Sometimes Quickly

by Anne Laughlin

  “What can I say? You’ve caught me watching you from the street. I can only imagine what you think of that.” Morgan felt mortified.

  “I think it says that you care about me,” Laura said. “And I’m not sure I deserve that. But I’ve missed you. In every brain cell not occupied by my work crisis, I was thinking of you. I was sure I’d blown it.”

  Morgan was having difficulty taking all this in. She hadn’t lost Laura. She followed her into the house, turning to lock the front door behind her. The foyer was dark and there were no lights on downstairs. When she turned back, she found Laura right there, coming into her arms, holding her tightly. “I didn’t know what to do, Laura. I was so afraid you’d ended things before they got started.”

  “I know,” Laura murmured in Morgan’s shoulder. She raised her head and moved a lock of hair behind her ear and brushed her thumb along her cheekbones. “Tell me you missed me, Morgan.”

  Morgan kissed her. A deep, hungry kiss. She drew Laura as close to her as possible. She felt her body beneath her loose clothing. She moved them backward until Laura was against a wall, and still the kiss wasn’t broken. When Laura finally moved away and gasped for breath, Morgan reached for the bottom of her T-shirt and drew it over her head, her lips immediately finding a nipple, her hands holding both breasts as she moved from one to the other. Her head was roaring with relief, with devotion, with arousal. And through the roaring, she could hear Laura moan. She saw her head against the wall, moving from side to side. Morgan sank to her knees, pulling Laura’s sweatpants down with her, lifting one of her feet free and moving quickly between her legs. With her mouth she found her wet, ready, exquisitely sensitive. When she touched her tongue to her, when she slid her hand up and entered her, Laura’s moans turned to a hoarse scream as she soon came, clamping Morgan’s hand inside her. Slowly, Morgan withdrew, resting her forehead against Laura’s belly.

  “Yeah, I missed you,” she said.

  Chapter Nine

  Tuesday, January 6, 2015

  Peg and Allison lay in bed in Allison’s house, discussing Peg’s plan to go to her gym early the next morning, something she’d done religiously before she’d met Allison. They were cooling down after their umpteenth orgasm. Peg had long ago lost count. She’d had no idea she was capable of so many. It’d been so long since she’d felt real desire, and never had it been anything like this. She needed to stay in shape just to keep up the pace.

  “Darling, you sound a little obsessive about exercise.” Allison talked to the ceiling as they lay side by side. “Clearly, we’re getting a workout tonight. Doesn’t that count toward this quota of yours?” She rolled onto her side and placed soft kisses up and down Peg’s throat. “Consider it cross-training.”

  “You don’t have to come in the morning if you don’t want to,” Peg said. She moved Allison onto her back and looked down at her. She was in love with her. The idea came to her as immutable fact, like the sun will rise and the world is round.

  “I don’t want to come tomorrow morning. I want to come now,” Allison pouted.

  “God, I knew you were going to say that.”

  Allison looked up at Peg, a smile at the corner of her lips. “In our short time together…”

  “It’s been over a month,” Peg said.

  “As I said, in our short time together, have I become that predictable?” She closed her eyes as Peg lowered her mouth to her breast.

  “You’re very predictable. I know with certainty that when I do this”—she took a nipple between her teeth, and Allison moaned—“you do that.”

  Allison laughed. “And?”

  “And when I do this”—Peg spread Allison’s legs and laid a finger against her. Allison moaned louder—“you do that.”

  “So you can basically just phone this in, is that what you’re telling me?” Allison smiled, watching as Peg teased her.

  “Phoning it in is a whole different thing, of course, as I think you’ll recall from my most recent trip to New York.” Peg was now on her left elbow, kissing Allison’s breast as she started to explore her more urgently below.

  “I do recall that phone call. Quite vividly in fact. But I didn’t think it was at all predictable, did you?”

  “Predictable, yes. I knew exactly where I was leading you, and I wasn’t disappointed. But not boring. You’re never that. I don’t want you to misunderstand.”

