Krissy, sitting next to her, also with a glass of wine, nudged her.
“So you can be closer to me!” she said.
Ainsley smiled. Krissy was close now; just down the street and around the corner, in fact. Becca wasn’t too far away either. It was going to be great being so close to her good friends. It made the appeal of Carlsbad that much stronger.
“So, where’s your wife?” Krissy asked after another sip of wine.
“Shut up. Besides, I thought you were my wife.”
“Nah,” Krissy said. “The single life for me, please. There are just too many beautiful and gay women in Southern California for me to tie myself down to just one.” She took another sip. “Perhaps if I lived in Minnesota or one of those Dakota states where the options are severely limited. I’d probably marry the first lesbian who shaved her legs.”
Ainsley laughed. Krissy was the definition of the confirmed bachelorette and it was going to be interesting being in such close proximity to her friend and seeing the veritable cavalcade of women coming in and out of Krissy’s life.
“Anyway, I’ll see Rachel later,” Ainsley answered.
And, god, was she looking forward to it! She and Rachel hadn’t seen each other since Tuesday because of a combination of Ainsley being busy packing or being called into the hospital for one thing or another. Meanwhile, Rachel had also been busy either showing houses in the evenings or needing to be present for home inspections or even—on Thursday night—needing to drive all the way to San Luis Rey to deliver keys to a house.
Ainsley missed her. A lot. Like a lot. And the “informational” texts Rachel had been sending each morning since Tuesday, showing Ainsley which underwear Rachel had chosen to wear that day, were only making things worse. Especially yesterday’s pic. Good lord!
It had arrived yesterday morning while Ainsley was in her office going over a patient’s history on her laptop, prior to prepping for surgery.
FYI (the text began, like all the others)…today’s choice...
Ainsley had gasped at the close-up of Rachel’s breasts in a wire-free mesh bralette through which Rachel’s small, dark nipples were clearly visible. It had been too much for Ainsley. After three days of not even being able to kiss Rachel, a pic like that had suddenly sent her mind spinning in all sorts of lascivious directions—not ideal considering she had had a peripheral vascular bypass to perform.
So, once she had told Kyle, her assistant, that she didn’t want to be disturbed until she had gone over all the patient’s records, she unfastened her slacks, slid her hand inside her panties and began by slowly edging her clit while staring at the image in Rachel’s text message, thinking about how those nipples felt in her mouth, the way they got hard so quickly, lengthening when they did so. She thought of that beyond-sexy way Rachel moaned when they were sucked and the way Rachel grunted when they were bitten with just the right amount of force.
When Ainsley had stopped edging and attacked her clit with the pad of her middle finger, she went over the precipice fast, biting her bottom lip as she came, trying hard not to breathe too loudly or make any other sounds lest Kyle hear as her pussy unleashed its pent-up needs.
“By the way,” Krissy said, interrupting Ainsley’s musings, “I think Charlotte is pretty miserable.”
“You mean more than usual?” Ainsley quipped.
“Yeah,” Krissy stated. “She and I spent some time talking in the parking lot after volleyball on Sunday. She and Georgia are not happy at all.”
Ainsley looked at her friend.
“Seriously?” Ainsley really had no idea. Charlotte had made no mention of her marriage being on the rocks. “I didn’t know.”
Krissy looked at her and shrugged.
“She probably didn’t want to intrude on your newfound happiness with Rachel.”
Ainsley’s mouth dropped open.
“That’s ridiculous!” she exclaimed.
Again Krissy shrugged.
“We’re women, Ains,” she said. “Anyway, I thought you should know.”
Ainsley sighed, resolving to call Charlotte as soon as possible. She hoped her friend was okay and she made a promise to herself to dedicate more time to Charlotte, even if it was just phone calls. She hated that it always seemed to be a default by-product of starting a new relationship that existing friendships got pushed to the back-burner for a while. Charlotte may be a cynical, glass-half-empty person prone to complaining about sunny days or rainbows, but she meant a lot to Ainsley.
“Thanks for telling me,” Ainsley said. A moment later, her phone started ringing with Rachel’s ringtone.
“Hey,” Ainsley answered.
“Hey! You busy?”