Everything Pales in Comparision

by Rebecca Swartz

  “No, no,” Emma quickly countered. “I know, I’m not—I’m sorry, I’m not laughing, I—” She seemed to struggle with her words, her mouth open but nothing coming out. In the end, she just said quietly, “I just like the way you don’t hold back. That’s all.”

  “Oh. Well.” Daina searched for something to say. “I’ve been told it’s not my most endearing characteristic.”

  Emma smiled ever so slightly, but said nothing. She lowered her eyes.

  Daina regarded her closely. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, thought briefly, then said, “Hey, um, I have one more question.”

  Emma looked up, met her eyes.

  Daina hesitated. She licked her lips, swallowed, before finally asking, in a low voice, “Are we okay?”

  Emma just looked at her for what seemed the longest time.

  Daina waited.

  And when Emma did answer, it was in a voice as low as Daina’s had been. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, we’re okay.”

  ***

  She sat by the pool in near darkness, the immediate area lit only by the light from the pool itself. She was alone with only her thoughts and her guitar for company.

  Daina guessed it was now sometime after ten. She had lost herself in her music, immersed herself in it, all the while longing to be with Emma, aching to be near her, but completely unsure of how to achieve that end. Things had changed between them, she had unwittingly initiated that change, and now she didn’t know how to proceed.

  She finished the song she was playing and didn’t silence the strings. Instead, she allowed the notes to fade into the night.

  “Hey.”

  She glanced over her shoulder to see Emma standing a few feet away. She wore a pair of loose-fitting casual pants and a sleeveless T-shirt. She was barefoot and had her hands in her pockets.

  “Hi,” Daina greeted her with a small smile.

  “I love hearing you play,” Emma said.

  I love hearing you speak. “Thank you.”

  Emma stood there a few moments longer, then moved toward one of the other patio chairs. She carried it over to place it diagonal to Daina, and sat down. Leaning back, crossing one leg over the other, she rested her hands in her lap.

  “Play me something,” she requested softly, in a voice Daina had never heard her use before.

  Daina studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.” And without even thinking, she began to play Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide.” The look of pleasure that stole over Emma’s face warmed her. Maybe there’s not a lot of things I can do. But I can do this.

  The song was soothing to play, soothing to sing. There was no need to embellish, no attempt to impress. She was a performer, but her audience consisted of one. Such intimacy begged subtlety, not swagger. And when she ended, allowing the notes to once more fade into the night, she looked out over the pool briefly, then shifted her glance over to Emma.

  Emma’s expression was difficult to read, but her words stilled the disquiet Daina was beginning to feel. “That was beautiful,” she said. “Thank you.”

  Daina nodded once, but kept silent. Words somehow seemed superfluous.

  Emma shifted, placing her hands on the seat of the chair, at her thighs. “I actually…came out to say goodnight,” she told Daina softly.

  Daina didn’t move, nor give any sign of her disappointment. “Oh,” she said.

  “Can you…see to the alarm?”

  “Of course.”

  Emma nodded, seemed to hesitate, then said, “So…goodnight, Daina.” So soft now it was almost a whisper.

  “Goodnight, Emma.”

  Daina watched her rise, turn and leave. She heard the screen door slide open as Emma let herself into the house, then slide shut behind her. And still Daina didn’t move. She no longer felt like playing. She no longer felt like doing anything. And so she sat, unmoving, refusing to think, refusing to feel. Until finally she roused herself out of her self-induced stupor, put her guitar back into its case and headed for the house.

  She let herself in, put her case off to the side, closed the doors, and in the semidarkness set the alarm on the lighted keypad. Guessing that Emma was already in bed, she turned, intending to make her quiet way to her own room.

  Emma was leaning against the divider wall, her arms crossed, little more than a dark form across the way. As soon as Daina saw her, her heart began to pound. They stood that way for a handful of moments, not speaking, not moving.

