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 and Spencer, Natalia and Rafe Rivera, Josh Lewis, and Reva Shayne-Lewis are owned by CBS/TeleNext and Proctor & Gamble. The characters of Lena Kundera and Bianca Montgomery belong to ABC/Disney and Prospect Park. The original characters of Jennifer Morgan, Tracy Jackson and their extended family, Detective Sargent Langston Malloy, Attorney Danika Kováč, Judge Dalton Graham, A.D.A. Carl Cox, Jacqueline and Preston Morgan, and Diane and Toni Martin are the property of this author, and any resemblance to fictional characters, or real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No copyright infringement intended with regard to Guiding Light, CBS/TeleNext, Proctor & Gamble or any other person or entity. The dialogue, settings, and story content in these scenes are original. Written for fun, not profit. All other standard disclaimers apply.
This update is brought to you by request from my dear friend techgrrl06, and is dedicated to her and her wife, P. To all who are celebrating this weekend, I wish you a Happy Mother's Day! Also, many thanks to my friend and favorite FFW, WickedWanda926, and my friend newfan64 for the edit on this one. I owe you both bunches! Finally, as always, thank you all so much for your continued interest in this story. I can't tell you how much I appreciate the encouragement. I hope y'all continue to enjoy!
Rating: Chapter 15 is R for colorful language and sexual references.
Kimberly
Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows
Copyright May 2009
"Lies are convenient when the truth is unfathomable."
— Courtney M. Privett, Shadows of Absolution
Chapter 15.3 – Where Truth Lies:
Monday, June 22, 2009… The Farmhouse of Love—5:45 a.m. Central Daylight Time
As the sun peeked out over the horizon, splashing its glory across the expanse of land that surrounded the farmhouse like avant-garde artists splatter paint across a canvas, Rafe set out on his morning run. Much to his astonishment, he found Olivia and Lena just ahead of him, their silhouettes outlined by the fresh glow of morning. Since when did Olivia Spencer even get out of bed this early? Let alone, go for a run? He shook his head in amazement, and without hesitation, he hastened to catch up with them—another not exactly unwelcomed surprise.
For the next forty-five minutes, he ran with them in mutual companionship, speaking only enough to respond to prompts or to share a random thought. Mostly, he just listened to their interactions. They were a curious pair—two women of similar educational backgrounds, he had learned, but with seemingly nothing else in common.
Except that they both had sex with women.
Curious, indeed.
He wondered whether there was anything he should worry about, given how close they seemed to be. Olivia's history said she was a liar and a cheat. Would she cheat on his mother with this woman? Even five months pregnant, Lena was gorgeous enough to make any man want her. Or any woman, he supposed; should she be inclined to such things.
And apparently, Olivia was.
He sighed to himself, and kept on running.
Upon their return to the farmhouse porch, Rafe practically rolled onto the bench. Kicking his feet up against a post, he crossed them at the ankles. He watched and listened, as Olivia and Lena worked through a cool-down and chatted.
"Good grief," Olivia panted, attempting to steady her breath. Pressing the ball of one sneaker-clad foot against the edge of the wooden porch, she stretched out a hamstring. "Even five months pregnant, you're kicking my ass here," she joked. "I'll never keep up once you pop that kid out."
Lena laughed, and grabbed a pillar, as she grasped the toe of one foot, stretching her leg up behind her. "Lucky for you, that won't happen for another four months," she teased.
Olivia made a face at her, and continued her cool-down; stretches similar to those they used to loosen up before their run. Who would've thought she'd come to enjoy physical exertion that didn't involve orgasm? she silently mused.
Companionable silence fell, lingering for several minutes. And then Lena broke through the early-morning quiet. "What's on the agenda for today?"
"We have a meeting scheduled with Josh at eight-thirty," Olivia answered. She dropped down onto the top step, taking a seat next to Lena. "Should be able to finalize details for the Chicago renovations."
"Oh, that's great news!" Lena declared. "I'm sure Natalia is eager to see that project get under way." Bianca had shared the plans with excitement after hearing the enthusiasm for the project in Natalia's own voice. "She told Bianca your plan for her old apartment building was the greatest gift she could ever imagine."
Rafe's ears perked up, first, at the mention of Josh, but more so at the mention of the only home he had ever known before moving to Springfield. The place was an absolute hovel by society's standards, but Natalia had worked so hard to make it a home. It still surprised him sometimes, that she had had the courage to leave their life in Chicago, their home, behind, all to find Gus, so that he could know his father. Her sacrifices for him were many, and he chastised himself for not appreciating her more.
He couldn't help but wonder what Olivia had in store for that building. His mother hadn't mentioned anything, which seemed a little strange to him, given how excited she was—at least according to Lena. Given his behavior, he had to wonder if she hadn't bothered because she thought he wouldn't care. And that, more than anything, made his heart ache.
