by Clare Lydon
“Mind my face!” Laura shouted as faces crushed hers and arms squeezed her body. Nobody was listening. “Face, people, face!”
Vic hugged Laura’s shoulders and tapped her head sympathetically.
Stu and Darren tacked on either side, flankers in their own right. Stu hugged someone’s body, someone’s arm, gripped someone’s waist. It was a mass of female flesh, which was terribly novel in their world. After around 20 seconds they came up for air, Stevie in particular having played the role of second row was looking rather flustered.
“Who was it squashing my face? Seriously…” Laura moaned, rubbing it tentatively. Everybody ignored her again.
“So when did you decide this? In between wanting to kill each other this morning? Over the disgusting hospital goat’s cheese coffee? Or was it the hospital strip lights that made you come over all romantic?” Geri asked.
Tash ran her hands through her ginger hair and leant back in her seat as the rest all returned to theirs.
“We were just sitting out in the garden, watching the sun fade and we just got to talking,” she began. “And then Laura just… came out with it.” She leant across and kissed her fiancée on the lips. She tasted of promise, of their future.
“Even after she beat you up. You must love her,” Darren told Laura.
He was rewarded with the look that comment deserved.
“Did you get down on one knee?” Vic asked.
Laura nodded. “Of course. Gotta do it properly.”
“And have you got a ring?”
This time Laura shook her head. “We’ll go shopping for some in Southend – get a discount down one of the pawn shops.”
“She’s thought of everything, my darling wife-to-be,” Tash smiled, drinking some wine.
“Well this calls for something fizzy – but we don’t have any do we?” Stu asked, looking at Darren.
“I think there’s a bottle left for just such an occasion.” Darren got up and walked to the fridge, before prising a bottle from the door and raising it high above his head in triumph.
“Thank your lucky stars that Kat doesn’t do Prosecco. You shall go to the ball, Cinderellas,” he said, bowing as he returned to the table.
“Thanks, Darren.” Tash smiled and nudged Laura, who simply glared slightly less at him.
Stu and Vic got Champagne flutes and poured the Prosecco before Stevie raised her glass.
“Toast number two!” She looked around the table. “To Laura and Tash – congratulations! May you have many happy years together. Cheers!”
Hospital Grey
Kat opened her eyes. Where the hell am I? Cream walls, white blinds, rough sheets.
Who have I gone home with this time? And where’s Abby?
She swallowed and winced. Her throat was on fire. She moved her head to the right and saw a white curtain – a hospital white curtain.
Of course. I’m in hospital. And there is no Abby.
She shuffled higher up the bed – her body was in a world of pain, from head to toe.
So this is what it felt like to have nearly died. She didn’t recommend it.
Kat sat up further in the bed – somebody was in pain nearby. She had no idea how many people she was sleeping near, but it felt uncomfortably public having to close her eyes and drift away.
She opened the chipped wooden side cabinet beside her bed and found her mobile phone inside. She pressed the On button and stuffed it under her pillow to avoid the start-up sound waking anyone up. She had no idea what time it was and couldn’t see beyond her curtains to check.
Right now, reality was breathing in, standing still.
Kat brought her phone out from the covers and the bright glare of its screen made her wince, the wrinkles around her eyes bunching up. 9.23pm. Not late at all. The others would be tucking into their last-night curry, getting on without her, without Abby.
She had no texts, just a few new emails. The first was from The Guardian, attempting to make her subscribe to its online format. At least The Guardian cared.
The second was from a company she’d once bought her brother-in-law a tie from. He’d been dead two years.
The third was from Sainsbury’s, informing her she had a healthy balance of £64.30 on her Nectar card. I can buy a case of wine with that. Or maybe not.
Kat hadn’t been trying to kill herself. At least, she was fairly sure she hadn’t. No, she’d just been feeling sorry for herself and got carried away. It was a Bank Holiday, after all, no work tomorrow. Weren’t millions of people up and down the country doing exactly the same thing, just not on such a grand scale?
