This time round was very different from the last.
No crowd gathered in the yard to cheer her on her way; no profanities yelled as she walked through the gates; no tears for the family she had left behind. And no hot girl in the hot car, driving her off into the sunset.
Instead, there was a beautiful women in a silver Volkswagen Golf, sat in the drivers seat anxious for her heart to return to her. Franky allowed a small smile to dance across her lips as she took the precious steps to freedom, one hand clutching her bag of possessions, the other running through her raven hair. Bridget climbed out of her car and Franky was drawn to her like a magnet, instantaneously. After everything, the blonde woman was here, true to her word. "Well, then i'd wait forever." Franky dropped the plastic bag and grabbed Bridget by the waist, her other hand pulling her head closer to hers, her hand lost in the blonde cropped tresses she loved so much. Her body literally gravitated towards Bridget's. Their lips met and Franky melted. She began to sob, her forehead against Bridget's, tears mingling on softs cheeks until neither woman could tell who was still crying. Bridget pulled her tighter towards her, although never close enough. There were times she wished her body could physically be inside Franky's so she could get as close to her as possible.
Tears fell from Bridget's blue eyes, but she did not make a sound. She knew Franky's sobs were that of utter relief and she let her shed as many tears as she needed. From her office, Vera stood at her window and watched the lovers reunite, a lump forming in her throat. As much as she initially thought Bridget was an idiot for her choice of partner, she considered her a good friend and saw how she unravelled and hit rock bottom the last few months. If Franky could put the smile back on Bridget's face and the spring back into her high-heeled step, then so be it.
"Lets go home," Bridget finally whispered, but not loosening her grip on her girl. Franky nodded and wiped her face, exhaling loudly. They each got into the car, the drive back to the house comfortably quiet. Franky stared out of the window, taking in the sights she had seen thousands of times over, but appreciating them as if she was seeing them for the very first time. She felt nervous as the Golf pulled into the front drive of Bridget's home - their home - , but clambered out and let Bridget open the front door. It was an overwhelming experience, something as simple as coming back to the place she loved so much, and she tried not to cry again. She resisted the urge to habitually kick off her Converse into the corner of the hallway, like she was so used to. Bridget truly was the human form of an angel, she thought. After everything that had happened, she still had room in her heart to try again, and to trust the brunette not to fuck up for the umpteenth time. She walked over to her lover, took her face in her hands and kissed her with such tenderness it literally took Bridget's breath away.
"I'm so sorry for everything I put you through, Gidge," she said, trying to hide her breaking voice. She offered a small, lopsided smile to Bridget.
"It's ok, it doesn't matter now. You're home, we're together." Bridget tucked a stray brown lock behind Franky's ear.
"It does matter, I put you through hell, and you never gave up on me. I owe you my life."
"You don't owe me anything. I love you, I told you i'd wait forever if that was what it took."
Bridget looked into Franky's emerald eyes, seeing the guilt and the hurt behind them. She honestly didn't give a fuck about anything other than the fact that they were here, together, and Franky was free. The brunette was her strength, her weakness, and everything in between. She had been lost these past few months, her soul locked away behind bars in a teal tracksuit, and it was physical agony to be so close to her, but yet so far away. Franky's time back at Wentworth had pushed and pulled them further apart until Bridget couldn't see an alternative but to walk away from the job and the girl she loved so much. When Franky's name had been cleared after she found the much needed evidence she needed to be free, Bridget made a promise that no matter what happened next, she would fight for the woman she adored.
"Thank you," Franky finally whispered, before pushing her lips against Bridget's and lingering there, truly appreciating the woman that stood there with her. She was beyond fucking lucky, and made a mental note to spend the rest of her life showing the blonde just how amazing she was.
"Probably a stupid question, but what do you want to do today baby?" Bridget had broken away from their embrace and poured two glasses of red wine, more for her benefit than anything else.
"Honestly?" Franky began. "I wanna lie on the couch with you, order that shitty Thai take-away we both love to hate, and forget about the world until tomorrow. But first, I want a hot shower. I need to wash that place off of me."
"That sounds like perfection," Bridget smiled.
"Will you join me?"
"Are you sure?" Bridget didn't want to invade her privacy; coming out of prison was a testing time, and she knew Franky used her shower time to do her thinking.
Franky nodded. "Yeah, I just wanna feel you next to me. No funny business, I just, I dunno. I want to do all those things we did before."
"Ok baby. Get in, and i'll be right up."
