Fatima Pt. 02: Hermione - Sex Stories

Fatima Pt. 02: Hermione

... the rest of the evening would pan out.

'Nothing serious, I hope?' Fatima said when Hermione returned.

'Just Kobe getting himself into mischief again,' the older woman replied.

Fatima assumed that Hermione was referring to her son, but in the event it was something else entirely. She shouldn't have been surprised, given all the years she had spent in the UK.

'Our dog,' Hermione expanded, seeing the uncertain look on Fatima's face. 'Well, one of them. A Jack Russell - always finding new ways of injuring himself.'

Fatima asked her more about her dogs, even though she could take them or leave them, in truth. English people had such an obsession about the animals, which someone from the subcontinent found bizarre. But then many of her adopted countrymen had dysfunctional families and were alienated from their parents and siblings, or divorced. They could do with the company of a living thing that didn't answer back or contradict them, she reckoned.

When Hermione got into her stride, telling her about the different breeds she owned and the different temperaments they had, Fatima began to think that she'd misread the situation. Confirmation that she hadn't came after a few minutes, when suddenly she felt a hand on her knee. Something like a bolt of electricity shot through her body. She made no effort to remove the hand, dealing with the excitement she felt by taking a sip of water from her glass.

'I'm staying at the hotel at the conference centre,' said ...

... Hermione - it was an invitation rather than a mere statement.

'Me too,' replied Fatima, unable to think of something more original to say.

'Makes sense if we take a taxi, then,' said the psychiatrist, squeezing Fatima's knee before removing her hand and using it to beckon the waiter over.

Hermione engaged Fatima in conversation all the way to their destination, as if what she had planned for the rest of the evening (who knew, the whole night, perhaps?) was the most natural thing in the world. She talked freely about her husband and her dogs, then suddenly asked Fatima if she had any children.

'I'm not really the motherly type,' she answered as casually as she could.

'That's what I always felt,' the doctor replied. 'At least until the first popped along. Then I suppose the maternal instinct kicked in.'

'How many do you have?' Fatima asked, constantly caught out by this woman's conversational shifts.

'Just the two,' she replied, taking Fatima's hand in hers as if she were a proxy. 'A boy and a girl. Seven and five.'

Fatima wanted to say that it clearly hadn't cramped her style but decided a murmur (of what - approval, congratulations?) was more in order.

As they were drawing up to their hotel, Hermione told Fatima she'd no doubt be wanting to go to her room to freshen up. They discovered they had rooms on the same floor, and Hermione told Fatima to come over when she was ready. She had that look on her face which said she would be slipping into something ...