Title: All Wet
Author: Misty Flores
Summary: Joanne Jefferson's defined, in control life is turned upside down when she comes across one Maureen Johnson. PRE-RENT
Rating: M for adult situations between two females

Notes:-)

--

Chapter 13.

And then you know there comes a time
You need her more than anything
You may believe yours are the wounds
That only she can heal
Then everything will turn around
And she becomes so serious
What she chose to offer you
Was all that you could have
-- 'She Runs Away', by Duncan Sheik

Joanne had always been the odd duck. It was her father's observation, he told her that no matter what the situation, Joanne was different enough not to fit in. Her mother was more disturbed by this than he was, because she said there was only so much differentness that a person could take, and as a woman who was raised in high class, she knew the pressures of fitting in. But he always told her that Joanne was meant to be exceptional, and therefore, was doomed to never fit in, wherever she went.

Joanne wasn't sure about that. She had gone through a period of trying to fit in, but was always either too black, too rich, too gay, too conservative, too feminine, too butch, too liberal…

She was too much of too many things and in the end, she simply stopped trying to be anyone but herself.

In that, she could argue that she and Maureen were the same, because Maureen could never fit in. Maureen was made to stand out. She was beautiful and crude, eccentric and loud and she was at her brightest when she was the center of attention.

Maureen didn't care what anyone thought of her, or perhaps cared too much. As much as Joanne could foresee how something like that would exasperate her in the future, at the moment, she admired the fierce determination to be anything but what was to be expected.

Joanne's biggest fear was to be insignificant. Maureen's, it seemed, was to be unexceptional.

Joanne stared at the sleeping face, buried into her shoulder as the taxi driver jerked the wheel and turned down the upscale neighborhood street, and wondered if they really were that different at all.

Joanne was a pragmatic and not as sentimental as some of her girlfriends would have liked, but she found herself reaching forward with slender fingertips and tracing the line of the strong jaw, feeling the soft puff of rhythmic breathing against her neck, edging digits through dark brown curls, as if by doing so, she could memorize the face.

She had gotten used to Maureen. No, that wasn't true. Joanne wasn't sure she could ever get used to someone like Maureen. But she had come to accept her, enjoy her, and somehow, she couldn't quite acknowledge that this was the last day she could call Maureen her lover.

She had offered to back out of t his, uncharacteristically choosing another woman over her parents, suggesting to Maureen after their morning lovemaking that the day could be better spent elsewhere. A day trip to the beach. A walk through Central Park. A day in the country.

Instead, Maureen remained furiously determined to have lunch with her parents, and Joanne, not wanting to think on why Maureen was so bent on attending her parent's luncheon as her date, had taken her shopping for a change of clothing, as opposed to the same shirt and pants she had been wearing for the past three days.

Her Maureen was bohemian, that would never been ironed out of her, and smoothing over Maureen's new designer black jeans, it occurred to Joanne, she didn't want it to be.

Maureen's 'Marky' had called three times in as many days, and Maureen had taken the call each time, smooth and manipulative and still somehow sweet, and Joanne always left the room, unsure how Maureen could so obviously love her boyfriend and still crawl into her bed with her when she hung up the phone, pressing lips to her shoulder and wrapping arms around her waist.

"I'm not leaving him." The statement had been said at the beginning of all this, and Joanne knew it still stood.

And even now, though she knew that her life was much more simple, uncomplicated, and easier to manage without Maureen in it, she couldn't help but wonder if Maureen's mindset had changed at all.

No. Joanne grimaced and shifted in her seat, causing her sleeping companion to growl slightly in her sleep, snuggle in closer. Maureen was in this for the sex, the thrill, not the permanence. She could just imagine her response.

"What is it with lesbians and their U-hauls!" she would drawl, rolling her eyes and flipping her curls out of her hair. "We have today. Isn't that enough?"

No day but today. Joanne blinked, trying to remember where she had heard the phrase, why it had popped up then, until she remembered Hector, sitting at a café table, inviting her to an Aids support group meeting.

