by J. D. Glass
She had been surprised. Usually after coming, especially a second time, sleep would more than likely be the first consideration. But as the tide rolled out, then rolled back in, desire had also quickened through her once more, and this time, she had full access to Charli—body and mind.
She remembered quite clearly what it had been that seemed to turn the key: she’d paused during the round of exploratory play, a response to the slight toss of Charli’s head, the different way she kissed, when her hands had finally reached to claim Charli’s secrets.
“Do you want this?” Anna asked, remembering something else from the first time those months ago. Charli had not let herself be touched then, not really, anyway. It was easy, Charli made it easy, to get lost, overwhelmed, overloaded by the environment she created to not realize that she was in essence avoiding being touched herself.
“It’s important to you,” Charli answered, and followed her answer with a kiss and a touch that should have made her forget the question or to look deeper into the answer. Another time, an earlier time, perhaps it would have. But this wasn’t their first time together, and Anna still wanted…she wanted to reach through, to leave Charli gasping and undone, to show through the raw power of touch that this, this between them, meant more to her than the amazing orgasms she’d experienced under the body that now lay beneath hers. She wanted to show Charli she not only desired but cared, she wanted to touch essence, and in that moment of touch plainly reveal and say something fundamentally truthful underneath all the lies she’d had to tell.
Anna could, in an objective way, understand why, perhaps, someone might not notice Charli’s discomfort: she was hard, she was wet, and that was usually all the enticement anyone needed. And suddenly, it bothered Anna, bothered her greatly that perhaps others hadn’t noticed the slight stiffening of Charli’s body, the briefly visible set to her jaw, the not-so-subtle head shake that was in reality a no, that Charli redirected the focus to what was important to Anna. “Char…there’s a thousand other things if you don’t enjoy that,” Anna told her, her voice measured and low even while she still gently played her fingers along Charli’s body. “Tell me what you like.”
To her surprise, Charli kissed her again, took her hand and held it in one of her own, then cupped her cheek with the other. “It’s not that I don’t like it,” she said softly. “It’s just…” Charli took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then set and squared her shoulders as she did. Her eyes were intent on Anna’s and they searched through her before she answered. “I don’t always feel it.” Charli gave her a small grin as if to say it’s no big deal, but it was, to Anna, it was.
“I don’t…I don’t want you to do something just because you think I want it,” Anna told her.
“What…you didn’t enjoy earlier?” Charli asked, her tone teasing.
“More than,” Anna rejoined, then kissed her. “And I’d like—no, I’d really love,” she corrected as she eased a leg between Charli’s, “to do the same for you.”
So much more made sense, not just earlier in the evening, but earlier in the year, from the last time when they’d been together and Charli had asked her to—it didn’t matter, she knew what to do. She started over, her own needs more than well abated except for this one, the one that left her wanting to know even more, to share the experience she’d just had from a different point of view.
Anna decided she needed to take Charli out of and away from her head, away from the place where she measured and analyzed, and yet still have her be aware of and in control of what happened to her body.
“I don’t always feel it,” Charli had said, not I never feel it, and that made a difference, it meant there was a threshold that needed to be crossed first to get there, a threshold that—given what they had just shared—changed when Charli wasn’t in absolute control. There was a shut-off switch somewhere, and Anna realized she needed to work with and around it in order not to trigger it. Whatever she did, it would have to be slow, both steady and progressive, a buildup of the sensual, creating the right envelope to carry them both where Anna wanted to take her—and with no pressure to get there, either. Besides, they had the whole weekend before them—they had the time.
What most more immediately enjoyed Charli didn’t, what most ignored Charli exploited, and Anna took a lesson from that, paid attention to every response, every nuance of breath and tone. She would have anyway. She wanted to know, to touch, everything about Charli, before the opportunity was gone. Anna harbored no false hopes or illusions. She was certain that once Charli knew the truth, regaining her trust would be a long process at best, and nearly—perhaps actually—impossible at worst, not unless she had something truly powerful to counter it with, something unequivocal. This was her chance, perhaps the only one she’d get.
She began with a kiss, the kind of kiss she wanted to give, letting lips and tongue speak for her and receiving answers she understood. The kiss and the discussion continued, expanded, became the taste along Charli’s neck, the contour of muscle, skin, brushed by Anna’s mouth, the glide of hands along long expanses and shorter, glancing strokes that were done for no other reason than to learn every inch and to make those inches feel vibrantly alive.
Anna learned all of it, and something else as well, discovered she understood something new: Charli did not want to be—would not allow herself to be—forced or commanded, not in any real way, not in any way that went deeper than skin. What Charli wanted—what Charli needed—was to be read, read and understood, and with that understanding, anticipated. It was that simple, and all it required was something even simpler: caring enough to pay attention, to listen and really, fully hear everything. If this, then that.
And once the threshold was reached and the barrier crossed, when she knew she had Charli in that place, in that space that crossed between control and permission, she didn’t let go.
“Do you feel this?” Her heart beat with such force as Charli responded to her, the soft groans and sharp breaths exquisite sounds in her ear, and Anna felt almost dizzy with the headiness of it, the sharp flush of pure pleasure that flowed through her with it.
“Yes…I feel you.” The words were whispered, breathless; the clutch and knead on Anna’s hip, the sharp intake of air that drew past her face all combined with the feel of the body that moved then held beneath her, hot and slick and—oh she was close, so close—
“I can’t…I can’t do this…not without—” Charli seemed almost frantic, on the edge of sudden panic as she reached for Anna with hands that knew her intimately, beautifully—“not without you.”
