Author's note:
Another story carried over from livejournal. This is a slash pairing and it's a little heavy – if you're not comfortable with it, please consider leaving this story as unread. ;)
Some language and definite adult content in this one.
The title is taken from the song "One Night" by The Corrs.
XX
I sleep with the television on and muted so my apartment flickers with blue light. Always. It's company through the nights in a city where it's never dark, never silent. I used to love this. I lived for this but now it's sterile and cold and all I want is company.
Under the stinging needles of hot water I shampoo my hair twice and leave the conditioner in for six full minutes as I carefully shave my legs, soap an exotic-sounding body wash over my skin and exfoliate so I'm tingling and smooth. Today I am putting in extra effort.
x
My morning is full of meetings, which is fine with me because today I'm not in the mood to speak much. I sit and listen – or pretend to – and now and then I can catch the eye of a male colleague who will blush slightly and look away because he thinks I've caught him gazing at the curve of my breast under my blue silk shirt.
Usually I'd take advantage and let a button gape open for a moment or two, toss my hair, wet my lips with my tongue – but today my mind is not on men. It's on her.
x
We're meeting for a late lunch. I have the afternoon off and I'm hoping that if our lunch goes well I can suggest a shopping trip through Bloomingdale's or somewhere and we can spend more than a mealtime together. I check my cell before I leave the office but she's left me no indication of a cancellation – and I'm not sure why she should. Or why I'm nervous. God I'm nervous.
Laine is seated when I get there, napkin still folded in a point by her plate, but her water glass is only half full and there are crescents of pink lipstick around the rim. She spots me and rises to her feet with an excited smile.
"Stacey!"
I grin back at her, my nerves taking a backseat as I hug her and remember that we're old friends and nothing has really changed that much – has it?
"Busy day?" she asks me as she seats herself again.
"Meetings." I pull a face and she smiles. "How about you?"
She waves a perfectly-manicured hand dismissively. "The trip down yesterday wore me out a little but I'm fine. I was hoping to do a little shopping later, if you're up for it."
I nod a little too eagerly and we're given our menus.
"So what's good here?"
x
Before I know it our plates are cleared away and we're sipping coffee and grinning at each other across the table. We've discussed our parents and giggled over memories of school and debated how much New York has changed since she left and I came back.
Suddenly she leans forward on her elbows. I catch a glance of a black lace bra hidden just under the low neckline of her shirt as it drops forward.
"So are you wondering if it's true?" she asks, quirking an eyebrow at me.
I flush slightly. "I wasn't sure if you wanted to talk about it."
She laughs and takes another careful sip of her coffee, her eyes fixed on mine over the rim of her cup. "You heard about it then."
"My mom did," I admit. "She told me. Well, she asked me about it. But I didn't – I don't..." I trail off lamely. "We don't have to talk about it."
"I'm not ashamed of it," she says simply. "Well – embarrassed that I was caught in the act, but who wouldn't be?"
I give her a nervous smile. "Who caught you?"
"One of my cousins," she shrugs. "She was staying with me for a while, I thought she'd be out all night but she came home and found me with my girlfriend in the bathtub."
I blush at the image and give a laugh that sounds only slightly unnatural. I'm suddenly uncomfortable and I don't know why. My stomach is a bundle of butterflies now that the rumour has been confirmed, that Laine has admitted it. I find myself wondering if I've ever really met a lesbian before. I shake my head slightly, embarrassed at my thoughts.
"So, how about you?" Laine asks casually, pressing a napkin to the edges of her mouth.
"Me?" I ask blankly. I run trembling fingers through my hair.
"Last I heard you were hooking up with some married guy from Manhattan," Laine said. "Naughty naughty."
"Oh, him," I say, breathing a silent sigh of relief. "Yeah, that's over." I don't really want to discuss the moral objections anybody might have about that relationship and Laine is quick to realise. The subject drops.
"So you're single now?" she asks tentatively.
"Uh-huh. A guy at work now and then – nothing serious."
Her eyes twinkle. "Good old Stace. Still boy-crazy, then."
I laugh. "I guess so."
She wrinkles her nose. "Doesn't all that body hair put you off?"
I stare at her a moment and then we both erupt into giggles. I signal for the check before we escape out into the afternoon sun, still laughing. She slings an arm around my shoulder casually.
"So I owe you for lunch? Or I can treat you to something later if you want..."
For some reason I don't think she's talking about Bloomingdale's.
