Bernie lay flat on her back, arms stretched out to either side, trying to remember the last time she had felt like this. She looked back through the relevant moments in her life and realised it was like flicking through a book recommended by a bad friend. This – this combination of elation and ease – she decided was all new. Might even be joy. Well, if anyone could bring joy into a person's life, it was Serena Campbell. Where other people had personality, Serena had spirit; where others offered succour, Serena gave soul. Where… where was Serena?
Hands holding the edges of the vanity unit, Serena stood in the en suite and looked at herself in the mirror. Did she appear any different? She felt as though she was inhabiting an entirely new body, one that was all nerve-endings and no skeleton. Nope, she thought, turning slightly and examining herself; still the same lines in the same places, the same inch to be pinched here and there. She looked at her thumb, and thought about what it had done. She smiled at her reflection, her lips casting further up one side of her face than the other. Serena Campbell: lesbian. Still had a ring to it. Girlfriend of Bernie Wolfe.
Just then Bernie nudged the door very slightly further open. "Forgive me," she said, in a mock whisper. "I don't know what you got up to with Edward and Robbie - don't want to know, frankly – but I've always found it helps to be in the same room…" Serena smiled in to the mirror, and Bernie could tell from the breath that escaped with it that Serena was still a little anxious. She kissed her before she could utter another apology, spinning them round together so that she was between Serena and the sink. For a while they only stood and looked at one another: Bernie's arms linked behind the small of Serena's back, Serena running her hands slowly up and down Bernie's triceps.
When she looked in to Bernie's eyes, Serena felt as though she was looking in through a window that no one else had ever seen into. One that perhaps had never been open before. She looked at Bernie's cheekbones – pink, as ever – and realised with a thrill that she had been admiring those for a long while. Weeks. Months? She looked at the blonde curls caressing Bernie's ears, shining under the skylight like strands of silk on a woodland web. She took her time to admire Bernie's neck, all strong lines and a jugular notch that she wanted to dive into. Serena couldn't remember ever giving too much thought to another woman's breasts, but even from a sample of four she'd decided that Bernie's were damn near perfect. Neither of them looked like 20-somethings, or even 30-somethings, but Bernie's service career had kept her trim and toned and –
"Do you want me to turn round so you can see if you'd like the rump steak today, madam?" Bernie's voice – she'd even effected some kind of cockney accent – cut through Serena's thoughts and immediately made her blush. "Sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to make you feel like, I mean, I, you, you're not a piece of meat."
Bernie smiled, emitted a single bark of a laugh.
"No I mean it's not lust," Serena said, a flicker of disappointment seizing Bernie's features for just a fraction of a second. "I mean it is that" – Serena cast an appreciative glance at Bernie's washboard stomach, her fingertips landing on Bernie's abs for a moment – "but it's not just that."
Again Bernie smiled. Gave Serena a look that she hoped said, I would stand here for you all day.
"When I'm with you," Serena said, leaning in to Bernie and laying her head on her shoulder, "I want the rest of the world to stop existing. I want never to let go. I want to feel my skin next to your skin forever." The words landed hot on Bernie's neck, but she suppressed the urge to joke about Serena's newfound poetic streak and let them sink in. She gently rubbed her thumb across Serena's spine. Hoped it would say, I'm listening. Hoped it would say, I'm not scared.
Serena ran her fingers over Bernie's hip bone in response, applying just a hint of pressure, as if she wanted to know precisely where to find the edges; she was looking down to watch her hand work the line up and over the iliac crest, back and forth. She was completely enchanted by Bernie's body.
"Can I kiss you?" Bernie whispered. Serena smiled, a smile that carved deep dimples into her cheeks, and kissed her tenderly. Her hand was flat on Bernie's stomach, now, inching its way higher; when it grazed Bernie's breast and then grasped it, the taller woman inhaled sharply and moaned. Reassured, Serena ran her tongue down Bernie's neck – she wasn't sure where she'd picked that up from, but by god it felt good – and planted kisses down her sternum before finally OH GOD drawing a nipple into her mouth and caressing it with her tongue. Serena felt Bernie's skin heat up on her lips and could've sung; Bernie felt the flash and gripped the basin behind her, back arched, breathing hard.
Serena had a hand on each of Bernie's hips now, holding her at bay as she enjoyed this exploration of Bernie's chest. Every bit of skin she touched seemed to fizz underneath her, and she wanted to touch all of it. She rolled one nipple between her fingers while the other submitted to her tongue lapping; Bernie stood, head turned to the ceiling, and panted against the back of her own hand. Just as she was about to beg Serena to move lower, she felt those lips begin to trace a pattern on her stomach. Serena heard the relief in Bernie's breath and swiped her thumb all too briefly down the crease at Bernie's hip, keeping the other hand firm as Bernie bucked. "Fuck," Bernie breathed, "Serena… fuck."
Serena had expected to take a moment's pause when she reached Bernie's pubic hairline – thought she would naturally hesitate at the… new reality… of it. Instead she found herself thoroughly turned on: Bernie smelled glorious – that word again, she thought, but how else to describe it? – and was practically mewling. Her hands on Serena's head were gentle but Serena knew that must be taking an inordinate amount of restraint. Kneeling now she ran a hand up the inside of Bernie thigh, nudging her legs apart slightly, and waited until Bernie was mid-cry to run her tongue along glistening wet lips. Up an octave. Maybe two.
No time to admire her handiwork: Bernie was begging now, sliding her own fingers towards her clitoris. Serena took her hand, kissed it, and moved it aside. Slowly she moved her tongue around Bernie's clit instead, noticing the hitch in Bernie's breath each time she passed underneath it. Feeling her tongue tire Serena moved her thumb into position instead, kissing her way up Bernie's hip as her thumb applied alternating pressure and her fingers teased the opening slightly further down. "Do you want-" Serena started to ask, cut off by Bernie's low and trembling voice. "YES!" Serena thought about the angle she was at and slid two fingers carefully into Bernie, smiled at the huff of breath that it prompted, and let her tongue take over from her thumb once again. She was struggling to keep a check on her own body, and as she felt Bernie's muscles flutter around her fingers – oh, that was a welcome new sensation – she felt a trickle down her own thigh. She wanted to cry from the perfection of it, and was glad to see, when Bernie let herself down to the floor, that she had teared up too.
"I know it's too soon," Serena said through a teary laugh, "but-"
"I love you," Bernie said, rolling her hand over Serena's knee. It tickled. "I should have told you months ago."