Susannah laughed. The sound set every nerve ending in Aya’s body buzzing with pleasure and confidence. “Well, why don’t I stop traffic long enough for us to cross the street and head to that café over there? Their mochas are a little too chocolatey for me, but with such suave company, I’m sure I shan’t mind.”
Aya swallowed and tried not to look like a kid at Christmas. “Sure. I’ve got time and coffee money.”
She wanted to slap herself. Coffee money? What’s that? Why the hell did I say that?
“A woman who both compliments me and buys the drinks. It appears my day is improving,” Susannah purred. She winked at Aya and walked towards the café. Aya was too busy trying to calm her heart to remember that she had to follow, meaning she had to do an awkward run to catch up.
When she did, she caught a whiff of Susannah’s perfume on the air surrounding her. It was potent, sophisticated, and unique. Just like Susannah herself.
Play it cool. You can do this, Lawson. Just play it cool.
“So, how long do I have before you have to get back to work?” Aya asked
“Not long. I have to attend a seminar in about,” she checked her minimalist gold watch, “about twenty minutes.”
“Damn, that’s not long.”
“You need longer than that?” Susannah asked, innuendo hinting in her facial expression and voice.
Aya puffed her chest out. “Hell yes. Anything under an hour is far too little. Especially with a woman like you.”
They locked eyes. Aya tried to stand tall, casual and suave, certainly not turning into a blob of aroused goo on the ground.
At least now she knew that Susannah was into women. If this was just heterosexual flirting for fun, Susannah was misjudging the volume of her bedroom eyes. And Aya was pretty sure Susannah didn’t misjudge social ques.
“Well then,” Susannah said casually, shattering the steamy silence. “Sounds like we’ll have to find more time. Perhaps go out for drinks. Or dinner?”
“Sure! Either works for me. Tonight?”
Susannah took out a lipstick and started to reapply it with the nonchalance of someone discussing the weather, not a hot date. “No, I have plans. I might be able to do tomorrow.”
“Yes, please.” Aya checked herself and her enthusiasm. “I mean, yeah, sure. I’m free then. It’s a quiet week for me.”
“Excellent. We’ll try for tomorrow. Right, that only leaves us to get our hot drinks and settle the basic details. Like, for example, your name.”
Aya smacked her fist into her thigh. How had she not introduced herself?
“My name’s Aya. Aya Lawson. And I didn’t give it because I’m more interested in your name. In everything about you, as a matter of fact.”
Nice. Good save. Keep it up!
“Well, I’ve never struggled to talk about that particular subject,” Susannah said with a chortle, “so we should get along well. Especially if I get my sugar and caffeine hit soon.”
“I’ll get you the biggest mocha they sell,” Aya said with what she hoped was a flirty and gentlemanly tone.
She held the door to the café open for Susannah. As the older woman walked past and inside, she brushed her hip against Aya’s crotch. It might’ve been a mistake. A perfectly placed mistake. One followed by a confident smile from wine-red lips and sparkling white teeth, which left Aya breathless.
No. Not a mistake.
Aya filled her empty lungs and followed Susannah’s swaying hips into the café, marvelling at her luck.
Chapter Seventeen
Call Charlotte
That night Gwen stood by the kitchen window, drinking water and waiting for Charlotte to arrive for their movie night. Small as her flat was, it was hugely quiet.
Maybe I should get a pet after all, she mused while watching a man and his dog try to avoid an aggressive cat on the pavement below.
Guinea pigs are cute. Furry meatloaves with tiny legs.
She finished her water and chewed an ice cube until there was a knock on the door. Gwen hurried to open it and pulled Charlotte into a hug. “Hey, you!”
“Ooh, now that’s a lovely reaction,” Charlotte said, wind knocked out of her by the hug. “Much nicer than the sulk I got from the bloke I cancelled on.”
Gwen stepped back. “Hang on, you cancelled a date for this?”
Charlotte closed the door. “Yes, but don’t worry about it. He was pretty dull, actually. I’d rather be with my best friend. Especially as you sounded upset in your texts earlier.”
