by Ronica Black
She turned her glass on the armrest and seemed to be lost in the way the wine moved inside it.
“Yes, but I wasn’t in love with him like I should’ve been. I didn’t…yearn for him in that way.”
It took Carla a second to understand what she was trying to say. “You two always seemed so happy. So good together. You were so easy around each other.”
“We were. I think that was only because we were such good friends,” she said. “Best friends. And I miss him. I miss his friendship and the comfort of knowing he’s there. He’s a wonderful man, as you know. Very kind and good-natured and all, but there just wasn’t that…”
“Desire.”
“Yes.”
“Was there ever?”
Janice met her gaze. “No. But I didn’t know that then, didn’t understand that what I felt for him wasn’t enough. I loved him and he loved me. I thought it was that simple. I thought that’s how it was.”
“But you knew what desire was. What lust was. Didn’t you?”
“I knew about those things, sure. I just didn’t feel them. So, I thought that stuff must be for the romantics and the poets.” She seemed reflective as she turned her glass. “Maybe that’s why I love literature so much. For the romance of it all. That’s what I really want, but for some reason haven’t ever had.”
“Why do you think that is?” Carla asked softly.
She half shrugged.
“I was different.”
Janice drank, taking two large sips. Was she nervous about the conversation?
Carla could sense her anxiousness, but she couldn’t let it go. She now wanted, more than anything, to know everything. Who was this woman who’d been hiding right underneath her all these years?
“How are you different, Janice?”
“I was different because I didn’t feel those things.”
“Have you ever?”
She visibly swallowed. “Not then, no.”
“But you do now?” The question came out on a whisper and she was so desperate for her response, she thought she might fall off the edge of her seat from the anticipation.
“I—am aware of those feelings now. I know they are possible.”
“How do you know?” Carla finished her wine.
“Because something happened. Something that caused me to take a look at myself.”
Carla could feel her blood pounding in her ears. “What was it?”
She looked into Carla with a heat that pressed into her skin, teasing and caressing it, like the hot hand of a lover.
“What does it matter?”
“It matters,” Carla said. “You matter.”
“More wine?” she asked, suddenly rising from the couch. Her glass was nearly empty, and she was offering to take Carla’s.
Carla hesitated, completely startled but wanting to do anything to keep her talking. She handed her her glass.
“Please.”
Janice started to walk away toward the kitchen.
“Janice?”
“Yes?”
“The wine is…here, remember?” She motioned toward the bottle on the table.
“Oh.” She laughed and returned to her seat. “Maybe I’ve had more than I thought.”
Or maybe it was our topic of discussion.
Janice refilled their glasses and they both sat back and drank.
Carla drank a little more and tried to come up with a way to get her to answer her question, but she was growing more and more tired. The wine was working wonders on her mind and her muscles and she worried she might melt into the couch. She also worried that Janice would be able to tell what she was thinking because she was unabashedly taking her in now, studying every part of her body, openly admiring the lingering athleticism of her physique. For a woman who’d given up gymnastics decades ago, she still looked firm and toned, especially in her arms and shoulders. Carla had always told her how much she admired her throughout the years, even encouraging her to build her body and compete in fitness. But Janice hadn’t been interested, and most of the time she’d tried to downplay her looks. As Carla thought back, she recalled how she’d even blushed at her compliments. Had it been because she really was incredibly modest, or had it been because it had been her who was saying it?
Looking at her in that tank top, it was very obvious that she was embracing her looks now. She looked even more defined than she had been the last time she’d seen her. Maybe she was putting some time in on the weights after all. Whatever the case may be, she looked good. Better than good. She looked ravishing. Carla couldn’t tear her eyes away from her and, thanks to the wine, which had drowned almost all of her inhibitions, she realized she’d never wanted to be a tank top so badly in her life.
Janice was about to take another sip of her wine when she caught Carla looking at her.
“I’m staring,” Carla said suddenly. She hadn’t meant to speak aloud, but she was so hypnotized by her mouth and those tempting lips, she couldn’t help but want to witness the wine staining them red as she drank. “Forgive me,” she said, knowing she sounded crazy. “I need to sleep.” Fatigue flooded her, and all she could think about were the dangerous flash floods that wreaked havoc in Arizona during monsoon season. She felt helpless, like a person who’d been caught in one by surprise. She was being overtaken, soon to be swept away.
Her eyes rolled as she fought to stay awake. “I’m so tired.”
Janice was speaking to her, but she sounded so far away. She tried to reach for her, but her arm felt too heavy to move. Still, she could see her. Each time she was able to focus, she could see her and could even when she eventually closed her eyes for good.
“I see you, Janice,” she said. “I see you.”
Chapter Ten
Janice sat holding her wine, stunned into stillness.
“Carla? Can you hear me?”
She was out, switched off just like a light.
She set her glass on the coffee table and rested her hand on Carla’s leg. The firm warmth of it struck her, like she’d been bitten. She could feel the hot venom rushing through her veins, causing her heart to pound. She shook Carla quickly and called her name again. But there was nothing.
She removed her hand, hoping the heat coursing through her would ease.
It did not.
