Charlie and her daddy stay two more nights. Brenda calls out of work on Friday so she can spend the day with them and they'll have Saturday too. They'll leave Sunday morning so Charlie can get back in time for her Monday class. But she has them for two days and that's worth something. Sharon has to work Friday, but she promises to meet them for dinner. She and Clay seem to have become friendly - apparently she'd talked to him quite a bit in arranging for them to come out for her birthday.
Brenda floats several ideas - Disneyland, the beach, the movies, but Clay takes one look around her apartment and orders Charlie to look up open houses on Brenda's laptop.
"Oh daddy," she says. "This place is fine. I like it here."
"It's tiny," Clay says. "You don't even have space for us to stay with you. We had to get a hotel room!"
"It's a real nice one," Charlie jumps in, trying to mediate. "Sharon booked the room for us."
"I know this is not ideal, but I just don't have time and you know, daddy, I'm never home all that much anyway," Brenda says. And that certainly used to be the case when she was still on the force and working a detective's hours but while she does work long weekdays, she's home nearly every weekend. He looks at her like he can smell her bullshit a mile away.
"Okay," Charlie says. "This website lets you input some parameters - house specifications, neighborhood, architectural style. You can even put in your credit score and your salary and a down payment and it can predict how much you should spend."
Brenda sticks her thumbnail into her mouth and holds it between her teeth. "Really?"
"Yeah," she says. "Okay, sit here and fill in everything you know."
"We really don't have to do this now," Brenda says. Clay is walking the perimeter of her living room, gazing up at the ceiling with a look of consternation.
"That crack," he says. "That been here the whole time?"
"I dunno, daddy," she says, exasperation creeping in. "I've only been here a little over a year."
"Hmm," he says. "Single paned windows, too." He knocks hard on the glass and it rattles through Brenda's teeth. "You always have this much noise from upstairs?"
"Only when you're here," she mutters, plopping into the chair Charlie vacated for her. Charlie smirks. "Where are my glasses?"
"Here," Charlie says, grabbing them off the kitchen counter and handing them to Brenda. She slips them on her face and gazes at the screen. Starts to peck things in the field. "Seriously?" Charlie squawks behind her. "Seriously?"
"What?" Brenda asks.
"That's your salary?" Charlie says.
"That girl Sharon," her daddy says. "Her condominium is nice. Maybe you could do something like that!"
"Maybe there's an empty unit in her building," Charlie says.
"Okay, wait, stop," Brenda says. "I'm two blocks away and you think I don't live close enough to Sharon?"
Charlie rolls her eyes. "We just like her, that's all, and she seems to make you happy, too."
"I don't think I'm a condo person," Brenda says. She rubs her face in frustration. "I wish I had never sold my house out here in the first place!"
"Why did you?" Charlie asks.
"Fritz," she says, trying not to spit the name. "The house was perfectly fine for two people but he didn't like things that weren't his idea in the first place."
"What was it like?" Charlie asks.
"It was a craftsman," she says. "Furnished. Good neighborhood. It was only two bedrooms, one bath, but it would've been fine."
"So let's look in that neighborhood," Charlie says. "That house is gone, but there's gotta be something similar."
"Buying a house in Los Angeles," Brenda says, shaking her head. "It's like tryin' strike gold except instead of a river and gold pan you have a sidewalk and, and… a toothpick, oh, I don't know, Charlie, it's really hard!"
"Your incredible metaphors aside," Charlie says dryly. "It's not gonna hurt anything to look."
"Your friend Sharon," Clay says. "What does she think of this place?"
"She likes it fine," Brenda says tersely. She's happy her father likes Sharon, she's happy everyone seems to be falling all over themselves over how great Sharon is, lord knows that's a lesson she's finally learned but it's a delicate balance. It's hard to be around her family and Sharon at the same time. She feels like she's being pulled in too many directions. Like if she looks at Sharon too long or not long enough, everything about how she feels will become visible, just marching right across her face. She might be the best liar this side of the Mississippi, but as far as Sharon is concerned, Brenda never quite feels like she has a handle on things.
"Hmm," Clay says. "You must spend a lot of time at her place."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she snaps, looking up from the computer screen.
"I just mean she seems too classy to spend time in this place," Clay says. "You're the most successful of all my children and you're livin' here, I just can't fathom-"
"You don't like it! Daddy! Loud and clear!" she says.
"Grandpa," Charlie says. "Why don't we let Aunt Brenda fill out her form and we'll go pick up lunch. I'll drive. Come on."
Brenda is grateful, nods. "Thank you. Yes, that'd be fine. Here, hon, take my keys." She waves at her purse and Charlie goes over and digs them out.