As Olivia and Lena continued to chatter, Rafe's thoughts shifted to Josh, and to a conversation they had shared while working on the treehouse the week prior…
Thursday, June 18, 2009… the Farmhouse of Love—12:30 p.m. Central Daylight Time
"See, Rafe, what you don't understand about Olivia is that every mistake, every bad choice she's ever made, was borne out of hurt or fear," Josh explained from his perch on the tailgate of his daddy's old Ford pickup.
A few feet away, Rafe was crouched down on an old tree stump, working his way through one of the sub sandwiches Natalia had packed for them that morning. They could've walked up to the house for lunch, but after being locked up for so long, Rafe practically loathed being indoors. And so they ate outside near the treehouse.
He wasn't exactly convinced of Josh's ability to maintain objectivity when it came to Olivia Spencer, but he listened anyway. He had brought the subject up—only God knew why—and now he had to deal with the consequences.
"She isn't evil. She doesn't even have a mean bone in her body," Josh was asserting. "She's just been hurt so many times that she's afraid of hurting anymore, so she lashes out when she feels threatened, so she can do the hurting first."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Rafe sighed. "I don't want my Ma to get hurt."
"She won't hurt your mom, Rafe," Josh assured.
"How can you possibly know that?" Rafe sounded dubious.
"Because other than your mom, no one knows Olivia Spencer as well as I do," Josh asserted. "I trust that she's finally where she's supposed to be, and she would never do anything to jeopardize what she has with Natalia."
"Yeah, well, I'll bet you believed that when she was with you, too," Rafe countered. "And that didn't work out so well, did it?" he reasoned. "I've heard stories…"
Grinning, Josh nodded. He certainly couldn't argue. But he could explain. "What she did, she did out of fear of losing me, Rafe," he shared.
"Well, she ended up losing you anyway, didn't she?" Rafe reasoned.
"Yeah, she did," Josh had to admit.
Jumping down from the tailgate, he moved closer to Rafe. Crouching down beside him, he draped a forearm across his own knee. "But what you're not getting is that it wouldn't have mattered what she did, or didn't do. We still wouldn't have ended up together, because we weren't meant to be. You see, we humans… we plan, and we scheme, and we do our own thing, and God, well, He just sits back and laughs because He knows that in the end, His plan for our lives will always prevail."
"And you and Olivia, that wasn't His plan?" Rafe questioned.
"His plan has always been Reva for me," Josh declared. "No matter how many times we try and fail, no matter how much we hurt one another, it always comes back to the two of us. Always. Olivia never stood a chance. Just like she never stood a chance with anyone else she's been with before your mom," he reasoned. "They weren't God's plan for her."
"And you think my Ma is?" There was challenge in Rafe's tone.
"Yes, son, I do," Josh said with confidence, as he clasped and squeezed Rafe's shoulder, a show of fatherly support. "No one has ever affected Olivia the way your mother does."
"Yeah, well that doesn't mean she won't hurt my Ma the way she's hurt everyone else," Rafe argued.
"Trust me on this," Josh said, "She won't."
Still, Rafe wasn't convinced. But for some inexplicable reason, he did trust Josh. And more than that, he found that he wanted to—for his mother's sake. Over the days that followed, he spent quite a bit of time thinking about that, and ultimately, the conversation with Josh was what brought him to a place where he was able to be more open about the idea of Olivia—even if he still didn't trust her all that much.
Monday, June 22, 2009… The Farmhouse of Love—6:45 a.m. Central Daylight Time
Back in the present, Rafe was dragged from his ruminations by the sound of his mother's voice, calling the early morning runners in for breakfast. Lena had disappeared from the porch, and Olivia was leaning in to kiss Natalia when his eyes fell upon the two of them.
He watched them intently; their shared smiles and tender touches. He wondered if that was how he and Daisy looked when they were in love. And he quickly realized, probably not.
"Thank you, Honey," Olivia said quietly, as her hands gently cupped Natalia's face. Lightly, she kissed her again. "Ten minutes, and then I'll be down to help."
"Take your time," Natalia said casually. "Lena's upstairs in Emma's shower, and Bianca has the girls corralled in the den watching cartoons."
"Perfect," Olivia declared. She brushed another quick kiss against Natalia's mouth. "Ten minutes."
"I'll hold you to it," Natalia said playfully.
Gathering Natalia close, Olivia brushed her lips against Natalia's ear. "Or perhaps you could just come join me," she husked suggestively.
Natalia offered a rueful smile in response. "Unfortunately, we don't have time for that this morning."
"I'll be on my best behavior," Olivia enticed. The hunger in her eyes as she gazed into Natalia's belied the innocence of her tone.
"Yeah, right," Natalia chuckled. "You and I both know if we get in that shower together, there won't be any hot water for anyone else in this house."
"Can't blame a girl for trying," Olivia said flirtatiously.
"No, I certainly can't," Natalia readily agreed. "Now go," she shooed. And then she swatted at Olivia's ass as she sprinted toward the stairs.
