Write Your Own Script

by A. L. Brooks

  “Oh, damn.” She groaned. “I’m so sorry, I completely forgot I have to be somewhere tonight. In all the excitement and nerves it totally slipped my mind, but that ping has just told me I have a rather boring dinner tonight with the producer of the show I’m filming right now.” She smiled at Maggie. “But don’t ever tell her I think she’s boring if you meet her, okay?”

  Maggie laughed, and it lit up her face. Tamsyn drank in the sight, storing up every feature, every molecule of smooth, lightly tanned skin until whenever they could see each other next.

  “Your secret is safe with me.” Maggie pushed back her chair and stood.

  “Maggie, if I could get out of it, I would, I—”

  “Tamsyn, it’s fine. Honestly. We both have commitments like that. Everybody does. Relax.”

  Every time Maggie said that word it had the intended effect. Tamsyn’s shoulders loosened, her breathing eased, and a smile broke out across her face.

  “You’re very good at doing that, you know.”

  “What?”

  “Calming me down.” Tamsyn walked around the table to pull Maggie into her arms. It felt so good to hold her this close, to inhale the scent of her hair, have the warmth of her invade Tamsyn’s body.

  “Mmm,” Maggie murmured, her mouth close to Tamsyn’s neck, her lips a teasing breath away from touching it.

  “I might need that from you in the next few weeks,” Tamsyn admitted, only slightly worried about being so honest. “It’s not going to be easy.”

  Maggie eased away to look at her. “I know. And I’ll be here for you. Promise.”

  A rush of heat that had nothing to do with the proximity of their bodies swept through Tamsyn, and she glanced once at Maggie’s lips before pressing her own against them once more. Maggie felt so perfect in her arms, and her mouth transported Tamsyn to somewhere everything else was forgotten. Maggie’s tongue pushed deeper into Tamsyn’s mouth as her arms tightened, and between Tamsyn’s legs a throbbing started that was so intense it was almost painful.

  “What are you doing tomorrow evening?” Tamsyn asked, breathless.

  “Babysitting my two nieces,” Maggie replied with a grimace. “Saturday? I know it’s the twenty-third, and pretty close to Christmas, but—”

  “Saturday is perfect,” Tamsyn jumped in. “Come to my place? Dinner?”

  Maggie’s eyes shone. “I’d love that.”

  “Wonderful.” She stole another kiss, then reluctantly pulled away. “Okay, I need to call my car firm to get a ride home but as soon as I’ve done that, can we have some more of this,” she kissed Maggie again, “while we wait?”

  Maggie grinned. “Oh, yes. Definitely.”

  Chapter 22

  “Where the hell are the napkins?” Tamsyn said to no one as she rushed from one side of the kitchen to the other. Great, senility can only be a whisker away.

  She pulled open drawer after drawer, slamming the last one shut in frustration when the napkins failed to appear. Maggie was due to arrive in less than fifteen minutes and the perfect table Tamsyn had hoped to display was far from it. Abandoning the napkin quest for now, she concentrated on lining up the cutlery, the glasses, and the antique silver salt and pepper shakers that had been a gift from her mother before she’d died. Next the champagne was placed in its cooler on a mat in the centre of the table, with two elegant crystal flute glasses next to their sister water glasses. None of these fancy accoutrements had seen the light of day in months, possibly years. But she wanted everything to be perfect tonight and had sent her own head into a tailspin.

  The timer on the oven pinged and she dashed over to stare through its window. The bubbling around the edges of the dish told her the fish pie was done, so she dialled the temperature knob back to a ‘keep me warm but don’t cook me any more’ level and huffed out a breath to blow a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. A quick glance over her shoulder at the clock on the wall told her she now had less than five minutes to find the bloody napkins.

  After ripping off the apron she’d worn to protect her little black dress, and stowing it in the washing machine out of sight, she trotted down the hallway—there was only one place left the pesky napkins could be hiding. She let out a whoop of triumph when they revealed themselves in the middle drawer of the sideboard where she stored all that stuff you only ever needed to use once a year.

  She had just finished folding the second of the two napkins when the doorbell rang, and her heart, which had been beating a fairly rapid pace for the last twenty minutes or so, jumped up to fifth gear.

  “Come on, it’s Maggie. It’s okay,” she muttered to herself as she used the reflective qualities of the oven door to check her hair one more time.

