the picture. Sad at the memories that it dragged up. Lustful towards Tom sat next to her. He understood her. Of all the people she had met he seemed to have picked up on what made her who she was. He had somehow picked up on her sadness and pain and she wanted to thank him for that.

"I love it, Tom." She felt like crying but managed to hold back the tears, her voice breaking slightly as the words left her mouth. "I really love it."

Tom said nothing and just smiled at her. They sat there like that for a few minutes. Neither of them speaking. Both of them smiling and looking out over the bay in front of them. After a while like that, Tom reached forward and gently caught hold of her legs, pulling them towards him and causing her body to rotate. The blanket slipped beneath her, easing the spinning motion. She was facing him now, no space between them whatsoever. His hands were gently stroking her lower legs, tracing lines slowly up and down. She felt as of she was on fire.

"Just relax." Two words. Two simply words but words which carried so much meaning. He began by carefully taking her boot off of her feet. With his fingers he began rubbing slow circles into her bare soles. He smiled at her and she smiled at him. It took all her self control to not melt at his touch there and then. He was looking across at her, waiting for her approval to move on to something else. Something more. Tamsin nodded her head.
 
She nodded. And so, the art ended and the real purpose of their meeting had begun. It wasn't as if Tom hadn't been meant to draw her, to capture her emotions (which showed on her face when she looked at it), her essence in a picture of this little hideaway. As much as the man within him wanted to stop rubbing her foot, to move on to more pleasurable parts of her anatomy, the artist in him wanted to show her kindness. To thank her for being vulnerable for him, for letting him into a place she might've never let anyone in, to see her sadness, the reason why she was so angry. The truth behind her sadness could wait for another time, and Tom wasn't sure he cared. All he wanted to do was to try to mend her brokenness with kindness. With love.

He slowly moved back up her calf, rubbing it gently as he examined it, and her, enjoying the changes on her face as he massaged her. Tom could see in her still somewhat jagged body movements that there were other parts of her body that were tense, too. He couldn't deal with all of them (at least, Tom figured he couldn't before he lost control), but as he saw her seem to bend her neck around awkwardly while he massaged, he vowed to go there next once he was done here. He stopped at her knee, moving down to the bottom of her other calf, repeating the same motion, smirking ever so slightly as he enjoyed the feel of her smooth skin, the heat in it whenever he touched her, every slight movement she made towards and away from him.

Up her thigh he went, spreading her slightly, the hem of her sweater rising up, no longer hiding as much as it was before. Stopping just before her center, repeating the motion on the other side, just a little more urgently then on the other. Tom could feel the tension rising as he explored her, spreading and stopping just before her center yet again; one place still covered. But she'd given him permission; for how much, he didn't know, but at this point Tom conceded he'd rather ask permission then forgiveness.

With that, he pulled her legs back together, shuffling to one side of her. Looking at her eyes, he never left them as his hands went to the sides of her panties, pulling slightly at them as he asked her silently to move so he could remove them. The look in her eyes was priceless as he slid one more precious covering down her legs, still refusing to look at what he'd uncovered beneath; the time for that was not yet, no matter how much she wanted it to be so. He smiled as he knew what he was doing to her, and he moved behind her as she reacted, his hands going to her neck to work on it.

As strong hands grasped her neck rubbing her shoulders over - and under- her stretched sweater, he kissed the back of her neck gently, lovingly. Tom wasn't sure what was coming over him, as he'd never been like this with any of his lovers before. But she seemed to be enjoying it, so...
 
Tamsin was in heaven. Tom was gently running his hands over her calves and her whole body was responding to his soft touch. What made it so much better than anything she had experienced before was the fact that he wasn't giving her a massage or simply rubbing her limbs. He was exploring them, taking his time with his hands learning the gentle contours of her body making sure he knew them well before her moved on to the next part. A soft, almost inaudible moan left her lips as he made his way up to her inner thighs. Fingernails traced along her skin causing goose pimples to pucker the soft, pale skin. Her eyes looked in his hungrily, willing him on up under the thin layer of fabric that lay only a few inches away from his fingers.

Her thoughts of taking it slow had vanished almost as soon as she had felt his hand on her leg and now they were so close she the feeling of needing to feel her between her legs only intensified. Tamsin could see it in his eyes too. He wanted to run his fingers under her panties and between the soft folds of skin that lay hidden beneath the delicate material. But his fingers stopped short of their target and he pushed her thighs closed causing her knees to come back together in front of her as they had been before he started his tender caress.

Instead he edged alongside her, looking deep into her eyes, her soul, and played with the thin strap that attached the front and back plates of fabric. It was a request. A request to remove the offending garment. She smiled meekly back at him and without moving his gaze he started to pull her panties down over her hips. The warm air of the bunker and the slight breeze blowing in off the coast felt nice on her newly exposed pussy sending small shivers of pleasure down her spine and across her body. His hungry eyes never left hers for a second as he looped her panties over her feet and threw them away with the rest of her clothes.

Tamsin had never felt as turned on as she did in that moment. She had done so many things which had aroused her in the past. Sex in public places was perhaps the most exhilarating enhanced by the possibility of capture but that was nothing compared to what she was experiencing now never had she felt like this whilst still partially clothes. She hadn't been touched like this before. So tenderly and caring. So loving.

Tom had moved behind her and his hands were on her neck softly massaging away the pain she had developed from her hour long pose. It felt good and another moan left her as the pain flowed away. A small gasp followed not long after when his hands rubbed her shoulders under the fabric of her sweater and dipped lower onto her breasts. Tamsin wanted so badly to lose herself completely to him, to let the wall crumble and let him in fully but a small voice in the back of her head kept repeating, Baby steps. Baby steps.

She leaned forward a little, taking her shoulders away from his hands and wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging herself and rocking slightly on her bare arse.. He asked what was wrong.

"It's me, Tom." She said in a broken voice. "God knows, I want this to happen, I really do. But..." She paused, looking out over the bay in front of them. "...But I don't want this to be like every other time."

She looked over her shoulder at him kneeling behind her, eyes filled with apology. Tears were forming at the corners of her eyes now.

"I want us to be different. I want to let you in properly and I don't want to ruin it by rushing in like an idiot."

Tamsin was sobbing now, her sentences disjointed and tears rolling freely down her cheeks.

"I like you, Tom. Really like you but I'm a fucked up mess. I don't want you to run off like everyone else has."

She turned away from him now almost ashamed to be seen crying in front of him and rubbed the tears away roughly with the back of her hand. She could feel him behind her, kneeling silently and starring at the back of her head. All she wanted was for him to hold her tightly and let her cry into his arms and chest. She wanted to feel his hands run through her hair as he held her body close to his. She wanted them to fall asleep under the blankets there in the bunker in one another's warm embrace. But she said none of this and just sat there sobbing before whispering a single word.

"Go."
 
Last edited:
This was happening. He heard her moan, her body slowly relaxing as he tried to push away her pain. Not just her physical pain from the posture she'd endured for an hour (as Tom made a note to make sure she moved next time), but the emotional pain she felt, both from being used and from simply using others. People were hurt when they hurt others, he knew. It had happened to him. Tom had his own burdens, but even as he explored her body, his hand pushing the sweater lower, making it stretch, he was determined to release her of the burdens she carried. He saw it in his mind after her gasp; his hands going down her torso, to the bottom of her sweater, lifting it above her head as her arms went up and he started to-

The plan was so clearly formed that he was almost shocked when she seemed to pull away from him, leaning forward. He knew what that meant, and watched her sway slightly. "Tamsin....?" He asked hesitantly. "Did I do something-"

"It's me, Tom." The voice carried none of the passion she'd been feeling just a moment ago, none of the openness she'd carried through their time together here. "God knows, I want this to happen, I really do. But..." A moment passed as she looked out the view in front of them. "...But I don't want this to be like every other time." His heart broke as she looked at him, the pain rooted much deeper in her then he had thought. Had hoped. The very thing that made her so allurring to him, so fascinating, was bubbling to the surface now. The artist in him had seen what the man in him could not; she was still hurting in a way that his rubs, massages could not reach. He saw her tears as she continued.