Once Olivia was inside, Natalia wandered out onto the porch. Taking a seat next to Rafe on the bench where she so often shared an early-morning coffee, or late-night glass of wine with Olivia, she reached over, affectionately patting her son's knee. "Good run?"
"Yeah, it was nice," Rafe answered. "I ran with Olivia and Lena."
"Really?" Natalia hoped she didn't look or sound surprised. "How'd that go?"
Rafe shrugged. "Not too bad."
Natalia nodded, as Rafe fell silent. They sat together then, not staying a word; both lost in their own thoughts.
"Hey, Ma?" Rafe said quietly, after several moments of contemplation.
"Yes?"
"What's Olivia doing with our old apartment building?" he asked curiously.
Tilting her head, Natalia regarded Rafe inquisitively. "Where did you hear about that?"
"They were talking about it this morning," Rafe explained. "I guess you guys have some kind of planning meeting with Josh today. Something about renovations."
"We do, yes," Natalia confirmed, a smile lighting her eyes. And then she shared with Rafe the story of how Olivia bought the building just to get that old doorframe—a treasured Christmas gift for Natalia. And about the unwed mother's home she was planning to open in Natalia's honor.
Rafe watched his mother come to life as she spoke of the gifts that Olivia had given her, and all the hopes and dreams she had for the young women they would serve there. And when Natalia finished speaking, tears streamed down her face. Rafe struggled hard to force back his own tears. "She really did all of that just for you?"
"Yes, Rafe. Yes, she did," Natalia answered, sniffing back the tears, as she dabbed with a handkerchief at her eyes. "And she did it because she loves me. She loves all of us." I hope someday you'll be able to see that.
"It's hard for me, Ma," Rafe said quietly. "She was so cruel to you, when all you did was try to help her."
"She was scared and lonely, Rafe," Natalia gently defended. "Terrified of dying alone."
"But she didn't die," Rafe countered. "You gave her Gus's heart, and she was even more cruel toward you."
"She was grieving for Gus."
"So were you!"
"Yes, I was," Natalia openly admitted. "But we all grieve in our own way, Rafe. She lashed out in her pain and anguish. Just like you did," she added, hoping to help Rafe see their similarities, rather than their differences. It wasn't the best likeness, but she'd take it—for now. "And I struggled to save her, to hold onto the last piece of Gus I still had."
"But it's not about Gus anymore?" Rafe queried warily.
"No, it isn't," Natalia said with conviction. "Now it's about Olivia, and how deeply I love her. Someday, I hope you'll come to truly understand that." She knew she'd told him all of this before, but felt the need to reiterate now that he seemed calmer, more receptive.
"I'm trying, Ma," was all Rafe said in response to Natalia's comments. And then he stood from the bench, leaning down to kiss his mother on the cheek. "I need a shower," he added. "See you at breakfast."
A faint smile touched Natalia's lips. It wasn't the breakthrough she'd been praying for, but at least it was another step in the right direction. She would take it. And she would be grateful.
Monday, June 22, 2009… Springfield Courthouse—9:00 a.m. Central Daylight Time
Tracy Jackson stood in the gallery, her fiancée Jennifer Morgan at her side, as court was called to order in the case of the State of Illinois vs. Antoinette Martin. They had talked long and hard over the weekend, parsing out the pros and cons of being there come Toni's arraignment. In the end, what Tracy felt, more than anything, was a deep sense of empathy for the troubled young woman.
Dark eyes wide, her entire body trembling, Toni looked young, and terrified, as she stood there, listening to the bailiff read off the list of charges. A gentle hand pressed against her shoulder, and she looked up, her gaze falling into the soft, dark eyes of her attorney, Danika Kováč—an arrangement at the request of Tracy Jackson.
Truth told, Dani hadn't been all that surprised by Tracy's request to represent the young woman who had falsely accused her. She had known, almost from the moment they met, that Tracy was an honorable, compassionate person. That was why it had been so easy to believe her innocent of the charges launched against her.
Once the charges against Toni had been read, she and Dani settled back into their seats at Judge Dalton Graham's request. Judge Graham considered recusing herself from the case, given that she was the one who was originally set to preside over the case against Tracy Jackson; but the events of the previous week caused a ripple effect within the courthouse, and available judges were in short supply.
So was the case with the prosecutor's office. And thus, A.D.A. Carl Cox had been assigned to work both of the Martin cases. How he had managed to walk away from his arrest, unscathed and still employed, no one really knew. More than that, no one was willing to ask. Some things were better left alone.
Pacing the courtroom floor, he took his time, meticulously outlining the facts of his case against the younger Martin with the same fervor with which he had gone after Tracy just the week prior. And finally, he concluded his remarks with a recommendation to the judge.
Dani took her turn next, arguing against the alleged evidence, as well as highlighting the fact that Toni Martin had never had so much as a traffic ticket, until her mother managed to get tangled up with Preston Morgan.
