Going on Red

by Lyn Gardner

  Kate shifted in her stance and took Brodie by the hand. “Then, let’s do this.”

  ***

  For nearly two hours, they had sat sipping drinks and chatting while the club pulsed around them. Even though Brodie had come to dance, she couldn’t fault Kate for wanting to wait until the crush of people moving to the music diminished. Toward eleven o'clock, the crowd finally thinned, and without saying a word, Brodie took Kate’s hand and led her to the dance floor. Brodie was walking on air, her face glowing with happiness as they approached the ebony tile, and then suddenly, Kate snatched her hand away.

  Brodie’s face went slack. “What’s the matter? I thought we came here to dance.” Brodie waited for a moment before she realized that something else was holding Kate’s attention, and following her line of sight, Brodie saw a tall, broad-chested man lumbering their way.

  “Frank, what are you doing here?” Kate said through a false smile.

  “I was about to ask you the same thing,” Frank Daggett said, his eyes darting back and forth between Kate and Brodie.

  Kate suddenly felt as if an elephant was sitting on her chest, and it was all she could do to maintain eye contact with Frank while her brain raced to come up with something to say. It finally did, and it would be the first of many mistakes Kate would make that evening. “I’m just having a drink with…with a friend. And you?”

  “Right,” Frank said, eyeballing Brodie for a second. “I’m here because my divorce was final yesterday. My mates thought they’d show me a good time and take me to all the new clubs in the area. I doubt I’ll be coming back here, though. A bit too queer for my tastes, if you know what I mean.”

  Brodie went rigid. Having heard stories about Kate’s arse of a partner, meeting him in person gave Brodie a whole new definition to the word arse. The man was an obnoxious, small-minded moron, and Brodie found herself struggling not to slap the smirk off his craggy, heavily-veined face.

  Kate could sense Brodie’s tension, but she told herself there wasn’t anything she could do about it. After all, it had been Brodie’s idea to go dancing, and in Kate’s mind, she had made her reluctance crystal clear. She wasn’t yet comfortable with having their relationship known, something else Brodie was more than aware of, and nothing had changed in the past week. Nothing at all. “I hadn’t really noticed,” Kate said with a shrug. “I come here for the wine and the music, not the clientele. They don’t bother me, and I don’t bother them.”

  Brodie’s hands turned into fists, her neck growing corded as she stared at the floor. All she had wanted to do was dance with the woman she loved, hold her in her arms and sway to the music until the wee hours of the morning, but in the time it takes for a thought to form, Kate had ruined everything. Just like that. Their celebration of Brodie getting the largest contract of her career was gone. Just like that. Dancing the night away was gone. Just like that. Intimate conversation over wine was gone…just like that. And to add insult to injury, Kate’s flippant statement made it sound as if she agreed with Daggett’s homophobic observation. Brodie took a deep breath. She needed to say something. She wanted to say something, and she would have if two more men hadn’t walked over and stood next to Daggett.

  “Kate, you know Bill and Larry, right?” Frank said, draping his arm across the shoulders of one.

  The dam broke, and Kate’s doubts, insecurities, and phobias flooded her mind in a torrent of fear and shame and guilt. The two that stood before her were the most arrogant, opinionated, and prejudiced in the station and one wrong move or one wrong word, and her secret would be out. In an instant, her night on the town with Brodie became a charade, and it was one Kate would play to the hilt.

  ***

  Along empty roads, dampened by an evening shower, they drove in silence back to Kate’s house. One was trying to find something she could say to ease the other’s mind, while the other grappled with an anger that had a life of its own.

  Brodie had spent the last two hours sipping her scotch, hoping the aroma of the blended malt would drown out the stench of Daggett’s cheap cologne. Once the introductions had been made, Frank and his mates ordered another round of drinks, and much to Brodie’s dismay, they yanked over a few unoccupied stools and plopped themselves down at the high-top table with Brodie and Kate. They began talking shop, complaining about their colleagues, whining about their workload, and pontificating on what they’d do if they were in charge as Brodie said nary a word. Kate interjected a nod when appropriate or flashed a smile if required, and more than once, she had joined the conversation, leaving Brodie feeling more alone than she thought possible. That was until the clock struck twelve.

