by Ana McKenzie
‘Hey,’ Merren said. ‘We’re going to go and sit down, okay?’
Bianca managed a tight nod, and tears flooded her eyes suddenly. Her blind, useless eyes. A sob escaped her, and she covered her face with a hand and let Merren lead her out of the room.
Then she was on her bed, Merren lifting her legs onto the mattress. Bianca curled up, tucking her knees up to her chest. She covered her face with both hands now.
‘I don’t want you to see me,’ she said.
Kind hands stroked at her hair, rhythmically, like she was a cat in need of kindness. ‘I’m so embarrassed,’ she said.
‘Don’t be,’ Merren whispered, her breath warm on Bianca’s hands. The mattress moved and a moment later, Merren was lying tightly spooned behind her. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘I had a girlfriend once, who had panic attacks. You don’t have to hide.’
Bianca groaned. ‘What happened to your girlfriend?’
Merren dropped a kiss on her shoulder and somehow, that, and her clear, calm voice, made Bianca relax a fraction.
‘She got them under control, with some help.’
But that wasn’t what Bianca found she wanted to know. ‘Why isn’t she your girlfriend anymore?’ A thought occurred to her. ‘Or is she?’ She groaned again and scrabbled for the pillow to bury her head in it.
But Merren was stroking her hair again. ‘She is not,’ she said. ‘She’s back in Japan, and the last I heard has a good job and is engaged to a really great guy.’
More threads loosened inside Bianca and she realised how nicely Merren fit beside her.
‘Her name was Amaya,’ Merren said. ‘Which means Night Rain. Isn’t that beautiful?’
It was beautiful. Bianca nodded. ‘It’s lovely.’
‘She was lovely too. Here to finish her degree. Lots of Asian students come to study here – but you’ll know that.’
Bianca licked her lips. ‘What was she studying?’
‘Mathematics,’ Merren said.
‘Mathematics?’ Bianca managed a tiny laugh. ‘I can barely remember my multiplication tables.’
‘It’s like learning another language, true.’ Her hand continued its light stroking of Bianca’s hair.
‘I can speak French,’ Bianca said. The room wasn’t swinging wildly between bright white and darkness now. Nor was her heart hammering against her ribs as though it would break them. ‘I went to Paris for six months, years ago.’
‘That must have been wonderful,’ Merren said. ‘I can speak a smattering of Korean, Chinese, and Japanese. Only the tiniest amount though. I keep thinking I should enrol to learn Modern Standard Chinese – Mandarin, properly next year, but I haven’t made up my mind. It would be useful.’
‘Chinese would be useful?’ Bianca asked. She knew Merren was talking to help her calm down, but it was working. She didn’t want her to stop yet.
‘You bet. The Chinese are doing brilliant things with implementing AI, encryption, and other fun things.’
‘AI?’
‘Artificial Intelligence.’
Bianca shuddered and Merren laughed softly in her ear and gathered her closer. It felt good. She tucked herself tighter against Merren’s body, that curved around her like it was meant to cup her in a great palm of comfort. She closed her eyes and thought about the night they’d just spent together. The way Merren had held her, hands so firm on her hips, moving in rhythm with her.
‘What are you thinking about?’
Bianca started. ‘Why do you ask?’ She could feel Merren’s smile against the nape of her neck.
‘Your breathing changed,’ Merren whispered. ‘And you gasped, ever so softly, but it was definitely a gasp. I have very good hearing.’
Bianca whimpered slightly. Merren’s voice. It was like dark molasses. Rolling over her, sticky and earthy and sweet all at the same time. She swallowed.
‘Hmm, I thought you might be thinking about that,’ Merren said, and her breath tickled the sensitive skin below Bianca’s ear. It made her gasp. Louder.
‘Thinking about what?’ she choked out, trying to tease.
Soft fingers played over the skin at her neckline, tracing little frissons of feeling across her, making her breathe out in a long, soft moan.
‘Please don’t stop doing that,’ she said, and tipped her head back against Merren’s shoulder.
