by Harper Bliss
“But, no, that’s not—” I try to interrupt her, but she holds up her hand.
“Listen to me, Laura. There is simply no way I’m taking someone to bed who isn’t one hundred percent ready. I’d constantly be wondering whether what I’m doing is triggering some nasty memory. But—” She holds up a finger. “What I would like to do, tonight or tomorrow or some time next week, is stay the night. Just sleep in the same bed with you. Fall asleep next to you and wake up next to you in the morning. Would that be okay?”
“Yes. More than okay.” I look at Tess and conclude I will never know the full extent of how lucky I’ve been to meet her.
“Slumber party?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” I try to mimic her accent but fail miserably.
✶ ✶ ✶
After an evening of eating frozen pizza, sharing a bottle of wine—my drinking is increasing by the day—and talking while the TV played in the background, we take turns in the bathroom. I go first and when I emerge I find Tess with an exaggerated expression of worry on her face.
“What’s wrong?” I crouch down next to her.
“I didn’t bring my pajamas. Do you have an old t-shirt I can use?”
“Not an old one. I got rid of all my old clothes before I moved here, but you can borrow one from my vast collection of brand new white tees.” I dig my fingers into her thigh to not lose my balance.
“I’m such a tall drink of water, it won’t cover much.” Her smile is wicked and slow. “Do you think you can handle that?”
“I think I’ll be fine.” I push myself up, grab a t-shirt from my wardrobe and give it to her.
When Tess is in the bathroom I consider how, earlier, she so deftly defused the situation, but how, because of the early stage of our relationship, some sparks of tension remain. I hop into bed and wait for her there. Of course, Socks has followed me, and has already taken position in his favorite spot on the pillow.
“I may have forgotten to mention that it’s a threesome slumber party,” I say when Tess exits the bathroom. She wasn’t lying when she said my t-shirt would barely cover half her body. The panties she’s wearing don’t leave much to the imagination either and I’m left to conclude that she must have dressed for what won’t be happening tonight.
Tess brings her hands to her side and utters a big sigh. “Who am I to come between a lesbian and her pussycat?” Then she rushes to bed and slips under the covers with me. Just the weight of her body, and the heat that radiates from it, and the earlier sight of her in her barely-there panties and t-shirt that exposed a sliver of skin of her belly, is enough to send my mind racing into another tailspin of horniness and fear.
“Lights off?” she asks.
“Yep.” I find the switch above the bed and the room turns dark. We’re both lying on our back and I, for one, am afraid to move a muscle.
“You don’t snore, do you?” Tess asks.
“You’ll soon find out.”
I feel Tess inching closer. “Good night, Laura,” she says, and kisses me on the cheek.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
TESS
Trying to fall asleep next to Laura and in Laura’s bed is not an easy task. I’ve fallen into a restless slumber off and on but, mostly, I’m just waiting for dawn to break through the curtains. It doesn’t help that Socks breathes way too heavily for a kitten his age and size—as though every single one of his exhales needs to show utter contentment.
I try not to toss and turn too much, and to keep to my side of the bed. Not only so I don’t disturb Laura, but even more so for my own peace of mind. It was a good idea in theory, one I applauded myself for because I didn’t feel like driving home with images of what could have been assaulting my brain throughout the journey again, and because it displayed a sensitivity toward Laura that she obviously still needs. But now, lying here next to her, it’s more stressful than I could have anticipated. I also wonder if she has slept at all. The last time Laura shared a bed with someone must have been with Tracy, this woman who is dead but still controls a big part of her life—mine as well.
I’ve been able to resist googling her, because I don’t know how it would make Laura feel if I told her that I did. Additionally, I guess I’m afraid of looking at the face of someone who will probably look as ordinary as the next person, someone whose face won’t bear any signs of the things she was capable of.
“Are you awake,” Laura whispers, startling me.
“Yes. Wide awake, in fact.”
“Can’t sleep, huh?” Her voice sounds sleep-drenched.
“Strange bed and all that.”
