Me and Her (Always Her, Book 2): Lesbian Romance Page 11

  “I’m sure Elise really appreciates you being there,” Alyssa said.

  “I’m pretty sure she does,” I said. “I was in two minds about whether to come, in case I was intruding, or bringing my ego into the situation, but both her sister and her mom told me privately that they were really glad I was around. It’s her dad’s memorial today. They’re going to visit the grave, and have lunch with some relatives, who’ve also come from out of town. But then tomorrow, I’m hoping she’ll have a little free time to spend with me. I’ve got plans for her.”

  “What are they?” Alyssa said.

  “Just something that’ll remind us both of our teenage years,” I said, breaking into a grin.

  When Alyssa and I had finished chatting, I went back to gardening, and worked till nightfall, enjoying the physical labor and the sense of having accomplished something. Thoughts of Elise ran through my mind all day. I kept wondering how she was coping, and sent one message that she replied to and then another one saying to call anytime she wanted, but I didn’t want to push myself on her at such an emotionally difficult time.

  Late, later than the previous night, when I was drowsing on the sofa watching a movie, Elise called, asking if I wanted to come over.

  I drove to Ricardo’s place, and she opened the door. She was already in her nightclothes, and she looked pale and bruised, the whites of her eyes pink-tinged. She hugged me briefly then led me upstairs.

  The hard floors of the house gave the impression that sound could travel a long way, so I delayed asking about the day until we were safely in her room. She was drinking whisky neat, and she poured me a glass. She sat on the bed and I sat down next to her. In the lamplight, the skin beneath her eyes seemed translucent, mauve in the inner corners.

  “It was a hard day,” she said. “It’s weird how, day to day, I’ve become accustomed to dad not being around anymore, but, today, it all just washed over me again. I knew it would, which is why I didn’t want to come back.” I pulled her close. She clung to me, fingertips pressing into my back. “It was nice having lunch, seeing my grandma, chatting to relatives I hardly knew. But I didn’t want nice, I wanted my dad back.” She paused, wiping away a tear. “Did I ever tell you how he died?”

  “No,” I said. I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”

  “He fell off the roof, while fixing a satellite dish. In the rain. Can you believe it? That was dad all over, doing something valiant, yet misguided. It was obviously a really dangerous thing to do, and I’m so mad at him for getting himself killed like that. His brother was making a joke about it today – he’s always one for gallows humor – and half of me was laughing too, but the other half was mad at him all over again. How could you throw your life away like that? He probably had no idea what was happening either. Alive one minute, and gone the next.” I stroked her hair.

  “Plenty of people have thrown their lives away for less. All those people who have car crashes while drink driving and never even make it out of their teens. People whose lives get destroyed by drugs. I know this probably isn’t much comfort to you, but you’re not alone.”

  “I just feel like I can’t grieve properly, because his death wasn’t tragic, it was dumb.” I pulled back and looked into her eyes.

  “It was tragic for you, and for the other people who loved him. Which is what counts.”

  “You’re right,” she said, and kissed me. “You always know the right thing to say.” Then she yawned hugely, like a child.

  “Shall we go to sleep, little one? And maybe if you’re free, we can do something nice tomorrow?”

  “I’d love that,” she said, lying down and turning onto her side. When she closed her eyes she suddenly looked far younger than her years. I snuggled in beside her, and she nuzzled her face into my neck.

  *

  I awoke to perfect silence, the kind you never experience when you’re in the city. Before I’d even opened my eyes, I knew I’d had a long, deep sleep. My phone confirmed it’d been eight hours. I got up quietly and folded back the wooden shutters, trying to prevent them from clunking, but Elise stirred anyway. Her eyelids fluttered open and she shaded her eyes with her hand and looked at me.

  “Morning, baby,” I said.

  “Morning!” A beautiful smile lit up her face. “I can’t see you, Jack. You look like an angel with the light behind you.” I bounded over to the bed and jumped on top of her.

  “Is that better?” She groaned, rubbing at her face.

