by Fox Brison
Brooke and I downed the last dregs of the dark amber drink and joined Abby and Natalie on the grass. Natalie wrapped her arms around my waist and whispered into my hair, “That’s because you can save anything, even me.” Our lingering kiss was interrupted by hollers from our opponents. “Yellow card for stimulation,” Brooke called.
“I think you mean simulation, sweetheart,” Abby shook her head.
“Do I?” she winked and it was Abby’s turn to slowly turn a brighter shade of crimson. They really were an adorable couple, despite their tendency to overshare!
Nat was right; this weekend came at precisely the right time.
Chapter 4
Skye
Abby and I were in the kitchen concocting side dishes for our supper. We shared not only a love of cooking, but also our favourite recipes. Although she wasn’t keen, at all, on the haggis one I’d given her, she’d enjoyed Nigella’s Spanish chicken and butternut squash stew.
Natalie and Brooke were outside firing up the barbie, well, firing up the outdoor gas cooker to be precise. Basically they turned a knob and clicked a switch, which took the uncertainty out of the ritualistic lighting of the charcoal. You know the one, the litany of summer sang by families up and down the country; have I used enough lighter fluid? Are the coals hot enough to begin cooking? And when the flames die down and you realise the charcoal hasn’t taken, do you risk an explosion of flames that would take your eyebrows off by squirting on more lighter fluid?
We heard guffaws from the deck and a splash. “I hope that’s not Natalie.”
“My guess it’s Bean,” Abby said with a wry shake of her head. “That dog is three parts canine seven parts fish.”
***
It was dusk when we sat down to eat on the end of the dock, and, as if by magic, fairy lights winked into existence along the balustrade, followed by tall flickering flames, electric lights created to give the impression of South Sea tiki torches. Natalie and Brooke were drinking beer and Abby and I shared a bottle of red wine. The food was delicious; Brooke was a keen fisherwoman in her downtime and had caught a couple of fish that morning. Fresh trout, along with barbecue chicken breast skewers and pulled pork, we had a feast fit for…
Well fit for four lesbians and a Golden Retriever.
“Be careful,” Natalie said as I heaped my plate with unctuous goodies from the barbie, “the sauce has tomatoes in.”
“It’s cooked, right?” I checked.
“Yes, but I don’t want a repeat of Sara’s birthday last year,” she said, considerately.
“You don’t like tomatoes, Skye?” Abby asked.
“They don’t agree with me.”
“Yes, they were so annoyed with you, they tried to escape from both ends at the same time.” Nat chimed in helpfully.
“Jesus, Natalie, do you want to put everyone off their dinner!” I hit her arm. “Anyway, Natalie adores tomatoes whereas I avoid them like the plague. Cooked is okay. And now this one triple checks everything before I eat it.”
“Dawww, that’s love right there,” Abby said. And she was right.
“Your phone’s beeping,” Natalie whispered into my ear and I shivered, not from the cold, but from the touch of her lips.
Reluctantly, I turned it over and grimaced. “It’s Tess. Again.” Tess was a good TA, but with ‘slight’ (a misnomer because there was nothing slight about them) OCD tendencies, especially when it came to research. Her obsessiveness could drive a person to distraction, or the madhouse, and it was a toss up where she’d chauffeur me first; her emails frequently arrived when I was sleeping, and it had taken me a fortnight to learn I’d better turn the volume down on my phone or I’d be up half the night.
Let’s add ADHD to her OCD and potential PhD.
“Oooohhhh, it’s Tesssss,” the three of them sang in unison and cracked up. For some reason the witch scene at the beginning of Macbeth sprang to mind; all that was missing were the pointy hats and atmospheric fog.
“Okay, okay,” I shot them a scowl. “Give me a break.”
“I bet Tess would like to give you-”
“Hey,” Natalie stopped Abby in her suggestive tracks.
“She’s nervous about next semester,” I said by way of explanation.
“Tess? Nervous? She doesn’t seem the type,” Brooke observed.