“It’s my bed and I can’t sleep either.”
“Well, that’s perfectly understandable, of course, what with the foxy lady you have lying next to you.”
“Tell me about it.” Laura snickers and every single smile or giggle or chuckle I get out of her, always feels like a small victory.
Laura obviously doesn’t believe in alarm clocks so I have no idea of the time. The room is totally dark and I can only hear Laura’s voice and, when I turn my head, make out her contour under the duvet.
“Do you want to spoon?” she asks, startling me again.
“Sure.” Instantly, my pulse picks up speed. “Outer spoon or inner spoon?”
“Inner,” she says. Perhaps because the room is bathed in darkness I can make out the inflections in her voice better, but it sounds a little hoarse—it sounds like she desperately wants something.
“Here I come,” I announce. I turn on my side and shuffle closer to Laura until my belly touches her backside. I slip one arm under my pillow and curve one over her middle, unsure what to do with my fingers, so I just let them dangle in the space in front of her belly. I leave a tiny gap between our bodies, but she surprises me by pushing herself against me. There’s no way I’m getting any more sleep now. “Is that okay?” I ask.
“Perfect.” She tilts her head back a bit, and some of her hair gets caught in my mouth and tickles my nose, but I don’t care. “Will you be able to go back to sleep?”
“No,” I say, truthfully, eliciting another giggle from Laura.
“Aren’t you exhausted from working on the ranch all day?” she asks, her body convulsing against mine a bit. “All those bulls that need taming and cows that need a-milkin’.”
“Hush now, girl,” I say in the dirtiest Texas accent I can muster.
“What do you do on the ranch exactly?” she asks.
“Just prance about in my coveralls with a blade of grass between my teeth, whistling and overseeing my land.”
“Is it ever possible to have a serious conversation about you?” Laura shifts against me—perhaps I’ve agitated her?—and, as a result, her ass presses hard into my belly.
“If you catch me at the right time.”
“Seriously, though, Tess. I’ve told you so much about me, and I’ve gotten to know your family, and the place where you’ve lived your whole life, yet, sometimes it feels as though I’ve only just scratched the surface of Tess Douglas.”
“I’m just not that interesting.” Compared to Laura’s, my life so far has been a breeze.
“I hope I’m not prying, but… there must be a reason why you never wanted to leave Nelson. I get that you’re close to your family, especially your sister, but isn’t falling in love supposed to be stronger than that?”
“What do you mean?” She has me thoroughly confused.
“Have you never fallen in love so hard that it made leaving Nelson a no-brainer?”
“I have. And I have left Nelson. I told you about that. But it didn’t work out.”
“Come on, Tess. Give me something to work with here. Everyone has a dark secret. What’s yours?”
“I’ve fallen in love; I’ve had my heart broken; and I’ve felt very lonely. That’s all I can tell you. What you see is what you get with me.”
“Okay.” She latches on to the arm I have draped over her. “Then I guess it’s official. I’ve never met anyone like you b
efore. Someone who has it so together there’s nothing beneath the surface when I scratch.” She runs her fingernails over my skin.
“Is that your way of saying I’m boring?” I can’t keep a note of indignation out of my voice.
Laura turns on her back. My eyes have grown accustomed to the darkness enough for me to make out her features. “God no. Maybe I was just trying to erase a bit of my own darkness by digging up yours.” She’s still running her nails over my arm. “Or making sure you really weren’t too good to be true.” My arm now rests just underneath her breasts.
“What can I say? I’m a good girl.” Because she’s stroking me, I start skating my fingers over her side in return. My mouth is close to her temple, so I kiss her there.
“Right now, it doesn’t feel as though I’m lying in bed with a good girl.” Laura clamps her fingers around my arm and, at first, I think she wants me to stop but, instead, she angles her face toward me and kisses me full on the lips. My hand rides up a little, to the bottom of her breast, and I just let it rest there while we kiss.
“I want you,” she says, when we break from our kiss.