The hearing would have concluded with Judge Graham's decision at that point, had it not been for Tracy, who had asked to be allowed to speak at the hearing—an unorthodox request, to say the least. But Judge Graham granted her the time, and surprisingly—at least to the Judge and the ADA, Tracy used it to plead for leniency on Toni's behalf. If the charges couldn't be dropped completely, could the judge at least see fit to release the younger woman on her own recognizance?
Across the room, Toni wept openly. No one, in her entire life, had ever stood up for her. Even if the judge denied the request, how could she ever repay the kindness of a person she had hurt so deeply? It was unfathomable to her.
When Tracy finished pleading her case, Dani stood again, asking permission to address the court.
With a single nod, Judge Graham granted her request. "Keep it brief, Ms. Kováč," she said. "I have a full docket today."
"Yes, Your Honor," Dani readily agreed. Gathering her confidence, she quickly began her argument. "In light of Miss Jackson's statement, I would like to request that the charges against my client, Antoinette Martin, be dropped. Your Honor, even the victim in this alleged case is pleasing for leniency," she argued.
"Ms. Kováč, you know that even I can't make that decision alone," Judge Graham stated flatly.
"No, but you and Mr. Cox can make it together," Dani argued.
"Indeed, we could, Counselor," Judge Dalton agreed. She knew it was the right thing to do, and she cast a glance toward the ADA, attempting to read him.
Scrambling to his feet, Carl Cox self-consciously straightened his tie. "I think the courts could make better use of their time," he readily agreed. "The People withdraw their charges against the defendant."
Toni's breath caught.
Judge Graham ordered her to stand, and on trembling knees, she rose; Dani standing alongside her. And with bated breath, she waited, as the tears slowly trickled down her cheeks. The judge still had final say, and she knew the weight of the next few words that would emanate from the bench.
"Charges in the case of Antoinette Martin versus the State of Illinois are hereby dropped," Judge Graham declared with the striking of her gavel. And then she locked eyes with Toni. "Miss Martin, I suggest you watch what company you keep moving forward."
"Yes, Your Honor," Toni barely managed. "Thank you." Overwhelmed with emotion, her weeping turning into gut-wrenching sobs then, and she wrapped her arms around herself; an attempt at stilling her outburst.
Tracy gave a glance toward Jen, sharing a smile. They both knew to forgive and move on was the best thing to do. Jen nodded her acknowledgment of Tracy's unspoken question, and then Tracy swiftly moved across the courtroom, making her way over to Dani and Toni.
Shaking Dani's hand, she thanked her for stepping in. And then placing a gentle hand on Toni's shoulder, she spoke softly to her.
The actual words spoken were of less consequence than the message of empathy and forgiveness that that Tracy extended toward her. Over and over, Toni cried out her apologies, only to be gently hushed by Tracy, as she slowly ushered her out of the courtroom. And once outside the heavy double doors, still sobbing, Toni went willingly into Tracy's offered embrace. The feeling of unconditional acceptance washed over her like a cleansing stream, and she gave herself up to it, crying until every last tear had been spent.
Monday, June 22, 2009… Preston and Jacqueline Morgan's Residence—9:15 a.m. Central Daylight Time
The tapping of heels against granite echoed across the high-ceilinged vestibule, as Jacqueline Morgan made her way toward the heavy, wooden double-entry doors at the front of her home. The chiming of the doorbell had drawn her from the library where she had been settled with a cup of freshly-brewed coffee and a new book several hours prior. The coffee sat cold now, as the plot of the book had grown increasingly hotter—mercy, could that Eleanor Bradbury spin a yarn!
Releasing the latch, she swung open the door, finding herself face-to-face with two neatly dressed men in dark suits. Badges flashed as they introduced themselves as detectives in the Springfield Police Department.
"How might I help you, detectives?" Jacqueline asked.
"May we come inside?" the elder of the two men requested.
"Certainly," Jacqueline replied. Stepping aside, she widened the door to allow them entrance. "Might I interest you in some coffee or tea?"
"No, thank you, Ma'am," the younger detective answered.
Nodding, she closed the door behind them. "Right this way," she said, leading the way toward the study.
Once inside the overbearing room where Preston spent most of his waking hours at home, she offered the detectives a seat. Claiming an armchair across from them, casually, she crossed her legs. "Am I to assume this visit is associated with my husband's recently-exposed… indiscretion?" she asked coolly.
"Actually, Ma'am," the younger detective began. He paused, clearing his throat. "This isn't about his alleged illegal activities," he reported. "It's uh, it's about…"
"Mrs. Morgan," the more seasoned detective interrupted. "When was the last time you saw your husband?"
Jacqueline thought for a moment. "Well, that would've been last Friday morning, before he left for work."
"But it's Monday now," the elder detective pointed out unnecessarily.
"Yes," Jacqueline granted. "I'm aware of the day."
"And you don't find it strange that you haven't seen him since Friday?"
"Should I?"
"Well, I would surely wonder where my wife was, if she didn't come home for three days," the elder detective commented.
