Nothing happened next, in fact.
Well, not that, anyway. Bernie, groggily satisfied, made her way up to the pillow and all but crashed on to it, her chin resting gently on Serena's shoulder. She had sleepily pushed away any attempts Serena made to touch her below the waist, but hadn't minded the hand lightly cupping her breast as they both fell asleep. When Serena had woken in the night with a chill and pulled the duvet up over them both, Bernie had shuffled over a bit and lay on her front, breathing heavily in to the cleanest smelling sheets she could ever remember sleeping on. Serena watched the fall and rise of her back, quite enchanted, before dropping the duvet down and letting her own eyes close. Berenice Wolfe fast asleep in her bed! Well well.
When the first light of the morning crept into the room, this room that she had put just-so before heading to work the previous day, silly old fool, Serena was staring at the ceiling, fretting. She desperately wanted to touch the base of her neck, to pinch the skin a bit, to calm her mind, but she worried that any movement she made would wake Bernie, who was still breathing heavily into the mattress. God, her shoulders. That hair. It was by no means an entirely physical thing, this thing she had for her co-lead; Bernie was so capable and tough, yet so kind, so tender, so… fragile… Serena had been smitten for some time before she glanced at those lips and found herself hoping they would one day kiss her. But there was nothing that she didn't like about Bernie's body now that she had seen it, now that she had felt it, now that she had been against and under it.
It was just that she was still worried that she didn't know what to do to it, to her, to Bernie, that would make her feel the way that she herself had felt last night. Still felt, in all honesty; Bernie had put through her such immense sensation that she felt as though she would set a Geiger counter crackling madly, even now. She thought about what Bernie had said last night, and about how she touched herself (a lot, as it happens, since Ms Wolfe had buggered off to Ukraine with Serena's heart under her heel). She'd never really bothered much with the top half; never really been able to step out of herself far enough to imagine that it was someone else fondling her breasts. No, her nipples weren't for fooling, and remained resolutely uncharmed by her own touch. But she thought she knew what she would do with Bernie's, because she knew already that she wanted to play with them, tease them, kiss them, and she hoped that Bernie would like that too.
It was the other stuff that worried her – not because she didn't want to, she marvelled (me! Middle-aged divorcee! It wasn't so long ago that Robbie was in this bed!), but because she was far less sure of how to do it… properly. Bernie would know exactly what she wanted, and what if she grew exasperated at Serena's fumbling attempts? What if her surgical dexterity meant nothing here? And then there was her mouth to think about. What would she do with that? She should have done it last night – she could have done it last night, sat on the edge of the bed staring at Bernie's midriff. Why hadn't she? Had it not occurred to her, or had she avoided it? No, no, Bernie had taken charge at that point, and she'd had no choice but to lie back. And after that Bernie hadn't wanted anything, had asked her for nothing but peace, and Serena, mind and body blown, had slept too. They would both be well rested now, though, and things would happen. At some point she would again find herself inches from Bernie's groin. What if she didn't like it? No, she nearly said out loud, I almost certainly will like it, love it, because I love her – she looked over at Bernie in case even the thought might have startled her, and watched again as deep, slow breaths pushed Bernie's back gently up and down.
Eventually she seemed to be stirring. Now or never, Campbell.
Gently she moved over to push her body against Bernie's back, lightly at first and then with a bit more desire, nuzzling the back of her neck and starting to seek an avenue south for her right hand.
"Water doon?" Bernie murmured into the mattress. What? Serena pulled away a little and Bernie lifted her head. "What are you doing, Ms Campbell?" she asked, turning that foxy little half-smile on Serena.
"I, er, sorry. Sorry."
"Don't apologise; I can think of far worse ways to be woken up than having your back tickled by Serena Campbell's nipples" – she looked at them appreciatively: really, they were like roses – "but I do prefer to be able to breathe," she finished, turning and propping her head up on her right hand so that she could look at Serena properly. "Not especially into the really kinky stuff." The slight stress she put on the word 'really' put butterflies into Serena's stomach.
