“Do you think this is wrong?” she had asked Barbara as their relationship progressed from kissing, to touching, and on to fondling and heavy petting. When they were both comfortable enough to try, they began making hesitant forays into lovemaking.
“Between us, no, but you know others would find it wrong.”
“I meant is it wrong with God?”
“Do you think God would have put you in my path only to say, ‘Don’t touch, don’t love?’” Barbara countered, fervently hoping she was right. She knew the bible said that two men shouldn’t lie together, but that was the old testament, not the new, and they said nothing about two women anywhere in the bible. Besides, wasn’t the bible written by men?
“No, I don’t think God put you in my path only to tease me,” Marion answered, feeling relief as she touched her friend in a way that her husband had never touched her. It seemed to excite them both.
Suddenly returned to the present, Barbara answered, “Then, shall we go see Mr. Wheeler tomorrow?”
They agreed and finished their now tepid soup before talking about their plans and trying to make love, finally pulling blankets onto the floor and hurriedly getting undressed to enjoy their time alone without children knocking on their door.
Kissing Marion heartily, Barbara smiled down at her friend. Marion rolled them, so she was on top. She loved to lie on top of her lover, cushioned by her bulk. Those arms around her made her feel safe and wanted, and she wanted Barbara just as much. She leaned in to kiss her again, nibbling at the lush lips before nuzzling along the jawline to her lover’s ear. Barbara shuddered, loving the sensations this caused and relishing the feelings. She cupped Marion’s body tightly to her own, using her large hands to smooth and soothe the impulsive blonde. She caused more excitation as she aroused her, using her body to rub against her. Slowly, her knee spread the blonde’s legs, and she rubbed with her thigh until Marion was riding it.
Marion rubbed her mons against Barbara, pressing down between her legs with her torso until she was riding Barbara’s leg. She couldn’t quite reach the brunette’s lower half at first, but her hand crept down to take care of that deficit. She was pleased to find how wet she had made her.
It wasn’t enough for Barbara. She rolled them again, holding the blonde tightly as her weight loomed over her, but Marion was smiling, eager for whatever Barbara wanted to do to her. Barbara kissed her lips first and then kissed her way down the blonde’s neck towards the two erect nipples that begged for satisfaction. Barbara’s hand came up to tweak one nipple while her lips and tongue played with the other. The warmth of her breath and the moisture from her mouth felt wonderful to Marion, and she arched her breast into the brunette’s mouth, encouraging her. Marion’s hand came up to run her fingers through Barbara’s hair.
For a long time, Barbara played with Marion’s sensitive breasts, kneading them and tweaking the nipples until she could sense she was frustrating her lover. She moved down to Marion’s stomach, rubbing her face along it, relishing the feel of the soft skin against her cheek. Her fingers were playing with the curls between Marion’s legs, and she tugged gently, hearing a gasp of pleasure-pain from her before Barbara’s face finally moved down to greet the scent that was calling to her. She leaned in to taste, loving the salty musk on her tongue as her lips suckled at the folds. She cleaned the moisture thoroughly with her tongue and lips, her nose nuzzling to provide extra pleasure to them both. The scent enticed her, and she wanted to breathe it all in, plunge in fully, but she knew she needed to come up for air. For a petite woman, Marion’s folds were overly lush, but Barbara didn’t mind, and she played and explored, exciting the smaller woman. She played at the entrance with her tongue, plunging it in periodically and feeling Marion’s body respond. Her body arched in supplication, the wetness she released telling its own tale. Gently, she began to insert a finger, knowing Marion wasn’t overly large inside. She momentarily thought about how small the husband must have been to have not stretched her a little more and then stopped herself, not willing to ruin the moment. She reached inside and curled her finger slightly, gently petting from inside. Marion grabbed at Barbara’s head, grinding against her face where she was still lapping at the folds. The gasps forced her to bring her hand up to her mouth and shove her fist against it, so she wouldn’t be overheard. Marion’s legs clasped at Barbara’s back, trying to hold her closer.
Barbara smiled, knowing exactly what she was doing to the woman and enjoying the journey. Her pinky crept along the split, rubbing at the sensitive skin until it hit Marion’s anus, and she rubbed harder, in time with the little thrusts she had started with her inserted finger. Marion went wild, grinding down hard and at the same time, trying to pull away, but Barbara had clasped her buttock with one hand and was kneading it and holding her in place. Barbara continued her assault with her fingers, her mouth, and her tongue. Even her nose was rubbing along the delicate and overly sensitized folds. She kept it up, sending the blonde higher and higher until, with a scream against her fist, she came...and came...and came, bucking hard against the brunette’s face as her thighs squeezed Barbara’s head painfully. Eventually, finally, she calmed, and Barbara removed her hand, cupping Marion’s buttocks with both hands as she licked at the creamy moisture released by her lover. Slowly, she licked and kissed her way up Marion’s now sweaty torso, stopping to lave attention on the erect nipples.
“Nooo,” Marion moaned in a whisper. “Too sensitive,” she complained.