"Don't worry about it," I say. "So you want to take a cab and do some shopping?"
She gazes at me for a moment and I feel as though I'm under scrutiny.
"We could just go back to my motel room and watch a movie," she says. "It's pretty cushy; you should come and check it out just for kicks." She's trying to be casual but there's a slight breathy whisper in her voice that betrays her and I can feel a tingling in my fingertips.
"Sure."
We're both surprised when I give my own casual-sounding reply, but she doesn't stop to question it.
x
Twenty minutes later we've exited a cab and the elevator has taken us to the seventeenth floor of a building that's all polished marble and plush carpets.
She keys the door open and I take in the enormous bed and heavy curtains before the door swings shut behind me and suddenly Laine is there with her face just inches from mine. I can smell her perfume.
"Hi," I say with a nervous giggle.
She smiles, slowly. "Hi."
We stand there a moment and my heart thuds against my breast. Oh my God if she can't hear it I'll be amazed...
"Stacey..." She edges forward a little. "Want to know the real reason I invited you to lunch...?"
I nod silently without really hearing her question. I'm sure my eyes are wide and I'm sure she knows I'm nervous about where all of this is going.
"Cos it was you, first," she whispers. She's so close I can't keep her face in focus anymore. I glance down and her lips are so close I think we're sharing breath. It seems heavy and wet between us but it's not unpleasant. I feel daring, suddenly. I touch her cheek with my fingertips.
"I was in love with you," she murmurs, and she closes her eyes, her lashes dark against her skin. "And every girl I was with I compared her to you even though we've never..." She leans forward and her mouth meets mine.
It's different, kissing a woman. I can taste her lipstick and because we're both wearing it, things seem a little stickier than it is with a man, but it's not anything that causes me to pull away. My heart races and jumps crazily and my fingers tremble against her cheekbone.
She gains confidence and because she does, I do too. I must be doing something right. She backs me against the door and I can feel her hands cool against my hips, sliding against my shirt and the curve of my waist.
She breaks the kiss, and during the moment she takes a quivering breath I blurt "I've never done this before."
Her eyes open and she gives me a sure smile. "I know. It's okay." She brushes my hair gently from my face. She looks so tender – a word I would never associate with Laine – that I relax again and let her twine her fingers into my blonde curls.
"Are you okay?" she asks.
"I don't know," I admit, my eyes dropping downward to avoid hers. "I don't want to lead you on or anything..." That sounds so ridiculous, but she doesn't laugh.
She shrugs, casually, and I see the old Laine for a moment – cool exterior, always composed. "I don't want to settle down or anything. I just want to try this with you." She presses a gentle finger under my chin, forcing me to look at her. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable," she says firmly. "I know this isn't something you've thought about, right?"
I nod silently.
"I still want to be with you, and touch you..." She kisses me again and for a moment I melt a little. She's a wonderful kisser. Sure of herself. She knows what she's doing and she wants me, desires me, has dreamed of me...
Her hands are in my hair, the kiss is going deeper and I can still taste her lipstick and smell her perfume and a faint musk of morning cigarettes in her hair.
Somewhere inside my mind I know it's wrong to keep going, because I have no intention of ever doing this again or returning her feelings in any way beyond some sort of distant friendship – but it feels so good. Besides, she knows where I stand, doesn't she? I love men too much to give them up – I'm still Boy-Crazy Stacey. I am, I am...
Her hands dip under my shirt and her fingertips brush against my belly. I gasp a little and she smiles.
"Ticklish, Stace?"
I grin, my confidence suddenly blossoming. This time I initiate the kiss. I cup her jaw with my hand, let my fingers slip through her dark silky hair. It's all so gentle. I almost don't understand it – not with Laine. Other women hate Laine, with her cool, bitchy attitude and confidence. She looks rich and gorgeous and collected at all times but right now, as she fumbles with the top button on my shirt, she looks flushed and a little out of control.
She guides me – something I don't really let men do. Usually I am pushing them through doorways, pulling their shirts from their bodies and pushing them into mattresses or floorboards. I like being on top, I like them naked while items of clothing still cling to my skin, I like the feeling of being in control.
But here, I don't know what I'm doing. It seems so different.
She tugs my shirt gently from my shoulders and it slips to the floor in a puddle of blue silk. I can't quite bring myself to remove her clothing, but she doesn't seem to mind.
She takes my hand and we sit on the edge of the bed. I kick my shoes off and press my stockinged toes into the carpet.
