When the dark cabriolet that Bridget rented for the day ── just to pick Franky up ── slides through the mild traffic in the very quiet neighborhood that surrounds Wentworth, Francesca Doyle takes advantage of the car's lack of roof to see and smell all that isn't the prison in which she has lived for the past few years. She wanted to be picked up by a hot girl in a hot car, didn't she? It is very hard for her to keep her green eyes off of the attractive blonde, their hands entwined on the gearstick, as well as off of the neighborhood she hasn't seen in so long now. She notices a few new stores and residences. Others have been torn down. The sight has changed a great deal, Franky concludes, but she spreads her nostrils happily when the familiar smell of the city gently prickles her senses.
A small smile lays upon Bridget's lips as she lets the raven-haired ex-prisoner take all of it in, quiet herself, as she navigates the dark car through the calm streets and enjoys to listen to Franky's occasional exclamations, of "That store wasn't there yet when I was sent to prison!" and "I once lived there with this hot redhead I dated!" and many others. She likes to hear those small bits and pieces, of who Franky was before they met, of how Franky's life was like.
With a bit of luck and thought, a lot of intelligent thought, Bridget Westfall managed to arrange that Franky gets to stay with her for now. With Ferguson on trial, the former Wentworth governor, the Board didn't have time to focus on potential previous relationships between a prisoner and a staff member. When she defended her suggestion, she told the Board that it would be best if Franky was surrounded by someone whom she felt comfortable with, AKA herself, and had a few sessions a month with a new counselor, more professionally, as part of her rehabilitation. No word of any kind of feelings from Bridget towards Franky or from the ex-prisoner towards her. She's not stupid enough to go and assume that they don't know, but they just let them be, and she can live with this. She's not afraid to be with Franky in public ── not anymore.
The two pick up Thai food on the way ── Franky's choice ── and sit on the floor, by the TV, half-dressed, and watch an old re-run of Sex and the City while they eat, and a few words are occasionally exchanged, about things Franky has noticed and hasn't said yet, about all of the things Franky wants to do now she's free again. The raven-haired ex-prisoner confirms the Thai place close by the blonde's studio has delicious recipes, some of which Franky can't wait to try in Bridget's big, functional kitchen, and that the floor by the TV is comfortable as they sit with their backs up against the sofa, closely beside one another.
When they are both sated, food wise, they kiss, hands tangled in each other's hair and tongues in one another's mouths, bodies pressed closely together. When she feels she won't be able to stop if they continue, Bridget Westfall disengages their kiss. When she tells Franky that she has made up the spare room for her, the ex-prisoner interrupts her and tells her she will sleep with Bridget only, definitely not separately. The blonde is glad for that.
When they lay in bed with each other, entirely naked, they feel the desire to just hold on to the moment, to savor it and just take it slow now that they can. It is when both females lay naked upon the comfortable bed that way and share a kiss every now and then that Bridget blinks the tears she feels well up back. The blonde tries her best to hide it, but Franky lifts her face, a forefinger tucked under her chin gently, and Bridget can tell, in surprise, that she's not the only one who is emotional.
"I know," the raven-haired, green-eyed woman says. Bridget Westfall wants to tell her that she isn't so sure, when she continues, "There's no woman on Earth that I've been able to lay with like this before either, because this is... more. It is shit that I had to be in prison first to find it, but it was worth it if this life is mine now."
A small smile lays upon Bridget's lips as she pushes a stray dark hair from Franky's forehead, then traces her lips with her right thumb, as she says in a warm whisper that makes a shiver run up and down the ex-prisoner's spine, "It is."