Title: Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows
Author: Kimberly21570
Fandoms: Guiding Light / All My Children
Pairings: Olivia and Natalia / Lena and Bianca
Disclaimers and other Assorted Ramblings: The characters of Olivia Spencer, Natalia Rivera, Doris and Ashlee Wolfe, and Alan Spaulding are owned by CBS/TeleNext and Proctor & Gamble. The characters of Jennifer Morgan, Tracy Jackson, Bennett Thomas, Clayton and Rian Vaughan, Langston Malloy, Gwen Matthews, and Preston Morgan are the property of this author, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No copyright infringement intended with regard to Guiding Light, CBS/TeleNext, Proctor & Gamble, or any other entity. The dialogue, settings, and story content in these scenes are original. Written for fun, not for profit. All other standard disclaimers apply.
A special thank you to Silverbutterfly50 for my beautiful new avatar and banner on Incandescent Fire! Thanks to my pal, MoniRod for the edit. I'm sure it was a painstaking endeavor for you to wade through all this SMEXY for me. Once again, I appreciate you taking one for the team… ;-)
Rating: Chapter 14.15 is rated R, bordering on NC-17, for harsh language and some sexual content.
I hope you all enjoy!
K
Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows
Copyright May 2009
"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3 because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. 4 Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. 5 If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. 6 But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. 7 That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. 8 Such a person is double-minded and unstable in all they do."
— James 1:2-8, the Bible, New International Version (NIV)
"God promises a safe landing, not a calm passage. If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it."
Unknown
Chapter 14.15 – Trials and Tribulations:
Thursday, June 18, 2009… Penthouse Suite, the Beacon—1:30 a.m. Central Daylight Time
Where they all ended up going from there was basically straight to bed—though, not necessarily straight to sleep. Inarguably, everyone was exhausted, and after Ashlee headed home, Natalia suggested that they could all use a good night's rest. Essentially, they believed, Ashlee's testimony would clear Tracy of any wrongdoing—or at least level some degree of skepticism against Toni's accusations. And the remainder of the puzzle would be waiting for them in the morning. There was no sense in losing any more sleep over it, when there was nothing they could do about it in the middle of the night anyway, she astutely pointed out.
Jen and Tracy readily agreed, and thanked Olivia and Natalia again for the offer of the guest room in the suite for the night. They had been through so much in just a few short hours, and more than ever, they simply needed to be together; to feel the other's commitment to their relationship. And that would've been so hard if they'd had to stay in separate homes after the day they had just lived through.
Given the lateness of the hour, Tracy suggested that Olivia and Natalia stay the night. But Olivia said she just wanted to sleep at home, in her own bed. It always made Natalia's heart swoon, to hear Olivia refer to the farmhouse as home. And that was never truer than it was at that moment. She wondered briefly, if she would ever get used to that feeling of giddiness that overcame her each time she contemplated the fact that Olivia Spencer was her lover, her life partner. Somehow, she strongly doubted it. And that was more than okay with her.
Saying their goodnights, Olivia and Natalia excused themselves, and headed home to their country farmhouse. And Jen and Tracy made their way to the shower, where they attempted to wash off the stress of the day, and relax under the warmth of the shared water. And then, naked and fresh from their shower, they slipped beneath the cool cotton sheets of the queen-sized guest bed in the penthouse suite, their bodies instinctively intertwining. It was a luxury to them—the opportunity to sleep naked together, without fear of unexpected guests. And they didn't take it for granted.
Her head resting against Jen's shoulder, an arm and leg draped around Jen's body, Tracy relaxed into her fiancée's embrace. "I'm so sorry about all of this," she whispered regretfully.
Jen pulled Tracy impossibly close, brushing her lips against Tracy's temple. "There's nothing to be sorry for, Honey," she soothed. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"But we're stuck in this mess because of me," Tracy argued.
Shifting slightly, Jen sought Tracy's gaze in the light of the moon that peered through the open curtains of the sliding glass door. "We're stuck in this mess because of Toni and her fucked up mother, not you," she countered.
"Yeah, but… if I weren't in your life, then Preston…"
Gently, Jen pressed her fingertips against Tracy's lips. "Stop it, okay?" she said quietly.
Instinctively, Tracy stilled.
Holding Tracy's gaze, Jen let her fingertips slip away. And then she found Tracy's hand beneath the sheets, their fingers effortlessly intertwining. "If you weren't in my life, I never would've known what it's like to be loved with such boldness and tenacity." Not that Jake hadn't loved her—because he had, with everything in him. But Tracy's love was so very different, so all-encompassing, that Jen had blossomed within it; forever changed. "And I would've spent the last six years feeling very lonely," she whispered. "And our boys would've missed out on having a wonderful Mamá."
Tracy offered a weak smile in response. It scared her to think she was the reason they might lose their children; their family. She opened her mouth to speak again. But noting the fear reflecting in Tracy's eyes, Jen quickly quashed the urge.
"Preston Morgan is a self-righteous ass," she stated firmly, her gaze never leaving Tracy's. "He's always been an ass, and he always will be. It has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with his sick, incessant need for control. I know he's behind this whole thing with Toni and Diane, and…"
"I know. But how do we prove that," Tracy wondered aloud.
"Don't worry about that, okay?" Jen said. "I have someone running down some leads for us."
"When did you manage…"
Jen cut her off with a brief kiss. "He's been working on it since they arrested you. But I won't have any details until everything comes together. The less you know, though, the better—plausible deniability. At least until we get these charges dropped, and DCFS backs off."
"It isn't illegal, is it?"
Fingertips brushed against Tracy's lips again. "It isn't illegal. But it might get a little underhanded before it's over. So I want you to stay clear of it."
Tracy opened her mouth to protest, but Jen just shook her head. "Trust me, okay?"
A reflexive smile warmed Tracy's lips. "Always," she whispered.
Jen smiled in response. "Good," she murmured. "Because I know that everything's gonna be okay."
"How can you be so sure?" Tracy countered. She was in awe of this newfound certainty in her fiancée.
"Because I believe in you, Tracy," Jen said softly. "And I believe in us. Just like you did, even when you had no real reason to. You're not the only one in this relationship with tenacious streak in her," she grinned.
A slow hand gently stroked the warmth of Jen's hip and thigh beneath the sheets, as Tracy smiled into those clear blue eyes. "I love you, Jennifer Morgan," she whispered.
The softest of groans fell from Jen's lips as she basked in the tenderness of Tracy's touch. "And I love you, Tracy Jackson," she whispered. Leaning close, she brushed their mouths together in a light kiss. "And as soon as all of this is behind us, I'm going to prove it to you with a wedding band."
"How about you prove it to me right now, with something else?" Tracy said suggestively.
Jen laughed softly. "You're not too tired?"
"I'm too tired for sex," Tracy admitted. "But I'm never too tired to hold you, and touch you, and kiss you," she whispered.
"We've never needed to have sex, to make love," Jen whispered. Lightly, her mouth skimmed along the taut cord of muscle in Tracy's neck.
"No, we haven't," Tracy murmured, as her mouth connected with Jen's again. And then she met Jen's gaze, her eyes filled with a need for something far deeper than sex. "So hold me close, Cara. Make love to me, like only you can," she pleaded. "I need you. God, I need you so much."
"Yes," Jen answered without a moment's hesitation. She rolled Tracy onto her back then, covering her fiancée's body with her own. Her nipples brushed lightly against Tracy's breasts, as she leaned down, kissing her tenderly. "I need you too. More than you could possibly know."
"Show me," Tracy beseeched, as her fingertips moved lightly along Jen's spine, causing sparks to ignite between them.