  Finally, Emma pushed off the wall and came toward her, and Daina could only watch her approach. And when Emma reached her, she didn’t say a word, just raised her hands to cradle Daina’s face, and kissed her.

  Daina returned the kiss, her heart in her throat, her breath stalled in her lungs. Her head swam dizzyingly.

  Emma slid one hand behind Daina’s neck, the other she slipped around Daina’s lower back, pulling her in close. Daina dropped her hands to Emma’s waist, their bodies pressed together, and at the feeling of that lean body against hers, the slim waist beneath her hands, she inhaled with a soft, audible gasp.

  The sound seemed to incite Emma. Her mouth on Daina’s became insistent, demanding, hard. Daina responded as hungrily, as a flood of heat rushed through her, filled her.

  It was Emma who broke the kiss; she buried her face into Daina’s neck and wrapped her arms around her in a fierce embrace. Daina did likewise, her forehead on Emma’s shoulder; they stood that way for some time, both of them trembling.

  Emma lifted her chin, relaxed her hold, brought her hands up to Daina’s shoulders. Her lips brushed over her ear, her breath warm, inciting shivers; her tongue circled the lobe, sending a current down her spine. Their mouths met again, gentler, calmer, and then once more at Daina’s ear, Emma whispered, “I’m not sure—”

  And Daina whispered, “I know.”

  Emma’s hold on her briefly tightened, her breath left her in a rush; leaning back, she looked into Daina’s eyes searchingly. Whatever she read there must have been answer enough, because she finally nodded, almost imperceptibly, and kissed Daina once more.

  Then, with an air of shyness, she reached for Daina’s hand, and without a word, led her down the hall.

  ***

  In Daina’s room they faced each other, the only light that of a three-quarter moon. In its almost ethereal glow, they slowly undressed each other. There was no rush; the world was on hold. Awkwardness, shyness, was overcome by kisses, touches, embraces. Garments were eased off them, slipped from them; newly exposed flesh was greeted with soft lips, lingering tongues, gentle caresses. Skin alternately shivered and burned.

  Daina was overcome with an awareness of a tenderness and sensitivity she’d never known existed in her. She pulled Emma onto the bed with her, aching to possess her, hungering to take her, but she capitulated to the fragility of the moment, of the woman, without hesitation.

  Emma’s mouth was on hers once more, soft, gentle, her tongue searching. Then she moved, to travel along the line of her jaw, to her neck, down to the curve of her shoulder. Daina turned her head, closed her eyes, allowing her hands to roam the smooth expanse of Emma’s back. Emma’s tongue, mouth and teeth dragged gently, teasingly, along the stretched skin between neck and shoulder, pulling a response from the muscles of Daina’s lower belly, sending a shiver up her spine and scalp; a sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan escaped her.

  Emma rose slightly above her, raising her head. Daina brought her hands forward to cover Emma’s breasts with her palms, felt the nipples rise beneath them and reached to take one nipple in her mouth, a taut gem, glistening with the touch of her tongue. She felt Emma’s chest expand with a sharp intake of breath. She sucked harder, flicked her tongue over the erect flesh and Emma whimpered, throwing her head back. With one hand she cupped the other breast, teasing that nipple to hardness with her thumb.

  Lowering her head back to the pillow, she slid her free hand along the curve of Emma’s side to her lower back. She positioned her thigh between Emma’s legs
and pressed against her. Emma responded with her own pressure and groaned, and the feel of heat and wetness on Daina’s thigh wrenched her insides with a blinding, aching throb.

  “Oh, dear God,” she whispered brokenly, the words catching in her throat as she pressed into her again, feeling Emma slick on her thigh, pushing against her, an inarticulate sound escaping her.

  Emma covered Daina’s mouth with her own, harder, demanding, hungry. Daina buried her fingers in her hair, then ran them down her back, wanting, needing the length of that lean body against hers. She pulled down gently, but Emma resisted.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered.

  “You won’t,” Daina said.