  “I think I’m understanding you clearly.” Allison had started to squirm as the pressure from Peg’s hand began to build.

  Peg pulled her hand away. “For instance, on the phone when I said this”—she leaned over and whispered in Allison’s ear—“you did this.” She moved Allison’s hand to where her own had just been.

  “I most certainly did.” Allison touched herself, keeping hold of Peg’s eyes.

  “What did you do then?” Peg asked.

  “Do you mean you don’t know?”

  “I want you to tell me.”

  Allison hesitated for a mere second. “I touched myself as I listened to your voice making love to me.” Allison’s finger started moving back and forth as Peg entered her.

  “And when I said I was inside you, fucking you, what did you do?” Peg moved deeper into Allison.

  Allison gasped. “I imagined I felt you inside me. I could tell you were about to come. I wanted to come with you.”

  “You can come for me now, Allison.” Peg watched her as Allison’s eyes began to lose focus. Soon she let out a cry as spasms raced through her body, gripping Peg’s hand inside her. It seemed to go on a long time, and when Allison finally came to her senses, Peg took her into her arms.

  “For God sake’s,” breathed Allison. “These orgasms are going to kill me. Not that I’m complaining.”

  Peg laughed. “No, you don’t sound like you’re complaining.”

  “I mean it. You’re like a lethal weapon, a black belt in killer sex.”

  “I don’t think that would beat Camille in a street fight,” Peg said.

  “Ack. Don’t bring her name into our bedroom. Anyway, between the two of us, we can take her. I’m sure you’ve noticed my amazing strength and stamina.”

  Peg laughed as she drew Allison on top of her.

  *

  At the gym the next morning, Peg slowed her treadmill to begin her cool down. Allison was on the treadmill next to her, walking at a leisurely pace, sipping coffee, and reading a copy of Marie Claire. She glanced over at Peg.

  “You look all sweaty and kind of tasty.”

  “I’m definitely sweaty.” Peg turned the treadmill off and reached for her towel. Allison watched closely as she rubbed her face and neck.

  “Sweaty, tasty, and butch. A complete turn-on.”

  “I am not butch,” Peg said, scowling.

  Allison laughed. “Of course you’re butch. How can you deny it? It’s not just one thing. There’re many variations on the butch theme.”

  “The butch theme? Please. And I’m not butch. I’m not femme either. Do you think we have to be one or the other?”

  Allison touched Peg’s arm. “Absolutely not. But I do feel a butch energy from you. I like it.”

  They made their way to the locker room. “I like butches. It’s not that. I just never thought of myself being one,” Peg said.

  Allison smiled and stayed silent. They finished dressing and walked to the parking lot of the club. Peg took Allison’s keys and moved to the driver’s side.

  “Are you busy tonight? I’d like to take you out to dinner,” Peg said.

  “Just say where and when.”

  “How about the Everest Room?”

  Allison’s eyes widened. “This sounds serious. I’ll have to figure out what to wear.”

  Peg smiled. “I’m sure you’re up to the task.”

  Peg pulled into Allison’s garage, her Prius parked in the other space. She was here almost all the time. It was simply fiction that they weren’t living together, and she wondered if she should ask Allison to make it official. She
knew a month together wasn’t long, but they were old enough to know what they wanted. She hoped. Maybe she’d ask her over dinner.

  *

  Allison put down her menu and took up her glass of wine. “I’m having the fish.” Her voice had an exaggerated finality to it. She looked around the elegant room. Peg could see her studying the dishes on the neighboring tables. She had asked their server twice what others were eating.

  “What do you really want?” Peg asked.

  “In all honesty, I want the lamb chops. But I’m sure the fish is very good.”

  “I bet you’re thinking the fish has fewer calories, is better for you, and will make you feel virtuous. You should have what you want,” Peg said.