"Always," Jen whispered, as their mouths met again, this time in a kiss that held the promise of so much more.
Tracy's fingers tangled in Jen's short blonde locks then, as she kissed her, their tongues meeting; not dueling, but caressing. And she spread her legs, welcoming Jen between them, just as she had so many times throughout their years together. It felt so comfortable, so right, the way their bodies fit together. Like two halves of the same whole. Complete, in a way that neither of them had ever known before. And they spent the better part of the next hour touching, caressing, whispering, kissing, with no hint of that familiar mad rush toward climax, but rather, simply reveling in the nearness of one another.
Thursday, June 18, 2009… Detective Sargent Langston Malloy's Residence—1:45 a.m. Central Daylight Time
As Langston showered before bed, her thoughts drifted back to the details of the case against Tracy Jackson—and to her own initial reaction to the charges. She had waged a bitter battle against herself early on, because as a law enforcement officer, especially one who was trained to work with survivors of sexual assault, she had been schooled to remain ever-mindful of stereotypes—the ones that defined society's ideals regarding the appearance and behaviors of victims of so-called "legitimate rape." She scoffed at the very idea of such an offensive term to describe the most heinous act she could imagine against any human being, regardless of sexuality or gender. She was trained to believe the survivor, regardless of what the circumstance looked like, until the evidence told her something was amiss.
And yet, in this situation, her gut had told her from the beginning that this particular victim—Toni Martin—was lying. How fair had that been, she challenged herself, to allow her instincts to guide, rather than giving this case, this young woman, the courtesy of a full investigation? It was part of her duty as a law enforcement officer to challenge her own biases. Had she been derelict in her duties? And more importantly to her, had she somehow let Toni Martin down?
The last thing in the world she ever wanted was to be that cop—the one who let an innocent victim down, either by way of a botched investigation, or worse, by not believing someone who truly had been victimized.
But then she remembered her conversation with the detective who filed the initial report of the alleged incident. He had described Toni's demeanor as being "anxious," which would be reasonable for someone reporting such a crime, even after such a long delay. She understood that not all victims reported immediately. And for some, it took years to garner the courage to speak out—if they ever found the courage at all.
She acknowledged the truth in all of that. But there was something else that was nagging at her. The detective had also described Toni's mother as being "pushy" and "insistent," as Toni described the alleged incident. The woman refused to allow Toni's statement to be taken in private, and she showed no empathy toward her daughter, according to the detective. There was a sense of immediacy to her tone, and her comments were more focused on how the alleged crime simply "had to be reported," than to attending to her daughter's obvious distress.
Would she have been more inclined to fully believe Toni Martin, if not for the uncanny timing of the report? Langston wondered, as she toweled off after her shower. And did it really matter, now that they had Ashlee Wolfe's sworn statement that Tracy Jackson was never alone with the alleged victim that night?
Of course it matters, she thought with an irritated sigh.
It mattered because it was an issue of duty and integrity, and she needed to understand her motivations for having sided with an alleged perpetrator, without a single ounce of evidence to exonerate her. Was it because Tracy is a woman? Because she's a lesbian? Because Langston found her undeniably attractive? Or was there truly something there, some substance to that gut feeling she had experienced when first notified of the alleged crime?
Frustrated by the inner turmoil that seemed to have kicked into high gear the moment she entered her apartment, she sighed heavily, as she retrieved a few scant items of clothing from her dresser drawer. Slipping into the pair of running shorts and faded Princeton t-shirt, and crawled beneath the cool sheets of her queen-sized bed, and flipped off the bedside lamp. She would talk with Gwen about the situation during dinner Friday night, she quickly decided.
The thought of Gwen and their planned dinner brought a smile to her lips for the first time since they had parted ways just a short time ago. She was ridiculously attracted to the woman—and not just to her body. Gwen was beautiful, to be certain, and her body was solid, muscular, curvy in all the right places—exactly what Langston found attractive. But more importantly, she was intelligent, and warm, and funny, and she made Langston feel at ease in a way no one had since…
Willfully, she shoved that memory aside. She just couldn't go there. Not yet, anyway. And though she wasn't quite certain she was ready to be involved with anyone again, as Langston Malloy settled into her bed, she couldn't help but wonder how their evening together might end.
Thursday, June 18, 2009… Gwen Matthews' Residence—2:00 a.m. Central Daylight Time
On the other side of town, Gwen Matthews found herself contemplating that very same question, as she stepped into the shower. Relaxing beneath the steaming hot spray, she allowed it to wash away the stress of the unexpectedly long day. For hours, she had been contemplating the case they were working together, but now, she allowed her mind to drift into more personal territory… to Langston.
Never would she have imagined that this day would end the way it had—with her having a date with Langston Malloy. The entire drive home, she couldn't wipe the giddy grin from her face. Langston had agreed to dinner. Not just an impromptu quick bite after work, but an actual planned event! She was certain she looked like a schoolgirl with a crush, but she just couldn't help herself.
She had been thinking about Langston, in that way, for nearly two years—ever since the first case they worked together. It had been an unforgettable experience, and not just because of the way Langston had handled the case itself, but because of the gentleness and genuine care she had shown toward the children who were involved.
Langston Malloy would make a wonderful mother, Gwen had surmised after watching her with those children—a sixteen-year-old girl and her ten-year-old brother who had been brutalized, in unimaginable ways, by their stepfather, nearly their entire lives. And the abuse hadn't stopped with the children. Langston intuitively recognized the signs of battered woman syndrome in the children's mother. She understood the kind of trauma all three of them had endured at the hands of a monster. As a result, she had also been patient and empathetic with the woman, rather than condemning her the way others, including the media had, during one of the most frightening ordeals of her life.
When the woman finally opened up, Langston and Gwen learned that she had been happily married to her high school sweetheart, and after the birth of their son, her husband had died of lymphoma. Left with the children to raise on her own, she had struggled for several years to make ends meet. And then she met and married a man whom she believed to be devoted to her and her children. He was a wealthy businessman with strong ties to the Springfield community, and when he began abusing them shortly after the wedding, he made it clear to all three that no one would ever believe them if they told.
He controlled where they went, who they saw, how much money they spent, even on things like groceries, and made it impossible for the woman to get away safely. It had been an anonymous hotline call to DCFS that finally gave her an opportunity to get her children out safely, and she had grabbed onto it like a drowning woman to a life vest. Between Gwen and Langston, they had gotten the family the help they needed, and the last time Gwen had checked in with them, their abuser was in prison, and their lives were finally back in balance.
The case had come to a conclusion nearly two years ago, and still, Gwen remembered Langston's gentle strength and compassion toward that woman and her children. It had drawn Gwen to the quiet, thoughtful detective in a way she had never been drawn to anyone before or since. And now they were on the cusp of something new. What it was, she couldn't yet say. But she knew that whatever it was, she wanted it, and wherever it led, she would willingly follow.
The reality of that thought struck home as Gwen was toweling off, but the chance to explore it further was fleeting. Her cell phone rang, startling her. And still naked, she quickly moved toward the sound. She grinned as she lifted it from the bedside table, noting that it was the sexy detective.
Langston could hear the smile in Gwen's voice as she answered, and she quickly apologized for calling so late. "I wanted to talk with you about something… professional." Her concerns about the way she had handled their case were weighing heavily on her mind, and she just couldn't let it go enough to sleep. "I was planning to bring it up tomorrow night, but… I decided I'd rather we keep that time more… personal," she explained. And then her tone adopted a questioning lilt. "I hope that's okay."
