Twice in a Lifetime

by Clare Lydon

  Sally waited a few moments to get her breath back, as Harriet kissed her shoulder blades. She eventually composed her thoughts, before sinking back into Harriet’s arms. “You think we could go to your bed now? Otherwise I might collapse on the floor right here.” She leaned her head back and kissed Harriet’s cheek lightly.

  “Your wish is my command,” Harriet said, scooping Sally up into her arms and carrying her to the bedroom, making Sally’s stomach churn with delight. Not only was Harriet damn sexy, she was also swoonful.

  “When did you turn into my knight in shining armor?” she asked, her words slurred as if she’d been drinking. Which in a way she had: drinking in all the love Harriet had to give. She was drunk on the stuff.

  But when her back hit the bed and Harriet was stripping off her black attire in front of her, revealing her tanned, toned physique and her gorgeous breasts with her nipples already erect, Sally suddenly became more alert, more awake.

  How could she fail to with Harriet naked in front of her?

  She held out a hand and pulled Harriet onto the bed, kneeling up beside her, running her hands over Harriet’s soft, smooth skin. Sally had long ago learned to live with her milky complexion, but Harriet was something else altogether, like she was born tanned. Sally recalled Harriet telling her she had some Mediterranean blood in her background, which would explain it. Sally was transfixed, Harriet’s body so different to her own.

  As Sally’s mouth traveled down Harriet’s neck, her tongue licking a trail down to her breasts and her nipples, she breathed in the scent of her: Harriet was quickly becoming one of her favorite smells. She took her right nipple into her mouth and Harriet sucked in a breath: her nipples had always been sensitive, Sally remembered that.

  And then Sally turned Harriet around and pushed her down on her back, with a sudden, overwhelming thirst for her.

  Harriet groaned as Sally’s polished hair caressed her stomach, her mouth traveling south, settling over Harriet’s core.

  “Spread your legs for me,” Sally said, her voice gravelly, speaking right over Harriet’s pussy, knowing her breath was right where it needed to be.

  Harriet groaned again, but complied.

  And when she did, Sally swelled with desire, licking her lips: she was desperate to taste her, to be inside her. Sally ran her tongue up the inside of Harriet’s thighs, before pulling her closer to her mouth. She parted Harriet’s legs further with both hands, before using them to open her lips and flick her tongue through her liquid heat, then back down. Slowly, tantalizingly.

  Harriet squirmed above her, and it was taking every ounce of naked ambition Sally had not to bury herself in Harriet, to bring her to quick climax, to proclaim her undying love for this woman again and again. But she wanted to take it slow, to give Harriet the best she had.

  Sally swirled her tongue around Harriet’s clit with sweet, teasing precision. When she eventually pressed her tongue flat and swept it north in grand, arching strokes, as if she were painting a masterpiece on Harriet, her girlfriend cried out, her body stiffening as Sally got into her groove.

  When Sally arced two fingers into her lover, still lavishing her clit with attention, Harriet tightened her grip on Sally’s hair. And as Sally swept Harriet over the edge with her grandstand finish, hot, bright lights danced in Sally’s soul as Harriet came all over her fingers in a hot rush of passion, studding the air around them with her cries.

  Sally never wanted it to stop, never wanted them to stop. They had so much time to make up for, it was dizzying.

  Desire drenched her body as she gave Harriet another crescendo, before her lover stilled her hand and her tongue.

  Only then did Sally crawl up Harriet’s body and grind into her, both of them breathing heavily.

  “Kiss me,” Sally panted, only vaguely aware of where she was and who she was.

  Harriet brought her head up and did as she was told, with Sally plunging her tongue into Harriet’s mouth, biting her lip, trying to envelop as much of her lover as humanly possible.

  When she pulled back, dazed and confused, she let a languid smile stroll on to her face, kissing Harriet again. “I love you,” she said, simply, staring into Harriet’s now dark green eyes, her face red, her breathing sketchy. “With everything I am, I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” Harriet replied. “I always have and I always will.”