Leaning back in her chair, Jacqueline distanced herself from the men, regarding them with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. "Perhaps you don't have the same kind of marriage that I have," she countered.
"Perhaps," the detective grudgingly granted.
"Have you been at all concerned about him, Mrs. Morgan?" the younger detective queried.
"Preston had a last-minute board meeting on Friday afternoon," Jacqueline reported. "He had business partners in town, and he often stays at the club when he has out-of-town guests."
She leaned forward again, her penetrating stare locked on that of the elder detective. "Is there a reason I should be worried about him?"
Shifting gears, the detective asked, "Where were you on Friday evening?"
Jacqueline contemplated for a moment. "Well, I was right here at home."
"All evening?"
"Yes, detective," she answered firmly. "All evening."
Even as the lie slipped from her lips, her thoughts drifted back to the truth of her whereabouts. She could still smell the pungent aroma of cigar smoke and scotch, and she steeled herself for the memory of her last encounter with her husband…
Friday, June 19, 2009… Morgan Financial Corporate Offices—8:00 p.m. Central Daylight Time
"What the hell are you doing here?" Preston muttered upon the appearance of yet another unwelcomed intruder in his boardroom. He had finally gotten rid of that pesky detective by agreeing to give up the gun until he was sober. And now here she was.
Having waited until the police left before entering the building, she had been surprised to not see him leaving with them; though, she had no idea as to why. His attorneys had done an outstanding job of getting him arraigned quickly after the nightmare the night prior, and he wasn't set to see a judge again until the prosecuting attorney set a trial date. She wondered only briefly what they had wanted with him today, but she knew better than to ask.
"I brought you some dinner, Preston," Jacqueline Morgan said, mustering as much warmth as she could manage. She was dressed in her usual elegant attire, looking as though she had just come from a visit with the Queen at Buckingham Palace. The truth was, she had spent the afternoon fixing him a dinner that he hadn't bothered to come home to eat. "I thought you might be hungry given how hard you've been working," she explained, deliberately stroking his overinflated ego.
He simply snorted in response, and took another swig from his glass. She knew nothing of how hard he worked! She never had, and never would understand what it had taken for him to build his empire—only to have it stolen from him by those two bitches and their underlings. Inside, he seethed.
The smashed decanter across the room was not lost on her, but she didn't dare inquire, as she set the insulated carrying case on the table in front of him. From the looks of him he had polished off the entire contents before it landed there.
Biting her tongue, she deftly slid the zipper open. A thickly padded placemat was the first thing to emerge, and she set it on the polished cherry wood to protect it from the heat. And then, carefully lifting the glass container from the case, she pulled the lid off, allowing him a whiff of the proffered meal. It was his favorite—steak and lobster—with garlic mashed potato and green beans almandine.
She set utensils beside the container, and zipped up the case, tucking it beneath her arm. "Enjoy," was all she said, in her usual quiet manner. She knew better than to say much else, lest she stir his anger.
He said nothing to her in response, which didn't surprise her in the least. And backing toward the door, she simply left him to his dinner.
Monday, June 22, 2009… Preston and Jacqueline Morgan's Residence—9:30 a.m. Central Daylight Time
Back in the present, Jacqueline eyed the detectives curiously. "What is this all about?"
Casting his eyes toward the dark, wooden coffee table that filled the space between them, the younger detective avoided her gaze. Her curiosity grew exponentially.
Rookie, the elder detective scoffed inwardly. And then he met her questioning gaze directly. "We're sorry to inform you of this, Mrs. Morgan, but your husband was found in his office this morning." There was a pregnant pause, and then, "He's deceased, Ma'am."
The expression on Jacqueline's face was patently unreadable, as she sat there, stock-still, staring at the detective. "I'm sorry," she finally managed. "He's what?"
"Deceased, Ma'am. He's dead," the younger detective supplied unnecessarily.
The senior detective shot him a scathing look.
"I, um… What happened?" Jacqueline questioned. She struggled to maintain her demeanor.
"The coroner said it looked like a heart attack," the elder detective reported. "Of course, you have the right to request an autopsy, if you want one, Ma'am."
"Yes, I'm aware," Jacqueline informed. She neither wanted, nor needed, an autopsy.
"I apologize for the questions, Mrs. Morgan," he said. "We always have to follow up on things that appear suspicious on the surface," he explained. "I'm very sorry for your loss."
"Yes. Thank you," Jacqueline said distractedly. "Do you think you could excuse me now?" She needed to get away from scrutinizing eyes.
"Yes, Ma'am," the younger detective said respectfully. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a business card. "If there's any way we can help, please don't hesitate to call," he said, as he handed the card over to her.
"Thank you, detective," Jacqueline said politely.
