by A. L. Brooks
“James…left me. Three days ago. It seems he and his secretary have been getting…close…for some time now. He’s decided that his future is with her, not me, so we’re over. Just like that.”
“Oh shit,” whispered Mandy, reaching across the table to take Rebecca’s hand. The tears fell then, and Rebecca tried not to sob out loud but failed. Mandy released Rebecca’s hand long enough to dive into her bag for tissues. Rebecca took one and blew her nose. Mandy held her hand and squeezed it tight, patiently waiting for Rebecca to speak again.
“I know we hadn’t been together that long, but I thought things were going pretty good. Seems like I was always just a means for him to try and stop thinking about his secretary, only it clearly didn’t work.”
“Bastard,” muttered Mandy and grinned as Rebecca snorted. Fuck, how stupid were these men who kept leaving Rebecca? This was the third one in about seven years now after Phil the prick had practically left her at the altar ten years ago. Didn’t they realise what they were giving up? Having got so used to being in unrequited love with Rebecca all these years, Mandy found it surprisingly easy to comfort her friend through these endings, but it always stunned her how these men could walk away from someone so…wonderful.
Rebecca shook her head, her curls bouncing around her shoulders. Although streaked with grey now, they still did stupidly crazy things to Mandy’s libido. She clasped her fingers around her latte to ensure she didn’t do anything so silly as to reach out and run her hands through the richness of Rebecca’s hair. God knew she’d been tempted to do just that more times than she could count over the years.
As Rebecca blew her nose and then wiped at her tears with a fresh tissue, Mandy waited, sensing there was nothing else she really needed to say about James at this point. “Bastard” pretty much summed it up. She watched Rebecca pull herself together while she sipped her coffee.
“So, that’s me,” said Rebecca quietly after a few minutes. “What’s new with you—feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”
Mandy nodded. “Yeah, it’s been a few weeks, I think. Nothing much to tell—I’m still looking for premises for the new venture but coming up blank so far. It’s definitely one of those situations where I’ll know it when I see it, you know?”
Rebecca nodded, and smiled. “God, I miss our planning sessions for that place.” She laughed. “And if anyone had told me that a few years ago, I’d have died!”
Mandy chuckled. “Well, we can always have another session if you like—you know, go over all the details and make sure we haven’t missed anything.”
Rebecca smiled. “Do you know what, that might just cheer me up—when can I come over?”
* * *
“No, I still say you need a fourth person. Your girls are going to want a break now and then, even if it’s just to go to the toilet.”
Rebecca’s voice was firm but slightly slurred after the three—very large—glasses of red wine.
Mandy grinned. “All right, all right—point taken. Okay, I’ll factor in a fourth member of staff. I guess she could also help me out at the front desk or when I need a break too.”
“Exactly!” Rebecca waved her glass for emphasis, sloshing a dollop of wine onto the tiled floor beside her. She glanced down at it, then at the papers spread across Mandy’s table, and then up at Mandy, her sheepish expression making Mandy’s heart do that little lurch it often did when Rebecca was near. “Oops, that was a bit close.”
Mandy giggled. “Don’t worry, all of this is on my laptop, so if anything got damaged, it’s easily replaceable.”
Rebecca stood up and stumbled over to the kitchen sink to grab a cloth. Coming back to mop up the wine, she grinned at Mandy. “Have I told you lately how fucking glad I am that you are finally going through with this?”
“No, you haven’t, but I’m glad too. And I’m really glad I confided in you what I wanted to do, and you didn’t run a mile but have helped me instead.” She met Rebecca’s warm eyes and swallowed. “It really does mean a lot to me.”
“I know,” said Rebecca quietly.