  Sally crumpled at those words, her heart cartwheeling with happiness.

  She was home, at last.

  Chapter Forty

  Six weeks later, Sally stood in her old room: 34 years old and back in her childhood bedroom, with her mom downstairs watching TV. If she closed her eyes, it was as if the intervening years had never happened. And yet, she knew they had, and she was glad — yes, even the bad ones. Because all of those years had brought her to where she was now, and today she was happier than she’d ever dreamed. Who would have thought that meant coming home again?

  She was staying with her mom while she got settled and found an apartment; she hadn’t wanted to move straight in with Harriet, she didn’t want to move too fast when they hadn’t talked about it. Her mom wanted her to move close by, but that was never going to happen: it was too far from the center and from Harriet. Sally still had to decide where she was going to live, but Paula had told her not to make any plans until she’d heard about her proposition. Sally was meeting Harriet, Paula and Taylor later, so she guessed she’d find out the big secret then.

  One thing she knew: she was going to stay clear of Avondale, the area where Casey lived. Sally knew she might still bump into her wherever she was, but she’d rather not move next door if she could help it.

  Saying goodbye to the collective had been hard: she’d built a life there over the past few years, had come to see these people as her alternative family. She’d been sad, but also excited to get on with the next phase of her life: the one that came with the great unknowns of love and money.

  It turned out, in the end, Sally didn’t have to choose between them — both were being thrust upon her whether she liked them or not. She was still insisting Paula’s money was a loan and every time she did, Paula rolled her eyes. She was getting used to her aunt’s personality, but sometimes, she was still a little overwhelming.

  A car horn outside broke her thoughts and she scrambled for her bag, checking her make-up in her old mirror. She was getting a huge sense of déjà-vu, but then, this whole house was a melting pot of that.

  “Sally!” her mom called, as if she were deaf and hadn’t heard. “Harriet’s out front beeping her horn!”

  Sally yanked open her bedroom door and clattered down the stairs, looking around for a hairbrush as she descended.

  “It’s cool,” she said, opening the door and waving to Harriet. She always had been averse to leaving her car, and nothing had changed. She waved her hand, telling Harriet to come in, but she didn’t move.

  “Where are you going?” her mom asked, trying to make her voice as light as she could.

  “I told you — we’re meeting Paula and Taylor for dinner. Taylor just moved here this week, too, so it’s a celebration.”

  “Right,” her mom said. “You can tell Harriet to come in you know. She’s not a teenager anymore and I don’t bite.”

  Sally smiled. “I totally agree and I promise to work on her etiquette. But we’re running late, so you mind if I run?”

  Her mom shook her head. “Of course not,” she said. “Will you be home later?”

  Sally shook her head. “I’m staying at Harriet’s tonight, so I’ll see you tomorrow.” She gave her mom a hug and an extra squeeze. Having her daughter back in town meant her mom wanted to spend all her time with her, but Sally was having to put her foot down. “I’ll see you then, okay? Love you.”

  “Love you, too, sweetie.”

  ***

  “So what do you think?”

  They were back in the Links Tap Room in Wicker Park, home to Harriet and Paula, new stomping ground for Sally and T
aylor. The TV screens in the bar were showing its latest beer arrivals and a group of bearded men at the end table were studying them like they were a racing-form guide. Craft beer was now a serious business.

  “Tell me again,” Sally said, frowning. Ever since they’d arrived, Paula had been a blur of armography, like she was auditioning to star in a remake of Madonna’s “Vogue”.

  “Listen this time, okay?” Paula said, getting ready with her arms.

  Sally put a hand on her beer to hold it in place.

  “I’ve seen a building that I want to turn into an artist collective, just like the one you had in Queens. I’ll get someone in to project-manage the set-up, then when it’s done, you and Taylor can move in, get some more artists to move in, too, and we can design it anyway you want.”

