Cosima didn't hear the ringing. She only felt the softness of Delphine's lips, the warm of her breath, smelled the sweetness of the Frenchwoman's skin, tinged with perfume. She only felt the pounding rhythm of her own heart, and the tremble in her hands.
And then she felt Delphine put one hand on her shoulder and firmly, if gently, push her away.
Delphine got up. Cosima blinked, suddenly feeling cold and vulnerable. She yanked down the bottom of her blouse and stole a glance up at the woman she'd felt compelled to kiss.
Delphine was looking down, straightening her skirt. She looked up again at Cosima, but her expression seemed unreadable. She moved to the door and picked up the intercom telephone headset.
"Oui," she asked.
The telephone, Cosima realized. That's why she got up. Or was it?
"Shit," Cosima mumbled to herself.
Delphine spoke into the intercom.
"Yes, alright, send him up," she said.
She hung up, and they were briefly silent. Cosima looked at Delphine, and saw that she was standing near the door, arms crossed, biting her lip. Her eyes fluttered in Cosima's direction, then back to the door again.
"It's Scott," she explained. "He said he had something important to tell you. He's on his way up."
"Oh." Cosima slowly nodded.
It was but a minute before the telltale sound of the elevator door announced its arrival. A moment later, and the doorbell rang. Delphine opened the door.
"Delphine," Scott said, "I'm sorry to rush over like this." His cheeks were flushed and a bit sweaty, his voice fading as if he was somewhat out of breath.
"No, it's fine. Come in." Delphine stepped back so he could enter.
He came barreling in, stopped in the hall, and turned in a half-circle until he spotted Cosima. He hurried over to her.
"Sorry, Cosima, but I just found out something."
"Okay, Scott, settle down. Here." She handed him her untouched glass of water and he gratefully drank, pulling out his handkerchief and mopping his brow. Delphine entered and waited behind him, hands clasped. He swallowed and pushed his wire-framed glasses back up his nose.
"Okay," he breathed, looking at the box on the sofa. He carefully picked it up and put it down beside the couch so he could sit next to his friend and fellow agent. "I probably should have talked with you about this first, but I was talking things over with Danielle, and we decided it was time I'd better report in and tell our superiors where we are."
Cosima's eyebrows shot up her forehead, but her tone remained even.
"Okay… and?"
"Well, you know I had to, even if I'd rather not, because technically I'm in the military, even though you're not, and well, people could be looking for us, or contacting our families, or folks that helped us out might get in trouble." He gave her a significant look.
"Alright, I've gotcha. So what happened?"
"Well, I finally contacted an American army representative, and he contacted the British, and they got in touch with Bletchley. They're gonna get back to us soon with orders, but they said to be prepared to go to New Guinea!"
"New Guinea?" Cosima's jaw dropped. "That's nearly halfway around the world! What for?"
"I think they want us working on Japanese codes in the Pacific."
"That doesn't make sense." Cosima's hands flew to her head, as if to keep her thoughts from exploding. "The Japanese codes have been figured out for a long time, now. Unless they got something new? But either way, why us? We have much more experience in the European theatre…"
"I don't know, Cosima. Maybe they think there's something they really need us for? Or maybe…" he swallowed, "to punish us?"
"Damn it, no… that can't be right." She rose and took a few steps toward the window, just needing to move. Her eyes flicked over to Delphine, whose hand was over her mouth, and then back to Scott.
"When? Do they know we're still convalescing?"
"Nothing's definite. We should be getting a more direct message soon, but…" He looked worried.
Cosima straightened herself up and took in a breath. In the quiet of the tense room, they could hear the touch of a wheeze in it, and how she had to clear her throat slightly before speaking.
"Okay, I'm going to have to talk to them. Let me just splash some water on my face and I'll…"
"No," Delphine said.
The two Americans blinked at her.
"Huhn?" Cosima had stopped cold, perplexed.
"No, don't go. You've just gotten here and you're exhausted already. I can hear your breathing getting worse and I know you're still in pain. Nothing is definite, Scott said. Right, Scott?"
Scott blew out his cheeks, then nodded.
"Right, yes. These weren't official orders, yet…"
"Good," Delphine stated firmly. "So you can go and tell them. Tell them about Cosima's lungs and ribs and the burns on your arm. Tell them being moved that far could jeopardize your health. Tell them you are still… consulting with important members of the resistance — surely, Danielle can help you with that — and, and… is there a protocol for how you get assigned? Can you make a request? Cosima, she, she's technically a civilian contractor, yes?"
Scott was also gaping at her sudden insistence.
