by Harper Bliss
“That’s it?” Dominique’s face was close to hers, drops of water falling from her hair. “Your first girlfriend hurt you and you believed everyone else would do the same?”
“She didn’t just hurt me. She fucking ripped my heart out. She wasn’t just my girlfriend, she was also my best friend. And I had to watch them go around campus together for the rest of my college career.”
“But these things happen, babe. You bounce back from them.”
“I bounced back, many times.”
“I don’t mean it like that.” Dominique practically sat between Steph’s legs.
“I know what you mean. I had crushes after Laurence. Girls I really liked, but I just never let it go further. I just couldn’t face the prospect of someone doing that to me again.” Steph cocked her head to the side. “And, well, I’ve never experienced a lack of women who were up for the sort of good time I was after.”
“All the hearts you’ve broken.” Dominique’s arms curled around Steph’s back.
“Nuh-uh. I’m always honest and clear about my intentions.”
“And now?” Dominique slanted her head towards Steph’s ear. “You’ve gone and fallen in love with a straight girl all over again.”
“I’d hardly call you straight, chérie.” Steph was surprised that Dominique’s last comment didn’t rub her up the wrong way. She planted a kiss on her cheek. “All that repressed lesbianism you need to get out. It makes you more of a dyke than me—at least in the bedroom.”
“I have a confession of my own to make.” Dominique broke free from their embrace and looked Steph in the eyes. “I told Philippe about you, about us.”
Steph’s eyes grew wide.
“I had to, because of the children. I thought he had a right to know that they were going to meet their mother’s lesbian lover.”
“You actually told another human being? This must be getting serious.” Steph pulled Dominique close again.
“I’ve introduced you to my children, it doesn’t get more serious than that.” She pinned her gaze on Steph’s. “And I’m glad I did.”
Not bad for a doomed relationship, Steph thought. She’d only gone and got herself a girlfriend.
JULIETTE
When Juliette turned her key in the lock of their front door, she was surprised to find it unlocked. At four in the afternoon on a Tuesday?
“Hello,” she shouted.
“Babe?” Nadia’s voice beamed from inside the flat. A few seconds later she appeared in the hallway. “What are you doing home so early?”
“I could ask the same of you,” Juliette said, although it was clear as day what Nadia was doing. Half of her face was covered in flour and she wore the large white apron she hadn’t put on in months.
“I wanted to surprise you,” Nadia pouted. “I figured I’d have the place to myself for the next couple of hours.”
“What are you making?” The return of homely Nadia filled Juliette with a warm glow. She stepped closer and wiped some flour off her partner’s nose.
“Homemade ravioli with parsley sauce.” Nadia curved her arms around Juliette’s waist. “What’s your excuse to skive?”
“It’s very quiet in the office and I’m expecting a delivery, which was meant to be a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?” Nadia arched up her eyebrows. “Tell me, tell me, tell me.”
“See, this is why I wanted it delivered when you weren’t around. You’re too nosy.” She put her hands on Nadia’s arms. “Is Saint-Vincent not crumbling without your presence?”
“I’ve decided to be more French about these things and take up at least half of the hours they make me work on weekends. You know, spend some more time with my lady.” She started walking backwards, dragging Juliette with her in her embrace.
“You mean fatten me up with luscious home-cooked meals?” Juliette let Nadia drag her into the kitchen. When she reached the fridge, she leaned against it with her back and pulled Juliette close for a kiss. Something smelled great and the aroma, Nadia’s warm welcome and the prospect of a long evening at home together, easily made Juliette forget about the mistakes they had made.
“As much as I would like to stand here and kiss you for a few hours, I must roll out the pasta before it gets too hard.” Nadia released Juliette, swatted her on the backside, and padded to the countertop.
“Would you like some wine?” Juliette asked, an automatic question so engrained in her daily life she still forgot that Nadia was trying to kick the habit of—at least—a bottle a day.
“I’m fine, but you go ahead, babe.” Nadia shot her a wink. Juliette could never have dreamed that their reunion would go this easily. Granted, they were still somewhat walking on eggshells, taking extra care not to say anything offensive, a reflex that would certainly wear off sooner rather than later, but still, this picture of domestic bliss she had just walked in on was not what she had expected at all.
“That’s okay.” Juliette grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and leaned against the window sill, watching Nadia work.
“Have you heard from Claire?” Nadia asked, while rolling out the dough.
“Yes, she has arrived safe and well and her family is driving her nuts already.”
“When she comes back, you can take some time off before things pick up again in September, right?” Nadia looked up from the countertop. “Should we go somewhere? Just the two of us?”
Juliette remembered what had happened the last time they had planned a trip. “Sure.” They were interrupted by the chime of the bell. “Ah, that must be for me.” She walked into the hallway and turned to Nadia. “You stay here, okay?”
“Yeah right.” Nadia wiped her hands on a towel and followed Juliette to the front door.