"Come on, Grandpa," she says. "We can look up real estate agents on yelp while we're out."
The moment they're gone, Brenda calls Sharon.
"Raydor," she answers, though it's her cell phone so she knows good and well it's Brenda on the other end.
"Have I thanked you for my birthday gift yet?" she snaps.
"Yes," Sharon says.
"Thank you," she says. "Thank you so much."
Sharon chuckles. "Is the honeymoon over?"
"No," she says. "It's just daddy hates my apartment and now they want to go house hunting but I'm not sure I'm ready for all of that."
"Maybe, but you know that makes good financial sense," she says. "To buy rather than rent."
"I know," Brenda says. It's not like she hasn't been thinking about it.
"But you don't like change," Sharon says. "I get it. You've had a lot of change… recently."
"Anywhere I move would be moving away from you," she says in a rush. "I don't want that."
"If you find a place that you like, we'll talk about it okay?" Sharon says. "In the mean time, try to enjoy your very elaborate and complicated gift and I'll see you tonight for dinner."
"Where do you want to go? I can make a reservation," she says.
"No need, I was planning on cooking," Sharon says.
"You just did, I can't ask you to do it again," Brenda says.
"It's my pleasure," she says. "But I have to go so if you can survive today, just come over around seven."
"Okay," she says. "I- okay. Bye."
She hangs up and puts her phone down, horrified with herself.
What had she almost just said?
oooo
Brenda is so high strung and worn out by the time they get to Sharon's building that she forgets to buzz up and just unlocks the lobby door with her key. No one says anything but she can see her father thinking about it all the way up to the 11th floor. Charlie shoots ahead when the elevator opens and is the first one at the door - she knocks and smiles back at Brenda.
Rusty opens the door and says, "Hey."
"Hey," Charlie says with a smile.
"Come on in. Hi, Mr. Johnson," he says. "Chief Investigator."
"Mr. Beck," Brenda says.
They all file in and Sharon greets them from the kitchen. Brenda gets a flash of her own mother in the kitchen back in Atlanta at Christmas time in her ruffled red apron, sees it right over Sharon in her own kitchen. Sharon's red apron isn't ruffled but the feeling she gets is just the same. Like coming home.
"Hi guys," she says. "Come in, come in. What can I get you to drink?"
It takes a while to get her alone, but eventually Charlie and Rusty go out on the balcony and her father uses the restroom so Brenda all but drags Sharon into her bedroom and closes the door behind them.
"Hi," Sharon says.
"We looked at three houses," Brenda says.
"Great," Sharon says a little uncertainly. "Did you like any of them?"
"I guess," Brenda says. "There was a three bed, two bath that was nice but I dunno."
"And this is some sort of bedroom only secret you needed to share?" Sharon asks, with a smile that Brenda knows is supposed to calm her down.
"No I just… I just…" Brenda can't help it - her chin starts to wobble, her eyes filling.
"Okay," Sharon says, putting her arms around Brenda and pulling her into a hug. "It's hard, I know. I remember. Fifty is hard."
"Oh, I'm fine," she says, but she hugs back hard. "I just don't know why you put up with me, that's all."
Sharon chuckles.
"No really," Brenda says. "Why do you?"
Sharon pulls back and looks at her, that concerned line between her perfect eyebrows. "Because you're Brenda."
"What does that mean?" Brenda asks.
"It means you're my best friend. You're my…" Sharon shakes her head. "You're everything to me, you're what I thought I could never have." She smiles, runs her hands down Brenda's arms. "And Rusty trusts you and I do too." She leans in and kisses just the corner of her mouth. "We will continue this conversation after your family has gone home."
Brenda nods. "Okay."
"And if you like that house, I'll come look at it with you," Sharon promises. "Come on, now. I made brownies."
"With frosting?" Brenda asks, sniffling a little.
"Don't push your luck," Sharon says, opening the door. Clay is sitting on the sofa, alone in the living room.
"I was starting to worry I'd been abandoned," he says.
"Nonsense," Sharon says. "If I made coffee, would you have some?"
"I reckon I would," Clay says. Brenda goes to the sliding glass door and pulls it open just enough to stick her head out. Rusty and Charlie are hunched over one tiny, glowing phone screen, laughing.
"What are you two doin' out here?" she asks.
"Watching vines," Charlie says.
"What's that mean?" Brenda asks.
"Internet stuff," Rusty says. Which means he's not going to waste time explaining it to her.
"Y'all come back in and get some dessert," she says. "And then I'll take you guys back to the hotel."