  “I love your energy in the morning,” she said. “How can you be so wide awake when you’ve only just opened your eyes?”

  “Am I too much?”

  “No, I mean it. I just don’t share it.” She laughed.

  “How did you sleep?” I asked.

  “Amazingly heavily. I don’t think I stirred once.” I glanced at the unfinished glass of whisky on the nightstand.

  “That might have had something to do with it,” I said, kissing her exposed shoulder. “And how are you feeling?”

  “Better, I think. Not so broken.”

  “That’s good, baby,” I said. I lay down, spooning her, and planted kisses on her cheek. “I was thinking – if you wanted – we could make breakfast for the others? I could go out and get food while you shower, and wake up. Or wake up and shower. Whichever order works for you?”

  “Ok, deal,” she said. Leaving her with a kiss on the cheek, I bounced out of the room, eager to be active. I felt like a dog in the mornings, needing to go and let off some steam first thing, before I could be calm and do other things.

  By the time I was back with a bag of groceries, I was surprised to see that Elise was up and ready, combing out her wet hair. We went down to the kitchen together, and made eggs royale with a side of spinach, coffee and orange juice for everyone. Ricardo’s handsome face was a picture of delight when he came downstairs.

  “As much as I like cooking dinner for other people, having breakfast made for me is an incredible treat!” he said.

  We all chatted easily during breakfast, even Elise, who usually spoke strictly in mumbles until she’d finished her first meal of the day. Afterwards, Ricardo excused himself to his study, where he planned to work on his latest score.

  “What are your plans for the day, Jack?” Elise and Melissa’s mom asked.

  “Nothing so far,” I said carefully. “Just taking it easy, I guess.”

  “Perfect!” Melissa said. “Mom and I were thinking about going clothes shopping, but, knowing how much Elise hates it, we weren’t sure whether to suggest it.”

  “Yes, that’s a great idea,” Elise butted in. “I’ll hang out with Jack while you guys get your retail therapy.” My spirits leapt. I was really hoping I’d get to spend the whole day with Elise, but didn’t want to be selfish enough to suggest it.

  Melissa and Angie dropped us off downtown before they headed to the malls. Elise and I stood in the town’s compact central square looking around at the morning activity. Stores were opening up, people were walking their dogs. Some people were still heading to work in suits and ties.

  “What do you want to do?” I asked. She looked at me, her expression guileless, then drew her lower lip between her teeth.

  “I want to do all the things I used to dream about doing with you,” she said.

  Her words filled me with elation, like that moment when you put your pen down at the end of your final exam, or those rare, beautiful days when you wake up thinking it’s Monday, but it’s still Sunday. Suddenly the town existed just for us, and time was infinite. She turned her head, looking around the square.

  “Let’s have coffee.” She pointed to a café on the corner of the square. “This used to be my favorite place.”

  We walked over to the café, and pulled up chairs at a table in the sun, near to the lawn that occupied a corner of the square. It was early enough that the dampness of dew rose up from the grass, a delicate, evocative scent. The waitress brought us lattes, and we stirred them with long spoons, looking in
to each others’ eyes.

  “I used to come here with the girls, and we’d make out we were in a square in Europe, in a really old town – Rome or Florence, or Barcelona. We’d turn up in sunglasses, like Audrey Hepburn, and order cappuccinos and talk about our plans to travel around Europe someday.”

  “That sounds nice!” I said. “It seems so romantic, doesn’t it? I’d love to be in one of those squares right now. Little cafes everywhere, and a church on the corner, with kids playing on the steps. After coffee, we’d go for ice cream. Then we’d wander around some ruins. We’d have pasta for lunch, at a little trattoria. And then we’d go back to our hotel – a little pension with a rickety elevator – and make love all afternoon, with the door to the balcony wide open.” Elise laughed.

  “That’s a bit more developed than our daydreams,” she said. “I don’t think we got any further than thinking about shopping and staring at Italian men. Well, I was thinking about staring at Italian women, but there you go.”

