Going on Red

by Lyn Gardner

  Not having played for a few years, Kate had lost the first three games, and her shoes, socks, and jeans had been removed. Since she had chosen eight-ball, the slower pace gave her the time to remember the basics, and like riding a bike, by the start of the fourth game, Kate’s skills had returned, and she easily won the next three.

  Kate was beginning to think Brodie was getting tired, and as she leaned down for her next shot, she glanced over at her opponent and almost burst out laughing. True to Devon’s drunken admission, even though Brodie could hold her own playing pool, the sight of breasts, or rather tits, was her undoing. Kate was still wearing Brodie’s Oxford, and one quick peek told Kate what she already knew. Each time she bent down, the shirt would gap, and that gap gave Brodie more than ample view of breasts trying their best to escape Kate’s bra.

  Kate quickly told herself it wasn’t really cheating, and she began choosing her shots more prudently. Whenever there was more than one choice, she’d pick the one directly in line with Brodie’s point of view, and as she sunk the eight ball on their seventh game, Kate stood straight and smiled.

  Brodie frowned. With her shoes, socks, and jeans already piled on a nearby chair, she thought for a second before taking off her watch.

  “That’s not clothing,” Kate said, picking up a cube of chalk.

  “Sure it is.”

  “No, a watch is jewelry, not clothing, and you said the rules were the loser had to remove a piece of clothing.”

  “I didn’t know you were such a fashion guru,” Brodie said, setting her watch aside.

  “I’m not, but since you buy watches in the jewelry department and not off the racks, it doesn’t count. Choose something else.”

  Brodie was not bashful. When playing a game of strip pool with Devon, removing her clothes hadn’t been a problem, yet tonight was different. The woman across the way would most likely be sharing her bed tonight, and if Brodie got her wish, Kate would be doing it for the rest of her life. As if slowly stripping in front of Kate wasn’t enough to light Brodie’s fuse, the glimpses she’d been afforded of Kate’s breasts had caused that fuse to spark and sizzle.

  “Well?” Kate said with her hands on her hips. “You going to stand there all night?”

  Standing wasn’t the position Brodie had in mind, and thinking for a moment, she upped the ante. Taking off her shirt, she tossed it on a chair. “Satisfied?”

  “Yes,” Kate said, gesturing toward the table. “And I believe you need to rack because it’s my break…again.”

  While Brodie gathered the balls, Kate stood at the opposite end of the table, admiring the view. Although still wearing her underwear, the minimal black cloth did little to hide Brodie’s attributes, and when she leaned over to adjust the triangle, Kate had to hold back a gasp.

  Kate couldn’t remember ever being affected like this. Her center throbbed, her mouth watered, and her mind was overflowing with things that would make any adult blush. Kate was totally turned on, and she liked it.

  Brought back to reality when she heard Brodie call her name, Kate looked up. “What?”

  “You’ve been cheating.”

  “I have not.”

  “Yes, you have,” Brodie said, picking up a piece of chalk. “You remembered what Devon said earlier, and all night, you’ve been making sure to give me a view of your chest, or are you going to deny it?”

  Humor sparkled in Kate’s eyes as she shrugged. “I can’t help it if you get all distracted by tits.”

  “Is that so?” Brodie studied Kate for a second, and then reaching around, she unclasped her bra and dropped it on a chair. “Well, let’s just see how well you play now.”

  Kate told herself not to look. She told herself she’d seen Brodie’s breasts before, and holding her head high, she told herself she would prevail. Kate walked around the table, and swallowing to clear the excess moisture in her mouth, she took aim on the cue ball…and promptly missed. Kate’s cue skittered off the side of the white orb, and as the ball rolled a few inches to her left, Brodie’s guffaw filled the room. Kate’s cheeks flamed instantly.

  In all her glory, Brodie strutted around the table, giving her time to get her mirth under control. “It seems like I’m not the only one distracted by tits, DI Monroe,” she said, waving Kate away. “Now, if you don’t mind, I believe it’s my shot.”

  Presented with no less than three opportunities to re-enter the game, Kate failed every time. She couldn’t concentrate on anything except a pair of beautiful breasts attached to the woman she loved.