"Yes. Quite right. Sorry." Serena stared up at the ceiling again.
"What's the matter?" Bernie asked. She'd lost track of how many times Serena had apologized for non-existent offences on the few occasions that they had enjoyed any amount of physical intimacy.
Serena closed her eyes. Teenagers had fun but they also felt like idiots half the time, she remembered. They act like they know it all and at the same time are consumed by the fear that they in fact know nothing.
"I don't want to get it wrong. I don't want… to disappoint you."
"Serena, you couldn't." Bernie has been in such a state of arousal since yesterday afternoon that she knows Serena could put a pair of oven gloves on and paw at her like a piñata, and it would be gorgeous.
"I'm sure I could," Serena said, still looking hard at the ceiling.
Bernie leapt up and straddled Serena (was this going to be thing? Oh, I hope so, thinks Serena), forcing her to make eye contact. It had… other… benefits, but no, it was the eye contact that mattered.
"Serena, look at this room."
She did as instructed, surveying the dormer windows whose blinds were letting shafts of sunlight inside; casting an eye over the Sharps wardrobes that really had been a good investment because - Bernie shifts slightly and Serena's mind snaps back to the woman on top of her.
"Look at this bed."
It is on the large side. And soft. And warm. And swathed in hideously expensive sheets that she just happened to have put on the night before last.
"Does this feel like a bunk? Does it look like a store, where you've just about got time to get your hands down each others pants before someone walks dangerously near? Can you hear soldiers snoring? Can you hear distant gunfire? When I do this" - she thrusts her hips back and then forward, slowly but firmly making closer contact with Serena, who groans – "are you silenced by mortal fear?"
She's saying it all so softly, her hands, when they're not gesturing at the space around them (so much space!), running up and down Serena's sides, soothing any tension that her words might encourage.
"This is all new to me too," Bernie whispers, once again flexing her hips. "All this time. All this space." She's breathy now. "Seeing you like this. I'm so happy. Happier than ever. And I'm not waiting for 'my turn'."
She leans back slightly, propping herself up by placing a hand on each of Serena's thighs – really, quite the best thighs she's ever felt – and easing them ever so slightly further apart. More contact.
"No, no. Bernie, no." Bernie stops immediately, pushes up and looks at Serena, her eyes darting all over that face, that beautiful face, trying to work out what's wrong. Serena's hands haven't moved from her hips, so it can't be that bad.
"I want to do you," Serena says, instantly regretting her inability to find better words as Bernie's lips curl into a teasing smile.
"You want to do me, Ms Campbell?"
Serena waits for the bed to open up and swallow her, but it doesn't, it bloody doesn't.
Bernie takes Serena's hand from her left hip and moves it down slightly, leaves Serena's thumb hovering over the point just beneath her clitoris that she knows works so well. She casts a look at Serena – just about the most seductive look Serena has ever seen, as it happens – and then gently nudges that thumb closer to her.
Serena tries not to be too grumpy about it, but she doesn't want to be passive. "I don't just want to do the easy part, Bernie. I want to get you there. I want it to be because of me." Bernie takes a deep breath and leans so that her mouth is millimetres from Serena's ear.
"Serena, I am going to come in about eight seconds, and that is because I have been sitting on top of you, looking at you, for the last however long. Now, if you don't want to do this, you can turn chivalrously away while I finish myself off and then we can start again, or you can push your thumb down and, oh! I say." Serena is already there, sliding her thumb up and down and delighting in how wet it is. She kisses Bernie again and feels her twitch, enjoys the rush of Bernie's breath over her tongue, luxuriates in the little 'oof' that escapes from Bernie's mouth precisely eight seconds later. As she tries to slow down her breathing, Bernie's eyes crawl all over Serena's face once again, and finally she plants the sweetest of kisses on the tip of Serena's nose. "Now, what is it, exactly, that you're going to do to me?
"I'm all yours."