  “I guess we should add Italy to our list of places to visit on our camper van trip,” I said.

  “You’ve been before, right?” she said.

  “Yes – we went and visited family once, a long time ago, but I think it’s one of those places where you miss out on a lot of the good stuff when you’re a kid.”

  Elise looked thoughtful.

  “I came here by myself once,” she said. “It was in the days when I was totally crushed out on you. I brought a book with me and sat here, not reading it at all, but imagining we were here together, and dreaming about the conversations we’d have.” I smiled at her, almost too affected to speak.

  “And what were those conversations?” I asked.

  “Oh – ” she reached out for my hand and played with the ring on my finger. “I think we would’ve talked about our plans for the future, and our feelings for each other.” The beginnings of a blush warmed her cheeks.

  “Pretty much like we’re doing now,” I said. Her eyes met mine, and then flickered down, too shy to hold my gaze. That thing I wanted to say popped into my mind again, and my heart began to beat very fast.

  “Jack,” she said.

  “Yes?”

  “I want to say thank you for coming here to look after me. I’m so touched by it. It was so caring, and generous.”

  “Of course!” I said. “I’d do anything to make things easier for you if I could.”

  “It made me feel a lot less alone in the world. I know I’ve always got Melissa, but you know what I mean,” she continued.

  “I do,” I said. My heartbeat slowed, and, caught between relief and disappointment, I put my words back into a little box for now.

  Elise leaned forward and touched her lips to mine. She drew back an inch and regarded me, her eyes serious.

  “You know, this town isn’t my home anymore,” she said. “The people I went to school with are no longer close friends. I’m not going to hide myself from anybody.” With that, she placed her hand on the back of my neck and pulled me close, drawing me into a long, tender, searching kiss, that made my skin tingle.

  It seemed like minutes before we came up for air. An old couple stared at us as they trundled past, hand in hand, but no-one else seemed to be paying us any attention. The sun had moved high in the sky now, casting the square in a brilliant, shadowless light.

  “Wow, I think that was actually the consummation of my teenage fantasies,” Elise said, and she had never looked more beautiful. Her hair was pale gold, and her eyes the clearest green, like a canopy of leaves beneath a flawless sky. I could see the freckles scattered across her nose, which only came out in bright light, and the fine grain of her skin. I kissed one cheek, and the other, and then her full, raspberry-pink lips again. I still didn’t fully believe she was mine. She was too perfect, too immaculate. But, at the same time, she wasn’t at all. She’d had a far harder time of life than I had. And that was what was so fascinating about her. I brought her hand to my lips and kissed it.

  “I want to spend all day in bed with you, kissing you all over,” I said.

  “That can be arranged very soon,” she said, laughing.

  We finished our coffees and paid the bill.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “I want to go to the bookstore, where I used to hang out and read lesbian erotica,” she said, a cheeky expression on her face.

  “Oh, really?” I replied. As she stood up from the table, I caught her around the waist and planted a kiss on her cheek, and she giggled in delight. We started to walk in the direction of the bookstore.

  “Brave enough to hold my hand?” I asked, holding it out to her. She looked at my upturned palm, and hesitated. “It’s ok, I won’t be offended.” She stretched her fingers towards mine, the tips dancing on my palm, before they gradually came into my grasp.

  “Of course!” she said, and squeezed tight.

  “So, tell me more about your bookstore experiences,” I said.

  “Well, I used to grab a few mainstream books as my cover. Then I’d sneak up to the LGB shelf, grab a few books really quickly, and go hide in the furthest corner of the store and rifle through them, one eye on the store in case anyone I knew saw me and came over.”

  “And did they?” She shook her head.

  “Nope, never. I used to go up to the top floor, you know, where all those dull finance books were, so I thought I’d be safe from people at high school.”

  “And what happened when you read these books?” Her eyes sparkled.

  “I’d read one story after another, and I’d get really – heated – by all those dirty scenarios.”

  “And then?”

  “Then, I’d usually go into the restroom and satisfy myself,” she said, deadpan, as if she was talking about going to the grocery store and picking out some ingredients on a shopping list.

