The road to Sharon's parents' place wound along cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. At the base of the drive a gate stood sentry; Sharon pulled up and rolled down her window to punch a code into a security box. Brenda couldn't even see the house yet. She felt the palms of her hands grow clammy. She scraped them against the legs of her jeans. Brenda couldn't remember the last time she'd been so anxious - even asking Sharon out had caused more of a pleasant anticipatory nervousness than what she was feeling now, which was a sort of gut clenching, cold sweat thing that had her shifting uncomfortably in the passenger seat of the Jag.
The house came into view as the car climbed the slight incline past the gate - though Brenda couldn't decide if it was a mansion or a really big house, in a white-washed Spanish style complete with red tile roof. Sharon guided them around the looped driveway and pulled to a stop in front of a detached garage. Pushing her glasses back on her head, Sharon put the Jag in park and smiled encouragingly at Brenda before removing the keys from the ignition. With a wink, Sharon opened her door and climbed out of the car, feet still bare. (Apparently Sharon disliked driving long distances while wearing shoes as it made her toes feel pinched. Brenda thought it adorable.)
In the side mirror, Brenda saw the dark stained front door swing in and a tiny steely haired woman stump out on to the stoop, leaning heavily on a cane. Brenda took a fortifying breath, opened the car door, pushing it open, and stepped out on to the drive. She faced down murderers, rapists and the worst LA had to offer every day. She could face Sharon's parents.
Some of Brenda's anxiety fell away when she approached the stoop and heard Sharon's mother upbraiding her soundly for her bare feet.
"You would have made me take my boots off before I came in the house anyway," Sharon groused.
"That doesn't mean you shouldn't wear shoes outside in November, Sharon Marie. And driving six and a half hours in your bare feet!" Brenda snickered, taking in her normally confident girlfriend's thoroughly teenage, slump-shouldered posture; Sharon turned sneered playfully at her before catching her hand and pulling her forward.
"Brenda Leigh, this is my mother, Margery." Sharon's arm tucked itself around Brenda's waist, fingers tucking into the hip pocket of her jeans. "Mom, this is Brenda Johnson."
"Nice to meet you, ma'am" Brenda said, accent at its broadest. She couldn't help it - nerves made her sound like more of a hick than usual. She extended her hand and Margery clasped it tightly, and Brenda found herself looking into familiar green eyes in surprisingly unlined face, considering that Sharon's mother was pushing ninety. Brenda suspected that if Margery wasn't dependent on her cane to stand, she would be on the receiving end of a hug.
"Sharon's told us a lot about you, Brenda." Margery's smile was something else her daughter had inherited. Brenda smiled back reflexively - a Pavlovian response to the well-loved expression. "I'm glad she's done keeping you all to herself." Brenda caught Sharon's exaggerated eye-roll even out of the corner of her eye.
"Don't roll your eyes at your mother, Sharon Marie," Margery said without missing a beat. "Why don't you girls get your bags and come on in the house. Donald's camped out in front of the television waiting for some football game to start." She turned and thumped back into the house, leaving the door ajar behind her.
Brenda tucked both of their cellphones into her pockets before taking charge of their garment bag - and Sharon's boots. Sharon extended the handle of their suitcase and matched her pace across the drive.
"Are you ok?" Sharon asked softly, face and voice concerned.
"I'm fine, Shari. Just a little nervous, 's all."
The interior of the house was surprising informal. Dark wood floors and exposed beams in the high ceilings contrasted with the warmly painted walls - the palette was very similar to Sharon's home and put Brenda a little more at ease. She tossed Sharon's boots into a pile of shoes inside the door that Sharon pointed out.
"No hard soles on the wood floors." Sharon told her. "Mom's rules." Brenda snorted at her and toed off her cloggy half boots into the messy pile.
"Now I know why you never fail to take your shoes off more than two feet from the door," she teased. And god help her, but Sharon stuck her tongue out at the blonde.
"Don't stick your tongue out at your girlfriend, Sharon Marie," Brenda admonished in the same tone that Sharon's mother had used. Sharon smirked and placed their bag at the foot of the stairs and took the garment bag from Brenda and folded it over the railing, then preceded farther into the house.
The Raydor kitchen, dining room and den were arrayed along the back of the house, overlooking the ocean through a succession of French doors and tall windows. Natural light streamed into the space, and Brenda suspected that for much of the day, lamps and overhead lights were completely unnecessary. The den and dining room opened into the kitchen through two wide arches. To her left, Brenda caught the flicker of a television, and followed Sharon towards it.
Sharon's father was stretched out on the longest leather couch that Brenda Leigh had ever seen, though the lean man took up nearly every inch of that length. He swung his legs out and sat up slowly when they entered the room, but his eyes remained glued to the TV. Two football teams were lining up to face one another - college teams, judging by the marching band occupying a large swath of sideline.
