London

by Patricia Evans Jordan

  “That’ll be the least of his worries if he ever puts his hands on you again.”

  Bronwyn looked over at Jaq, still staring out over the waves. Her jaw was tense. She rubbed her forehead and ran both hands through her hair before she spoke.

  “If he ever does anything like that again, Bella, please come find me and let me protect you. I can’t let you go tomorrow unless you promise me you will.”

  Bronwyn nodded. “I promise.”

  Jaq looked at the last of the sunlight casting flecks of gold into Bronwyn’s eyes. She wanted to say a thousand things, but she just held her face in her hands, pulled her close, and kissed her.

  ****

  On the way home, they bought some ingredients at the market for dinner and as they climbed the hill, the stars were just starting to sparkle in the velvet black sky over the piers below. Jaq opened the door for Bronwyn and went to put the groceries on the counter. She looked thoughtful for a moment, then tore off a piece of the paper bag and wrote something down.

  “What’s this?” Bronwyn looked at it as she handed it to her.

  “I just realized we don’t even have each other’s phone numbers.”

  “That’s true, although I may have a different one after I get a new phone tomorrow.” Bronwyn tore another strip of paper off the bag and wrote down her address. “This is my address in Notting Hill, and I’ll text you my number tomorrow.”

  “Notting Hill?” Jaq raised an eyebrow. “That’s so posh even I recognize it.”

  “Don’t be impressed; I didn’t buy it. Dad gave me the house after I finished grad school. It was his grandmother’s. It’s a three-story semi-detached across from the park.”

  Bronwyn opened the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc they’d gotten at the wine shop in town and poured a glass for each of them. “Cheers,” she said, clinking her glass to Jaq’s.

  After she’d gotten everything out of the bags, she tossed Jaq a hunk of parmesan and dug a grater out of the drawer.

  “Any chance you can grate this for me while I start the pasta? Suddenly I’m starving for some reason.”

  “If you’d like, I can remind you why that might be,” Jaq said, brushing Bronwyn’s nipple with the back of her hand as she took the grater.

  Bronwyn looked at her and smiled. “You’re torturing me. You know that, right?”

  “That has not been proven, Ms. Charles. I think it’s the other way around.” Jaq took a sip of her wine and pulled herself up to sit on the counter.

  Bronwyn put the pasta on to boil while she put together a simple white wine and cream sauce. By the time it was done, Jaq had managed to coax a fire out of the logs she’d brought in earlier and they settled in on the couch to eat.

  “Wow,” Jaq said, coming up for air after a few bites of pasta, “This is seriously good.”

  “Don’t be impressed. There’s like four ingredients and one of them is pasta.”

  Jaq leaned over and refilled her wine glass. “By the way, I saw a painting last week that reminded me of you,” Jaq said. “Well, not a painting really, but a mural. It was on the side of an overpass near one of the council estates.”

  “Did you like it?”

  “I loved it, but it was just unexpected. I’ve driven by that area for years when I was in grad school, and it’s always been just concrete and council houses, typical low-income housing. Not too much different from the same kind of neighborhood in the states.”

  Jaq poured more wine into Bronwyn’s glass and handed it back to her. “I know it sounds dramatic, but it really did make everything around it look better.”

  Bronwyn took a last bite and put her bowl back on the coffee table. “Which one was your favorite?”

  “The one of a waterfall near Camden…but how did you know there’s more than one?” Jaq looked at her for a moment and put her fork down. “You painted them, didn’t you?”

  Bronwyn shook her head. “No, not at all.”

  She tucked her bare feet under Jaq’s legs on the couch. “I’ve been working with the council on them for the last two years as a community project. I plan the murals, map them out in sections, and families from the neighborhood each take one. It’s a little like paint by numbers, and I work with them to try to keep the sections looking consistent. By the time it’s done, the community feels like they’ve done something great together.” She smiled up at Jaq. “Or that’s the idea, at least.”

  Jaq leaned back on the arm of the couch and pulled Bronwyn’s feet into her lap. “That’s amazing, but I can’t say I’m surprised. It sounds like something you’d do.”

  Bronwyn crawled over to Jaq and settled into her arms.

