Diane wet her mouth and closed her eyes for a brief moment. The next line had been living inside her since the start of her novel. She knew it by heart. Felt the power of the words in her core. When she looked back into the crowd, she found Michelle. She watched Diane with an intense expression, waiting in anticipation for Diane to continue.
“I foolishly believed this ritual would throw my grief into remission.” Diane drew in a breath. “I conned myself into thinking the harsh scent of horse from my youth would project me into decades of new purpose and promise…”
Diane felt her words rising through her. Her mind slipped away as she read, recalling every time her confidence was dismantled by someone she’d loved, someone who should have supported her for better and for worse. How she endured their fights. Their knock downs. Punches to her self-esteem. Nora never understood her need to write, never understood the power it gave her. Perhaps that’s why Nora fought so openly against it. The pieces were only now clicking together. Nora wanted all the control herself. Wanted the spotlight and professional accolades to herself. And it worked. It took years for Diane to silence the self-doubt Nora inflicted her with, and find the courage to start writing. But now, here she was, reading her hard work and dedication to a crowd of captivated eyes. Diane could hardly believe it.
Pushing her shoulders back, Diane’s lungs filled with a new air of confidence and she projected her voice louder across the room. “Every time I entered my family’s barn, old dust clouds resurrecting from the floorboards wherever I stepped, my faith faltered. I paid my acts of contrition, begged for mercy. I tried to transcend the loss I felt inside those walls,” Diane paused and took one more look at Michelle, taking off her glasses to see her more clearly, “only to be left with the hollowness of myself, and the uncaring taste of equestrian grime.”
The final words fell from her lips, and Diane exhaled. She stared across the room, as a wave of relief crashed over her. It was over. She was happy for that. But also, for the applause she’d received, loud and encouraging from the coffee house—including an ear-piercing whistle from Michelle as she gave Diane a standing ovation.
Michelle pulled Diane into a hug when she came back to their table. Diane held her tight and breathed in the warm, familiar scent of Michelle.
“See? What did I tell you?” Michelle asked, keeping Diane in her arms.
“Thank you,” Diane said. Her chest filling with pride. She drew Michelle’s face towards her and kissed her passionately on the lips.
“Don’t thank me,” Michelle said. “That right there? That was all you, Diane. All. Freakin’. You.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Jeep’s headlights flashed over the old farmhouse as Michelle pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. They sat in silence. Aside from the hazy yellow glow drifting down from the porch light, the interior of the vehicle was murky, veiled in shadows. In the idleness, Diane toyed with her purse’s zipper, eyeing Michelle in the driver’s seat as she stared out the window into the darkness. A quiet uncertainty filled the space between them. Diane was unsure of what was to come next, if there was something to come next. The entire return drive to the islands, Diane was lost in thought, deliriously happy and bursting with pride. The overwhelming amount of praise and applause she received after her reading was stunning. It completely blew her away. Diane couldn’t wipe the grin off her face if she tried. Of course, the reading was only a brief snippet of her full-length novel, but Diane had been in dire need of the resounding approval that gave her a much-needed boost of confidence.
Diane didn’t want tonight, or this marvelous feeling, to end. Nor say goodnight to the incredible woman who made it all possible. She couldn’t get over how Michelle orchestrated this entire experience for her. Bringing her to an open mic night was a simple gesture, yes, but it meant more to Diane than she could’ve possibly articulated. Admitting how insignificant and foolish Diane felt in her marriage was not an easy task—it took a generous helping of courage, to which Michelle responded delicately. Caringly. Michelle heard Diane. She listened to Diane’s fears and insecurities, and instead of dismissing or inflating them even further, Michelle elevated her. Michelle’s confidence in her abilities allowed Diane to face her personal demons head on.
Diane had never felt so empowered.
Respected.
Valued.
What an absolute freakin’ turn-on.