And then they were gone, leaving her alone with the only thought that even bothered to cross her mind: It's over. Finally, I'm free…
Monday, June 22, 2009… Olivia's Office, the Beacon—11:30 a.m. Central Daylight Time
Leaning back in her overstuffed leather office chair, Olivia propped her feet up on the desk, crossing them at the ankles. She drew in a breath, blowing it out slowly; an attempt to steady the sharp pain of desire that burned deep in her belly. And then reached over, casually pressing the intercom button to buzz Natalia's desk.
"Yes?" Natalia answered almost immediately.
"Natalia, could I see you for a moment, please?" Olivia requested, her tone warm, yet professional.
"I'll be right there," Natalia assured. She tapped the button to end the connection, and keyed in the sequence to forward all calls into voicemail.
Moments later, she was stepping into Olivia's office. The soft glow of curiously subtle lighting was not lost on her, and she was stopped in her tracks by the smoldering expression in Olivia's deep jade eyes. Immediately, her senses were heightened, her body humming with anticipation.
"Close the door and lock it," Olivia commanded, as she kicked her feet down, and casually rose from her seat. Even in jeans and a simple silk t-shirt, Olivia's physique was commanding. It molded to her sensuous curves, accenting them so exquisitely Natalia's breath caught, as her throat grew tight with want.
Natalia gulped audibly, turned back toward the door, and did as she was instructed. The click of the lock was remarkably loud in the quiet of the room. And then the only sound she could hear was the rushing of want, echoing in her every breath. God, Olivia was beautiful, and Natalia's gaze never left Olivia's, as she watched her, slinking across the room like a wildcat on the prowl.
The barest hint of a smile played at the corners of Olivia's mouth. She had been thinking about this, planning it, for days. Ever since Natalia's unexpected… request. And now it was time.
"Liv?" Natalia quietly question, her tone tremulous.
"Turn around," Olivia instructed, her tone barely containing the surge of desire that swelled within her. "Press your palms against the door." It wasn't a request.
Again, Natalia complied, and Olivia moved in right behind her.
Flush up against Natalia's back, Olivia pressed against her, her crotch tight against Natalia's ass. Curling an arm around her hip, her fingertips found the seam of Natalia's jeans. Slowly, she traced along the edge, teasing just enough to make Natalia grow hard.
Natalia shuddered, a deep groan escaping her lungs at the unfamiliar bulge against her ass, as Olivia rocked against her.
Brushing aside Natalia's curtain of dark waves, Olivia skimmed her mouth against the shell of one ear. "Welcome to Impolite Sex 101," she husked, as her hands made quick work of burrowing beneath Natalia's blouse and bra. Grasping her breasts, she squeezed, as she ground herself against Natalia's ass, earning an immediate whimper of surprise, closely followed by a groan of pleasure.
Olivia's clitoris twitched in response. Growing impossibly harder, it strained against the base of the phallus, as wetness pooled between her legs. "I'm going to fill you so completely, you'll think I'm tearing you in two," she vowed in a tone so sultry, Natalia nearly came just from the promise of it.
Her body flushed with heat, her eyes glazing over, as Olivia's touch made her nipples harden, almost to the point of pain. "Can we just cut to the chase, and make this a 6000 level course, already?" she growled, her body already teeming with want. "I'm losing my mind here."
A husky laugh fell from Olivia's lips. And taking Natalia's challenge to heart, she answered not with words, but with actions…
Monday, June 22, 2009… Company—11:45 a.m. Central Daylight Time
"I seriously can't thank you enough," Toni said to Jen and Tracy for what seemed like the thousandth time since they left the courthouse.
"We were glad to help, Toni," Tracy said warmly.
They had invited her to join them for a late breakfast, not because they were hungry, but because they thought she could use a little moral support. As they'd left the courtroom, the sound of Diane's voice echoed out through the thick double doors, a howling string of accusations hurled at her daughter—everything from the fact that she was a liar, to a traitor, to a whore.
Already overwhelmed by the generosity of the woman she had falsely accused of such a heinous crime, the verbal attack from her own mother, while not surprising, had been her unraveling. Despite the outburst though, it had been tough for her to leave her mother there to fend for herself. Their relationship was a complicated one. Always had been, and probably always would be. Still, Toni loved her. And she was torn.
Setting her fork down, Toni leaned back in the booth, regarding the two women with a mixture of curiosity and reverence. "Even after everything my mother… and I… did to hurt you?"
Her forearms pressed against the edge of the table, Tracy leaned forward, as if to share a secret. "I still don't really know why your mom hates me so much; but whatever her reason, it has nothing to do with you."
Toni lowered her gaze, focusing on the woodgrain of the tabletop. "What if it does?" she asked. "Would you still be this nice to me?"
"What do you mean?" Tracy asked curiously.
"She blames you for making me gay," Toni quietly confessed.
Glancing at Tracy, a hearty laugh fell from Jen's lips, joining Tracy's own deep belly laugh. Where had they heard that before?
Toni tilted her head, regarding them both with curiosity. "I don't get it," she said. "Why is that so funny?"
