by Harper Bliss
She waited for Kristin in front of her building, leaning against the hood of the car, her mouth curling into a smile as soon as Kristin exited the front door.
“Wow.” Kristin quirked up her eyebrows. “Is that the surprise?”
Sheryl shook her head, drew Kristin near, and kissed her full on the mouth—how was that for following her gut instinct?
Once inside the car, Kristin let her gaze roam around. “I just thought you were more of a VW van kind of girl, you know?”
“I’m not any car kind of girl, as a matter of fact. This is my boss’s car, so please treat it with the respect it deserves.”
“You should have said. We could have taken mine.” Kristin sat there beaming for some reason.
“Then I wouldn’t have been able to drive you.” This morning, Sheryl was operating fully on instinct, and she put a hand on Kristin’s thigh. She was wearing a pair of light linen trousers and Sheryl felt the warmth of her skin come through.
Kristin put her hand on Sheryl’s, and they drove in silence for a while. A silence for which Sheryl was grateful so she could focus on the road and get them out of the city and onto the highway. Once they got there, she would be more relaxed—able to rely on gut instinct even more. This whole trip was an exercise in following her intuition. The place she was taking Kristin, though on the surface not that special, held a lot of meaning for Sheryl. And for some reason, she had, out of the blue, invited Kristin there.
The cabin was a two-hour drive out of Sydney. Two hours during which Sheryl had luxuriated in Kristin’s proximity and, the more distance she put between them and the city, the surer she grew that this had been an excellent idea. She’d never taken a woman on a road trip for a second date—or third date if their quick lunch of Wednesday was to be counted. Although to Sheryl that lunch felt more like an intermezzo, a quick check-in to see if what they’d felt initially the previous weekend was still there. It had become clear very swiftly that it was, the way they’d sat giggling like schoolgirls, ignoring their food and staring into each other’s eyes.
“It could be a whirlwind romance,” Caitlin had said. “One of those when-you-know-you-know affairs.”
“We’re almost there.” Sheryl turned into a small private lane not very suited for Aimee’s Porsche, so they hobbled in their seats for a few minutes, until there it loomed. The cabin Sheryl’s grandfather had built. It now belonged to her Aunt Rita, who never came here. As far as she knew, Sheryl was the only one in her family who made use of the cabin. Most people preferred more luxury than what this particular means of accommodation offered, whereas for Sheryl, the real luxury lay in the solitude of the place.
She’d written the best parts of her master’s thesis in this cabin, longhand, papers strewn all around her in an organized chaos only she knew the order to. She would come back to do the same when it was crunch time for the dissertation she was currently working on. But this day was no day to think about her thesis—though it was always hard to not have an inkling of it rummaging around in the back of her mind. This day was all about Kristin. Perhaps it was a bold move to bring Kristin here, but it matched Sheryl’s bold feelings for her entirely.
“Wow.” As soon as the car had come to a standstill, Kristin jumped out. She stood looking at the cabin, hands on her waist, then swiveled her head to take in the surroundings, which were the real draw of the place. Rolling green hills giving way to the mountains that loomed ahead. The sound of a nearby creek, soothing to ears that were used to relentless city noise.
Kristin turned around and looked at Sheryl. “Now I’d better hope I judged you right. What with you dragging me to a remote place like this and nobody knowing where I am.”
“Maybe that cellular phone of yours has reception,” Sheryl said.
“I hope it doesn’t.” Kristin took a step closer to Sheryl and reached for her hands. “And you said staying the night was optional?”
“I guess I was trying to not have you pack a pair of pajamas.” She slanted her head and kissed Kristin on the cheek.
“Well played.” Kristin’s voice had already been reduced to a whisper. They hadn’t even made it inside the cabin yet, and already Sheryl wanted to tear her clothes off—and finish what she had almost started last Sunday.
“I’d best empty the trunk,” Sheryl said when they broke from their kiss. “Wouldn’t want the milk to go off.”