"I want us to be different. I want to let you in properly and I don't want to ruin it by rushing in like an idiot." Her voice broke, and Tom started to open his mouth...but could think of nothing to say as she continued. "I like you, Tom. Really like you but I'm a fucked up mess. I don't want you to run off like everyone else has."

A quick turn away, and he saw her rubbing the tears on her face. His own lips trembled as he moved closer to her, wanting to hold her, wishing he'd slowed down, seen the signs as they were lost in the moment. A moment he thought was meant to be. But it wasn't. The only thing that would be happening here was more heartbreak.

"Go."

He just sat there, silently. "If you like me, then why are you asking me to go?" Tentatively, he moved closer to her, but only letting her feel his presence behind her; there was no wanton sexuality that had been there moments before, only comfort. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do." Truth be told, he could feel that he still really, really wanted to make love to her, but she wasn't ready. And if she wasn't, neither was he; as his muse, nothing could be forced. And so he tenderly put his arms around Tamsin, letting her lean into him as they simply sat and watched the afternoon go by, soft sobs and small movements still racking her as Tom's own eyes watered at her pain.

What had happened to her? Tom didn't know how long he'd been sitting there for, perched against a wall with her form pressed into him before he felt her lose consciousness into a deep sleep. She'd been here often enough, and would seem to be safe here, so he gently placed her down, still looking at her sadly. There were enough blankets for him to place her on, and to cover her with so she didn't catch cold; they'd been intimate, yet not totally intimate, still secrets hidden from one another, both physically and emotionally. It wasn't as if he didn't want to sleep with her, to enjoy the moment even if it wasn't back breaking sex; it was simply a matter of practicality. He wasn't tired at all.

Even as a part of him wondered if their worlds were too far apart, he worked. Back at his sketch pad, the scratching of his close-to-worn out pencil not even close to matching the sounds of the day leaking into the bunker. Still, he worked quickly, but in a way different from before. Not to break the spell that had been there, but merely to get out of the cloud that darkened the bunker spiritually. Eventually, he finished the sketch; nothing near the quality of the one he'd made of her in the bunker, but just of her, lying down on the floor, its simple title along the bottom of the page.

SLEEPING BEAUTY

A quick, practiced tear as he placed it gently under her boots to keep it from blowing away, next to his other picture. Then, he started a note, which he'd leave hooked on to the door.

Tamsin,

Thank you for sharing this day with me, and so much of yourself. I'm sorry if I pushed you too far; it seems for all of my claims of being different from every other artist out there, I'm just like the rest of them; taking advantage of models. For them, it's the money. For me, it was thinking I could help you just with a few pencil strokes and a massage.

You are so much more then just a pretty face to me. When I saw you last week, I saw something I hadn't had in a long, long time - inspiration. The drive and ambition to do something greater then I'd been doing. But I don't want to take advantage of you for that. If hurting you is the price of me trying to continue being an artist, I won't do it. If this means it's the last time I'll see you, then so be it. I have faith that if we're meant to meet again, to be together in some sort of capacity, that events will conspire to do just that.

You probably wouldn't believe me if I said I loved you. But I love what you are, what I've seen in you, which is why I wanted to draw you. Please believe, if you believe nothing else, that you are someone who deserves to be loved, appreciated, and respected.

Even if it's not by me, I guess.

~Tom


At least now she can't make fun of me for talking too much. He smiled, just for a moment, even as a tear ran down his face as he took her in, sleeping peacefully. He leaned over her to kiss her forehead gently; and satisfied at her not stirring, he quietly grabbed his bag, and his pencil...before seeing his sketchbook.

He didn't mind leaving the pictures. If he never saw her again, it'd probably be less painful if this was a clean break. But as he reached for the sketchbook, he felt a pang of pain; taking and using it now would forever remind him of her. And as he looked at her uncertainly, he really didn't know what she'd do when she woke up.

And Tom couldn't take that chance. For as much pain as she felt, it hurt him that she didn't seem to want him to help her, to be with her to work through all of her suffering. That he'd opened himself up and gotten rejected. From someone who he thought was....another shake of his head. The book was thrown to the floor, next to her clothes as he made his way out of the bunker. As he wondered how exactly he was going to get out of the area, his pain and anger evident, it had never occurred to him that this sketchbook had been his first one. Almost out of paper, which wasn't exactly a huge loss.

But laminated on the inside cover was his name, and his room number. At the time, it had seemed less intrusive on his privacy to put that on there rather then his cell phone. So while he had talked about fate contriving to put them together again, in honest ignorance of what he'd done, he'd pushed fate in a certain direction. The careless placement of his sketchbook would be proof of him having no idea of what he was doing, even as it looked like an open invitation to Tamsin, one he wanted to give and yet felt unable to do with her still hurting so much.

Eventually, he found a way through the locked gate - one he hoped he'd never have to repeat again - and made his way back to his dorm, not really sure what he'd end up doing. Except that it wouldn't be drawing, since that would make him think of her, and her rejection of him, of the gift he had wanted to give her.

It wasn't about the sex. He kept telling himself that. But not entirely convinced.
 
Last edited:
She was back in the launderette, sat on top of the machines and smoking a cigarette. The small room was the same as it was on Friday. The only sound came from the dryer she was using and two machines which were whirring on the other side of the room. There was a single difference however. One wall had been removed and replaced with a view out over the bay and marina. The view from the bunker. Tamsin slowly exhaled a thin stream of smoke and watched it rise up toward the ceiling twisting and turning into impossible shapes as it drifted towards the missing wall and vanished amongst the clouds.

She was dreaming.

A smell of roses and the sound of soft scratching made her turn her head from the view and she saw a figure in the shadows furiously working away on a pad of paper. The room became thick with smoke, no longer being blown out of the small space, and she tried to waft it away with her hands so she could see who she was with.

“Tom?”

The voice was hers but she hadn't moved her mouth. She gingerly dropped off of the dryer and began stumbling across the room, walking into the low benches as she approached the figure. Getting closer she could see them clearer now, the smoke clearing around them. Their face was hidden by the pad she could see.

“Tom?”

Her voice again, bodiless and all around them. Slowly the figure turned the pad around and she saw what had been drawn on it. Tamsin stumbled backwards and fell onto the benches as her legs banged against them. On the pad was a pencil sketch of a face.
The face of a dead man. Tamsin was crying now trying to back away from the unmoving figure but found herself unable to move.

“Please, wake up. Wake up-.”


***

“-now!”

Tamsin woke up with a jerk, sitting bolt upright causing the blankets hat had been covering her to fall to her waist. She was still in the bunker but it was dark outside, moon light spilling into the room. Small pinpoints of light ran along the edge of the bay from the hotels and restaurants. She could see car headlights moving along a road and the occasional house on the side of the hill on the other side of the water. It was cold and a strong breeze blowing into the bunker made her realise she was still knickerless. Throwing the blanket off, she stood and stretched, walking over to where her clothes had been neatly piled. She slipped her panties and shorts back on before picking her boots up. Someone had placed some sheets of paper under them to stop them blowing away on the wind. Picking them up, she rooted around the cool box for another beer before wrapping the blanket around her shoulder and sitting down again on the ledge.

The first page she looked at was the picture Tom had drawn earlier. She looked at it for a second, taking in its details, and smiled.