I didn’t want to break a confidence, so I kept it simple. “She’s a bit if a perfectionist.”
“Like student, like professor,” Natalie said, her hand covering mine taking the bite from her comment. In the past I’d have taken it as a slight, but not from Natalie. Never from Natalie.
“So are we watching the match tomorrow?” Abby did a fancy swerve and I mentally applauded her skills.
“It’s against Scotland, so of course I’ll be watching!” Natalie took several deep swallows of her beer, almost draining the bottle. I watched her closely, but she seemed pretty relaxed.
“What’s so special about Scotland?” Brooke asked.
“They’re the old enemy. It’s like USA against Canada, but a million times more competitive,” I explained. “We were in Glasgow once and went into a pub to watch the England men’s team play… Sweden, wasn’t it, sweetie?” I asked.
“Yeah, babe,” Nat confirmed.
“My phone rang and I went outside to answer. I was just finished when there was this almighty roar from inside. I swear it was so loud I thought the roof was going to come off. I raced back in thinking England must have scored, but they hadn’t, Sweden had and Nat was sitting very quietly in the corner nibbling her nails. We kinda slinked off into the sunset and watched the second half in our hotel room after that!”
“I’d better go out for more supplies in the morning then,” Brooke said earnestly, before adding with a guffaw, “we’ll either need it to celebrate or for Nat to drown her sorrows!”
***
Three seconds into getting ready for bed that night, I was mesmerised by Natalie unbuttoning her linen shirt. It felt like it was happening in slow motion, so I stopped what I was doing and watched as she pulled her vest top over her head. Well hello my loverlies, I thought. She wasn’t wearing a bra; she had the kind of breasts where she could do that… pert, a perfect handful… me on the other hand? I’d have had to sit still all night or risked suffering two black eyes!
“Skye?”
“Hmm?” I flushed bright red. Busted. Or rather my libido was busted. However, lifting my head and meeting Nat’s pensive eyes, my ardour cooled quicker than if I’d taken a bath in liquid nitrogen.
On Pluto.
“You okay?” I asked softly.
“Yeah. You know?” And that ringing endorsement was as credible as a White House press conference. “I guess the pre-game jitters are worse when I’m not playing. I might be able to convince myself that I’ll get back into the squad for the world cup if…” she shook her head. “Damn I feel lousy. Part of me wants them to sink without me, and I feel as guilty as hell about it.”
“That’s only natural, darling, but once you’re watching the match you’ll be cheering them on like you always do,” I sought to reassure her.
“Maybe that’s my problem,” she said wearily.
“What do you mean?”
“I read an article the other day that argued if you want to be the best you can’t have a happy clappy and friendly personality. It’s the old adage, nice guys don’t win. Do you think that’s true?”
“It’s a feasible concept for some sports,” I agreed easily. I considered it more carefully as I fluffed my pillows. “However, I don’t know how it would work in football. If you’re always out for number one, how can you be a team player?”
“That’s what I thought. But…” she pulled on her sleep shorts and another vest. “Look, I’m a little down tonight. You’re right, I’ll probably feel better tomorrow after the match.”
“You’re allowed to feel down in the dumps.” I kissed her warm cheek. “I know how much playing for England means to you.”
<
br /> The night was balmy so we lay on top of the bed covers, a cooling breeze blowing through the open balcony windows. Even then I still felt like I was going through the menopause! A lone bark from Bean temporarily silenced the night creatures, but they gradually resumed their songs. No sirens, no shouting, no screeching cars. It was bliss.
The room wasn’t pitch black thanks to a sliver of silvery moonlight cutting sharply through the voile curtains which waved gently in what little draft there was. Nat rolled over, her body half covering mine. I cherished moments like this. I felt protected, sheltered. Her lips found mine in the darkness. “Nat…” I moaned again. “We can’t.”
“Why not?” She kissed my neck.
“Because Brooke and Abby are just down the hall!”
“And what do you think they’re doing?” she said and I caught a roguish twinkle in her eyes. She was about to torture me until I screamed her name.
And I couldn’t wait!