"Can I stay in the apartment with you tonight?" Charlie asks. "Grandpa snores." Brenda glances back to the kitchen where Sharon is standing over her glass tray of brownies, spreading white frosting over the top.
"Sure," Brenda says. "Whatever you want, kiddo."
When her daddy is in his hotel room and Charlie and Brenda are home, tucked into her bed in the dark, Charlie says, "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course," she says.
"It's not really a question," Charlie says. "It's more about something Rusty said tonight when we were outside."
"Okay," Brenda says, starting to feel a little nervous.
"About Sharon," she says. "And about you."
Brenda is silent and sucks her bottom lip in between her teeth.
"Rusty seems to think that Sharon has like, a crush on you?" Charlie says.
Brenda exhales, laughing nervously. "We're best friends," Brenda says. "We're very close."
"Yeah, that's what I thought, too," Charlie says. "He thinks you have a crush on her too."
Brenda clenches at the comforter in her hands.
"I mean, or whatever you call it when you're not a kid anymore. Do adults get crushes?" she asks, but it's rhetorical and Brenda doesn't answer. "She is very pretty."
"Charlie-"
"I was like, well what evidence do you have, Rusty?" Charlie says. "And then he actually laid out a pretty compelling case, I gotta say."
"What did he say?" Brenda hears herself demand.
"Well, that you guys have keys to each other's apartments," Charlie says.
"That's a safety issue!"
"And that Sharon comes over here a lot at strange times," Charlie says.
"She works very abnormal hours," Brenda says.
"That you're always getting ready for stuff together and touching each other's hair and sharing makeup and stuff," Charlie says.
"For cryin' out loud, Charlene," Brenda says, relaxing a little. "That's just called being friends."
"And he saw you kiss her once," Charlie says.
"What?" Brenda squeaks. "When?"
"Ha!" Charlie says. "Do you kiss her?"
"This is really… this is not really something we should…" Brenda says helplessly.
"I kissed a girl once," Charlie says. "Sophomore year at a party. It was okay. Like, it wasn't as weird as I thought it was going to be but I also didn't feel like it was amazing or anything."
Brenda sits up, pushes her hair out of her face and turns on the lamp. Charlie looks up at her with squinting eyes.
"Oh no, you're mad," she says.
"Where did he see us kissing?" she demands.
"In the car, I think," she says. "Like you were dropping Sharon off and you guys just leaned in. That's all he told me."
That isn't so bad, she thinks. That can be explained away. Friends kiss, even. Lean in, friendly pecks. Hello, goodbye.
"Listen," Brenda says. "It's not… it's not like we're lying."
"Holy crap," Charlie says, sitting up with her hand over her mouth. "I thought he was being paranoid. But you guys are actually dating?"
"No," Brenda says. "No! It ain't like that. We're just friends. Just… really good friends."
"So you're doing a friends with benefits thing," Charlie says.
Brenda shakes her head. "I don't-"
"You're just having sex," Charlie clarifies.
Brenda wants to say no, that it's not like that either but she realizes it's exactly like that. They're best friends and when they're alone they have sex but they don't go on traditional dates, they don't hold hands in public, they're not girlfriends, they're not a couple.
"Somethin' like that," Brenda whispers.
"Wow," Charlie says. "Wow, Aunt Brenda. That's so hipster of you."
Brenda shakes her head. "You can't tell Rusty, honey, you just can't."
"How is that not lying?" she asks.
"It's up to Sharon to explain it to him," Brenda says. "He isn't like you and me. He didn't grow up in a good home and he needs time to process things. Sharon is his mama and she gets to decide about stuff like this for him. So I don't care if he asked you to snoop around or figure something out but you can't tell him."
Charlie nods.
"Or grandpa!" she says.
"Yeah, like I want to talk about gay sex with grandpa, get real," Charlie says, flopping back onto the bed. Brenda cross her arms, rubs her hands over her biceps. "It's not a big deal. As long as you're happy or whatever. I really like Sharon, actually. She's cool."
"She is cool," Brenda says, and reaches over to turn the lamp off again.
"So you're not in love or anything?" Charlie says. "It's just benefits?"
"It's complicated," Brenda says. "It's not like we're teenagers anymore. We have careers to think about. We can't just… change our minds and… come out." But guilt gurgles in her tummy as she says this because she has no idea what Sharon thinks of any of it and hasn't spent enough time thinking on it to know how she really feels, either.
"People can get married now," Charlie says. "It's not like it used to be."
"You don't know this yet," Brenda says sadly. "But we both work in fields that are very male and it's just not that different for women, yet. Not really."