  Jaq smoothed the hair off her forehead and slipped her hand under her shirt to run her fingertips across Bronwyn’s back. “How am I supposed to forget you when your paintings are all over London?”

  Bronwyn kissed Jaq’s chest, so soft it felt like breath. “I don’t want you to forget me.”

  Jaq brought her face up and kissed her, slowly unbuttoning her shirt at the same time. She whispered into her neck, “Then let me see you again.”

  It was a long time before Bronwyn answered, and when she did, her voice broke. “I can’t.”

  Jaq saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes before she turned her head to hide them. She’d been in love with Bronwyn since she was seventeen but she belonged to someone else now. It might have been different if they’d known the truth all those years ago, but there was no way to go back, and it wasn’t fair to ask.

  “I know, Bella,” Jaq said, tipping her face up and kissing the tears away. “Don’t think about it now.”

  Jaq kissed her with the intensity of every moment she’d never have, every morning they’d never wake to, every kiss she’d lost years ago and now had lost again. She slipped her shirt off her shoulders, brushing her lips over the pink buds of Bronwyn’s breasts, watching them harden under her touch, then held her eyes as she sank to her knees in front of the couch. She unbuttoned Bronwyn’s jeans and eased them down her hips, following every inch with her tongue. She took her time, memorizing her slowly, trying not to think that it might be the last time she’d ever see her. Bronwyn’s breath was soft and deep as she leaned back on the couch, watching as Jaq picked up her hand and drew her finger into her mouth, swirling it with her tongue, the silky warmth of her mouth making her ache. Jaq slipped her hand under the edge of her panties, leaving Bronwyn to feel the last heat of the dying fire touch her inner thighs as Jaq slid her thumb slowly over her wet clit.

  “What do you want, baby?” Jaq said as she slid her tongue up Bronwyn’s thigh.

  Bronwyn leaned back and closed her eyes as Jaq leaned in closer, hands on her hips, dragging the tip of her tongue over her clit and down the length of her soft inner lips, then back again.

  Bronwyn tangled her fingers in Jaq’s hair, pulling her closer. Her breath was ragged and left little room for words. “God, Jaq, you’re torturing me. I can’t take this.”

  She opened her eyes and Jaq saw how flushed her cheeks already were, her hands closed tight around Jaq’s shoulders, pulling her closer.

  “Bella,” Jaq whispered, smiling, her hand warm across Bronwyn’s stomach. “I haven’t even started with you yet.”

  Bronwyn ran her hands through her hair and moaned as Jaq drew her clit lightly into her mouth, brushing it achingly slowly with her tongue. She slid the tip slowly around the most sensitive parts, lightening her touch when Bronwyn’s breath quickened, then suddenly giving her the pressure she needed until Bronwyn started to moan. When she did, Jaq leaned back, slowly, letting just the heat of her mouth hover over her clit.

  She moved back up Bronwyn’s body to kiss her, working the fine mist of sweat gathered on her chest into her skin, then drawing her nipples hard into her mouth before letting them go with a soft scrape of her teeth. Hands tightened into Jaq’s hair as she moved back down between Bronwyn’s thighs, kissing the sensitive skin of her stomach before dragging her tongue back over her clit.


  “Christ.” Bronwyn’s hips begged, but Jaq stopped again just before she went over the edge and just kept her there, patient and silent. She sat back finally, looking into Bronwyn’s eyes as she slid two fingers inside and stroked her, listening to Bronwyn’s breath as she closed her eyes and moved her hips with Jaq inside her.

  “Do you want more, baby?”

  “I don’t know.” The fine mist of sweat on her chest had gathered now on her hips and thighs, shimmering in the last of the firelight. “I don’t know what I can take anymore.”

  Bronwyn arched her back as Jaq slid one more finger inside her. Her moans were soft and wordlessly pleading, then sharply intense as Jaq slicked her tongue back over her clit while she continued to stroke her inside. This time she didn’t stop when Bronwyn started to go over the edge, just slid her fingers deeper as she trapped Bronwyn’s hard clit under her tongue.