Gwen smiled, as she slipped into a thin t-shirt and panties, and slid beneath the covers. "That's perfectly okay," she reassured, in a honey-smooth tone. "In fact, that's what I was hoping for, as well."
"So… this really is a date," Langston asked in that questioning tone again.
Gwen's heart fluttered in her chest. "I… I'd like it to be, yes."
Grinning, Langston declared, "Good, 'cause… that's what I'd like too."
Unable to stifle the goofy grin that spread across her face, Gwen struggled not to giggle. "So… what's on your mind, Detective?" she queried.
"I just need a check-in of sorts," Langston replied, feeling a sense of calm wash over her. And then she spent the next ten minutes laying out her concerns.
And when she was finished, Gwen skillfully reassured Langston that she had acted in the best interest of all parties. She hadn't dismissed Toni Martin's claims, she had simply followed her gut, and in the end, it appeared as though her gut instinct had been correct. They both agreed that there was much more to this story, and Gwen suggested that she look further into the relationship between Toni Martin and her mother, Diane. Something just wasn't right there. Gwen's own instinct was telling her so, and Langston had to agree.
It was nearly three in the morning when they ended their call. But neither of them was sorry for having taken the time to talk through Langston's concerns. Langston thanked Gwen for being a sounding board for her, and told her how much she was looking forward to their dinner. And when the said goodnight, they settled into their separate beds, drifting off into sleep with a sense of anticipation and wonder in their hearts.
Thursday, June 18, 2009… the Farmhouse of Love—2:00 a.m. Central Daylight Time
Arriving home after the drive from the Beacon, Olivia and Natalia went about their usual nighttime routines. As they had in other aspects of their life, they had become like a well-oiled machine, the way they maneuvered around one another in the confines of the modestly-sized master bath. While they were looking forward to the remodel for obvious reasons—including that Jacuzzi tub—they both agreed that a part of them would miss the intimacy of sharing such closed quarters in the evenings.
Pinning her hair up, Natalia slipped into the warm spray of the shower, with Olivia following close behind her. They took turns washing one another's backsides, stealing light touches to other body parts, along the way. Every touch, every caress, was intentional, and they shared the glances and smiles that only lovers shared, as they allowed the soap and water to sluice away the stress of the day.
And then, stepping from the shower, Olivia wrapped a fluffy white towel around her dripping body, watching intently as Natalia's eyes followed the tiny rivulets of water, as they cascaded along her naked flesh.
Precipitously, the familiar heat of desire quickened deep in Natalia's belly. She stifled a groan, as a fleeting wish passed through her—a wish that she were one of those droplets. Especially the ones that glistened from the soft, manicured curls nestled between Olivia's legs.
As if reading Natalia's mind, an eyebrow arched flirtatiously. And a dimpled smile sprouted in response, as Olivia held the towel open for Natalia to join her.
Natalia went to her, allowing Olivia to enfold her in the warm softness of the towel. A low mewl slipped from her lips, as their bodies came into full contact for the first time since that morning when they made love. Even in the shower, they had deliberately touched and teased, but did not come fully together. Experience had taught them that their chances of a shower that didn't drain all the hot water were slim-to-none, if they touched full-on at any time throughout.
But they were free now to touch, to explore, and though they were both exhausted from the long, arduous day, neither of them resisted the sprouting need that lay in wait, always, like springtime perennials, for the first hint of warmth and stimulation, and then blossomed between them into the full bloom of desire.
The warmth of Natalia's mouth fell swiftly to the soft, wet heat of Olivia's skin, her tongue lightly skimming as she chased those glistening drops of water. Stumbling across Olivia's pulse point, she lingered in the sensation of Olivia's heartbeat against her tongue. No matter how or where she felt that steady beat—with her fingertips or tongue—beneath the smooth skin of Olivia's neck or the subtle scar that still marked her chest, or buried between her legs, it settled her, in a way that nothing else ever had or ever would, to feel that robust rhythm of life, coursing through Olivia's veins. That, alone, had made their tumultuous journey to love, completely worthwhile.
When they first started making love, that thunderous pounding of Olivia's heart worried Natalia. The endless "what-ifs" made her fear for Olivia's life. But as time passed, she had come to revere the impassioned response she evoked from her lover's body as they touched. It was the essence of life, and Olivia was embracing it with her, clutching it with both hands, and holding on for the future they both longed to share together.
She had fought for Olivia, refused to allow her to squander the gift of life that she had been given. And now that Olivia was living life to its fullest, who was Natalia to take that for granted? No, that would never do. And so she had chosen to embrace it fully, just as Olivia had done in the moment she first declared her love to Natalia.
Breaking her mouth away from the tantalizing taste of Olivia's skin, Natalia met Olivia's gaze, an unspoken conversation effortlessly passing between them. And then slowly, she dried the water from her body, before allowing Olivia to do the same for her.
Hanging the shared towel over the rack, Natalia took Olivia's hand, leading her into their bedroom, where she pulled actual nightwear from their chest of drawers, rather than their usual skimpy shorts and t-shirts. And slowly, she and Olivia dressed for bed.
They both whimpered softly as tantalizing body parts slipped from view, but they knew they couldn't risk a night without clothing. Not only did they have Emma to be concerned about, they had two impressionable young boys, and Jane to consider. Rafe wasn't an issue, as he was still vastly uncomfortable with even a brief venture to the second floor of their home.
Once dressed, albeit begrudgingly so, they made their way toward their bed, where they slipped between soft, cool sheets. Their bodies instinctively moved toward one another, meeting in the middle of the huge bed, where they settled together.
Despite the incessant droning of need that pinged between them, they knew they were too exhausted for sex. But that didn't curtail their need to simply be together, their bodies intertwined.
A long, silky leg draped across a toned thigh, pressing close against a warm center, as fingers lightly skimmed a shapely hip, and then a smooth, flat belly. "I can't even imagine what Jen and Tracy must be feeling right now," Natalia quietly confessed. Her heart went out to them. Despite the positive spin things had taken that evening, the wheels of justice turned slowly, and Tracy still wasn't home free.
Olivia nodded, and pressed her lips against Natalia's in a brief kiss. "Neither can I," she agreed, as she nuzzled against Natalia's cheek.
"Promise me Frank won't hurt us like that," Natalia beseeched. It wasn't the first time she had asked for such a promise, and she knew what the answer would be. But it made her feel more secure just knowing that Olivia was there to hear her request.
Her fear was palpable, and Olivia sought to dissuade it. "I can't promise he won't try," she said as soothingly as she could. "But I promise he won't succeed. Just like Preston won't."
"How can you be so sure?" Natalia didn't doubt her; she simply wanted to know what Olivia was thinking.
"Well, I'm confident that any attempt Frank might make would be a lost cause, because we have the same group of determined people on our side, as Jen and Tracy do on theirs. And we're about to win their battle," Olivia answered forthrightly. "And as far as Preston goes, even if we can't make these bogus charges go away quickly, he's about to meet his match in the boardroom. And I guarantee you, that'll stop him in his tracks."
Olivia's tone held the slightest hint of arrogance, and Natalia grinned in response. "You're sexy when you're self-assured," she murmured.
"Yeah?" An eyebrow vaulted.
"Irresistibly so," Natalia confirmed. She didn't dare tell Olivia she found her sexy all the time. The woman would be impossible to live with if she knew the whole truth.
"You know…" Olivia said, her tone sultry, as she trailed a fingertip along Natalia's cheek, and down onto her chest. "If I wasn't so tired, I would totally try to seduce you right now."
Natalia grinned, and pressed a kiss to Olivia's mouth. "If I wasn't so tired, you would totally succeed," she played along. "And it wouldn't be a difficult challenge."