"That's shitty," Charlie says. "You know who would have really liked Sharon? Grandma."
"Oh, she does," Brenda says. "Did, I mean. She did. They met once."
"I miss her," Charlie says, rolling over onto her side.
"Me too," Brenda says.
oooo
A courier drops off a package for Brenda to her office - her assistant has to go down to the lobby to sign for it and brings it up, knocking lightly on her door and bringing it in.
"Where's it from?" Brenda asks. Sarah looks down with a frown.
"The mayor's office," she says. "Were you expecting something?"
"No," she says. She sticks the whole package into her purse and stands. "Whatever it is is gonna have to wait."
She forgets about it until she gets home and sees it in her bag while she's reaching in for her house keys. She pushes open the door and is just reaching into her bag to pull the thick brown envelope out when she realizes someone is in her apartment.
"Hello, stranger."
"Sharon!" she says. "You're here! But it isn't even dark!"
"We wrapped up our case today," she says. "I should've called but Rusty has his evening class tonight, so…" She trails off. "Did you have plans?"
"No," Brenda reassures her. "It's good. I've been meaning to talk to you about something."
This causes Sharon to close up real quick. Brenda can see it as clear as anything - can read Sharon's body language just as easy as she'd gobbled up that German romance novel on the plane ride home. But while it's her first tempting instinct to lie or to charm, with Sharon she's been working so hard to play it straight. To be honest because honesty is something that Sharon values.
"Oh?" she says.
"Nothin' bad," Brenda says. "You hungry? We could order somethin'."
Sharon looks frustrated, her lips tight but nods. "That would be nice."
Brenda points to the take-out menu drawer and says, "I'm going to go change."
She puts on jeans and leaves the tank top she'd been wearing under her blazer on, replaces it with a light sweater. Takes her hair down and shakes it out. It's gotten long again, long enough that sometimes she gets headaches from having up all day. She's due for a trim, for a whole spa day, maybe. She glances through the open bedroom door at Sharon who is looking through glossy menus, one hand on her small waist. Maybe that's something they could do together? Before she wouldn't have hesitated - friends go to the spa! But now, she worries it might seem too much like something a couple would do and frustration wells up inside of her. This is the problem! This is what they need to talk about and Brenda knows herself enough to know she's never wanted to talk about anything like this before with previous partners, so why now, with Sharon, does she feel willing to lay it all on the line?
"I'm fine with Chinese," she says. "It's the fastest."
Brenda nods, reaches for her phone in her purse.
"Wait -" Sharon says. "Wait. If you have something serious to talk about that's going to end up with me wanting to leave, I'd just as soon not order dinner first."
Brenda sets her phone back down and Sharon squints her eyes, the lines that Brenda loves so much deepening at her temples.
"I see," she says.
"No," Brenda says. "I'm not… it's not bad! I just want to talk about Charlie's visit and Rusty."
Sharon blinks, surprised. "You want to talk about Charlie and Rusty," she repeats.
"Listen," Brenda says, stepping up to her. Just so they're closer, just so if Sharon bolts, Brenda can have a fighting chance of hanging on to her. "I'm all for us figuring things out on our own. I'm all for privacy but I think maybe it would be better not to hide it from Rusty?"
"We're not," Sharon says. "We aren't hiding. We're just not advertising."
"Okay, well that's a fine line," Brenda says. "Regardless, he shared with Charlie his suspicions about… the nature of things between us. And she shared that with me. So I think it's a matter of time only, really, before he starts asking you questions about it. Do you know what you're gonna say?"
"I…" She shakes her head. "If he asked me straight out, I wouldn't lie to him."
"Nobody is calling you a liar," Brenda says. "But honey - he's so smart and observant and he's going to figure it out."
"He's a journalist," she whispers.
"And he's already got the story," Brenda agrees. "I'm not sayin' you sit him down and give him the play by play but maybe we just don't work so hard at hiding it? Give him something to ask about."
"Lead him down the garden path," Sharon says dryly. "I know how you work."
Brenda smirks. "Tried and true, though. Now, that's all I wanted to say about it. Let's order."
"Something to think about," Sharon says. But it's not until after they order, after Brenda uncorks a wine bottle and pours two glasses that Sharon picks up the conversational thread again and says, "I gave Rusty all the space in the world to come out to me. I never thought I'd have to figure out how to come out to him, too."
Brenda sits next to her on the sofa, leans in, nudges their knees together. "I'll keep whatever secrets you want."
"I don't want you to do that," she says. "I don't want keep secrets from him." She dips her head and smiles over her wine glass. "But a small part of me wants to keep you all for myself."