“Are you sure?” My hand scoots up a little higher.
“Yes,” Laura pants, turns fully on her side and presses herself hard against me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
LAURA
I press myself hard against Tess, wanting to feel as much of her body against me as possible. Her hand lingering below my breast was what finally pushed me over the edge. The unmistakable effect it was having on me, together with the intimacy of our conversation, all bundled up together like that. She made me feel safe and protected—enough to go through with this right now at least. I want her. And I’ve stopped asking myself whether it can really be as simple as that. I had to because the answers were driving me crazy.
I need to get out of my head now. I need her to do that to me.
“Hold on,” I say when we break from our embrace. I push myself up on one elbow and grab Socks with my free hand. “I’m very sorry, little mister, but you don’t want to see this. Time for you to go catch some mice.” I put him on the floor, knowing full well that kittens don’t take hints like that, but maybe he’s hungry—and we’ll get lucky.
Though I’m getting lucky already. I can barely see Tess, but I see her eyes shine through the darkness, and I can hear her breath come quick with anticipation, mixed in with my own shallow breaths, because now I’ve taken this next leap, there’s no going back. Yes, I’ve been afraid, but this has been brewing between us for weeks. This is my time to let go.
I start unbuttoning the very chaste pajama top I put on. I can’t bear to feel its fabric on my skin anymore. Everything needs to go. I’m all in. I want her to see and explore all of me—after all, I’ve allowed her to explore much more of my soul than any other person has in a long time. I let my top slide to the floor. I’m in no position to get the bottoms off as well, but I’m sure Tess will take care of that in due course. Because that’s the overall feeling I get when I’m with Tess: that she’ll take care of everything from now on. I’m no longer alone. And I want her so badly, my clit is a throbbing mess between my legs already. It pulses like a second heartbeat, pumping desire through my veins.
I flank Tess with my bare chest, pressing a breast against her while I let my finger slide under the hem of the t-shirt she’s wearing. Maybe this deal was sealed when she came out of the bathroom before we attempted to sleep. The way she stood there, with her confidence slightly chipped away, and her long, long legs uncovered—her entire stance an invitation I was almost ready to accept.
My finger on her skin is like a drug. Like that first sip of alcohol after a year of abstinence. This tiny gesture, and this tiny surface where our skins meet, gives me the confidence to exclaim a resounding, though silent, yes to her invitation. I was never shy in the bedroom and I want to show her how I feel, I want her to know that she didn’t wait in vain. And that, without her, I would never have been able to build myself up again so quickly in this little town. Though, on the surface I wasn’t able to welcome the persistence with which she pursued me, it touched me deep in my heart. It showed me that second chances are real.
She lets my finger continue its slow, upward drift along her belly. The t-shirt rides up along with it and, already, I can’t wait to do this in the clear light of day. Light catching in that reddish blond hair of hers, making it look ready to catch on fire any time, like her, like me. To see every inch of her, to share that level of intimacy with another person.
I feel her hand on my back now, tracing its own figure-of-eights, doubling the sensation, multiplying the meeting of our skin. And then I can’t bear her being covered by any fabric any longer. I push the t-shirt above her breasts, revealing them to my gaze and I think about how right this is. Though I can’t wait to repeat this in daylight, I find it apt for our first time to happen in the darkness of a Nelson night. It symbolizes my own journey from complete ink-black darkness to the little amount of moonlight in my bedroom to whatever light tomorrow, or the day after, or the week after brings.
Tess moves her arms over her head, and I push the t-shirt all the way off her. When her hand returns to my back, it’s no longer with a light touch of fingers, but the insistent press of nails against skin. I lean down to kiss her and this is the kiss we’ve been waiting for. Not just her—though I’ve teased her long enough—but me also.