Tears of laughter trickled down Jen's face, as she stole a glance at Tracy, grinning again. And then she met Toni's questioning gaze. "Apparently Miss Jackson here has some mad lesbian conversion superpower, or something," she said teasingly.
Grinning, Tracy pushed Jen's shoulder. "Hey, now…" she muttered playfully.
"My parents accused her of the same thing with me," Jen explained.
A spontaneous grin flashed across Toni's lips, her entire face lighting up. "Oh…" Her mouth held the shape of the utterance long after the sound ceased.
"Exactly," Jen said, shaking her head.
"Trust me, it's no superpower," Tracy declared, her eyes falling on Toni for a moment. And then she glanced at Jen. "As I recall, I had to work it pretty hard to get you into my bed."
Jen laughed easily. As I recall, it was the floor… and it was fabulous, and far overdue. "You were determined, I'll give you that," she teased.
Toni smiled genuinely, joining them in another round of laughter. She loved how easy, how comfortable they were with one another. Visibly, she relaxed as she laughed with them. Someday, she hoped she would share that with someone special.
The worry lines that seemed etched into Toni's brow and around her thin lips seemed to evaporate when she smiled. It wasn't lost on either Jen or Tracy, how attractive the younger woman was when she relaxed, and let herself just… be. They both hoped she would somehow find peace, despite the turmoil caused by her mother.
Absently, Toni fiddled with a spare straw. "So… would it be okay if I joined you for Thursday night basketball sometime?" she asked tentatively. "I really kind of miss it."
A warm smile spread across Tracy's face. "You're welcome anytime, Toni," she said sincerely.
Breathing a deep sigh of relief, Toni smiled again. "Thanks," she said with deep appreciation. Suddenly, things were looking up in the world.
Monday, June 22, 2009… Olivia's Office, the Beacon—12:15 pm. Central Daylight Time
Forty-five minutes later, hair and clothing disheveled, Natalia released a deep sigh of contentment, as she snuggled against Olivia's side. Her body still hummed from the intensity of the orgasms Olivia had so skillfully orchestrated—against the door, bent over the desk, straddling Olivia's thighs on the sofa—all while still mostly clothed. She still couldn't figure out how they had managed that, but finally, she knew, unequivocally, what it meant to be thoroughly, well…
She blushed at the thought, but oh, was it glorious!
At first, she had been surprised by the presence of an unfamiliar protrusion, pressing against her ass. And dark eyes had widened in shocked curiosity upon her initial sighting of the source. Never in her life would she have imagined something like that existed! But she hadn't questioned, she simply submitted, allowing Olivia to take full control.
Thoroughly sated, she grinned now, as she bit at the sweat-soaked skin beneath Olivia's right ear. "So… is this what one might consider a 'nooner'," she asked playfully. She could swear she heard the chorus of Afternoon Delight crooning somewhere in the background.
Olivia glanced at the clock, and then she laughed. "If we play our cards right, we could turn it into an all-after-nooner," she enticed, her tone a low husk.
"What about Lena and Bianca?"
"Lena's caught up with some business for M-K Financial," Olivia answered. "And Bianca took the girls back to the farmhouse. She's not expecting any of us home until around five."
Swinging one leg over Olivia's body, Natalia sat upright, straddling her hips once again. Shifting just slightly to get a good angle, she rubbed her still-swollen clitoris against the ribbed underside of the phallus that still stood tall and proud between Olivia's legs. It wasn't very big, as far as such things went, but it had done the job with surprising flair, Olivia thought. If the expression on Natalia's face the first time Olivia entered her had been any clue, Natalia seemed to agree. Even now, they both groaned at the sensation, and Natalia felt herself grow impossibly wetter. "You mentioned something about a game of cards?" she said, her voice sultry.
"Mm…"
"Whose turn is it to deal?"
A perfectly chiseled eyebrow arched. "Natalia, are you suggesting that you'd like to…"
Natalia's face flushed at the insinuation, and she felt accompanying heat suffuse her entire body. Shyly, she bit her lower lip. And then she nodded. "If… that's something you'd like."
Olivia's pupils dilated and she felt the heat of wanton desire flood her body, coalescing in the pit of her stomach. She leaned forward, brushing her mouth along the shell of Natalia's ear. "You surprise me, in so many wonderful ways," she whispered.
Draping her arms around Olivia's neck, Natalia leaned in, running her mouth along the slope of Olivia's neck, up to her ear, where she nipped lightly. "Is that a 'yes'?" she husked.
A soft groan slipped from Olivia's lips. It was all the encouragement Natalia needed to hear. They didn't leave Olivia's office until it was time to go home for the night.
Monday, June 22, 2009… Highway 55, Southern Illinois—1:45 a.m. Central Daylight Time
Patchy shards of moonlight bled through reluctant crevices, fracturing the dense cloud-cover that swallowed the late-night sky, as Langston Malloy cruised along a familiar stretch of Interstate 55, heading north toward Springfield from the barren woodlands of Southern Illinois. A desperate need for escape after the late-night encounter with her wife had led her on an impromptu camping excursion, driving her deep into the thicket near Carlyle Lake, an hour northeast of the sleepy village of Oakdale.
