"Darling! Please… help!"
Within seconds, the bedroom door shot open and a panicked Elisabeth barged in, eyes wide and frantic and brush of mascara still in hand.
"What is it?" she panted, already scanning Manuela for potential injuries.
"Oh -nothing bad," the other woman assured with an embarrassed chuckle. "Only… can you help me with this?"
She lifted her hand and Elisabeth's eyes fell on the crumpled piece of fabric that, once, must have looked like a bowtie. She took a step back, considering Manuela's attire. She was wearing an impeccable white dress shirt and tight fitted black trousers. She glanced at the chair in front of the vanity and noted the presence of the dark jacket that was supposed to complete the outfit.
"You're not wearing this," Elisabeth said flatly.
"Of course I am."
"Don't you think this is a bit…" -too much? Unladylike? Inappropriate?
No remark came out however, and the older woman sighed in defeat, aware that arguing with Manuela on such matters was useless, but still concerned at her blatant disregard for conventions. It seemed that Manuela delighted –and increasingly so- in bending the rules, and although admittedly endearing, this little quirk also kept challenging Elisabeth's traditional constitution. Dressing in men's clothes regularly was only one of Manuela's ways of thumbing her nose at what was considered by most proper lady etiquette. Earlier this spring, the younger woman had gone as far as to come home with her hair cropped just above the chin, which assuredly, had left Elisabeth scandalized.
"What have you done?" she had shrieked, seizing Manuela by the shoulders even as she was still standing in the doorway in her boots and coat.
"Oh come on! Everyone does it these days. It feels so –so liberating!"
"What have you done to your hair?" Elisabeth had repeated, aghast, as her eyes had started welling up uncontrollably.
Instead of being offended or embarrassed, Manuela had calmly taken Elisabeth's hands in hers, and placed it around her own neck.
"Touch it. See how it feels."
The older woman had let out a desperate sigh but let tentative fingers start their timid journey up, almost of their own volition, brushing against soft skin and, finally, daring to plunge into shorter, but still silky strands of chestnut hair. It had felt pleasantly different, almost forbidden as if touching someone else and yet safe, reassuringly familiar.
"So?" Manuela had asked, eyes closing at the feeling of gentle fingers buried in her hair. "Do you hate it?"
Hearing no answer, she had reopened her eyes after a moment and had been surprised, albeit exceptionally satisfied, to see the adoration –and maybe a bit of lust, in Elisabeth's gaze.
"No…" she had finally confessed. "I don't hate it at all."
Manuela, used by now to her wife's way with euphemisms, had thrown her head back in laughter.
"Then, maybe you would consider cutting yours short, too?"
Manuela still remembered the look of disapproval she had received at the suggestion, a look convincing enough that the younger woman had not dared bring up the issue ever again. She watched as Elisabeth finally took hold of the bow with a playful roll of her eyes.
"Don't move," she ordered as she went to work and started tying it around Manuela's neck expertedly. "If you're planning on dressing up as a gentleman routinely now, don't you think it is time you learn how to do this yourself?"
"What's the fun in doing it myself, when I get to do this?" Manuela said and she placed her arms over Elisabeth's shoulders, bringing her close to kiss her lips softly. Without her heels on, her wife was only slightly smaller, something Manuela always took impossible pride in.
"Be careful, Manuela," Elisabeth warned, her voice low.
"Afraid I will smudge your lipstick?"
"No, I'm afraid if you keep this up, I might have to take this bowtie off altogether. As well as the rest of the suit."
This made Manuela's smug smile drop, her eyes suddenly clouding with desire and she rushed forward for a resolutely more passionate kiss, the eventuality of any lipstick smudges totally forgotten.
"You know… I don't necessarily have to go…" she breathed when they parted, letting her forehead rest against Elisabeth's.
"None of this," Elisabeth cut with finality, but she could barely conceal the longing in her voice at the perspective of staying in tonight.