Chapter Six
Kristin sat on the cabin’s porch, overlooking the mountain, with a glass of rather excellent red wine that Sheryl had brought especially for her. Sheryl busied herself with preparing dinner. Kristin had offered to help, but Sheryl had shooed her out of what passed for the kitchen, but was basically one electrical hob and a microwave oven that looked like it could have been one of the first ones ever made.
Last Saturday, around this time, she’d been agonizing over whether to go to the LAUS party or not, and now there she sat, surrounded by the sounds of nature as dusk gathered. She heard Sheryl clatter dishes behind the screen door. The cabin was basic, but Kristin was being pampered nonetheless.
And then there was the tension in the air that had been growing at a steady pace since they’d arrived. Well, since Kristin had slid into the passenger seat of Sheryl’s borrowed car, actually. They’d kissed, groped a little, hands venturing farther at each turn, and it was all very exciting, adding to the headiness that started to take over Kristin’s mind. This was all so dream-like, so perfect as a beginning, she could hardly imagine it not ever having a happy ending.
Sheryl planted a plate of cold cuts and various cheeses on the tiny outside table, and refilled Kristin’s glass of wine gallantly. Despite the cooling atmosphere as evening fell, Kristin could feel a warmth seep into her core brought on by the care Sheryl was showing her.
“You could have at least allowed me to bring the wine,” she said before taking another sip.
“Why? Is this one not up to your standards? If not, I’ll need to have a word with Betty, who recommended it for—and I quote—an evening in the bush.” Sheryl plastered that crooked grin on her lips.
“It’s perfect,” Kristin said.
“Can I have a try?”
“Of course.” Kristin offered Sheryl her glass.
Sheryl tipped the glass to her lips and took the tiniest of sips, after which she handed it back to Kristin immediately. “Well, if it’s good enough for you.” She blinked slowly, then leaned back in her chair, which creaked a little.
“My mother used to bring me here when I was a child,” she said in a musing tone. “Used to say she would much prefer living here than in Campbelltown where I grew up.”
“I guess I can see that.” Kristin tried to look ahead as well, but she couldn’t keep her gaze from shifting to Sheryl. She didn’t want to interrupt Sheryl’s impromptu moment of contemplation—seemingly brought about by that minute sip of wine—by reaching for a hunk of bread either, despite her stomach’s insistent growl.
“For the longest time, that’s what this cabin was to me. The place where I came with my mother. My father never joined. I don’t know why. I never asked.” A pause. “There are so many things I never got to ask.”
“You, er, never see him?” Kristin couldn’t imagine never seeing her parents. Despite their busy schedules, they were firmly rooted in her life.
“Not if I can help it.” Sheryl righted her posture. “The man has been a very avid alcoholic for the past sixteen years, and he’s not what I would call a sociable, agreeable drunk.”
“Oh.” Kristin tried to absorb that piece of information as quickly as she could in order to come up with a suitable reply. She wasn’t fast enough.
“That’s the reason I don’t drink. I want to be nothing like him.” Sheryl rubbed her palms on her jeans. “Anyway, enough gloomy talk. I didn’t bring you here to tell you all about my dysfunctional family, I promise.” The smile she shot Kristin was the least convincing one Kristin had seen on her.
“I’m very sorry to hear that.�
� Kristin felt like she should say something, even though Sheryl suddenly seemed keen to end this particular conversation. “That you had to go through that.” She put down her wineglass—she had to suppress the impulse to shove it all the way to the other end of the table—and brought her hand to Sheryl’s knee.
“Just to be clear, I have absolutely no problem with you drinking, or being around people who drink. Being sober is my own, very personal choice and it should have no bearing on yours.”
“Well, given the company I work for…” Kristin didn’t know if the time was right for a half joke, but she tried anyway.
“I organize parties in my spare time. I was in charge of getting wine sponsorship. Really, it’s a non-issue. It’s not a hardship for me not to drink. I’m not a recovering addict. It’s a choice, that’s all.” Sheryl shifted in her seat. “And, ironically, if it wasn’t for wine, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you.” The palm she put on top of Kristin’s hand was soft and tender.
