Kiss and Tell.

"Sam, that was simply.. unbelievable." Jamie sighed before flopping
helplessly back into the rumpled pillows. Even by their own high
standards, that evening's energetic coupling had been something
special.

"We aim to please," Sam laughed fruitily. Struggling upright through
the tangle of sheets with some difficulty and swinging her delicate
feet down to the chilly, uncarpeted floor, she reached for her glass
and drained the Chardonnay down in one rapid gulp. It wasn't the first
bottle the pair had shared since running back from the refectory, and
the unusual quantity they'd knocked back had left them both slightly
drowsy.

"I did, then? Please you?" Jamie whispered. "I wanted to, because it
was fantastic for me.."

"Am I complaining?" Sam kissed his forehead gently. It was reply
enough.

"Sam.. don't go back tonight," Jamie demanded, taking hold of her arm.
"I want.. I want to wake up with you."

"Sorry, got to!" Sam retorted briskly. "Got that damned essay to finish
for old Fitchett. He'll go berserk if this one's as late as the last
few have been. Grades depend on it."

"Oh, stuff him," Jamie grumbled before relaxing his overtight grip and
trickling his fingertips down the visible length of Sam's spine, making
her gasp. Tracing the line of her shoulderblade, he moved back up,
under her tousled hair, to gently caress her neck. Realising how much
she was enjoying his touch, he smiled before gently shifting his
attention to her breast.

Outside, in another infinitely more mundane world, unsteady footsteps
echoed as Jamie's even more inebriated neighbours shuffled noisily back
from the student union bar. The campus hadn't altered much since being
thrown up in the late seventies, and sounds bounced alarmingly along
the bleak polished corridors. A door slammed in the distance,
strangling a drunken whoop, and silence finally reigned once
more.

"You know.." Jamie murmured before trailing listlessly off.

"What? Whoops, sorry!" Sam burped in a most unladylike fashion before
collapsing back into the sheets, giggling. Jamie wrapped a protective
arm around her naked shoulders and snuggled closer.

"You know.. I fancy you."

"Surprise me!" Sam laughed. "I thought that you were going to come out
with some big revelation or something."

"No." Jamie opened his eyes slowly. "Not yet.. but we've been going out
for nearly three months now and.."

"Come on!" Sam wasn't renowned for her patience. For her vivacious
smile, her energy, her raucous laugh, yes: for restraint and modesty,
no. Jamie, however, still hesitated, lost for the exact words.

"Oh, Jamie, spit it out." She giggled again, betraying her tipsiness.
Jamie wasn't much more coherent as he attempted to focus on her in the
gloom.

"I've been thinking.. you must have been out with quite a few blokes
here. Before I arrived, last year.."

"You think I've been sleeping around? Eh?" Sam's tone was, suddenly,
noticeably less flippant.

"N.. no, of course not," Jamie stammered nervously. "You're a free
agent. But.. well, you must know how much I like you. More than like
you. I'm serious, Sam."

"You want me to confess my sins? How long have you got?"

"All night."

"Well, I haven't." Sam flung Jamie's arm aside and sat up. She shook
her head, regretting now that she felt so fuzzy. Damn it, she liked
Jamie. Very much, if she was honest with herself, but she still didn't
feel that their blossoming relationship gave him any exclusive rights.
Not quite yet..

"I don't mind talking about it," Jamie said, sitting up alongside her.
"Shall we finish this?" He waved the bottle, and Sam nodded as she
relaxed slightly. There was little point in wasting the wine, and she
would need to be off soon anyway.

"There." Jamie poured an over-generous measure into Sam's glass before
giving himself the remains.

"Mm.." Sam took a sip. This was a situation she'd foreseen, but still
couldn't have adequately prepared herself for. There had indeed been
others before Jamie, but he wouldn't really want to know that - he'd
want to think he was the first, like all men: there was something
triumphant, something primitive, about it. She was more outgoing than
he was, older, possibly less inhibited; but Jamie had already begun
dropping hints about wanting some more formal basis to their
relationship. Something more permanent.. and she didn't quite feel
ready for that commitment.

"I wish you'd tell me. About all these men you've known."

"How many hands will I need?" she laughed. "Do you want more than just
last week's total?" Jamie didn't laugh, but she'd not actually expected
him to.

"Okay, okay." Sam changed tack and raised a hand for silence. "Let me
think: there was Jerry Bradley and his brother when I was
fourteen.."

"Oh, be serious!" Jamie hissed in an exasperated tone, grasping her arm
tightly.

"I am serious," she giggled, wiping the dribble of wine from her chin.
"Well, as serious as I ever am. Let's think.. last year, there were
three blokes from my tutorial group." She raised her fingers as she
totted up her imaginary tally. "Oh, and my tutor. Bill Atkins, Sammy
Neville, Uncle Tom Cobbleigh, Frank.."

"Frank?" Having abruptly halted Sam's imaginative "confession", Jamie
rolled out of the warm heap of bedclothes and stood, swaying slightly,
at the side of the bed. "Frank Salmons?"

"No, Frank Furter. Of course Frank bloody Salmons!" Sam replied, doe
eyes widening. "Who else? He's a brilliant lover."