Finding the courage to share her plans for a new type of club with Rebecca had been harder than Mandy could have imagined. In telling her what she planned to do, she’d had to tell her why, and the “why” involved revealing a lot more of herself than Rebecca had ever known. That night, six months ago, when they’d both had a bit too much red wine—again—had been scary and cathartic and wonderful, all in equal measures. Rebecca had always known Mandy was lesbian, obviously, but Mandy had been deliberately vague about her love life over the years. The fact that she’d never introduced Rebecca to a girlfriend had not gone unnoticed, but Mandy had led Rebecca to believe that she was simply too busy for a relationship. When Mandy finally confessed all that night, not only did Rebecca not judge Mandy’s…proclivities, she got fully on board with Mandy’s dream to open a lesbian sex club. Many planning nights later, as they liked to call them, they’d got truly excited about what this club could be.
Going over it all tonight had also helped. They hadn’t looked at the whole plan together for about a month, and the distance had let them come at it with fresh eyes.
Rebecca broke the moment between them with a big yawn. “Hey, can I crash here tonight? I’m knackered, and I don’t fancy heading out into that right now.” She pointed out of the living room windows at the rain that was hammering down.
Mandy cleared her throat, shaking off the emotion of the moment before. “Sure, guest room is made up.”
“Then I am going to crash—stick a fork in me, I’m done. See you in the morning, honey.”
“You sure? It’s early yet, only just past ten.”
“Yeah, I know, but I’ve been really tired lately and hitting the hay early most nights. Must be coming down with something.”
“Okay, babes—let me know if you need any painkillers or anything that would help.”
“Thanks, gorgeous. Goodnight.” And with a wink, Rebecca headed off to the bathroom.
* * *
“Hey, you, it’s me.” Rebecca’s voice down the phone line was unnaturally subdued, and it stirred an instant fear in Mandy’s belly that she couldn’t explain.
“Hey, yourself. What’s up?” Mandy tried to keep her fear out of her voice.
“Are you doing anything tonight?”
“Not at all. Want me to come over?”
“Please. Any time after seven, okay?”
“I’ll be there one minute after, babes.”
When Mandy hopped out of her car in front of Rebecca’s flat, she swallowed hard to tamp down the nausea that was swirling in her belly. Call it sixth sense or premonition or just plain old women’s intuition, but something was wrong.
She strode up to the main entrance and pressed the bell for Rebecca’s flat. The door release buzzed a few moments later, and she hauled open the heavy main door. She took the stairs up to Rebecca’s first floor home, and the door was already open for her when she got to it.
Rebecca stood back to let her in, not smiling and not looking Mandy in the eye.
Mandy followed her down the hallway to the living room. There was a bottle of wine and two glasses on the coffee table.
Rebecca saw where her gaze had landed. “Yeah, we might need that.”
“What’s going on?” Mandy’s voice was quiet, but it communicated her concern loud and clear.
Rebecca sat down on one side of the two-seater sofa and patted the other beside her. Mandy sat and took Rebecca’s hand in hers.
“Tell me, babes.”
Rebecca took a deep breath, head down, and swallowed before speaking. “I need…would like…you to do something for me.”
“Anything, you just name it.”
Rebecca finally looked at her, and the fear in her eyes made Mandy’s stomach heave.
“I found…a lump. At least, I think I did. Before I go to the GP, I was wondering if you…would check for me.”
Oh Jesus Christ.
“Babe
s, this isn’t something to play around with. If you think you’ve got a lump, you should get to the GP right now.” Mandy stared at Rebecca, stunned that she would waste time on something so important.
“I can’t… I don’t want to. I…want there to be a chance that I’m wrong…that it isn’t what I think. Please, I need…if there is something, I need to be able to share this with someone who cares about me, not just some GP I don’t know from Adam or Eve.”
Mandy closed her eyes briefly, her mind spinning. Oh fuck, what if there was something?
Okay, don’t panic. Even if there is, there’s nothing that says it’s cancer, is there? It could be benign. Yes, that’s exactly what it could be. Happens all the time.
She opened her eyes and met Rebecca’s again. “Okay, let’s check, shall we?”
The look of gratitude that swept over Rebecca’s face nearly brought tears to her eyes. She could do this. She had to do this—Rebecca needed her. Pushing aside the unbidden and completely inappropriate thought that she was about to see Rebecca topless for the first time, Mandy squeezed Rebecca’s hand and then stood up.
