I watched her out of the corner of my eye, every nerve in my body aware of her. Years of denying it had come to this. I wanted her. I always had, and I suspected I always would.
I don't even really remember what we talked about, at first. I'm sure it included things like her kid's name, where we both lived now, how our respective parents were doing, and my continued state of singlehood. She rubbed at the stiffness in her neck, the result of a 10 hour drive, and I scooted around behind her to massage the kinks out. It felt completely natural and was exactly what I would have done before college. A remote part of my brain registered how much of a turn on it was to finally touch her skin again, but I shoved it away, knowing my attraction to her was a waste of emotions.
However, all of the initial chatter was eclipsed by what she said as we finished off the pizza and beer. She said she had been divorced for a year now. No real surprise. Half of the people in this country are divorced, after all. But then she followed that information with a comment that seemed odd. "What di
d you say?" I asked, thinking I had perhaps misunderstood, or at least taken what she said out of context.
She chuckled softly, as if she expected a startled reaction. “I said that after ten years of being married and finally getting a divorce, I realized I would never be with a man again.”
I tossed this idea around in my head for a couple of seconds, trying to make sense of what she meant. I mean, for me or one of my lesbian friends, it would have meant one thing. But Kiera was completely straight, so she had to mean something else. That was the confusing part. With a nine-year-old kid, she wouldn’t exactly join the convent.
Finally, I spoke up, my hands still rubbing the taut muscles in her shoulders. “I wouldn’t say that. You are a beautiful woman with your life ahead of you. You will find Mr. Right when it’s time.”
Even from my seat behind her, I could tell Kiera was flashing that quirky smile I loved so much. Complete amusement sounded in her voice as she replied. “Well, I appreciate the compliment, and I hope to find the right person, when the time is right.” Her voice was coy now, and my heart thundered even harder in my chest. “But I realized a long time ago, even before the divorce, that I didn’t want to be with a man.”
A tremor rippled through me, and my entire world was spinning. She reached a hand up, tentatively, and I took hers in mine as she turned to meet my eyes. “Jessie, the only other person I have ever wanted to be with was…another woman.”
Little puzzle pieces suddenly fell into place. The bag she had dropped near the door. The reason she was here so late at night and not crashing at her parent’s house three miles down the road. The absence of her child in tow.
My eyes drifted to her lips, full and tempting. The tip of her tongue slipped out to moisten them, and I realized she was more nervous having this conversation than I was. But there was no way she was more excited.
The thrill of what was happening had started a low thrum of electricity running through my body. Every nerve alive, I was intensely aware of the heat of her palm against mine. I didn’t know what to say, what to ask. “I see.”
She dropped her hand and turned back forward, and I continued my work, rubbing my thumbs up the back of her neck, her soft moan sending my heart skittering out of control. “That feels so good,” she murmured, and I suddenly became aware of a certain dampness between my thighs.
My hands traveled lower down her back, and I was rewarded with another sigh of bliss. She felt so good, and I knew what she was asking, was wanting, even if she hadn’t said so in so many words. For a long moment, I hesitated, the nervous sensation that I was contemplating jumping into the ocean washing over me. Finally, I drew a deep breath and took the plunge. “You know,” I said softly, my voice low and husky. “It would be a lot easier to massage your back if you took your blouse off.”
“Okay,” she whispered, her trembling hands going to the top button. Her fingers fumbled, and I pulled her gently back against me, reaching around her, sliding my arms under hers. “Let me help you,” I whispered in her ear and I slowly eased each button undone. The edges of my arm brushed against the already hard tips of her nipples as I moved down, sending goose bumps skittering across my arms. It was almost too much for me, this slow agony of anticipation. I had wanted this for so long. I fought down the impulse to simply rip the buttons off and take her in a wild heat, giving reign to twenty years of desire. I knew that wasn’t what she needed. I wanted to show her nothing but magic.
I slid the blouse off her shoulders, my hands going back to her neck, fingers stroking and massaging. Her skin felt beautiful, warm and inviting, and I let my hands play further downward, caressing every inch. I realized her breathing was already heavy and I had no doubt her heart was pounding with anticipation and excitement, and probably a fair bit of nervousness, too.
My hands reached her lower back, and I rubbed the soft skin at the top of her jeans, letting only the tips of my fingers brush slightly under the edge. Just enough to be more than a normal caress. The sudden intimacy of it made my blood pressure shoot up, and a sudden bit of nervousness struck me, too.
I leaned forward, my hands squeezing her arms, my chin on her shoulder, my breasts pressing against her back. Her eyes closed, and a rapid heartbeat throbbed in her neck. “Kiera, have you ever done this before?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“No,” she whispered in return, but I heard no regret for what was happening in her voice.
“Have you imagined it?”
“Yes.”
“I see.” My fingers brushed her arms, the tiny hairs suddenly standing at attention. “That woman you said you wanted to be with--did you ever imagine her doing this?”
“Yes.”
I slid my arms up, slowly moving them to the soft swell of her breasts, my fingers tracing slow circles through the lacy, black cloth of her bra. “And this?”
“Yes.” Her whisper was ragged now, her breath faster.
She knew what was coming next, and the tips of her nipples grew even harder as my thumbs brushed the edges. Then my fingers made contact through the fabric, and I stroked the pebbled tips. “And did you imagine her touching you like this?”
Her only response was a whimper, and I bent my head to run my lips over her neck as my fingers began to squeeze. Her hands came up to cover mine, trembling fingers, frantic with need. But we both needed more.
My hands explored, and I moaned softly in her ear as I discovered she wore a front clasping bra. The clasp came loose easily, and my hands became the ones to tremble as I pulled the cloth away from her body and reached to stroke her soft skin.
Her breasts were perfect, fitting deliciously in my hands and feeling better than any fantasy ever had. She whimpered again as my fingers found the bare flesh of her nipples, the crinkled tips sending a thrill rushing through my body.
A sudden sense of reality exploded through me. After all these years, she was actually here, in my arms, and I was going to make love to her. I pulled her tighter against me, finding the softness of her neck, her flesh sweet and hot against my lips.