Merren’s hand wandered and roamed, teased for a moment under the edge of Bianca’s shirt, then smoothed the fabric over a breast and downwards to hip. Then reappeared to trail the merest tip of a fingernail over the stretch of her neck, up and over her jaw, across her lips.
It was mesmerising, arousing, and somehow comfortable, all at the same time.
‘You make me feel safe,’ Bianca said, unaware that she had been going to say anything. She bit her lip, but the words were already said, floating free between them. They weren’t to be taken back.
Merren’s head dipped close to her ear, and her words were a whispered breath that made Bianca catch her breath.
‘You make me feel present,’ she said. ‘Alive. In awe.’ Her hand slipped – finally – under the hem of Bianca’s shirt, and Bianca gasped with the electric smoothness of Merren’s palm on her bare skin, and she knew she made another noise, a purring sound of pleasure deep in her throat, but she didn’t care. She just didn’t want Merren to stop.
Merren didn’t. Her hand traced golden trails across Bianca’s skin, cupped Bianca’s breast in her palm, teased the nipple to tightness, and Bianca moaned again.
‘That’s so good,’ she said. ‘That is so good.’
‘Yes,’ Merren said. ‘It is.’
‘Don’t stop.’
Merren didn’t answer, except to send her hand roaming again, smoothing heat over Bianca’s skin like warm butter. Behind her closed eyes, Bianca saw them together on the bed, seeing them as figures in a painting, buttery yellow in a sea of hazy light, wrapped around each other, and somewhere in there, a delicate line of blue; blue for Merren.
She caught up Merren’s other hand and pressed it to her breast, turning her head and searching with her lips for a taste of Merren’s salty-scented skin. And groaned softly against Merren’s cheek when Merren slipped a hand under the waistband of Bianca’s pants, dipped inside her knickers and draped her fingers luxuriously over Bianca’s folds, holding them there for a long, teasing moment, until at last, she slid them deep into Bianca’s wetness.
Bianca was seeing colours again, great streaks of them, and this time her eyes weren’t open, she wasn’t hallucinating, she was simply drowning in sensation and beauty, her mind colouring it in glorious rainbows. She drew in a deep breath and let the feeling of Merren’s hands on her, her fingers inside her, her mouth on her neck, pull her deeper into a well of pleasure, of deep, groaning, moving, need, delight, and growing, swelling, bursting feeling.
And it was marvellous, every gasping, gloating moment of it. Letting herself go completely, Bianca gave herself over to Merren’s touch, feeling safe, wanted, loved.
When she came at last against Merren’s hand, it was explosively, and the waves of her climax broke against her, washed through her, dragged her out in their undertow, soaked her with their salty tongues.
She washed up against Merren, gasping, her skin slicked with sweat, Merren holding her tightly against her, waiting for her to come back to shore. She opened her eyes and the colours were still there for a long moment before she blinked them away and squirmed around on the bed to face Merren, tucking a knee between hers and burying her face in Merren’s shoulder.
‘Okay?’ Merren asked, and Bianca could hear her voice, drowsy with arousal and pleasure.
She nodded, drew her head back, and sought out Merren’s lips, kissed them lingeringly, wonderingly.
‘You certainly know how to calm me down,’ she said, hearing her own voice, a throaty, happy purr.
‘That was calming you down?’ Amused happiness.
‘Well,’ Bianca amended. ‘Calm me down, then work me up.�
�� She kissed Merren again. ‘Except even that was calming. I feel so much better.’
‘Then,’ Merren said with a smile against her lips. ‘My work here is done.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
Merren rolled over onto her back, bringing Bianca with her, tucked under her wing like a baby bird. Well, she thought, perhaps not quite like a baby bird. It was a well-grown woman who had responded to her touch the way Bianca just had.
All the same, there was something fragile and touching about Bianca right at the moment, and Merren felt her own arousal settle down into contented satisfaction. She closed her eyes and smiled at the ceiling. Bianca really did remind her of the baby birds she’d rescued when they fell out of the trees when she’d been a kid. She’d always tried so hard to save every one of them, making ingenious houses for them, and getting up extra early to catch the worms to feed them. Her mother had always told her they were fledglings and were supposed to hop around on the ground for a couple weeks, making her put them back, but Merren had never quite been able to stop herself from helping. What if their parents had flown off? What then? She smiled at the memory of her childish earnestness.