Tamsin shuffled it to the back of the pile and looked at the next one. It was another picture, one he had obviously drawn after she had fallen asleep. After she had told him to go, Tom had moved up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. She had cried into his biceps for what seemed like hours before nuzzling her head there and falling asleep. Underneath the sketch of her lying peacefully under the blankets was a simple title. Sleeping Beauty. She smiled again, a little broader this time. The third sheet of paper was a note. more of a letter. She sat there for a few minutes reading and rereading it over and over.


Tamsin,

Thank you for sharing this day with me, and so much of yourself. I'm sorry if I pushed you too far; it seems for all of my claims of being different from every other artist out there, I'm just like the rest of them; taking advantage of models. For them, it's the money. For me, it was thinking I could help you just with a few pencil strokes and a massage.

You are so much more then just a pretty face to me. When I saw you last week, I saw something I hadn't had in a long, long time - inspiration. The drive and ambition to do something greater then I'd been doing. But I don't want to take advantage of you for that. If hurting you is the price of me trying to continue being an artist, I won't do it. If this means it's the last time I'll see you, then so be it. I have faith that if we're meant to meet again, to be together in some sort of capacity, that events will conspire to do just that.

You probably wouldn't believe me if I said I loved you. But I love what you are, what I've seen in you, which is why I wanted to draw you. Please believe, if you believe nothing else, that you are someone who deserves to be loved, appreciated, and respected.

Even if it's not by me, I guess.

Tom.



Tamsin finished reading the letter again and sighed before taking a long drink from the can next to her. He was apologising for her behaviour. She was the reason they hadn't done anything, why she had asked him to leave. Not him. She sighed again, annoyed at herself more than anything, and ran her hands through her hair. You’ve royally fucked this one up, Tamsin. She sat there for a long time just staring out at the stars and sea, trying not to think too much about anything. Just taking in the sights. But she couldn't keep what had happened or the dream she had out for very long.

She needed to apologise to Tom. He needed to know how sorry she was for being so blunt with him. For leading him on. He deserved to know why she had acted like she had. Wiping the beginning of tears away from her eyes she stood up and folded up the blanket and slipped her boots on. Heading for the narrow entrance way when she spotted the small pad that Tom had been using. Without much thought, she picked it up and added it to her other stuff in her bag before feeling her way down the dark corridor.
 
So what did someone do when they couldn't do anything?

It was at times like this where Tom almost wished he had a roommate. He'd spurned his friends' offers to go out yesterday, and he was definitely in no mood to do so tonight. A part of him wondered if he should go back to the library and try to finish what he'd intended to start today, but it was still too close; going there would bring back memories of her and how close they'd gotten. He definitely couldn't draw. And as much as a part of him just wanted to get drunk and forget about things for a little while, it was still only mid afternoon, and he wasn't a heavy drinker even at the worst of times. With a wistful sigh, Tom realized he really had only one option.

The one he'd passed up when she'd been so close to him, strangely enough. With some reluctance, he flopped down onto his bed; being a student, it had never really been hard for him to fall asleep when he needed to, although he still tossed and turned for a bit in his fairly well lit room. But that didn't turn out to be a good idea, either. Even if it was probably the least destructive of the three.

*******************

In his dream, he was drawing. It wasn't as if he'd had a dream like this before. But it was different this time.

This was the first time it was getting erased as he was doing it. He'd get most of a shape in to start something - a house, a car, classroom, whatever - and before he finished it, some invisible force would start erasing it. Frustratingly, he tried everything he could think of, but no matter what he did, he could never get anything started. Then, his mind clicked. Why not paint instead? That would work, he reasoned, because you couldn't erase paint. That was the way your brain worked in dreams, making somewhat illogical conclusions to illogical problems.

His easel and brush were close by, along with his paints, and he started a landscape. Again, as soon as he was about to switch colors, something started to take everything away from the board, leaving his sheet fresh, and clean. He kept at it, snarling at the invisible force before he just grabbed his paints and tossed them onto the easel. "Erase that, you peace of-"

Strangely enough, after the splatter of several different colors on his paper, they just stayed there, as if waiting for applause. Tentatively, he dabbed at it with his brush; maybe he could throw together something abstract. A second later, as soon as he started creating the shape, the color disappeared.

"What the hell..." He muttered. "it's not as if I really want to draw anymore anyways."


THAT'S THE POINT.

He wasn't sure who or what said that to him, nor did he have time to dwell on it, because-

*************

Tom woke up with a bit of a start. Not that he leapt out of bed or anything, that had never been his style. No matter how scary his dreams had been, he always found himself waking up the same way he always did; slowly pulling himself up, squeezing his eyes. He didn't know what time it was, since that wasn't the first thing on his mind.

What was on his mind was that someone was knocking on his door. As he slowly ambled over to it, still dressed in the same clothes he'd been in during the morning, he could hear a distinctly male voice outside of it. As good as it was to have his own dorm room, occasionally Tom did wish the walls were a bit thicker.

"Come on, babe, you don't want to waste your time with someone who won't even answer. I can show you a good time..."

So whoever it was had been there a while. Making only a moderate effort to fix his unkempt appearance, Tom rubbed his eyes and decided to see who it was outside of it.
 
It wasn't until much later that evening, around 9pm, that Tamsin first looked at the pad Tom had left behind at the bunker. She was back at her messy dorm room and was clearing space on her desk for the two pictures he had drawn for her when she remember she had picked it up in her way out. Wondering whether there were any other drawings in it, she flicked through absent-mindedly. There were a few blank pages, a couple of landscapes that weren't that inspiring and one or two naked portraits of a large breasted girl with dark hair. Tamsin frowned and instinctively looked down at her own chest which didn't fare well in a direct comparison of size. Flicking over to the opening page, she saw on the back of the cover two lines of hand written text.

Thomas Weitz.
Room 3.9, Block 17.


She smiled, beginning to think that he had left it behind on purpose for her to find, and put it back into her bag. The block in question was only a five minute walk away so she decided to take it over that evening. {i]Might have to change first though.[/i] Her clothes were all covered with a thin layer of cement dust from the floor of the bunker and a chill had taken to the night air. Hardly the weather for shorts. She pulled of her shorts and replaced them with the pair of jeans that were hanging over the back of her desk chair. The sweater quickly followed, the static created from pulling it over her head causing her hair to rise up into the air. She stood for a minute looking at her naked breasts in the mirror and thinking about Tom's hands squeezing them softly back in the bunker. Shaking her head, she moved her thoughts back to her cluttered wardrobe trying to find something to wear. She decided on a simple, black t-shirt which had a low, scooped neckline and deep cut armholes which showed of a lot of side boob. Debating with herself internally for a second, she decided to wear a matching black bikini top underneath. That's not why I'm going over.

Making sure she had everything she need, Tamsin headed for the door and grabbed her leather jacket. Outside, it had gotten really cold, really quickly. Where the sun had been shining brightly during the afternoon, a fog had descending over the city and the campus was shrouded in mist. Tamsin closed her jacket against the cold, grateful for its warm lining and for her decision to wear jeans instead of her shorts. It was perishingly cold. Soon she was standing outside of block 17, Tom's block, and she glanced at the back of her hand where she had written the number of his room in marker pen.

Room 3.9. Floor 3, Room 9.

Pushing through the door she head towards the elevator. To her disappointment it was out of order so she was forced to climb up the three flights of stairs to the third floor. Haven't I climbed enough stairs today already? Reaching the top, Tamsin turned to the right and started counting off room numbers. Six, seven, eight, nine. She froze outside the door to room number nine, Tom's room, hesitating. Eventually she knocked. A gentle, polite knock at first but one that got harder and louder with each time he didn't answer.

After a few knocks, the door behind her opened and a guy wearing only a pair of board shorts stepped out.