"Uh, yeah, yes, that's all possible, I guess. I can… talk to Danielle and I can get back to them and then call you when I hear something." He gave a sideways glance at Cosima. He knew she usually liked to jump into solving things herself, but she did seem tired, and nonplussed by Delphine's rapid-fire outburst. She merely gave him a wide-eyed look and nodded.
"Okay, then," he said, standing up. "Can I just use your phone to call Danielle?"
"Of course. This way." Delphine led him into another room, and soon the slightly muffled sound of his voice conversing on the telephone started. Cosima stood with her arms crossed, turning the last half an hour over and over again in her head. She was still standing there when Delphine and Scott reappeared, her ushering him out.
"Hang in there and get some rest, Cosima," Scott called to her as he moved toward the door. "I'll call you, and you can talk with them tomorrow, if you feel better." Cosima nodded and both of them disappeared from view down the hall. There was a short rumble of low, unintelligible conversation, and then the door closed, and Scott's footsteps died away.
There was a moment of silence, and then Delphine came striding into the room. She went directly to the liquor cabinet and poured herself a short glass of cognac, which she downed in little more than two gulps.
Cosima stared at her. Delphine had her eyes focused out the window, away from the woman she'd just professed concern about. After a moment, Cosima cleared her throat.
"Look, Delphine, I'm really sorry about before. I was just… I was out of line. I made a mistake, and, and I hope you can forgive me. Your friendship means so much to me, I… Delphine?"
Delphine half turned her head over her shoulder toward her, without really meeting her gaze.
"What was that you said before, about bringing music to perk us up? Why don't you put some on? I think I could use the… atmosphere."
Cosima blinked for a moment and then acquiesced.
"Ohhkaayyy," she acknowledged, and moved to the record box. She gazed down at it, the album titles something of a blur to her at the moment.
Delphine turned around and looked at her. She leaned over, propping her elbows on the back of a large chair near her, as if both moving casually closer and maintaining a divider between them. Her voice came out softer, lower, now. The staccato movements of the high tension moments before seemed to be easing.
"Pick whatever you want. One of your favourite songs. What were you thinking you'd play for me when you got them?"
Cosima cocked her head, then knelt down. She pulled out a record, and moved to the curved, art deco phonograph console. She let the tubes warm up and the turntable reach 78 rpm, and placed the needle on the shellac.
A saxophone began a jazzy introduction, and then a woman's voice jumped in. It was warm, but somehow weary and frayed, the delivery of the words bright and somewhat staccato, but slightly slurred as well, as if she sang in imitation of a muted horn playing a solo. Cosima closed her eyes to hear the first verse.
I've been around the world in a plane
Settled revolutions in Spain
The North Pole I have charted
But can't get started with you
She felt a light touch on her shoulder and turned around. Delphine was right in front of her, lips curved slightly upward. She put one hand on Cosima's hip and held up the other. Almost automatically, Cosima took the cue, echoing her position and joining their raised hands together. They began a slow and basic step-and-slide, gently swaying, Delphine in the lead. Cosima's posture was slightly stiff, pulled back, carefully maintaining a distance between them. She looked up at Delphine, who met her eyes with a soft, half-lidded gaze.
"Hm, the traveling in the lyrics. That sounds like you," Delphine said quietly, with a small, throaty chuckle. "This is Billie Holiday, non?" Cosima's forehead furrowed upward.
"Uh… yeah…" she managed absently, seeming uncertain, and careful.
I've got a house and a show-place
But can't get no place with you
"Cosima, you know I grew up in Paris. I'm not just a country girl." She leaned closer, her mouth beside Cosima's ear. "I know what it means to be an amazone, an invert, as they say in Britain." Cosima's fingers twitched, her clutch squeezing a little bit tighter on Delphine's hand.
Delphine eased back to look at her again.
"My parents actually took me to the salon of Natalie Barney, once. There were artists, writers, lovely people of all persuasions. Even if one woman was a little bit… insistent…"
"Delphine—" Cosima interjected, her tone apologetic.
"Shh, let me finish," Delphine stopped her.
You're so supreme
Lyrics I write of you
Dream, dream day and night of you
Scheme, just for a sight of you
Baby but what good does it do?
"We've been through so much," Delphine continued. "I, I've always felt a bond with you. But I began to realize… maybe it wasn't just friendship, for you."
Cosima sucked in a breath, her lower lip slightly trembling.
"And I didn't know… there was no time to think things through. And I almost lost you. And now, if they take you from Paris…"
They were barely swaying now, the bridge of the song swirling behind them, the saxophone crooning in a voice like honey.
"I don't want to waste any more time," Delphine said simply, and untangled their fingers to reach up and stroke Cosima's cheek. There was a moment of suspension, where their eyes roamed each other's faces in subtle movements, while the music unfurled like the hum of the universe around them, and the dust hovered in the air, in the late, golden sunglow that slid horizontally through the window and turned them luminous. And then Delphine kissed her.
