Afterglow Pt. 02

And we needed to talk. Badly. We'd slipped in important sentences here and there, hinted at significant themes, but we hadn't discussed what all this meant. Who and what we were to one another was up in the air. It had dawned on me during the drive back from Mrs. Tierney's that I couldn't do this. At least at this moment. I needed to focus on one task, and right now it was this case.

It burned my heart but it seemed like the fair, sensible thing to do on both our parts. She was great for me, absolutely, and almost every time we were together I got high by her presence and completely forgot about my misgivings. It was only when I was away that I could think rationally.

She waited at a table in the corner, reading some frayed novel. Her dress was sage green with pearled straps. She looked hot and sophisticated, which annoyed me. It would make it that much harder for me to say what I needed to.

She didn't notice me pull the chair out across from her and sit. I cleared my throat and she jumped. A smirk crossed my face.

Her eyes narrowed as she put her book away. "Funny."

"Sorry to disturb you. You looked cozy."

Her dark eyes studied my face. "You're tired."

I rubbed my temples. "Yes. This case is horrible."

The waitress came over and I ordered, only realizing then how starved I was.

"I wish I could help make it better."

I gave her a small smile. "You do."

She took my hands and studied my palms. "Did you know my grandmother was a fortune teller?"

My laugh was unexpected and loud. A self-important man typing away on his Mac at the table next to us gave me a nasty look.

"It's true. I, myself, do not possess the talent. But palms fascinate me."

"I think we need to take a break," I slowly breathed. "I like you. Really, I do. You must know that. And I think you're really good for me. You make me happy, loosen me up."

She didn't say anything. She barely reacted. Her eyes traced the embedded lines of my hand.

"But this case is draining me and I have enough going on without worrying about you, or worrying about myself, or going on a neurotic loop of wondering just what the hell I am and if I want this. It's been such a whirlwind and I've barely had a chance to catch my breath." The waitress came over my coffee and I nearly downed the entire mug with one gulp.

Olivia still said nothing.

"I think the reasonable thing to do would be to keep our distance for a while. I really want to be friends. Then maybe when all of this is over we can, like, maybe go on a date or something like a normal couple and take it slow. Slower than we have been. We rushed into this so fast and—"

"Jesus Christ, shut up," Olivia snapped.

My mouth promptly closed.

"All you're doing is whining and making excuses. You are taking this label thing far too seriously, by the way. I understand that you're busy, and am willing to give you space to work and concentrate, but this bullshit about friendship and moving too fast is more than I can stomach."

She stood and tossed some money on the table.

"You either want me, or you don't. I know it's a big change for you but I'm getting older and I lack the patience I once had. I just let it be now, and that's my advice to you. You said I make you happy. Why the fuck would you want to give that up?"

She pulled up the pearled strap of her dress and then wrapped herself in her coat. "You think way too much, Elizabeth. Take a deep breath and think about what you really want." She fished a card out of her purse and thrust it at me. "A friend of mine is having a party tonight. I was going to ask you to be my date. I'm going around 10pm. If you're not there, I guess I'll have my answer as to your intentions for our future."

She swept some of my hair back over my shoulder and kissed my forehead.

She left before I could think of anything to say.

OOOOO

The office was pretty much vacant when I got back. Roger was out on dozens of meetings and Robert thankfully took the rest of the day off. Jacqueline asked if I wanted to get a mani and pedi with her the next day and I found myself grinning at the prospect.

The rest of the day crawled by. I gathered up the best case I could to indict Dan but I knew Landon had something up his sleeve. It wasn't long before he gave me a peek.

I opened my email and there it was.

"Dear Ms. Quilty,

Hope you're enjoying this unseasonably warm winter afternoon.

I discovered your intent to subpoena my client's mother in reference to an unfortunate and private event that occurred in Mr. Tierney's past. Per Judge Frank's request that I disclose certain intentions with you in order to save time, I must inform you that I will be filing a motion to forbid this research into a Ms. Lorna Stone from being admitted into evidence. There were no formal charges pressed, nor were there any court proceedings as a result of Ms. Stone's false accusations. Consequently this information would be prejudicial and should therefore not be allowed in court.

Furthermore, I will once again file a motion to dismiss charges against my client entirely as the state has once again failed to produce substantial evidence that would induce the judge into seriously considering pursuing a criminal trial on such shaky ground.

I write to you and advise you as both a friend and colleague that I think it would be best for your department to drop the charges now, prior to our hearing date. This will spare all parties involved, both from embarrassment and trauma.

Hopefully you will take my advice to heart.

Yours,

Landon Fontaine"

I had two hours left of work, but after rereading the email for the fourth time I decided to take the rest of the day off. I calmly swung my purse over my shoulder, turned off my computer and headed for the subway.