She read Abby’s texts again, typed her a short one back saying she hoped she got home okay and was having a good Easter Sunday. It had to be better than hers at the very least. Then she texted Geri saying she was awake and feeling better. She didn’t really feel much better in truth, but Kat knew that sort of talk cheered people up no end, so she gave them what they wanted to hear.
Kat shifted the covers further down her body, fighting to get them off. She placed her feet on the shiny linoleum floor, right, then left. Her brain throbbed in her head. She steadied herself on both arms and pushed herself upwards. The room span. She steadied, focused and moved forward. Out of the curtain and into the semi-light.
She was in a small ward of six with a large window to her right looking out onto the hospital grounds. Her bed was by the double doors, both shut for the night. She could see a TV flickering behind a curtain beside the window, heard its occupant snort at something funny. TV would be good to take her mind off things. TV, tea and something for her headache. She pushed through the double doors in search of the loo.
The Kitchen Knows All
Stevie and Vic had just finished clearing up the dinner dishes, the others having all disappeared. Now they were staring at each other in a way they hadn’t managed to do at the same time and in the same place for over six months.
“That was quite some announcement tonight.” Vic licked her dry lips.
“Laura and Tash? I know.” Stevie smiled. “Remember when you proposed to me all those years ago?” Stevie folded the tea towel she’d been holding and put it on the counter-top.
“No, remind me,” Vic said, smiling.
“You haven’t got dementia yet.”
“Not quite yet.” Vic paused. “Course I remember. Paris. At that crêperie at the bottom of the Eiffel Tower. You had that massive jug of cider that you hated but drank anyway…”
“…And then vomited up later.” Stevie’s laugh lit up the room.
“Never a more romantic proposal evening had by anyone in the world.” Vic paused and the kitchen seemed to take a breath. “And I wouldn’t change it for anything.”
Stevie saw her wife now as she always had – strong, dark and beautiful, tufts of her brown hair sticking out at the sides of her head where the arms of her glasses had trapped them. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot, tired from the weekend’s exertions. However, her skin was still smoother than her 39 years, her demi-butch poise still evident.
If quizzed after the event, Stevie wouldn’t be able to give you reasons for her actions. Just that the house was quiet and desire was thumping through her veins. Then suddenly she was in the moment where it was just her and Vic and nobody else’s crap. After months of letting her head rule her thinking, she finally let her heart take over.
Stevie propelled herself towards Vic, pressing herself against her wife’s body. It felt like home.
***
Vic’s head was spinning: Stevie was snogging her – full-on, honest-to-god pashing. It was like they were at some teenage party and someone had a stopwatch going, with honours to the couple who could snog the longest. They were going for gold. Vic had forgotten what it was like to hold her, to feel her body this close, to breathe in her skin. Right now, it was a house of full-on love.
They kissed for what felt like hours, their lips clinging to each other, their t
ongues probing until they weren’t sure where each one started and ended. Because in that moment, they didn’t. They were one.
Vic could feel their future being rewritten before her, draping itself over her like a magic cloak; she could taste it as she swallowed the information down. It tasted like honeycomb, like freshly squeezed sunshine. It tasted like she always knew her life was meant to taste.
Vic heard a door slam and it broke the moment with Stevie, who stepped back, grinning shyly. She was still holding on to Vic, whose mouth was curled into a smile.
“So.” Vic held her wife’s gaze.
“So.”
She pushed Stevie back slightly and held out her hand in greeting.
“Vic, nice to meet you.”
Stevie took her hand which, as usual, was freezing cold. Stevie shivered, which made Vic smile.
“Cold hands, warm heart,” Vic offered.
“Cold hands, freezing wife more like.”
Vic gazed up into Stevie’s deep green eyes, noting the flecks of yellow and blue painted through them. She touched Stevie’s face, angled her head and they kissed again, their lips fused, Stevie’s shoulder clicking slightly as she leant down to Vic’s mouth. The chemistry was instant, had never left. Vic lost herself in the kiss of her life.