Too much had transpired. She was reacting to far more than the touch. Carla had been looking at her, staring at her. And it hadn’t been just any kind of look. She’d looked at her like she wanted her. She was sure of it.
It had started with her open admiration of her body, which Janice had noticed but quickly disregarded, convinced she was reading into something innocent because of her own attraction. And because she honestly couldn’t believe that Carla could ever feel that way about her. The idea was too farfetched, and she was content keeping it where it belonged. In her dreams.
But that last look, when Carla was intently watching her drink…as if she yearned to be the wine. That had been unmistakable.
That was desire.
Carla had wanted her, if only for a moment and she’d failed to respond or say anything at all. She’d froze. Like a deer in headlights. She had seen the headlights aimed right for her, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to move.
Unbelievable.
Now Carla had passed out on her. Any second chance she’d had at talking to her or sharing any of her feelings, were gone. This was turning out to be one of the most profound and yet unusual nights of her life.
Carla took in a deep breath, almost like she was aware of Janice’s thoughts. She moved a little, pressing herself back into the cushions of the love seat. Her hands were limp in her lap, empty glass leaning along with her to the left, her head now hanging slack in the same direction. She’d come to her for some decent rest in an actual bed. Janice couldn’t leave her conked out in an awkward position on her love seat. There was no way she was going to let her sleep like that.
“Carla? Carla. Carla, it’s time to go to bed. You don
’t want to sleep out here do you? Not when you have a nice, comfy bed waiting for you.”
Nothing. She was totally gone.
Janice now had her very own Sleeping Beauty passed out cold in her living room.
“Not exactly romantic for our first evening together, is it?”
She stood and stepped over Carla’s feet and settled in carefully next to her. She took the glass from her hand and set it on the table.
“Carla?” She squeezed her hand and studied her. The angles of her face were aglow in the lamplight and she looked peaceful and almost angelic. Her blond lashes added to that look, their color contrasting with the tanned skin they rested against. A lone lash sat below her eye, and Janice smoothed it away with her thumb. The touch didn’t seem to bother her, and Janice couldn’t resist doing it again. She held her breath and traced her fingers along her forehead, brushing back her short hair. Then she ran her fingers down the outside of her temple to her jawline.
“Dear Lord,” she said as she shuddered at the impossibly soft feel of her. She continued down to the graceful column of her neck and settled in the small dip near her collarbone, the place she’d wanted desperately to taste. Mind and body spinning out of control, she leaned into her, unable to help herself. She brought her lips a mere inch away from her and stopped. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, aware that she was losing control. But in doing so she inhaled her scent, the very one that had been driving her absolutely crazy since she’d first smelled it on her last visit home, the very one that had sent a shockwave of pressure directly between her legs when she’d walked in from her shower.
An audible cry of sorts came from her, and she squeezed her hand again, desperate for her to wake.
“Carla?” She released her hand and cupped her jaw. “Wake up, Carla.” Being so close to her, and holding her like that, like a lover would, tempted her even more. She wanted to throw caution to the wind and crawl atop her, take hold of her face, and wake her with her mouth, kissing and devouring her neck and her lips, tasting her and consuming her until Carla completely came to and responded by kissing her back.
“Carla? Oh, God, please wake up.” She groaned and rested her forehead in the crook of her neck. “What am I going to do? I’ve finally got you. Here in my home, on my couch and right now in my arms. And yet, I can’t have you.” She laughed, incredulous.
I have to stop this. I’m driving myself mad.
She tugged on her, desperation turning to aggression. It was what she had to do if she was going to be able to move her. “Carla, come on. We’re going to bed.”
“Wha?” she slurred. “We’re going to bed? Sounds good to me.” She grinned. Janice pulled her up and slung her arm over her shoulders.
“Can you walk? I need you to walk.”
“’K. I will walk.”
Janice walked with her as best she could, anxious to get her to bed where she could get some rest and sleep this off, and most importantly, allow her to retreat to her own room for some much-needed distance between them.
“Almost there.” They made it down the hallway and entered the guest bedroom where Carla had thankfully left the lamp on. Janice walked her to the bed and pulled back the covers just before Carla fell onto the mattress.
“My shirt,” she said, eyes half open slits. She fumbled with the hem, trying to remove the T-shirt. Janice wanted to help her, but she was hesitant. Was she wearing something underneath it? What if she wasn’t?
Carla continued to struggle, and Janice gave in and helped her. She was wearing something beneath the shirt, but the thin cotton bra didn’t cover much, and her eyes quickly traveled over the tight, etched muscles of her abdomen and back up to her small, firm breasts where her hardened nipples pressed against the thin material of the bra.
“Sleep. We both need sleep.” Janice refocused and touched Carla gently on the shoulder and helped her to recline. Then she lifted her feet and positioned her for the night and hurriedly covered her before she tortured herself anymore.
Carla was already fast asleep again, oblivious to everything.
She has absolutely no idea how she affects me.
She watched her breathe, took in the quiet beauty of her.
How can she be so alluring even while asleep?