"Dad," Sharon chided, and Mr. Raydor paused the game and pushed himself off the couch and shuffled over to hug his daughter. He was tall - well over six feet, even stooped with age - and silver haired with craggy features and gray blue eyes. Aside from the hunched back and shuffle and a pair of hearing aids, he could have been anywhere between the ages of 65 and 100.
"Sharon, sweetheart." He boomed in a warm baritone, releasing Sharon from the embrace. "And Ms. Brenda Johnson, I presume." He tipped an imaginary hat at Brenda before clasping her offered hand in both of his large ones.
"Brenda, this is my dad, Donald Raydor." Sharon said rather formally, though she snugged an arm around Brenda's waist. Brenda smiled up at the man.
"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Raydor, sir." Brenda said politely.
"Please, Brenda, call me Don, or Donald or Big Don. I don't put much stock in formality these days." He cocked an eyebrow at Sharon - another familiar expression, especially considering Don shared Sharon's expressive mouth and high cheekbones. "Sharon, I don't think I blame you for keeping her all to yourself for a while," he remarked slyly. Sharon flushed scarlet and Brenda chuckled. It was never easy getting teased by one's parents, especially in front of one's lover.
"Maybe I was the one keeping Sharon to myself, sir," Brenda joked, hoping to ease Sharon's embarrassment at least a little. Sharon bumped her hip against Brenda's gently and smirked.
Donald beamed at them and limped back to the couch and eased himself down, Sharon followed to settle herself on the smaller sofa at right angles to the massive one and Brenda took a seat next to her, trying not to appear stiff, sitting with her hands on her knees. Brenda was unsure about how much affection Sharon was comfortable with in front of her parents, so she would follow Sharon's lead. Sharon's lead was to pluck one of Brenda's hands from her knees and interlace their fingers, Brenda relaxed at the familiar warmth of Sharon's palm against hers. Brenda smiled sweetly at her and Sharon's mossy eyes twinkled back, their corners crinkled up in good humor.
Margery entered from parts unknown, thumping her way into the den to sit next to her husband.
"So girls," Margery inquired, "how was your drive? Sharon's bare feet didn't slip off the pedals and cause any traffic accidents?" Brenda chuckled, and shot Sharon an affectionate look. Apparently teasing was a sign of affection in the Raydor household, because Sharon was smiling.
"Awww, Shari. Your parents don't find your bare foot driving as charmin' and quirky as I do?" Brenda patted the brunette's denim clad thigh. Margery and Donald laughed.
"You know, Brenda Leigh, maybe joining in on my mother's dog pile isn't the best way to ingratiate yourself with my family, especially if you don't enjoy sleeping on the couch," Sharon snarked.
"You say that like I don't tease you all the time," said Brenda with a wink at Mr. and Mrs. Raydor. Sharon rolled her eyes at the blonde.
"It must be love, if Brenda can get our lovely daughter to roll her eyes with such vigor," Donald said sagely to his wife. They all chuckled.
Brenda spent a surprisingly relaxed half hour, at her lover's urging, recounting the story of her first meeting with Sharon to Sharon's amused parents. They didn't seem to begrudge the two of them their initial spats - in fact, they seemed pleased that Sharon had found someone who could give as good as she got from the brunette.
After Brenda finished her story, Sharon picked up the narration with the details of some of their more recent doings, including her new friendship with Marcus (the two of them exchanged regular emails - sometimes Brenda contributed a tidbit or a hello) and the details of Brenda's recent move. Donald and Margery especially enjoyed the story of Sharon using the Jaguar's alarm to scare the stuffing out of Brenda's squad, laughing uproariously at the image of a bunch of tough cops startled by a mysteriously triggered fire alarm.
"You have your mama's laugh, Shari," Brenda said softly to her love, whose green eyes were dancing with mirth. She turned a little to face Sharon and caught up a tendril of Sharon's thick, beautiful hair around one of her fingers. "It's also nice to know I won't have to worry about you baldin' on me any time soon," she whispered, leaning in a little closer. Sharon barked out a laugh and kissed Brenda on the temple.
Dinner was a delicious smelling vegetable chili that was simmering in a crockpot on the granite counter of the spacious kitchen. Brenda and Sharon set the table, under the circumspect eye of Margery, then Sharon popped the pre-prepared cheesy bread into the oven. She set the timer on the oven and a corresponding timer on her phone.
"I'm going to show Brenda Leigh the pool and the back yard before the sun sets," Sharon said, pulling Brenda towards the French doors that led to the glass enclosed indoor pool.
