The Night Off

by Meghan O'Brien

  Nat rubbed a hand over her head, utterly delicious in all her butch glory. She’d changed into a spare set of clothes she kept at the penthouse, faded blue jeans and an obviously cherished T-shirt that bore the name of a band Emily didn’t know. Sexy was an understatement. She was pretty sure that if Nat asked her what was wrong, looking like that, she would have a hell of a time not spilling her guts. Doing so would surely end their date in a hurry. Then again, maybe that would be for the best.

  But Nat didn’t ask. Instead she said, “So do you like being an accountant?”

  Emily relaxed. That was an easy one. “I do. I love numbers. I find them very comforting.”

  “I’m impressed. I always hated math class, myself.” Nat gave her a not-so-subtle once-over, seemingly torn between amusement and desire. “Were you one of those brainy girls in high school?”

  “I guess so. I excelled in my classes, if that’s what you mean. Math most of all.” Aware that she was outing herself as a geek in a very big way, Emily couldn’t help but smile at her fond memories of precalculus and geometry. “I loved that numbers would never let me down. They’re consistent, understandable, and orderly—everything my life at home wasn’t.” She rolled her eyes. “God, no wonder I haven’t had a date in four years. Listen to me.”

  Nat reached over the center console and placed a hand on Emily’s thigh. “You’re adorable.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Are you kidding me? In high school I was the bad girl…and who do you think this bad girl always had crushes on?” Nat brushed her free hand over Emily’s breast, teasing her nipple. “The pretty, innocent valedictory types…the good girls. The girls who liked math class and blushed when they caught me staring.” She kissed Emily’s cheek, whispering, “You’re gorgeous when you blush.”

  Emily inhaled swiftly, nearly missing her turn into the grocery-store parking lot. “And you’re incredibly charming.” Overwhelmed by Nat’s proximity, she quickly pulled into a spot near the front entrance. Because Nat had taken a taxi to her workplace last night, riding together this morning had been a no-brainer. Unfortunately, the arrangement didn’t allow her any time to clear her head. “Dangerously charming.”

  “Charming, yes. Dangerous?” Nat shrugged as she unbuckled her seat belt. “I’m harmless.”

  If only. The strength of the feelings Nat stirred inside her was anything but harmless. Emily liked Nat, a lot, but she had so many things to hold together in her life. If she let any of them slip, she would fail both Colleen and herself. Romance was a distraction—one that would almost inevitably lead to pain. It hardly seemed fair to risk the relative order she’d finally brought to her and Colleen’s lives for something that could shatter her if it ended badly.

  Of course, none of her fears would convince her to call off their day together. Oh, no. Regardless of what her gut said, she was determined to see where the weekend took them. She was feeling good and having fun in a way she hadn’t in years, and she didn’t want it to end. Extending their date another day—hell, even two—was a simple matter of embracing joy where she could find it. And it didn’t have to be anything more than what it was: a good time.

  Emily smiled. “Maybe we have different definitions of ‘harmless.’ My ass is still aching from that spanking last night.”

  Quirking her lip, Nat said, “Well, you deserved that. And you seemed to enjoy it…very, very much, if your soaking-wet cunt was any indication.”

  Emily flinched at the vulgarity, her face warming instantly. Again, as it had last night, the word both aroused and disturbed her. She held her breath when Nat scraped her teeth over her neck, biting gently. The slight pain sent a tiny thrill through her body, and suddenly, embarrassed was the last thing she felt.

  Nat pulled back with a soothing lick to her throat. “I mean it. When you blush like that, it takes everything I have not to throw you down and just take you.”

  Emily’s pussy clenched. Gritting her teeth, she said, “We need to go in the store before I beg you to do exactly that.”

  “Exhibitionist.” Nat chuckled. “Come on. I just need to grab a few things. It won’t take long.” She opened the car door and climbed out like it was nothing. Emily needed a good ten seconds to remember how to use her legs.

  She finally got out of the car, rolling her eyes when Nat gave her a shit-eating grin. “Proud, are you? Of teasing the undersexed?” She sniffed, pretending to walk past Nat. “I’m an easy target, I get it.”