Kristin had many more questions but didn’t feel it was the right time to press for answers.
Sheryl hadn’t meant to go all gloomy and nostalgic, though she should have anticipated it. Coming to the cabin always had the same effect on her. That was why she usually came here alone. Either way, she wouldn’t be able to keep her family’s dark secrets from Kristin forever, and a tiny glimpse now would, hopefully, inoculate Kristin against the real darkness that lurked in all the things still left unsaid.
“Let’s eat,” she said. But this meant letting go of Kristin’s hand in hers, which she decidedly did not want to do. Though the sooner they ate, the sooner the time for other activities would roll around.
“Have you brought many women here?” Kristin inquired, after they filled their plates in silence.
“Only one.” Sheryl heaped a piece of cheese onto a hunk of bread. “You.” She hadn’t meant it to sound so severe, but it was the truth. She’d certainly contemplated bringing girls here before, but something had always come up, either on her part or the other woman’s. It was only now, with Kristin, that so easily, so suddenly, the stars had aligned and brought them here.
“I guess I’m flattered then.”
“I’m flattered that you came.”
“I didn’t exactly know I was coming here, but for the record, I would have come anyway.”
Sheryl couldn’t stifle a laugh. “Touché. I lured you here.”
“I wonder why.” Kristin slid her plate away from her, indicating she was done eating.
“There’s one thing in particular I wanted you to see. Give it another few hours, until darkness has totally fallen, and I’ll take you to a small clearing over there.” She pointed to the spot where her mother had first taken her years ago. “You don’t see stars like that in the city.”
Kristin quirked up her eyebrows and sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “Whatever will we do to kill the time until the stars show up?”
“Wash some dishes perhaps.” Sheryl didn’t know why she suddenly got cold feet. Perhaps she’d shown a bit more of herself than she’d wanted already and it left her, for now, a little too insecure to play the part she liked to play. The forward one. The guiding force.
“How about we do those later?” Kristin pushed her chair back, rose, and took the few tiny steps needed to bridge the gap between them. “I can think of something so much better to do.”
“I’m not objecting one bit.”
“Good.” Kristin bent down and kissed Sheryl fully on the lips. Her lips were so soft, so everything Sheryl had dreamed of as she sat on this very porch so often, looking out over the wonderful views, and feeling so alone—despite her many friends, acquaintances, and, even, lovers. A loneliness she never discussed, not even in her group of friends where no topic was off limits. In fact, the more taboo it was, the more you were encouraged to talk about it. Repression be damned—or in Aimee’s words: “what you resist, persists.” But for Sheryl, there was one thing she never mentioned. And it was the one thing that fed the deep, unshakable loneliness inside of her, in a way that, she sometimes believed, she had grown addicted to. The way her father had grown addicted to booze to alleviate the pain of losing her mother.
When they broke from the kiss, which was long and lingering, coming in waves, the intensity ratcheting up, then receding so they could suck some much-needed air into their lungs, Sheryl pushed herself out of her chair. She was of half a mind to curl an arm underneath Kristin’s legs, swoop her up, and carry her to the bedroom. Even though they were the same height, Kristin seemed so much lighter than her, less bulky, easy to carry around like that.
“Let’s go inside,” she said, her voice breaking a little. Instead of picking Kristin up, she slung an arm around her waist and coaxed her to the bedroom.
The drive over here, the afternoon spent together, talking and wandering about the place, throwing rocks into the creek, followed by the dinner that Sheryl had kept intentionally light, had all led to this moment. The moment they both knew they were here for. They had been waiting for it all week, ever since Sheryl had asked if she could take Kristin somewhere. Though unspoken, they’d both known this was what it had been about. Of course, things could have turned out differently instead. In the clear light of day on Wednesday, when the afterglow of the party had truly settled, they could have looked at each other with doubt in their eyes. With too much trepidation for this burgeoning madness that was overtaking them. But perhaps Caitlin had been right. Perhaps this was a love-at-almost-first-sight whirlwind romance. The kind that, perhaps, only came along once in a lifetime, and they were both feeling the importance of it. Or, perhaps, Sheryl was in her head too much. Oh, she definitely was. Where was her gut instinct when she needed it most? And why did it seem to abandon her all over again?