Barbara smiled, knowing she had exhausted her lover and loving every moment of their time together. Frequently, they had hurried couplings. Both were tired from working at the mill, and they always worried that the children would hear them and their endeavors. Now, she could take her time, and she loved it. She would have started again, but Marion had other ideas. She rolled on top of Barbara once again and now that her eyes were focused and looking down in Marion’s soft brown eyes, she leaned down to kiss her, tasting herself on the brunette’s lips.
Marion wiggled against the larger woman, knowing she loved this, especially when she accidentally hit a sensitive spot. Her hands weren’t shy as she loved Barbara, letting her know she was desirable, and Marion wanted her just as intimately as she had been taken. It was a long time later, rather late in the night, before they managed to make it into the bed they had rented. It was much colder, but they were thoroughly satisfied in each other as they shared knowing smiles and cuddled up under the blankets to share body heat.
CHAPTER THREE
“Ayyup, we can go and file at the courthouse for the change of property,” Mr. Wheeler told them after he accepted their checks; half from each of them. He never raised an eyebrow and didn’t ask questions, which both women found odd as they followed him to the building that constituted the courthouse in Franklin. It was an officious-looking building that would have housed only business offices in Boston, but built in colonial times, it was the courthouse for this town and the county surrounding it.
Many pieces of paperwork later, Whimsical Island was the property of Mrs. Marion Whiting and Mrs. Barbara Jenkins, including all water, mineral, and resource rights in perpetuity. They would be responsible for any improvements, taxes, etc. on the property from now on.
“Oh, my God. We’re crazy!” Barbara said as they left the courthouse, Mr. Wheeler having left determinedly. They saw him enter the Franklin Bank and assumed he was depositing their checks.
“I’m crazy for you,” Marion said quietly, so only Barbara could hear. She smiled up at the larger woman, showing her admiration for the woman and causing her to catch her breath at the sight of her dimples.
Barbara wished she could lean down and kiss her right there to celebrate their purchase but knew better than to show affection in any public place. She could occasionally get away with an impulsive hug or a kiss on the cheek but knew better than to push it. People would look at them oddly if they weren’t careful.
“Now, what do we do?” Marion asked, not sure what to do now
that they had the land.
“We look for somewhere to rent or buy a boat, then we find somewhere to store it and a trailer.”
“A trailer?”
“Well, we are going to need a trailer to haul our things up here, and we will need somewhere to store it and our vehicle.”
“I’m going to sell the Packard,” Marion decided then and there.
“Why? We need it to haul–”
“We should get a truck, so it can tow the trailer.”
“Well, since my Ford is on its last legs, let’s plan on selling that too and putting the proceeds towards either the trailer or the new truck?”
They discussed their plans as they made their way to the docks. They learned they could also buy a dock, which surprised them both, but seeing the condition some of the haphazardly built docks were in, they soon understood how easy it was...and why. They found one dock they felt was structurally sound. Marion even went so far as to look below it to inspect the rotting timbers and declared they had a good long life before them. The dock came with three parking spaces and they were able to buy it for a very reasonable price, getting a receipt from the city for their new property.
“Now, what?” Marion asked when they were finished. It had been an expensive day.
“I think we head back home and start making arrangements to move up here. We can buy a trailer and a boat down there just as easily as up here,” she pointed out. She was also anxious to get started and plan their move. They’d have to put some of their possessions in storage, but the majority of what they could use would be moved up here for their new home.
They checked out of the hotel. After packing up their bags and making sure they left nothing behind, they took the last ferry back down the coast. Barbara didn’t know if it was the excitement of knowing they had accomplished their mission or if the ocean was a bit calmer, but she noticed Marion didn’t suffer from the seasickness she had experienced on the trip up. That was a relief to both women as they quietly discussed their many plans and what they would need until exhaustion finally caught up with them. They dozed off in the chairs on the deck of the ferry, blankets covering them and keeping them warm from the elements. Finally, forced inside by the cold, they took seats on a bench with dozens of other travelers, placing their luggage beneath their legs and their purses under their backs, so no one could get at them, and dozed. They couldn’t truly sleep with all these people around them, but apparently, others could, and the snores and bad breath were strong in the air around them.
CHAPTER FOUR
“You are what?” was heard repeatedly as they slowly revealed their plans to their family and friends. Buying an island in the Atlantic Ocean halfway between Canada and Maine sounded like a dream to the two women, but to everyone else it sounded crazy.
“I knew we shouldn’t have told our families until we were about to move,” Marion complained bitterly. Her in-laws were outraged that she was taking their grandchildren so far away.
“It’s impractical, Marion,” her father-in-law told her condescendingly. For a moment, she thought he was going to pat her little, blonde head.
“The children need a proper education,” her mother-in-law said prissily, wrinkling her nose as though she could smell the rot of the cabin they intended to build.
Just telling people they were quitting their jobs and moving to an island in Maine had set off a furious discussion as everyone jumped in to explain to them how impractical it was. Apparently, they had lost their minds, were too foolish to have made such an important decision, and they were going to freeze to death on this remote island. They had squandered their money on this...this...impulse.
