Perceptions-P9

The oscillating fan blew warm air across Maura's damp skin as a wisp of hair drifted over her face. Against her cheek she felt the steady beat of Jane's heart, its cadence a madrigal lulling her into sleep. Physically replete, she was satisfied with nestling into the vales of Jane's body. A soft burr escaped through the space between her parted lips. Thirst beckoned but Maura swallowed past the rawness of her throat, unwilling to do anything more. Softly whirling, the fan lured her further into lassitude and her eyelids drooped with heaviness. The second time Maura swallowed, Jane's hand tightened around the smooth arch of her hip. Unable to resist Jane's wakefulness, Maura tipped her head back. A shaft of gray light coming from the window split the opaque shadows, revealing angular features. The lips that had molded against her body showed a hint of a smile. Maura's tongue darted from her mouth, tasting the skin below Jane's clavicle, green eyes watching. The smile flourished, transformative. Maura's hand skimmed over Jane's waist and stopped just beneath a pliant breast. Slowly, without ambition, Maura's thumb lightly traced the underside of the silky curve. It was a wondrous happenstance, being in bed with Jane again, having permission to freely explore, touch and taste, almost believing whenever they deigned to leave the bed things between them wouldn't change for the worse.

" I feel…" Jane began, then lightly drew a few honey-colored strands between her fingers. "…just right."

Maura nudged her thigh further across Jane's , afraid to move away. Body sated and spirit finding solace in the aftermath, she didn't want to test the delicate thread connecting them by witlessly spewing whatever came to mind. Yet, Jane's willingness encouraged reciprocation, touching a deeply buried yearning in Maura. It was…disturbing to pine so profoundly for a nameless thing, to be utterly convinced the only way to satiate it was through the one person who very well may prove to lack staying power.

Presently Jane was stroking her back with a perceptive touch, fingertips tracing along the contours of Maura's shoulder and arm then up her back, unhurried and rhythmic. When the caress produced an overly sensitive response, causing skin to contract with tiny bumps, Maura involuntarily reacted by pressing her hips forward and nipping Jane's skin. In concession, Jane's feather light touch became firmer, soothing the bumps away. A flutter of arousal caught Maura's languid attention. Adrift, she closed her eyes, content to be close to Jane.

"Maura…?"

"Mmm."

The lengthening silence induced Maura to lift her head. Jane was pinching her bottom lip between her teeth with the strangest expression on her face. Hard-pressed to name it, Maura nevertheless narrowed her eyes in hopes of discovering more. When dark eyes met green, she felt the emotive pull and was quickly, willingly pulled under. Words, half-formed and imperfect, travelled no farther than a synapses or two before being discourteously dropped. Instead, Maura stayed present, linked to Jane in a way she didn't fully understand.

"Should I…do you want…" Jane's question crumbled. She made as if to begin again only to stop and grimace.

The back of Maura's fingertips gently brushed Jane's cheek.

"I…I want to wake up with you and have breakfast."

Solemnly Maura looked at Jane. "I'd like that."

The reason for Jane's skittishness didn't elude Maura but it wasn't an important piece in what was transpiring between them. Jane's deliberate decision to venture away from the transitory and superficial, even by the most tentative of gestures, held the most significance in Maura's eyes. That she would be willing to change, in any degree, filled Maura with gratitude and a touch of fear. Ignoring the doubts and old pains, she followed Jane's lead, and purposefully chose not to make the same mistakes. Maura chose faith.

§

The heat of the midmorning sun upon her face coaxed Maura from sleep. She tried to recapture what was nimbly slipping away. Despite her best efforts, her body was busy flipping the on-switches. It didn't take Maura long, perhaps a second or two, to realize she was alone in the bed. A very feline smile dominated her face. Unable to completely stifle the throaty moan emanating from bone-deep recesses, Maura rolled over and bent her knee. As she stretched, arms above her head and back slightly arched, the sheet slid down a few inches. The light caress shadowed other, more tangible ones and her nipples tightened accordingly. Soreness inhabited every muscle and soft tissue group causing Maura a purely egotistical ripple of pride and accomplishment. Already it was a good morning.

On that note, Maura swung her legs over the edge of the bed, wincing a little from the sting of thoroughly exercised muscles. She went into the bathroom. The reflection was not kind: dark circles under her eyes, smudged mascara. There was a light mark on her neck and a darker one where her clavicles met. Unexpectedly, her body reacted and Maura clutched at the counter, quaking. The evidence of Jane's relentless mouth brought the night's activities to the forefront. Goosebumps spread along her arms as she arched her back. The image of her responsive breasts, dark tips against white skin and the wild cascade of tangled hair curling over one shoulder captured Maura's attention. Naked and aroused wasn't an extraordinary circumstance for her. Yet standing in front of the mirror, after a night spent in shameless adulation, green eyes boldly assessed the reflection. It was erotic, looking at herself and remembering what her lover did to her, what her lover must have seen. Maura slowly laced her fingers through honey tresses, lifting it off her shoulders. The smile crossing her face was almost ferine in its intention. On the back of the door hung an oversized football jersey. She put it on then performed a quick morning praxis of washing her face and using the bathroom. Eager to find Jane, Maura dried her hands with cursory attention upon a towel then bolted from the room.