"No day but today," he murmured, shrugging into his coat. "That's their mantra. Makes an ironic sort of sense, doesn't it?"

Curling an arm tighter around Maureen, Joanne stared at the sleeping figure and glanced away, deciding that it, in fact, did.

--
"Your mother loves me," Maureen told her repeatedly, and it was a frustrating argument, however true it had once been, because however amused Joanne's parents were by Maureen's antics, that sentiment had gone distinctly sour the first time Maureen jumped on a table at their engagement party, threatened to flash the entire room, crawled over a pool table, and then became a fierce aggressor of their own break up.

Maureen always seemed to sense her frustration, and always answered with a smug smile, wrapping arms around her beloved and placing a peck of a kiss on Joanne's nose.

"She loved me once, she'll love me again," she said simply. "She's your mother, Pookie. The acorn doesn't fall far from the tree."

That had aroused such a horrible image Joanne visibly blanched, and Maureen's laughter was loud and joyous, and despite herself, Joanne fell in love with her all over again.

Like always.

--

"Your mother loves me," Maureen told her over a glass of champagne, wearing an amazingly proud smirk over her bright red lips. "She said she thinks I'm interesting."

Joanne tipped some more liquor into her mouth, spared from having to answer when she let it rest, considering the fact that her mother found many things 'interesting', and it wasn't necessarily a good thing.

Still, Maureen was expecting some sort of response, and so she swallowed down the champagne and managed a pleasing smile. "Well, you're anything but dull."

That earned her an unusually bright smile, as Maureen wrapped an arm around her and pulled in, bringing Joanne flush against her chest, pressing a searing kiss against her mouth.

Released just as quickly, Joanne nearly tipped over her glass, cheeks burning bright red as she immediately began to glance around her, catching the eye of her father and mother, among other guests at the country club.

Seemingly oblivious to Joanne flustered reaction, Maureen happily took another swill over her champagne and dropped it on the nearest water's tray. "I'm gonna mingle. You coming?"

Pressing her palm against the back of her neck, Joanne shook her head mutely. "I'll catch up," she mumbled, and Maureen seemed happy to leave her behind, heading straight for the bar.

Sighing, Joanne contemplated the afternoon thus far, and decided that, since there had been no catastrophes, and her father genuinely seemed to be pleased with Maureen's eccentricities (which was surprising, but her father was always surprising, and truthfully, Joanne was sure he was so partial to Maureen because her mother was obviously befuddled and he liked to be contrary every once in a while); it had so far been as successful as it would ever be.

"God, Joanne," she whispered to herself, raising the glass to her lips. "You're not going to see her again after today."

She watched as the older couples waltzed their way across the small space given to dancing, the small string quartet in the corner putting forth a jaunty tune.

"Well, are you two the cutest," came a voice, interjected so quietly and so close to her Joanne nearly shrieked, jerking and splashing a musing Cindy with champagne. "Holy shit, Joanne!"

Her friend, who seemed to have magically appeared at her elbow, was now wiping the droplets off her expensive blouse, shooting her a dark glare in the process.

"What the hell are you doing here?" It wasn't the most polite start to the conversation, but Joanne found herself entirely too frazzled to care. One eye on Maureen, who was now fully engaged in what seemed to be flirting with the waitress and speaking to her mother at the same time, she distractedly handed her mangled cocktail napkin to Cindy.

"Nice to see you too!" mumbled her friend, rolling her eyes and snatching the napkin. "Our parents became friends, or have you forgotten that much about our relationship?"

Cindy's bitterness increased significantly with every drink, and Joanne guessed she had already had more than one.

Honestly, it was getting tiring.

"You never come," she told her frankly. "Even when we were together, you said you'd rather-"

"-yeah, yeah," Cindy mumbled, bringing her sleeve to her nose, sniffing it for any leftover champagne smell. "I said I'd rather suck dick. Screw it, I got curious."