"We'll see about that." Jamie leaped across to his chair with
unexpected vigour and began tugging his crumpled sweatshirt over his
head. "I mean, come on! He's a.. he's a mate!"

"Exactly!" Sam purred. "I thought the three of us might.."

"That.." Jamie waved an accusing finger under Sam's nose as he hauled
up his jeans and scrabbled for the zip with his free hand. "That is not
bloody funny!"

"You mentioned it yourself!" Sam laughed. "Only half an hour
ago!"

"I didn't mean it, you idiot! It was just, well.."

"A joke?"

"Sort of.. not serious, anyway. I was only trying to get you
excited."

"It worked, didn't it?" Sam chuckled.

"Yes, and I'm going over to find out why!" Jamie forced his bare feet
into his trainers with some difficulty as Sam struggled to free herself
from the bedclothes.

"It was a joke!" she shouted angrily, hiccuping and slumping heavily
back into the sheets. "Don't go making a prat of yourself!"

"Looks like you've done that for me already!" Jamie snarled.

"Look!" Sam shouted, aware that the paper-thin walls would mask little
if anything of their tiff, but not caring. "He's your mate? How on
earth does that make it worse?"

"Oh, you wouldn't understand," Jamie shrugged, thinking as rapidly as
his fuddled brain would allow. "It's a bloke thing."

"Too ruddy true I don't understand!" Sam laughed out loud. "It would
have been better with your mortal enemy, would it?"

"Of course not!" Jamie looked flushed and confused, which indeed he
was.

"Explain it to me, then."

Jamie couldn't: he was gone before Sam could protest further,
blundering off with a set, determined frown.

"Hey! Don't you know about Frank?" Sam shouted down the corridor, but
the door was already crashing shut. Swearing quietly to herself, Sam
reached for her phone.

"Come on! Come on, pick up!" she wailed plaintively as the ringing tone
drummed into her ear. "Pick it bloody-well up!"

*****

It was normally only a five-minute walk to Frank's block in the
neighbouring hall of residence, but Jamie had managed it in three. He'd
calmed down slightly by the time he burst into the familiar corridor,
probably as a direct result of the sharp night air clearing his head,
but his fists were still tightly clenched in righteous rage. Breathing
heavily, he hammered on his "friend"'s door before flinging it
wide.

Frank, who'd been sitting on his bed, chatting comfortably to some
bloke that Jamie didn't know, looked up guiltily and shuffled away
towards his pillows.

"Jamie! Nice to see you, mate.. I wasn't actually expecting
you.."

"Er.. I can see that," Jamie spluttered, looking from one to the other
and back again.

"Do you know Dave? Dave Anderson?" Frank blustered.

"No," Jamie snapped icily. "But we need to talk. I think.."

"I'll be away, then," Dave said, rising and making hastily for the
door. Once there, he turned back and addressed Frank:

"You're going to be all right?"

"Of course!" Frank laughed nervously as his friend advanced angrily
towards the bed.. "Jamie's an old mate.."

*****

Sam was pacing the floor, fully dressed and surprisingly clear-headed,
when Jamie finally strode back in.

"Oh, God! You idiot!" she shouted. The bright scarlet trickle from
Jamie's nose was the first thing she'd noticed. "What have you
done?"

"Sorted him out." Jamie smiled triumphantly. "What do you think, eh?
Why don't you go round and see how your friend is?"

"I'm more interested in you!" Sam whispered, reaching out to be
embraced. "Oh, Jamie, you idiot, didn't you realise that what I said
was all a joke? Didn't you actually know about Frank?"

"I only just found out," Jamie admitted, sweeping her off her feet. "I
really didn't know before. I mean, I'm not homophobic or anything..
it's just that I'd never guessed. That Guy Freddie in my tutorial
group, he's really camp - an absolute scream. Frank's just.. so
straight looking. I feel a complete idiot."

"You said it," Sam whispered, making them both laugh. "Hang on.. so why
did you start a fight?"

"What fight?" Jamie pulled back, his face creasing into a broad grin as
he reached for a tissue and wiped away the tell-tale smear from his
upper lip.

"But.."

"Strawberry jam, from the block kitchen," he laughed. "Jenny left a pot
out, more fool her."

"So there was no punch-up?"

"Of course not. Hardly any need, was there?"

"No," Sam whispered. "And you'd really not guessed?"

"No, he's always hanging around with women. Especially you, come to
think of it!"

"Why not?" Sam asked. "He's not the only gay bloke who gets on well
with women. I've known several, and they're usually great for a laugh.
No complications, either."

"I suppose not. I'm sorry."

"I should think so." Sam returned to his arms, smiling as Jamie mumbled
his abject apologies.

Everything had worked out exactly to plan after all: the warning call
had given Frank just enough notice to put on a convincing performance,
and Jamie seemed quite convinced that he'd almost walked into a
somewhat embarrassing chat-up.

Maybe, the way things were going with Jamie, she'd no longer yearn for
variety.. but, in the meantime, the athletic and exhausting afternoon
sessions which she still enjoyed (and intended to enjoy) with Frank
would no longer attract unwanted attention.

"Am I forgiven?" Jamie asked plaintively.

"Mm.. you're forgiven," Sam whispered huskily, smiling to herself as
Jamie hugged her ever more tightly and told himself what a lucky bloke
he was.