Disclaimer: The character of 'Bridget Westfall' and 'Francesca 'Franky' Doyle' belong to Fremantle Media Australia, and it is with my gratitude that I borrow them because let's be honest, dangling that S04E01 carrot wasn't very nice. No spoilers, rated K+ because there's some content, but it's mostly fluffy.
It still left her glancing over her shoulder, cracking open the Corona, stuffing the wedge of lime into the neck and carrying it into the rumpus room. Franky Doyle was almost certain her luck would expire, soon. Not only was she actually in a rumpus room, she was in Bridget Westfall's home. Job prospects were on the rise and even the forced contact her father had initiated had led to something wonderful, unexpectedly so.
The slender woman was certainly not going to take for granted the freedom she now had, she found herself taking the chance to watch the sunset whenever possible. There were no cell bars, no barb wired fences to obscure her view, just clear skies and the most gorgeous woman in the world alongside her.
As she meandered around the room, Franky sipped her beer and rolled the cue ball across the velvet of the pool table. Bridget's tastes were modest, modern yet comfortable and Franky admired the slate grey carpeting at her feet, a perfect contrast to the forest green felt. It occurred to her as she took another mouthful that though Bridget had returned from 'y'know, that place' as they'd come to refer to Wentworth, the amber haired beauty had remained mostly gathered up in her own thoughts.
They'd shared a meal together, another luxury not to take for granted, vegetables that were fresh and crunched, rice that cooked until it was light and fluffy, lightly herbed chicken cubes that were indeed actual chicken. Bridget's ease smile had been ever present, her kind eyes locked onto Franky as they shared their day's anecdotes with a Shiraz Bridget had 'just picked up' along the way.
Setting the condensation covered bottle onto the coaster Bridget had silently slipped under enough cups for Franky to have picked up the habit herself, the raven haired woman wandered out of the room and pad across the wooden floorboards in stocking covered feet. Only the light above the stovetop, left on to vaguely light the way, met Franky's gaze as she searched through the open kitchen space, past the dining table where they'd shared more than just meals together.
With a devious grin beginning to cross her lips, Franky finally moved down the hallway, hovering outside the door at the very end of the hall. The door rest slightly ajar, a thin strip of light stretching out to her. Franky gripped the handle firmly with one hand, knocking before pushing into the room.
Bridget sat with the back of her chair to the door, the high leather supple and encompassing as she sat hunched forward, one leg crossed over the other. Utterly involved in her notes, Bridget hadn't heard Franky's knock, nor did she hear the woman's approach. Hesitating before she reached out to rest her hand on Bridget's shoulder, Franky stepped back, softened her smile and simply stood and watched as those delicate, long fingers grasped the fountain pen firmly.
The sound of a bird chirp broke through the peace and Bridget's head snapped up, then over to where Franky stood.
"You were watching me." It wasn't an accusation, just an observation given with a smile that radiated warmth. Franky took a step closer to the woman she'd come to care deeply for, deeper than she'd ever dreamt she would, and smiled as Bridget's arms automatically moved to encircle around Franky's waist, drawing the woman into her lap. Nestled against Franky's shoulder, Bridget ignored the secondary alert the mobile phone gave and let out a soft sigh.
"I'm really caught up in all this… Ferguson… business." Bridget admitted slowly, choosing her words carefully as she spoke yet still feeling Franky as she stiffen in her grasp. Easing her touch, she ran her hands over Franky out of comfort, soothing the tension almost immediately.
"It's alright. You can talk to me about it." Franky twisted herself slightly in Bridget's arms, cupping the woman's face in her hands, her expression intent as she searched the cobalt depths before her.
"Thank you." Bridget paused as she felt her cheeks begin to warm under the constant scrutiny. As if she sensed it, Franky shifted her eyes downwards for a brief moment, looking to the coral hued rouge lips instead. "And I will. Eventually." Bridget stopped picking her words as she set the topic aside in her mind, knowing there were far better things and far better people she could concentrate on. With that, she caught Franky's eye once more.
"Eventually, eh?" Franky let her smile twist once more, chartreuse flecked eyes sparkling.
"Unless you've got somewhere else to be?" Bridget teased, South Eastern accent thickened by desire while her hands began to slowly move across Franky's body. Bringing their lips together, Franky held onto Bridget, held onto the long moment as it stretched between them and their soft kisses.
"There's nowhere else I'd rather be." Franky stated as she separated their bodies abruptly, rising to her feet and offering Bridget her hand. Taking it, the treacle highlights shimmered in the overhead light as she stood and allowed Franky to drag her from the home office and up the hall to the rumpus room.
"Franky…" Bridget uttered in that typical low tone, the one that had always sent a shiver down Franky's spine, the one they both pretended meant business, that Franky would take seriously. The one she never did. Without a word, Franky spun Bridget on the point of her heels, guiding her backwards until Bridget found herself conveniently pinned between Franky and the rim of the pool table. "I'm sensing there's some kind of plot you've had worked out going on here." She finally remarked.
Franky's lips quirked, a half smile she gave often to one person in particular as she nudged Bridget back just an inch more, the woman clinging to the table edge as she stood on the tips of her toes.
"Me? Plot? Nah, Gidget. You're not making sense, actually."