  At midnight, a handsome man with an athletic build and chiseled features swaggered up to the table and asked Kate to dance, and a few seconds later, Brodie watched as the woman she loved danced in the arms of a stranger. The song ended, and another began, and then another, and then another until Brodie could no longer watch the parade of men dancing with Kate. She lowered her eyes and stared at her empty glass, barely acknowledging Frank and his buddies when they left to go to another club. Brodie sat there for over an hour before Kate finally came back to the table, and by that time, Brodie’s anger was raging.

  Brodie pulled into the driveway, and shutting off the engine, she walked around her sports car and opened Kate’s door. She knew if she said a word, it would be loud and most likely contain enough venom to kill an army, so she followed Kate silently up the walk, the click of Kate’s high heels on the concrete infuriating Brodie even more. Those shoes were meant for their date. That dress was meant for their date. The perfume, the earrings, the whispered words that were never spoken were all meant for a date that wasn’t.

  They went into the house, and after flicking on some lights, Kate tossed her coat onto a chair. Out of habit, Brodie did the same, but as Kate headed for the kitchen, Brodie didn’t move. Instead, she looked around at her surroundings and shook her head. This was the last place she wanted to be.

  “I’m going to fix some tea. Would you like some?” Kate said as she reached the kitchen door.

  “Actually, I think it would be best if I just leave,” Brodie said, picking up her coat.

  “What?” Kate said, doing an about-face. “I thought we were planning to spend the weekend together.”

  Brodie gritted her teeth as she threw her coat back onto the chair. “Well, it seems that plans change, Kate, or didn’t you notice? We had a plan to go dancing tonight to celebrate the largest contract in my entire bloody career, but instead, I had to sit with a bunch of wankers and watch as you allowed yourself to be manhandled by strangers.”

  “I wasn’t manhandled.”

  “They had their hands on your arse, Kate,” Brodie shouted. “I saw them, and more importantly, I saw you do absolutely nothing to stop them.”

  “They had their hands on my hips, Brodie. It’s what men and women do when they dance, but you wouldn’t know that, now would you?” Kate said, and spinning on her heel, she headed for the kitchen.

  Brodie went rigid, and clenching her hands, she marched after Kate. “Exactly, what is that supposed to mean?”

  Kate was filling the kettle with water when Brodie came into the room, and slamming it onto the stove, Kate whipped around. “I wasn’t manhandled by them, Brodie, but if you and I had danced tonight, exactly what were your intentions—eh? They didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have done if given half the chance.”

  “But I have the right.”

  “The right?” Kate yelled, throwing her hands in the air. “You have the right? Who the fuck do you think you are, believing you have the right to fondle me in public? What gives you the right to force me to be something I’m not yet comfortable being?”

  “Exactly what aren’t you comfortable with, Kate?” Brodie said, folding her arms. “Because if memory serves, two nights ago, you were more than comfortable with having my head between your legs.”

  Kate charged across the room, her anxieties morphing
into fury as she swung at Brodie. Well aware of Kate’s tendency to lash out, Brodie grabbed her arm, twisted her around, and pressed her against the wall.

  “Not this time, sweetheart,” Brodie said, pressing her body against Kate’s. “And here I thought those visits to the counselor were helping.”

  “Yeah, well, he never met you.”

  “Oh, so your temper is my fault?” Brodie said with a laugh. “Nice try, darling.”

  “Sod you, Brodie,” Kate said, fighting to get away. “Let me go!”

  After spending almost the entire night in the role of a voyeur, the more Kate squirmed, the more aroused Brodie was getting. Sex had been the furthest thing from her mind, but it was quickly becoming just the opposite. Kate was warm and soft, and her body was molding against Brodie’s so flawlessly, Brodie had to smother a groan as her libido announced itself.

  “I said, let me go!”

  Brodie smiled into Kate’s hair, and she lowered her lips to Kate’s ear. “You’re quite the spitfire, aren’t you, darling.”

  Brodie wasn’t the only one getting turned on. Between Brodie’s breath washing down her neck and the woman’s body nuzzled against hers, Kate was caught in the middle of her own emotions. In one direction was lust, hot and lascivious, the idea of being taken standing against the wall as lewd as it was exciting. However, in the other direction, was Kate’s rage. Rage about being pushed to do something she was not yet ready to do. Rage about her mother’s repulsive tirade. Rage at the friends she knew she’d lose. Rage at her work colleagues for words they’d yet to utter. Rage about a fear she could not best…and rage at the woman standing behind her.