Franky made her way upstairs to the en suite bathroom she and Bridget shared. It looked exactly the same, 2 large cream fluffy towels hanging on the heated towel rack just like they always were. Bridget knew how much Franky hated the cold, and it was a ritual to turn on the rack always before a shower. It was almost instinctive. Franky stripped off her clothes and left them crumpled in a pile in the corner, a habit that generally annoyed her lover greatly. She turned on the power shower and let it run almost scalding hot and stepped in, letting the steaming water invade every inch of her body. She found herself thinking about her latest stretch inside; the look on Bridget's face when she saw Franky back in the teal; the Freak hanging from the basketball hoop; Bridget's frightened eyes when she attacked her. She began to cry, the jets of water mingling with her tears and she rested her body face forward against the tiles, momentarily hating herself; she would honestly rather die than wind up back there again. She didn't realise Bridget had joined her, until she felt soft hands on the small of her back.
"Let's wash your hair," the blonde simply said, choosing not to make a fuss of Franky's emotional state. Instead, she lathered coconut and vanilla shampoo into Franky's raven tresses and felt her tensions reduce. The couple often shared an evening shower, which tended to result in love-making, but today was purely innocent. Franky, who's passion ebbed through her veins and into Bridget, just needed to feel the comforts of home and Bridget respected that.
"Let me wash your hair now, Gidge," Franky said, reaching for her partner's shampoo. The blonde moaned in innocent pleasure as she let the brunette massage her scalp. She missed moments like this more than anything, the simplicities of sharing your life with the person you loved. As Franky massaged the shampoo away from her lover's head under the shower head, their bodies were close together and she was overcome with desire. She placed her hands on Bridget's hips and turned her around so they were face to face.
"I missed you," Franky whispered, referring to both the emotional and the physical. She kissed Bridget, gently first, but the hunger for her body taking over and held her tightly, their wet bodies slippery against each other. But Franky wanted to devour this woman, worship her, not a fumble in the shower.
"Bedroom," she murmured. She grabbed one of the towels and wrapped Bridget up, kissing her as she did so, and towelled herself down. The blonde climbed onto their bed, dropping the towel on the way, and pulled Franky down with her. The brunette mounted her, kissing her woman as if the world was going to end.
"I love you," she said in between heated kisses. "I fucking love you." Franky kissed her way down Bridget's body, every inch of her skin victim to Franky's touch. Fingertips trailed down her body as Franky kissed the rest, paying extra attention to Bridget's breasts and collar bone, the weak spots. Never one to be a silent lover, Bridget moaned, Frabky's lips like fire on her skin, and she knew she wouldn't be able to last long once her lover reached her most intimate area.
"I missed the taste of you," Franky said as she reached her destination, teasing Bridget by kissing her inner thighs. More moaning from Bridget, soft but antagonising too. To say Franky was aroused was an understatement - she was in between the legs of the most beautiful woman in the world, who she hasn't made love to for months. But her pleasure could wait. She flicked the tip of her tongue ever so softly over Bridget's clit, each touch making the blonde gasp. She tasted divine Franky thought, and she could feel the wetness pooling. Bridget's hands gripped the bedsheet and one side was pulled off as she tangled herself in them, the pleasure of the brunette's tongue intensifying by each stroke.
"I'm close," she panted.
Franky pushed one of Bridget's legs back and latched onto her clit a little harder, until she tumbled over the edge, Franky's name on her lips. She pulled Franky up to her, and kissed her while breathing heavily.
"To say I missed that would be an understatement!"
Franky chucked and smoothed Bridget's hair out of her eyes. She kissed her temple, not caring about her own pleasure right now. Bridget was so fucking beautiful, she thought, both inside and out, and she made herself a promise to never ever let her down again.
"Turn over, Gidge," the brunette ordered, but tenderness seeping out of her voice. Like the final piece of a jigsaw, when Bridget nudged herself close to Franky, it was just perfection, every time. Franky draped her arm over her girl's waist and pulled her that little bit closer. This was what she had missed more than anything. As amazing as making love to Bridget was, just to hold her close was even more intimate and that was what Franky had planned to do for the rest of the evening. Bridget took her hand and kissed it, before entwining her fingers with Franky's and allowing herself to fall asleep naturally, not alcohol-induced, high on the company she shared.
"Thank you for never giving up," Franky whispered. This was the real first day of the rest of her life, and instead of feeling scared at the prospect, she was looking forward to taking the next step by Bridget's side.