“Ahem,” a deep voice said.
Vic and Stevie jumped away from each other.
“It’s okay, I mean, carry on – please carry on,” Stu said. “I just didn’t think I should come in here and get a drink and pretend like nothing’s happening.” His eyes widened as he clapped his hands together.
“Because this,” Stu continued, indicating the space in front of Vic and Stevie, “this is very good news, isn’t it? You’re kissing, soon you’ll be shagging and then all of our futures won’t have to be rewritten like in Back To The Future! I can’t tell you how relieved I am. I had visions I was going to be erased and have to go back to one of my past lives, like as a waiter or something. This is great news!”
He came in for a group hug, taking both bemused women in his arms. “I love you guys but most of all, I love you guys together. All is right with the world again!”
When the hug broke, Vic stroked her chin. “Do you mind just… running all that Back To The Future shit by us again?” she said. “Because it may have been stewing in your brain for a while, but you have to understand this is all new to us.”
Vic and Stevie were standing apart from each other now, staring up at Stu.
“All new Stu, all new,” Stevie nodded. “So am I Marty McFly?”
Stu threw his hands up in the air. “You’re both Marty McFly!” he said. “And now we all get to live again!” He paused. “You did have us worried for a bit, though…” Stu stopped and took a huge gulp of air.
Vic and Stevie took in his words, which was difficult as there were so many and they were all still bouncing around the kitchen, sliding off work surfaces, oozing across the floor. There was a noise and they all looked up, turning towards the door as Darren came in.
“What did I miss? Why are you all looking so weird?” Darren walked over to Stu, who beckoned him in.
“Group hug, group hug!” Stu gathered everyone up together. “Vic and Stevie are kissing again and everything is great. I love you guys!” he said into the huddle, looking down at everyone’s socked feet.
“And you tell me I speak a load of rubbish,” Darren said.
Tash & Laura
Tash and Laura were laid in bed holding each other, their thoughts spinning madly above them. Both hearts were racing, minds blotchy, skin clammy. They were both carbonated with love, both thinking about their lifetime ahead of sleeping with each other and nobody else. It felt comfortable, warm, right.
“So when are we going to tell the girls?” Laura’s hot breath bounced off Tash’s cheek and back at her.
The corners of Tash’s mouth turned upwards. “Really? That’s the best post-coital talk you’ve got? I thought I trained you better than that.”
Now it was Laura’s turn to smile. “Sorry,” she said. “You were hot. It was amazing. You’re the best I’ve ever had. Shall we do a reality TV show?”
“Now we’re talking…” Tash turned to her.
“Sure-fire ratings winner,” Laura said. “And I’m sure the girls would love it.”
Tash shook her head, closing her eyes with a smile. After a few seconds, she opened them again and tilted her head up towards Laura. “But seriously, I think we just need to sit with it a while first, work out our reactions and how we want to deal with it. Not put more pressure on us than we need to.”
Laura made a face. “I don’t want to lie to them…”
“We’re not lying to them.” Tash reached out and smoothed down Laura’s hair, which was static after recent exertions. “But we don’t tell them everything we’re going to do in our lives straightaway, so why should this be any different? Let’s get used to it ourselves first, then we can sit them down and tell them, tell the rest of the family. I’m talking days and weeks, not months and years.”
Laura stroked Tash’s face. “I guess you’re right.”
“I’m always right, sweetheart – you really need to learn this, especially since we’re getting married,” Tash said. “And then, once it’s out there, we can burrow a trench in the back garden and sit there for about a hundred years until everyone’s stopped asking us what we’re wearing, what’s the theme and how big the cake is. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Vic & Stevie
When Vic returned from the bathroom Stevie was lying under the covers with a seductive smile on her face. As she walked across the bedroom Stevie raised and lowered both her eyebrows in quick succession, which made Vic laugh.