"You okay?" she asks.
I glance up at her curiously. Her lips are pink and soft. Her lipstick is smudged across her mouth and I give her a small smile as I realise I must not look much different.
"Great," I answer her.
Her fingers trace a path up my arm and across my collarbone. I relax and tip my head back, closing my eyes as her fingers leave my skin prickling and hot. Her arms go around me again and she presses her lips to the thumping pulse in my neck. Without meaning to I let a soft moan escape, rolling my head to the side, leaving a pale expanse of skin exposed to her kisses.
She slips out of her jacket and shirt and presses her stomach against mine, her skin warm and soft. I can feel her nervousness now and it transfers to me a little. She trails her mouth down my skin and slips her hands under the heavy black skirt I wore to work this morning – it seems so long ago. Her fingers stroke my thighs.
It's all very slow – not how I usually like things and I find myself enjoying it less and less. I think about telling her to stop but I feel guilty – we've already gone this far. And it's not entirely unpleasant – just new, and I think she's being gentle because she knows I've never done this with another woman before.
I find myself thinking about men. I try to focus because I don't want her to know I'm distracted – who wants to know when the person you're making out with is distracted? – but all I can think about is male hands and stubble and thick biceps. And cock, but when I start thinking about that my mind really does wander, so I force myself, once again, to focus on Laine.
She's in the process of removing my bra. It snaps open and she tosses it carelessly to the floor, engrossed in her task of exploring my flesh. I feel a bit like a science experiment. But oh, her hands do feel good... she's discovered my silk underwear. I've always enjoyed the feeling of fingers against silk over my skin.
Her lips gently pinch my earlobe. "Stacey, you're so wet," she whispers.
I am. I'm surprised by how suddenly she's managed to turn me on. From almost nothing – to a quivering, panting wet mess. I grab her and kiss her quickly, determined to chase the feeling rather than shrink back to uncertainty.
Her fingers slip inside my underwear.
"Oh my God..." My eyes roll back and I flop helplessly back onto the mattress.
Suddenly men are the last thing on my mind. She can have me; all of me.
x
I must have fallen asleep because Laine is shaking my shoulder gently, a smile on her face and her hair a curtain around us.
"Hungry?" she asks.
I close my eyes again and grin. "Depends. What did you have in mind?"
"I ordered room service," she says with a laugh. "And I've run the tub. Fancy Champagne and a bubble bath?"
As if I'd ever say no to that. I spring from beneath the sheets, not bothering to drag any clothes on. She's seen every inch of my skin, touched it, tasted it. I was embarrassed at first but she was damn good at driving that emotion away and replacing it with white-hot nothing. I can't remember the last time I came so hard. I hope the walls here are more soundproof than they look.
I sink into the tub just as there's a knock at the door. Laine goes to fetch our Champagne in a robe that skims the tops of her thighs, barely covering anything.
She returns with a bucket of ice and chilled glasses, sinking into the tub opposite me and pouring the bubbly alcohol carefully.
"Are we celebrating?" I ask.
"Maybe," she says, a smile twitching at her lips. "Do you feel like celebrating?"
"Always," I joke, not sure how to respond seriously. I accept the glass she hands me and take a hasty gulp. "So is this how your cousin caught you, with the other girl?" I ask.
"Sort of," Laine replies. "Only we were making out as well, which leaves even less room for misinterpretation."
I laugh. "How did your mom take it?"
"Not well," Laine admits. "She's slowly coming around, but it's been hard for her." She eases back and gently blows a puff of bubbles away from her breasts. I try not to let my eyes wander to them, though it hardly matters now.
"How do you think your mom would take it?" she asks suddenly. "I mean, if you told her what happened today."
I don't even need to think about that one. "She was horrified when she found out I was sleeping with men," I say. "If I told her to include women as well she'd probably kill me."
Laine gives a small giggle at that. "And your friends?"
I blink. My friends. Suddenly I am reminded, painfully, that I sleep with the television on for company, that the city is full of nobodies when it comes to my yearning for friendship. I've lost touch with nearly everybody – Claudia visits now and then...
"Claud would be shocked," I say, trying to look non-committal. "But she wouldn't cut me out of her life or anything."
"You think your mom would?" Laine asks daringly.
I shrug. Non-committal.
"How is Claudia?" Laine asks. I can still hear a bit of jealousy in her voice and I love her for that, really.
"Okay," I say. I think. I don't really know.
"And the rest of them?" Laine asks.