“Bedroom, yes?”
Rebecca stood and pulled Mandy into a close hug. “Thanks,” she whispered.
Mandy didn’t trust herself to speak. She gave Rebecca a squeeze and then stepped back.
They walked to the bedroom in silence. Rebecca switched on the two bedside lamps, casting the room in a warm glow. Then she sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers going to the hem of her jade-green sweater. Mandy noted absently how that sweater was one of her favourites on Rebecca. It brought out the colour of her hazel eyes and contrasted nicely with the colour of her hair. Rebecca pulled the sweater up and over her head and tossed it to the floor. She reached for her bra, and a tightness knotted in Mandy’s throat.
All the times she had fantasised about Rebecca undressing in front of her, and now she was. It was all so horribly fucking wrong. She tried to keep her breathing steady, tried not to think of Rebecca’s body as a sexual thing, but when Rebecca unhooked the bra and her—God, perfect—breasts tumbled out of the satin, it took every ounce of Mandy’s strength not to groan out loud.
Rebecca lay back on the bed and rested her arms loosely above her head. Mandy shut her eyes briefly against the sight in front of her. Under any other circumstance, she would have been panting. Willing herself to be the friend that Rebecca needed right now and not the woman who had been in love—and lust—with her for over a decade, she knelt on the bed beside Rebecca’s prone body.
Rebecca laid her hand on Mandy’s forearm. “Thank you for this,” she whispered, her gaze intense. “I know…I know this is asking a lot from you. I’m sorry to put you in this position.”
Mandy stared at her. Did Rebecca mean what she thought she meant?
Rebecca nodded slightly, reading the question that Mandy must have inadvertently shown in her facial expression.
“I know,” Rebecca whispered. “I’ve known for years. I’m sorry…I’m sorry I could never be what you needed me to be. But I’m so glad you’re my friend.”
A tear slid down Mandy’s cheek before she realised it had even formed. She closed her eyes. Fuck. She’d always known Rebecca was never going to be interested in her that way. And for Rebecca to acknowledge Mandy’s feelings now, of all times, to admit that she’d always known and had never shirked from being Mandy’s friend, while asking Mandy to lay hands on her bare breasts—oh, the fucking irony.
She nodded, opened her eyes, and took a deep breath as she gazed at Rebecca’s beautiful face. Gently, she pushed Rebecca’s arm above her head again and then rubbed her own hands lightly together to warm them. She winked at Rebecca as she did so.
“Can’t be touching you with cold hands now, can I?”
Rebecca smiled.
Carefully, slowly, Mandy examined Rebecca’s breasts. Ignoring their fullness, the wonderful heft of them in her hands, she firmly pressed and felt her way around both of them. The nipples crinkled as she moved around them.
Oh fuck. Keeping her face neutral, as her mind went reeling, she went back around them both again to be sure.
“Well?” Rebecca’s whisper trembled with fear.
Mandy swallowed hard, but her voice broke anyway. “There’s more than one.”
* * *
The funeral was lovely, if a funeral could be called such a thing. Masses of flowers, lots and lots of people, lots and lots of memories shared of a wonderful woman who had touched so many people in her too-short life. After they lowered her coffin into the ground, after everyone had departed for the wake, Mandy stood by the graveside and cried for the first time since that night in Rebecca’s flat. She had spent the last three months being strong for Rebecca, and there had been no room for her own tears. Because Rebecca’s decline had been swift, there had barely been enough time to get all her affairs in order, as the expression went, and Mandy was glad she’d been there to help Rebecca do just that.
By the time the GP had examined Rebecca, by the time the biopsies had been done, by the time they’d investigated further, the cancer had already spread beyond her lymph nodes and was out of control. They’d tried all they could—chemotherapy, radiotherapy—but all in vain. Rebecca had died early one Thursday morning in a palliative care hospice. Mandy had been with her, holding her hand, telling her how much she loved her, had always loved her, just needing to say the words out loud for once.