“You okay sweetheart? Having a fit?” Vic sat down on the bed and tugged off her jeans.
Stevie pursed her lips. “I’m giving you my come-to-bed eyes.”
Vic looked over her shoulder. “Looks more like come-to-bed eyebrows.”
Stevie wafted her hand through the air and rolled her eyes. “Lost on you,” she said, giving Vic a mock scowl.
Vic placed her glasses on her bedside table, then swung herself under the covers and round to face Stevie. Their faces were now inches apart as she leant in for a kiss before taking Stevie in her arms, joining their bodies together: lips, breasts, thighs, feet. Vic ran a hand over Stevie’s body and pulled back, giving her an amused look.
“You’re naked,” she said, smiling. In contrast, Vic felt like a prude. She hastily pulled her T-shirt over her head and wriggled out of her pants, throwing both on the floor beside the bed.
“Good work, Sherlock. Ever thought about going into police work like Gimps?”
“I wouldn’t want to show her up.” Vic rolled on top of Stevie, the pull of their two naked bodies slotting back into place drawing low moans from them both. Vic soaked Stevie in before opening her eyes and planting another kiss on Stevie’s mouth.
“I forgot how good you feel,” she said.
Stevie simply nodded.
And just like that a lock turned, the door was thrown open and the past six months crumbled to nothing. The force field between them was now replaced with magnetic love, wrenching them together, refusing to take no for an answer. Tonight the question and the answer were simply: yes.
Stevie licked her lips, kissed Vic, slid down to her neck. Vic swallowed hard and clung on tight as the longing became a tornado rolling through her. She circled her tongue around Stevie’s nipple, kissed down her body, slid hands down her back, squeezed her buttock.
In return, Stevie nibbled, licked, worshipped. Vic was taut and firm beside her and she felt herself clawing at her skin, wanting it all at once, not able to get enough in one go. They rolled together, primal instincts taking over, hands sliding between legs, thighs between thighs, teeth grazing skin.
Then Vic was on top, taking control. Stevie’s eyes flashed with wanting, she knew what was coming ne
xt: the pop of the lube, the aching want, her legs spread.
Stevie arched herself into it, ached for it, dug into Vic’s back as she steadied herself. The slam of her head into the pillow as Vic entered her, the feeling engulfing her. Her whole body sizzled with want – she’d missed this, needed it, craved it. Stevie let the sensation overtake her and fell with abandon. After a few minutes, Stevie felt an orgasm rip through her body from her very core as she spread her legs wider, revelling in its glory. A few seconds to recover and then...
Then they were both at it, grasping, rhythmic, poetic, glorious. Mouths fastened, clits hardened, words whispered in ears. Both reaching for each other at the same time, finding angles, lubing up, sliding in with no finesse. Fingers filling, backs arching, sweat glistening.
Then just when Vic could take no more, Stevie slid down and applied her tongue, gliding through liquid heat, working it like a pro. Knuckles whitened, grips tightened, edges toppled, stars circling. Vic swore loudly as she was sent spinning, her body taken to a new dimension.
Moments later they were still, touching, together. Eyes glazed, brains woozy, kisses softer, bodies fused. They were both floating now, wrapped in a cocoon of sex. I love you. I really fucking love you. Repeat to fade.
MONDAY
At the front of the house Geri was wide awake. Why couldn’t she sleep in anymore? If this was what she’d got to look forward to in the coming years, she had every right to feel depressed. Soon she’d be standing in front of shops waiting for them to open, tutting at the young shop assistants because they were 20 seconds late.
Still, for some reason Geri was smiling as she woke up today, refreshed by sleep and ready to take on the world. She was more than ready to leave this supposed idyll, get the hell out of Devon and back to London. Yes, London had its fair share of cheating dykes, too, but at least she knew what they looked like. Clearly, her radar had completely failed in Devon.