  Despite making her decision, Allison was still staring at the menu. “Peg, you have formidable lawyering skills, but it’s not wise to go down this path with me. Arguing me into a sensible approach to food is a losing battle.” Peg started to interrupt, but Allison raised her hand. “I don’t want us to be having the same discussion when we’re old and poring over Denny’s Early Bird Special menu.”

  The only thing Peg heard was the two of them would be growing old together. “I’ll have the lamb chops, then.”

  They gave their order. “You look fantastic, by the way,” Peg said.

  “I do?” Allison looked down at herself as if she’d never seen her body before. “Do you mean right now?”

  “Always. Every time I see you, something in me lights up.”

  Allison’s eyes shone as she held Peg’s gaze. “Yes, me too. Lights up and blinks like Christmas lights.” She took another sip of her wine. “Does it bother you that I’m having this wine?”

  Peg smiled and reached for Allison’s hand. “I want you to believe me when I say this. It absolutely does not bother me that you enjoy a glass of wine. I’ve never seen you drunk, you never seem to have more than one glass, and sometimes you leave half of that untouched. You’re one of those people an alcoholic doesn’t understand. We’d no more leave half a drink behind than ski down Mt. Everest. You use the product as intended. I could not.”

  She hoped that didn’t sound like a speech. Allison was very supportive of her sobriety, but it could be a little tedious to people not in AA. Peg knew she could talk about drinking and recovery all day. One almost killed her, the other kept her alive.

  “So you don’t look at me when the glass is to my lips and wish you could have one too?” Allison said. She was very serious.

  “I might have in my early years of sobriety, but it’s been seventeen years. It doesn’t bother me now. But I’m careful what I’m around. Once a drunk always a drunk.”

  “Peg, you’re not a drunk.”

  “I was definitely a drunk, and for a long time. Now I’m a recovering drunk.”

  Allison squeezed Peg’s hand. “All I see is a very sexy, very together woman who takes care of herself, and that includes telling me when being around alcohol is uncomfortable, right?”

  “Right.”

  They ate their meal and chatted about nothing and everything. The dessert menu arrived while their coffee was served. Allison held her menu in both hands and appeared to be studying for the LSAT. Then she turned it face down. “Nothing for me, thanks.” Peg was going to order a dessert so that Allison could share, but decided to be supportive of her food choices. Food was Allison’s issue, drink was Peg’s.

  “So,” Peg said, stirring her coffee, adding a precise amount of cream. Allison looked at her expectantly. “We’ve talked about what we aren’t going to be discussing in old age, but we skipped right over what getting there looks like.”

  Allison’s smiled. “You’re right.”

  Peg waited for Allison to say something more. She couldn’t believe how nervous she felt. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

  Allison smiled. “I’m not going to put words in your mouth. I want to hear what you want to say, not what I hope you’ll say.”

  “Fair enough.” She stirred her coffee some more, fiddled with the packet of sugar. Finally, she said, “I can’t believe how jittery I feel. I’ve never asked a woman to live with me before. I’m pretty damn old to have never lived with a lover, but I’ve never loved anyone the way I do you.” She smiled gamely, encouraged by the warmth in Allison’s eyes, the excitement. “I may be a bad bet altogether, and possibly a terrible roommate, but I want us to share a home together. To make a life together.”

  Allison gazed at Peg. “I believe you’ve obliterated my ability to speak. But the short answer is yes.” She leaned over the table and kissed Peg on the lips. “Let’s get home so I can give you the long answer.”

  *

  Tim stood on the balcony of his condo, shivering in the cold as he looked out over Belmont Harbor, lit by a full moon, gorgeous even in January. He was tired. He’d been dealing with people entirely too much, and he longed for a basement, a computer, and peace and quiet. Camille was becoming more of a loose cannon than ever. She was more volatile and far more emotional than usual, and that made him nervous. Who knew she would hold on to this Peg Ryan thing like this? She seemed on a holy mission to destroy Peg, but where was the profit in it? He thought it unlikely that blackmail would produce the results she really wanted—a reunion with Allison. That wasn’t going to happen. The real truth was that any misstep by him or Camille could land them both in jail.