"Oh, actually, is it?" Bridget arched an eyebrow as she studied Franky's playful expression. The upper hand switched between them with such ease, the constant cat-and-mouse between them adding to the delight they'd found within one another. Franky purred as Bridget tried to even the field, sliding her hand over Franky's hip and letting it rest just under the hem of her shirt.
"You tryin' something?" Franky interrupted, sliding her knee between Bridget's thigh, rolling them both back as Bridget found the palms of her hands slamming against the felt to remain upright.
"No, but you appear to be." Bridget husked, eyelids fluttering shut as Franky firmly ran her hand along the jacket suit Bridget hadn't removed once she'd returned home. The charcoal pinstripe suit cling to Bridget in all the right ways yet without hesitation, Franky worked the buttons loose to reveal the silk blouse beneath, pure white. To Franky's surprise, hidden beneath the matching vest Bridget wore, the undeniable hint of lavender lace appeared under the silk and Franky's mouth watered.
"I'm just," Franky swallowed thickly and suddenly found her mouth dry, Birthday-morning giddy with what she'd begun to think was happiness as she cast a glance at Bridget. Sentiment went unspoken as she smirked. "Obliging your obsession with table tops."
"My obsession?" Bridget chuckled, poking Franky with an index finger. "I'm not the one who launched that attack at the dining table." She pointed out as Franky squirmed and giggled. Snatching Bridget's finger, she pinned the woman's hand down, then playfully went for the other as Bridget raised her arm, hand out of reach.
"Unfair advantage!" Franky claimed.
"How you figure?"
"The heels."
"You're not actually complaining about my heels, are you?" Bridget lowered her hand as Franky's gaze moved back to her own again and took the chance to grab at the woman in an attempt to spin them, shift the control back to her court as it were. Franky continued to grin as they teased one another, her mouth catching the nape of Bridget's neck as the woman twist in her arms, tongue sliding over soft flesh as Bridget let out a sigh.
"I wouldn't be complaining if they were pretty much all you were wearing." Franky whispered in Bridget's ear as she moved her lips to nibble at an earlobe, rendering Bridget momentarily speechless as she exhaled deeply. Running her tongue across dry lips, she pulled her head back, tossing loosened curls over her shoulder.
"Pretty much." Bridget echoed as she locked her eyes onto Franky, laying her hand flat against the woman's chest, feeling the steady heartbeat beneath her fingertips. "If you'd give me a minute,"
"Thirty seconds." Franky allowed, covering Bridget's hand with her own for one brief moment before taking a step back. As Bridget stepped past her, she glanced appreciatively at the matching charcoal skirt encasing firm thighs. "Fifteen." With a chuckle and a voluptuous glance thrown over her shoulder, Bridget reached one hand to the clasp holding the vast majority of her waves back, letting the locks spill down before sweeping them to one side. Franky groaned, feigned falling to her knees as she slapped both hands over her heart, staggering out of the room and following in Bridget's footsteps.
"Wait." Bridget stopped outside the bedroom door, one hand resting on the handle as she looked back at Franky once more. "I have no intention of leaving this room, Francesca. You'd best bring supplies."
Franky arched both eyebrows, surprised, aroused by the commanding tone in Bridget's voice and was almost tempted to salute. Instead, she gave a nod and one final sweep of the woman before her as she retreated back, spinning on the ball of her foot before hightailing towards the kitchen.
Precariously balancing two wine glasses, a bottle from the same vintage that they'd shared earlier that evening and the jug of water Bridget kept beside the bed, Franky eyed the cling-wrap covered bowl of cream she'd whipped for the eclairs she'd baked the previous morning. As easy as it would be to replace, Franky was almost certain that if she would drop any of the items in her arms, it would most certainly be the blood-red wine.
Kicking the pantry door closed with one toe, Franky elbowed the light switch until the kitchen space was once again only cast in light from the overhead and practically skipped her way back to Bridget.
With the ensuite door only slightly ajar, Franky set the glasses upon one bedside table, the bottle and jug upon the other as she eased onto the bed. Already the light above the neatly made bed had been dimmed and Franky had not failed to notice the trail of clothing leading directly to the bathroom. The door swung open slowly as Bridget emerged.
"Just. Woah." Franky rarely found herself with little to say, yet as she drank in the sight of Bridget Westfall, she could not have possibly begun to find the words to describe everything she felt in that moment. With one hand upon her hip, Bridget lent against the doorframe, crossing her ankles together as she stood there casually smiling.
Lavender lace abound, the matching set she wore distracted Franky from the heels which, as promised, she had remained in. Taking a single step forward, Bridget reached for the light switch behind her, striking it and plunging the room into dull illumination.
The playfulness seemed to disappear as Bridget approached, gaze never leaving that of the one locked onto her as she moved. Franky's features softened as the woman melt against the bed, inching closer until she could position herself on Franky's lap, the heels still upon her feet. Franky let out a breath slowly as she slid her hands over Bridget's hips, down her thighs and back again, resting her touch.
"You're a bloody Goddess, Gidge." Franky whispered tenderly as Bridget brought her lips to Franky's for a moment. There was no denying the passion between them, the anticipation Bridget felt boarding on unbearable as she relaxed into her lover's arms. The compliment made her momentarily aware of herself, how vulnerable she was. And all it took was one look at Franky, one reassuring look to see the desire she felt, the tenderness, reflected right back at her.