Her lips were soft, but slowly insistent, pressing forward until Cosima opened hers with a small moan. Maybe this was new to Delphine, maybe she had never done it before, but her embrace grew firmer, gently avoiding Cosima's injured ribs, fingers splaying at the small of her back. Her lips grasped, head turning to different angles, exploring, and her tongue ran over Cosima's bottom lip in one seductive stroke.
Cosima snapped out of her trance. She let her hands roam through Delphine's hair, down the back of her neck, along her sides and shoulders. She dipped her tongue into the Frenchwoman's sweet mouth, and invited her deeper, tongues sliding against one another. Cosima felt a satisfying thrill as Delphine moaned in return. All of her nerves, her self-recriminations, censorship and worries were floating away, numbed, dulled, and then consumed in that kiss.
They were pressed sternum to sternum, breast to breast, hearts nearly thumping against one another, when Delphine broke the kiss.
"Cosima," she panted, her gaze almost drunken. "Je t'aime. I want you. I know it now. I want to make love with you."
"God," Cosima groaned, "Delphine."
They kissed their way to Delphine's bedroom, narrowly avoiding tripping over the boxes, bumping into the doorframe. Cosima hissed when they fell on the bed, and Delphine pulled back, worried, gently touching her fingertips to the smaller woman's ribs.
"I'm sorry. Are you alright? Should I stop?"
"It's nothing. Jesus, Delphine, don't stop."
They pressed against one another, undulating, kissing hungrily. Delphine ran her hands under Cosima's shirt, feeling her smooth flesh, her muscles flexing. Cosima clawed at the buttons on the back of Delphine's dress, trying to reach her skin. Delphine moaned and pulled her mouth away, resting her forehead against Cosima's. She bit her lip.
"Are… are you alright," Cosima asked her, eyes probing, concerned.
"Yes," Delphine replied. It was almost a whisper. A tear fell from her eye and tracked its way down her cheek. "It's just… I haven't been touched like this… with caring, respect, desire for all of me… haven't wanted to be touched, in so long."
Cosima swallowed, and caressed her face, wiping the tear with her thumb.
"We can go as slow as you want, as you need," she said. "I only want to touch you how and when you want to be touched."
Delphine turned her head to kiss the American's thumb.
"I don't want to stop," she affirmed. "I just think I've… I'm feeling so much. I'm a little overwhelmed."
"Okay," Cosima reassured her, "okay."
They kissed again, but it was slower, now. Their yearning showed in their touches, their trembles, but each gave reverence, respect.
They removed each other's clothes languidly, letting themselves feel each touch, and meeting one another's eyes for permission.
They caressed and kissed the smooth planes of one another's skin, but also the scars, the welts, the bruises. Each tremble was met with a steady hand, until muscles relaxed, then tightened again, this time with shudders and shivers of pleasure.
Delphine thought she was going to lose her mind when Cosima's mouth moved to her breasts, teasing and doling out long, soft licks, then flicking and sucking. Her body, once so armoured, was becoming warm, and loose. Her hips rolled upward to meet Cosima's above her, her face a portrait of desire.
Cosima's hands and mouth travelled her body, and she reached out to touch, to cup and stroke, squeeze and fondle, in return. They gloried in the feel of each other, but also in the feeling that they knew one another, had been working towards this for a long time, maybe longer than either knew, and now that they were together, nothing felt uncertain. It just seemed right.
"I love you, I love you," Cosima whispered when she slid her fingers inside Delphine, looking into her eyes.
"Uhn… I love you, Cosima. Je t'aime," Delphine replied, as the narrative of her mind fled, and she became lost in sensation.
They both cried, after her orgasm, the screaming release and the clutching hands, the flood of relief that life was good. They fit together, even as Cosima babied one side of her ribcage, even as Delphine bit her lip and looked to Cosima's face for approval as she touched her in return.
Delphine marveled at the warmth, the softness, the strength of the muscles that enveloped her fingers, the way sensation clouded Cosima's eyes, but she still remained patient, gentle, until Delphine arrived upon the right curl, the right motion and sweep of her thumb, and then Cosima wrapped her legs around her lover's hips and bucked, riding her hand with a beautiful, wild abandon, until she came, moaning an extended "ohhh," sending a rush of wetness flowing down Delphine's wrist.
They laid there, entangled, exhausted, breathing. They kissed.
"I'm not going to lose you," Delphine finally said, insistent. "We'll figure out something. I can't let you go."
"We'll figure something out," Cosima agreed, but she stared at the ceiling.
Everything was so perfect. How could it last?
You're welcome. ;)
Also, if you've been following the playlist, it should be clear what song fits here.