Eyes closing in silent frustration, Joanne slid hands into the pocket of her slacks to keep them from visibly curling. Cindy was a damn good lawyer, and it was because she went after her opponents with the viciousness of a predator on the Serengeti.

"Behave," Joanne mumbled under her breath, reaching for another glass of champagne as Cindy's eyes narrowed in on Joanne's lover across the floor. "Megan's not here to mediate and I really don't feel like putting up with your drunken bitterness bullshit."

"Joanne, seriously, what is this? You said you didn't want her, and the next thing I know she's living with you. You said she wasn't coming, and look, here she is." Cindy waved her hand emphatically toward Maureen, inadvertently catching her eye in the process. Pressing her lips together, Joanne kept silent, managing a thin smile for her lover.

"I don't remember this being any of your business, Cindy."

"Joanne, I'm being a friend here."

"No, you're being my bitter ex, and I'm not in the mood."

Her gaze was on Maureen, watching as her lover made her way back to her, until Cindy failed to respond. Turning back, she discovered cold eyes, and a trembling mouth. "Is that all you think I'm doing? Listen to me, Joanne. This whole party? People have been talking. They think you're slumming. At work? People are talking – your coworker Nicky? He's making people think you've got a reputation for banging worthless actresses, and you only got the Suddleson case because you're banging Antonia too. It's not enough that you spend sixty percent of your time doing pro bono work that no one gives a damn about. Now you're taking your work home with you. Your reputation is slipping, and your little fling is taking you down with her."

Maureen had to have been close, and Cindy, as much as she was trying to be quiet, had risen her voice in her anger. She could feel the eyes that were sinking into them, curious elders absorbed in drama, and for once, Joanne could give a flying fuck.

Coming forward, Joanne met the glare head on, blood boiling, eyes piercing into her friend's angry gaze.

"Enough. You've said your opinion and I've heard it. And you know what?" she breathed, coming forward closer. "I don't give a damn. I don't care what Nicky thinks. And right now, I don't care what you think. You're not sleeping with her, I am. I'm making my own choices, and you don't have to agree with them, but God Damn, Cindy, you have to respect them, and you will respect her. Or you can damn well count on me being out of your life for good." Slamming her glass down, she turned away, ready to catch Maureen and move her away from an impending confrontation with her now sputtering friend.

But she stalled, and her steps faltered, when she realized Maureen was no longer in the room.

--

"Looking for someone?"

It was her father who caught her outside the country club's restaurant, holding a champagne glass in his hand and looking debonair and amused, his usual expression for these types of events.

Swallowing, Joanne rubbed awkwardly at her neck, suddenly more than aware of the scene she had thrown in front of at least twenty of her father's nearest and dearest colleagues.

"Hi," she managed, stepping forward awkwardly. "You haven't seen my guest, have you?"

"Maureen?" When she nodded, he nodded back, motioning in the direction of the far-east game room at the end of the hallway. "She went that way."

Blowing out her breath, she nodded politely and cleared her throat. "Thank you."

There was a moment of silence, as if she was expecting some sort of reprimand, before her father merely smiled and she was dismissed. Turning to leave, she was caught by surprise when her father simply said, "I like this one, Joanne."

Blinking, she paused, nearly cracking her heel in the process, as she turned and looked up her father.

"We're talking about the actress," Joanne confirmed, coming back with a step into the plush carpet. "The one that complimented Mother on her extensions when she wasn't wearing any? The one who said the best movie she had ever seen was Desperately Seeking Susan?"

He shrugged, as if amused by the thought. "She challenges you, Joanne. And it's the first time in a while I've seen some spark come out of you that isn't influenced by your work."

Her father was a man of few words, and so he simply toasted her, and pressed a kiss to her cheek, rounding her to head back into the restaurant, leaving her completely stunned.

--

She found Maureen perched on the pool table, massaging a stick suggestively, laughing with the William's boy, Matthew.