"Well you've got me right now," Brenda says. "What are you going to do with me?"
"Oh, you think you're cute," Sharon laughs. But she leans in, brushes her mouth against Brenda's. Teases for awhile, pulling away when Brenda leans in for more, smirking when Brenda whimpers.
"Mean," Brenda mutters. It doesn't matter anyway - the doorbell clangs, the food arrives and Sharon knows better than to stand between Brenda and food. Brenda turns on the television while they eat - if Sharon thinks anything about it coming on to HGTV, she keeps her opinions to herself. It used to drive Fritz crazy, how she liked to watch home improvement shows yet had no interest in improving her own home. But there's something comforting about watching other people pull their life together. Choose floors and paint colors and accent pillows. Value aesthetics as much as anything else in life.
"This is weirdly soothing," Sharon says.
"I know," Brenda agrees.
"This is your food network," Sharon says. "Or like when Rusty watches golf."
"Golf?" she says, surprised.
"I know, it is interesting," Sharon says. "I offered to get him lessons but he has no desire to play it. He just likes the commentators and how evenly paced everything is. Little ball in the little hole. Not so complicated."
"Hey whatever happened to that boy he was seein'?" Brenda asks. "Michael?"
"Hmm," Sharon says. "He didn't tell me exactly but it didn't work out. He's talking to someone else now and hasn't told me about that either but it's obvious. He's always texting someone."
"Like mother, like son, I guess," Brenda teases. Sharon glares and picks up their dishes. Brenda hops up to help, closing the containers and stacking them so she can carry them to the refrigerator. They clean efficiently together. Sharon rinses the dishes, Brenda wipes down the coffee table where they ate. It doesn't feel like a chore, it feels domestic. And Brenda knows that when they're done, Sharon will turn that laser focus back onto Brenda and lately it's been a very good thing.
"More wine?" Brenda offers.
"No," Sharon says, drying her hands on a kitchen towel and hanging it back up. "No, that's not what I want."
"Dessert?" Brenda says.
"Of a kind," Sharon replies, the corner over her mouth twitching.
"Oh, I think I know what you're after," Brenda says. "Follow me." Sharon trails her to her bedroom, shedding shoes and jacket along the way. It's all still so new and they don't know exactly how to ask for what they want, but they're figuring it out together. Brenda's bed is unmade, rumpled and her shoes are still on the floor by the closet door, her nightstand piled with books, bobby pins, reading glasses, a little ball of wadded up silver foil. None of this phases Sharon, she still kisses Brenda, still climbs into the bed with her, still bury's her hands deep into Brenda's hair.
She's pushing Brenda's sweater off her shoulders when she hesitates and says, "You're still okay with all of this, right?"
"Huh?" Brenda asks. She feels like she missed something - it's hard to think when she's blissed out on kisses and touching, when all she can smell and see and hear is Sharon. It's the best drug she's ever been on, that's for sure.
"This," Sharon says. "Sex. Us."
"Are you?" Brenda asks.
"I'm being serious," Sharon says. "I don't want you to feel like we can't stop because of my enthusiasm."
"That's very sweet," Brenda says. "But listen. Are you listening?"
Sharon rolls her eyes. "Yes."
"Good, because I want you to really hear me here," Brenda says.
"I'm listening!" Sharon says.
Brenda leans in, her mouth close enough to brush against Sharon's ear. "I want you to do real bad things to me, Captain."
Sharon closes her eyes, as if she needs just a moment to collect herself. Opens her eyes to see Brenda's wicked smile.
Kisses that smile right off of her face.
oooo
The after is good, too. The after is great. Still, Brenda wonders what it would be like to just roll over and fall asleep, her head pillowed on those perfect breasts. To tuck into Sharon for the rest of the night, to wake up to see that ivory skin still bare and bathed in the morning light. But Brenda doesn't ask her to stay because she understands that unlike herself, Sharon has someone to go home to. So she stays in bed, wrapped up in the bedsheet and watches Sharon hunt through the clothes on the floor. She picks up a pair of panties and then another - both black.
"Are these mine or yours?" she asks, finally. "Do we just have the same pair of underwear and were wearing them on the same day?"
"I dunno," Brenda says.
"What are the odds of that, do you think? I mean actually? The probability?"
"Put them both in the hamper and take a clean pair from the drawer and don't kill my buzz by asking me to do math," Brenda says. Sharon complies, pulls a pale pink pair from the drawer and steps into them. Brenda likes boyshorts and she's never seen Sharon in that cut before and it's cute. It makes her thighs look adorable. And she doesn't mean to do it, doesn't realize she's even out of bed until she's pressing Sharon up against the dresser, kissing her all over again. Sharon laughs into her mouth surprised, maybe, at her gusto and presses against her shoulder lightly.