"Put a sweater on, Sharon," Margery said absently, absorbed in the latest edition of Time.
"We're going outside for five minutes, mom," scoffed Sharon and Brenda giggled.
The pool wasn't huge - maybe a little bigger than the one in Sharon's back yard - and was enclosed by glass in a fashion that reminded Brenda of a very nice green house. As if confirming Brenda's assessment, landscaping and potted plants dot the red brick decking, adding life to the space. A large hot tub peeked up above the edge of the pool, and Brenda imagined that it would offer a even better view of the not-so-distant Pacific than merely standing on the deck commanded. The ocean stretched out along the horizon, blue-green and dotted with foam, the setting sun spreading like flame across it's surface.
"My, this is lovely," Brenda breathed. "How did you ever move away from here?"
"Oh, I don't know, Los Angeles has its charms," answered Sharon.
"Smog and crime and unbearable summer heat. A veritable paradise," the blonde drawled, leveling a droll stare at Sharon, who laughed.
"So is this your way of telling me you wouldn't mind coming up here for a week during the miserable months of July and August?"
"I think," Brenda purred, "you could twist my arm." She used their clasped hands to pull Sharon into her and tilted her chin for a kiss.
Margery felt like a bit of a snoop watching her daughter and her daughter's lover out of the corner of her eye, but she was curious. Other than a single dinner with a woman named Helena, the last time Margery had seen Sharon interact with a significant other in a positive manner was with her ex-husband, before their relationship had turned sour. Even in better times, her daughter was stilted with Kellan, stiff and wary and not very affectionate. With Brenda, the opposite was true. Brenda and Sharon were always in one another's personal space, touching and smiling and generally acting smitten. Margery watched Brenda slid her arms around Sharon's neck and bring their lips together. Sharon smiled (actually smiled) into the kiss, and Margery blushed, but couldn't look away. Brenda was certainly a beautiful woman who clearly adored her daughter. Her professional reputation, both from the news and from Sharon directly, was quite extraordinary, though Margery had seen no trace of that devious interrogator - just a sweet woman with a ready laugh who was a bit nervous about meeting her girlfriend's parents.
Margery realized that many people of her generation, even of younger generations, would take issue with Sharon's sexuality, and even though Margery had been uneasy with it at first due to unfamiliarity, observing the weight lift from Sharon's shoulders as came to this reckoning within herself had made Margery determined to be supportive and accepting. And it had been fine and easy, listening to her sharply sarcastic child recount tales of her forays into a new world of dating. The real turning point for Margery had come when Kellan reacted with venom and with a strange bigoted jealousy to Sharon's new relationship with a young school teacher named Helena. She had found herself thinking: 'How dare that bastard persecute her only child and make her grandchildren's lives hell because of this?' She'd been enraged, debating placing a few phone calls that would put Kellan's job in jeopardy, but Donald had convinced her to exercise restraint, that this was a battle Sharon had to fight herself, a loss that Kellan needed to suffer at his ex-wife's hands, not at Donald and Margery's.
So she had stepped back and watched as Sharon's relationship with Helena had imploded due to Kellan's idiocy, watched as Margot (responsible for Kellan's knowledge of Helena in the first place), became more and more disrespectful of a mother that had repeatedly bent over backwards to shield her children from the crap their father was pulling in the courts and in Sharon's professional life, not to mention shielding them from the rampant infidelity that had precipitated the divorce in the first place.
But now there was Brenda, and Sharon was happy and lighter than Margery had seen her since girlhood. Next to the pool, Brenda pulled her lips away from Sharon's and brought their foreheads together. Eyes still closed, Sharon smiled again, blissfully, and Margery smiled too, then turned back to her magazine.
Brenda started awake in a familiar position in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. No light filtered through the window that, during daytime, looked out onto the Pacific. She was tucked up against Sharon's side, who was sprawled on her back in the center of the enormous mattress. Brenda's head was on Sharon's shoulder, something the brunette insisted didn't cause her any discomfort. She shifted a little, turning her head to press her nose into the bare skin of Sharon's chest, inhaling her distinctive scent. When they were preparing for bed, it had amused Brenda that Sharon would sleep in the nude even at her parents' house, but truthfully, she was grateful for it.
Sharon twitched in her sleep and grumbled: "Mmmmmphhrummphhh." Then she sighed and pulled Brenda closer to her. Brenda translated that as 'go back to sleep', so she shut her eyes and concentrated on evening out her breathing, slipping back into a dream world that was strikingly similar to her reality.