With Manuela's hectic schedule, their time together was scarce and was only growing scarcer these days. Neither of them turned down the possibility of skipping an event in favour of staying home together whenever they could, but tonight was an exception –it was the traditional gathering after a play's final representation. Even if Manuela wanted to –which she admittedly did not- she could not miss the little celebration that meant so much to her and her fellow actors. It was simply a tiny reunion amongst friends, but it was always joyful and did a lot to lift the troupe's spirits.
"I miss you," Manuela still whimpered, visibly not ready to release her hold on Elisabeth's shoulders.
"As do I. Which is why I'm coming along tonight, although you know how much I dislike social affairs…"
"Oh, you love it," Manuela laughed, bringing the other woman closer for one final kiss. "You get to chaperone me and keep count of how many drinks I have."
"Well, someone has to," Elisabeth hissed, stepping out of the embrace a bit regretfully. "Since my sister is as reckless and incapable of restraint as you are…"
A fleeting memory of the last time she and Ida had come home after such party, quite inebriated indeed, came back to Manuela and she bit back a laugh. They had tried their best to make as little noise as possible upon letting themselves in, which had been quite the achievement considering Manuela had dragged along a gigantic and decrepit potted plant from the entrance hall, claiming she refused to watch it die slowly without doing anything. At last, both had collapsed exhausted in the nearest couch or armchair and fallen asleep in the same breath. The most interesting part had been a few hours later, when they had been woken up quite vehemently by their very displeased downstairs neighbour, Mrs Hugget, and come to the cloudy, but shameful realisation that they had entered the wrong flat the night before.
"We might be a little prone to… excessiveness, your sister and I," she admitted, but the glimmer in her eyes was proof that she felt no shame whatsoever.
Elisabeth only tutted and turned on her heels without further ado, disappearing once again in the bathroom. She came out a moment later, makeup fully done this time and wearing an elegant, albeit simple deep burgundy gown.
"You are gorgeous," Manuela said right away, gleaming eyes roaming appreciatively over her wife's figure.
Elisabeth smiled, this almost shy but knowing smile Manuela loved so much and nodded towards her.
"Would you like a touch of lipstick?"
"Please," she replied without hesitation.
Elisabeth exited the room again and came back, lipstick in hand.
"Allow me?" she offered in a whisper, and Manuela could only nod as she stood completely still, heart suddenly hammering as Elisabeth took a gentle hold of her jaw with one hand, and made her purse her lips slightly with the other.
"Just a touch, right?" Elisabeth asked again, leaning slightly backwards to examine her work.
Unable to nod or speak any longer, the younger woman closed her eyes in silent agreement and remained religiously immobile until her wife was done, letting herself enjoy the intimacy of the moment.
"Thank you," she murmured when Elisabeth stepped back with a grin.
Finally, she reached for her jacket and put it on, looking at her reflection in the mirror and adjusting the garment with great care.
"What do you think?" she asked, turning to the older woman with extended arms.
Elisabeth took a moment to study Manuela, to fully appraise her. Her strong Manuela, independent and fierce, who was wearing tuxedos and her hair short, who was smoking and drinking too much, and laughing too loud at her male fellow comedian's crass jokes when she thought Elisabeth couldn't hear. Her fragile Manuela, delicate and raw, who still cried whenever she looked at her mother's photograph for too long, who curled up a bit more tightly against her side during summer storms, who bought her flowers every Sunday without fail, and closed her eyes when Elisabeth did her makeup. Regardless of the circumstances, and unlike herself, Manuela never cheated, never pretended. She remained true to herself, paying no heed to the rules of so-called propriety. Oftentimes, Elisabeth found herself envying this liberty, wishing she could be as carefree and immune to other people's opinion of her. Manuela was undeniably complex and flawed, but most importantly she was beautiful and honest and in her own way…
"Perfect," Elisabeth finally let out, pleased at Manuela's sharp intake of breath and pinkening cheeks.
"Shall we, then?" she said, offering her arm. Elisabeth took it without hesitation, letting Manuela lead the way with strange anticipation.