  Breathing in and out a few times, she walked down the hallway to check the video intercom. There was Maggie. Her stomach flip-flopped. She took a deep breath and pulled open the front door. Her heart calmed, as did her breathing, and a smile broke out on her face.

  “Hi, come on in. You’re right on time.”

  Maggie returned the smile. “I always am. My mother was a stickler for punctuality when we were growing up and I’ve never shaken it off.” She looked Tamsyn up and down, not bothering to hide that she was doing so. “You look incredible in that dress,” she whispered.

  Tamsyn swallowed, her body sizzling under the intensity of Maggie’s gaze.

  Her smile widening, Maggie stepped into the house and Tamsyn, her hands trembling, helped her out of her coat, hanging it in the cupboard in the hallway. When she turned back, Maggie was gazing around her at what Tamsyn knew was an impressive entryway.

  “Wow,” Maggie whispered, her eyes wide. “You’ve done all right for yourself, haven’t you?”

  Tamsyn snorted. She loved that Maggie had gone for a joke rather than politeness. “Well, you know, it’s not much but I like to call it home.”

  Maggie stuck out her tongue and Tamsyn roared with laughter. God, this woman… She looked amazing tonight—the deep red silky shirt and black dress trousers showed off every subtle curve of Maggie’s body, and she was wearing heeled boots that made her a tad taller than Tamsyn. Being shorter was a new feeling for her, and she liked it.

  “Want the tour before we eat? And would you like a glass of something while we do that?”

  “Oh, two marvellous ideas rolled into one. Love it.”

  With glasses of champagne in their hands, Tamsyn led Maggie on a strolling tour of the house. With three reception rooms, one of which doubled as a formal dining room, and four bedrooms, the house wasn’t small and the tour wasn’t short, but it was fun. Maggie seemed genuinely impressed with Tamsyn’s taste in decor—“At least you haven’t gone totally diva with gold everywhere”—and squeezed Tamsyn’s hand when she confessed to buying the fake fire in the living room based on her memories of their time in front of real ones in Norfolk.

  “Yes, those fires were wonderful, weren’t they?” Maggie’s gaze softened, and her hand held Tamsyn’s tightly. “Maybe one day we could go somewhere like that again.”

  Tamsyn swallowed down the emotion that clawed at her throat. “I’d like that. Very much.”

  Maggie kissed her then, good and proper kissed her, and it left her breathless and aching and unable to remember her own name.

  “We… There’s… Dinner?” Tamsyn stammered, aware of every cell in her body, all of them throbbing with need in the face of the expression Maggie wore. There was tenderness, and hope, and affection, and…desire. It was an intoxicating cocktail, but Tamsyn had promised herself she wouldn’t rush things, wouldn’t sprint them back to the physical side of their connection while they got used to the idea that they had much more than that. It was mighty difficult to remember that at the moment.

  Shaking her head slightly, Maggie murmured, “Sure. Dinner sounds good.”

  Over the starter of gravlax, they caught each other up on thei
r previous couple of days. Tamsyn’s dinner with the boring producer took all of two sentences to describe but Maggie still laughed in all the right places. Then it was Tamsyn’s turn to guffaw as Maggie regaled her with stories of Anna and Ellie, her precocious eight-year-old nieces.

  “The thing is, neither Ruth nor Will are up themselves, so none of us have a clue where the girls are getting this from,” Maggie said, after swallowing the last bite of her salmon. “And before you ask, no, they haven’t been sent to some posh private school. It’s as if they’ve come to this princess-like state all by themselves.”

  “I love that they think Cheddar is no longer appropriate for their lunch boxes, and only chèvre will do.”

  “I know, right? I mean, when I was eight I just thought cheese was cheese. No idea it came in so many different varieties.”

  “Oh, me neither. As you know from online stalking me.” She chuckled as Maggie tutted. “I came from a nice, ordinary background too. Hell, I didn’t even eat my first olive until I was twenty-three.”

  Maggie clutched at her chest. “Quelle horreur.”

  Tamsyn threw a small piece of bread at her, which Maggie caught more deftly than she would have imagined, before popping it in her mouth and chewing it.

  “Hey, that was mine!”

  “What’s yours is mine.” Maggie’s grin was wide and her eyes sparkled with mirth.

