Love Burns Bright

by Radclyffe

  “Why don’t you get dressed, and I’ll get us a table at Linton’s?”

  “No! I wanted us to…” Matilda brushed her bangs out of her face. “I wanted this to be something special. You know, just you and me.” She looked at Olivia with both affection and disappointment.

  Olivia threw a short look at the vegetables lying around, some cut, some peeled, most of them still waiting to be processed. She regarded the baguette that still needed to be sliced, spread and grilled, and the ingredients for the pasta sauce cluttered around the stove. Her eyes wandered to Matilda and rested on her flushed face for a while. Eventually, she reached for her hand and stroked her palm with gentle movements. “Maybe I can help?”

  “No.” Matilda frowned. “You just came back, and you must be exhausted. This was supposed to be a special treat. I don’t want you to work on your own surprise!”

  “But I messed it up by being early.”

  Matilda smiled a little. “You sure did! How come, anyway?”

  “We finished earlier than expected, and I couldn’t wait to come home, so I rebooked the flight.” Olivia winked. “I thought I’d surprise you. How was I to know?”

  The butterflies were dancing now, and for a moment, they made Matilda forget about being upset. “I’m sure I can have this ready in no time. You go change, or have a bath or—”

  “Baby, this will take you hours!” Olivia objected. “Come on, let me help.”

  Matilda sighed reluctantly.

  With gentle force, Olivia pulled her closer and pressed her finger on Matilda’s mouth. “You will be too stressed out to enjoy any of this if you do it alone. Either you let me help, or I abduct you and carry you off to Linton’s.”

  Matilda puckered her lips. “Seems you leave me no choice.”

  “You got it.” Olivia kissed her tenderly. “So, tell me what to do.”

  “Could you cut the baguette and then spread this paste on the slices?”

  “All right. I’ll just get into something more comfy and be back in a minute.”

  Matilda watched her leave, an anthracite business suit accentuating her hourglass figure, her long legs in patent-leather pumps. A wave of her fresh, classy perfume still lingered in the air, and Matilda let her eyes wander down to her own outfit, feel-good pants and a washed-out blouse. Her hands smelled like a garlic harvester’s and if she checked herself in the mirror, she would surely find traces of apricot pulp on her face. With a small sigh, she turned and started to peel an onion.

  This was not how their evening was supposed to be. She hadn’t set the table, the dinner would take at least another hour, and the bedroom looked far from romantic.

  Olivia returned and started to prepare the crostini. “On the baking tray?” she asked, half-turned toward Matilda.

  “Uh-huh,” Matilda mumbled and wiped her eyes.

  Olivia looked up. “Please tell me you’re crying because of the onions.”

  Matilda nodded, sniffing. For some moments, she furiously hacked the onion into small shreds. The butterflies had stopped their dance.

  “This is not how it was supposed to be.” It finally burst out of her. “I wanted to look irresistible, I wanted to spoil you, I wanted all this to be ready!” She made a gesture comprising the kitchen. “It’s been so long since we had a weekend to ourselves, and I wanted tonight to be perfect for you!”

  Olivia didn’t reply, but threw her a peculiar look from beneath her dark lashes. She placed the last piece of bread on the tin, walked over to her and clasped her hands around her waist. “Put that away for a moment,” she said, taking the chopping knife and a half-cut onion out of Matilda’s hands and lifting her up onto the kitchen counter. “You know the moment I knew I wanted to marry you?”

  Matilda snuffled and shook her head.

  Olivia pushed the chopping board away and spread Matilda’s legs a bit so she could be closer to her. “It was on the second anniversary of our first kiss. Remember that night?”

  Matilda wiped her cheek. ”I planned to make dinner for us.”

  “You burnt the fish, and the rice was still raw.” Olivia’s eyes shimmered softly, and her voice had a tenderness to it that made her recollection of the ruined dinner sound like a declaration of love. A few butterflies fluttered their wings again.

  “In the end, we had pizza from Sammy’s,” Matilda said and laughed. She wrapped her arms around Olivia’s neck. “So how was that the day you knew you were going to marry me?”