"Hey girl, help you?" His cut chest and ripped abs took a step towards her. She didn't flinch.

"I was wondering whether Tom was in?"

Abs guy looked over her shoulder towards Tom's door and stepped further out into the corridor walking around Tamsin so he was between her and Tom's door.

"Room 9? Nah, I don't know." He was only a few inches away from her now, bearing down on her and forcing her to take a step back so she was up against the wall. "You can always wait for him in my room."

His arms were either side of her head now, bracing himself against the wall and trapping her there. She had to admit to herself she was nervous but she took a deep breath and decided to fight fire with fire. Tamsin took her own arms and wrapped them around Abs' neck drawing her face closer to his.

"What would Tom say when he found out I had been waiting in the room of a big, strong hunk like you? He's the jealous sort." She said coyly, a look of mock innocence on her face.

"Come on, babe, you don't want to waste your time with someone who won't even answer. I can show you a good time." He started kissing her neck, burying his face in her hair so he didn't see it when Tom finally opened his door. Tamsin did and winked at him over Abs' shoulder before jamming her knee between his legs causing him to collapse at her feet. Casually stepping over his prone form, she walked past Tom and entered his room.

"You left your pad." Was all she said as she breezed past him.
 
Since Tom had no real expectations upon opening his door - not only was he not expecting anyone but he didn't get many uninvited guests - he was more then a little surprised at what he saw. It was Mike, from across the hall, or at least the back of him, clearly making out with someone who he'd pressed against the wall. It also appeared he'd been...um, ready for it, judging by the fact he was only wearing a pair of shorts, revealing a physique that had intimidated Tom more then once when he'd talked to him. The mystery of who'd been knocking on his door (since it clearly hadn't been Mike) revealed itself when he saw who he was 'making out' with, his face buried in her neck and hair as she winked at him over his shoulder.

Tom's mouth gaped open in shock, not to say anything as she tensed up, kneeing Mike in an area Tom was fairly certain he didn't want to experience himself, and he crumpled to the ground as she walked over him as if he'd been lying there the entire time, moaning in pain. For her part, Tamsin seemed to have her old swagger back, as if it had always been a part of her and not a front she put up just to keep people out. "You left your pad." She said idly, handing it back to him as she made her way into his room. Tom put it on the counter as he watched her take in his flat.

His bed sat on one side of the small area, next to a minmal kitchen and fridge area, drabbed in a dirty yellow color. To the left was his bathroom and 'closet', with some drab green carpeting as floor. In a corner, sat a large, folded white blanket, which he threw over the floor whenever he painted.

A smaller blanket still remained sitting over the coffee table he'd drafted into being a place for his paints to sit, the small containers all closed. Also on the table sat the piece he'd been working on most recently; a close up of a lion with no background. Leaned against the dark blue wall was his canvas, which sat on a stand which was currently folded up. He had no television, only a small computer desk with his currently idle laptop with several sketches placed haphazardly around it). Along the dividing wall next to the kitchen sat a small blue couch who's best years were behind it. A few of his earlier paintings had been hung along his wall with no frames. There was even one with a grade still stamped to it; a landscape of a place that didn't exist. There was also a black and white depiction of the grand canyon, the two pictures flanking portrait he'd done of his sister. Next to the window, a picture of an eagle.

Tom watched her walk in, looking around, and he fell into a role that would keep from thinking about the awkward conversation to come. "I'm...surprised you're here." And happy. "Can I get you anything? I can make tea or coffee." He started as he went for his fridge. "And beer, or...." A frown lit his face. "...water, I guess." Whatever she said, he knew he'd be cracking open a beer, and he obliged her request as he continued talking. It occurred to him now that if he hadn't...if they hadn't...done whatever it was they did earlier, that he probably would've thought to get groceries.

"Have a seat." It didn't occur to Tom that he didn't specify where as he grabbed his beer, opening it and taking a quick sip as he moved to sit next to her, seeing her gaze following his to a certain picture. "That's my sister." He nodded at it. "It was apparently the piece that got me my scholarship." The silence seemed to fall like a pin as he took another slow sip of his drink, trying not to look at her as he wondered about what to say.

He wanted to speak up, but as always, Tamsin seemed to beat him to it.
 
Tom's reaction had been priceless. Not only was his face a picture when he realised his neighbour was making out with her but his jaw practically dislocated itself when she had kneed him in his balls. She had breezed past him with an air of nonchalance and he took the pad without too much thought for the action, as if he was running on automatic. Tamsin took a good look around his flat, for flat is was. Unlike her small room which barely had enough room for a bed and a desk, Tom's was an entirely self contained living space. There was a kitchen area, an ensuite bathroom with a properly enclosed shower unit and even coffee tables. Someone must be paying a fortune for this. Her little box was costing her thousands each semester and the wet room which housed her shower didn't even have a door. He's got a fucking couch. To say she was a little envious was an understatement.

It could so easily have been a drab, boring room if it hadn't have been for the large number of canvases that were scattered around the room. Some were hanging on the wall whilst others lay unfinished propped up against the furniture or attached to an easel.

"I'm...surprised you're here. Can I get you anything?"

He had closed the door behind them ignoring his neighbour who was trying desperately to pull himself up against the wall and groaning loudly. His breathless cursing was cut off by the heavy fire door and all was quiet in the room except for Tom's polite gestures. Tamsin was still taking in the room's decoration and drifted towards a large portrait of a pretty girl.

"Have a seat."

"Nothing for me, thanks. She said as she lowered herself so she was sat on the edge of his bed. She didn't mean to suggest anything sexual to him. It was just an instinctive response. In her room, and the few rooms of other people who she had visited, beds were the only option for sitting. She wasn't used to the wealth of options that Tom's studio offered her. He sat down next to her, can of beer in hand, and followed her gaze to the picture of the pretty girl that Tamsin was staring at.

"That's my sister. It was apparently the piece that got me my scholarship."

"It's very good. She's very pretty. Looks like you a bit."

The pair of them sat there for a minute or so in silence. The soft groaning of Abs Guy could still be softly heard outside in the corridor for a few seconds until there was the loud banging of a door being slammed shut in frustration. The awkwardness grew in those moments, the silent air pressing down on both of them, pressuring them to speak. Neither of them looked at one another, both deciding to focus on Tom's sister hanging on the wall. It was Tamsin who managed to break the silence first.

"Look, Tom. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for earlier." She turned and looked at him next to her. "I shouldn't have told you to go. It's...It's just that I was...Oh, I don't know. Scared, I guess I was scared."

Tom tried to comfort her, soothe her almost.

"No, you didn't pressure me or force me into anything." Tamsin shot him an angry glance at him. "I meant what I said when I said I wanted something to happen. I just don't think I'm quite ready for it yet."

Tamsin stood up and walked over to the window. This would be so much easier if you weren't sat right next to me breathing down my bloody neck. But she wanted to explain to him. She owed him as much for putting up with her behaviour. He deserved an explanation.

"I avoid proper relationships like the plague. I was in one once and it ended badly so I gave up on them afterwards. But I still had...urges, you know? So I've been having one night stands and stuff since. One off stuff, nothing serious."

There was a couple sat on the grass outside Tom's window. The guy was sat with his back against a tree and the girl was sat between his laps, her back against his chest. He was hugging her as she dozed off.

"I don't like the person that choice has made me Tom. I want to change. But I'm afraid I can't. Afraid that no matter what I do or who I do it with, I'll always be a fuck up who people end up hating."
 
They looked away, averting their gazes before Tamsin broke the silence. "Look, Tom. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for earlier." She finally looked at him, and he at her as she continued. "I shouldn't have told you to go. It's...It's just that I was...Oh, I don't know. Scared, I guess I was scared."