  Kate’s nostrils flared. “I’ll show you spitfire,” she said. With all her might, Kate jammed her elbow into Brodie’s ribcage, and as soon as she heard Brodie’s grunt of pain, Kate winced at her own actions.

  Despite the fact the force of the jab had taken her breath away, Brodie was not yet willing to let Kate go. Kate’s breathing had changed, and more than once, she had pushed her bottom into Brodie instead of hugging the wall to avoid any contact. Brodie grinned. Their heated argument had lit more than one fire.

  Once again, Brodie lowered her mouth to Kate’s ear. “I thought you didn’t approve of bruises, darling.”

  “Let me go, and I’ll show you bruises.”

  Brodie chuckled. “I think I prefer you this way, darling.”

  “Stop calling me darling!”

  “Why? It’s not like there’s anyone else here, and besides, I already know you’re a dyke.”

  “Fuck you, Brodie.”

  Brodie spun Kate around and looked her in the eye. “If I’m not mistaken, I believe that’s exactly what you want to do right now. Isn’t it?”

  Kate swallowed hard. Brodie was right. It was what Kate wanted to do.

  Before Brodie knew what was happening, she was being grabbed by the hair and pulled into a kiss. It was punishing and wet, and when Kate thrust her tongue between Brodie’s lips, Brodie returned the kiss with equal ferocity. After hours of watching Kate in the arms of men and after hours of living a lie, Brodie’s frustrations, anger, and desire melded into something undisciplined and carnal. She didn’t want to make love to Kate. She didn’t want romance and soft words. Brodie wanted to pillage Kate like she would a stranger in a seedy club. She wanted the savagery that comes from lust, and breaking out of the kiss, she shoved Kate up against the wall.

  When Kate saw the hunger in Brodie’s eyes, her heart skipped a beat. She barely had time to take a breath before Brodie’s mouth was on hers, and for a fraction of a second, Kate tried to push away, and then the most basic of instincts took over. This was exactly what Kate wanted, and opening her lips, Kate returned the kiss as savagely as it was being given. Again and again, Kate captured Brodie’s lips, and when Brodie placed one leg between Kate’s and forced them apart, want oozed from Kate’s body.

  This was yet another road not traveled or even considered until Brodie had come into her life, and Brodie was again destroying signposts and presenting detours too tempting not to take. Kate had never wanted to be so totally possessed by another. To be taken forcefully and greedily was so alien, yet so erotic, and while there was a small part of Kate that wanted to run from the brutality of the moment, another part thirsted for the sheer domination it presented.

  Brodie ravaged Kate’s mouth as her hands began to do the same with her body, roughly squeezing breasts and tweaking nipples, and inflicting as much pleasurable pain as she could upon the woman who owned her heart. Brodie was mad for Kate, mad like an animal starving for food, and lifting the green jersey dress out of her way, Brodie grabbed Kate’s rounded cheeks, squeezing them so tightly the force almost lifted Kate from the floor. Kate’s sensual moan was all Brodie needed to hear, and a second later, she thrust her hand between Kate’s thighs and cupped her center.

  Kate was wet, so wet that her excitement had drenched her lacy knickers. Brodie ran a finger down the middle of the fabric, and as Kate’s breathing increased, so did the friction Brodie was creating. Through the silk, Brodie could feel the thickened folds, and urged on by Kate’s gasps, she continued to rub, and it wasn’t long before Kate began arching her hips toward Brodie’s hand. It was a plea, an urgent plea that Brodie had no intention of answering. Instead, she rubbed Kate through the cloth, wiggling her finger this way and that, applying more and more pressure precisely where it was needed until Kate grabbed her wrist.

  “I need you,” Kate said, holding Brodie’s hand in place. “I need you now.”

  Brodie looked Kate squarely in the eye. “This isn’t about what you need, Kate. This is about what I’m going to take.”

  Kate’s eyes flew open when, in one violent tug, Brodie ripped Kate’s knickers off, and a second later, Brodie dropped to her knees and lifted the fabric of Kate’s dress.