Gwen ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing down the blue parts. “Yeah, it wasn’t a fun train trip home.”
“No, I gathered. I can’t believe Mocha—sorry, Susannah—said that.”
Gwen headed for the living room and collapsed on the sofa. “Me neither.”
Charlotte sat next to her. “Nor that this Aya person didn’t believe you.”
“Like I said in my texts, she has her reasons.”
“Still, sounds like you’re better off without them,” Charlotte enthused.
“I suppose so.” Gwen sat up. “Oh, did you want anything to eat or drink?”
“Not right now. We should order pizza in little while, but for now I’d like you to, for once, not change the subject.”
Bollocks. She knows me too well.
Gwen grabbed a sofa cushion and started playing with its corner. “Sorry. It’s all just so sad and frustrating. I don’t even know what I’m going to do for my new pick-me-up now that I can’t see Susannah every morning. I was actually thinking about getting a guinea pig before you arrived.”
“That’s a cool idea. However, you do have to clean their cage a lot. I remember from my little sister’s one that they poo loads.”
“Yuck.”
Charlotte scooted closer, looking nervous all of a sudden. “Hey, fancy having someone around who is house trained?”
“Huh?”
Charlotte took the pillow from Gwen and hugged it. “You know how my parents feel about me being trans.”
“Yes,” Gwen griped through gritted teeth.
“I appreciate the support but don’t take that tone, shug. They could be worse. I know of parents who’ve beaten their children, thrown them out, and even refused to let them transition into their right bodies at all.”
“Well, they can’t bloody well do that with you. You’re twenty-six.”
“They wouldn’t do that no matter what age I was. They’re trying to understand and accept. They need time, that’s all.” She brushed the cupid’s bow over her upper lip, making sure her lip gloss hadn’t smudged. “It’s just, now that I’m staying with them while my apartment building is being renovated, their discomfort is showing. They keep giving me strange looks and acting tense. It’s driving me bonkers, and I wondered—”
Gwen interrupted by putting her hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. “Say no more. You’re coming to stay with me here. I don’t have a lot of room, but this sofa pulls out to a bed, and I’d love to have you around. Who knows? Maybe your company will be my new pick-me-up thingy.”
“I think,” Charlotte said, “that having your best friend around might be a comfort and distraction, but I doubt it’ll be the buzz of exhilaration that Susannah’s presence used to offer.”
Gwen clicked her tongue. “You may have a point.”
“I’m afraid so. Anyway, I’m massively grateful for the offer and would love to move in here whenever works for you. I’ll only stay for a couple of weeks until the renovations are done.”
“Move in whenever you fancy and stay until you get tired of the small flat. Or you get tired of me.”
“Sweetie, I can’t get tired of you,” Charlotte said with warmth. “Even if you do leave books and mugs of tea everywhere.”
“You say that now, mate, but as I’ve told you, I’ve been spiralling down for a while now. You know what it’s like to be around a severely depressed person. They can be a sinkhole of despair, dragging you down with them. Especially if you have t
o put up with it 24/7. Remember how it got too much for Sarah?”
Charlotte flapped her hand in dismissal. “Don’t talk to me about Sarah. She told you she could handle it and that she wanted to marry you, then one day just walked out while whinging that it was too hard.”
“It wasn’t her fault,” Gwen mumbled. “Not everyone can handle being with a depressed person.”
“Look, it can be hard being around you when you’re in a rough patch, yes. But it’s always worth it. You’re a wonderful person and my best friend. Also, being honest,” Charlotte said with a twinkle in her eye, “I’ll handle it better than a guinea pig would. They get rashes and fevers and, um, tinnitus around depressing sinkholes, I hear.”
Gwen laughed. “Is that so? Well then, that settles it. I’m picking you over a furry meatloaf pet. Speaking of meat, less chatting and more ordering pepperoni pizzas!”