  Nat caught her wrist and tugged her backward, pulling Emily against her chest in a possessive yet tender embrace. Lowering her voice to a murmur, she said, “You won’t be undersexed when I’m done with you.”

  Grinning, Emily glanced around the parking lot to make sure no one was within earshot, then settled into Nat’s arms. “Promise?”

  “I promise. When you go to work on Monday morning and sit down in your office chair, you’ll be thinking about me. Because you’ll still be able to feel what I’m going to do to you this weekend.”

  Emily closed her eyes, battling the crush of physical need Nat’s words elicited. It was amazing how swiftly her newly reawakened sexual desire wiped away all her fears and doubts about spending the day with Nat. At this point it no longer mattered that she was frightened of all the ways this could turn complicated. She needed to feel Nat inside her again. Even if she was afraid that Monday morning would also bring a pathetic yearning for more, it was too late to do anything about it now. She was hooked.

  Nat kissed her ear, squeezed her around the middle, then released her. “Let’s hurry and get these groceries. The sooner we eat, the sooner we can go back to bed.”

  Emily opened her eyes. “Agreed.”

  *

  They finished their grocery trip in record time, and when they got to Nat’s apartment, they were in such a rush Emily barely had a chance to glance around at the décor as she followed Nat inside. The front room contained simple, elegant furniture and four bookshelves that were crammed to bursting. A few photos hung on the wall, but she didn’t have time to study them before Nat whisked them into an immaculate kitchen.

  “Wow.” Emily gazed around in awe as Nat set their grocery bags on the counter. The room looked as though it belonged in a different apartment—a much larger one, possibly a penthouse like they’d just left. Nat had brand-new kitchen appliances of all shapes and sizes lining the wide, stone counters, including some that she didn’t recognize. Her double oven was beautiful and expensive-looking—she doubted it had come with the apartment. “This is a pretty incredible setup.”

  Nat opened the refrigerator, which Emily could see was packed with fresh vegetables and cheeses, and withdrew a carton of eggs. “Thanks. My kitchen is my one real indulgence.” She grabbed a blender from beneath the counter, then quickly began pouring and measuring ingredients. “I spend a lot of time in here.”

  “Can I do anything to help?”

  “Sit there and let me admire you while I make you breakfast.”

  Emily sat on the stool across the counter from Nat. “I can do that.”

  Nat stopped what she was doing and leaned over the counter, kissing her on the lips. “When’s the last time someone took care of you?”

  Blushing, Emily said, “I can’t remember.”

  “This weekend, I’m doing just that.”

  It was against Emily’s nature to rely on anyone, for anything. She had always been the caretaker in her house, even when she was little, so not being the one doing had a tendency to make her uncomfortable. But she felt no discomfort with Nat. Just as Nat had put her at ease about submitting to a dominant lover, her calm competence in the kitchen allowed Emily to watch, content, as Nat prepared her a meal.

  Last night had clearly made an impact. Today she felt almost like a different person. A happier, more relaxed person. Emily folded her hands on the counter and exhaled, enjoying the uncharacteristic peace of a morning free of responsibility.

  “You look happy.”

  Emily lau
ghed. She normally held her emotions close, but apparently Nat had no trouble reading her. “I am. This is a nice morning.”

  “Good.” Nat pulsed the blender. “I’m happy, too.”

  Nat poured the batter she’d blended into a bowl, covered it with cling wrap, and placed it in the fridge. Then she pulled out a sharp knife and began chopping fresh mushrooms. At the store, she’d told Emily she was making her both a sweet and a savory crepe, and had offered a list of savory items she could incorporate. They’d settled on an egg, caramelized onion, and mushroom crepe, which would be followed by Nat’s favorite chocolate hazelnut fruit crepe. Watching Nat move around the kitchen with confidence, Emily sensed she was in for a real treat. The woman knew how to fuck and, it seemed, she knew how to cook, too.