  “Jaq,” Bronwyn whispered, “God, don’t stop…”

  Her thighs trembled as her orgasm started to take over, her clit pulsing and hot in Jaq’s mouth. She cried out, her arms above her head, gripping the back of the couch as she shuddered to an orgasm that shook her with blinding power until she was breathless and trembling. As it finally faded, Jaq pulled Bronwyn to her chest, holding her there, smoothing damp hair away from her face until she finally caught her breath. When she finally heard her breathing calm and turn toward sleep, she got up slowly and offered Bronwyn her hand. Bronwyn looked doubtful; her thighs were still trembling, but she stood and followed her to bed, climbing in and watching Jaq undress in the dying firelight.

  “I’m so sorry about your shirt,” she said, looking back at where it lay on the couch and pulling the duvet up around her. “I don’t know how I got it so wet.”

  Jaq smiled, running a hand through her hair. “I know, Bella. That’s why I put it underneath you.”

  Jaq climbed into bed, her naked body pressed to Bronwyn’s, listening to the last sparks of fire settle into ash in the fireplace.

  “How did you know how to do that to me?” She whispered it into Jaq’s ear, not sure she could say it if she looked in her eyes.

  Jaq smiled, running her fingers through Bronwyn’s hair. “This isn’t exactly my freshman year with the whole lesbian sex thing.”

  Bronwyn was quiet, trailing her fingertips low across Jaq’s abs. “I want to know how to make you come like that.”

  Jaq raised up on her elbow and kissed her, pulling away with a soft bite at Bronwyn’s lip.

  Bronwyn held her eyes, still and intense. “Teach me.”

  Jaq’s gaze swept her naked body, then she turned over on her back, pulling Bronwyn over to sit across her hips. Bronwyn’s hair was wild and falling around her shoulders, her breasts still flushed, her nipples pink and tender. Jaq stopped to take in every inch of her, memorizing the sound of every breath. The silence was intense as her hands slid from Bronwyn’s hips to the familiar curves of her ass, pulling her tighter against her body. Bronwyn ran her palms over Jaq’s nipples, watching them tighten, then leaned forward and drew them slowly into her mouth, closing her eyes and delicately working each with her tongue. Jaq groaned, surprised at how much it affected her; Bronwyn was bolder now than when they were younger. When they’d been in school, she’d been too shy to explore Jaq’s body, and Jaq had been too distracted by hers to care.

  Bronwyn kissed softly down the side of Jaq’s neck, eventually moving back up to trace her ear with her tongue and the warmth of her breath. As she sat back up, Jaq held her gaze and started to move Bronwyn’s hips with her hands, sliding her back and forth, tight against her body. Bronwyn’s wetness slicked between them, and she started to gently rock her hips against Jaq’s as she leaned back, then drug her nails slowly up the inside of Jaq’s thighs.

  “Jesus.”

  Jaq’s voice was rough, hands tightening around Bronwyn’s hips as she guided her into the right rhythm, Bronwyn’s center sliding hard across her own. Her abs tensed and she bit her lip as Bronwyn rode her, matching her pace. Bronwyn watched as Jaq’s breath started to deepen, her eyes closed, every muscle in her body tight.

  “Fuck, baby,” she said, the words falling and disappearing between them.

  Bronwyn leaned back, her hands braced behind her on Jaq’s thighs. Heat built between their bodies and she rocked harder against Jaq’s clit as she held her hips. Jaq’s muscles tightened underneath Bronwyn’s hands, her eyes dark and locked on where Bronwyn’s body met hers.

  She slowed and brought Bronwyn down to kiss her, the familiar scent of her skin bringing sudden tears to her eyes. Jaq held Bronwyn’s forehead to hers until Bronwyn kissed her cheeks gently, then sat back up and started sliding her hips against Jaq’s again, holding her eyes until she was too close to do anything but feel. Seeing her like that was too much. Jaq’s breath quickened, then caught, and she cried out as she came. She pulled Bronwyn’s hips harder against her until a sudden orgasm whipped through Bronwyn’s body like a crack of lightning and she collapsed against Jaq, wondering if she’d ever catch her breath again.

  Chapter Eight

  So this is where you live?”

  Bronwyn looked up at the industrial building as she parked. It was five stories tall, with a crumbling plaster exterior that exposed the brick underneath, and tall oak arched doors.