  “Right,” Tamsyn said, sitting back and folding her arms. “Now I see how it’s going to be.”

  “Oh yeah, get used to it.” Maggie matched Tamsyn’s pose and her grin widened.

  Tamsyn leaned forward, dropped her voice an octave, and said, “You know, I think I’ll enjoy doing just that.” She smiled as Maggie mimed sliding off her chair.

  “So not fair,” Maggie muttered. “Bringing out the Tamsyn bloody Harris seductive thingy.”

  “Thingy?” Tamsyn arched her eyebrows, trying—and failing—not to smirk.

  Maggie waved a hand. “That thing you do with your voice lowering, and your eyes narrowing, and, you know, the breathing.”

  “Breathing?” Tamsyn was now genuinely mystified.

  “Yeah, you do this thing with your breath. It’s like, all in and out and sexy.” Maggie was blushing but smiling.

  “‘In and out and sexy’. Wow, that’s, um…”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know, it makes no sense at all. But it’s a thing, okay? And you’re very good at it.”

  Tamsyn stood and walked round the table. Just before her lips met Maggie’s, she said, “I bloody well hope so.”

  The kiss was fireworks and explosions and heat. Their tongues stroked together and they both groaned. Maggie’s hands clutched at Tamsyn’s hips, and even through the fabric of her dress she could feel the heat from Maggie’s fingers and wanted that heat in other places, inside and out.

  They pulled back, panting heavily.

  “How hungry are you?” Maggie whispered raggedly.

  “Not,” Tamsyn rasped.

  She grabbed Maggie’s hands and tugged her up out of her chair. She didn’t ask, because she knew she didn’t need to. Nor did she even look back, simply pulled Maggie along with her.

  The master bedroom was cool, the way Tamsyn liked it, but when she offered to turn the heating on Maggie smiled and shook her head before walking into Tamsyn’s arms. This kiss was deep, and slow, and long. The spark that had been lit down in the kitchen flared into full-blown flames. Tamsyn was throbbing, and although aching for Maggie’s touch, she wanted to instead do everything to Maggie that she’d been fantasising about since they’d parted eight long months ago.

  She broke their kiss only to nudge Maggie back towards the bed. When they reached it, she started undoing the buttons on Maggie’s silk shirt, delighting in the texture of the material beneath her fingers, the way it shimmered as it parted to reveal Maggie’s pale skin beneath.

  “I can’t wait to touch you,” Tamsyn whispered as she pushed Maggie’s shirt back from her shoulders. It dropped to the floor in a gentle swish of sound and she gazed at Maggie’s breasts, enclosed—barely—in a lacy half-cup bra that made Tamsyn’s mouth go dry.

  “Good God,” she said, before reaching out and cupping a breast in each hand. The weight of them was just as she remembered: perfect. As was the tiny gasp that left Maggie’s throat. Using her thumbs, she eased the lace down on each cup until Maggie’s hard nipples were revealed, then she dipped her head and licked each one in turn. Maggie pushed against her, moaning.

  “More,” she murmured. “Please.”

  “Yes.” She fumbled for the zip on Maggie’s trousers and pulled it down as fast as she could once she’d finally got a decent hold on it. The trousers, too, fell to the floor, and she stepped back for a moment to allow Maggie to kick them off properly, and ease off her boots and socks with them. Then Maggie stood in her underwear, the bra still pulled down over her nipples, the matching lacy bikinis highlighting the width of Maggie’s hips. Tamsyn instantly reached out to place her hands on those hips and pull Maggie nearer.

  “You are so beautiful. And I have missed you so much.” Tamsyn’s voice was thick with the emotion that was swamping her.

  “Oh, God, I’ve missed you too.” Maggie pulled her close and kissed her, thrusting her tongue deep into Tamsyn’s mouth, her hands frantic on Tamsyn’s still-clothed body.

  “Lay down,” Tamsyn panted. “I need to touch you.”

  Maggie rapidly complied, easing herself back on top of the duvet. She looked wanton in a way that was so sexy it robbed Tamsyn of breath. Her arms were thrown up over her head, her legs slightly parted, and her eyes were heavy with need. Tamsyn scrambled out of her dress and shoes, smiling at Maggie’s appreciative groan when her own sexy black underwear was revealed. The plunge bra was one of her favourites, and she’d rather hoped one day Maggie would get to appreciate it.