  Emily scanned the room, looking for anything that might give her more insight into who Nat was. A small table with two chairs sat behind them. Hanging over the table, in full view of the kitchen, was a picture of a gorgeous brunette girl with familiar bone structure. She glanced between the photo and Nat’s handsome face a couple of times, trying to decide whether the woman in the picture was Nat’s mother. And whether it was acceptable to ask.

  “That’s my mother.”

  Emily jumped slightly. It was as though Nat was reading her mind. Unnerving, to say the least. “She’s beautiful.”

  Nat lifted her face and gazed at the picture. Emily could see love tinged with sadness in her eyes. “I think so, too.”

  “You look like her.”

  Having cut into an onion, Nat’s sudden tears might have just been a reaction to the pungent aroma, but Emily didn’t think so. It was obvious that this was a difficult topic. “Thank you.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin our happy morning.” Emily reached over the counter and rubbed away a tear with her thumb. “Let’s talk about something else.”

  Nat shook her head, then shrugged away from Emily and swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “It’s just this onion. I’m fine.”

  “Okay.” Wishing she knew how to move them past this moment, Emily searched for something to say. Frustrated when she drew a blank, she pulled her hands back and folded them in her lap.

  “I didn’t even know what she looked like, my mother, until I was sixteen.”

  Surprised that Nat had chosen to share something so personal, Emily was caught between sympathy and unease. This conversation was a far cry from casual sex. Yet she wanted to know more. “Your father never showed you a picture?”

  “No. We never had any around the house. We didn’t even talk about her. The first time I remember asking him about my mother, he slapped me so hard I fell down. I was four years old, but I’ll never forget it.” Nat’s hands kept moving as she spoke. She put the onions and mushrooms in a skillet to start caramelizing, then turned to the eggs. “When I got up the courage to ask him what she looked like when I was twelve years old, he told me that all his photos of her had been destroyed in a fire. And that since I was the reason she’d left—the reason she was dead—I didn’t deserve to see her, anyway.”

  “Oh, Nat.” Emily swallowed, sick to her stomach at the thought of any child being treated that way. That the child had been Nat—kind, handsome, considerate Nat—was almost unbearably painful. “That’s awful. You didn’t deserve that.”

  Nat paused in her preparations and gave Emily a tight smile. “I know. He was a bastard.”

  Emily glanced back over her shoulder at the vivid image on the wall. “So where did you get her photo? Grandparents?”

  “No, my father had been estranged from his family for years. And he never told me anything about my mother’s family, of course.” Nat paused, and Emily waited patiently for her to reveal more. “One day when I was in high school, I cut class and went home in the middle of the afternoon. My father worked nights—I’m half-convinced just so he wouldn’t have to see me—and he was passed out on the couch. He was surrounded by empty beer bottles, and he had these photos scattered across the coffee table. I saw one of a woman that I thought maybe looked a little bit like me, so I picked it up and saw my mother’s name written on the back. That’s when I realized my father had lied. He had pictures of her, but he was just too spiteful to share them.”

  Emily tore her attention away from the photo to watch Nat’s skillful ballet in the kitchen. Despite the emotion in her voice, she never missed a beat—pouring the crepe batter into a clean skillet, then rolling it around to coat the bottom. “Did you confront him?”

  “No, I took the picture and left. I went to my best friend’s house and gave it to her. I made her promise to keep it safe, because I knew if my father found it, I’d never see it again. And it meant so much to me, to see it.” With her back turned, Nat tensed her shoulders and her voice tightened. “I know it sounds silly, but finally seeing her face…it was the first time I’d ever felt like someone wanted me. Or loved me. Even though my father told me they’d never even wanted a baby, that I was a mistake, I didn’t believe it when I finally saw my mother’s eyes. They were too kind. And too much like mine.”

  Emily wiped her own eyes. If Nat weren’t so busy multitasking, Emily would have already rushed over to hold her. “I’m sure they both wanted you, sweetheart. Otherwise why would your father have kept you all those years?”

  “I don’t know. To punish me, maybe.” Nat gave her an apologetic frown over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, this is way too much to share on a first date. I don’t want to scare you off.”