On top of it all, Diane couldn’t remember sharing such a pleasant night out with a beautiful woman. Indulging in warm, delicious drinks, while the chilly autumn air clamored to get in. Watching talented artists and musicians. Sitting so close, Diane grew lightheaded indulging in Michelle’s heady scent beside her the whole night through. Michelle smelled so distractingly good, Diane could hardly keep her attention straight. And having Michelle’s fingers caressing her thigh the entire time, didn’t help any. Her seductive touch only wound Diane up further, finding herself engrossed in pleasurable predicaments in her mind, half listening to the performances while fantasizing other places, other ways Michelle could touch her. Pleasure her.
It was a downright miracle Diane maintained her composure and didn’t combust into flames. Thank goodness for her lavender tea keeping her somewhat calm and grounded. Did Michelle even know how deliriously aroused she’d made her? With only a slow, effortless touch? What would happen if Michelle had completely turned it on? There wouldn’t have been anything stopping Diane from pulling Michelle into the restroom stall and begging for her touch in more intimate places. Diane sucked in a sharp breath. She shook her head and pulled herself back into the passenger seat of Michelle’s Jeep. Her cheeks heated. Skin, tingled. If she didn’t control these wild fantasies now, she’d set the whole darn vehicle on fire; what Diane needed was a swift slap of cold night air to the face.
“So…” Michelle said, the one syllable slipping slowly off her lips. She turned to Diane. “Tonight was fun.”
“Yes!” Diane spat out hot and flustered. She cleared her throat. “Yes. It was.”
Michelle kept her eyes on her, a curious expression drawn across her face.
“I—I had a really nice time.” Diane fumbled with the handle and let herself out. She shut the passenger door and closed her eyes. “‘I had a really nice time’?” she mumbled to herself, embarrassed. “If that’s not the cheesiest line ever.”
“Are you sure you had a good time?” Michelle laughed. She jumped down from the driver’s side and met Diane at the front of the Jeep, running her hand over the smooth, black hood. “You bolted from the car like you were escaping a serial killer.”
“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to—”
“You know, the show’s over,” Michelle stepped closer, “you don’t have to be nervous anymore.”
“I’m sorry,” Diane repeated.
“Please don’t apologize,” Michelle smiled, “you’re incredibly cute all jittery and clumsy.”
Diane bit her lip with a soft chuckle. “Gee, thank you.”
Michelle’s smile widened. “You’re welcome.”
“But honestly, I do mean that. Thank you. For everything tonight,” Diane said, gazing at the dark sky for a moment. “I didn’t realize how valuable it would be to get positive feedback for my work.”
Michelle nodded. “Putting yourself and your art out there isn’t an easy task,” she said. “It’s normal to want reassurance.”
“Says the extremely talented glass blower.”
Michelle crossed her arms with a smirk. “I know it’s hard to tell behind this unshakeable and flawless exterior, but I have my share of doubts too.”
Diane laughed. “You say it so convincingly.”
“Not that I’ll admit it to anyone,” Michelle laughed, “but I do.”
“You’ve just admitted it to me.”
Michelle reached for Diane’s hand, toying with her fingers. Her eyes locked on Diane’s. “Yes, well, it seems you have a certain effect on me.”
Diane smiled. “I’m glad i
t’s not just me then.”
“Would you like to come inside?” Michelle asked, glancing at the house. “Have a drink? Or a bite—if you’re hungry for something.”
Diane followed Michelle’s eyes as they landed on her mouth. “I’d love to.”
Welcoming Diane inside, Michelle shut the door and clicked on the lights. The familiar and comforting scents of Michelle’s house wrapped around Diane like an inviting hug. She loved the way the farmhouse smelled—earthy and nostalgic, dusty yet clean, the aromas mixed with an undefinable scent Diane always detected with Michelle’s peppermint soap. Kicking off her boots, Diane placed them neatly on the entryway rug, while Michelle slid out of her blazer and placed it on the hook next to Diane’s peacoat. At the first sign of humans, Asher padded down the stairs—his chubby gray and cream belly jiggling between his legs—and followed them into the kitchen. He added a spirited hiss at Michelle as she stumbled over him, as he weaved through her legs to reach Diane.