Rebecca had smiled weakly up at her, kissed the back of Mandy’s hand, and whispered, “Thank you.” And then she had drifted off to sleep.
A few minutes later, she was gone.
She wasn’t going to the wake. She had made a promise to Rebecca, and she was getting started on that promise right away. Some might call it callous, but it was what she and Rebecca had agreed upon, and she didn’t care what anyone else thought. The money from Rebecca’s will would be sorted out in a couple months, and added to the inheritance from her dad all those years ago, it left her financially ready to open the sex club.
She’d been astounded when Rebecca had told her it was all hers. Through the years, Rebecca had built up quite a nest egg through some property investments. Once all that was cashed in and taxes paid, there was over half a million coming Mandy’s way. Rebecca had insisted, quite forcefully, and had also made Mandy promise that she would use the money to finally start the club she—they—had been planning all this time.
She’d found the property at last and had shown photos to Rebecca, who’d wholeheartedly approved. Now she had some contractors to engage. The builders and decorators were easy. She called in people she’d used when she’d opened her first gay club in the Village seven years previously. She was selling that club on and clearing her debts. Now all she needed to work on was the specialist contractor for the BDSM room. She’d narrowed it down to a choice between two companies and had meetings booked with both of them next week.
It was really happening, at last. Oh, how she wished Rebecca was here to see it, to share it with her. She gazed down at the coffin below her, aware that the cemetery workers were politely waiting to complete their job. She blew one last kiss down at Rebecca, turned, and walked away.
Rebecca might not be with her physically, but she’d be with her in spirit every step she took.
CHAPTER 11
Manchester, present day
Stephanie stepped off the tram and smoothed out her jacket and skirt before doing up her thick woollen coat. The fine dogtooth fabric of the suit always clung so deliciously to her body, more so than any of her other work outfits. She kept this as her “first day” and special occasions suit. She wore it on the days when she needed just a bit more assurance and verve to pull off the Stephanie Jackson charm offensive that such situations demanded. She revelled in it, and she detested it.
Today was her one-month review with the financial director at the insurance company she contracted for. She would give an update on how she’d progressed, and he’d give her feedback on her performa
nce, and hopefully they’d both be in agreement with her staying on for the remainder of her six-month contract. She liked the job. The money was good, and the hours were easy compared to some other contracts she’d had in the last few years. And the first month had gone pretty well work-wise.
It was the other stuff around the job that was a total nightmare.
She sighed as she walked away from the tram stop, braced herself against the bitter November wind, and turned left towards the office. God, how was she supposed deal with the whole Lou situation? It was her own stupid fault. She’d spent years denying her attraction for women, kept it well buried, and never got herself into any awkward situations over it.
She was not gay; she just hadn’t met the right guy yet. When she did, the sex would be great, and she’d find those fireworks all her friends raved about.
But meeting Lou had challenged her in a way she wasn’t prepared for. She was drawn to her with an…intensity she couldn’t begin to explain. The first time she’d met Lou, she’d been nearly speechless. She was stunned at how attractive Lou was and alarmed at her body’s response when they simply shook hands.
It was obvious Lou was gay, and yet Stephanie couldn’t help herself. She invented more questions to go back and talk to Lou about, leading Lou on. After their meetings, she promised herself she wouldn’t do it again. And yet the next day, she’d called Lou, arranged another meeting, and talked about their mutual love of jazz. They laughed and chatted so easily it made her feel utterly at peace inside.
At night, the fantasies crept in, thoughts of Lou’s mouth on hers, Lou’s fingers on her skin, inside her… She would sit bolt upright in bed, panting and aching, and trying desperately to banish the thoughts, the feelings, the desires. The fears.
And now she had to deal with the fallout.
A few days ago, Lou had asked her out, and she’d been so stunned. She had been inexcusably rude and cruel, and Lou would probably never speak to her again. As she’d walked away from Lou, she’d risked a glance back. Lou’s head was on her desk, and she might have been crying. Stephanie had been overcome with shame.