I grin. "Mary Anne is married," I say. "Of course. I think they're trying for babies, but I don't really speak to her much anymore."
Laine inspects her fingernails. The bathwater is softening her nail polish. I don't think she's terribly interested in what I have to say about my friends. Former friends...
"They're all going about their business," I say, not wanting to bore her or reveal the fact I don't really know anything about them anymore. "Claudia visits now and then but I think she comes mostly for the art galleries..." I blink back tears as I voice the thought aloud. "Dawn is travelling... Last I heard she was in Asia somewhere, backpacking or something..." Probably making friends all over the world and here I am, sitting in a tub with a woman who only had lunch with me so she could fuck me.
I stand up suddenly, sloshing water all over the floor. "I have to go," I say.
Laine stares at me in alarm. "What?"
I drag a towel around my body, hurrying through into the bedroom where my clothes are scattered on the floor around the bed.
"Stacey, what's wrong?" Laine asks.
"I just have to go," I say.
"Can I take you somewhere?" she asks desperately. "I can come with you, go with you somewhere..." she trails off, loosely holding a towel against the wet curves of her flesh.
"You can't," I say, forcing my silk shirt over my wet skin. "I just have to go, that's all. I'm sorry."
She comes up behind me as I'm stepping into my skirt and puts her arms around my waist. I'm painfully away of her wet breasts against my back.
"Laine," I whisper, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have stayed this afternoon."
She rests her chin on my shoulder. "You didn't enjoy it."
I turn my head and look at her, my mouth open, my cheeks pink. "Of course I did... I mean..."
I sigh, my resolve to leave somewhat weakened, and I sit on the bed in my shirt and brief underwear and run my fingers through my tangled hair. "This isn't what I want," I say, gesturing between us. "I don't want a lover, I just want a friend..." Tears spill down my cheeks and I rub my fists against them angrily. "I just want someone to have lunch with and talk with and see movies with..." My voice cracks. "If I want to find somebody for sex there are a dozen guys at work tripping over themselves to see me naked," I say. "What I don't have is someone like you to talk to."
Laine puts her arm around my shoulders but I turn away because she's still naked and for some reason all I can think about is how I squirmed against her fingers earlier in the day. I wish she'd get dressed.
"We can still do those things," she says desperately. "I'm sorry, Stacey... all I've been able to think about lately is you and how much..." she swallows, sounds nervous, her fingers clammy on my skin. "I love you," she says finally. "I really do, Stace."
I blink, unsure how to reply. Unsure if she means friend or lover.
"I've been so unfair to you," Laine says, leaning over me again, spooning the front of her body around my back.
"I'm confused," I whisper. "And alone."
"No," Laine murmurs, kissing the back of my neck. "Not alone."
I turn my head and can't resist placing a gentle kiss on her mouth. To reassure myself, and her, because she looks as miserable as I do.
She smiles at me. "What a way to end a day like this," she sighs. "But we can rescue it, right?"
I shrug. "I don't know."
"Sure we can..." She strokes my hair.
I'm on my back and she's curled up beside me, beads of water still on her skin. "Tell me what you really want," she says softly.
I close my eyes. Her fingers feel so good trailing through my hair. I almost don't notice when her hand skims across my breast. Almost don't notice.
"Someone," I breathe. "So instead of waking up and listening to late-night crime dramas or seedy movies I can pick up the phone and talk about how I can't sleep. Someone to eat with or go out with, someone to touch..." I reach over and breeze my fingertips along the curve of her waist to her hip.
"I can be that person," she says.
I'm unsure.
"You can pick up the phone and call me any time," Laine whispers, her breath in my ear. "I'll come over, I'll cook, I'll take you out, I'll be the perfect girlfriend."
"I'm not sure I'm into girlfriends," I say doubtfully. "Not in the same way you are."
She grins. "Only your head is saying that, Stace. Your body is easily persuaded."
I'm wet again. I'm suddenly annoyed she can turn me on with what seems such little effort.
"Maybe," I say, sounding grumpy.
She chuckles. "Stop being such a fucking snob, Stacey. I'm not saying this is gonna be perfect but it's gonna be fun, right? You can go back to your boys and your television and your apartment when I leave on Sunday, but just promise me one thing..."
My legs are already tangled with hers, my fingers are already against her cheek and I'm trying to unbutton my shirt with my free hand. "What?" I ask.
"When I'm in town, have lunch with me again..."
I laugh and she kisses my smile.
x