Tom looked her over, in a different way then he'd had earlier She was dressed more for practicality then comfort, and he could appreciate that. Her shirt was teasing, her jeans form fitting, and he'd caught a glimpse of what she wore under it. It made sense, even if consciously he knew he was at least partially disappointed she wasn't being as bold or as brave as she'd been before. A sigh blew from his lips. "I'm an artist, Tamsin. That means that, occasionally, I get caught up in the moment instead of looking at things rationally." A slight, bitter smirk lit his lips. "I could say it seemed like you were enjoying it...but then I'd be no better then the hundreds of guys on campus who could probably get accused of sexual assault every year." He looked at her. "I didn't think I was forcing you..."

"No, you didn't pressure me or force me into anything." She looked back at him angrily. "I meant what I said when I said I wanted something to happen. I just don't think I'm quite ready for it yet." As Tom looked down, trying to compose himself at her outburst, she got up and walked over to the window, and he looked at her again, like had before. As if he didn't know her.

And even with as much of her as he'd captured in the bunker, he could see there was so much more to the pain that showed in her eyes, the way she carried herself. Tom stood up himself, slowly, not going with her but still looking at her with a determined look. "Talk to me, then. What is it that's scaring you so much?" Definitely not what was scaring him, in what he thought of as his small, little sanctuary. In a way, he envied Tasmin for her private place more then his.

"I avoid proper relationships like the plague. I was in one once and it ended badly so I gave up on them afterwards. But I still had...urges, you know? So I've been having one night stands and stuff since. One off stuff, nothing serious."

Tom nodded. It wasn't him, but he'd seen people like that - knew people like that. Tamsin was just one more on his list at this point. It was what this kind of life encouraged; many people out on their own for the first time tried to indulge it, and either carried on with it, or simply learned to do differently. Tom had fallen into the latter category, now a veteran of the post secondary lifestyle. He didn't judge anyone who did; being an artist meant indulging all manner of eclectic people. Tom let the silence linger, in order for both of them to form their thoughts, even if he'd admit it was more for him then her. Tamsin was here to say her piece, but he had mere minutes, or seconds, to respond to it.

"I don't like the person that choice has made me Tom. I want to change. But I'm afraid I can't. Afraid that no matter what I do or who I do it with, I'll always be a fuck up who people end up hating."

Gingerly he stepped forward, moving behind her although he dared not let their bodies touch, lest he bring up memories of what they'd done earlier, too painful for her...and too much longing for him. Tom knew himself well enough that he wasn't some hormone driven maniac, as if the encounter with his 'friend' two nights ago had not been full proof of that. Artists didn't always have girls throwing themselves at them, begging to 'model' for one of their pictures. The fact that he had in that instance was precisely because he didn't indulge those potential abuses of power; as erotic and as compelling as a picture could be, Tom always tried to see past it to make sure he always created art with pure intentions. Even the encounter with Tamsin had been with purity in mind; she inspired him, and he wanted to give something special back to her, in line with what she'd given to him: hope.

But looking at her now, he saw that she needed it more then he did. "You're not a fuckup, Tamsin. The past...is the past." He placed a hand on her shoulder, careful to try to avoid lingering her skin (which was hard with her scoop neck). "I never hated you.....and I don't hate you now." Now it was his turn to look away, finding brief solace in one of his pictures as his hand left her shoulder. "I'm confused, sure, but that doesn't have as much to do with your...sending me away as it does..." He looked down, his hand fidgeting in front of him briefly as he tried to compose his thoughts.

"....did you know that portrait of you in the bunker was the first one I've been able to finish in a week?" He looked back guiltily to her. "From start to finish, anyways." Another dart of his head in the other direction. "You're the only thing that's managed to inspire me, to make me dream in that time." He looked back at her. "Ever since I saw you in the laundromat." A tentative step forward, back to her, his hands still moving as if he wanted to put a brush in them. "I don't know what it means for how I feel about you. But I...desperately want to get to know you better." Tom looked down briefly. "I didn't want to let any opportunity go. Which is why things ended like they did in the bunker. I thought I might never see you again and I wanted to bring you joy while I still could, for bringing some to me." It wasn't as if he hadn't enjoyed it, either.
 
Taamsin was fighting every urge her body was throwing her way. She wanted to run away so badly, to go back to her room , lock the doer and not come out for a week. She wanted to hide under her bed covers and drink herself into a stupor just so she didn't have to face the questions this encounter was raising. Questions about herself which she did not want to answer. Instead, she bit down on her jaw and crossed her arms across her chest, hugging herself and continued watching the pair of lovers sat by the tree outside. She wanted what they had and was a little jealous. It hurt to watch them together but Tamsin couldn't tear her eyes away. She wanted love but she was scared it wouldn't want her.

Tom had stood up behind her, the bed springs had squeaked as he levered himself up, and she could feel him behind her. A tentative hand touched her gently on the shoulder. It was a kind hand, if a little unsure of itself, and Tamsin allowed it to reassure her a little. I want this but I'm afraid. I've got to give it a chance though.

"You're not a fuckup, Tamsin. The past...is the past." His voice was soft and she found herself grateful they were in his room and she couldn't tell him to leave if things got too uncomfortable for her.

Tom was clearly nervous. The words he spoke were kind words and ones that would have made Tamsin weary if they were coming from the mouth of any other person. With others, she would have thought they were after something, usually her body, but with Tom she thought he genuinely meant what he was saying. He really did think she wasn't a fuck up and didn't hate her very being.

"You're the only thing that's managed to inspire me, to make me dream in that time." His eyes were nervously jumping around the room and he was having difficulty focusing on anything for more than a few seconds. Finally his eyes fell on Tamsin again.

"Ever since I saw you in the laundromat."

He was so different to anyone Tamsin had ever met for a very long time. He didn't seem interested in her for just sex. He wanted to know about her and what made her tick, what had made her she was in that moment. She wanted to point out to him that from what he was saying, he only wanted to know her so he could draw her and get a good grade. But she decided against and instead bit down harder on her jaw again. Attributing his interest and kindness towards her to purely selfish motives would have been what the old Tamsin would have done and it would have ended badly for the both of them. She didn't want that to happen. She wanted to get to know him better, to slowly let him into her life so they could go back to that moment between them in the bunker and move on to what both of them had wanted to happen next.

Tom was apologising again, standing between her and the window now, explaining his actions back at the bunker.

"I didn't want to let any opportunity go. Which is why things ended like they did in the bunker. I thought I might never see you again and I wanted to bring you joy while I still could, for bringing some to me."

Tamsin hadn't spoken since Tom had started his monologue. She had just stared out of the window focusing her attention on the couple by the tree. When Tom had stepped between them, she had tried her hardest to avoid direct eye contact with him, choosing instead to look at her boots. He had come to the end it seemed and he stood there, dumbly, waiting for her to say something.

"You dumb ass." His face fell and his mouth hung open in surprise like it had done in the corridor when she kicked Abs Guy.

"Did you really think that I would stop talking to you after I had shown you the bunker? After that I was either going to stick around or kill you. I was planning on sticking around but I'm having second thoughts now."

She looked up at him now, her confidence returning, and looked him square in the eyes. Stepping forward she closed the distance between them and took both of his hands in hers, her thumbs resting in his palms. She squeezed gently, almost with affection.

"Look, Tom. I really want to give this a shot, whatever this is. I just need to move at my own speed. There are things I need to work through before we can get to...you know."

She looked down sheepishly at her shoes again at the suggestion of sex but quickly regained her composure and her gaze.

"I want you to help me through it, Tom."

She leaned in and placed a small, delicate kiss on his cheek. Her lips brushing his skin and staying there for a moment before moving away again and waiting.
 