Chapter Eighteen
Charming Susannah McVey
The night of the date had arrived. Aya felt like she had ahead of big matches: every heartbeat rushing adrenaline through her system, her body humming with readiness. She wore a black, fitted shirt with white pinstripes and black skinny jeans. She wanted to show Susannah what she could get if she wanted it. She pulled at the shirt front; it was getting a little tight over her breasts. Had she gained weight or just worked her pecs a little extra?
She stood by the door to the bar in Chester that Susannah had picked. It was clearly posh. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too grand; Aya needed to be comfortable tonight.
Like a bolt out of the blue, Susannah McVey—Aya had found out her full name during their coffee date—appeared. Aya hadn’t even heard her high heels against the pavement. Maybe she’d been right when she thought this woman was a goddess; maybe she got here through some divine magic trick.
Or maybe it wasn’t magic. Maybe you missed her because you were distracted tugging your shirt over your tits, she chided herself.
“Good evening. My, you scrub up well,” Susannah said as she stopped by Aya’s side.
“S-same,” Aya stuttered.
It was the understatement of the century. Susannah wore her usual suede coat, which looked pristine despite Britain’s frequent rains.
Yet another magic trick.
The coat was open, and under it, Aya could see a dark green, velvet dress which ended high up a pair of very shapely legs in black stockings and stiletto heels. Susannah’s make-up was heavy but tasteful, and as always, she moved like a panther, all coolness and sleek femininity.
Textbook femme fatale.
Aya had suddenly developed a breathing problem again, not to mention a slight drenching of the knickers.
Susannah gave a wide grin. “Let me guess, you like my new eyeliner?”
“Yeah,” Aya croaked before clearing her throat. “Yes. I was admiring the eyeliner. Exactly. You’ll have to give me the recipe. Or, I mean the store. Where you bought it, I mean.”
Susannah sniggered. “I got it. And before you tack on another sentence, I know you were joking. You don’t strike me as the make-up type.”
“Nope, not my thing.”
“Good,” Susannah said, touching her curled, blonde locks. “I prefer my women butch.”
“I prefer my women… you,” Aya breathed, raking her gaze up and down Susannah again.
“And I prefer to be inside bars,” Susannah said, unaffected. “Not standing out here like we’re the bouncer.”
“What? Oh, yeah. Let’s go in.”
* * *
Two drinks later, cognacs for Susannah and beers for Aya, the conversation had covered Susannah’s past and how Aya stayed so fit. In short, Aya had let her date choose the topics. Not that she minded those topics; in fact, she was happy for the lack of pressure on her to open up.
Susannah put her glass down on the bar and said, “Penny for your thoughts?”
“Huh?”
“You were miles away.”
“Oh.” Aya scrambled. “I was thinking about what you told me about your university days.” She remembered an old pick-up line that fit and went for it with waggling eyebrows and tongue in cheek. “You know, I’m very sorry about not being part of your past. Maybe I can make it up to you by being part of your future?”
Susannah placed a hand on Aya’s arm and gave a smooth laugh. “That was terrible. Luckily for you,” she leaned in, giving Aya a view down her cleavage and whispered, “I liked it.”
Aya swallowed, noticing that her earlier breathing problem had returned with a vengeance. Susannah sat back and sipped what she had said was a Cognac Croizet, whatever the hell that was.
Charm and glamour shimmered off this woman like her intoxicating perfume. Aya couldn’t get enough of it. It was as addictive as it was intimidating.
To give herself something to do, Aya undid her ponytail and started gathering her hair to put it up again. Before she’d finished, Susannah grabbed the hair tie.
“Keep it down for a second. I want to see.” She surveyed Aya with dark red lips slightly parted. Heat prickled wherever Susannah’s gaze travelled. “I like it. It changes your whole face. Still, best to put your hair up. You’ll need it out of your face later.”
Every sapphic woman knew that statement meant giving oral sex, and even Aya in her arousal-drunk state began to mentally prepare and celebrate. Suddenly drinks seemed like a slow, unnecessary idea. Couldn’t they skip to the part where her hair needed to be up?
“Actually,” Susannah revised, taking another sip of the expensive cognac, “I don’t think there’ll be any of that tonight. I have an early morning budget meeting.”