When she woke again, Brenda was alone, spread eagle on her stomach in the middle of the bed. She lifted her head and scrubbed a fist against her eyes. Sunlight streamed through the large bank of windows and Brenda groaned and stretched; her stomach growled ferociously. Rolling out of bed, she contemplated the door to the bathroom. Did she really want to shower before breakfast on her vacation? Not even a little, especially considering they were supposed to go out to dinner tonight after making the pies for tomorrow's dessert. Brenda would shower afterwards; no doubt she would feel gross after spending the afternoon in the kitchen.
From the suitcase resting on the large ottoman at the foot of the bed, Brenda removed a pair of Sharon's lounge pants and a cardigan. Her sleepwear - panties and the white t-shirt she had worn under her blazer the day before - didn't cover nearly enough for her to feel comfortable roaming around her lover's parents' house. Brenda pulled the clothing on, dragged her fingers through her hair and left the bedroom, closing the door behind her to hide the fact that she hadn't made the bed.
There was an unfamiliar woman at work in the kitchen, and Brenda found herself hovering awkwardly in the doorway, smelling the tantalizing odor of coffee, but unwilling to impinge on the domain of a stranger. The other woman smiled when she noticed Brenda poised in the entryway.
"Good morning. You must be Brenda. I'm Jules, the housekeeper." Jules' plump cheeks were pink from laboring over the stove, and her smile was merry and genuine. "Would you like some coffee?"
Brenda returned the smile shyly and finally stepped into the kitchen to lean against the large center island. "I would love some." Brenda almost protested when Jules stepped away from what she was doing to retrieve a mug from the cabinet over the coffee maker, then realized she had no idea were anything was located in the Raydors' large kitchen. Jules poured a generous measure of dark coffee into a large stoneware mug, leaving room at the top to add milk or creamer. She pushed the mug across the granite counter top into Brenda's eager hands.
"Milk and half and half are on the door of the fridge." Jules squinted and cocked her head, trying to remember something. "Oh, oh, oh!" She turned and stooped, opening a cabinet that concealed a Lazy Susan, rotating it to pull a bear-shaped bottle off the shelf.
"A little birdie told me that this is your sweetener of choice." Brenda took the bottle and smiled gratefully. She shouldn't be surprised that Sharon had made sure honey was available for her morning coffee, but she was, and she was touched, her heart swelling, and her cheeks flushing with a delicious warmth that matched the temperature of the mug against her palm.
"I'll have to thank that little birdie for her thoughtfulness," Brenda said, squeezing a very generous dollop of honey into the steaming beverage. She clicked the cap back into place on the bear's head and wrapped her hands around the mug. "Is Sharon in the pool?"
"Mmmmm, yes. She started her laps about thirty minutes ago. Donald and Margery are in the pool with their trainer." Jules covered the skillet with a shiny stainless steel lid and turned the heat down on the burner. "Breakfast will be ready by the time they're through."
"It smells delicious." The aroma of sausage and potatoes made Brenda's stomach gurgle in anticipation and Jules chuckled. She uncovered the serving dish on the warmer next to the range.
"Take a popover to tide you over. They're pumpkin." Brenda took one eagerly, and the paper towel that Jules offered with it.
"Thanks," she said around a mouthful of spicy pastry. Brenda picked up her mug and lifted it to the cook, who chuckled.
"I've heard about your appetite, missy. Why don't you go on in to the pool area and I'll come get you when the food is done."
Brenda settled herself on a lounge chair with her deliciously pumpkin-spiced popover and her perfectly prepared coffee and cast a satisfied eye on her girlfriend, completing a flip-turn at the far end of the pool. With her black racer-back tank suit and black swim cap and dark mirrored goggles, and the confident way she sliced through the water, Sharon made an athletic picture next to the slow moving trio doing a easy workout on the other side of the pool. Margery and Donald were following the motions of a well-built middle younger man in a sort of repetitive tai chi routine. The trainer had locked eyes with Brenda as she entered the room and kept glancing over her way in a manner that was completely obvious. Brenda ignored him, nibbling on her pastry and sipping her coffee, watching Sharon's steady progress and graceful turns.
Margery and Donald finished their workout before Sharon finished her laps and exited the pool using the broad stairs close to the chair where Brenda sat, the trainer assisting Donald up the stairs and on to the dry decking where his cane was propped against a table.
"Breakfast in twenty minutes?" Margery asked, shrugged on a plush looking terrycloth robe. "Or you can eat now if you're hungry."
"No ma'am, I'm okay to wait for ya'll."
"Alright then. Tell Sharon that if she doesn't make it to the table on time, I'll eat her sausage links."
"That's quite a threat. I'll be sure to let her know, but I would be wary of retaliation if you do," warned Brenda playfully.
"I can handle her," sassed the older woman, and she and Donald left, presumably to change.