  Olivia looked down. “When you were running out of fish to turn into sad little pieces of coal and finally let me order takeout, you had this same disappointed look on your face...like a little girl who just found out the truth about Santa.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I just knew.” She placed her lips on Matilda’s and spoke the last words directly into Matilda’s mouth. “There was no one I ever wanted to kiss but you. For my whole life.”

  Matilda rested her head on Olivia’s shoulder. “See, now you’re so sweet and I missed you so much and I wanted to have the perfect night planned for us and…” She fought the tears that filled her eyes. “Instead it’s a mess. And not just the food—me too.”

  “There’s no denying it,” Olivia said matter-of-factly.

  The butterflies stopped and hung their wings. She hadn’t exactly been fishing for compliments; after all, she was a mess. But a bit of sugarcoating would have helped.

  Olivia moved her hand beneath Matilda’s chin and raised her head. “And yet…I can’t stop marveling at how hot you are.” The fingers of her other hand crawled underneath Matilda’s shirt and lingered there. “And you have no idea how much I want you. Right now.”

  Swarms of butterflies bumping into each other as they buzzed around excitedly. “You…in this?” Matilda tugged at her stained blouse.

  Olivia nudged Matilda’s upper lip with hers. “And the pants you’ve insisted on keeping for ages now.” She let her hand wander down Matilda’s jeans, making the hairs on the small of her back rise. “And you know what?” she mumbled, half kissing her.

  “Mmph?”

  Olivia took her time, teased Matilda’s tongue with hers and nibbled a little on her bottom lip before sealing her mouth with a kiss.

  “What?” Matilda wrapped her legs around Olivia’s thighs.

  Olivia moved her mouth toward Matilda’s ears and placed little kisses on her neck. “I want to taste you,” she breathed, and her damp sigh sent the butterflies over the edge for good. “You…and this…” she said, reaching for the bowl of apricot sauce. She picked up a piece of bread, dunked it in the sauce, then dipped it in mascarpone.

  Matilda bit her lips. “That looks delicious.”

  “Taste it,” Olivia whispered and watched Matilda take a bite. She ran her finger across a drop of fruit juice that was dripping down Matilda’s chin and licked at her lips. “Amazing,” she mumbled as her fingers unbuttoned Matilda’s blouse.

  Matilda dipped her finger in the creamy white mixture, then coated it with apricot sauce. She watched Olivia lick the sweet paste off her finger before melting into another long kiss. Olivia pushed her back onto the countertop and stripped off her blouse. Impatiently, Olivia fumbled with the bra and gave a satisfied sigh when she finally removed that as well. With a sparkle in her eyes that made the butterflies delirious with anticipation, she held the bowl of sauce over Matilda’s bare chest and half-naked body. “It’s the only thing we really need,” she whispered. The next moment, thick drops of fruit sauce were running down Matilda’s nipples.

  Matilda sighed and pushed back her head. She closed her eyes and moaned softly when Olivia’s tongue started to lick off the juice. Olivia’s fingers crawled up her body, searching for her mouth. They were sticky and tasted of cream and apricots. Matilda kissed them, then ran her lips down Olivia’s palm and wrist. But when she made a move to sit up, she was forced down by a flat hand. A cool sensation followed the wild strokes of Olivia’s tongue as she adorned the tip of Matilda’s breasts with mascarpone. Soft quivers mad
e the paste wobble on her hardened nipples.

  “Watch,” Olivia said, and Matilda propped herself up to watch her draw a big heart on her belly. The curtain of Olivia’s black hair was blocking Matilda from seeing her lap off the line of apricot sauce, and she brushed back the strands, sticky with fruit juice.

  Olivia kissed Matilda’s belly button and made a noise of pleasure. “Baby, you are so lickable.” Her fingers opened the zipper of Matilda’s pants. “In fact…” She pulled the pants away. Her finger moved over Matilda’s panties and teasingly, she increased the pressure the farther down she went. She didn’t waste much time before allowing the panties to follow the rest of Matilda’s clothes onto the floor.