The moment's anticipation collapsed like a punctured lung. She was alone in the apartment. Her gaze sharpened on the empty dog kennel. Logically she realized Jane had probably taken Jo Friday for a walk but it didn't lessen the sting. Their first morning together didn't fulfill her expectations and could hardly be categorized as "in the ballpark." A little deflated, she roamed the tiny space, eyes randomly touching upon things they'd seen a thousand of times before. Maybe she left a note, Maura thought as she listlessly trailed her fingertips across the ridge of the couch. The acceleration of her heartbeat pumped a tiny zing of excitement through her veins. She checked the tiny kitchen then eagerly went into the bedroom but there was no note. Maybe she left a text, she next thought but, admittedly, with little hope. She retrieved her phone from her purse. A hardness twisted in her chest when she didn't see a notification.

Just below the calm surface of her control there lurked a circling shark of anger poised for an opportune moment to feed. Rational thought dictated Jane's absence would not be long, that it had been necessary. Yet, doubt pecked over the crumbling edges of her confidence. Maura looked at the cellphone again and tried to sort through her feelings. So close, it could have been the voice of past experience, she listened to the whispers of insecurity. Jane had left without a word on their first morning as a couple. The oversight rankled Maura despite knowing such behavior was typical of Jane. Having experienced it firsthand in their friendship, Maura wasn't sure why being lovers would somehow have a more active influence upon Jane's choices. She's always been like this.

Maura sank to the couch and checked the phone for the time. Surprised to discover it was nearly eleven in the morning, she jumped up, anger finally breaking through to the surface, its wide mouth lined with rows of accusation. The last thing she wanted to do was to be found sulking and firmly on the wrong side of the Cares-A-Lot line. Childish and reactionary, perhaps, but Maura's vulnerability demanded compensation. She walked into the bathroom and yanked the faucets like they were responsible for the hurt infiltrating her senses.

After standing under the hot spray until it began to cool, Maura's temper climbed. There was little to do when the object of her displeasure was nowhere in sight which merely served to subvert the situation. Maura jerked the towel from the rack and roughly, haphazardly wiped away beads of water from her skin. Instead of rehanging the towel she left it on the floor, damp and rumpled. She grabbed some of Jane's comfortable clothes and twisted into them. Every second that expired without Jane's appearance was like a validation for each mistrustful thought, underscoring a few of them several times. Maura took out her phone again but no matter how much willed it, Jane hadn't tried to get in touch.

As she brushed the wet tangles out of her hair, it occurred to Maura that there were other, perfectly acceptable explanations of her lover's inconsideration. Each one carried its weight in plausibility. Still, none caught hold. Jane's timid confession, murmured in the depth of night, had broken through Maura's defenses. Sheltered and savored within Jane's embrace, Maura had been so very happy to inspire such a proclamation. It had given her a reason to hope.

No longer crisp and new, that reason now bore signs of a trampling. A full hour transpired since discovering Jane had departed with Jo Friday. She looked down at her phone and grimaced. Pride swelled against the idea of calling Jane. There was only one explanation Maura was prepared to accept for Jane's unavailability and it wasn't something she wished to foster. Some of the fury receded at the thought of Jane hurt. It was the one scenario that cut away the layers of insulation to expose the raw nerve-ending life without Jane would cause. Troubled, she rubbed the back of her neck, clearly undecided about what she should do. Worry invaded her mind and established residence like a science fiction symbiont. The impulse to contact Jane nagged her. Maura wrung her hands then shook them out and began pacing. Several theories as to why, on the one morning that would set the tone for their 'new' relationship, Jane left without a word.

Is she coming back? What was she thinking? Was she in an accident? While her imagination went wild, an underlining truth dispelled the speculation. Barring an accident and given their history, there wasn't a more understandable reason for Jane's silence, at least one that would reinstate Maura's optimism. The fundamental reality sharpened her thoughts until Maura was left with the simplest logic: if Jane wanted to contact her, she would have and all the excuses in the universe was not going to sweeten the bitterness of it. Left with that, alone in Jane's apartment, Maura prepared to leave. For a second she imagined how she would feel if Jane suddenly walked through the door, carrying a bag of muffins, eyes sparkling and smile apologetic. The image made her heart soar but didn't altogether erase the gravity of her ruminations.

