by Clare Lydon
Sally ordered a mix of appetizers and entrées, and then busied herself pouring the wine. Above the chatter of other diners and the traffic noise as the door was opened and closed, all she could clearly make out was her heart thudding against her chest.
Harriet raised her glass to Sally’s, before giving her a smile that pierced her heart.
Resistance was going to be harder than Sally thought.
“Here’s to you,” Harriet said, not taking her gaze from Sally.
Sally clinked her glass, unsure of how to reply.
“So, you had business here this week?”
Harriet hesitated, then nodded. “Yep, new day, new designers. The amount of talent out there always amazes me.” She paused. “And I still want to see your designs, too. Any chance I could this trip?”
Sally shifted in her seat. “Sure, we could check out my studio after this — it’s just around the corner.”
“Cool.” Harriet took a sip of her wine. “And if I can help you with anything business-like, it would mean I’m not here on false pretences. I’m used to helping small businesses navigate commercial waters.”
“I’ll bear it in mind.”
Harriet gave her a studied look before she continued. “How have you been? Since we last saw each other, I mean.”
Sally shook her head, a wry smile on her lips. She wasn’t going to sugar-coat it, there didn’t seem to be any point.
“Honestly? A mess.”
Harriet beamed. “Me, too.”
“Really?” It wasn’t just her. Thank fuck for that. “You’ve confused me. Like I said, I’d written you off as my past, and I was happy with that.”
“Ouch,” Harriet replied.
“You know what I mean,” Sally said, giving her a look. “And now, here you are and I feel… on edge, like I’m not sure what’s going to happen. And I always know what’s going to happen, I’m usually in control of my emotions.”
“I’m glad I’ve thrown them off.”
“It’s no big surprise,” Sally said. “I just know that for the past couple of months, I’ve been distracted, and it’s not going away.” She stared at Harriet, until Harriet looked away, flustered. “What about you?”
“Me?” Harriet said, regaining her composure. “Well, let’s see.” Harriet counted on her fingers. “First, I’ve been so distracted I’ve thrown myself into my work, but I haven’t been doing a good job — my business partner told me that.”
“She did?”
“Uh-huh. And then when I told her I was coming out here, she got mad at me — she thinks I’m going to up sticks and leave her high and dry, and she’s got a very clear business plan that we committed to for the next five years.” Harriet shrugged. “So, she’s not happy with me, and even Daniel’s giving me pep talks, so things must be bad.”
“Anybody else? How’s your dad?”
“He’s recovering well — and thank you for sending him that card, by the way. That was really sweet of you.”
“You know about that?” Sally said, feeling a rush inside. It was the way Harriet was looking at her, with such gratitude and… something else she couldn’t quite pinpoint. “I sent it ages ago and I heard nothing.”
“You could have just called me, you know.” Harriet raised an eyebrow at her.
Sally blushed, biting her top lip. “I know, but sending your dad a card seemed easier.”
“Well, you made my dad happy. He keeps asking about you, which was inopportune when you’d kissed me and flown out of the state, never to return. It seems he’s harbored a crush on you all these years and I never knew until we got back in touch.”
“Your dad does not have a crush on me,” Sally said, giggling.
“I think he might.”
Sally shook her head, smiling. “So even with all these people on your case, you still texted. Does that mean you missed me?”
“I guess it must,” Harriet replied, sighing. “I wish this was easier, but it’s not. But I can’t ignore what every sinew of my body is telling me — that I shouldn’t walk away from this without seeing you again. I couldn’t leave it on that kiss.”
“Not without doing it one more time, just to see if the fireworks were a fluke first time around?” Sally said, covering Harriet’s hand with hers. And just like that, her own personal firework party lit up her heart, although she kept it under wraps, taking a gulp of her wine instead.
Harriet smiled. “I was hoping for that, but I wasn’t counting my chickens.”
“This isn’t easy, it never was — but I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me, too.”