  Sally pursed her lips: was Paula for real? This kind of thing didn’t just drop in her lap every day. Only, since she’d come back into her life, Paula had acted like her fairy godmother. Paula had led her back to Harriet, and ultimately, back home. It was almost enough to forgive her for the near-drowning incident when she was five.

  Almost.

  “That’s what I thought you said, but I just wanted to check.” Sally paused. “What’s the catch?”

  “There is no catch — I’m not doing this for charity. It’s a business, you’d still have to pay me rent. But if there’s a need — and I think there is a need, especially in an area like Andersonville, lesbian central — then let’s meet the need. Set it up, build it, they will come. It’ll be like Kevin Costner all over again. What do you think?”

  “I think it sounds… amazing. Perfect, even. Although the only caveat is, I will probably need a bigger workspace than I had back in Queens. What with Whole Foods wanting me now. Did I mention that?” Sally grinned as she spoke.

  Harriet put her arm around her and kissed her on the cheek. “I think you might have mentioned it once or twice.”

  Paula was doing the arms again. “That’s why you can tell me what you both want and I’ll get the architect to factor it in. Think about what didn’t work in the space in Queens and we can change it here. This can be a bespoke space for creatives, designed by creatives.” She rubbed her hands together. “I don’t know about you, but I’m excited.”

  “I am, too,” Harriet agreed.

  “Give me a minute, it’s a lot to digest,” Sally said, turning to Taylor. “I can’t see a downside, what do you think?”

  “I think it’s incredible and I think my girlfriend is amazing,” Taylor replied.

  “Finally, someone sees my true worth,” Paula said with a grin, leaning over and placing a long kiss on Taylor’s lips. “Shall we drink to it, then?” she added, holding up her glass. “To the Chicago Creative Collective — or whatever you want to call it. Here’s to all the dykes who flock there like moths to a flame.”

  They all clinked their glasses in celebration.

  “One last thing,” Paula said, raising a single eyebrow in Sally and Harriet’s direction. “I’m leaving the elevator christening to you both, as is now tradition. Let us know when you want to do it and we’ll take the stairs, won’t we, Taylor?”

  Paula and Taylor followed that up with screeching laughter, and soon, Sally and Harriet followed.

  If you couldn’t beat them, it was best to join them.

  Chapter Forty-One

  The clean country air was drifting through Harriet’s Prius as she drove with the windows down, the AC off. Over the years, she’d got bored of her whole life being air-conditioned, controlled, and sometimes when she was in the car, she liked to drive this way, feeling the wind ruffle her arm hair, the unseasonably warm November sun heating her skin. It felt good, but not anywhere near as good as having Sally sitting beside her, hand on Harriet’s thigh, a declaration of love in her heart.

  Sally had moved, and now it was Harriet’s turn for a grand gesture, although she was pretty sure Sally had a hunch where they might be headed, seeing as they were on the road they’d driven down many times before: the one that ended in her family’s lake house, where it all began.

  “You know, I remember this drive from all those years ago,” Sally said, taking her hand from Harriet’s leg and sweeping it through her thick hair. She’d let it grow over the past few weeks, and it was now nearly down to her shoulders. It suited her.

  “What do you remember most?”

  “Wondering whether or not I’d manage to kiss you. Wondering if I was a lesbian. Wondering if it was okay to kiss you after I’d kissed your brother.”

  “That was a little weird. I can understand you wanting to kiss me, but Daniel?”

  Sally’s laughter filled the car. “In my defence, he did have long hair and looked like a girl. Plus, I was young, so bite me.” She paused, turning her head. “Actually, I believe you did.”

  “Your hickey was tiny,” Harriet said, turning to her, demonstrating the size of the hickey with a tiny amount of space between her thumb and index finger.

  “Nevertheless, a hickey. What a predictable teenager you were.”

  “And what an unpredictable one you were. Thankfully. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here now, would we?”

  They pulled into the old house around half an hour later, cutting a Taylor Swift track in its prime and both sitting, staring. It looked just the same, and Harriet couldn’t wait to get inside to see what had changed. Her family had sold it around ten years ago, and it was now a rental — which was exactly what Harriet had taken advantage of this weekend.