The trainer made quite a show of drying himself at the lounger next to Brenda's, rubbing his towel over muscles he was flexing so hard she wouldn't be surprised if he stroked out. He was very young and very focused on showing off her physical prowess. Not surprised at how absolutely uninterested she was, Brenda rolled her eyes and popped the last of her snack into her mouth, washing it down with a sip of coffee. Sharon was making her cool down laps; her pace slow and measured.
Brenda was utterly unsurprised when the shadow of Mr. Trainer-guy fell over her chair. She resisted the urge to scowl, hiding her mouth behind her mug in case some displeasure leaked out.
"Hey, I'm John." He offered a large hand for her to shake, and Brenda took it delicately. She couldn't use her normal method of ducking unwanted attention - introducing herself as 'Deputy Chief Johnson' and flashing her gun or badge or both.
"Brenda." He flashed her what he probably thought was a charming smile despite the not particularly friendly tone of Brenda's voice.
"So, Brenda." John still hadn't relinquished Brenda's hand, and she tugged her fingers from his meaty paw. "Are you one of the cousins visiting for the holiday?" Brenda raised an eyebrow - that was an awfully forward and odd question.
"I'm not a relative, I'm Sharon's partner."
"Mr. and Mrs. Raydor mentioned that their daughter was a cop - it's nice that she invited you up to spend Thanksgiving with her family."
"That's not what I…," she tried to interrupt, but he bulled over Brenda's interdiction:
"Would you be interested in going out and having some fun with me while you're up here? There's a great club in Santa Cruz that's having a Black Friday Bash…" John left the end hanging, clearly expecting Brenda to accept his invitation.
"No, I don't think so," Brenda stated shortly. "And when I said partner, I didn't mean professionally. I mean I'm her fiancé." John chuckled and Brenda wanted to slap him.
"Please, I saw you looking at me," he remarked blithely, with the confidence of the very young and another grin.
Brenda snorted. "You were not the only person in that pool. Why don't you go on and vamoose before someone else witnesses your unprofessional behavior." John looked like he wanted to say something else, but he thought better of it, and lucky for him because Sharon was striding out of the pool and Brenda couldn't imagine she'd be ok with a person hired to help her parents' maintain mobility and good health hitting on someone while he was on their dime. Brenda narrowed her eyes at John and he moved away.
Sharon pulled off her goggles and peeled her cap from her head. Her ponytail sprang free even after nearly an hour crammed under the tight rubber cap. The sight made Brenda's breath catch a little - this was the only person she had eyes for.
"Good morning," Brenda purred. Sharon raised a wry eyebrow at her and bent to scoop the terry cloth robe from the foot of the lounger.
"Was he chatting you up?" Sharon shrugged into the robe and belted it securely.
"He was tryin'," grumped the blonde, making a petulant face that Sharon couldn't help but find adorable. "Boys." Sharon spritzed out a laugh and held out a hand to Brenda, pulling her to her feet.
"I was going to go change before breakfast, but you appear to be wearing my pants."
"You can have 'em back. I brought sweats."
Sharon fisted a hand in the soft wool of Brenda's cardigan and pulled her in for a kiss. She supposed it was a little immature and possessive, but she was doing more than just staking her claim. A good morning kiss was necessary for the beginning of every day, and as Sharon lost herself in the taste of Brenda Leigh and feel of her tongue and lips and the solidity of her body, the rest of the world faded away to nothing.
When Sharon and Brenda separated, the trainer had gathered up his things and left. Sharon felt smug and it must have shown on her face because Brenda gave her a knowing look.
"Your mama said if you're late for breakfast, she's gonna eat your helping of sausage, so you best go get changed."
"Pish. Like Jules isn't on my side. She'll save me a few links." Sharon reached out and tucked a curl behind Brenda's ear. "Come up with me - I need my pants and I have something for you."
"If you insist, but you're nuts if you think you're gettin' these pants back."
The room that Brenda and Sharon were occupying on the second floor was the former master suite. It was huge, and the bathroom proportionally as large, featuring a jacuzzi tub and a shower stall more than big enough for two.
Sharon reached into the suitcase and pulled out a polo shirt and another pair of the soft knit pants, like the ones that Brenda had appropriated for herself. Brenda tried to muster some joking outrage for the bit of trickery, but faking indignation as Sharon peeled her wet swim suit from her heavy, cream-pale breasts was beyond Brenda's skill.
As Sharon padded naked into bathroom to hang up her swim suit, Brenda flopped back onto the bed with a sigh. She tried not to think thoughts that would necessitate a change of underwear. It was too bad that Brenda was hungry, or she'd keep Sharon in bed all day, to hell with what anyone else would think.