Their appetizers of chicken wings stuffed with crabmeat, pork and chicken dumplings, and pork pancakes with chili arrived, all served on a platter with carrots carved into the shape of flowers.
“Wow, these look amazing. Just like you, by the way,” Harriet told her.
Sally held up a hand, even though Harriet’s comments had made her stomach do cartwheels. Not ideal when she was just about to eat. “Can we halt the charm offensive and eat first? Then, I promise you, you can lay it on as thick as you like.”
“You’re definitely one of the most interesting dates I’ve had in a while, you know that?”
“This is a date?” Sally asked, her eyes wide, a smile tugging on the edges of her mouth. She hoped it was, even though that scared her to death.
“It is now,” Harriet replied.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sally unlocked the door to her work-space, putting her finger to her lips, even though she had no idea why. There was nobody here to disturb, and she was allowed to be here, their building having 24-hour access. She snapped on her office lights and watched Harriet’s face as she took it all in.
“So this is where the magic happens,” she said, running a hand along Sally’s work desk, before stopping in front of her creative desk. It was a mess of wire cutters, material, paint sticks, and ink stamps, along with fine art pencils and beads. All the basics of a card designer’s day, which now to Sally appeared messy and somewhat childlike. She hoped Harriet didn’t see it that way. Sometimes she still marveled this was how she made her living.
However, it was the range of cards lining the wall behind her creative desk that Harriet was drawn to, Sally watching her body language as her eyes roamed her selection, some of which were still to be finished. Did she like them?
Sally hoped so, because this was her heart and soul on display.
“Wow, these are incredible, really,” Harriet said, pulling her chin with her thumb and forefinger. “I mean, look at the detail on these, they’re immense.” She pointed at one Sally was particularly proud of: a lesbian wedding card with a flash of golden velvet, on top of which two women were sketched in charcoal, the pair holding up a love heart hand-crafted in gold wire. “I love this one in particular,” she said, turning to Sally.
“I did that after marriage equality was passed into law, as a celebration. I’ve got a whole slew of them, but that’s my favorite. It sells well, too.”
“I bet,” Harriet said, stepping back. “These are so you, so intricate and done with so much love.” She turned to Sally. “I always knew you were talented when we were kids, but to make a living from your art is something else. It’s way beyond anything I do.”
Sally shook her head, thrilled that Harriet was impressed with her work. If she hadn’t been, she might have cried.
“Don’t be too sure of that,” Sally said. “Business is a talent, a skill. You’ve got people skills, and that’s something most artists should learn.” She grinned. “Although I’ve got better as time’s gone on, and Taylor, my buddy here — well, she’s the opposite of most artists, a social whirlwind. Which is probably why we get along so well, opposites attract and all that.”
“They should have something like this in Chicago — an artist collective. Is there one?”
Sally shook her head. “I’ve no idea, I’ve never looked into it.”
Harriet didn’t say anything,
just held Sally’s gaze, before looking away. She ran a hand over the wedding card before turning back to Sally. “It even feels expensive.”
“That’s because it is,” Sally laughed. And then every hair on the back of her neck stood up as the air in the room thickened with sexual tension. It was as if someone had got hold of the gauge and turned it higher than usual, like they were trying to see how far they could push it.
Sally gulped, staring at Harriet, not sure whether to act on it or run screaming out of here. Her eyes flicked to her office sofa, then back to Harriet.
A drink would settle her nerves.
Movement would settle her nerves.
“Shall we go back to my place? I have a nice bottle of Jack there.”
Sally’s heart was thumping in her chest, and Harriet’s gaze was fully on her, the heat almost unbearable.
Harriet gave a hurried nod, one that said a definite yes.
“Then let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The thick metal elevator doors slid shut and they were sealed in, the air close, Harriet’s smile fixed as she leaned back against the cool mirrored wall.
