"Is my memory failing or is there someone named Scott who works here?"
Jacqueline walked into the conference room where Jane appeared to have every notebook she owned as well as years of Scarlet issues spread everywhere.
Turning toward the blonde, Jane felt calm for the first time that entire afternoon.
"Your memory isn't failing you, though in this one case I wish everything I have ever told you about him would vanish into thin air," she smiled, spinning a chair around for the editor to take a seat. "He is on assignment. And seems to think I sent him on assignment to keep him away from me."
"Did you?" Jacqueline gave her a pensive look.
"No... yes... no," Jane groaned. "I don't have a fucking clue."
Jacqueline placed her elbows on her knees, linking bejeweled hands and resting her chin on them. Leaning forward she looked at the writer before passing on a word of advice: "It's okay if you don't have all of the answers, Jane. I wish I had known that when I started out in this job."
Jane sighed.
"Were you asking as my boss or my...friend?"
Jacqueline did a bit of sighing as well.
"You and I are going to have to find a way to traverse that question."
"Can I ask you something personal?" the young woman looked to the door and back to the editor. It was late enough that there wouldn't have been many people around, but Jane still had Jacqueline's private life and reputation to protect. "When you initially nixed my article. How close were you and Ian to reconciling?"
The lines around Jacqueline's eyes were more pronounced when her marriage was the topic of conversation.
"If you are asking if it was the dealbreaker, no. Did he feel like I chose my work over my family? Yes. But that had nothing to do with you."
"I pushed," Jane regretted.
"Honey, you always push for the story that needs told. You were not what changed my mind, though you were and always are quite persuasive."
Taking a hand in her own, Jacqueline looked at the small fingers, the youthful skin, the calluses from habitual writing.
"How close were we to reconciling? We were probably a trip to Iceland and a few too many memories away," Jacqueline pressed the small hand to her cheek, briefly and discretely. "I didn't have a clue what was about to hit me when I gave you Ian's contact information."
"I am sorry, Jacq."
"And so it shall be," the editor shook herself out of the heaviness. "Maybe I should be grateful for small favors." Jacqueline was now genuinely curious. "Why do you ask?"
"I wish I could tell you," the writer shook her head. "It's two-prong and I would be betraying a confidence."
"I know about Richard and Sutton. I hadn't. Richard and I haven't been as close as we once were, especially now that he has left Safford. We talked last night. Richard will always be my friend, but I find myself hurting for Sutton. Perhaps it's that I am a woman or that I was a reluctant mother in the beginning."
"My heart breaks for her," Jane felt tears welling in her eyes and chose not to fight them. "I have never seen her like this. And something happened recently that, well, I can't talk about it. She is drinking a lot, coming and going, not really settled anywhere. I am sure her work is suffering. I want to help. There is nothing I can do."
"Hey," Jacqueline leaned in, wiping tears from the writer's cheeks. "You can love her. You can be a soft place for her to land. That is what you can do for her right now. And I know you are doing it."
Letting the tears flow, Jane took a trembling breath. She accepted the kiss to her forehead with humble gratitude. She felt undeserving of such kindness and support.
"Would you like to explain to me what is going on with Kat?" Jacqueline did her best to give Jane the outlet the young woman clearly needed. She didn't want to pry and, like Jane with the Carlyle marriage, didn't know how much was her business.
"Argh," the writer responded. "She is so frustrating!"
"I heard her interview with RJ's daughter as well as clips from subsequent interviews. I thought it an odd get for her first podcast episode particularly given that she lost her job over her behavior regarding RJ. Illegal behavior, I might add."
"You don't know the first of it," Jane took down her long hair and ran her fingers through it in frustration.
"She is no longer my employee and if it doesn't affect Scarlet, I would like to know. If for no other reason than it will allow me to help you through it," Jacqueline took Jane's hand in hers and used the other to twist a section of hair back behind an ear. "Your hair is getting very long."
The writer leaned into the hand at her ear. She found herself longing for Jacqueline's touch. Stealing touches was her newest obsession.
"Wait, you said she was chasing a woman who was entirely wrong for her and..." the pieces fell into place. "Oh god, Kat. No. Ava, really?"
"I have made my objection known. Who am I to—" Jane stopped suddenly. "We all make mistakes."
Jacqueline stood abruptly.
"Come with me," she insisted.
Confused, the writer did as she was told. They left the conference room and walked toward the door to the fashion closet. Jacqueline said 'hello' to an assistant who was leaving while holding the door for Jane.
Once inside, the tall blonde closed the door and latched it. Upon turning around, her purpose was clear. She jerked the young woman to her and kissed her long and forcefully. Despite the abrupt nature of the kiss, it was easy to melt into Jacqueline. A hand at the small of Jane's back slipped lower. Another hand cupped her face and held her in the kiss until both women were breathless.
"What was that?" Jane panted, her own hand resting on the older woman's chest.
"This isn't a mistake," Jacqueline was firm and honest. "Whatever you think of what Kat is doing, this is not that. Like you said, I wasn't chasing you. Maybe in my mind without allowing myself to admit it… Jane, my life is full of regret and guilt, shame, sadness and secrets, but this feels right to me."