Thoughts of naked Pope kept Brenda's mind away from sex with Sharon, as she stared up at the high ceiling and listened to the sounds of Sharon rinsing the pool water from her swim suit. Life wasn't fair - on vacation and she couldn't fuck her girlfriend whenever she wanted. Even though she really wanted to.
The mattress dipped. Sharon crawled onto the bed and straddled Brenda, resting her weight lightly on the cradle of Brenda's hips, one hand hidden behind her back. She was gloriously, decadently nude. Her breasts swung as she settled into place on top of Brenda, nipples tightly furled. Brenda ached to reach up and cup that abundant flesh; instead she clutched at the sheets.
"My god you are such a terrible tease, Sharon Raydor."
"Who says I'm teasing?" Sharon countered, resting more of her weight on Brenda, the heat of her body leeching through the thin layer of Brenda's clothes.
Brenda released her stranglehold on the bed linens, palms damp from the strength of her grip. She brought her hands to the curve of Sharon's waist, playing her fingers along the smooth skin of her hips.
"You really wanna skip breakfast, baby?"
"Mmmmmm," husked Sharon, rolling her hips a little. She removed the hand from behind her back and presented Brenda with a brown leather jewelry box, sized for a ring, and embossed with the initials 'BR'.
"My word," Brenda gasped. "You work fast, Ms. Raydor."
"Open it." Brenda took the box with slightly shaking fingers and flipped open the lid. Inside was a engagement ring, diamonds and platinum. Brenda took it from it's place in the cushion - the ring was heavy, solid feeling. A loop of platinum studded with dozens of tiny stones circled the larger center stone, like a button through a button hole. The band had a slight patina of age, and it's inner face was worn smooth, nearly obscuring the maker's stamp. 'Van Cleef & Arpels' was faintly visible etched into the metal.
"Oh Sharon, it's beautiful."
"It was my Grandmother's. My father's mother." With cool fingers she took the ring from Brenda and grasped the blonde's left hand. She slipped the band onto Brenda's ring finger and pushed slightly to get it over the knuckle. It settled comfortably at the at the base of her finger. Brenda shivered again at the feeling of the cool metal around her finger, and the delicate press of Sharon's lips on the back of her hand.
Brenda surged up, cradling Sharon's face in her hands, and claimed Sharon's mouth with her own. A surge of possessiveness turned the kiss into a fierce embrace, clinging to one another, Brenda's head supported by the curve of Sharon's neck.
"God, I love you," Brenda whispered.
"I love you, too, Brenda Leigh," murmured Sharon, a hitch in her voice.
It was two tranquil, relaxed women that entered the kitchen, holding hands. The immediacy of Brenda's desire for Sharon had faded, and now she wanted to pull the brunette back into bed just to curl up with her - to hold her and be held. Brenda wanted to be physically close to the woman who had given her a piece of her family history to wear on her finger.
Donald and Margery were seated and eating, and Jules was perched on a stool at the island, reading aloud from an iPad - some sort of news article about state politics. Everyone paused and looked up when Sharon and Brenda walked in.
"Here they are. Sharon, you're too late," Margery sassed her daughter. "I've already eaten all the sausage."
"If you ate all that sausage, I expect you to keel over any minute now. And like Jules doesn't always save me a few links."
Jules rolled her eyes. "You're not supposed to let on you have an inside man, Sharon. Aren't you supposed to be good at police work." She pointed at the two empty plates. "I saved some links for Brenda - you'll have to negotiate with her for some. Go ahead and serve yourselves."
Brenda filled her plate with generous helpings of hash brown potatoes, sausage (of which there was plenty for both Sharon and Brenda), tomatoes and warm fruit compote. "Is your family always so territorial about their breakfast meats? Should I count my fingers next time we have bacon?"
"Your fingers are safe, only my mother needs to worry." Sharon dished herself a rather larger portion of starches then she would eat at home. She also took a popover. Brenda liked Sharon's little indulgences - maybe later they could find a way to burn off all this rich food. In bed. Perhaps with that toy that Sharon had stuck in one of the zippered pockets of their suitcase.
Brenda took their plates to the table while Sharon poured a glass of juice for Brenda and a cup of coffee for herself. Taking the seat across from Donald, Brenda left the foot of the table to Sharon, so she could stare down her mother as she enjoyed her sausage.
Margery noticed the ring as soon as Brenda picked up her fork. "You asked her!" She crowed, eyes shining. Brenda shoveled a large bite of potatoes in her mouth and chewed, casting a sidelong glance at Sharon, stirring sugar into her coffee.
"I actually asked her a few days ago, mom." Sharon sat the tumbler of orange juice next to Brenda and took her seat. "I've graciously agreed to let Brenda marry me." Margery laughed.