‘Shall we have another go at the painting, when you’ve caught your breath?’ she said.
Bianca moved in her arms, a slight shifting of her weight, and Merren suspected she knew the answer before it came.
‘No,’ Bianca said, shaking her head against Merren’s shoulder. ‘I don’t think so. I’m tired.’ A kiss landed on Merren’s cheek. ‘Deliciously so right now but tired all the same. I think I’ll just climb under the covers and have a bit of a rest.’
Merren nodded and stroked Bianca’s arm that lay across her chest, the long artist’s fingers tucked under Merren’s side in a way that she found unexpectedly delightful. She sighed, a long, low exhale of contentment.
Lifting her head, Bianca peered at her. ‘You sighed,’ she said. ‘Are you mad at me?’
‘What?’ Merren stared at Bianca in amazement. Lifted a hand and stroked Bianca’s soft cheek. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I was sighing because I’m feeling wonderfully, marvellously happy.’
There was a pause with no answer, Bianca blinking rapidly, twisting her head around to try, Merren thought, to see her better. She caught Bianca’s chin, cupped it gently, and raised her face to kiss Bianca’s lips.
‘Everything is all right,’ she said. ‘You don’t have to worry about a thing. I absolutely think you should climb in bed and have a nap.’
Bianca laughed, but it was a shaky sound. ‘I sound like a little kitten.’
‘Most beautiful little kitten ever,’ Merren said and drew in a deep breath of satisfaction. ‘My own darling kitten.’ She stroked aside a couple of Bianca’s curls and kissed her. ‘You have a nap – god knows you didn’t sleep much last night – and I’m going to head out and get some things done that I was supposed to do yesterday.’ She pulled Bianca back down against her, reluctant to let her slip out of her arms just yet.
‘I interrupted your day yesterday, didn’t I?’ Bianca said, playing with the buttons on Merren’s shirt.
‘You did, and I was glad of it.’ She dropped a kiss on Bianca’s forehead. ‘You can call me anytime you like.’
Bianca nodded slowly, her corkscrew curls bouncing against Merren’s cheek. ‘I have your number,’ she said.
‘You do,’ Merren laughed, thinking about her stunt with the whiteboard and the plastic numbers. She thought about mentioning the iPhone again – not the watch, that was for sure – then, with an inward wince, decided against it. Being shot down had hurt. And Bianca had plenty to contend with. Merren tucked her chin in and glanced down at Bianca, noting the dark shadows that had appeared sometime during the early morning under her eyes, the weary, drawn look to her fine skin.
A nap was tempting, actually. Both of them curled up together under the blankets, one leg thrown casually over a thigh, a hand tucked under a breast. Merren closed her eyes, feeling warm and sleepy just thinking about it. Then forced them open again. It was too tempting.
‘Will you be okay, if I’m not here?’ she asked.
Bianca gave a nod. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’ll be fine, now. You don’t need to worry.’
That would have to be good enough, since Bianca was not a kitten but an adult woman, and Merren disentangled herself, somewhat reluctantly, from the drowsy Bianca, who gave a mewling little sigh and tucked herself under the covers, face creasing in a smile when Merren leant down to give her a kiss. Her eyes fluttered closed, and Merren stood there for a minute looking down at her as she fell sound asleep.
Merren had to shake herself to get moving. Everything seemed wide-awake inside her, as though someone had flipped a switch to all her nerve endings, opening them wide and flooding them with every astonishing sensation under the sun. She swallowed and forced herself to move, going looking for her bag, shoving clothes inside it as she plucked them from the floor, before she straightened and zipped it closed, and leaned over Bianca to give her a last kiss.
Before going downstairs, however, Merren stopped in to the room that was going to be the studio and looked around with some dismay. So far, Bianca hadn’t even been able to make a start on trying to paint.
It wasn’t fair. Bianca had extraordinary talent – even Merren, who admitted to herself that she knew next to nothing about art, could tell that at a glance. And now this – losing her sight. What more devastating thing could happen to a painter?