“Right, sure,” Aya said, reeling in her libido.
“Naturally, that means we’ll need another date. One where you’ll certainly need to keep your hair up.”
Yes! Yes! Another date!
“Okay. Sounds good to me, shug,” Aya said, guzzling from her beer to hide her enthusiasm.
She watched Susannah, heart pounding in time with the lifting and lowering of Susannah’s enticing chest as she breathed.
Aya caught herself and marvelled at how inappropriate she was being. Something about Susannah brought out the animal in her. She looked away. If Susannah had noticed, she made no reference to it. Instead, she stood up and said, “I need to powder my nose. Be back soon.”
As soon as she’d left, Aya picked up her phone. She needed the distraction. She checked her email, then Twitter, and finally Facebook. Struck by a thought, she searched for Susannah McVey and soon found her. She hesitated a second before hitting the friend request button. Then she sat back and drank deep from her beer. Her phone screen updated, displaying that Susannah had accepted the request.
“Looks like we were online at the same time,” Susannah said, walking up behind her. “I stopped on the way back from the bathroom to check my phone. I wouldn’t want to be on my mobile when talking to a delicious bit of crumpet like you.”
While Susannah sauntered to her barstool and sat down, Aya fell for the temptation. How could she not tell the world, or at least everyone who was on Facebook, that she was on a date with such a catch? She checked in to the bar and tagged Susannah before typing in the words, “on a date with the most beautiful woman in Britain.” She had been about to write “sexiest woman in Britain,” but this sounded more respectful.
She saw Susannah glance at her screen and freaked out. Maybe she wasn’t out of the closet? Or perhaps she wouldn’t want her friends, family, and colleagues to know she was dating a younger woman.
Susannah gave a wry chuckle. “I have to admit, I like dating someone, be they man or woman, who boasts. Especially if it’s a woman, actually. Humility was foisted on us by the patriarchy. I won’t stand for anything that’s expected of me.” She paused to lean close to Aya again before adding, “I’ll also admit that my favourite brand of boasting is when a sexy, young thing brags about being in my company.”
Aya gave a sigh of relief and tucked her phone back into her jeans pocket. She qu
ite liked the fact that women tended to be humbler, feeling that men could learn from that, but she wouldn’t say that. She was in Susannah’s good books now, and that could mean a good night kiss later. She’d do just about anything for that.
Chapter Nineteen
Sleepless in Stoke
It was 2 a.m. and Gwen couldn’t sleep. She’d considered getting up to watch TV but didn’t want to wake Charlotte. Then she’d tried to read a book but couldn’t focus; the words just blurred together. Now she doodled in the notebook she kept on her bedside table. She usually created her final artwork with her Wacom Cintiq and Photoshop, but liked to sketch out ideas with old-fashioned pen and paper. She carried on for quite a while before realising what she was drawing: Janet the Jeep.
Dammit. You’re not even meant to be drawing for your own benefit. You need to work on your commissions!
She stared at the jeep. Was she subconsciously missing Aya? She reached for her phone. She wanted to look at Aya’s Facebook profile, just to check if she was okay. There was no harm in seeing what she was up to.
The first thing she saw was that Aya had checked in at a bar in Chester and tagged one Susannah McVey.
That must be Mocha’s full name, she realised.
She read the words, “on a date with the most beautiful woman in Britain,” and sighed. She was over Susannah, but it made her sad to think about Aya in a relationship with someone so fake and cold. Aya could, and should, do so much better.
Gwen put the phone down and picked up her notepad. She’d start sketching out her next commission. Drawing sapphic mermaids kissing would surely cheer her up, or at least the effort would make her tired enough to be able to sleep.
* * *
Much later Gwen woke up, or tried to wake up, and found everything fuzzy and somehow… weird. Why was she so uncomfortable? She blinked a few times against the light and the incorrect shapes of her surroundings. This wasn’t her bedroom. No. This was the kitchen. Why was she slumped on the kitchen floor? And why did her hand hurt?
Pining & Loving Page 9