"Mmmmmmm, maybe I shouldn't have shared my sausage with you," Brenda warned sweetly.
"You tell her, Brenda," Jules chimed in. "Withholding sausage is always a good play." Brenda couldn't help it - she giggled at the sausage jab. She grabbed for Sharon's hand, the weight of the ring on her finger unfamiliar, and yet a comfort. She smiled at Margery and Donald.
"You raised a very gracious woman, though sometimes she hides it well." Everyone laughed, and Brenda squeezed Sharon's hand, and the brunette shot her an affectionate glance, mossy eyes lambent.
Brenda and Sharon helped cleared the breakfast dishes, but Jules wouldn't let them do anymore than that. Donald and Margery wandered away, off to their own business and to enjoy the last of the quiet before the family descended on the house in a few hours. Sharon wanted to do the same.
"Let's go down to the boathouse and watch the water," she whispered, nuzzling at the fine, golden hair of Brenda's temple.
"That sounds nice." Brenda relaxed into the soft strength of Sharon. "Let me run up and get my shoes and use the restroom."
"Grab my moccasins, would you. Do you want coffee to bring outside?"
"No, I think I'm alright on caffeine for now." Brenda kissed Sharon on the cheek, just under the arch of her cheekbone. "I'll be right back." She separated from Sharon reluctantly and turned towards the stairs.
Brenda pushed the home button on her phone. There was a new message from Charlie.
FROM: Charlie
Holidays are boring without you. Though Grandpa is grumping about it.
Brenda snorted. Her father didn't want to talk to her, but still complained about her not flying to Atlanta for the holiday. Even excepting Sharon's invitation, Brenda hadn't fancied spending Thanksgiving enduring her father's cold shoulder and her mother's meddling.
Moving to the window to take advantage of the natural light, Brenda opened the camera on her phone. Extending her fingers, Brenda snapped a picture of her ring. She had exchanged emails with Charlie since their first conversation about Sharon, but hadn't told her about Sharon's proposal. Her niece would appreciate a picture of diamonds and platinum more than Brenda gushing about her incredibly thoughtful and romantic Captain Raydor.
She attached the photo to a message and added: Sometimes good things happen when you piss off your parents. Don't take that as an endorsement, though.
Brenda abandoned the phone back on the nightstand and shoved her feet into her own slippers. She gathered up Sharon's mocs and the books that they'd brought with them, just in case.
Sharon waited in the kitchen for Brenda, a fleece blanket purloined from the den thrown over her shoulder. Jules was working assembling platters of sandwiches for the family due in a few hours. She would make lunch, be sure the guest bedrooms were ready and then she would go be with her own family until Saturday. Not that every year she and her family weren't invited to spend the holiday with the Raydors - she had been working for the family for more than twenty years, had gotten certified as a nurse's aid when Donald's health troubles had surfaced, her children and grandchildren socialized with and went to school with Sharon's cousins. Sharon suspected that the problem was Jules was unable to be anything other than completely in control of the kitchen when she was in the house. Raydor family meals were prepared by many hands; it was a tradition, and it made for some interesting dishes. Jules, educated at the Culinary Institute of America, although she was generous enough to do some housekeeping duties, would be appalled by the food they ate on Thanksgiving.
The boathouse was a simple shed, used for the storage of a few jet skis and other boating equipment, at the base of a short quay. A boat lift sat forlorn and empty at the end of the concrete structure, which was dotted with all-weather furniture. It was chilly on the water, and the salt smell of the sea air pricked Brenda's nostrils. Sharon led her to a deck chair, slung the blanket around her shoulders and sat, arms open, inviting Brenda to sit and lean against her. Brenda dropped the books on the ground and took her place in Sharon's arms.
"Tell me about your grandmother," Brenda asked, spinning the ring on her left hand, feeling the diamonds dig into the pad of her thumb.
"Her name was Beatrice. She was an extraordinary woman - helped manage the finishing factories while my grandfather dealt with the business as a whole. And during the war, she trained hundred of women on the looms. She liked to keep in practice on the machines. She could restring and reload a machine faster than most of the men that worked on them."
"Beatrice and my grandfather, Sean, were married for more than 60 years. She never took that ring off, or her wedding band, even after he passed."
"Beatrice and Sean?" Brenda shivered. Her Captain was so romantic.
"It seemed appropriate."
"Mushball," cooed Brenda, and craned her neck back for a kiss. Sharon didn't disappoint, capturing her mouth eagerly, tracing the curve of Brenda's upper lip with a gentle tongue.
In the tight cocoon of the blanket and Sharon's arms, Brenda turned to face her. The width of the chair was enough that Brenda could fit her knees comfortably on either side of Sharon's hips. She pressed herself to Sharon, bringing their noses together. "Hey," she breathed.