"Brenda," she says. "I don't have time to start over."
"Yes you do," Brenda says, kissing her jaw instead. "I just need twenty more minutes." She claims lips again and she can feel Sharon's hesitation still, can feel the moment, too, that she gives in. Starts kissing back. It doesn't matter that they're still sticky and warm from the first time, it doesn't matter that Brenda is tired and she knows Sharon is too. There's something about those pink, lacy briefs that just does it for Brenda. She covers Sharon's bare breast with one hand and then slides it down her ribs, over her belly, right past the lace and the cotton. Sharon's head falls back.
"Careful," Sharon whispers. She's still sensitive, more sticky than slippery but Brenda can be gentle, too. She can ease one finger in, can press her hand against Sharon's swollen clit, can feel the new arousal mixing with the old. "Oh," Sharon breathes. Sucks in a fast breath when Brenda adds another finger. "Is it… is it because I'm wearing your underwear?" she manages.
"No," Brenda says, watching her face so carefully. Every time her eyebrows furrow, when her mouth goes slack with pleasure. "It's the pink."
Sharon groans and says, "Pink?"
Things are certainly slippery down there now. Brenda grins, moving her fingers faster and Sharon holds onto the dresser, now, so she has some support. Spreads her legs a little more and looks down where Brenda's hand is moving behind the pink fabric.
"I never see you wearin' pink," Brenda says. "It's sexy."
"It, uh," Sharon says, and Brenda can feel her clench down on her fingers a little, chasing the pleasure. "Clashes… hair." No more full sentences for Sharon. That's just fine, Brenda thinks. She dips her head to brush her lips over Sharon's collarbone, the little spray of freckles there. Sharon thrusts against the hand but then huffs a frustrated sigh. "I can't."
"Just relax," Brenda murmurs into flushed skin. She glances up at Sharon's face, flushed and glowing but she can see frustration there, like she's trying. Maybe it's too much - the standing and Brenda's insistent fingers. But there's something else they could try. Something Brenda's been thinking about. "Okay," she says instead and regretfully pushes down the panties. Sharon steps out of them, follows Brenda to the bed. "Sit down."
Sharon looks mildly concerned when Brenda yanks open her nightstand drawer, downright conflicted when Brenda pulls out a vibrator.
"Is everything you own pink?" Sharon asks. It's a deflection, Brenda can tell because Sharon crosses her arms and brings her knees together. The vibrator is simple, pink, shaped like a penis. Brenda had bought it on the internet ages ago, well before the divorce. She and Fritz had always played an elaborate game of both of them pretending like he didn't know it was there. They'd never used it together which makes it feel okay to bring it out now.
"Some things don't get made in pink," Brenda says, crawling onto the bed.
"That's, um, large," Sharon says, squinting at it.
"I wasn't planning on putting it inside you," Brenda says. "Unless that's something you want?"
"Maybe another time," Sharon says and isn't that something? Brenda files that away to think about later. She wonders if it's something Sharon misses. She does a little - not having something jammed up inside her as much as how much easier it is to ride an actual penis as opposed to a manufactured one. Getting the fake one not attached to anyone to stay still long enough is a challenge. Of course, now she's thinking about Sharon wearing a fake penis and it's weird, yes, but also weirdly hot? "Brenda?"
"Hmm?" she says, looking at Sharon.
"What do you want to do?" Sharon says pointing to the vibrator. "With that?"
Brenda sets it down on the bed because obviously Sharon is feeling a little threatened by it. She has to think for a moment about how to sit, but she pulls Sharon's legs until one of them is draped over hers and one under and then scooches until they're closer. It's not graceful, she can just tell by Sharon's suppressed smile that turns into a smirk but that smirk melts right off her face when she scoots in the last little bit and they slide together, all warm, slippery heat. They work together for a few moments, thrusting and moving against each other and it's pleasurable but it's not enough, not even when Sharon starts kissing her, not even when Sharon shifts so she can sit up and hug Brenda to her, her long legs curving around Brenda like a dancer.
They kiss and kiss and then the black tendrils of desperation start creeping in on Brenda's vision and from the way Sharon is panting, Brenda knows she feels it too. Before she just wanted to make Sharon feel good but now she wants to lose herself in it just as hard. She reaches out, patting the mattress until her hand wraps around the cool latex shaft.