  Emma lowered herself, Daina brought her arms around her, their bodies conformed, melded together. Emma let all her breath out in a shaky exhalation against Daina’s neck and Daina felt a wave of intense possessiveness wash over her, through her. She tightened her hold, almost crushing Emma to her. Emma’s arms slipped behind Daina’s back, and Daina could feel Emma’s heart against her own body, beating life. She herself had never felt so alive.

  Emma moved and Daina released her to allow her to rise again, until she was poised once more above her, her body a slender, sculpted figure outlined in moonlight. She could see Emma’s gaze drop down, traveling over her body; Emma then leaned back and allowed her hands to follow the path her eyes had taken, slim, tapered fingers raising shivers, awareness, as they traversed arms, ribs, belly, hips. Down her outer thighs, then velvet soft up her inner thighs; a gentle parting, followed by a delicate upward stroke.

  Daina sighed, deep, trembling.

  Another stroke upward, then down, and then she entered her and Daina uttered a single cry of intense pleasure. Emma withdrew slightly, slipped in deeper, and Daina moaned and raised her hips to meet her, and the motions were repeated for endless moments.

  And then Emma withdrew gently, hovered over her, kissed her tenderly, and met her eyes, and the look Daina saw was hungry, almost pleading.

  Daina whispered one word: “Please.”

  Emma lowered her mouth once more to Daina’s body and her tongue traced over her skin, exploring, testing, learning; around, over, and down, her breath hot, her lips soft; everywhere she touched she awakened a response, etched in fire. Lower, to her inner thighs, her tongue silken warmth, and Daina ached almost painfully. And at the first gentle, questing stroke, Daina arched her back and cried out wordlessly.

  Emma’s tongue caressed her, searched her, playing, tasting, never dwelling, hot velvet gliding over a wet path.

  “Oh, God, please.” The words were whispered, jagged and raw, all Daina could manage.

  Emma’s tongue stroked, slipped down and inside, stroked up again, circled, massaged, and Daina trembled and writhed, beyond simple need. Until Emma’s lips enclosed, her attentions became more concentrated, her tongue flicking over and around, eliciting whimpers, a growing heat. Every muscle tensed in Daina’s body, and finally her climax rocked through her, ripping her open. Emma was merciless in her delivery and Daina cried out, shameless in her release.

  And as her body quieted, Emma slid up and held her once more in her arms.

  ***

  Daina awoke, nestled against Emma, an arm draped over Emma’s warm body. She lay quietly, listening to Emma breathe, knowing she still slept, knowing that her own ministrations had led in part to her peaceful repose.

  She hadn’t been able to stay her own hunger for Emma for long; making love to her had been one of the most singularly intense and satisfying experiences of her life.

  Afterward, the only question Emma had asked was, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  Daina shook her head. “No.”

  “I was worried. The nurse warned me that you weren’t supposed to overexert yourself.”

  “Well,” Daina stated mildly, struggling to keep the grin from her face, “unless you’d planned on chasing me around the bedroom, there was really no reason to worry.” She arched an eyebrow. “I notice that didn’t stop you, though.”

  “No, it didn’t, did it?”

  They’d dissolved into laughter, curling into each other. And slept.

  Now that Daina was awake, her hunger had reawakened. And it would not be ignored.

  She kissed Emma’s shoulder blade, slid her hand up to cup her breast, teased the nipple erect with her thumb. She felt, heard, Emma’s breath catch in her throat.

  She rose slightly, kissed Emma’s shoulder and shifted, applying gentle pressure with her arm to ease Emma over onto her back. The nipple she had teased to hardness she drew into her mouth, eliciting a helpless whimper of sound from Emma. She felt a deep, complex pull within the muscles of her own belly, and an accompanying ache even lower. She circled the erect nipple with her tongue, sucked on it. Emma uttered another one of those helpless sounds.

  Daina ran a hand over Emma’s ribs and down the flat belly, trying to divine her need through touch alone. Her mouth still at her breast, sensing, feeling rather than seeing, Emma opening herself up to her once more.