  Quite comfortable in her state of undress, Brodie began slowing down the game, casually leaning over the table to line up shot after shot. She was no longer in a hurry to rush what she knew was inevitable because this had become foreplay, and Brodie adored foreplay. Whether Kate knew it or not, the woman’s breathing had changed. Her face was now flushed, and Brodie had lost count how many times Kate had cleared her throat or licked her lips.

  Brodie leaned down again and called the corner pocket. The eight ball dropped solidly, and standing straight, Brodie grinned. “I believe that means you lose.”

  Kate cleared her throat again as she debated on which piece of clothing to forfeit, but instead of tossing the borrowed shirt on top of the growing pile, Kate reached underneath it. Seconds later, she pulled her bra down one of the sleeves, tossed it aside, and then re-racked the balls. “There you go, sweetheart,” she said, removing the triangle. “And don’t forget to concentrate.”

  Much to Kate’s surprise, Brodie began running the table, calling pockets and making shots like she was a pro, and as each ball disappeared, Kate’s core throbbed harder. With only the eight ball remaining, Brodie walked around the table, applying a bit of blue chalk to the end of her cue, and Kate backed away to allow Brodie the room to take her shot.

  Brodie leaned over the table, prepared to sink the eight ball yet again when she felt the slightest hint of fabric belonging to an Oxford shirt graze her hip. Brodie froze.

  Kate was all about self-control. She had quit smoking cold turkey, had always tried to limit herself to a few glasses of wine or the occasional fruity cocktail, and could walk past the most decadent chocolate shop in all of London without batting an eye. But Brodie had brought a whole new meaning to the word decadent. Actually, Brodie had brought a whole new meaning to almost everything.

  Kate had known envy, but full-blown jealousy resulting in downing shots of tequila to kill the pain was a road she had never traveled until Brodie. Kate had also experienced physical attraction, yet the fierceness of the lust now flowing through her veins didn’t compare. Simply put, Kate wanted Brodie…and she wanted her now.

  Kate reached around and cupped Brodie’s breasts, and a second later, the cue in Brodie’s hand dropped to the table. Her throaty purr was like music to Kate’s ears and smiling into Brodie’s naked back, Kate pinched and rolled the stiffened tips of Brodie’s nipples between her fingers.

  Brodie’s first instinct was to turn around until Kate pressed herself against Brodie and rubbed her pelvis against Brodie’s bottom. It was Brodie’s turn to swallow hard. She was a prisoner in Kate’s embrace, and as the woman caressed, her lips traveled across Brodie’s shoulders and down her spine, leaving a trail of wet kisses atop skin now growing hot and damp. Brodie’s breaths grew short as her smoldering passion flared and unable to stand it any longer, she spun around. She wasted no time in tearing open the cotton shirt Kate was wearing, revealing the creamy flesh underneath, and for a split-second neither moved.

  As if reading the other’s mind, each threaded fingers through hair and pulled the other close. Their lips met in a hungry and demanding kiss, and as tongues plunged with urgency, hands groped, cupped, and fondled.

  “I want you,” Kate said in a breath. “Oh, my God, I want you so much.”

  Kate pushed Brodie’s knickers down her legs, and as Brodie stepped out of them, Kate was instantly awash in the heady aroma of Brodie’s desire. Their eyes locked for an instant, and no
words were necessary. Brodie widened her stance, and Kate slipped her hand between Brodie’s legs, burying her finger to the hilt into Brodie’s heated center.

  Wonderfully impaled, Brodie grabbed Kate by the hair and capturing her mouth in a savage kiss, Brodie lifted her hips, a sensual, silent plea for Kate to match her movement, yet Kate’s hand remained still. Her finger was deep, and with her palm pressed hard against Brodie’s clit, the sensation was more erotic than Brodie could have imagined. She was being possessed. She was being claimed…and the effect was dripping down her thighs.

  Brodie broke out of the kiss, and the look in Kate’s eyes was lustful and bold. It promised Brodie a night that would blend into morning and taking Kate by the wrist, Brodie urged her to remove her hand. “Let’s go to bed,” she said, her voice thick with passion.