  His phone rang and he didn’t recognize the caller. It took every stitch of willpower he had to answer it. “McNally.”

  “It’s Braddock.” The voice had a cigarette tone to it, deep and gravelly.

  “Mr. Braddock. You’re back in the country?” Tim came back inside and slid the door shut. “Your trip was successful, I hope?”

  Braddock spoke quickly. “Yes, thank you. I want to know if we’re going ahead with the project we discussed.”

  “We’re anxious to get underway. One hundred thousand up front, plus half of any money we collect from Ryan.”

  “Agreed. As soon as I receive the money, we move forward.”

  Tim took down Braddock’s wire instructions. He could hear the squeak of Braddock’s office chair and the sound of a cigarette being lit. “Now’s the part where you tell me what you know about Peg Ryan.”

  Braddock paused before launching his story. “Okay. Peg Ryan was a very young division chief at the U.S. attorney’s office. The cases she was in charge of involved organized crime. She was good at her job, I’ll give her that, but she was starting to slacken. I saw her a few times in the office so hung over she was really still drunk.”

  He took a long, noisy drag off his cigarette. It made Tim want one himself.

  “In her position, Peg knew a lot of things that were top secret. On this occasion, Peg had a scheduled meeting with a mob informant, who not surprisingly was entering witness protection. She leaked the location of the meeting to Jenna, a staff member Ryan was trying to get into bed. Two days later, the witness was dead, shot as he was leaving his house, surrounded by marshals. A marshal was shot as well, but he survived.”

  Tim poured a Scotch. This could potentially be something big. “How do you know she leaked the information?”

  “I heard it myself. A bunch of us from the office were at the local bar, and I overheard Peg talking to Jenna as I walked toward the restroom. She tried to sound like a big shot, though Jenna didn’t act like she thought much about it. Peg was drunk, but she managed to leave with her.” He paused “I don’t know what women saw in her.”

  “Go on,” Tim said. He was not interested in Peg Ryan’s conquests.

  “The day after Scarpelli was shot, I confronted her. I told her if she didn’t resign her job, I’d go straight to the boss with the news. She would lose her license, get arrested. I asked her to urge the higher-ups to name me as her successor.”

  “That’s all you asked for?” Tim said. Braddock sounded like the world’s worst blackmailer.

  “Well, that and a hundred thousand dollars. She agreed to it. I thin
k she wanted to protect Jenna if she could. She didn’t think Jenna had sold the information to any mob contact, but it would look that way if Peg confessed. I also think she just didn’t give a shit anymore. All I cared about back then was the job, moving up, getting the prime cases, using the higher position at the U.S. attorney’s office to move into a partner track job with a white shoe law firm. I threw in the request for money just for show. Because I could. It worked out okay at the time.”

  “Was Jenna the one who passed the witness information on?”

  “I don’t have proof of that. But she was a paralegal who was deeply involved in the organized crime cases. Maybe she’d set up a contact with one of the families and fed them information for money. Nothing would surprise me. Or she could have spilled it to someone else, who passed it on. The fact is that the shooting wouldn’t have happened if Peg hadn’t run off at the mouth. I’m sure of that. No one knew except Peg and the U.S. marshall’s office.

  “You’re going to threaten her again,” Tim said, “but this time you’re asking for a lot more money to keep quiet. What’s the worst thing that could happen to her if you did bring this to the authorities?”

  “I’m not sure she’d face prosecution. Maybe. It may be too long ago now. She’d definitely lose her license. I think the biggest thing is she’d lose face. She was responsible for a witness being killed and a cop being seriously wounded. She’s not going to want anyone to know about that.” Braddock lit another cigarette.

  “When do you plan to make contact with her?” Tim said.

  “As soon as my bank confirms the wire has come in, I’ll make the call. I’ll propose meeting in New York at the end of the week.”

  “Good. One last thing, Mr. Braddock. When the time’s right, drop the name Allison Mitchell. That’ll get her attention.”