  First date. That Nat thought of this breakfast that way implied that she saw this as more than just casual sex. And, terrifyingly, Emily was beginning to forget why that would be a bad thing. To the point where she felt compelled to reassure Nat that it would take a lot more than talking about her asshole father to dissuade her from moving forward with whatever was happening between them.

  Emily laughed. “You’re talking to a woman who once came home from elementary school to find that the beautiful canopy bed her grandmother had given her had disappeared from her bedroom, sold for drugs. After that, I slept on a mattress on the floor. My parents never replaced that bed, even though they had one of their own. Colleen never had a bed at all. She went straight from the crib to the mattress with me.”

  Nat flipped the thin crepe over in the skillet, shaking her head. “We had some fucked-up childhoods, didn’t we?”

  “Mine only made me stronger.” That’s what she’d been telling herself for years. Even if her childhood made it difficult to trust other people, and to relax, she’d learned self-reliance at a young age. In many ways, she was grateful now. “Sure, I would’ve loved the chance to just be a kid. But instead I learned to do for myself. I stepped up to take care of Colleen. And I’m proud of that. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”

  “You should be proud. You’re an amazing woman, Emily. Truly.” Nat leered at her playfully. “In every way.”

  The aroma of the food hit Emily suddenly, making her stomach rumble. “So are you. Whatever you’re doing over there smells absolutely delicious.”

  “Thank you. It’s just about ready.”

  Emily’s thoughts strayed back to Nat’s story. She couldn’t imagine a man who could hold onto misplaced anger for so many years, to the point where he refused to show his only child a picture of her own mother. How heartbreakingly cruel. She stood and walked around the counter, watching as Nat transferred food onto two plates. “So did your father ever realize that you’d taken your mother’s photo?”

  Nat bent toward the counter, applying some finishing touches to her dishes. “He was waiting for me when I came home that night. Met me at the door with his fist.”

  “Ouch.”

  “The school had called to tell him I’d missed my afternoon classes. He obviously put two and two together—missing picture, kid not where she was supposed to be. So he waited for me to get home and ambushed me. He slammed me up against the wall and screamed at me to give it back to him.” Nat put her spatula down, finall
y stepping away from the counter. She stared through the wall, clearly reliving that day. “I told him that it was gone. That it had been destroyed, and he’d never see it again. He had other pictures of her—I’d only taken one—but I wanted to hurt him like he hurt me. When I said that, he punched me, hard, in the chest.” Her hand drifted to her right breast, cradling it tenderly. “So I kneed him in the balls.”

  Emily stepped forward and took Nat’s hand. This really was intense first-date material, but knowing that Nat trusted her enough to talk about such a painful memory was heady. Stunned by the gift of Nat’s confidence, she wanted to show Nat that she was here and she was listening. “Did he let you go?”

  Nat shook her head. “He threw me on the floor and got on top of me. Slapped me, punched me, grabbed handfuls of my flesh and twisted, squeezed, then finally wrapped his hands around my throat. I thought he was going to kill me. Then he just stopped, and I saw fear in his eyes, and I knew—he nearly did. He nearly killed me.”

  “Is that when you left?” No longer satisfied with simply holding Nat’s hand, Emily wrapped her arms around her waist and held on tight.

  “Yeah, about ten minutes later. He let me off the floor and told me to pack my shit and get out. That he was done with me. I ran to my bedroom, threw as much as I could into my duffel bag, then went to stay with my best friend.” Nat gave her a gentle hug, then released her with a kiss on top of her head. “Savory crepe is ready. Let’s go sit at the table and eat. I’ll make the sweet one in a bit.”

  Emily nodded. “I think I’ll have a glass of water. How about you?”

  “The same, thanks.” Nat carried their plates to the table, then returned to take the two glasses of ice water that she had poured. She set them on the table and hurried to pull out Emily’s chair.

  “Such a gentleman.”

  Nat’s cheeks flushed pink. “Just taking care of you.”

  Mouth watering, Emily took in the mastery of Nat’s dish. The crepes were beautiful, the aroma heavenly. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been served such an incredible meal—if she ever had. “Oh, wow.”