It was Jane's turn to kiss Jacqueline fiercely. Both her hands were on the woman's face. As their tongues moved against one another, Jane felt a tear slipping down her cheek. She was overwhelmed by emotion. They broke for air and the tears kept falling. The editor wiped Jane's tears, her fingers wisping across skin. Her lips found their way to tracks of tears.
"What is it?" the breathy question intoxicated Jane.
"I want this more than I have ever wanted anything."
Jacqueline's lips stilled on the woman's jaw. She took a breath before stepping back to appreciate the solemnity with which her lover spoke. Her lover, Jacqueline thought. God, I want this. A bruising kiss carried them further into the room. Jane was unbuttoning her top and releasing it from her short skirt, another ensemble she chose with the other woman's gaze in mind. She stepped forward to help Jacqueline out of the cashmere sweater she wore, a subtly masculine piece. A bra as delicate as skin was released and tossed aside. Small hands worked to unbutton slacks. It was a feat to sustain kissing as they tore clothes from one another's bodies.
"I will never get over the scent of your skin," Jane purred.
For a moment the memory of dragging skinny jeans down Jane's legs as she stood in Jacqueline's home flooded the blonde's thoughts while her own pants were jerked down her long legs.
What the writer had in mind could not be misinterpreted.
"Jesus," Jacqueline's acknowledgement of what would come—quite literally—encouraged Jane.
An equally delicate thong found its way to the floor and the brunette's hands clung to the woman's hips. Jacqueline couldn't breathe much less speak.
"Fuck, you smell divine."
And then Jane's mouth found her.
It took everything in Jacqueline's power to remain upright as she sensed every swipe of her folds, every nip. She placed her hands upon Jane's shoulders to maintain her balance and bit her lip to contain the noises that were begging to escape. She couldn't believe she was allowing this to happen at the office. A team of wild horses couldn't have taken her away.
Hands slipped from hips to cheeks, seeking a better angle for entry. Success forced Jacqueline's back to arch and her muscles to clench; it was a heady feeling completely unraveling against Jane.
"Good god," she rasped. "Good fucking god."
Unlike the night in the editor's bed, Jane brought her wet mouth to Jacqueline's and shared the taste. She kept the woman engrossed in the kiss whilst placing her hand where her mouth had been. Jacqueline was sensitive to the slightest touch. She bit Jane's lip when a thumb circled the bundle of nerves that still pulsed. They could taste blood but didn't stop the kiss or the stimulation from continuing. When Jane felt Jacqueline stiffen and her breath hitch, she knew the blonde was right there, ready to let it all go.
And she did.
"Jane….." the way she said the writer's name was both an expletive and praise.
The brunette held Jacqueline up when she felt the woman's legs giving way. She maneuvered them to the sofa where they collapsed.
A silence shrouded them. Their hands met and interwove. After catching her breath to a degree, the editor turned her head to look at the woman who was watching her with adoration and a need that could not be quenched.
"I could use a cigarette," Jacqueline laughed.
"Since when do you smoke?" Jane answered as she brushed a strand of hair out of Jacqueline's eyes.
"I haven't since college. It was cool then."
"Something tells me college Jacqueline didn't need cigarettes to make her cool. I bet every man and woman—to a person—on campus wanted to know you. If not wanted in your pants," the brunette smiled.
"Mmm…my wilder days," she hummed.
"I think you are wild now."
Jacqueline turned her body into Jane's. Placing a hand on Jane's warm, flushed cheek; she looked into hazel eyes. There was a reverence in those eyes that she knew was reserved for her and her alone.
"You make me feel wild, Jane," she leaned in for a kiss, a kiss that was nothing like those they had shared since coming into the fashion closet. It was everything those kisses weren't—tender, composed, clear-headed and loving.
Their parting carried those feelings into an intense look.
"What?" Jane whispered.
"I refuse to make love to you on this couch," Jacqueline admitted, gesturing to where they were sitting. "Not here. Not like that. And right now, that is exactly what I want to do."
The writer gave the blonde a reassuring kiss, a kiss full of promise and understanding.
"We should probably get dressed," she decided.
"If we can find all of our clothes," the editor snickered.
"Hey, I kept my skirt on," Jane charged.
"That mistake will not be repeated," came the response of the naked woman who stood to retrieve her clothing with the self-confidence Jane only wished she shared.
"Did I mention that I find you ravishing in that sweater and those pants? There's a distinct edge to it."
Jane had now joined Jacqueline in retrieving her own shirt.
"Imagine how it would look had my hair had the wet, slicked back look of Paris," Jacqueline stared at Jane to ensure she caught the implication.
The writer stood stock-still.
"You caught me watching you then? And you said nothing?" she was incredulous.
"What was I to say? 'Hey, you are fucking me with your eyes?' Yes, that would have been appropriate at a Scarlet fashion week function. Or literally anywhere."
Stepping forward, Jane wrapped her arms around the blonde's waist. The way she looked up into clear blue eyes was nothing short of worship.
"We are here now," Jane remained amazed at the fact.
"Yes, we are."
The kiss they shared was a kiss for the ages.
To be continued…