"You dumb ass." His look of shock was something resembling the one he'd had earlier when she'd dealt with Mike. Also like the one he'd worn in the laundromat after her first question to him, Tom figured.
"Did you really think that I would stop talking to you after I had shown you the bunker? After that I was either going to stick around or kill you. I was planning on sticking around but I'm having second thoughts now."

As she looked at him, Tom attempted to measure if she was being sarcastic or serious. She had joked about being a serial killer, and while it didn't look like she had any plans of that now, he decided to sway towards sarcasm. "Well, I did have no way of contacting you..." He began slowly. "...and you did mention how you weren't a serial killer so..." Tom let the moment pass, his expression growing serious. "You're a hard person to figure out, Tamsin Walker." A soft, tentative smile as she walked towards him, quickly narrowing the gap until she took her hands in his, giving them a warm, soft squeeze.

"Look, Tom. I really want to give this a shot, whatever this is. I just need to move at my own speed. There are things I need to work through before we can get to...you know." Amazingly, she almost looked embarrassed at the suggestion of something she'd blurted out casually during their first encounter, as if she was fully realizing the actual prospect of it now, visualizing it in her head. But the say she'd talked, Tom understood it, even shared it. Her other encounters had been casual, throwaways with people she didn't want to remember. She wanted their first time to be special, memorable, and right. Tom understood as well as anyone the danger of letting passion rule you, as people of many stripes - not just artists - had gone mad to simply giving in to their baser urges. Like they had almost done earlier...

"I want you to help me through it, Tom." With a quick movement in, Tamsin kissed his cheek, lingering there for a moment as Tom enjoyed the sensation, and the wetness she left behind. His quick, soft smile was the only reaction she got at first, until Tom slipped his hand out of her grasp, running it gently down her cheek.

"Yeah." His voice was almost soft enough to be a whisper, but Tom made sure she could hear it. "I won't pretend to be anything I'm not, Tamsin. I don't know what the hell this is either. I wish I could tell why certain things drive me and others don't. But I know well enough that not every beautiful thing I see pushes me to heights like this - and certainly not every pretty girl I see." He hoped to not every have to relate the encounter of what had happened on his 'date' on Thursday night. As Tom's hand fell from her cheek, he hoped to take assurance from the fact that he didn't need to be touching her all of the time. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy it, but to feel secure enough to not need to reassured him that this was, in fact, happening. "I just know there's something different about you...something special. And I want to find out what that is."

"If anything, not...." He sighed, deciding to take a page out of her book. "Whatever physical boundaries you want to set is fine by me. If anything, the liberalization of sexual norms at our age has really warped the expectations of what two people coming together really means. I know I'm the last person who should be complaining about this, but why is it when a man and a woman get together that it's expected that..." He saw her looking at him in a certain way, or at least felt it, and smiled. "Sorry. I talk too much, I know. Long story short, I don't have any expectations from you other then honesty."

In something resembling a theatrical gesture, the hand he had still clasping hers pulled her hand up as he kissed the back of it in what he'd been told was a gentlemanly gesture. "I do still think I like you, though. Just so you know..." A small, mischievous smile lit his face, even as he wondered what the hell they were going to do now. Not in the next few days, of course, as it was becoming clear they'd need to spend a lot more time together. But right at this moment, seeing as it was very late in the evening and there wasn't a lot to do in his room at the moment...
 
The kiss had lingered for a moment on his cheek. Tamsin pulled back and look at Tom's face again as she had done before. It took a few seconds but eventually a small smile crept onto his lips. She was surprised when he took one of his hands out of hers and placed it tenderly against her cheek, cupping it. It was her turn to smile now as she nestled her head in his hand allowing its warmth to spread through her. It felt good, comforting and reassuring to have him touch her in such a loving way and she found her eyes closing involuntarily as she nuzzled against him.

"Yeah." His voice was so soft and quiet that if there had been anyone else in the room, Tamsin doubted they would have heard what he had said. His face was close to hers, their noses only a few centimetres apart.

"I won't pretend to be anything I'm not, Tamsin. I don't know what the hell this is either. I wish I could tell why certain things drive me and others don't. But I know well enough that not every beautiful thing I see pushes me to heights like this - and certainly not every pretty girl I see."

He let his hand drop, the tips of his fingers hanging on for an extra second as if they didn't want to leave their embrace with her face. Tamsin felt herself leaning forward, trying to chase his hand with her face, trying to make it last just a few more seconds. She had felt safe whilst it had been there, as if nothing bad could ever have happened to her so long as Tom was holding her. Slowly, she open her eyes, a flash of disappointment in them, and gazed down sheepishly at her boots again, a shyness returning to her demeanour. She wasn't sure what to say next, unsure of what their next step should be but her thoughts were interrupted by Tom speaking again.

"Whatever physical boundaries you want to set is fine by me. If anything, the liberalization of sexual norms at our age has really warped the expectations of what two people coming together really means. I know I'm the last person who shou-"

Tamsin had never met anyone who spoke so much. He had mentioned earlier that it was a nerves thing. It was pretty much the opposite reaction she had when she was feeling nervous or unsure of herself. She would shut her mouth tight and try to avoid conversation at all costs. Everyone's different I guess. She didn't want to interrupt him mid-flow but equally she didn't want him to carry on much longer, she had already stopped listening properly. A look must have passed over her face without her realising because he suddenly stopped mid-sentence and apologised for talking too much.

He pulled the hand she was still using to hold his and pulled it up to his lips, planting a small, apologetic kiss on the back of it.

"I do still think I like you, though. Just so you know..."

Tamsin didn't know what she wanted to do next. They had come to a point in their relationship, if you could call it that, where they were on equal footing and both of them knew where things were heading. It was just she was unsure how to take that first step. It was dark outside now, the cover of night time had fallen quickly whilst they had been talking and Tamsin noticed that the couple outside by the tree had gone. On any other night, she would just be waking up and starting whatever work she had to do but tonight was different. She had just started a relationship with another person. Kind of. This wasn't a day to do things according to her routine, today was an opportunity to try something different. But what? Not sex. Too much, too soon. Baby steps, Tamsin, Baby steps.

They were still holding hands by the window and she squeezed them gently as she looked up at him again.

"It's getting late..." A disappointed look came over Tom's face.

"...Could I stay over?" She waited for his reply.

"It's too soon for sex but maybe we could just cuddle and make out a bit. If that's OK with you, of course."
 
A moment passed as they stood together by the window, a look of concentration on her face. She was much more comfortable with silence them Tom was, and he allowed her this indulgence by not saying a word, letting her collect her thoughts. She was obviously thinking about what to do next, maybe for the immediate moment and afterwards. Tom couldn't blame her for it; she was probably pondering things he was thinking about himself. The thought of that comforted him as she finally spoke.

"It's getting late..." He sighed, trying to keep most of the disappointment out of his expression and his body language. Tom had expected that once she'd walked in and said what she needed to. And he understood. She just wanted to say her piece, let him know what she was thinking, how she was feeling, and then let them both collect themselves for a while. He couldn't blame her. Even as he wanted to extend the moment longer, to start the process now of deepening the relationship, of building it solidly instead of letting passion and instinct rule it. It was the artists' dream, to live on passion, but Tom had seen what that could do to people. Even as he longed to become great, he never wanted to be ruled by it, only to use it when it suited him.

"...Could I stay over?"

He tried to hide the look of shock on his face. She had just talked about not wanting to push things too far and here she was essentially making things about as close as they could without breaking the barrier that she had wanted to keep until she was ready. Tom knew Tamsin wasn't some nervous virgin keeping herself for marriage, she was someone trying to rebuild herself in a way she'd be happy with. Still, he had his doubts, not about her.

"It's too soon for sex but maybe we could just cuddle and make out a bit. If that's OK with you, of course."