"How about I just kiss you for a little while?" Olivia suggested, lightly brushing her lips against Natalia's again.
An eyebrow vaulted playfully. "Are you suggesting that we make out, Ms. Spencer?"
"Indeed, I am, Ms. Rivera," Olivia replied. "Our daughter could probably use a break from all the sex, anyway," she suggested, as she slid the palm of her hand along the smooth contour of Natalia's growing belly.
"That's true enough," Natalia laughed softly. She grew quiet then, her gaze locked on Olivia's, searching. "Come 'ere," she whispered alluringly, as her hand trailed along Olivia's right side.
"Ooh," Olivia sighed, as she felt Natalia's fingertips brush against the side of her breast. "I thought you just wanted to make out."
"Making out includes second base, doesn't it?" Natalia asked innocently. Her mouth skimmed Olivia's neck, lingering over her pulse point again, as her hand burrowed beneath Olivia's t-shirt, seeking the warmth of her skin.
Olivia laughed softly. "Yes," she said. "Yes, it does."
Their lips met then, in a leisurely kiss, as Natalia's hand resumed massaging Olivia's left breast. And when Natalia opened her mouth to Olivia, their tongues lightly caressed, and Olivia moaned sweetly into her mouth.
Several minutes later, Olivia felt the familiar stirring of arousal honing itself into that sharp edge that demanded satisfaction. She lifted her mouth from Natalia's, earning a deep groan of protest from her lover.
Nipping lightly at a kiss-swollen lip, she smiled into a sleepy gaze that that was hedged with arousal. "I know, Honey. Me too," she whispered. "But if we don't stop now, I'm, uh… I'm gonna need to finish."
Delivered on a throaty whisper, Olivia's comment caught Natalia's attention. She cocked an eyebrow. "So what's stopping you?"
A quiet laugh fell from Olivia's lips. "I thought we weren't gonna…"
Natalia smirked. "I didn't say anything about me."
Olivia's face quickly adopted a look of surprise. "Are you saying you want me to, uh…" Aroused by the very thought, she bit her lower lip in anticipation.
"Touch yourself for me?" Natalia supplied helpfully.
Amused, Olivia searched Natalia's face in the moonlight. "Yeah," she replied, almost shyly.
"Yes," Natalia candidly confirmed. "That's exactly what I want."
Slightly surprised, but pleasantly so, Olivia laughed, and kissed her. "Oh, really?" she purred, one eyebrow arched. It wasn't that they hadn't done that before… it was just that Natalia had never asked for it so brazenly. "Suddenly, I'm not so tired anymore."
"Me neither," Natalia grinned.
And then Olivia realized this might be the perfect segue into a subject she had been hesitant to bring up with Natalia. Leaning closer, she kissed her again. This time a little more briefly. "Would you be okay with me… using something?"
Natalia looked intrigued. "What do you mean?"
"You know… a, uh… a toy," Olivia stammered. She knew Natalia didn't have the first clue what she was talking about.
"A… a toy?"
Natalia looked decidedly confused, and Olivia chuckled. "Well, not toys like Legos®, or anything," she teased, hoping to take the edge off for both of them. She couldn't believe how nervous she was—and she wasn't even considering showing Natalia the real toys yet. "I mean, something to help me… y'know..." she shrugged. "Get off."
Natalia blinked twice, as she contemplated the implications of Olivia's comment. And then suddenly, her eyes widened. "There are things to help you… do that?" She sounded both amazed and intrigued.
"Oh, yes," Olivia answered in a titillating tone that matched the suggestive grin on her face. "All sorts of delightful things."
"Like what?" Natalia's eyes were wide as saucers now.
Each having moved as they talked, they were sitting cross-legged, across from one another now, with the soft light of the bedside lamp illuminating their faces. Olivia leaned over, pressing a light kiss to Natalia's lips. "I was hoping you would ask," she announced, as she slid off of their bed. "I can't wait to show you."
Barefooted, Olivia padded across the hardwood floor to their bedroom door. With a quick flick of the fingers, she locked it, and then she moved toward their dresser, with Natalia watching her every move.
"Do you have all kinds?" Natalia asked curiously, as Olivia crouched down, opening one of the small center drawers at the bottom—there were two, one of them Natalia's, the other, hers.
Glancing over her shoulder, Olivia flashed a mischievous grin in response to Natalia's question. "I do," she confessed. "But why don't we start off slowly, huh?" she suggested. "We'll work up to the really good stuff later."
"Okay," Natalia easily agreed. She was still flabbergasted that such things even existed!
Satisfied with Natalia's response, Olivia turned her attention back to the contents in the drawer. Shuffling a few items around, she reached into the far back corner, retrieving a black velvet bag from beneath a stash of sexy lingerie she had hidden away there for future unveiling. Holding the bag in her hand, she contemplated what lie ahead, and she felt the heat of anticipation burning deep within her belly, and pooling between her legs.
And then closing the drawer, she staved off her arousal, as she stood to her full height, returning to their bed, bag in hand. The bag was relatively small, but not tiny. And it was bulky, but not full. It easily garnered Natalia's full attention, as Olivia settled on the bed across from her, legs once again crisscrossed.
Natalia watched intently, as Olivia unfastened the drawstrings, slipping her fingertips inside to spread it open. She felt so curious and excited; it was almost like watching Olivia open a Christmas present meant for Natalia. But… it wasn't even for her to use, and Natalia wondered where this need, this excitement, to watch Olivia pleasure herself, had come from, and why it was so strong.
It wasn't anything she had ever even contemplated before Olivia. She wasn't even certain she really knew people did such things, before the first time she heard Olivia on the other side of that bedroom wall. And yet, she could barely contain the burning desire she felt, as she watched Olivia empty the contents of the bag onto the mattress in between them. She wondered if Olivia would make the same sounds for her, as she did because of her, all those months ago. And that thought aroused her even more.
"What is all of this?" Natalia finally asked. Her curiosity was getting the better of her.
"Well, this," Olivia said, picking up a small cylindrical item, silver in color, "is called a silver bullet."
Natalia eyed it inquisitively, as Olivia moved it around between her fingers, displaying it from every angle. "And once I put batteries in it, it'll vibrate like crazy," Olivia continued to explain, as she lifted a small plastic baggie full of tiny silver discs from the bed.
"Vibrate?" Natalia quizzed, her brow furrowed, as she contemplated the dynamics. And then her eyes widened. "Oh!"
The expression on Natalia's face as she uttered her exclamation told Olivia her lover was growing ever more intrigued. She smiled at her, as she leaned forward, kissing her lightly. "And when I tease my clit with it, it drives me insane," she husked against Natalia's ear.
Breath catching in her chest, the confirmation of Natalia's sexual anticipation escaped on a strangled whimper.
Olivia grinned in response. And then, opening the tiny zip-lock, she fished three of the silver discs out, and zipped the baggie closed again.
Dropping the baggie onto the bed, she unscrewed the end of the silver cylinder with the black rubber button, methodically sinking the discs into the cavity. And finally, she twisted the top back on, making certain to fasten it securely.
Once secure, she tossed it to Natalia. "Push the little black button."
Catching it in her hand, Natalia did as she was instructed. Her reflexive response was a squeal of surprise. She was so startled by the vibration, she nearly dropped the tiny object. "This thing is insane," she declared, eyes wide with wonder. She couldn't believe how quiet it was, given the strength of the vibrations.
Her response, both verbal and otherwise, drew a soft laugh from Olivia. "Told ya," she said; amusement evident in her tone. She inched closer. "Think you might like to try it instead?"
Sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, Natalia lightly chewed it as she contemplated. "Maybe," she granted, still a little uncertain. "But… after you." Her face took on a perplexed expression then, as she hit the switch to stop the vibration. "Can we do that? I mean, is that okay?"
Olivia grinned. "Sure," she shrugged. "We can do whatever we want." And then she lifted a tiny bottle from their bed. "That's where this comes in."
"What is it?"
"Toy cleaner," Olivia informed.
Natalia arched an eyebrow. "Do I even want to know how you know about all of this?"
Olivia chuckled, as she dropped the baggie of batteries back into the velvet bag, and set it on the bedside table. "Well, I had to do something all those nights you sent me to bed frustrated," she teased.
"What do you mean by that?" Natalia demanded. "You were the one holding out."
Olivia certainly couldn't argue that. "The nights we would fight, before we were together," she clarified. "My God, those arguments with you left me so hot 'n bothered."
"Oh, yeah?" Natalia's lips adopted a satisfied grin.
"Oh, yeah," Olivia huskily confirmed. She pulled Natalia to her then, brushing her mouth against Natalia's neck. "Besides, you know I haven't done that since we've been together. Ever since that first kiss, I haven't wanted to settle for anything less than the real thing with you."
Pulling back just a bit, Natalia smiled into Olivia's gaze. "I'm glad," she whispered. And then she brushed her mouth against Olivia's in a tender kiss.
What started out as a tiny flicker as Natalia kissed her, turned into a smoldering flame as the kiss slowly deepened. Without either of them even registering the movements, clothing began to fall away as they reclined into their bed, their bodies pressed together, skin on skin. Their breathing grew labored, as their kisses further deepened into a slow exploration of mouths and tongues, and before they even realized it, they were both riding the sharp edge of arousal as it begged for their attention.
Natalia groaned into Olivia's mouth. Olivia's kisses made her crazy with desire. "I think I'm the one who needs to finish now," she murmured.
Olivia smiled into their kiss, and lightly tugged at Natalia's bottom lip with her teeth. "I know the feeling," she husked. And then her mouth found Natalia's ear. "What did you do with it?" she asked, referring to the tiny vibrator.
"It's on the bed somewhere," Natalia answered, as she arched her back, her body straining for added friction between them. She didn't have to ask what Olivia meant.
Agile fingertips sought and found the evidence of Natalia's need, gently stroking. Natalia groaned in appreciation, and pressed closer, encouraging Olivia's continued attention, even as she searched the bed between them.
Quickly locating it, Olivia grasped it firmly in her free hand. "Can I touch you with it?" she murmured against Natalia's ear. The very idea of it excited her more than she ever would have guessed.
"God, yes," Natalia growled. "You can touch me with anything you want. Just do it now!"
A roguish grin flashed across Olivia's face. She hit the button with her thumb, and lightly teased the tuft of dark curls at the apex of Natalia's thighs with the vibration. She felt Natalia's body jerk in response, even before the soft mewl escaped her lover's lips.
Natalia couldn't believe her body had reacted so strongly to something as benign as vibration against the tiny hairs between her legs. It hadn't even touched her skin, and she was already going crazy!
Deftly, Olivia slipped the tiny object between swollen lips, slowly gliding it through hot wet folds with practiced ease. Natalia's body instinctively writhed beneath her touch. Her mouth closed over a rock hard nipple just as the vibrator landed at the base of Natalia's clitoris, and Natalia nearly came out of her skin with excitement. A string of incoherent Spanish released from Natalia's lips, unbidden, flooding Olivia's senses, and spurring her on.
Finally, Olivia nestled the vibrating wonder against the sensitive side of Natalia's clitoris. The stimulation was like nothing she had ever experienced, and immediately, she cried out in excitement.
"Shh…," Olivia quietly hushed, as she quickly locked her mouth over Natalia's, swallowing her increasingly raucous cries of pleasure.
And then she nuzzled against her ear, once Natalia settled into the stimulation. "We have to be quiet tonight," she murmured, as she moved the vibrating object with expert precision, causing Natalia's body to shudder again.
Olivia's simple comment reminded her that Jane was asleep in Olivia's old bedroom, and the boys were asleep just across the hall. Earlier that evening, after Jen had agreed to let Jacob and Dylan stay at the farmhouse, she had arranged to have two rollaway beds, complete with bedding, sent over from the Beacon, so that they would have a place to sleep. And now they had plenty to worry about in terms of how much noise they made.
"I can't help it, Liv," Natalia whimpered. Her hips surged, rising up, her hot center filling Olivia's hand. She gasped when she felt Olivia's fingertip teasing at her opening, as the bullet tickled the left edge of her clitoris. "You're driving me crazy with that thing."
A satisfied smirk hijacked Olivia's lips, but before she could respond, Natalia's thighs instinctively crushed together. The powerful force of those toned thighs trapped the vibrator and Olivia's hand against her, as the blissful convulsions of her release began. It flowed through her body in roiling groundswells of endless pleasure, and Olivia watched in wide-eyed wonder, as Natalia came apart in her arms. And then, her breath coming in sharp gasps, she settled against Olivia's body.
Shutting off the vibration, Olivia pulled her closer, quietly soothing her, as her breathing slowly returned to a steady, measured pace. Holding her in those moments when she was so open, so vulnerable, brought Olivia to her knees, every single time. But this time, it rocked her to her very core, and without her even realizing it, she found herself nuzzling against Natalia's breast, tears quietly streaming down her face. That she had been given such an exquisite gift was truly unfathomable to her. What had she ever done in her life to deserve it? Absolutely nothing—at least not in her own estimation. And yet, here Natalia was in her arms, in her heart; the binding that held her world together.
Sensing the heat of Olivia's tears against her skin, Natalia gently tipped Olivia's chin. She met Olivia's teary gaze with an affectionate expression, and pressed her lips against Olivia's in a tender kiss before quietly asking if she was all right.
Sniffing back tears, Olivia nodded. "I'm fine, Sweetheart," she whispered. "In fact, I've never been better."
"Then why are you crying?" Natalia's soft voice was filled with concern. Gently, she rolled Olivia onto her back, her own body pressed against Olivia's side, one leg draped over a toned thigh.
Olivia eyes shown with love, as a wobbly smile broke through her tears. "Because I get to love you, Natalia," she whispered. "I wish I had the words to tell you what that means to me."
"We don't need words, Liv," Natalia murmured, as she brushed wayward chestnut locks from Olivia's face, affectionately. "Not when we have moments life this, where we connect so deeply that mere words become inadequate."
"I never thought it could be this way," Olivia quietly confessed. "I tried to run away from my feelings to avoid the inevitable disappointment. But you wouldn't let me run. And now I get to love you, and that makes me happier than I ever imagined I could be."
Natalia smiled, as she nuzzled against Olivia's cheek. And then she kissed her tenderly. "Neither of us needs to run anymore. You get to love me forever, Liv," she murmured against Olivia's lips. "And I get to love you."
Olivia offered one of those heart-stopping smiles. "And to hell with anyone who tries to get in our way," she declared.
"Exactly," Natalia firmly agreed. And then she leaned down, and kissed Olivia again.
When she lifted her mouth from Olivia's, she smiled as she nuzzled against Olivia's nose. "You know, when we started tonight, this was supposed to be about you," she reminded, as she nipped and tugged at Olivia's lower lip. "Do you still feel up to it?"
Olivia tangled her fingers in Natalia's hair, pulling her into another tender kiss. "I'd rather just hold you tonight, if that's okay."
"Are you sure?" Natalia queried. She would never want to leave Olivia unsatisfied.