Chapter 5
Skye
I woke early, much earlier than anyone else, and unfortunately I was one of those people that once I was awake, I was awake. Not wanting to disturb Natalie with my tossing and turning, I quietly got up and headed to the kitchen for a much needed coffee. Luckily I’d studied Brooke’s driving of the coffee maker the night before, so knew exactly how to handle the contraption.
Seriously, it had more buttons and levers than a formula one car.
I was glad I took notice because I wasn’t firing on all cylinders this morning. Natalie was like a woman possessed last night, and if I was a psychologist I might have suggested she was trying to prove something, but I think she was simply searching for a connection, a reaffirmation of… I shook my head.
I wasn’t a psychologist and nothing good would come from impersonating one!
Bean padded through from the family room where he slept and wagged his tail enthusiastically. Round and round it went so rapidly, I’m surprised he didn’t take flight. I gave him a pet and one of his treats, which was gone in less than the blink of an eye. “Didn’t even bother to chew, did you boy?” I whispered. He followed me out of the kitchen his toes clacking and his breath panting. The wooden floors were bombarded by bright rugs in every direction, and photographs of Brooke’s family covered every available surface. There were graduation pictures, anniversary pictures, wedding pictures and one of Abby receiving her first USA cap. Yet in my opinion, the more telling pictures were those that were off the cuff, like the one of Brooke as a child chasing after bubbles whilst her mother cradled a cup of tea and watched her daughter with a look of pride on her face. Those showed far more emotion than any staged photograph ever could.
Bean’s nose was pressed firmly against the large floor to ceiling glazed doors, and once they slid open with a whispering whoosh, he flew towards the undergrowth, more like a greyhound after a mechanical hare than a retriever seeking the best place to relieve himself.
The surroundings couldn’t have been more idyllic. The rising sun changed the surface of the lake from black marble to a silver mirror seen in fairy tales; it was ethereal and I lay back against the lounger taking a cautious sip of my coffee, savouring the nutty aroma of the drink and the solitude in which to enjoy it. It was quiet. Not silent because when I closed my eyes I heard Mother Nature’s opus. It was soothing and awakening all at the same time. The water lapped gently against the wooden posts of the deck and the light breeze bothered the leaves on the trees; the whisper of the branches waving in the cool morning were like a thousand fans flapping in the summer heat.
The tranquillity was interrupted by a crashing crescendo of deep throated barks. Bean stood at the water’s edge, his head tilted towards the cloudless sky. Shielding my eyes from the sun, I saw what had caught his attention; two honking geese taking flight. In the air the birds were so graceful, prima ballerinas soaring on the thermals, yet when they first took to the wing they were about as elegant as a hippopotamus. A few other cabins dotted the lake shore, most of them so far in the distance they were mere specks, although I spotted a few boats already on the water fishing.
Like I said, idyllic.
“Hey,” Natalie sat down on the bottom of the lounger and lifted my legs onto her lap.
“Hey, sweetie. Did I wake you?”
“No, I set the alarm. I want to get a run in before brekker.”
“Alone?” God I hoped she doesn’t want me to go along. I exercised regularly, but was on holiday and didn’t fancy jogging through a forest at the crack of dawn, especially after the wine I knocked back the night before.
“Abby’s coming,” she said with a knowing smirk.
“Oh thank... I mean great!” Leaning over she kissed me and I closed my eyes again. Natalie was such a tactile partner and it had taken me a while to get used to her PDAs. Being raised by a bullying bigot did not make coming out easy, nor did it make affection easy to give, or receive for that matter.
“You okay?” Natalie took my hand and lifted it to her lips. “You drifted there for a minute.”
“I’m fine. So run, shower, breakfast?”
“Sounds good,” Abby said touching her toes whilst warming up. I didn’t even notice her come out of the house. Brooke snuck up behind her and smacked her backside. “Hey! Didn’t you get enough of that last night, baby?” Abby laughed. “C’mon, Nat, the only time I get any peace from this nympho is on my runs!”