She caught Sally giving her a quick glance, her eyes not moving further north than her breasts, then she looked at the elevator panel before pressing the ground-floor button. It began its descent, the possibility in the air so palpable, Harriet could taste it, sweet and tangy on her tongue.
Just like she imagined Sally would be.
That thought sent a zap of desire to between her legs and she cleared her throat in case Sally could read her mind, allowing her eyelids to flutter shut for a second.
Harriet was just about to say something, when there was a bang, then a shudder, then the lights went out and the elevator came to a crunching halt.
“What the actual fuck?” Sally said, glancing at the lit-up elevator panel, then at Harriet. They were both silent, holding their breath, waiting for something else to happen.
When nothing did, Harriet pressed the help button, but there was nobody there.
“Anything?” Sally asked, wincing.
Harriet shook her head. She pulled her cell from her pocket, but the signal was non-existent, as she expected. “I’d say we’re stuck until someone realizes we’re here.”
“That could take forever — it’s Friday night!”
“Unless there’s another artist type in the building, chasing their muse and wanting to get out of the building sometime soon.”
Sally nodded slowly. “We’re going to have to hope for that, aren’t we?” Then she started banging on the door, shouting loudly. “Help! Is anybody there! We’re trapped in the elevator!” She carried on for a few seconds, then fell silent, waiting for any response.
None came. Sally used her phone light to scour the elevator panel, flicking a switch: the emergency light. A weak off-yellow glow filled the space, which they both augmented with their phone lights.
“This is not how I intended to spend Friday night,” Sally said, sliding to sit on the floor, her back to the wall. “At least the cleaners have been in — it smells like glass cleaner in here.”
Harriet grinned, sliding down next to Sally. “And nothing turns me on more than glass cleaner,” she said, inhaling deeply, wafting the smell into her nose. “If it’s any consolation, I’d imagined us in a fancy cocktail bar by now.”
“You would.” Sally nudged her with her elbow.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Sally shrugged. “You know – you’re the sort of person who goes to cocktail bars.”
“And what are you?”
“I go to beer bars.”
“We could totally have gone to a beer bar, too. I drink beer.”
“Yes, but that’s not what you imagined. You imagined cocktails, low lights, velvet cushions, touching knees.”
Harriet raised a single eyebrow as she moved her knee to touch Sally’s. “I’m the one imagining this, am I? Because that sounded suspiciously like your scenario, not mine.”
Sally coughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “Okay, busted. But I was imagining that at a beer bar, naturally.”
“Naturally,” Harriet replied, moving her hips closer to Sally so their thighs were touching, too.
Adrenaline pulsed through her like someone had just given her a high-speed dose of a Class A drug. But she knew full well what her drug of choice was: Sally. It had always been Sally.
“But let’s look at the evidence,” Harriet said, turning to Sally, waving her arm through the air beside them. “We’ve got touching knees and low lights.”
“Agreed.”
“So you just have to imagine the drinks, okay?”
Sally nodded. “Okay — what drinks did you have in mind?” She turned her head to Harriet. “And if you say a Slow, Comfortable Screw, you lose major points.”
Harriet let out a howl of laughter. “What about Sex On The Beach?”
“From where we are now, Sex On The Beach sounds a good alternative,” Sally said, before her breath stilled.
“What about a Kiss In The Elevator?” Harriet asked, eyes trained on Sally’s lips, her teeth a bright white landing strip in the drooping light.
“Is that a new type of cocktail?” Sally whispered, moving her head toward Harriet.
“It is now,” Harriet replied, leaning forward, not stopping to overthink it, and pressing her lips to Sally’s.
And just like the night in Chicago, 17 years of nothing were erased, and they were back in Harriet’s bed, back on the speedboat, back in her parents’ downstairs bathroom, Sally’s legs spread, Harriet pushing her up against the magnolia wall.