It wasn't until I was back in my apartment that I let out the loudest, hardest scream of frustration and disillusionment. I must have screamed "fuck you!" over and over again, and I may or may not have broken my iPad during my Hulk-like tirade.

He was going to get his way, Landon Fontaine, if I didn't think of something fast. Dan Tierney would be walking through the city, his ego stroked and swollen. He'd go after Rose. He'd find a new target. Or he'd do worse. I just couldn't allow that.

But in that very moment, my head hurt. I had a blinding headache, and my neck and back ached horribly. I swallowed two aspirin and kicked off my shoes. Then I climbed into bed, not bothering to remove my dress.

Of course that was when my mind drifted to Olivia Beringer, my foreign beauty. It was true I was happy when I was with her. She made everything seem so easy. It was like a taste of luxury, of hedonism, of sophistication that I'd never known. She was simultaneously an icon of sex and an emblem of delicate femininity.

I wanted her. I wished she were with me, beside me, stroking my hair and coaxing me into relaxation. She was the first relationship I'd been involved in for years where I felt entirely content with the other person, and where I felt safe.

This fragile, slim, girly artist would tear the heart out of anyone who dared hurt me or anyone else she cared about.

And I was pushing her away.

Those were my last thoughts before drifting off into a deep nap.

OOOOO

I woke up in complete darkness. I had no idea what time it was, where I was. Nothing.

Then slowly my day came back to me and I groaned, rubbing my forehead.

It was 9:27pm. Roughly a half hour before Olivia was due at the party, or at least so she said.

I got up and took a shower, convinced by the time I came out it would be nearly 10 and therefore pointless for me to go.

But when I emerged it was only 9:39 and I had to face the fact I wanted to go, anyway.

So I slipped on a ruby dress with ankle-strapped black heels. I tied my hair up in a tall, fashionable ponytail and put on a great deal of eye makeup to really get that soulful look going on. Why the fuck not, I thought.

I hailed a cab almost immediately and was off to Olivia's friend's apartment.

When I arrived I was impressed by the size of the loft, considering we were in Midtown. This was the setting for a celebrity party; this was definitely not for a bunch of old friends gathering for drinks. Then again Olivia hadn't shared much about who the host was, and considering she was a famous artist, I wouldn't be surprised if I spotted well-known personalities around.

These were her friends. I was awestruck. It struck me how little Olivia and I knew one another, and yet how strange and deep our attraction was.

I texted Olivia that I was there, grabbed a martini and huddled in the corner, waiting for a response.

A half hour passed, and nothing.

I sent another text. Twenty more minutes passed, and I downed another martini. I was about ready to leave when I spotted her.

She wore a gold dress and she, too, had opted to wear her hair up, though her style was an elaborate bun. She was sitting next to a beautiful young blonde whose tits were out. She was gorgeous, of course, because that's just the way the world works. Olivia seemed transfixed, nodding intently at everything Barbie said. Then she threw her head back and laughed—something I thought was special to me—and touched the girl's arm.

I could read the signs. They were going to hookup tonight. Olivia had moved on, given up. She had a life to lead; it wasn't fair of me to ask her to put it on hold so I could determine whether or not I thought I could seek something deeper with her. So I could flip out every time we were intimate.

Mind made up, I put my glass down and tried to slink through people towards the door. Naturally that's when Olivia spotted me. Her face tightened, but then she turned to her friend and forced a smile. They exchanged words and Olivia got up, weaving through the crowd to get to me. Her friend watched me with blatant curiosity.

"You came," Olivia said when she was close enough for me to hear her.

"I texted you."

"Oh."

It was incredibly awkward and I itched for another drink.

"So, are you, like, seeing that girl now?" I asked, cursing my big mouth as soon as the words were out.

Olivia was confused. "What are you talking about?"

I jutted my chin over to the blonde still on the sofa. Olivia followed my gaze and then snorted. When she turned back towards me her brown eyes were lit up with amusement.

"You're jealous!"

I rubbed my shoulder. "No. No, I'm not. No."

She laughed and came closer to me. "You are. It's adorable."

"I'm not jealous!"

Olivia's mouth was suddenly an inch away from mine. "Want to prove to her that I'm yours?"

It was so silly, really, but the words struck a match inside me and without second-guessing myself I closed the gap between us and gave her the best kiss I could muster.

When we pulled away I glanced around nervously, ashamed at our PDA. No one seemed to mind. In fact it seemed like no one even noticed.

Then I looked back at her. "I'm sorry," I murmured.

When she gave me a perplexed look, I went on. "For freaking out, for pushing you away. It's just not fair to you for me to ask you to put your life on hold or invest time in somebody who might end up pulling away, deciding this isn't right for her. You should be fucking Barbie."