  “Thank you for loving me the way you do,” Olivia whispered, and now Matilda did sit up. She pressed a fierce and loving kiss on Olivia’s mouth that transformed into a stifled moan as Olivia’s finger began to rub her. The bottle of olive oil toppled over with a clunk as Olivia made her lie back again. Matilda could feel the velveteen liquid somewhere underneath her shoulders, but soon, all other feelings were ousted by the humming of a jubilant ballet of butterflies, which turned more and more into an uncoordinated bop with every caress of Olivia’s tongue.

  When the tension grew too much to bear, she began to scream. The sound soon morphed into a long moan as Olivia’s lips caused her to climb that last edge and fall down on the other side.

  She remained lying there, her eyes closed, the olive oil slippery underneath her back now, and despite her numbness, she could feel Olivia’s breath warm and damp against her thigh. She shivered a bit as Olivia got up and rested her head on her belly. Matilda wondered if her wife could feel the butterflies bowing graciously, taking a deep breath and preparing for the next dance.

  Languidly, she twirled one of Olivia’s strands around her finger. “That was so not what I had in mind when I pictured the evening.”

  Olivia laughed. “Disappointed?”

  Matilda shook her head. “Not at all.”

  Olivia snuggled her head into the curve of her belly and drew circles on her skin. She pressed a kiss on Matilda’s belly, then wrapped her sticky, sweaty, languid body into her arms. “Neither am I.”

  RIPPLES IN STILL WATER

  Stella Harris

  Melanie came through the door, dropped her gym bag and squatted down to receive enthusiastic kisses from Bandit, her Boston terrier. Once his need for affection was sated she moved further into the house, looking for her wife Ruby. At this time of night she expected to find her in bed, propped up on pillows and reading a book. But as she rounded the turn into the hallway, Melanie was met by humid air and the smell of lavender—Ruby was running a bath.

  The wave of fondness she felt at the thought of her wife lounging in bubbles, pampering herself, was quickly overcome by a flutter of panic in her gut. She didn’t like the idea of Ruby getting in and out of the bath on her own, especially when she was in the house by herself.

  “Ruby?” she called out, as much to announce herself as to actually find Ruby. The last thing she needed was to startle her while she was in a precarious position. She’d never forgive herself if Ruby was hurt because of her.

  “In here.” Ruby’s voice came from the bathroom.

  Melanie, in the room just a few steps later, was relieved to find Ruby sitting on the closed toilet, still bundled in the heavy terry-cloth robe she’d given her last winter.

  “Hey,” Ruby said, smiling up at her.

  “Hey yourself.” Melanie bent over to give Ruby a lingering kiss before preparing to let loose about how dangerous it was for Ruby to be taking a bath alone, but Ruby cut her off.

  “Don’t lose your head, I knew you’d be home tonight and I was waiting for you to get here.” Ruby spoke with her usual resigned annoyance. Melanie had been fussing since the day they found out Ruby was pregnant, and while she claimed to hate Melanie’s mother-hen routine, Melanie secretly suspected she enjoyed the attention.

  At Ruby’s admission, Melanie relaxed. She squatted and rested her hands on Ruby’s thighs. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m feeling perfectly fine—same answer I texted you a few hours ago.” Ruby’s smile took the bite out of her words. Melanie squeezed her thighs, giving her a playful leer and parting her bathrobe. She got further than she’d expected before Ruby batted her hands away. “Now that you’re here, how about you make yourself useful and help me into the tub?”

  Melanie offered Ruby her hands, and Ruby stood a little awkwardly but didn’t complain about her center of gravity being off. A familiar refrain, but Melanie didn’t mind. She wouldn’t be nearly as gracious as Ruby if she were the one whose body was going through these changes.

  Ruby untied her belt and let the robe fall to the floor around her feet. Melanie wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, but knew Ruby was self-conscious about her new, curvier form and didn’t always respond well to compliments. Instead she made herself as unobtrusive as possible, ready to offer whatever support Ruby needed as she stepped carefully into the tub, first one foot and then the other.

  Melanie waited until Ruby was settled comfortably, knelt beside the tub, and grabbed the washcloth and soap. She dunked the cloth into the tub and lathered it up while Ruby leaned back and closed her eyes. Ruby liked to act tough, but Melanie knew she didn’t enjoy the weekends she spent alone while Melanie was out of town working. It had been bad enough being apart before, but now that Ruby was pregnant it was even worse. Melanie hated being away just as much, but they needed the money, especially now, with a baby on the way.

