Something burst inside June’s chest. Something wonderful, a feeling of
pure joy. She closed the distance between them, not bothering to pick up her
clothes or shoes, and took Arabella’s hands in hers. She set them at her
waist, then used her own to undo the zipper on her skirt and peel it down
her thighs. She shimmied out of her drenched panties, depositing them on
her skirt on the floor. Arabella nearly hiccupped.
“Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, I see.”
“I’d like to undress you now,” June whispered back. “If you’d like to
show me the way to the bedroom?”
Arabella nodded. She clasped June’s hand and led her out of the kitchen.
It was funny, June thought, that she just now noticed the plants on top the
counter near the window. She wasn’t a plant person. She didn’t even know
what kind they were. Well, one was a cactus. She knew that much because
it looked prickly.
Arabella led her down the hall to a small bedroom. She flicked on the
light and winced as the twin bulbs in the old square glass shade plunged the
room into harsh brightness.
“That’s not—I mean, it’s not that I’m intimidated by the light or that I’m
so shy that I won’t be able to, uh, never mind. I think the lamp is just a lot
less harsh on the eyes.” She dropped June’s hand to walk over to the
nightstand and flip on a stained-glass lamp with a huge shade. The light was
soft and muted through the prism of so many different shades of colored
glass.
June was still standing by the door, and she switched off the light. She
noticed the furniture in the room in passing. A queen-size bed with an
upholstered black headboard with little diamond buttons, an expensive,
heavy-looking black dresser and a matching nightstand. The furniture was
expensive and tasteful, like the table and chairs in the kitchen.
“Did I say that before Dad lost the house, we managed to move out the
furniture? This is the stuff we either needed or Mom couldn’t bear to sell.”