"Barbie?" Olivia asked. Then it dawned on her and she snickered. "Her name is Lisa, she's a good friend and straighter than an arrow. And you're a dummy. I want you. I'm willing to take a chance on you, and I promise I'm a big enough girl to know what I'm getting into."

"I'm sorry for what I said at lunch."

Olivia hushed me and stepped closer to give me another sweet kiss.

OOOOO

We left the party early. We stole kisses from the other as we walked the blocks to the subway. While we waited for our train, our kisses turned scorching.

Some people were watching—primarily men—but it didn't seem to bother Olivia, and for some reason I didn't mind it, either. Perhaps it was the martinis. Or maybe I was finally acclimating to the passion and attraction I had for this woman.

Olivia grew impatient and brought me over to a corner, behind a graffitied cement column. We were entirely out of view of spectators and it was such an erotic thrill to be so close to people and be so physically close to Olivia. I expected us to make out a little more heavily, perhaps run each other's hands beneath the other's dress. What I didn't expect was Olivia dropping down to her knees with an evil smile.

"What are you doing?" I asked, excited and breathless and fucking terrified.

She pulled up the bottom of my skirt before I could stop her and smiled when she saw my frilly black undies.

"You intended on wooing me away from the party all along, didn't you?"

"Olivia, this is so not the place for—"

But she was already sliding my panties down my legs in a slow, deliberate way that sent an electric current through my blood. Her eyes swept up to mine just as her tongue reached out for a long taste.

My head knocked back against the cement and I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to bear watching her eat me out. But she slapped my thigh and my eyes bolted open as I gaped down at her.

"Did you just smack me?"

"You'll watch me lick your pussy."

I opened my mouth to say something stupid back to her but I was stopped when her tongue promptly entered my pussy. Her tongue was warm and wet and just a little rough. God, it was amazing.

She dragged her tongue up to my clit and ran circles around it. Then her fingers found my sloppy hole and she shoved them right in. She began roughly plunging them in and I was astonished to realize that I was going to come. My hands snaked over my body, and the idea of giving myself this little bit of pleasure was heady. My fingers pinched my nipples and I was very easily becoming a trembling mess.

The train passed by us—on a different path, thank God, because if we had to wait around for the next one I'd probably have to take time to devour her and we'd never get home—and the violent sound of shrieking machine metal against metal, the squeaky engine, the sight of uneven flashing of mostly white lights, the sensation of hot wind blowing across our bodies and scattering countless discarded flyers and trash everywhere, was the perfect backdrop to one of the most exciting orgasms I'd ever had.

It was dirty and raw and primal. We were in a public, filthy place and my dress was hiked up and this woman with an amazing brain and a magical tongue was eating me out. Anyone could have been watching us. It didn't matter. It was, hands down, one of the most exciting, erotic, astounding experiences of my entire life.

Her tongue and fingers went wild against my soaked pussy until I couldn't help but embed my fingers into her bun—sadly now entirely misplaced—and pull her face into my pelvis. I humped against her mouth, focused merely on my pleasure.

The pace of her fingers picked up and I was gone, scattered to the wind in trillions of pleasure-soaked atoms. Only when they became reassembled, which was quite some time after, could I breathe again. I looked at Olivia who watched my face with alert satisfaction. She was a mess. It was the first time I saw her not completely put together and I liked it. Her makeup was smeared everywhere, and strands of hair hung messily around her face.

I think she was waiting for me to freak out, or to turn cold, or to start analyzing shit again. I surprised both of us when I stroked her waist and beamed.

"Do I have the afterglow?"

The variations of emotion that swept across her face were adorable and almost comical: wonder, elation, fear, satisfaction, doubt, lust.

"Oh, absolutely," she whispered.

I reached over and cupped the side of her face. She leant into it like a cat.

"I want you to come home with me tonight," I said.

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Yes," I said, looking around us. More people were filling into the station, probably waiting the same line as us. "Yes. Absolutely. I might not be 100% but I'm working on it, Olivia. I'm working on it so bad."

Olivia kissed my cheek. "I know, baby."

I was tired of hiding, of being out of control of things, of people trying to stomp me into the earth. This woman wanted me, and I wanted her, and I was going to enjoy myself. I was going to let myself relax for once.

"Besides," I added, "I have every intention of acting out a great fantasy of mine on you that I think you might enjoy."

Her hand brushed my nipple. "Do tell."

"Do you think I could borrow your strap-on? I'd love to fuck you tonight."

For perhaps the first time in our relationship, it seemed as though I'd stumped Olivia. Her mouth opened, and then shut. She probably didn't know what to say, and was probably afraid to say the wrong thing. So I covered her mouth with mine, and once we finally got on the rail I whispered all the things I wanted to do to her, not leaving one detail out.

And it was Olivia who blushed the whole ride home.