"Hello," Sharon whispered, her breath puffing across Brenda's lips. They kissed again, and it was sweet and easy and yet didn't fail to ratchet up Brenda's desire.
"Mmmmmmmm," she hummed, worming her fingers under Sharon's shirt to let them dance over the soft skin just above the waistband of her drawstring pants. Back and forth, back and forth, she trailed lazy patterns over Sharon's sensitive stomach as they kissed.
When they were both panting heavily, hips moving unconsciously with the pace of their kisses, Brenda pulled at the tie of Sharon's pants.
"Are we really going to do this here?" Sharon asked breathlessly, though she moaned when Brenda scratched at the wiry hairs on her mound.
"Should I stop?" Brenda didn't move her hand, but leaned in to suck Sharon's earlobe into her mouth. Sharon's answer in the negative came out as another moan. Brenda grinned and drew one finger up the length of Sharon's clit. "Scooch your hips forward a little, baby." Sharon obeyed and Brenda repeated the motion along the velvety soft lips of Sharon's sex. Brenda parted her and stroked once, to coat two of her fingers in the silk of Sharon's arousal. Then Brenda entered her with those two fingers. She swallowed the gasp that erupted from Sharon's mouth with a fierce kiss - unable to stop her own shudder at the feel of Sharon surrounding her fingers.
"You feel so good, Shari," Brenda purred against Sharon's lips.
"I do feel good, thanks," she joked, voice cracking just a bit.
"Oh, you're a comedian now, are you?" growled Brenda, using her thumb to thrum Sharon's clit.
"Of course not - oh god," Sharon gasped, "please, Brenda Leigh." Her hips jerked up into Brenda's hand, seeking more contact. Brenda ghosted her thumb over the brunette's clit again.
"Please what, Sharon?"
"Please, please fuck me," Sharon begged. Brenda smiled beatifically at her and did so. The addition of an extra finger made Sharon groan and Brenda used the curve of her fingers and the pad of her thumb to manipulate Sharon's most sensitive spots - Brenda wasn't so much fucking Sharon as she was rubbing firmly, but that didn't seem to matter to Sharon, whose eyes were half-lidded and rolled back, her jaw slack with pleasure, her arms still cradling Brenda, keeping them cocooned in the blanket.
"You're so beautiful like this, Sharon," Brenda murmured in to the brunette's delicate ear, nose buried in the wealth of shiny hair. Even though she was making love to Sharon, she acutely missed the sensation of bare (or mostly bare) skin on skin; Brenda had to satisfy herself with a little dirty talk instead of reveling in the rest of Sharon's body.
"Sometimes, all I can think about is being inside you, or putting my mouth on you - it's like time stops, like the earth ceases to rotate and there's only you and my overwhelming desire to make love to you, to make you come for me." Brenda traced the curve of Sharon's ear with her tongue, and Sharon whimpered.
"Are you close? Are you going to come for me, Shari?"
"Oh god, Brenda." Sharon was writhing, her hips chasing the pace of Brenda's hand. "Harder." Brenda obliged; her thumb working frantically on the stiff nodule. She could feel the first flutters of Sharon's orgasm around her fingers, her internal muscles pulsing, gripping Brenda's fingers with an intense pressure.
"Come for me, baby," Brenda cooed. "Come for me." And she did. Her whole body tensed, and her hips arched up off the wood of the chair, teeth worrying her bottom lip. She grunted her pleasure into the ocean tanged air, an animalistic noise that made Brenda's own hips jerk.
Brenda kept up her attentions as Sharon came down from her orgasm, milking the last bits of pleasure from the brunette's body. Then she was still, face serene, body relaxed. Brenda dropped a kiss on her temple, uncricked her wrist, and slipped her fingers from the warmth and wet of Sharon's body, folding her fingers into the palm of her hand to keep from fouling Sharon's clothes. She wiped them on her own t-shirt, then leaned in to rest her head on Sharon's chest, listening to the frantic rhythm of her fiancé's heart.
"Mmmmmmmm," Sharon hummed, and the sound reverberated under Brenda's ear, and her arms tightened around Brenda's body. "That was lovely. And unexpected."
"Well what did you expect, giving me that ring, all naked and gorgeous. You're lucky I let you out of the bedroom." Sharon chuckled.
"Can I return the favor?" Brenda tilted her head up and captured Sharon's lips - she was so generous and willing and Brenda melted against her.
"Later? I really want to feel your skin on mine, baby."
"I think we can manage that, Brenda Leigh." Sharon chuckled again.
"What's funny?"
"You know, I'd never so much as made out on this dock before today." Brenda snorted and buried her face in Sharon's neck, secure in Sharon's embrace.