Taking a moment to take in the scene, Joanne wondered why it didn't bother her, to see Maureen's hand linger at the buttons of Matthew's shirt, leaning in just a little too far, laughing just a little too loud. Maybe it was just that – Maureen was trying too hard, and for once, there seemed to be a smile there that didn't reach her eyes.

Coming forward, she crossed arms and stepped into the game room, offering Matthew a polite smile before interrupting, eyes on Maureen. "Can I speak to you please?"

Mouth still pulled into an almost frightening smile, Maureen arched an eyebrow, swinging booted heels against the table. "Where's your friend?"

"Drinking herself into stupidity." That at least, managed to bring back the beginning of a glimmer in those usually shimmering orbs, and Joanne felt the tightness in her chest ease slightly. "Matthew, would you give us a second."

When Maureen simply shrugged, Matthew shook his head, punching Joanne's shoulder softly in that white guy fraternity way.

"Oww."

Maureen smiled thinly, opening her legs so that her knees pressed in lightly at Joanne's hips. Hands smoothed over her waist and then settled on her shoulders, and Joanne found herself suddenly relieved when Maureen's forehead fell against hers, eyelids fluttering against her cheek.

"This place blows," Maureen whispered reverently, and Joanne suddenly snorted, nearly cracking their heads together. "Seriously. Even the dancing sucks."

"The dancing does not suck," Joanne murmured, matching Maureen's widening grin with one of her own.

"Watching a bunch of old fogies stumble their way across the dance floor qualifies as sucking, Joanne. Even the music sucks."

The music, wafting in from the speakers above the door, was a particular favorite of Joanne's. A tango, 'Por Una Cabeza'.

She wasn't in the mood to argue, and so she simply, gently, extricated herself from Maureen's arms and stepped back, holding onto one hand. "Come here."

Maureen was definitely unsure where she was going, but always up for a challenge, her lover followed her, stepping into her embrace as Joanne straightened her shoulders and assumed a tight hold.

"Just follow me."

It was difficult at first, until Maureen began to trust her to lead, and then Joanne began a gentle, basic tango, eyes always on Maureen's, moving her gently with pushes and pulls, around the pool table.

The surprise in Maureen's eyes was evident, and never one to purely follow, Maureen began to add her own wild edge to the dance, as Joanne's basic framework became a playground for them both. There was a skip there, a wobble once in a while, but her form was steady and somehow, they made it work. Soon Maureen was laughing, and when Joanne led her into a firm dip, Maureen's eyes darkened, held her gaze steadily. Suddenly, Maureen's arm slipped over her neck, her head rose and their lips clung together, moaning into the sweetest kiss Joanne had ever experienced from Maureen.

Soft lips brushed against her own as they were trying to paint a word across her mouth, and Joanne was breathless, when Maureen broke the kiss slowly, tracing her thumb over the area that had just been so savored.

"Let's get out of here," Maureen whispered roughly.

--

They went to a dance club, filled with woman who gyrated to the music. In the crowd, Maureen was their queen, screaming at the top of her lungs wordless sounds of joy, voice carrying above the crowd to blend effortlessly into the music.

Joanne followed her willingly, unable to keep from touching Maureen, kissing Maureen, sweating with exertion as she danced like she hadn't danced in years, with loud throbbing music that broke into her skull and freed her soul.

In the midst of it all, at the height of her ecstasy, Maureen straddled her waist, grabbed hold of her head with two hands, and kissed her deeply, hungrily, as if it were for the very last time.

"I love you," Maureen told her in a soft, velvety, voice when they were naked and in her bed, so intertwined Joanne didn't know where she ended and Maureen began. Joanne, drugged with sleep, could do nothing but mumble incoherently in response.

The next morning, as the sunshine invaded her eyes and forced her to wrap around a pillow instead of a warm body, Joanne's senses came to her and she realized she was alone.

As fast as Maureen had jetted into her life and settled into her bed, Maureen had left it.

-- end chapter