  “No way!” I exclaimed. “That’s so dirty. And you were how old?”

  “I don’t know. 15 or something?” I let out a shout of laughter.

  “You were way more sexually advanced than I was. At that age, my fantasies were all about playing soccer.”

  We’d crossed the town into the commercial district, and we walked into the bookstore.

  “Come on,” she said happily. “I won’t be so nervous looking at the bookshelf this time!” She led me over to the LGB section, and began investigating the shelves. I looked at the books too, but I didn’t know where to start. Reading erotica had never been my thing. I kept glancing at Elise. Her revelation had made me so insanely hot. I wished badly that we weren’t out in public at that moment.

  She’d picked out four books, and I had none, too occupied by the fantasies tumbling through my mind.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” she said, and I followed her up to the top floor, my eyes unavoidably drawn to the hem of her skirt, rising high on the backs of her slender, tanned thighs.

  “It hasn’t changed at all!” she said, and flung herself onto a beanbag. I sat on the one closest to her, and looked through the stack of anthologies she’d gathered. I picked out a ‘Best of’ collection, and she picked another one, and immediately began reading. In moments she seemed to be engrossed. I flipped through a story, but my attention was on her: on the way she twirled a strand of hair around her finger, the way her teeth toyed with her lower lip, which was becoming increasingly red, the way her perky short skirt was riding up high. The way she was paying me no attention at all. By now, I wasn’t just hot, I was smoldering. I longed to push her down on the beanbag, push her skirt up, move her panties aside, and force my fingers inside her, before she knew what was happening. Or take her up against the bookshelf. I looked around for cameras. There were at least two focused in our direction. She stirred, crossing and uncrossing her legs, revealing a flash of rose-colored lace.

  “Are you wet?” I demanded.

  “Huh?” she looked up, surprised, suddenly making me think of a sexy librarian, which inflamed me even more.

  “I said, are you wet?”

/>   “Maybe,” she said, with a small smile.

  “The restroom is close by, right?”

  “Yeah, it’s just on the other side of the bookshelf.”

  “Get up and go there. If there’s any problem with it, come right back. Otherwise, wait for me,” I said. My tone startled her, and her eyebrows drew together, but, at the same time, I saw the quick dilation of her pupils. She closed her book and put it down, got to her feet, and, without a backward glance at me, walked to the restroom. I waited two minutes before following her.

  I tapped on the door and she opened it, face flushed and eyes wide with excitement. It was an individual room with a sink and a skylight, and the walls were covered with white tiles. I locked the door, and, a second later, I crushed my mouth on hers, pressing her against the wall. I groped her breasts through her tanktop, before sliding my hands underneath it, unhooking her bra and feeling their full, firmness, unencumbered. She gasped as I pinched her sweet, hard nipples, knowing how she liked that pleasure/pain sensation. Her tongue slid deep into my mouth, dancing around mine. I lifted her tanktop right up, and sucked each nipple hard, as my hand slid up her thighs, and pressed against the hot, damp crotch of her panties. She was very wet. I hooked the panties with my index finger, and pushed them aside, just as I’d been imagining. My hand was already drenched by her wetness, and I plunged all four fingers deep inside her, in a single movement. She gasped, but I could tell she’d stifled the sound, and, for that, I was relieved. I straightened up and kissed her again. Her thighs slackened, giving me more space, and I eased my hand out, and in again.

  “Is this what you used to think about?” I hissed in her ear, my hand deep inside, but not moving.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice taut.

  “Tell me exactly what you were thinking,” I demanded. She hesitated, and I drew my hand almost all the way out her.

  “Don’t stop!” she whispered.

  “Then tell me.”

  “This one time, I was reading a story about a girl who was followed into a bathroom cubicle by three or four other women, and it was really hot. But then, like I always did, I started to think about you. I imagined being in a bathroom with you, and you being really rough with me, like we were strangers.” A bolt of heat shot through my clit, and I pressed myself against her hip.