"I'm positive," Olivia whispered, as she shifted more onto her side, lying face-to-face with Natalia. "Watching you come apart in my arms was more than enough for me."
Natalia looked doubtful, but Olivia stood firmly behind her words. She reached out, lightly brushing the backs of her fingers across Natalia's cheek. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are when you come?" she whispered in awe.
Blushing, Natalia averted Olivia's intent gaze. "I'll have to take your word for it," she quietly responded. And then she met Olivia's gaze again. "But I'll bet I'm not half as beautiful as you are, when you come for me."
Olivia smiled, and kissed the corner of Natalia's mouth. She appreciated Natalia's growing level of comfort when it came to expressing herself in sexual terms. "I suppose beauty really is in the eye of the beholder," she conceded.
"Yes," Natalia said with warmth and conviction. "I suppose it is."
She allowed herself to be pulled more firmly into Olivia's embrace then, resting her cheek against Olivia's breast. Lightly, her fingertips stroked Olivia's belly, as Olivia's fingertips caressed her lower back, soothing her into a relaxed state. They would get up a bit later to dress and unlock their bedroom door. But in that moment, they drifted together in the warmth, in the comfortable silence that lingered between them, before finally falling into sleep.
Thursday, June 18, 2009… Bennett Thomas's Residence—3:30 a.m. Central Daylight Time
Hours later, Doris found herself encircled in the warmth of Bennett's arms, the other woman spooning her from behind. A light kiss fell upon her shoulder, as fingertips gently fluttered against the soft, damp curls between her thighs. Somewhere along the way, the toys had been tossed aside, and it was just the two of them. Intimate. In a way that it hadn't been between them in what felt like ages.
"It's been a long time," Bennett whispered with a sense of longing, against Doris's ear. Her tongue curled around it, and lightly, she nipped at the tender lobe.
The true meaning behind Bennett's comment wasn't lost on Doris. They hadn't fucked in months. And to their mutual, silent regret, they hadn't made love in a great deal longer than that. "Far too long," she agreed.
She sighed, though contentedly, finally sated after years of pent-up need. Oh, how she loved the way Bennett's fingers felt as they caressed her there—tempting, but not demanding.
"Are you still seeing the teenager?"
Doris heard the teasing smirk in Bennett's tone. "She's not a teenager, BJ," she defended lightly. "And no, I'm not. I ended that a while ago."
"I haven't heard from you," Bennett casually mentioned. It wasn't an accusation, but her tone told Doris she was hurt. I've been divorced for months, and not a word from you.
Because I've been avoiding this conversation. Better to avoid, than be disappointed again. "I didn't want you to think I only call when I want to fuck," Doris said candidly. It was partially true, at least.
"Why would I think that?" Bennett's voice was as soft as the fingertips that fluttered across Doris's bare belly, and up to a soft, round breast.
"Because I haven't seen you since I started fucking the teenager," Doris answered. Those wandering fingertips were driving her crazy.
"I thought she wasn't a teenager," Bennett said, her tone mild and teasing. Lightly, her mouth skimmed Doris's bare back, as fingertips tweaked a hard nipple, causing a heated shiver to run along Doris's spine.
"That seems to be the only way anyone refers to her," Doris groused. "Her name is Jamanda, by the way."
The groan that escaped Doris's mouth along with her comment sent Bennett's hand back down between Doris's legs, where the teasing stroking continued. "Jamanda?" She emphasized the oddity, and laughed heartily. "What the hell kind of name is Jamanda?"
"Hell, I don't know," Doris laughed. "All I know is that she was great in bed."
Fingertips stilled between Doris's thighs. "Better than me?" Bennett queried, her tone, gruff.
Doris rolled her eyes, and stifled a grin. "You're such a guy sometimes," she accused.
"I'm not the one who showed up packing tonight," Bennett reminded.
Grinning, Doris turned slightly, meeting Bennett's steely bluish-gray eyes. "No," she readily agreed. "But you were the one who thoroughly enjoyed what I was packing."
"Touché, my darling," Bennett granted, as her fingertips lightly brushed Doris's face. "It was fabulous, by the way. You were fabulous." She emphasized that it was more about Doris than the sex. Gently, she turned Doris's face toward her, kissing her tenderly. "Don't get me wrong, a quick fuck with you is always more than satisfying, but I… I've missed making love with you."
Delivered on a strangled whisper, Bennett's tender confession tore at Doris's battered heart. A wobbly smile toyed at the corners of her mouth. "I've missed making love with you, too," she whispered.
The depth of truth in that simple statement tugged at Bennett's heart, as Doris turned in her arms, kissing her passionately—an attempt to quell the rising fear of ever being disappointed again. Once upon a time, things had been so different for them. But that was then. And reality was now. Doris would take whatever she could get, and learn to be satisfied with it. After all, she'd been doing that for years. She'd had no other choice in the matter. Not if she wanted to keep Bennett in her life, anyway.
Bennett Thomas had come from a wealthy southern family, rooted in the heart of plantation country. Steeped in the traditions of the "Old South," old money and old expectations were a way of life, even in the late nineteen-seventies when the young southern belle met her formal introduction to society. The opportunity to attend college was a given. Her parents expected her to possess respectable degrees from a respectable institution, and Harvard was the prize in their opinion. But she was never expected to actually use her degrees. No, they were simply for show—much like the woman, herself. She was to return to Charleston after law school, put her degrees on display to satisfy her parents' need to affirm her pedigree, marry the man her mother had deemed appropriate for her, and be a proper wife.
That would have been all well and good with her, had she not met and fallen head-over-heels in love with a gorgeous young, blue-eyed temptress named Doris Wolfe, her first year of law school. But she had been drawn to Doris from the moment they met, and while they didn't act on their attraction at first, neither could they have ever denied it. Even if they had wanted to.
It was the same for Doris, as well. Never had she imagined, when placing an ad for a roommate, she would find a gorgeous young southern belle with a stubborn streak that rivaled that of Scarlet O'Hara, and a sultry smile that never failed to gain her forgiveness for it, standing on her doorstep. And she certainly never imagined that she would fall hopelessly in love with her. But she did. They did. And as a result, they spent a blissful three years together, living in that tiny apartment near the Harvard campus.
But they were young, and scared of what others would think if their relationship were to be made public. It was the early eighties, and an admission of homosexuality, especially in the South, guaranteed threats of hellfire and damnation from the local preacher—or much, much worse, for those with no means of escape.
And equally as intimidating to Bennett was the idea of defying her mother by refusing to marry Clayton Vaughan. She had defied her enough by living in that "hovel," as her mother called it, with Doris, and with her refusal to take Clayton's name, professionally, after their impending marriage. Had she come out back then, her mother would have destroyed Doris, both personally and professionally, and Bennett would have ended up married, regardless of her protests to the contrary.
And so, after law school, Bennett returned to Charleston, and promptly married—it was what all good Southern women did, her mother insisted. Grudgingly, she settled into a life she did not want, and immediately thereafter, she had gotten pregnant with her first daughter.
Doris had been devastated by the marriage, and the pregnancy had thrown her over the edge. Shattered, she returned to Springfield, where she settled into her life as a prosecutor. But her life was empty, meaningless, without Bennett, and it was then that she decided she wanted a child of her own. At least then, she wouldn't be alone anymore.
"I finally told Ashlee," Doris confessed, when her thoughts turned toward her daughter.
"About us?" Bennett sounded surprised.
"No, just about me," Doris clarified. "I would never bring your name into it without asking first."
"I'm divorced now, Doris," Bennett gently reminded. "We don't have to hide anymore. Unless… that's what you want."