She’d never forgotten that memory, the taste of Sally’s mouth, the heat of her skin. And now Sally’s tongue was pushing back into hers, Harriet’s brain kicked back, poured itself a cocktail and turned up the volume everywhere. Harriet’s whole body was pulsing as she turned into Sally, pulling back from her mouth for a second.
“Oh, Harriet,” Sally said, her eyes ablaze, before crushing her lips to hers again.
Harriet knew what she meant. Even after all those years, she knew the language of Sally. The language of them. Harriet was kissing her first love again, and this time, Sally couldn’t run away — and Harriet hoped she didn’t want to. Because Sally was back in Harriet’s arms, where she belonged.
The heat was rising inside Harriet as Sally fumbled with the buttons on her shirt, squeezing her breast gently, her fingers connecting with Harriet’s nipple through the material. Harriet let out a moan.
Those hands: Harriet remembered those hands.
“I…” Sally began, pulling back, her hair pushed to one side.
She’d never looked more beautiful.
“Is this okay? Should we wait?”
“Do you want to?” Harriet asked, her chest heaving up and down, pressing her lips back to Sally’s again in a wet, sticky, sexy mess.
She didn’t want to wait another minute, another second.
Every part of her body was pulsing to be touched, and she didn’t care they were stuck in an elevator.
If anything, being stuck in an elevator was making it all the more erotic.
Sally paused before shaking her head. “I don’t think I can, I need to feel you. It feels like we’ve been teasing each other all night,” she said, pushing Harriet down on the floor, ripping her shirt open, and smothering her semi-naked torso in kisses.
Harriet’s brain wobbled, along with her whole body.
So this was how Sally played it these days: rough and proactive. She could so get used to it.
And she had to agree with her: they had been eye-fucking all night.
Now, it was time to go further — and that thought made Harriet’s whole body groan with longing, wetness pooling between her legs. She couldn’t wait to be touched or to touch: she wasn’t quite sure which she wanted more, but she wanted them soon.
Sally wasn’t wasting any time. She knew this wasn’t the moment for sweet noth
ings in Harriet’s ear; this was a moment for action.
That’s when Harriet heard a zip coming down, and Sally’s fingers slip inside her underwear. She moved her hips so Sally could pull her jeans down and then Sally was spreading her legs, peppering Harriet’s neck with kisses as she loomed over her, her eyes dark in the liquid light.
Before Harriet could process any thoughts at all, Sally’s hand was hot over her very core, before she slipped one finger into her liquid heat.
Harriet bucked her hips in response, crying out as she did.
Oh fuck, she even remembered what Sally felt like, how she added another finger, like now.
How she fucked her, like now.
This was going to be messy in so many ways. Gloriously, deliciously messy.
Messy in a way that had been missing in Harriet’s life for nearly two decades.
Harriet reached up and pulled Sally down for a kiss as she fucked her, slowly at first, before she increased her speed. Harriet spread her legs as far as her jeans allowed her, feeling how wet she was, as Sally groaned on top of her.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Sally said, crushing her mouth to Harriet’s again.
Harriet didn’t answer: she didn’t need to. She was too busy kissing Sally’s lips, too busy feeling her muscles tighten, feeling a flash of lightning at her very core, then its aftermath begin to rumble through her like thunder.
Suddenly, Harriet’s world became brighter, bolder, the blurred edges crystallising once more. This was what she’d been waiting for — the missing piece in her life puzzle. And when Sally swiped her thumb over Harriet’s clit, Harriet collapsed with desire, hanging onto Sally with everything she had.
Harriet had fucked a number of women in the intervening years since Sally, but not one of them had felt like this. Not one of them had made her heart pulse anew, as if it had just had a jump-start.
Seconds later, when the lightning struck again, it rattled through Harriet at speed, as she came undone at Sally’s hand, just like always, like nothing had changed. And as Harriet cried out, thanking the stars for realigning and the thunder for returning, Sally pressed her lips to hers, sunk her fingers into her, and she didn’t think life could get much better as her head fell back, thudding against the floor.