“Everything okay?” Kristin whispered in her ear.
“Yes.” Sheryl’s voice sounded firm in a way that was hardly appropriate for the moment.
“You suddenly seem hesitant.” Kristin came to stand in front of her.
“Trust me, I’m not.” Sheryl became more infatuated with Kristin on the spot, just because she had asked. She gave her a wide smile, one that, she hoped, would take away all the hesitation she had displayed, and took a few more steps into the bedroom. It was just a bed, and a ramshackle one at that. Two nightstands on either side that Sheryl’s grandfather had made himself. Two lamps that didn’t resemble each other perched on top, of which Sheryl had no clue if they would still work. “I’m really, really not.” She clasped her arms around Kristen’s waist and found her neck with her lips.
Kristin was already in seventh heaven. If Sheryl was having any doubts at all, she could easily guess the root of them. Kristin knew that any doubt in that bedroom wasn’t born from unwillingness to do this but from the exact opposite. Too much will. Too much desire. She felt it beat under her skin, taking over her flesh. She felt like that bottle of wine Sheryl had brought for her. Kristin had opened it thirty minutes before she was going to drink it to let it breathe. Kristin had been breathing all day. She was ready to be consumed.
She felt Sheryl’s lips on her neck, but also everywhere else. What was it about this woman that drove her so insane? She had a lot of confidence, sure, but, at times, it seemed brittle. Her blue eyes not only sparkled, but held a sadness as well. Maybe it wasn’t only the effect Sheryl had on her because she was supposedly her type, but the combination of them being together. Maybe what Kristin was feeling at this very moment—extreme arousal shot through with hope—was only possible because she stood in this room, shaking on her legs, with Sheryl. Kristin was, in that moment, convinced that no one else could ever do that to her. Not so quickly, not leaving her so assured of everything that was to follow, not only in the next minutes but in the rest of their lives. And it was foolish and silly to think that way, but Kristin didn’t give a damn. Pure lust rode up her spine, traveled through her flesh as Sheryl’s lips kept connecting with her skin. It wasn’t Kristin’s first time as such,
but it sure felt like it. Already, she was infinitely more aroused than all the times she’d been with Petra combined, and she and Sheryl were only kissing. No garments had come off. No intimate body parts had been bared.
“God, I want you,” Sheryl murmured in her ear, and it set off another round of fireworks in Kristin’s belly.
In response, Kristin started pulling her top over her head. She couldn’t bear the feeling of being constrained by clothing any longer. She wanted to get naked, show herself, have Sheryl all over her, meet her anew as a lover, find out what made her tick. They had so much to learn about each other, not least of all what they liked in bed. Not that Kristin knew this about herself. She was easily pleased: she just wanted to be touched by another woman. Well, not just any woman—the way she had wrongly presumed before. She wanted to be touched by Sheryl. And she was. Sheryl’s fingers drifted along her sides, up to her bra.
“Take it off,” Kristin heard herself plead, unsure where that sultry voice came from.
Sheryl unclasped the hooks and let Kristin’s bra fall into her hands slowly, reverently, taking her time to reveal her breasts. Kristin didn’t want her to take her time. She had a lifetime of missed sexual encounters to make up for. Thirty years was a long time to wait to be touched like this, by the right hands, by the right woman. At the same time, she wanted this to go slow, so she could luxuriate in every single second of it and never, ever forget about it.
Kristin started to unbutton Sheryl’s shirt. When the top buttons were open, she was surprised to not find a bra underneath. She hadn’t exactly been ogling Sheryl’s chest all day, but she believed she would have noticed the woman she spent an entire day with being braless. She pushed her lack of observational skills to the back of her mind and focused on what she saw. Sheryl’s breasts slowly being revealed. Kristin quickly understood the appeal of a slow revelation. Between her legs, where something had been steadily pulsing with anticipation, the rhythm had just picked up speed again.