  Once the washcloth was soapy enough, Melanie massaged Ruby’s shoulders and neck. A look of bliss crossed Ruby’s face and she sank a few inches deeper into the tub. With her short frame she could actually stretch out in the tub and be fully covered by the water, the only thing that Melanie envied about Ruby’s height.

  “So how was work?” Ruby asked after basking in the massage. The degree of pleasure Ruby took in hearing about Melanie’s—or more accurately, Whiskey’s—customers was difficult to fathom. She could still remember how terrified she’d been about telling Ruby what she did when they first met. The last thing she expected was that the perky tea-shop barista she’d had her eye on for weeks not only wouldn’t mind that she was a stripper, but that she’d be fascinated by it. To this day Ruby had never actually gone to a club to watch her work, but she loved hearing all the details.

  “Work was work, nothing out of the ordinary,” Melanie said, urging Ruby to lean forward so she could scrub her back. She had stories to tell, of course, but she liked to tease and make Ruby work for it. It had gotten to the point that she would compose her stories in advance while she was working—thinking of the best way to describe a particular customer or a new dancer. It made work more interesting, especially when things were slow.

  “You’re holding out on me,” Ruby grumbled.

  Melanie smiled and got up on her knees, leaning forward so she could reach all of Ruby’s back. “Well, there was one guy who kept talking about pickles…dills, gherkins, bread-and-butter…he asked each girl what her favorite kind of pickle was, and each time he was disappointed with the answer.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told him I didn’t like pickles.”

  Ruby flicked water at her. “That’s not true, you love pickles! You have more pickle cravings than I do, and I’m the pregnant one!”

  “True, but that’s me. Whiskey doesn’t like pickles.” Ruby made her “thinking face” at this, her eyebrows pulling together. Melanie thought this was painfully cute, but had learned the hard way not to comment on it.

  “Okay, that’s fair,” Ruby conceded. “How else is Whiskey different from you?”

  “Well, for one thing she doesn’t have a hot wife waiting for her at home.”

  Ruby stuck her tongue out at that, but didn’t argue with the compliment. The warm water seemed to be relaxing some of the feistiness out of her.

  “Actually, I did break
my rule. I told one of my customers about you.”

  Ruby perked up at this. “Really?”

  “Yeah, this girl came in with her husband and she was really sweet. Bought a lot of dances and we started chatting. I’m not sure what it was about her, but I just started talking, telling her about my life.”

  “Did you tell her your real name?”

  “No, I didn’t go that far. There are some rules I don’t break,” Melanie assured her.

  “So tell me about this girl. Was she as sexy as me?”

  “No one’s as sexy as you.” That earned Melanie more water flicked in her direction, but Ruby didn’t manage to quash her smile before Melanie had seen it.

  “So what did she look like?” Ruby leaned forward as she asked, presenting her back for more attention. Melanie lathered up the cloth again and went to work as she spoke.

  “She was tall, taller than me, even with my heels. Shoulder-length red hair in a bob. Slender, but with curves in the right places.” Melanie took her chances and punctuated the word curves by dipping her hands under the water and grasping Ruby’s hips—always deliciously curvy and even rounder than usual over the last few months. Ruby didn’t protest, so Melanie kept her arms under the water, squeezing Ruby’s hips and digging her thumbs into Ruby’s lower back.

  “So? That’s all it took to make you spill your story? Red hair and some curves?” Ruby teased.

  “Not just that. She had a great laugh and seemed interested in what I had to say. Even when I was completely nude, she was still looking me in the eye—that’s not something I encounter much, even with the female customers.”

  “You don’t get girls much. Was it fun dancing for her?”

  “Sort of, certainly more fun than a creepy old guy with wandering hands. But it hit a little too close to home. I don’t want to enjoy myself at work, it spoils my concentration.”

  “So you enjoyed yourself, huh? Did she turn you on?” Ruby’s voice dropping low. Melanie knew this wasn’t a test. Neither of them was the jealous type.