“LPM delivery,” a man said. Behind him stood another man, stabilising a mattress and three large cardboard boxes. “Installation included.” Juliette turned around, curious to see Nadia’s reaction. It was supposed to be all ready and installed—the old, soiled bed safely removed—by the time Nadia came back from the hospital.
“You got us a new bed?” Her mouth fell open as she stepped aside for the two men.
“Yep,” was all Juliette said, still unsure of how Nadia felt about it.
“I guess we can’t sleep in the guest room forever.” A smile started tugging at Nadia’s lips. She grabbed Juliette by the fabric of her blouse and pulled her close. “Can’t wait to break it in,” she said, before kissing her on the lips.
CLAIRE
“How’s the single life treating you,” Sam asked. Claire had always gotten on fine with her brother, until he’d had children—three of them. Claire loved Emma and Léa, the five-year-old twins and Nathan, their two-year-old brother, but, about six months after the twins were born, she had started wondering if she would ever get her brother back.
From the moment they’d been born, all of Claire’s conversations with her brother had been absorbed by news of the girls. They did this and then that. They’d both been sick. They can walk now. Have you seen how cute they are? Also, when she and her brother were not alone, he actually spoke in baby talk and, to her horror, Claire had started doing the same.
There was nothing more effective to make siblings grow apart than one of them having children while the other remained childless. As if procreating was the most important aspect of life, and an existence that didn’t even consider children was a mere waste of time. As much as Claire loved her nieces and her nephew, she loved her own child-free life just as much. Apart from the current bout of heartbreak she was battling.
“Don’t ask,” she said.
“Why not?” Sam looked at her expectantly. They had the house to themselves for a blissful few hours. Their parents had taken the kids to a new playground near Marseille and Sam’s wife had tagged along, not wanting to leave the grandparents alone with the burden of keeping an eye on three rowdy toddlers.
Claire wondered how Margot would have reacted to the chaos in the house. She couldn�
�t believe she had actually considered bringing her here. Their relationship had been much too young to even broach the topic of children, but Claire simply couldn’t imagine someone like Margot as a mother.
“Because.” She and her brother had always had an easy, effortless sibling relationship, banding together against the explosions of anger and misunderstanding in the Cyr house. It had become clear to Claire from a young age that her parents loved each other despite having not many things in common, resulting in frequent volatile moments. But, as a child, it wasn’t always easy to distinguish loud-voiced banter from a full-fledged fight.
“Because? Come on, Claire, it’s me, your little brother.” Maybe years ago, she would have been able to find comfort with her brother, and perhaps this was his way of trying to make up for their one-sided conversations of the past five years, but Juliette felt more like her family now. And Steph and Nadia.
“I met someone. It didn’t work out. Back to square one.” Claire tried to keep the pain out of her voice, tried to make Margot sound insignificant.
“I can see it in your face, you know. This woman hurt you.” If he continued like this, Claire would be reduced to tears again within seconds.
“Don’t pretend we’re still close and you care more than you do, Sam. Besides, I’m a big girl. I can manage,” she snapped. She remembered when she’d first told him she fancied girls. He was in his late teens and, probably imagining all sorts of things due to hormone overload, his eyes had grown wide as saucers, but he’d always, always been supportive.
“Wow, she must have gotten to you good.” He put a hand on her arm.
“Oh, fuck.” The tears were coming already. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Claire looked at him and realised there was comfort in being with her family, no matter where life had taken them.
“Tell me about her,” Sam insisted. He always did.
“No, I can’t. It’s still too fresh, too raw.” She looked at him in despair.
“Hey,” he said, while reaching for his phone. “I read about this app for lesbians. For hook-ups with people in the neighbourhood. It’s August, there must be some ladies of your persuasion around on vacation.”
Claire let out a weak giggle. “Thanks, Sam, but that’s really not necessary.”
“Come on, sis. You need to rebound. Get her out of your system. Have a holiday fling.” He painted that smile on his face—the same one Claire used for getting her way.
“This is a family holiday.” She shot him a fake grin.
“So? Do you think mum and dad will mind if you don’t come back one night? You’re forty-four, sis. You are a big girl.”
“I don’t even know why we’re wasting time discussing this.”
“Because we’re on holiday and it’s mandatory to have fun.” He held out his palm. “Give me your phone, I’ll install it for you and then you can still see what you do with it. Just so you have the option.”
Claire kept her phone close by—because someone might just call to apologise—and it lay on the table next to her glass of wine. “Never put your phone so close to your drink,” Margot had once said. “It’s asking for trouble.” She slid the phone over to Sam.
“See if you can find any Asian women on there,” she said, without thinking. “How do you know about these things anyway?” She tried to change the subject quickly.
“Asian, huh?” Sam looked at her while palming her phone. “I didn’t know you’d developed a taste for the Orient.” He rested his eyes on her. It was almost like looking in a mirror.
“Neither did I.” She watched Sam fiddle with her phone.
“I know when we went last year it was a bit of a dud, but I hear there’s a new bar in Marseille. Why don’t we check it out? Maybe tomorrow?” Sam asked.