She didn't know why in hell she'd chosen that destination. Or perhaps she did, and just didn't want to face it. Either way, she knew now that it had been a colossal mistake. She and Dani had camped there numerous times from adolescence well into their marriage, and being there without her had been torturous, at best.
The memories were relentless, as they engulfed her, flooding her with the renewed anguish of a loss she thought she'd buried years ago. Dani used to laugh and say that if they could be stinky and sweaty together, looking like hell while battling all manner of unanticipated trials, from malfunctioning camp stoves to the wrath of Mother Nature in the springtime, and come out still loving one another, well then, they just might be able to weather any storm that life might throw their way.
Dani had been wrong.
Or had she?
Regardless, it had been a dismal weekend, to say the least—and it had nothing to do with the relentless rains that pounded the earth for two solid days and nights. Nearly Forty-eight hours. That's how long it had been since Dani walked out the door of Langston's apartment. Forty-eight hours of emptiness ensued, and like the rising of floodwaters, the loneliness engulfed her with a fierceness she had never before experienced.
The light, sweet scent of Dani—jasmine and roses—still lingered, as Langston lay in her tent at night, wrapped in the sleeping bag she had shared so many nights with Dani—the one where they'd made love more times than she could count. She could still feel the imprint of Dani's body against her own. The weight of a thigh draped across her own, her warm breath whispering across Langston's collarbone, the teasing of soft, dark curls against her nipples, the subtle press of firm breasts and tight nipples against her chest, the tender caress of fingertips along her taut abdomen, dipping down just shy of that patch of dark curls at the apex of her legs, the way Dani always touched her in the afterglow of their lovemaking.
She groaned as her body reacted to the phantom touches that lingered in the darkened pathways of her mind, echoing in the solitary corridors of her shattered heart. How was it that the mere memory of Dani's touch could beget a physical response so intense it nearly made her come? Christ, it was maddening!
When sleep refused her for a third night in a row, she had risen from her sleeping bag, absurdly aroused and beyond frustrated. Gathering the few supplies she had taken with her, she packed up her saturated tent as best she could, and fired up the engine on her Harley. Running away had to be better than wallowing in confusion, regret, and maddening want, right?
Right.
Thirty minutes later, she was flying northward on the highway toward home. She had a shift in the morning anyway, she reasoned, and the sooner she got back to Springfield and back on shift, the sooner she could distract herself from the memories, and dispel the irritatingly profound sense of aloneness that had engulfed her.
The pavement, still wet from the recent rains drew a familiar hum from the tires of Langston's motorcycle. Had she not been so accustomed to staying in tune with her surroundings, it might have lulled her into a sense of complacency—an attempt to ward off the continual swirling of her thoughts, and the persistent ache that had taken up residence in her chest—not to mention those other places where the roaring of that powerful engine between her legs was doing absolutely nothing to abate.
Jesus Christ, Langston, get a grip, she silently chastised when in an unguarded moment, she could have sworn she felt the heat and strength of Dani's thighs settling against her hips as she wrapped her arms around Langston's waist, burying her face in Langston's neck the way she always did when they rode together.
Focus.
Yes. That's what she had to do.
Focus.
It was the willful return toward mindfulness that drew her attention to the headlights that lingered in the distance, the ominous glow of those stark white bulbs slicing through the darkness that surrounded her. She watched in her side-view mirror, as steadily, they drew near, taunting her like a cat on the prowl.
Her heart raced double-time, and beads of sweat formed on her brow beneath the protectiveness of her helmet.
Squeezing the clutch with her left hand, she kicked the bike down into fourth gear with her left foot—a strategic move designed to help her quickly gain speed, and thus, distance. And as she released the clutch, gunning the engine with her right hand, the bike shot forward, even as she caught the gleam of gun metal reflecting in her mirror as the barrel of a sniper's rifle appeared…
Monday, June 22, 2009… Danika Kováč's Room, The Beacon—1:45 a.m. Central Daylight Time
More than one hundred miles away, Danika Kováč felt the sharp tension of impending release building between her legs. Her entire body was enraptured, her skin tingling in those places where Langston's hands, and mouth, and tongue had recently traveled. She moaned softly, tightening the grip she held on those short, dark locks, as Langston's mouth devoured her with a voracious hunger. "Langston…" she growled, her hips rising from the bed. "Oh, god, don't stop… I'm coming, oh, I'm…"
Out of nowhere, she was shaken from sleep, sitting bolt-upright in bed. Her clitoris jerked and pulsed between her legs, even as a sense of fear so devastating she couldn't even breathe, gripped her, squeezing malevolently in her chest.
"Langston…" she murmured, as a cascade of tears began to fall…
TBC in Chapter 16: A Few Fireworks of Our Own…