His only reply was to smile, taking her hand and leading her to the couch. Not to the bed, even with as ragged as his couch was, the bed suggested something else entirely. It wasn't as if he hadn't done it on a couch before...or even this one...but he wasn't about to push things that far this quickly. And neither did he want to start anything standing up; that was what lovers did when they intended to entangle themselves on the bed wearing significantly less. And as much as a part of him longed for her, ached for continuing what they had earlier, Tom would force himself to either abide by her wishes, one way or the other.

Tom faced her on the couch, his mind racing as he leaned into kiss her lips. With everything they'd done, that wasn't something they'd managed to indulge in yet; the primal, natural instincts of what they'd done in the bunker contrasted to now, which was his controlled, smoother side. And he found himself thinking. Not because he wasn't interested in her reaction as his hand went to just below her ear, slowly sliding tenderly down to her cheek and jawline; it was quite the opposite. But Tom had put all of his effort earlier into pleasuring her, and he knew now that if he did that, they'd get back to the place they'd been at before. His only focus could not be making her squirm, making her long for his touch. This was just about exploring, and finding, and he felt her neck and bare shoulder under his touch, sliding gingerly to her shirt. He pushed it slightly away involuntarily, but released it before it got to her arm.

She had to stay clothed. Tom wanted to see more of her, and as his lips pressed into hers, his other hand just held hers, to feel her reactions. To see if she was tensing, or giving herself into the moment. Her lips tasted sweet, and soft, two things he would not have associated with her some time ago. It wasn't as if all women were that way; each had their own quirks and attributes. And as he pulled away from her, only for a moment to see her eyes, Tom was sure he'd enjoy finding out about hers.

It was then their lips met again, and he wasn't sure if it was him or her who had initiated their kiss again. Tom fought the competing urges to push her down on the couch, or to let himself be pushed down, not wanting to test the walls they'd built so quickly. Maybe she'd feel differently. Tom wasn't sure, but he knew he'd find out.
 
They had ended up sitting down on the threadbare blue coach that was butted up against the small wall by the kitchen. It was hardly the nicest or most comfortable couch in the world but Tamsin didn't care and if Tom cared, he wasn't showing any sign of it. The seating arrangements were low down on their list of priorities at that moment however. Sitting facing one another, the two of them were in a deep embrace, their lips locked onto the others in their first kiss. The room was silent except for the soft, wet sounds of passion and the occasional moan from one of them.

They had started awkwardly, like two teens making out for the first time. Sat bolt upright on the couch, they had tentatively brushed their lips together. Tamsin was unsure whether to push for more and decided to push her tongue past Tom's lips and tease his. I'll go at a speed I'm happy with. It's just kissing, Tamsin. As soon as her tongue had raked across his teeth, sending a jolt of pleasure through her body, the pair of them began relaxing into their embrace and they sank deeper into the blue covers of the couch.

Tom's hand had gone to the side of her face and was gently feeling down the side of her bare neck. His touch made the hairs on her nape stand on end and again she found herself softly nuzzling her cheek into his palm. Soft fingertips traced lines down to her shoulders and she felt the material of her shirt pushed to one side. Not undressing her, just exposing a bit of flesh to feel with his hands, exploring her skin. Her hands too were exploring. One was lost deep within Tom's hair, thick strands of it wrapped around her fingers as she pulled him into her, holding his head in place and locking their lips together. The other was resting on his pecs and slowly rubbing the area around one nipple through his t-shirt. She wanted to go lower and further but restrained herself. Not tonight.

Perhaps he sensed her conflicted thoughts because as soon as she had chastised herself mentally, Tom reached down with his free hand and took hold of the one softly massaging his chest. He squeezed it and she took it as a sign of reassurance, that he was here for her and that this was her kiss. She squeezed back and they pulled aprt for a second, looking at one another in silence. The first step was over and she had enjoyed it. Tom's lips were soft and his hands had caressed her tenderly. Before she knew what she was doing, Tamsin found herself leaning forward and starting a second kiss, this time slower and more passionate. Tongues changed mouths and hands played with hair.

It was Tamsin who broke their joining a few minutes later. With one hand, she cupped his cheek like he had done to her earlier, feeling the warm flush of his skin on her palm. She smiled. I'm happy. Right now, I'm happy.

"Can we bring the duvet down onto the floor? Make a bed on the floor with some blankets?"

Tamsin though that if they migrated across the room to the bed that it might signal to Tom that she was willing to go further. Likewise, staying on the couch might give the same impression. After all, she had slept with guys in far less comfortable places before. The floor was a compromise but one she thought they could make special together. Just the two of them.

Before long they were kissing again, on the floor and under the covers this time, their bodies entwined but still clothed. How long they spent that night, kissing and exploring each others faces with their fingers, they didn't know but they fell asleep spooning with Tamsin's hands holding Tom's as he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly to his body.


* * *​


"Here's my mobile number, so you don't have to keep hanging around launderettes waiting for me to run out of clean clothes."

They were stood in the hallway outside of Tom's room. Still dressed in the same clothes she had worn the previous day. They were holding each others hands again and Tamsin was trying to think of what to say next. How am I supposed to say goodbye? Just goodbye seems inadequate. Behind her a door opened and Abs Guy stumbled out of his room, half naked again, and made a show of looking for his keys. Tamsin glanced round for a second and then returned her gaze to Tom. She leaned in and gave him a kiss, her lips pressing hard against his, her tongue running over his teeth.

"When will I see you again?" She asked.

She waited while he replied before giving his hands one last squeeze.

"Thank you."

Tamsin took a step away, releasing one hand from his grip but letting the other linger for a moment longer before the distance became to great and they were forced apart. Reaching the stairs, she took one last look back at Tom standing in his doorway, and Abs Guy behind him, and waved goodbye before descending the flight of steps.
 
It was bliss, and it was torture. Feeling her hands on his body, exploring him like he was her, still tentative, knowing the boundaries she didn't want to push. Still, her grip on his hair was tight but not with the strength of someone lost in passion; something he knew he wanted to feel in her some day, and not just see. Her other was behind his head, keeping him pressed to her, their lips meeting and merging; his tongue meeting her mouth, and then her tongue as they dueled. For a moment, he felt her tense as she wanted to explore lower on him, a comfort flowing through him when she stopped, keeping her word.

It wasn't that he didn't want to. But he didn't want to her to do anything uneasy for her, and her hand simply made a circle on his chest. He took her hand, a brief break between them before their lips met again, and it was his turn to stroke her hair lovingly. Tom refused to squeeze or grab it; much like his hands, as much as they were traveling up and down her stomach, refused to go under her clothes, and staying away from bare skin as much as practical; they *were* making out, after all...

"Can we bring the duvet down onto the floor? Make a bed on the floor with some blankets?"

She smiled at him as she said it, and for the first time, Tom felt like she actually meant it. Not created by anything he did, or forced to satisfy anyone, this was from her being, her essence. He wanted to frame it, keep it, to draw it...

After they made their bed on the floor. One they didn't have to do anything they didn't want to it, and before long they were on each other again; her on top of him this time. The night was lost in a haze of subtle sensations, of grazing finger tips, wet lips, and the slightest of gasps, ending with him holding her against him. When they fell asleep again, it was not out of fatigue, but out of contentment. Hers of seemingly being accepted for what she was, and his at finally finding something worth learning about, exploring...worth yearning for.

He would wait for her. And Tom would ensure that her wait was worth it...

* * *


"Here's my mobile number, so you don't have to keep hanging around launderettes waiting for me to run out of clean clothes."