Doris stared at her, eyes filled with surprise. "Is that what you want? To not hide anymore?"
"Yes."
"You're ready to be… to be out… with me?" Delivered on a tentative breath, Doris was afraid to believe it was really true. Then immediately, she wondered whether she was ready for such a bold move herself.
"Of course I'm ready, DJ. It's what I want more than anything," Bennett said softly, as her fingertips brushed Doris's face. "It's what I've always wanted."
"Not always," Doris countered, without hint of reproach.
"Don't go there, okay," Bennett quietly requested. "I can't change past mistakes. All I can do is look to the future."
"And you want that future with me?" Doris didn't sound convinced.
"Yes, I do," Bennett affirmed. "I've only kept quiet since my divorce for your sake, and Ashlee's. Not my own." Gently, her eyes searched the bluish-gray gaze that peered into her own. "How could you not know that?"
"I'm not a mind-reader, Bennett," Doris snapped. Stiffly, she moved away from Bennett, which caused a reciprocal shift in Bennett's demeanor.
"Well, what the hell do you think I'm doing here in Springfield, Doris?" Bennett asked incredulously. "I didn't exactly fight my mother and blackmail Clay into moving here, just for my health!"
"What, you moved here so you could fuck me on the side?" Doris said accusingly. She sat upright in the bed, staring down at Bennett. "Because that's what you've been doing for the past fifteen goddamn years."
It was true. Bennett couldn't deny it. But still, it pissed her off. Releasing a slow sigh, she willfully bit back the sarcastic response that had instantaneously formed on her lips, as Doris continued her rant.
"Do you have any idea what it was like, knowing that man was touching your body?" Doris harangued. "Fucking you whenever he wanted?"
"And I hated every minute of it, DJ," Bennett seethed, emphasizing the emotion. Her anger was directed not toward Doris, but toward her mother who had forced the marriage, and toward her father, who had allowed it to happen. "You know that I did."
"That didn't stop you from having two children with him," Doris accused.
Bennett offered a wry smile. "You don't have to want sex to make a baby," she said quietly, stressing the part about desire.
Doris's eyes widened with worry. That was the last thing she expected Bennett to say. "He didn't force you, did he?"
"Force?" Bennett's bitter tone marked the question. "Not exactly."
"Then what did he do?" Doris demanded.
"Coerced, is a more civilized word for it," Bennett supplied. "I was just grateful he didn't try to… coerce me, more often."
They were quiet for a moment, each lost in her own thoughts. And then Bennett glanced up, meeting Doris's gaze. She could drown in the depths of those gorgeous blue eyes. "Are we really going to fight right now?" she asked softly, as she sat up in the bed. She moved closer to Doris, resting her chin on a bare shoulder. "Tonight has been so lovely." Lightly, her fingertips brushed Doris's cheek, and then gently turned her face, and she kissed her lips. "I don't want to spoil that."
"Neither do I," Doris begrudgingly agreed. Part of her was still angry over all the lost years, but deep down, all she really wanted was to be with this woman. And so she let it go. But she didn't let go of Bennett's comment about being coerced. "Did he hurt you, BJ?" she asked softly.
Bennett shook her head. "No," she denied. "Clay is a decent man, and he was never violent with me. It wasn't his fault that I didn't want it."
"But if you didn't want it, then he should've…"
Holding Doris's worried gaze, Bennett gently brushed her fingertips against Doris's lips, hushing her. "He never forced me, DJ," she said quietly. "And for the most part, he was tolerant when I refused him."
"For the most part?" Doris sounded incensed. She didn't care for that qualifier.
"Wouldn't it piss you off on occasion, if your partner refused you sex more often than not?" Bennett reasoned.
Doris couldn't really argue that, but she refused to acknowledge it either.
"After a while, he stopped even bothering to ask, because he knew I would refuse him," Bennett commented, in the wake of Doris's silence. "Most of the time, he was getting it elsewhere, anyway. Had been since long before we were even married."
She had brazenly used that information as leverage when bargaining for their move to the Midwest, as well as for anything else she wanted. Her mother could force her to marry him, but Bennett was determined the woman would never control anything beyond that. "I couldn't blame him for that, and I certainly didn't mind. I was never the wife he deserved, but he rarely complained. He just accepted our marriage for what it was, and did what he needed to do on the side."
The parallel to Doris's own relationship with Bennett wasn't lost on the Mayor. But she said nothing. It was neither the time, nor the place, for such an exploration. Instead, she followed the natural trajectory of their conversation. "How did he react when you told him you wanted a divorce?"
Pausing for a moment, Bennett contemplated Doris's question. "Honestly, I think he was relieved when I told him I wanted out," she admitted. "He never would've dared leave. That would have ruined his business dealings with my father."
"So he stayed in a loveless, sexless marriage, for money," Doris commented.
"He wasn't alone in that, DJ. I had my own reasons for staying, despite the fact that I missed you every single day," Bennett reasoned. "There's no difference. At least not to me."
The sadness in Bennett's voice outweighed the sound rationale within her words, and it broke Doris's heart to hear it. She had always known that Bennett's marriage was a loveless one, but she'd never understood how lonely Bennett had been for her. "No, I suppose there isn't," she conceded. After all, hadn't she been guilty of something similar when she married Alan Spaulding?
She was quiet for a moment, and then she asked, "So you left the marriage on good terms?"
"As good as could be expected," Bennett replied. "We didn't fight about assets. We lived mostly separate lives, anyway, so there wasn't much that wasn't already divided. And the girls were grown, so we had nothing to fight about there either."
"I guess it was perfect timing then," Doris surmised.
"Yes," Bennett agreed with a slight smile, as her thoughts drifted back to Doris's long-awaited confession to Ashlee. "I think it was."
Silently, they lingered together, each of them contemplating the possibilities. "So what did Ashlee say when you told her?" Bennett finally asked, breaking through the silence that had once again fallen between them.
"Understandably, she was angry with me for not telling her sooner," Doris shared. "But she's fine with the fact that I'm gay."
"I'm happy for you, DJ," Bennett said, supportively. She wrapped her arms around Doris then, pulling her close again.
Doris smiled, as she settled into Bennett's arms. "Me too."
Idly, Bennett raked her fingertips through Doris's soft brunette waves. "I saw her the other day," she said casually, referring to Ashlee. "She looks wonderful."
"She does, doesn't she?" Doris said with a deep sense of pride. "She's done really well since her weight loss surgery." She paused for a moment, remembering how she'd felt when she first learned about it. "I was angry with her, you know. For not telling me about the surgery until the last minute."
"I remember," Bennett commiserated. Doris had come to her in tears after learning of Ashlee's secret plans. She had been heartbroken—not about the surgery, but about the lack of connection she felt with her daughter. And Bennett had comforted her as best she could; knowing that Doris would never have the connection she so longed to have with her daughter, until she was ready to let down her guard, and allow Ashlee in. Bennett blamed herself, in part, for that wall that Doris had so firmly constructed around her heart. But at the time, there had been little she could do about it. She was grateful that things were different now.
Lightly, Bennett pressed her lips against Doris's temple. "It must've been disappointing to learn about it the way you did."
"It was," Doris admitted, as she turned more fully into Bennett's body. "But I understand now, why she didn't tell me. We spent so much time hiding the truth about ourselves from one another, it's no wonder we never really bonded once she grew older."
"Are things better now?"
"Like night and day," Doris shared. "We spend time together now. Really talk, like we never had before." She rolled her eyes and grinned. "She's even threatened to find me dates."
Bennett laughed heartily. "I'll bet that would be a sight."
"I politely declined," Doris said drolly.