“Nice to see you too, buddy,” Michelle grumbled watching Asher rubbing against Diane’s leg. Michelle dropped her purse on the kitchen table amongst the mountain of junk mail and the empty vase sitting on the table. “I see how it is. Aligning yourself with the one person who doesn’t scold you for jumping on the counter. Traitor.”
“I’m sorry,” Diane chaffed Michelle, crouching and scratching Asher’s head, before he abandoned her for his food bowl. “It’s not my fault he finds me irresistible.”
“I’m not annoyed at him in that regard. It’s the extra cattitude I could live without.”
“You mean the affectionate love hisses?”
Michelle laughed. “Yes. Those.”
Diane joined Michelle at the counter as she poked around the cabinet. “Are you sure you’re not jealous I was doting on him and not you at the moment?”
Throwing Diane a sultry side-eye, Michelle licked her lips with a blushing smirk. “Perhaps.”
Leaning over, Diane kissed her sweetly on the cheek. “Better?”
“No.” Michelle turned and kissed Diane fully on her lips. “Now, I am.”
“You’re not one to satisfy easily, are you?”
“I could just tell that’s what you really wanted,” Michelle said. Her smug grin punctuated with two sharp dimples. “So, what are you thirsty for, besides kissing me? I have sparkling cider which might be fitting for this occasion. If you’d like. I know it’s not proper toasting champagne—”
“It’s perfect.” Diane leaned against the countertop as Michelle pulled two glass flutes down from the top shelf. “Sparkling cider sounds wonderful.”
“By the way, we’re going to need a toast,” Michelle said, fetching the cider from the refrigerator. She popped opened the drink and poured each of them a glass, offering one to Diane.
“Thank you,” Diane said, studying the tiny bubbles floating in the amber liquid. “What are we toasting to?”
“To you, obviously,” Michelle said.
Diane blushed, hiding her gaze in her drinking glass. “It was only one reading,” she said. “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.”
“I’m not,” Michelle insisted, wrapping an arm around Diane and pulling them together. She raised her glass and waited for Diane to raise hers too. “You were amazing.”
Diane pursed her lips.
“Don’t give me that look, and clink our glasses together already,” Michelle grumbled, playfully. “And don’t resist my compliments. You were amazing, and not to mention, drop-dead gorgeous on that stage.”
“Oh, I see what’s happening,” Diane teased. Conceding, she tapped their glasses together and took a sip. “You watched my performance with your gay goggles on.”
Michelle choked on her drink with a laugh. “What does that mean?”
“I believe your assessment of my reading is skewed by your attraction to me.”
“That might be true,” Michelle smiled and brought their bodies closer still, kissing Diane on the lips, “I am admittedly biased towards you, especially when you wear those glasses of yours.”
Diane’s brows lifted. “Oh, really?”
“But it doesn’t take away from the fact you sounded brilliant.”
“Mm. I still believe your opinions are suspect,” Diane said. Her mouth was drying the way Michelle kept looking at her so intensely, and she sipped her cider to wet her palate. “I always thought I look like a highbrow English professor with my reading glasses on.”
“You do.” Michelle’s lips curled in a devilish grin. “That’s what’s so sexy about it.”
Diane shook her head with a laugh, downing more drink. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Would you like to take our drinks into the living room?” Michelle asked, filling both their glasses again. “Get a little more comfortable?”
Diane smiled, tipping her drink to her lips. “Sounds perfect.”
Maybe it was all in her mind, but Diane swore the energy changed between them as they entered the other room. The drinking glass tapped the coffee table softly as Michelle set it down, her eyes landing steadily on Diane as she moved to the corner and clicked on the light. The air turned palpable. Hot. Thick. Diane sensed it. She felt it as a surging heat crawled steadily up her neck. She heard it in her own heartbeat, her pulse falling into a deep, thunderous rhythm. Or maybe, Diane was only now becoming acutely aware of how alone they were. How intimate this situation was becoming. It was one thing fantasizing about getting Michelle alone, imagining all the ways they could kiss with Michelle’s hands on her bare skin, her long fingers in her silky silver hair, giving it those playful tugs, Diane was always hungering for. But it was a whole other experience living in the moment, seeing the intense way Michelle was looking at her now, experiencing the sheer magnetism escalating between them.