She kissed her softly on the cheek. “Good night, Stargazer,” she said as she extinguished the light. She pulled the door closed behind her and crossed into her bedroom. She leaned back against her own door as it closed and took a deep breath. Her heart still raced, and her body was on fire. She entered her bathroom and turned on the shower. Then she turned and saw herself in the mirror.
“Oh, my God.” She covered her breasts with her arms, alarmed that they were exposed. Carla had seen. She’d worn this in front of Carla. It was what she wore every night and she’d been so excited, wanting to hurry to set out some food and wine for Carla, she hadn’t even given it a second thought when she’d changed into her sleepwear.
What she must think.
She lowered her arms and flushed profusely at what all Carla had been able to see. Did she think she’d worn this purposely? To seduce her?
She was burning with embarrassment and she wanted to go wake her to apologize and explain, but then she recalled the way she’d stared at her and the hungry look she’d given her. She’d obviously liked what she’d seen.
“Oh, my dear God.”
She stripped and stepped inside the shower. The cold water was a shock to her system, and it stole her breath. She prayed it would douse the flames of her desire, hoping, for her own sanity, that that old familiar saying about taking a cold shower was true.
* * *
Janice peppered the eggs she was scrambling, adjusted the heat, and then peppered the diced potatoes that were frying in an adjacent pan. She hummed along to the Stereo MC’s song “Connected” that played on her iPhone, and so far, the music was helping to put a little spring in her step and distract her from her memories of the night before. Carla’s confession to staring at her, along with the hungry look on her face, had not left her with any peace. And when she’d thought about herself and what she’d done in response…well, needless to say she hadn’t slept a wink. Carla might have been a little forward with her desire, but at least she had the excuse of alcohol and exhaustion. It was possible she hadn’t even been totally aware of her behavior. But as for her own, it was as real as the heat coming off the frying pans. And it had sprouted from the roots of utter desire. Not the buzz from too much wine or the fatigue of grief and lack of sleep. As authentic as it was, however, she hadn’t been courageous enough to express it while Carla was conscious. Instead she’d just about ravished her as she’d slept and then poured her heart out to her knowing she couldn’t hear her, couldn’t react or respond. Couldn’t, if she were being totally honest, crush her with rejection or, even more nerve-racking, tell her she felt just as strongly for her. And then there was the see-through tank top she’d been wearing. As if everything else she’d done hadn’t been shameful enough.
She shook her head, the embarrassment still too much. The only calm in sight so far was the distraction of music and the growing drowsiness from hours of overthinking and tossing and turning. She’d finally just got out of bed and dressed, giving up on any possibility of sleep.
Thankfully, though, she’d been alert enough to make sure she’d slipped on an adequately threaded T-shirt with her shorts. She’d still been worried about what all Carla would remember when she emerged from her bedroom and found Carla’s door open and her room empty. She’d immediately checked for her luggage, her guilt automatically leaping to Carla having packed up and left. But to her relief, her luggage remained by the closet. She’d still stared at her perfectly made bed in confusion and disappointment, though. Here she’d been worrying so much about what to do and what to say, she’d felt off-kilter suddenly realizing she didn’t have to. Not until later when Carla returned that is.
She just hoped she wasn’t upset. She didn’t want for eit
her of them to feel uneasy or awkward. That would only make for a long, uncomfortable stay.
“Lord.” She rubbed her temple, her worries jumping to whether or not she could keep her feelings under control. But wait a minute. If Carla really was attracted to her, why would she have to?
Because I’m scared. I’m scared of these feelings, even if they have made me feel more alive than I’ve ever felt before. And I’m scared of who I’m having these feelings for. Carla is Maurine’s niece. Her niece. And Maurine has no idea that I’m having these feelings at all, whether they’re for Carla or any other woman. She has no idea. She thinks I just need to find myself a new man.
There were just too many roadblocks on that path for it to lead anywhere other than dreamland.
She sighed and her body slouched, like she’d just exhaled the strength from her bones.
“Haven’t heard this song in a long time.”
Janice jerked, hand to her chest. Carla was standing in the doorway, coated in sweat, wearing nothing but a black sports bra and matching running shorts.
Dear, sweet baby Jesus.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
Say something.
She forced a laugh and inwardly cringed at how fake it sounded. “It’s okay.”
Say something else.
“I love a little jolt of sheer terror first thing in the morning.”
Carla leaned against the doorjamb and laughed, apparently amused.
Janice tore her eyes away from her and stared down at the eggs. She’d gotten a quick glimpse of her and that had been more than enough to weaken her knees and bring her to the realization that her previous use of the word sinewy had not been the adequate one in describing her. Her body was defined and her muscles very well-developed. She did indeed appear to be much stronger than she’d given herself credit for. That skinny little tomboy who had run around in her bare feet trying to catch lightning bugs in a Mason jar had grown up.
Had she ever.
“Your eggs,” Carla said.
“Huh?” She blinked. They were burning right before her eyes. “Oh, damn.” She moved the pan from the burner and stirred, but they were ruined. “Damn it, I don’t have any more.” She’d wanted, even more so now that Carla was there, to have a good breakfast. Carla especially needed one. She switched off the range and tended to the potatoes.