  Daina slipped inside. So wet, so damn beautiful. She hovered over her, pressed against her, deeply into her. Their bodies moved together, unchoreographed, undisciplined, yet a dance all the same.

  And when it ended, when the dance was complete, they slept once more.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The call came Saturday morning.

  Emma had it in mind that morning to do what she should have done far earlier than this: familiarize Daina with a gun. Hers, to be precise. She considered the idea over breakfast and decided it was sound. She couldn’t allow Daina to fire the weapon, since they weren’t in a safe and restricted enough area, but she saw no harm in introducing her to its finer points.

  She waited until Daina had finished doing the dishes, patiently reading the newspaper and drinking her coffee in the interim. She studied Daina, viewing her with a certain detachment, reminding herself that Daina was still largely an unknown entity. Emma found herself regularly slipping into her usual reserve, even when they were interacting closely. She seemed unable to free herself completely of her restraint.

  As she eyed Daina, she was aware of a subtle, almost constant state of low-grade arousal permeating her. It was a completely alien sensation, and in the past forty-eight hours it had left her feeling breathless and somewhat shaky on more than one occasion. Their sexual connection was incredible, thrilling, unlike any she had ever experienced. The fact that they connected both mentally and emotionally should have soothed Emma’s psyche. Instead, that level of comfort continued to elude her.

  Daina turned and looked her way. Their eyes met. Emma’s belly did a slow and complicated tumble. She ignored it.

  “Do you have any experience with guns?” she asked casually.

  Daina narrowed her eyes slightly. “No.”

  “Are you okay with them, you’re not uncomfortable with them?” Emma pressed gently.

  Lifting one shoulder in a shrug, Daina said, “As long as they’re not pointing at me, I guess I’m okay with them.”

  Emma smiled, amused as ever by Daina’s spark and attitude. She certainly didn’t lack for courage or spirit. Not for the first time, Emma found herself wishing they could have met under different circumstances. Rising to her feet, pushing the chair back, she approached Daina, leaned in and kissed her fully on the mouth. Kissing Daina was like tasting candy for the first time. The wondrous shock and pleasure of it never faded.

  “Can you meet me outside? I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

  “Sure.” Daina nodded once, unquestioning.

  In her room, Emma retrieved the Glock from the bedside table drawer, balancing its weight in her right hand. Turning her wrist slightly, she allowed her gaze to settle on the weapon and then, with a sigh, she sat on the bed. She rested the barrel of the gun in the palm of her left hand, the grip held lightly in her right. She pondered the concern currently eating away at her. While their current setup had facilitated
their coming together, they could not possibly continue in this way for much longer. The same circumstances that had brought them together could and most likely would tear them apart. The thought was an unhappy one, but the realist in her recognized the truth of it.

  Also, Daina had just left a relationship. Emma had no idea what Daina’s intentions were and it went against the very grain of her nature to dabble in anything even remotely resembling a long-term relationship, yet the prospect gave her an unexpected, and unwelcome, thrill. She wanted to be with Daina, wanted to get to know her, and while that want, that desire, was dizzying and discomfiting, it was not one she could deny.

  She knew she should be discussing all of this with Daina. But Emma’s particular skill, at least in past involvements, lay in discouraging attachments and expectations. She felt woefully ill-equipped to broach a discussion about anything resembling an ongoing relationship. She lacked the experience and the capability to bring up such an emotionally convoluted topic. And, she thought, with dismaying clarity, I don’t have the guts.

  The realization almost brought her to her knees. She was immediately engulfed in a wave of self-pity and self-loathing.

  Fuck this, she thought, reaching out to slam the drawer of the bedside table shut. Just fuck it. She turned and strode from the bedroom.

  ***

  “It’s lighter than I expected,” Daina said, holding the Glock. She turned it this way and that, studying it closely.

  Emma let her take her time to get comfortable with the weapon, with the feel of it, and the concept of it. Even people who thought they were okay with guns, once they actually held one for the first time, simply couldn’t abide it.