Because underneath all the anguish, doubts and hopelessness I’ve felt for months, there was always a real person lurking. A creature of flesh and blood with too many feelings and cravings and desperations, but a human being nonetheless. And it’s what made it harder and easier at the same time. Even in the deepest recesses of my depression, of learning to deal with what I had done, I could always feel my heart beat with a zest for life I couldn’t really understand. How could I want to continue living after ending someone else’s life? How was that fair? But my heart kept beating like a steady drum, like a cheer, like a rhythmic chant telling me it would be okay. Because what choice did I have but to keep going?
When we break from this kiss, we are both panting, and the temperature in the room seems to have gone up a notch. I slip half on top of Tess, our breasts meeting, my knee between her legs, getting a little ahead of itself, but I can feel my body taking over now. As though it’s saying ‘Enough’ and locking all my Tracy-related thoughts in a box in the back of my mind, only to be opened again after pleasure has been bestowed. Pleasure and the memory of Tracy can never go together, and my body knows that—every cell of my being knows that.
My lips roam across Tess’s neck, pause at the hollow of it, then trace a path down. I glance at her breasts before peppering them with kisses, before closing my lips around her nipple. I grab her other breast with my right hand and let the pure lust riding in my veins take over. I catch her nipple between my teeth, let them sink in until she utters a little yelp, then move on to the other. On a much smaller scale than when I moved to Texas, I’m drawn south again. To where that flimsy pair of underwear is not doing a good job of covering her. I trace a moist path down her belly, along the waistband of her panties, then kiss her through the fabric. I inhale deeply and am floored by how much I’ve missed another woman’s scent. By the primal feeling of it, the acute but simple necessity, by the intimacy it implies.
Tess starts whimpering beneath me, her hands lodging themselves in my hair, while I keep teasing her through the fabric, or perhaps I’m afraid to take the next step—the final one. To look at her there, no barriers between us, will be a point of no return. But I don’t want to return to the Laura I was before Tess. Before she climbed into my bed. This divine woman with a heart so big she had room in it to revive mine. Then the moment comes when my fingers push aside the slim panel of her panties and I’m faced with the complete gloriousness of Tess Douglas. But this is not a moment for looking, or pondering, or even thinking the tiniest thought. This is the moment I let my lips descend upon Tess’s sex and taste
her, drink her in and, in the process, shed my old skin and grow a new one. Because with Tess, I have no need anymore for the thick skin I lived my life with. The armor I wrapped myself in to keep everyone out. She couldn’t be more in now.
I kiss her nether lips, then let my tongue skate along the length of them. And she tastes so earthy, so tangy, so womanly, the sensation connects with my own clit, and I can feel its pulse reverberate through my entire body.
“Oh, Laura,” Tess moans, and the croak of her voice connects with my heart, and my heart connects with my tongue, and we’ve become one being, it feels like, in that moment I unleash my tongue on her clit. It dances and dances, and I suck her into my mouth, play with it there, drink her in, feel her nails pressed into my skull, and think, no, this is not how I want it. This is not the pinnacle of intimacy I crave right now.
So, under soft protest from Tess, I move my face away from between her legs and, my lips smelling of her—an essence I’d like to carry with me for a good long while—I climb up to greet her, to look into her eyes, to see her. I let a hand slip into her panties, and her wetness on my fingers instigates another round of violent throbbing between my own legs, and push one finger inside.
“Oh,” she groans, and brings her hands around my neck. “Oh God, Laura.” Tess tilts her head back, offering her neck to me, and I kiss it, but only briefly, because I want to see her face. I add another finger and increase my pace, and to be inside of her like that, to give her this pleasure—and take a great deal of my own in the process—is like a giant eraser being swept over the pain in my heart. And I know it’s not because of the simple, primal act of being inside her, but because of all that came before since I met her. All the things we’ve said and done that brought us to this point. To this night I couldn’t even have imagined if I had wanted to. No fantasy was able to break through my shield of fear, until now. Now, it’s real. This is not a fantasy version of Tess bucking her hips against my fingers, this is the real, formidable, amazing Tess Douglas who saw something in me when we met at the supermarket that day. It doesn’t even matter what she saw at that moment, all that matters is that we’re here now, together.