  “This is more than a little strange,” Sally said, shivering as she got out of the car, even though the sun was still a hot yellow ball above.

  Harriet didn’t need to ask the reason for the shiver: being back was bringing up a torrent of emotions for her, too. “I know, I didn’t think this part through.” She walked around and stood beside Sally. “I thought it would be romantic, but coming back to the place where I spent my childhood summers is making me feel like I’m a kid again.”

  “You’ve got a better haircut now, if that helps.”

  Harriet laughed at that, and the tension was broken. “You always know how to make me smile, you know that?”

  “That’s a good thing, right?” Sally said, taking her hand as Harriet unlocked the black front door, walking into the hallway, the air frosted with furniture polish and air fresheners.

  “A very good thing. My mom always said to have humor in your relationship, that it was more important than anything else. But then she married my dad, so what does she know?”

  Sally elbowed her in the ribs as they walked through the large, airy hallway with the same plush carpet as before. “Your dad’s still recovering from major surgery, give him time before you lay into him.”

  When they entered the kitchen, Harriet smiled: it hadn’t changed a bit, still being the stylish space Robert had remodeled all those years ago. She remembered when it was done, the mess that had driven her parents mad all summer. Harriet walked in like she still owned the place, opening the double-fronted chrome fridge and pulling out a wicker picnic basket, along with a bottle of chilled white wine.

  “How did that get there?” Sally asked, her eyebrows knitting together.

  “I have ways and means,” Harriet said. “Plus, I bribed the owner with an obscene amount of money if they left it in the fridge, and it worked great.” She paused. “I thought we could take it out to the speedboat, a picnic on deck before it gets too cold? Only this time, we don’t have to smuggle the wine in your jacket.”

  “Which makes it not nearly as fun,” Sally replied, putting an arm around Harriet’s waist. “But this is fun, being back here.”

  “You’re sure?” Harriet asked.

  “Of course,” Sally replied, holding her gaze. “This is where we fell in love. How can it not be a good thing?” She paused. “But if you think you’re getting lucky on the speedboat today, I’m going to have to disappoint you. Yes, it’s warm, but it’s still November.”

  Harriet grinned. “Whe
re’s your sense of adventure?”

  She took Sally’s hand and led her out of the house and across the front lawn, where the leaves on the Sugar Maple trees had turned a vibrant rusty orange. The speedboat was in front of them, still tethered to the wooden jetty, her parents having sold it along with the house. Harriet offered her hand to Sally, wary of her fear of water, and she took it with a determined smile.

  Once they were both on board, Harriet unfurled the picnic blanket, securing it with the picnic basket on one corner, and her bag on the other. Then they both sat down together, pulling their jackets around them, legs splayed and squinting into the fall sunshine. Harriet didn’t say a word as she poured them both a glass of wine, holding hers up to Sally when they were filled.

  “To us being back here, where we first kissed.” She leaned forward and planted a kiss on Sally’s lips. “And to kissing you feeling just as good today as it did back then.”

  Sally’s blue eyes sparkled as she smiled at Harriet. “If anything, kissing you has only got better. But now there’s so much else to think about — being an adult is terrible. Moving back, finding somewhere to live, setting up the collective space with Taylor. It’s all a bit much to take in.”

  “And do I fit into that lifestyle change somewhere, too?”

  “You’re the catalyst — you and your suitcase-stealing ways,” Sally said, leaning forward and kissing Harriet again. “I’ve always loved you, Harriet Locke. It’s like the sun, shining every day. It just is.”

  And Harriet couldn’t agree more. When you loved someone so simply, so thoroughly, it was like breathing, like air. She hadn’t realized fully, but before Sally came back into her life, she’d been living in black and white, in an era before Sally. But now, the color had been switched on, the contrast set just right, and her life had never looked so rosy.

  She kissed Sally once more, her world view slurring as she did, and then came up for air, focusing on Sally’s beautiful face.