  The sight of Kate’s black garter belt and shimmering nylons almost pushed Brodie over the edge. She had never worn them before, and then Brodie remembered that tonight was supposed to be special. Brodie snickered to herself. This wasn’t the special she had wanted, and this wasn’t the special she had planned, but tonight would be special…nonetheless.

  Brodie inhaled the intoxicating aroma of Kate’s scent as she leaned in. A few weeks after they became lovers, Kate had shaved herself smooth, so there was nothing between Kate’s skin and Brodie’s tongue as Brodie licked the cleft between Kate’s legs.

  “Oh, God…” Kate said, her arms flailing wide in search of something to hold on to.

  Kate’s fashionable, high-heeled shoes were slipping on the tile floor as Brodie kept up her assault, and while Kate had managed to find the counter with one hand, it wasn’t enough to keep her steady. Fully aware of the consequences of her actions, Kate had no other choice but to lift one leg and drape it over Brodie’s shoulder.

  Brodie was already enthralled with the heady taste and aroma of Kate’s arousal, so when Kate opened herself up even further, Brodie wasted no time in devouring all that was now in full view. She tantalized and teased with her tongue, nearly drowning in the taste of Kate as she stroked and licked, while Kate helplessly writhed above her. With skills honed over the years, Brodie drew her tongue again and again through the moist petals, and when she reached Kate’s clit, she’d circle it once or twice before returning to the crevices coated in nectar. Refusing to give in to the insistent throbbing between her own legs, Brodie continued to toy with Kate, and parting the swollen folds with her fingers, Brodie licked and sucked against the engorged nub until Kate grabbed her by the hair.

  “Oh, God, Brodie,” she cried out, her core pounding for release. “Oh…yes.”

  Brodie stopped what she was doing, and yanking out of Kate’s grasp, she looked up. She waited until Kate’s eyes fluttered open, and when they met hers, Brodie plunged one finger inside.

  “Yesss,” Kate hissed, expecting the welcomed punishment to continue, but instead, Brodie was ever so slowly drawing her finger in and out. “Don’t yo
u dare tease me,” Kate said, looking down at Brodie. “Don’t you dare.”

  Tease. In one way or another, their entire relationship was built around that word. For months, Kate had teased Brodie, offering her crumbs when Brodie wanted a feast. Walking in and out of her life, Kate had tugged at Brodie’s heartstrings until they were stretched to the breaking point, and then she’d offer a glimmer of hope, and all was well again. Tonight had been like so many others, save for the fact that tonight their argument had erupted into the feral act now being committed in Kate’s kitchen under the bright whiteness of fluorescent bulbs.

  When she had walked into the house earlier, Brodie was angry, and even though heated words had driven Kate to try to strike her, raising a hand in return was unimaginable to Brodie. Instead, when her anger turned into lust, Brodie decided to inflict the only punishment she could. She would drive Kate to a point where she’d beg for climax, and then Brodie would gladly give it, but not before bringing Kate’s dignity to its knees. Brodie needed Kate to feel what it was like to have her self-respect pummeled by the person she loved. To know what it’s like to be forced to bow to Brodie’s control, just as Brodie was forced to bow to Kate’s at the club.

  But Kate’s throaty utterance wasn’t a plea. She hadn’t begged for release. She had demanded it, so Brodie continued to tease, tormenting Kate with leisurely strokes that had the woman squirming.

  “Goddammit, Brodie,” Kate said, taking a labored breath. “I’m begging you. Please…oh, God, please…”

  Brodie was on her feet in an instant, sucking in air as she glared at Kate.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Kate said, her eyes opening wide. “Don’t st—”

  “Take off your clothes.”

  “What?”

  “I said, take off your clothes,” Brodie said, giving Kate a slow once-over. “Every…last…stitch.”

  Kate didn’t have to think twice. She kicked off her shoes, and scrambling for the zipper on her dress, the green jersey fell to the floor within seconds, followed by her bra, the garter belt, and nylons. Kate’s breasts rose and fell in time with her breathing as she stood naked in her kitchen, waiting for Brodie to make a move. “Well, what are you waiting for? I did as you asked.”