Leaning closer, Bennett pressed a soft kiss to Doris's lips, surprising her. "I'm glad you declined," she whispered. "And I'm glad you're not seeing the teenager anymore."
Doris's breath caught at the sincerity in Bennett's tone. "When did you decide?" she quietly inquired. She didn't have to elaborate. Bennett knew what she meant.
"After that last time in my office," Bennett answered quietly. The depth of her vulnerability was evident in her tone.
The soft expression in Doris's deep blue eyes encouraged her to continue. "I realized how much I missed you, and how much I wished we could have more. When you left, I felt so empty, so alone. More alone than I've felt in years," she confessed, her eyes turned dark gray with tears.
Slowly, a single teardrop streaked down her cheek, and Doris reached out, catching it with her thumb. Her heart ached from the sadness she found in those beautiful gray eyes.
"I wanted to call you back to my office," Bennett was saying, as Doris lightly kissed her cheek where the tear had fallen. "And bring you home to my bed, and keep you here with me forever."
She was quiet for a moment, as she allowed the memory of that revelation to cleanse her. And then she met Doris's gaze again. "I knew I couldn't live a lie any longer, DJ. So I went home that weekend. Told Clay I wanted a divorce. And I told him why."
"You did?" Doris sounded almost shocked.
"I did," Bennett answered. Her tearstained eyes glistened with pride. "I told him I was in love with someone else—a woman. I didn't tell him who, of course, because it wasn't my place to out you. But I told him who I really am—who I've always been."
Doris's breath caught in her chest. She had always known that Bennett loved her, but she had never heard her say it in so many words. The fact that Clay had been the first to actually hear it certainly wasn't lost on her. But she said nothing. She was far more interested in what Bennett had to say to her in the moment, than what she had said to her husband months ago.
"I honestly don't think he was all that surprised, and... I'm sure it didn't take much for him to figure out it was you. Rian's full name is Dorian, after all," she grinned, speaking of her eldest daughter who, at Bennett's insistence, had been named for her first and only love—Doris Ann Wolfe. It had been Bennett's way of keeping Doris present in her life, despite the growing distance, both emotional and physical.
Doris beamed in response. "Yes, it is, isn't it," she said proudly. She remembered the day she learned Bennett had named the baby after her. It meant more to her than she ever would have imagined. But it also made her sad, because she wanted so much to be a part of the child's life—of Bennett's life as well, of course. And she knew that could never be. Bennett was married, and Doris was alone. And a baby's name, no matter how sentimental, certainly wouldn't change that.
"Clay didn't dare argue," Bennett was saying, as she drew Doris from her thoughts. "By the time Rian was born, I already had Clay exactly where I wanted him. He was too worried that I would expose his infidelities, and ruin his business dealing with my father, to care what I named our child."
"And what about your father?" Doris asked, as she realized the true impact of Bennett's decision, not only to divorce, but to come out, as well. "Oh, Christ, and your mother?" Instinctively, she knew Mrs. Thomas would be the more combative of the two. Bennett was rather like her mother that way, but Doris had never been fool enough to point that out. "How did they react?"
"God, I was so scared to tell them," Bennett confessed. "Can you even imagine? A forty-nine year old woman, afraid to tell her parents she was getting a divorce?"
"Personally, I would've been more afraid of telling them I was a lesbian," Doris commented wryly.
"Well, as I'm sure you can imagine, that went over like a lead balloon," Bennett admitted ruefully. "My mother thinks I need psychiatric help."
An eyebrow vaulted. "Has she looked in the mirror lately?"
Bennett chuckled softly. "She's an old Southern woman. She's supposed to be neurotic," she commented passively.
Doris laughed heartily.
"I suppose that's a good thing," Bennett shrugged nonchalantly. "Since there's no psychiatrist or medication on the planet that can cure what's wrong with her."
"You make a valid point," Doris commented.
Moving impossibly closer, Bennett leaned her forehead against Doris's temple. And then her fingertips teased between Doris's thighs, as she nuzzled against Doris's cheek. "I'd rather be making love with you," she whispered. She was over the conversation about her parents and her divorce. She just wanted to be close to Doris, now that she'd found the courage to tell her how much she wanted to be with her.
Smiling, Doris covered Bennett's hand with her own, inviting her into the wetness between her legs. "You read my mind," she murmured, as she covered Bennett's mouth with her own. The conversation long forgotten, her tongue skimmed Bennett's lower lip. And Bennett's mouth opened to her, welcoming the warmth of her inside.
A hungry battle ensued, tongues sliding and tangling, as gently, Doris lowered Bennett down onto the mattress. Instinctively, her hand found Bennett's breasts, her fingertips skimming across a nipple, causing it to stiffen beneath her touch. Bennett's breasts were exquisite. Doris had always thought so; but never more so than at that moment, as she held one of those priceless treasures in her hand. Perfectly shaped, they were smooth and firm, with tight areolas just slightly darker than Bennett's caramel-colored skin, and the most beautiful mocha-tinted peaks, always ripe for suckling.
She took her time, touching, caressing, kissing, suckling, until Bennett's breath turned ragged, desperate with need. And then, nudging Bennett's thighs with her hand, she wordlessly signaled her intentions.
Willingly, Bennett opened to her, spreading her legs, as she welcomed the weight of Doris's body atop her own. Nothing in the world ever felt as perfect, as right, as the pressure of Doris's hips, as she nestled them against Bennett's pelvis. And nothing ever would.
And then Bennett was groaning into Doris's mouth, as Doris began a slow, deliberate thrust, her fingers stroking with determination between Bennett's legs. They fluttered and teased, hitting all the right spots, as Doris deftly moved her lover to the edge and eased her back down again, taking her higher and higher with each approach toward the pinnacle of release. Her efforts earned her a seemingly endless string of audible encouragers, from raspy whispers to throaty groans, and every imaginable thing in between, until finally, Bennett was once again begging to be taken.
Willingly, Doris obliged, and within moments, Bennett was coming apart in her arms. Doris had always sworn that she had never seen anything more beautiful than Bennett Thomas in the throes of passion. And that was never more true than it was in that very moment. Her head thrown back against the pillow, her body arching into Doris's touch, Bennett's breath came in short gasps, as she hips jerked, her entire being shuddering in release.
With practiced deliberation, Doris held her there, right at the pinnacle of release, extending her pleasure until finally, Bennett's incoherent murmurs turned to strangled sobs, borne of sheer joy. And then Doris was gathering her close, comforting her with whispers and kisses, as she tenderly brushed away the tears.
"I love you, Doris Wolfe," Bennett whispered against the warmth of Doris's breast, as she snuggled into her body. God, it felt so good to finally be able to say it out loud!
Doris felt her breath catch in her chest as tears of happiness flooded her eyes, and silently, she fought back the sob that threatened to escape. "I was hoping to hear that somewhere along the way," she whispered, as she pressed her lips against Bennett's temple.
"I promise it won't take me so long to say it next time," Bennett solemnly vowed. She felt Doris's smile forming in response.
"Well, Christ, let's hope not," Doris said drolly. Her comment earned her a well-placed pinch, and she yelped in protest.
"Serves you right for being such a smartass," Bennett remarked, as she snuggled against Doris's side again.
Doris didn't bother to argue, as she pulled Bennett impossibly closer, covering them with the sheet that had long-since come loose from the foot of the bed. And they settled together then, their bodies instinctively intertwining, as they drifted along the slumbering edge of contented dreams.
"Bennett?" Doris whispered sleepily, as she brushed her lips against Bennett's ear.
"Hmm…?" Bennett murmured lazily.
"I love you, too."
TBC in Chapter 14.16…