  “Come here,” Maggie commanded, and Tamsyn went willingly.

  As she bent over Maggie, her legs straddling Maggie’s thighs, Maggie reached for her breasts, cupping them inside the bra, making them both moan. She tugged Tamsyn down, and laved her breasts with her tongue, licking and sucking until Tamsyn was groaning at an octave lower than she’d thought possible. She ran her fingers over Maggie’s skin, from her breasts to her belly, then over Maggie’s pussy, teasing with her nails as she dragged them up over the fabric of the bikinis. Maggie gasped, pushing her head back against the pillow and arching her back.

  “Oh, God, Tamsyn. Please.”

  Tamsyn didn’t respond, merely moved so that she could lie beside Maggie. She slipped one arm under Maggie’s shoulders and pulled her close, leaning down to kiss her, savouring the sweet taste of Maggie’s mouth, licking at her top lip before slowly dragging her tongue along her bottom lip, then plunging back into her mouth. Maggie was in constant motion beneath her, pushing her hips upwards, seeking more contact. Tamsyn obliged, running her free hand back down Maggie’s body, sliding beneath the waistband of the bikinis, and, not wanting to drag this out for either of them—there’d be plenty of time for that later—ran two fingers down through Maggie’s hot, wet, pussy, skimming her clit and finishing pressed against her entrance.

  “Oh, Jesus!” Maggie’s voice was ragged, the words shredded as they left her lips, and Tamsyn’s own pussy pounded painfully in response.

  The constriction caused by the bikinis was now a massive hindrance, and Tamsyn pulled her fingers out again, stifling Maggie’s complaints with a kiss as her hand yanked at the fabric of the underwear. Maggie immediately understood what she was trying to do and helped with her free hand, the one that was not clasped to Tamsyn’s back. Between them they wrestled the bikinis down beyond Maggie’s knees so she could kick them away, and as soon as she had done so, Tamsyn pushed Maggie’s legs apart.

  “Let me look at you,” she said as she broke their kiss.

  Maggie gazed up at her, eyes s
o heavy they were almost closed, breathing chopped and warm on Tamsyn’s face. She opened her legs even wider and Tamsyn lifted herself a few inches to gaze down at the wetness that was revealed. She turned back to kiss Maggie again, mouths ravenous, lips bruising in their passion. Running her hand up the inside of Maggie’s thigh, the warm skin like soft butter beneath her touch, she groaned into Maggie’s mouth. Then she reached Maggie’s pussy, and once again didn’t hesitate, slipping through her wet warmth, pushing a single finger deep inside her in one smooth stroke.

  Maggie cried out and clutched at Tamsyn with both hands, pulling her down, and closer, and into another searing kiss while Tamsyn worked her finger in and out, keeping her thrusts slow, yet deep. The sounds Maggie made against her mouth, the feel of her hot skin pressed up against so much of Tamsyn’s, the beautiful wet warmth that enveloped her finger, had Tamsyn on the edge of her own orgasm faster than she would have thought possible. She dragged her finger out of Maggie and ran it up between the folds of her pussy to her clit. Maggie bucked and moaned, and so she repeated the action, dipping into Maggie then dragging back up to her clit. Over and over, all the time thrusting her hips, desperate for some sort of friction that would ease the ache between her own legs. They rocked together, and Maggie got tighter and tighter around her finger until Tamsyn simply concentrated on stroking her hard clit. She used long, slow movements, back and forth, never increasing her pace, keeping it steady until Maggie arched completely off the bed and gasped into Tamsyn’s mouth, her nails digging into Tamsyn’s biceps.

  “So beautiful,” Tamsyn whispered, placing soft kisses all over Maggie’s face as she quivered in her arms. “God, so beautiful.”

  Maggie’s fingers, still gripping her biceps, twitched convulsively along with her hips. Tamsyn had stopped moving her finger, but it was still captured within the swollen folds of Maggie’s pussy and it seemed Maggie had no intention of letting it go. Tamsyn was still undulating her hips against Maggie, her own pleasure at a plateau that could simmer for a while longer before she would need Maggie to do something about it. Even as she had that thought, Maggie was opening her eyes, and smiling up at her, and moving her free hand down from Tamsyn’s arm to her hip.