“Jeffrey, you should marry your sister-in-law, so those children don’t starve to death,” Mrs. Whiting said to her unmarried son.
Jeff looked horrified at the idea, but his mother was relentless. She checked up on Marion constantly to make sure she hadn’t slipped out in the dark of night. She was alarmed to see the women packing up their apartment. She didn’t know they were putting things into storage until they could bring them to Maine.
Barbara was receiving guilt trips from her own mother, who worried that her dutiful daughter would go beyond her reach. Barbara had finally stopped taking her phone calls to avoid her. She had found a five-foot by eight-foot enclosed trailer that they were methodically packing with things they were taking. They had considered renting one of those trailers offered by a new company that had sprung up across America called U-Haul, but in the end, they had decided they needed their own trailer, and owning made a lot more sense than renting.
The only ones enthused with the move were the children and their babysitter, Amy. “Can I come?” Amy asked, enviously, her own son on her hip. She babysat to make money to supplement the money her husband sent from overseas. He had decided to stay on when the reconstruction began in Europe. Secretly, she suspected he was sleeping with the locals and preferred not to come home to his responsibilities. She made extra money by watching other women’s children while they worked, but that had dwindled as more women were now leaving the factories and the mills and staying home to raise their children.
“We have nowhere to stay yet but maybe by summer,” Barbara told her, understanding her desire to get away from the small apartments they lived in and start over elsewhere.
Selling the Packard had proven amazingly harder than the Ford, which people seemed to want. It was a piece of rusted out junk that Barbara’s husband had left her, but she was relieved when it was gone and they shopped for and found a sturdy, four-door truck that could pull the trailer they had purchased. Slowly, trip by trip after work at night, they took cartons and furniture to the storage unit they had rented, making sure everything was up on pallets in case something happened while they were away. They told no one about this unit, suddenly worrying that their families would try to intervene. They already knew they were being watched, and it made them both feel very uncomfortable.
“I think this is very selfish of you, Barbara. Who is going to care for me in my old age if you aren’t here? And that’s my only grandson you’re taking with you to the wilds of Vermont!” her mother told her, working on the guilt trip.
“It’s Maine, Mother. There are no islands in Vermont,” That she knew of, she silently added, not wishing to argue.
“Can I come?” Barbara’s brother, Brent asked when their mother was out of hearing.
She smiled, hugged him for understanding her need to get away and said, “We don’t even have a building up there. Maybe someday, you can bring Mom for a visit?”
“I wouldn’t want to leave the island. She is going to be impossible with you gone. Just in the time you were up there, she couldn’t stop talking about how irresponsible it was for you to take a vacation. I think she wants the money from the sale of your house,” he confided warningly.
“Well, she can’t have it. How do you think I paid for the island with Marion?” she whispered.
“What are you two whispering about?” their mother interrupted, suspicious. That ended any conversation Brent and Barbara could have had. Still, he slipped away after school to help the women move the heavier furniture into their trailer, and Marion and Barbara struggled together to put it into storage.
“We have to get camping equipment as well as tools,” Marion told Barbara as they finished up their packing.
“I don’t want this,” she indicated the ugly bedroom set she had gotten from her in-laws. The two women had been using it to sleep on, but it was too dark and depressing, and she certainly didn’t want it in their new home. She had never understood why her in-laws felt that she and her husband would want separate, but matching beds.
They sold what they could to random people and the furniture dealer, who was eager to take things off their hands as they sorted through what they wanted to keep, sell, or store.
“Do you think we should sell this?” Marion indicated the push lawnmower that she kept at her in-laws. She was taking back some things
they had taken from her house when she sold it. These things were hers and Brian’s, and she could now sell some of it. She knew they would need the money.
“Bring it. We are going to need a lawnmower, and it doesn’t take gas,” Barbara suggested.
“Mommy, what if Daddy can’t find us after we move?” Marion’s little girl asked as she watched in consternation as some of her daddy’s things disappeared.
“Sweetie,” Marion pulled her close, so they could look in each other’s matching, cornflower-blue eyes. “I explained that Daddy went off to war, do you remember?” She waited for the little girl to nod before she continued. “Daddy died over there, defending our country. He was a brave man,” she said patriotically, making sure her little girl and little boy, who was also listening proudly, had a reason to admire the man they would forget. They’d known him for such a short time, and now, they only had pictures of him. She had made sure to pack pictures to bring along, but the majority were going into storage for now until they had more room. “He won’t have to find us. He’s with us always,” she said, tapping the girl’s chest over her heart. “Always remember, he’s inside of you and watching out for you from above,” she pointed to heaven. The little girl nodded earnestly.
“Is Richard coming with us?” Brian junior asked, worried. He had never had a brother but living with his mother’s best friend and her son had been like having a best friend around all the time. It had been nice to have his friendship after finding out their father had died.
An Island Between Us Page 3