“Why the sudden interest in my love life?” Claire swallowed a large gulp of wine.
Sam glanced up at her again. “I’ve always taken an interest.” He sighed. “You’ve had a sad scowl plastered on your face since you arrived. I’m just trying to help my sister, I guess.”
The tears started stinging again. Claire caught one with her thumb before it tumbled down, her emotions all over the place. “Do you really think they’re going to let you into a lesbian bar?”
He nodded enthusiastically. “I read about this place. It’s supposed to be really laid-back and dude-friendly.”
“Are we going for you or for me?” Claire asked, a grin forming on her lips.
“Ha ha, very funny,” he said while handing her phone back. “I’ve used the first picture I could find as your profile pic. You’re such a stunner, sis. Don’t be surprised if this thing starts going off immediately.”
Claire looked at her phone, shook her head, and drank again.
MARGOT
Margot looked at herself in the mirror and hated what she saw. She couldn’t find peace, not after what she’d done. Not that she had expected to fall right back into Inez’ arms after breaking up with Claire, but the guilt that had wrapped around her heart the second she’d left Claire’s flat had all but paralysed her. Inez wasn’t the problem. Inez was still Inez, confident, loud and utterly gorgeous. But this person looking back at her, was that really Margot de Hay?
She pulled her top over her head and glanced at her abs. They’d gotten more pronounced because she had to go to kickboxing class every morning, just to find some sort of release. And she was barely eating. Claire would have gone nuts over them. Inez as well, for that matter.
Stepping out of her pants, she recognised the heat that rose inside of her again. She quickly unhooked her bra and wriggled out of her panties. As outwardly morose as the whole breaking-up with Claire for Inez business had left her, the thirst inside of her could only be quenched by one thing. And kickboxing was not doing the trick.
She walked to her nightstand and unearthed a vibrator. No frills—like her—just a sturdy, quality piece of equipment that never let her down, that did the trick without her having to lose herself in fantasies. Mechanical and quick. Just what she needed.
Because fantasies would force her to choose, and Margot had already made her choice. Only, every time the moment arrived, in that split second she gave her subconscious free reign over her mind, she wasn’t so sure she’d made the right one. Hurting someone else was never going to be easy, especially someone as dear to her as Claire, but it seemed to be destroying her. Margot liked matters to be clean cut and right now, everything was such a mess. Everyone involved had gotten hurt.
Relieved that, at least, she had her flat to herself again, Margot reclined on the bed. While spreading her legs, she turned the bottom of the vibrator to switch it on. The buzzing sound alone was enough to make her clit throb. This was what she did now, every night before bed. She could hardly call it touching herself, because it was only the plastic that made contact with her clit for a few minutes of mindless relief.
The back of her head sank into the pillow as she brought both of her hands between her spread legs. With one, she pulled her pussy lips apart, while the other wielded the toy. The first touch of it against her clit sent a shudder up her spine, true to the tried and tested scenario. She tried to clear her mind as best she could while she let the vibrator hover over her clit, teasing herself. It was important not to think of anything as it touched down.
As she pressed it against her, the vibrations tickling her clit, she focused on her body, on how her abs contracted, and the air floating around her pussy lips. It worked—it always did. It was just a matter of failsafe mechanics. Just as the hum of the vibrator was foreplay, the touch of it sealed the deal. It shot through her in quick spasms, tugging at her soul. And in that moment of short but complete surrender, a new image filled her mind. Claire with her hands in Inez’ ginger hair, kissing her.
Margot moaned as the climax glowed inside of her, fading out quickly—this was not about orgasms with a powerful afterglow, just temporary relief. The image stuck with her as she dropped the toy next to her on the bed. It
was punishment, of course. Her subconscious berating her, because, really, how would two complete bottoms like Inez and Claire ever get off together? They weren’t going to tie themselves up, were they? Margot allowed herself a little snicker at the thought—a highly needed one.
Then the gloom returned. Untrue to her nature, she didn’t get up to wash the toy, but slipped under the covers instead. Claire would be away for a few more days and, before she returned, Margot needed to find out. She’d take Inez up on her offer and meet her for a date. How else could she really discover if she’d done the right thing?
STEPH
“How many people have you slept with?” Steph had been waiting for the right moment to drop that question. The children had been carted off to a friend’s house for a sleepover—a favour Dominique would only have to return once Steph had left—and she knew tonight would be the night Dominique would be reaching for the toy Steph had packed. Not only because it was inevitable, but because she’d been hinting at it all afternoon.
“Best lube up, babe,” she had said every time she refilled Steph’s glass of wine.
“Top up?” she asked now, an unambiguous grin smeared on her face.
Steph smiled back, nodded, and waited for Dominique to refill her glass and reclaim her seat at the end of the lounge chair Steph sat in. She went back to massaging Steph’s calf, which had gotten hurt after an unfortunate dive into the pool while playing catch with Didier.