Gathering up her things, she was half-tempted to collect it all, not in a passive-aggressive pique but more in an effort to align her actions with her thoughts. Believing that there were future occasions when Jane would undoubtedly make similar choices, Maura was quite convinced she wouldn't be able to accept being someone's after thought. Consequently, removing her things would expedite a process already set into motion and she would be that much closer to acceptance, to moving on. Yet, her heart was thoroughly captured, stubborn in its passionate beliefs. It yearned and beat faster whenever Jane was near and often when she wasn't. Firmly, beyond logic, Maura's heart was filled with love.

Tears swelled in her eyes making the green irises glisten like light on undulating water. Her emotions spiraling into chaos, she didn't immediately react when the apartment door opened and Jo Friday yipped in welcome.

"Hey, Mar! Jo and I had a great walk. It's so nice outside." She hung up the dog's leash. " I got donuts!"

Before Jane could make it across the room, Maura turned away and struggled to control her voice. "Oh, that's good but I'm not…hungry." She forced herself to face Jane, schooling her features into placid lines.

Chastely Jane kissed Maura's cheek and said, "Suit yourself. But I got you a scone, your favorite. They didn't have the your kind of coffee but I was able to get you that watermelon water you like so much." Jane's nose wrinkled, then she began to set out the things she bought. "You know, we ought to have a picnic in the park. It's a little crowded but I bet we could—"

"Jane."

Maura's resolve crumbled in view of Jane's enthusiasm and conspicuous thoughtfulness. Her smile made Maura weak and strong, flushed with pleasure. The dark thoughts were swept into corners, temporarily forgotten. Jane's bright eyes and contagious grin snapped Maura out of her mood but she couldn't exactly discount a niggling doubt.

Clearing her throat, Maura remarked casually, "That was some walk you two took."

Swift-footed, the defensive expression on Jane's face came and went but not before Maura's keen eyes saw it. Internally Maura bristled, defenses rising like bread dough.

"It's Saturday so I took Jo for her playdate. She was having so much fun I didn't want to rush her." Dark eyes probed into green. "You know this, Maur. Then I went to that bakery down the street, the one we always go to when you come over?" Jane frowned, then crossed her arms under her breasts. "What's the problem?"

Intellectually Jane made sense and it was probable that on any other given day Maura wouldn't have thought twice about Jane's lack of communication.

Wary nonetheless, Maura stepped away, pretending to take an interest in the watermelon water. "I woke up…and thought—"

"Assumed I was blowing you off?" The anger in Jane's tone was almost palatable.

"It wouldn't have been unthinkable, Jane." Maura regarded her with intense, steady eyes, careful to keep emotional inflections at bay. The shard of dread in her stomach went a little deeper. Powerless to prevent the approaching argument, Maura steeled herself against what was sure to come.

"No…you're right." Pain seeped into her expression. "And…yeah, maybe I was…maybe I was going back instead of forwards."

Despite the curveball, Maura trudged onward. "So, the scone and water is atonement?"

Jane looked away, ran her fingers through her hair. "I…don't know. When I woke up this morning, I felt…it was…shit!" Frustrated, she stalked into the kitchen and snatched open the refrigerator. Seconds later Maura heard the telltale ting of a bottle cap hitting the countertop.

Eventually Jane made her way back into the living room, a cold beer in hand. She sat next to Maura on the couch.

"This is hard for me… and it's one of the reasons I suck at relationships." Jane busily peeled the label from beer bottle. "I'm just not that person, you know? I don't know how to—"

"Tell someone you just slept with that you were going to take your dog for a walk and buy some pastries?" The scorn in Maura's tone was barely above a whisper but it was clear enough to reach Jane's ears.

"What is it with you? I'm trying and if you can't see that well, what the fuck are we doing?!"

Inhaling sharply, Maura counted heartbeats. "Don't my feelings matter? Last night you were the one who brought it up, Jane. I thought this morning…I thought it would be…different. You made me think it would be different."

Jane looked down at the naked bottle, shifting a little in her seat. Heat infused her face. When she raised it, Maura's stomach flipped.

"I really want to be different…with you. This morning…it made me feel things, Maura, made me want things." Jane urgently leaned forward, her hand closing around Maura's forearm, tugging her closer. "I'm so sorry about not lettin' you know. I shoulda left a note or woke you up."

Unwilling to concede, Maura asked, "Why didn't you?"

Long fingers skimmed over her arm. "I just needed to think about things."

Other questions popped into her head but Maura pushed them away. Only one remained. "Next time, you'll…let me know?"

Staring into Maura's eyes, Jane tried to convey the sincerity of her feelings. "I will."