  “No,” Kate said, pushing Brodie up against the table. “Here. Now.”

  A strained laugh slipped through Brodie’s lips, and reaching behind herself, she placed her hand on the table and locked her elbow. “Kate, darling, I appreciate your adventurousness, but while this felt is soft to the touch, there’s a very flat and a very hard piece of slate under it. We’ll be…um…much more comfortable in bed.”

  “Who says I want comfort?” Kate said, stripping out of her knickers. “Now get on the table, Brodie, because the only memory you’ll ever have about playing strip pool on this table again…is going to be this one.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  A week after they consummated their relationship, they had cuddled on the sofa in Brodie’s flat, and Kate voiced her concern about making their relationship known to her friends and work colleagues. Having never been one to hide her sexuality, at first, Brodie tried to argue the point until Kate finally told Brodie how her mother had reacted when Kate, like Devon, had come out to her. The ugly tirade her mother had spewed had been filled with vile words and disgusting analogies, and as Kate began to cry, Brodie held her close and reluctantly agreed.

  So, for the next two months, behind the locked doors of their homes, they were partners in every sense of the word. Whether fixing a meal, relaxing in front of the television, showering, or making love, they were as one. However, when they ventured out into the hustle and bustle of the real world, things would change.

  In dimly lit eateries or on darkened avenues, hands would be held, voices would become hushed, and words would be laced with innuendo, but when they walked the streets of London during daylight hours, Kate acted more like a friend than a lover. She’d amble alongside, but would never touch. If Brodie sent a lascivious grin in her direction, Kate would pretend not to notice, and when Brodie would suggest they stop by G-Street for a drink, Kate would offer a lame excuse and change the subject.

  At times, Brodie’s posture would slump, the lack of Kate’s enthusiasm to allow their relationship to flourish outside their homes pressing down on her, except today wasn’t like that. Today, Brodie was lighter than air when she walked into Kate’s house.

  “You’re quite bubbly,” Kate said as Brodie strutted in the door.

  Brodie removed her coat, and tossing it on a chair, she pulled Kate into her arms. “I missed you,” she said, giving Kate a quick kiss.

  “It’s only been two days,” Kate said before she was silenced by another kiss, and this time, it was filled with passion and heat.

  Almost a minute passed before Kate could finally come up for air, and when she did, she eyed Brodie and cocked her head to the side. “What’s going on?”

  “Whatever do you mean, darling,” Brodie murmured as she went to kiss Kate again.

  Kate held Brodie at bay. “You’re either very horny, or something has happened. Now, which is it?” Brodie waggled her eyebrows, and Kate laughed. “Okay, so you’re always horny, but this is something more—yes?”

  Brodie’s smile lit up the room. “We got the Cardinal Avenue school conversion.”

  “What!” Kate squealed.

  “I signed the contract this morning. There’s still a lot of work to do before Ethan can begin pulling permits, but the job is now officially ours.”

  “Oh, Brodie, that’s great,” Kate said as she gave her a hug. “Congratulations, sweetheart.”

  “You know it’s going to mean a lot of work and a lot of long hours,” Brodie said, holding Kate at arm’s length.

  “I’m sure it will, and that’s fine. We’ll manage.”

  Brodie hesitated for a moment. “And…um…and I’d like to celebrate.”

  “I would think so. What do you have in mind?”

  “I’d…I’d like to take you dancing on Friday night.”

  Brodie already knew what Kate’s reaction would be, so she wasn’t surprised when all the gaiety on Kate’s face dissolved in an instant.

  “Kate, look,” Brodie said, gazing into Kate’s eyes. “I know you say you’re not ready for everyone to find out about us, and you know I don’t agree with hiding behind doors, yet I’ve honored your wishes. What your mother did was truly shit, but I’m not asking for you to put my photo on your desk at work or…or wear a placard saying ‘I shag women.’ All I’m asking is that you take this one small step.”

  “It’s not small to me.”