"What-"
"Trust me," Brenda says. She shifts her hips back and slips it vertically between them and it's weird at first, too cold, too dry but they shift again, coating it a little and it settles more comfortably, their bodies holding it into place. Brenda twists the top and feels the first soft jolt as it starts to softly buzz. Brenda presses into it which pushes it more firmly against Sharon.
"Oh," Sharon says. "Okay. That's… that's fine."
Brenda smiles, wraps her arms around Sharon and pulls her closer. "You like it." She twists to the next setting and the buzzing gets louder, the vibrations more intense. Sharon gasps, the tip of her tongue coming out to settle on her top lip for just a moment. She moves her hips again and something must shift right into place because she drops her head to Brenda's shoulder and lets out a deep moan. That noise shoots pleasure up Brenda's spine as well as any vibrator does and Brenda gets serious, focusing on the sensations, the waves of pleasure, the thick smell of sex in the room, how Sharon's lips find Brenda's salty neck and whimper into her skin. "You'll come like this, won't you?" Brenda whispers.
Sharon nods against her, humming an affirmative. She digs her nails into Brenda's back.
"Are you close already?"
"It's so good," Sharon moans. "It's too… come with me."
Brenda slides one hand down to Sharon's lower back and braces her, thrusting harder now. The vibrator slips a little and Sharon reaches out to hold it in place and it's even better because now they can really grind against it and Sharon is whimpering with every panting breath. Oh yes, she's very close.
"Turn it up," Brenda instructs and Sharon doesn't even hesitate, just gives the top a hard twist and the vibrator roars up to the full setting, sending a jolt straight to Brenda's clit, up her spine, out to each fingertip, just white hot intensity that feels like it lodges right in Brenda's throat.
Sharon, though, little miss proper Sharon who comes quiet as a church mouse takes a deep breath in and then wails, curling in on herself as the orgasm wracks her whole body and that's enough to send Brenda flying too. It's Sharon who finally pulls the toy away, unable to stand it, and they press back together, filling the space. Brenda can feel the spasms as Sharon clutches at her, their breasts pressed together, their legs tangled, their sweaty, flushed skin the only thing keeping their bodies from falling entirely to pieces.
It takes awhile for Sharon to come back to herself. She's trembling in Brenda's arms, her gasps uneven, her eyes scrunched closed.
"You okay?" Brenda asks. The toy is still buzzing beside them, glistening. Brenda would turn it off but she's not sure Sharon wants her to let go.
"Mmm," Sharon says.
Not exactly an answer. Brenda risks it, reaches over and turns the vibrator off and the silence settles around them. Sharon opens her eyes and they've got the glossy sheen of tears.
"Oh, honey," Brenda says. "It was too much."
"No," Sharon says. "I mean… it was good. I just… I went 58 years thinking that I wasn't that interested in sex or that maybe I just wasn't good at it but… I think I was with the wrong sort of partner all along."
Brenda gives her a soft smile. It's a sweet revelation and Brenda feels honored that Sharon has shared it with her. For Sharon, her bisexuality is hitting her like a freight train and Brenda can get how that might happen, but for Brenda, here in the thick of things, it just makes a perfect sort of sense. Of course sex with Sharon is as good as any sex she's ever had with men. Of course women are beautiful, they always have been. No, the real shock of all of this for Brenda is the idea that friendship can grow into something like this without incurring damage. She's never been friends first - always dated right from the start and got to know men along the way but this is so much better, laughably better. To already have the foundation of trust, to discover the physical intimacy in a safe environment. Why doesn't everyone do this?
Brenda kisses her cheek. "It's definitely not you," she says reassuringly. "You're so beautiful and smart and I'm forever impressed by how you make me feel." Another kiss on the other cheek. "Thank you for indulgin' me."
Sharon finally breaks her vice grip and leans back enough so they can untangle and stretch out. "I wish I could stay."
"It's probably for the best as I'd just want to do this all night long and we'd never get any sleep," Brenda says but only because she wishes she could stay too.
"I'm already too old for twice in one night, I'm not sure I'd survive till morning," Sharon says, lying back. "I need a shower."
"You deserve one," Brenda says. "Go crazy."
Brenda's phone rings when Sharon's in the bathroom, the shower not quite drowning out the sound of Sharon's drowsy humming. She pulls the cell phone off the nightstand and sees that it's Rusty.
"Hi honey," she says. "I thought you were at school."
"I was, but I'm home now," he says. "Is my mom there?"
"She is," Brenda says. "I have leftovers. You want to come over? You can walk her home."
"Okay," he says. "Give me like fifteen minutes."