Chapter 6
Skye
“That was quick,” I looked up from my book when the door to our room opened and Natalie entered, dripping with sweat. The sheen accentuated her gorgeousness better than any Bobbi Brown product on the market. I lay on the bed, openly ogling my stunning girlfriend stripping off. I licked my suddenly dry lips. With abs like she had, anyone with a pulse would be doing the exact same thing.
Biased? Absolutely.
“I was missing you,” she said with a twinkle, a twinkle I readily recognised. Morning runs and Natalie equalled horn dog and more exercise of an intimate nature.
“Seriously? Last night didn’t quench your thirst? If you missed me much more I won’t be able to walk come Monday morning. Nat!” I protested, giggling loudly as she lifted me off the bed and carried me towards the bathroom over her shoulder.
“Last night was merely an aperitif,” she said spanking my bottom.
“Ow!” I cried. It didn’t hurt, it was actually as sexy as fuck. “Nat, put me down, you’re going to pull something!”
“Okay?” She lowered me to the floor and stared intensely into my eyes, before kissing my lips lovingly. “Come and wash my back for me?”
“Always.” I adored this woman so much my cup runneth over. Natalie and I weren’t mushy or gushy about our feelings. We didn’t see the need to post every loving gesture on Facebook to prove how much we cared for one another. Our declarations were quiet and reverential. They were private, they were special and they were ours alone. Perhaps in this day and age of over sharing we were the exception rather than the rule, but we both knew we were soulmates.
Which was the only thing that mattered.
***
“I’ve been thinking,” I said, watching soap suds trickling languidly between Nat’s shoulder blades.
“Be careful, I don’t want you hurting yourself,” she teased
“Idiot. No I was thinking about how far we’ve come in such a short space of time. You don’t think we rushed into things, do you?”
“What’s going on, Skye?”
“I worry sometimes, is all.”
“What, that we’re reaffirming lesbian stereotypes?” she scoffed.
“Can you be serious?” I pouted.
Her shoulders tensed and she turned round to face me, tenderly wiping damp hair back from my eyes. “I’m sorry, baby, but you know I don’t like it when you worry, especially when there’s nothing to worry about.”
“I know… it’s just we’re very isolated over here if anything did…”
She stopped me in my tracks. “You sp
oke to Angie or Sara, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but-”
“But nothing. You always feel homesick after talking to them. I never thought I would have you in my life, Skye Donaghie, not like this, so no I don’t think we’ve rushed anything. In fact if I have an opinion I think we took it too damned slow.”
It was amazing that she knew me better than I knew myself most days. It’s true we weren’t grand gesture type of people, and every now and then I still expected to wake up in my flat in Durham and find the last nine months were all a magical dream.
I might have to change my name to Hermione…
***
For the rest of the morning preceding England’s match against Scotland, Nat was a bundle of nervous energy; she texted her closest friends on the England team and posted a good luck message on Facebook which received a thousand likes in two minutes.
I had an author Facebook page that had received two likes in two years!
We settled in the cinema room. It was already proving to be another scorcher so Brooke left all the doors in the cabin wide open, and a cooling breeze drifted languorously in off the lake. It was a lot fresher than the stale air that the air conditioning unit in our apartment produced, that was for sure.
The instant the astringent call of the ref’s whistle pierced the thick summer air, Natalie and Abby inched forward in their seats. It didn’t take long for Nat to reveal her nervous nail nibbling habit. She didn’t so much bite the nail, she put it in between her teeth and squeezed gently every so often. After ten minutes I turned the commentary off, because it was far more entertaining listening to Abby and Nat’s wise words.
I watched Natalie’s frown deepen with every dodgy decision given, and winced when she groaned, loudly, whenever England lost possession. She was so invested in the drama unfolding in high definition, that if Abby, Brooke and I stripped down and had a threesome on the rug in front of her, she would simply stand up to see the screen. It also confirmed my assertions from the night before; no matter what she initially thought, there was no way the real Natalie Jeffries would hope for an England loss, even if it meant never winning her place back. She just wasn’t that type of person.