  “I am not asking for the world here. Okay? This is a huge, huge contract, and all I want to do is celebrate it with you,” Brodie said, placing her hands on Kate’s shoulders. “We can have dinner at Calabria and then head over to Outskirts. You know it’s a nice place, and seriously, do you really think anyone you work with goes there?”

  Kate looked at the floor. “Brodie, I’m…I’m really not sure—”

  “Please, Kate,” Brodie said, lowering her head to look Kate in the eye. “Please…just do this for me.”

  Over the years, Kate had seen the true colors of many of the people she worked with. She knew the ones who had hearts of gold and the ones who’d go out of their way to help victims no matter the cost. She knew the ones who possessed not one ounce of prejudice, and those whose scales were tipped by the weight of their own bigotry. Kate knew the ones who would be her allies should she ever choose to come out, and Kate also knew the homophobes. Countless times she’d heard them pepper their conversation with words like fag or dyke, and her reaction had always been the same. She’d shake her head, chalk it up to sheer ignorance, and then get back to work, but it was different now. Now, they pointed to her. Now, they meant something, and now, they hurt.

  Kate looked at Brodie, prepared to once again turn down her offer, except when she gazed into the woman’s eyes, there was impending heartbreak looking back at her. Heartbreak that would be all Kate’s fault, and in that moment, Kate’s tunnel vision cleared. Brodie wasn’t asking for the world. She wasn’t asking for the impossible or the improbable or the impracticable. She was merely asking for an evening out on the town with the woman she loved. Kate sighed. “Okay,” she said, managing a thin-lipped smile. “So…what time are you going to pick me up?”

  ***

  After leaving work a little early, Kate had spent the last two hours primping and preening for her evening out with Brodie, and her nerves had finally given way to excitement. Already knowing what dress she planned to wear, Kate had spent an hour in the tub and another hour, picking out jewelry, applying makeup, and brushing her hair until it shined. Perfume was dabbed in all the appropriate places, lingerie was fastened, snapped, and adjusted, and shoes purchased for both looks and comfort were slipped on.

  Kate pulled her dress off the hanger, and stepping into it, she zipped it up before going over to stand in front of the mirror in the corner of her bedroom. Pleased to see it fit her exactly like she remembered, Kate turned this way and that, admiring the dress until she noticed a smudge under her eye. She returned to the bathroom to touch up her makeup, and a few minutes later, as Kate set aside her mascara, she glanced at her watch. “Oh, shit.”

  Kate rushed back into the bedroom, trying her best to tidy up the mess she’d created when she got home. Work shoes were kicked u
nder the bed and gathering up the clothes she had worn to work that day, Kate tossed them into the basket in the wardrobe seconds before she heard the doorbell chime. Taking a deep breath, Kate shut off the light and went downstairs.

  It wasn’t until Kate reached the entry when a bit of her anxiety returned, but pushing aside the feeling of a knot forming in her stomach, she opened the front door. “Hi there.”

  “Wow,” Brodie said in a breath.

  Purchased on the Saturday shopping spree a few months before, if ever there was a dress made for Kate Monroe, it was the one she was wearing. Soft jersey in a dark emerald hue, it was trendy and snug, and with a neckline plunging just short of being indecent, it wasn’t until Kate was closing the door behind her when Brodie could force more words to come out. “You look amazing.”

  Kate beamed, her cheeks reddening slightly when she noticed Brodie’s lustful stare. “Easy, stud,” she said, giving Brodie a quick peck on the cheek. “That is unless you’ve changed your mind about going dancing?”

  Brodie drank in the beautiful woman in front of her as if savoring the finest of wines. “Tempting,” she said, placing a light kiss on Kate’s lips. “But I think I’d enjoy a bit of foreplay if it’s all the same to you.”

  Brodie’s voice was low and carried in its undercurrent things that made Kate’s body flutter. They had danced twice before, and while her recollection of one was fogged by alcohol, the other was crystal clear. Alone on a dance floor at Harrison Shaw’s birthday party, they had swayed to a love song, and the feeling of Brodie’s body pressed against hers was something Kate would never forget. Foreplay…was putting it mildly.