It’d been a long time since Diane found herself in this situation. Not only with someone new, but with a phenomenal, beautiful, intelligent and thoughtful woman like Michelle. The nervous fluttering in her stomach now, she hadn’t felt in forever. Divorce was a low blow to her libido; starting her love life over, Diane doubted she’d rediscover any sexual passion again in her fifties. In fact, after everything she’d gone through with her ex, she’d resigned to the idea of simply finding someone tolerable and kind, someone she’d enjoy spending time with. Yet here she was burning hot and heavy for Michelle. Diane wasn’t putting any pressure on tonight, or inflating her expectations beyond a little kissing, a little touching. But as she fixated on Michelle, feeling a surge of desire flooding her veins, Diane couldn’t help but want more than just letting her eyes roam over Michelle’s body.
Settling on the edge of the couch, Diane crossed her legs and wove her fingers around the stem of her drinking glass. She studied Michelle as she struck a match and lit the collection of white votives along the fireplace mantle. Touching the flame to the wicks, Michelle slid from candle to candle. Diane drank in the sight of her. She couldn’t get over how good Michelle looked. Her jewel-toned blouse complimented her dark hair and warm beige skin perfectly, its slim fit, hugging the delicate curves of her breasts and hips. Taking another long drink, Diane sighed and stared down into the glass wishing it wasn’t innocent, bubbly cider, but a heavy pour of something encouraging and bold.
“Are you warm enough?” Michelle asked. “I could have a fire going fast, if you’d like.”
“It’s plenty warm in here,” Diane answered. “Come sit.”
“You know…” Michelle spoke softly, joining Diane on the couch and grabbing her drink again. She sat closely with her arm draped across the back cushions. One leg tucked under the other. “I meant what I said.”
“About what?” Diane took a long swallow of cider, finishing off the glass and setting it on the table. She turned her body towards Michelle, resting her elbow on the back cushion and her cheek on her fist.
“About your performance.” Michelle looked at her, swirling the cider in her glass, before indulging in its taste. She eyed Diane over the rim as
she drank. “You still seem hesitant accepting how good your writing is.”
“That’s because it was one paragraph out of many,” Diane said. “During this whole process, my feelings about my book waver between absolute cockiness and crippling doubt. There never seems to be a moment of blissful indifference.”
“You shouldn’t feel indifferent about your work,” Michelle said. “I know good art when I hear it. And that was really good. You should be proud of yourself, Diane.”
“I’m trying,” Diane spoke softly, staring down at her lap, tugging a small loose string hanging from the hem of her sweater. “It’s difficult shaking the feeling of inadequacy left behind in the wake of my divorce.”
“There is nothing inadequate about you.” Michelle finished her drink and placed it on the table, before resting her hand on Diane’s forearm. “I’m sorry you’re feeling that way.”
Diane offered a stiff smile. “The open mic was definitely a step in the right direction.”
“I’m glad.”
“I don’t believe I would have ever done something like this tonight, if it wasn’t for you,” Diane said, looking into Michelle’s eyes. She fell into their warm, chestnut tones reflecting back at her. “I honestly didn’t expect the positive response I received. On top of your encouragement, it’s…it’s been an overwhelming evening.”
Michelle smiled and squeezed Diane’s arm affectionately.
Sighing, Diane pulled her eyes away, drawing them towards the ceiling with a shake of her head. “I’m not used to this.”
“To what?”
“Having someone so outward and generous in their beliefs in my abilities.”
“I’m so sorry, Diane,” Michelle said, her voice soft and genuine.
“My close friends are supportive, but to have someone I—” The emotional words came upon her unexpectedly and fell short in Diane’s mouth. She wet her lips and looked back to Michelle nervously, pulling herself together before continuing. “Having someone like you coming into my life, Michelle, has been soulfully rejuvenating.”
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