Yet, others had been through the same thing, Bianca had said. Merren made a mental note to look them up, see how it had gone for them. She gave the room one last glance and turned for the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. Before she caught up with the coding she needed to do, she decided, there was something else she wanted. Some advice she needed.
At the front door, Merren checked that Bianca’s keys were still on the little table nearby, and then that the door would lock behind her as she closed it. Bianca was quite vulnerable enough; she didn’t need the door to open under the hand of any and all who happened by.
Rita was perched on the wall again. Merren gave her a wave, glad that this time the girl didn’t hop down to chat. Merren’s mouth twitched in a smile at the memory of their conversation. The kid was pretty terrific; there was no denying that.
‘Off already?’ Rita asked, fine straight eyebrows raised. ‘When are you coming back?’
That was a good question. ‘I don’t know,’ Merren said. ‘Later, maybe. Tomorrow certainly.’ She decided as she spoke.
‘Awesome. I’ll keep an eye on her while you’re gone.’
Merren grinned and tipped the girl a wave, sliding behind the wheel of her little Nissan Leaf. The car started without a sound, and Merren pulled out of the driveway, her bag chucked haphazardly in the back seat, laptop stowed inside, and instead of turning left to head towards The Burrow and the work she needed to catch up on, Merren pressed her lips together and turning right, nipped through town, and out around the Peninsula.
‘Hallo Merren,’ her mother said, when Merren walked up the path and into the courtyard behind the kitchen. ‘You’re a bit early for lunch.’
Merren rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t only come for the food, you know. I’ve been trying to tell you that for ages.’
Her mother simply smiled infuriatingly and rose from where she’d been plucking the weeds that had misapprehended their place in her flower beds. ‘Oh, my creaking bones,’ she said with a groan and sat down on one of the wrought-iron chairs, rubbing at her knees.
Merren frowned at her mother. Olivia was getting older, she realised suddenly. It hadn’t really occurred to her before, despite the big party the three of them – Hunter, herself, and Suzette – had thrown for their mother’s fiftieth birthday a few months before. Her hair, brown like Merren’s own, had threads of silver through it. More than threads, come to that.
‘What on earth are you staring at?’ Her mother asked, a self-conscious hand going to pat her head. ‘Do I have a bug in
my hair, or something?’
Merren shook her head quickly. ‘No bug,’ she said. ‘It’s just that…’ She trailed off, realising she wouldn’t be doing either of them any favours commenting on the way her mother was aging.
‘Just that what?’ Olivia’s eyes narrowed, and Merren threw her hands up in painful defeat. She was no match for her mother. Never had been.
‘I was just noticing that you have a lot of grey in your hair.’ She winced away from her mother.
‘Ah,’ Olivia said and dropped her hand. ‘Is that all. I thought I must have picked up an earwig or two.’ She shuddered. ‘I hate earwigs.’
Merren just shook her head.
‘You seem to forget aging happens to us all, Merren,’ her mother said. ‘And if you’re going to be dating an older woman, you’d best come to good terms with that fact.’
All saliva in Merren’s mouth dried up. ‘I’m not dating an older woman,’ she said. ‘I’m not dating anyone.’
Olivia looked at her. ‘Merren,’ she warned, her voice reproving.
‘Okay,’ Merren said and sighed. ‘Perhaps I’m…’ She didn’t quite know in which terms to put it to her mother what she was doing with Bianca.
‘You don’t know what you’re doing with your older woman, do you?’
Merren shook her head. ‘I have no idea.’
The kitchen door was open, and Naomi wafted out in a kaftan so colourful Merren had to blink several times just to focus on it.
‘You look like an exotic garden in that, Grandma,’ she said, getting up to kiss Naomi on the cheek and pull out a chair for her to sit down with them.
‘What about the matching turban?’ Naomi said, putting one hand to her bound head and striking a preening posture before sitting down. ‘It’s not too much, is it?’
‘Mmm. Is this a new style you’re trying?’ Merren asked. ‘It’s, ah, rather striking.’