Somehow, Tom looked better then he had the last evening after rolling out of bed to meet her. He felt better then he had in weeks, and not just because of the company across from him. Tamsin seemed to glow, even as they input each other's numbers in their phones, a dull task made better only by the fact they were both doing it. No more relying on chance, on fate pulling them together. Now, they would set the terms of their next meeting. As if by some unseen force, their hands were together again; Tom wasn't entirely sure he'd let her go. The moment lingered, neither one really wanting to leave even as they knew they had to in order to return to their own lives, as if to confirm that the previous day had not been a dream.

As if on cue, the door across from him opened, and a somewhat weary Mike stumbled out. So much for the dream moment... For her part, Tamsin looked around before leaning in for a quick, but still lingering kiss, and he let the sensations of her tongue running over his teeth run through him.

"When will I see you again?"

"Any time you want." he whispered, leaning in to breath on her ear, an open invitation that was not entirely untrue in its breadth. But she wanted something more specific, and truth be told, so did he. "If you're free Monday night I'll take you to an art gallery or something...not one of those stuffy ones." Tom had a feeling Tamsin wouldn't enjoy a 'normal' date persay, but he did want to see her in a more public environment. As isolated as she seemed to be, and as secluded as he could get when he was lost in his art, they would need to let their budding relationship breathe. "If nothing else, it'll keep me quiet for an hour or two." For once, that was a joke he felt comfortable making around her.

Another moment passed before she spoke again."Thank you." She stepped away, one handgrip falling freely, the other lingering until she was as far away as she could before finally letting go, walking away before giving him one last longing, loving look from the stairwell, along with a wave.

Tom just smiled back. Anyone who saw him would see the difference.

*****************

He waited, blanket slung over his shoulder as he looked from left to right. Tom wasn't sure if it was out of nervousness, or out of the evening air getting a little chillier, and decided it was both. They'd met a few more times so far, and their activities had been a little eclectic so far. It wasn't as if Tom needed to do normal activities on dates; it was just that most of his not-normal activities involved art, and he had no desire to draw her again. Well, for her to model for him, anyways. Tom *had* drawn her several times over the last little while, even if she'd never been modelling for him. It still brought up wounds too close for him to bear. When she was ready, he might ask her to do it again, but for the moment he wanted to continue to enjoy their relationship as a couple, and not as someone finding his muse. His drawing had been getting better, and his teachers had noticed.

He saw her, and Tom's face grew into the contented look that had become his norm when he was around her. "Tamsin." He smiled. No 'hunny', no 'babe', and no other pet names. She was special, and worth recognizing as such.

Plus, he hadn't found one that fit yet. He leaned in to kiss her on the lips, sneaking in a small bite of her lip just for a second, to tease her before he revealed his plan for the evening. He was dressed simply, in black jeans, a white shirt, and the blue jacket that he took out on nights like this.

With a grand gesture, he motioned towards the park. "Some of the drama students are putting on a production of a Midsummer Night's Dream." in the distance, the sight of some hastily set up speakers, a stage, and some students who had already gathered, sitting on blankets or chairs set up in the grass was clearly visible. "Even if you don't like it, at least it'll keep me quiet for an hour or two." The play wasn't of the highest quality, but it was entertaining. And, more importantly to Tom, it was cheap. There was only so much walking he could do before he just wanted to sit down.

And there were...certain other things he wanted to save his energy for.
 
Last edited:
He had sent her a text message which simply read:

The park. By the bandstand. 7pm.

Tamsin had instantly felt at home with the idea. The night was her time, after all, and she had often wondered around the huge are of parkland that lay at the heart of the city. She looked forward to her evening with Tom whatever the finer points of their date would be.

Me. Dating somebody. It had been Tamsin who had first spoken the word in the others company. The idea seemed alien to her and yet, here she was right in the middle of it all. The only thing was it didn't feel dating. They had been having fun together just hanging out and enjoying each others company visiting a few art galleries and even pretending to be a rich, newly-wed couple and looking around an open home, giggling like school children when they were almost caught out by the seller. It didn't feel like dating to her, it felt like living. Tamsin had also spent a few nights in Tom's flat, their sleeping arrangements moving from the floor to the bed, but as of yet they hadn't moved past the kissing and the cuddling stage.

And so it was that Tamsin found herself alone in the park on a Wednesday evening freezing her ass off. She had greatly overestimated what the weather was going to be like and had decided to wear a thin, sky blue stripy knitted jumper through which her lacy magenta bra could be seen through alternate stripes. Regretting her choice as soon as she had left the warmth of her building, she silently thank whichever God was listening that she had decided against wearing a skirt and had instead gone for a pair of pale, minty coloured skinny jeans. At least my knees won't be knocking together. Just my teeth.

Tamsin was beginning to feel like she had taken a wrong turn somewhere in the darkness of the park and was reaching for her phone when she spotted Tom a little way ahead of her. He was standing a little of the path, in a natural gap that had formed in the thick row of hedges that bordered the path. Not seeing her yet, his head was sweeping left and then right across the park awaiting her arrival. He's got a blanket. Thank you, thank you.

"Tamsin."

Smiling as he called out her name, Tamsin quickened her pace a little and soon found herself kissing him on the lips. Needless to say, they had refined this to art form over the past weeks and had each learned the little extra bits that the other particularly liked. As if to demonstrate the point, Tom playfully bit down on her lower lip before pulling away. That was how Tamsin would have defined their fortnight long courtship, playful.

"So, what's the plan mister?"

He took her by the hand and led her through the small gap in the hedges. They emerged at the top of a lip which encompassed the whole of a natural bowl. In the centre, a small stage had been erected and a few busy people were working away fitting lights and speakers. The tall hedges blocked out the wind that had been whipping around them outside and created an informal, outdoors amphitheatre. Small huddles of people, mostly students, were dotted around the slope, some sitting on picnic chairs the others sat on blankets on the grass. Tamsin saw that many of them had bottles of wine or other kinds of alcohol with them and were merrily drinking away. Tom waved his arm in the air, a little melodramatically. He is an artist.

"Some of the drama students are putting on a production of a Midsummer Night's Dream. Even if you don't like it, at least it'll keep me quiet for an hour or two."

She smiled at him and started pulling him by the hand over to a spot high up the slope and near the hedge wall. Pulling Tom down next to her on the ground she jokingly began pulling at the edges of the blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

"Stop hogging the blanket, I'm freezing my ass of here."

They spent the first two acts of the play lying down on the grass. Tom was on his back and Tamsin lay on her side, head resting on his chest the blanket lying over their bottom halves. She could feel his heart beating, the regular rise and fall of his ribcage in time with his breathing and she began to lose herself in what was being acted out on the stage below them. It was by no means a great play, the actors being students, but she found herself emotionally committed to the forbidden marriage of two of the main characters. She could identify with that. Not being able to have something you wanted simply because a father forbids it. It was a memory she didn't want to dwell on and she found herself hugging Tom that much tighter because of it.

There was a small interval before the second half during which the blanket was pulled higher as the chill in the air grew. The third act began and Tamsin found herself absent-mindedly running one hand along Tom's thigh, beneath the blanket, as she rested on his chest. A small moan escaped his lips and she looked up at him, a little surprised by the sound after being so engrossed in the play. Tom was smiling back at her and she realised what she had been doing with her hand. Smiling back she carried on stroking his thigh affectionately. Tilting her head up towards his, she kissed his lips whilst, in the exact same moment, cupping his crotch in her hand. She could feel his body stiffen in surprise.

"Shhh." She whispered, their lips mere millimetres apart.

A mischievous smirk played at the edges of her lips as her hand slowly squeezed his balls. Tamsin could feel his body responding to her intimate touch, a slight hardening of his cock. Her smile broadened and she returned her head to where it had laid on Tom's chest during the first act as if nothing was happening. No one around them would even think that she was gently massaging his quickly growing penis through the material of his jeans.
 
Back
Top