"Perfect," Brenda says. Brenda slips on her robe, belts it tight and puts up her hair with a plastic clip. Picks through the dirty clothes on the ground. Sharon had come over in slacks and a blouse. The slacks are fine, but her blouse is a little damp from when Brenda had mouthed a nipple right through the fabric so she roots around in her drawers to find Sharon a pair of less enticing underwear and a clean t-shirt to wear home. She knocks before going into the bathroom but still pulls back the curtain a little. Sharon is just standing there under the spray; her hair gets so dark when it's all wet.
"Rusty called," Brenda says. Sharon's eyes look up, meet hers. She looks tired but satisfied and though she's obviously thinking heavy thoughts, Brenda isn't worried. "He's coming over to walk you home."
"He's coming here?" Sharon asks.
"I'm gonna feed him and then you two can walk home together," Brenda says. "I left you clothes on the bed."
Brenda pulls on underwear under her robe, unties the robe's belt and puts on a bra before tying it up tight again. Good enough.
She moves her dry cleaning into the small closet, the hangers all screeching on the rod as she shoves everything aside to make room. Then she closes the bedroom door so Sharon can sort herself out in peace. Brenda catches her reflection in the kitchen window, her smudged makeup, her rosy skin. Oh well. Rusty's already drawing conclusions, they may as well be the right ones.
He knocks instead of ringing the bell, good kid, and when she opens the door he looks a little startled. "Hello, Mrs. Robinson," he says.
"Ha ha," she replies, letting him in.
"Where's Sharon?"
"She's almost ready," Brenda says. "You want to warm up your dinner or eat it cold?"
"Warm please," he says. So Brenda gets out a clean plate, the beef and broccoli, the chicken fried rice, the last of the egg rolls and warms everything up for him.
"I have water or diet coke or, uh, cranberry juice, looks like," she says, peering into the refrigerator.
"Diet Coke," he says, so she pulls him out a can and even cracks it for him before handing it over. He sits at the kitchen table and she moves her tote out of the way and sits in the other chair.
"How was class?" she asks. "You're getting close to the end of the semester right?"
"Yeah, finals in two weeks," he says. "I feel kind of swamped and Sharon's already talking about transferring to a regular four year college, so I don't even know."
"Really?" Brenda asks, the bulky brown envelope from the Mayor's office catching her eye from her bag once again. She reaches down for it. "Where?"
"She says USC or UCLA but, I'm not sure I'd even get into schools like that."
"Of course you would," she says flopping the package onto the table. "You're smart and you've got an interesting story."
"There are some pretty cool schools in Orange County," he says. "I haven't decided yet."
"Hmm," Brenda says, tearing open the package. "Probably just go to whichever school gives you the most money."
"That's how you decide?" Rusty asks. "Really?"
"It is these days," she says. She peers in the envelope, pulls out a thick piece of letterhead that has a handwritten note on it.
I do hope you'll seriously consider this. It's far past time for someone like you to head the force. Eric.
She looks behind the letterhead and sees it - application for Chief of Police. This one is blank, of course, but familiar nonetheless. Good lord. She shoves it back into the envelope.
"What's that?" Rusty asks.
"Nothin'," she says. "Nothin', nothin'. Work stuff."
Thankfully, Sharon comes out dressed except for her bare feet and her wet hair tucked behind her ears, her glasses on her head, her face clean and makeup free.
"Hi," she says. "How was class?"
"Hello," he says, eyeing her suspiciously and then turning back to Brenda in her robe. "What… what's happening, here, exactly?"
Sharon smiles at him, comes over and drops a kiss on the top of his head. "Just spending some time with Brenda while you were gone," she says. "But it's late and we all have early mornings so finish up so we can go."
Rusty watches them as he shovels down the last of his food and carries his plate to the sink.
"Dishwasher," Sharon orders.
"Don't bother," Brenda says. "It's clean. I've just been picking the clean dishes out to use."
Sharon sighs heavily. "Of course you have."
"We're not all domestic goddesses," Brenda says. Sharon doesn't dignify her with a response, just steps into her shoes, bends over to pick up her purse. Brenda's white shirt is a little short for her long torso, so she can see a sliver of skin when Sharon bends. She can see Sharon's dark bra through the light fabric. She swallows, shakes it off. Walks them to the door.
"See you this weekend, maybe?" she asks hopefully.
"Count on it," Sharon says and then, after only a little pause, one maybe only Brenda notices, she leans in and kisses Brenda lightly on the mouth.
"Um," Rusty says loudly. "I have many questions."
"We'll take the long way home," Sharon says. "Goodnight Brenda."
"Goodnight you two," she says. She shuts the door behind them and locks it, spins so she can rest her back against it.
Stares at her purse like something dangerous is inside.