  Jaq nodded, gripping the keys in her hand. “It used to be a furniture factory, and the converted lofts still have that gritty look, which is probably why I like it so much.”

  “That sounds like you,” Bronwyn said, looking over at Jaq. She felt suddenly desperate to memorize her lips, the angles of her face, the way her fingertips moved over her body, but she just leaned her head back in the seat.

  “Come upstairs with me,” Jaq said, turning toward her.

  The late afternoon sun fell across Bronwyn’s eyes, and she closed them before she spoke, tears soaking through her lashes.

  “I can’t,” she said, her voice a whisper. “If I do, you know I won’t leave.”

  Jaq looked out the window for a long time before she spoke. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

  A tear slipped down Bronwyn’s face. She took a shaky breath and turned to look at Jaq. “It’s too late. I can’t do this to Ian.”

  “Can I see you again?”

  Bronwyn shook her head, wiping the tears from her cheek with the cuff of her sweater. She started to speak, but a sob stole the words from her mouth, leaving only one. “No.”

  Jaq shut her eyes and ran her hands through her hair, then turned back to Bronwyn and held her face in her hands, kissing her gently and touching her forehead to Bronwyn’s.

  “I’m here,” she said. A tear dropped from Jaq’s face onto Bronwyn’s cheek. “I love you. I always have.”

  She got out of the car, put her bag on her shoulder, and shut the door.

  ****

  The second Bronwyn stepped into her house and dropped her bags on the floor, she knew Ian was there. She walked down the hall to the kitchen, where she saw him sitting at the table with a vodka bottle and a shot glass.

  “Where the fuck have you been, Bronwyn?”

  Bronwyn sank into the chair beside him, taking in his crumpled shirt and the tired lines of his face. “I’ve been stuck in Northumberland. They finally got my car fixed this morning.”

  “Did you even go to the wedding?”

  “Of course I did,” Bronwyn said. “You can ask my dad and Moira; they were both there.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I lost my phone. Moira’s was the only number I had memorized; she said she’d let you know.”

  Ian filled the shot glass and threw it back in one swallow, setting it back on the table with a sharp clink. “Right.”

  “Have you been here the whole time?”

  “Since yesterday. Moira spun me that same line of bullshit about your phone, so I wanted to be here when you got home.”

  “It’s not bullshit, Ian.” Bronwyn sighed and leaned back in her seat. Ian had
n’t turned on a single light, and the kitchen was dark as if no one was in the house at all. Shadows from the trees outside the windows were strewn across the floor as if someone had tossed them there.

  “The day of the wedding my phone quit and I just left it at the hotel; you know I’ve had the same one for way too long.”

  Ian walked over to the kitchen counter and came back to the table with a new iPhone in his hand that looked exactly like her last one. “I got you a new phone.”

  Bronwyn didn’t take it when he handed it to her and Ian set it on her side of the table. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said.

  Bronwyn got up from her chair and picked up the bag she’d dropped by the table. Suddenly, she was exhausted, too tired to think, or move, or argue with someone who thought she was lying. And he was right.

  “Ian, I’m exhausted, we can talk about this later. I’m going upstairs for a bath,” she said, looking back at him. “Can you lock the door on your way out?”

  Ian stood and set her bag on the floor before he pulled her into his arms. His unshaven face scraped her cheek, and he smelled of vodka and dry cleaning. Bronwyn felt herself stiffen.

  “You know I love you, right?” He pulled her back slightly and looked into her eyes. “I may not always show it as I should, but I panicked when I didn’t know where you were. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “I know.” She stepped back and picked up her bag. “But you don’t have to worry. I’m back now.”

  Ian squeezed her shoulder and grabbed his jacket from the back of the kitchen chair as he headed toward the front door.

  “I almost forgot,” he said. “A parcel came for you earlier today. I put it upstairs on your bed.”

  He shut the door behind him, and Bronwyn slid down the wall to the floor, silent tears crowding her cheeks, the memory of Jaq’s arms around her already fading into a pale gray.

  Later that night, she opened the plain brown box she’d found on her bed. Inside was a new pair of the same black leather boots she’d worn in high school. There was a note tucked into one of them, and Bronwyn opened it, her hands shaking.