Sharon was grateful that tradition for this particular holiday included champagne. Her plans for ringing in the new year with a very naked Brenda had been thwarted by the elder Johnsons, and so now, she found herself tucked into the corner of the sofa, clutching the stem of her champagne flute like a life preserver, and wishing she'd foregone dinner so she could be well on her way to drunk right now.
"Now Clay, don't disparage that nice Ryan Seacrest boy. It's not his fault Dick Clark got too old to be out in all that freezing mess, with those silly young people." Willie Rae was crocheting, and her hands flew so quickly around the yarn and hook, that Sharon had a hard time discerning how the whole ensemble wasn't suffering from friction burns.
"I'm not disparaging anything. I'm just saying, this boy don't even look old enough to shave, let alone help the whole dang country bring in a new year. At least that Anderson Cooper fella has hit puberty." Clay had his arms crossed behind his head, and his long legs extended into the living room, ankles crossed. A toothpick seemed to be at the mercy of one corner of his mouth or the other, and his words came clipped around it.
"But he always has that wretched woman on with him! That terrible, vulgar, Kimmy, Kelly, oh what IS her name?" Willie Rae held her hands still, and looked fiercely ponderous.
"Kathy Griffin." Sharon supplied wryly.
"KATHY GRIFFiN! That's it." Willie Rae nodded emphatically, returning to her furious crocheting. "She is just awful, that woman. At least Ryan Seacrest can carry a show without needing a sidekick with a potty mouth."
"Willie Rae, she's not that bad. Besides, you shouldn't talk bad about the lesbians in front of our girls." Clay rubbed at his eyes.
Sharon sat up a little straighter. She was pretty sure she was being defended, although against what, she wasn't entirely sure, but it was the first time she'd heard Clay utter the actual word lesbian.
"Daddy. Kathy Griffen isn't gay, I'm pretty sure. She has a lot of gay fans, but I don't think she's a lesbian, or if she is, I don't think she's out." Brenda wriggled her icy toes under Sharon's thigh, smirking when the other woman shifted to accommodate the intrusion.
"Are you sure? Because honestly, I mean obviously you can't judge books and all, just look at you, punkin, but if ever there was a book to judge, I was sure it was her."
"CLAY! Lesbians come in all shapes and sizes, isn't that right, Sharon?" Willie Rae smiled encouragingly.
"Ah. Uh, yes. Yes. Just like straight women. You just never know." Sharon drained her glass, and set it on the end table next to the sofa. The clock on the VCR (now programmed, thanks to Sharon) glowed 11:58. She unfolded herself from her seat, and stood, then turned and offered a hand to Brenda.
"Come on, let's make sure we all have bubbly for the dropping of the ball!"
Brenda arched an eyebrow at her, but gamely took the offered hand, and hauled herself to her feet, swaying a bit. She picked up her own glass from the coffee table, and leaned to grab Clay and Willie Rae's glasses as well. She handed off Clay's flute to Sharon, and the two of them headed for the kitchen. Brenda set the two glasses down on the island, and moved to fetch the champagne out of the fridge, when she found herself pressed against the counter, Sharon warm against her back.
"They say, that whatever you're doing at midnight, is what you'll be doing the rest of the year," Sharon whispered, her breath hot in Brenda's ear. She sucked the lobe between her teeth, and slid her hands around to snake beneath the loose-fitting Academy sweatshirt Brenda wore, cupping her breasts, thumbing her nipples into stiffened peaks.
Brenda gasped a little, and pressed her backside more firmly against Sharon's groin. She meant to whisper her mild objections, a quick reminder to Sharon that her parents were right there in the other room, but Sharon slipped one hand down over her belly, and under the waistband of her yoga pants, and Brenda forgot quite why she was going to object to anything, after all.
"It's not that I'm not fond of your parents, you understand." Sharon was delighted at how quickly Brenda's arousal coated her questing fingers as she slipped them through slick folds. "They're lovely people, and they made you, so I'm eternally grateful to them." She slid two fingers inside, and pressed the heel of her hand against Brenda's clit, encouraging a steady motion by guiding Brenda with her hips. "But what I want to be doing the rest of the year, Brenda, is this. I want to be inside you, I want you on my fingers, my lips, my tongue. I want to press myself against you, and forget where you begin and I end. I want to taste the salt on your skin, and smell the way you want me, hear the way you say my name when you're on the edge. I want to feel the ache in my thighs in the morning, and know it's because of how well we loved each other the night before. That's how I want to spend this year. It's 11:59, Brenda, so if you plan on spending the year like that, I need for you to come for me."
Sharon redoubled her efforts, tweaking turgid nipples with one hand, and pressing the pads of her fingers upwards, curling them against that tiny rough bit of skin that caused Brenda to swear softly as her body began to tremble. Sharon slid her other hand inside Brenda pants, and pressed a finger to the left of her clit, sliding it over the sensitized bud, and Brenda came apart in her hands, all sticky warmth and hushed moans. Sharon laved kisses along her neck and jaw, bringing her down slowly, before pulling her hands free, and letting the waistband of Brenda's pants snap back against her abdomen with a pop.
"Now. You better hurry up and pour those flutes. We've only got about 45 seconds before it's 12:01, and I mean to toast with your parents at midnight. Happy New Year, Brenda."
"Happy New Year, Sharon. I love you." Brenda sounded a little breathless, and Sharon couldn't imagine a better start to her year than this.