“Okay,” Anna breathed in agreement against her lips, brushed her cheek along Charli’s. “Okay.” Those were the only words she could get out past the beat that pounded through her, knowing in that moment that this was the final bridge to cross. Her body was so fully alive, burning with crave for the now-familiar touch even as Charli sank within her once more, filled her body with the pulse and pull she felt on her own fingers, the primal sound of satisfaction that sounded out from lips she never wanted to stop kissing—all the confirmation Anna needed or wanted that this was the place she’d wanted to go, to bring Charli. There was no holding back, no further tests or hesitations, the envelope was perfect, complete, and together they were suspended within it.
Charli held Anna’s head to her own with her free hand even as her body flexed with fluid grace and strength against hers, playing the rhythm she moved to in Anna, and Anna knew the moment she came, wrapped around and in her, the gulped and held breath a more powerful statement than any declaration. Anna had no words for the sensation or the emotion that seared through her, couldn’t help but respond physically to what her heart recognized as something… This, she thought in the sudden delivery of a full understanding of what drove poets and artists, what musicians and sages tried to convey through their many mediums, a wordless eternal truth. It was a burst of clarity and light as the eternal moment held them fast. This “us” that we’re creating now, right n
ow, this very moment—this is what beautiful is.
They lay there together for a few seconds, quiet, spent, and Anna brushed her lips against Charli’s temple. “How’re you doing?” she asked with soft concern, gazing into eyes that seemed to glow, were overbright as they looked back at hers, unaware that hers shone in the same way. “Are you all right?”
“That…that was very special,” Charli said quietly. She ran her fingertips up Anna’s side, drew light patterns on her shoulder, before reaching to do the same on her face. “Very,” she repeated, then drew her in for another kiss, this one so very different from any of the others before.
“It was beautiful, Char,” Anna answered, the word, the insight, and the unnamed sensations it had left still roiling through her. We are, she thought as the kiss continued and in the next breath knew Charli felt the same. “You are beautiful,” she whispered, “so very beautiful.”
As their bodies once more fit and moved, adjusted and joined, Anna found herself overwhelmed by everything: the job, the pressure and timing of the investigation, and the emotions that churned through her for the woman she’d just made love with—
That stopped her short.
Oh Christ, oh shit, she thought, and a flutter rose through her chest and to her throat as the realization slammed home for her. Anna knew, knew it unequivocally, in a place she’d never really known or felt before, that was exactly what they’d just done. The knowledge made her want to be free, to be fully naked and fully seen, to begin to bridge the chasm Charli didn’t know existed between them, she wanted to— “Char, I have to tell you something,” she said finally in between kisses and caresses. “It’s—”
Charli placed her fingers across her lips. “Before you tell me anything, I’d better tell you something.” Sparks of gold in deep caramel eyes gleamed at Anna as she spoke. “I think…I think we like each other, right?”
Anna nodded and kissed the fingertips against her mouth. “I certainly hope so,” she answered and smiled, still very much filled with the unnamed feeling that reigned over and through her.
“I think it’s safe to say that we’ll probably do this again—preferably sooner rather than later,” Charli said and gave her a small smile in return, a smile that was quickly eclipsed by the somber expression that took over. “There are more choices to be made, Anna. And you need information to make those choices. I want to tell you something—you have to tell me if at any point you can’t or don’t want to hear it. I’ll respect that—I’ll respect whatever decision you make. But you have to know, first, okay?”
For the first time since seconds before the kiss on the sofa when she’d willfully shut it off, the Company part of Anna’s mind turned back on. Whatever was about to be said would be critical to understanding Charli, to unlocking that final door that would let her in. And she would have to be extremely cautious; if Charli told her something she already knew, knew as part of her mission as opposed to part of their association… There was, Anna thought, something monstrously unfair about sharing this moment—one she’d wanted, one she’d worked toward for purely personal reasons, this thing that had now evolved into something else, something delicate—with her larger assignment.
She decided to take her own advice. Fuck the job tonight, she told herself. She didn’t have to say anything, she realized, didn’t have to tell anyone everything she knew, or even anything at all, not really, not if there was no compelling reason to, and since Charli was innocent, there was no reason to say anything about her at all.
She felt strangely comfortable with the thought and half a second later discovered it wasn’t because she’d just made a choice, but because she had already decided earlier. For this little while, she could still be, she wanted to be, the Anna that Charli knew, whatever the consequences were. And Charli, aware of it or not, knew more about who she really was, really felt, really thought, than anyone.
“Anything you want to tell me, I want to hear,” she said finally. She meant it, every word of it. She brushed the back of her finger along Charli’s face, then cupped it in her hands. “You think right—I like you.” She said it quietly with a smile she couldn’t help. “I think I like you a lot and…” She kissed her softly, slowly. “And I do want to do this again…preferably sooner rather than later.”
That elicited the smile she had hoped for. “And I…I don’t think there’s anything you can tell me that’s going to change either the way or how much we like each other, so tell me,” she concluded and kissed Charli again, briefly and reassuringly. What she had to say could wait in the face of the intensity Charli presented. “Tell me anything you want.”
“I’ll bet you’re shocked to hear I was a bit of a tomboy as a kid,” Charli began, and Anna could hear the humor in her tone.
“Yes. Shocked. Absolutely stunned,” she told her with the same amusement as her fingers drifted of their own accord along the contour of Charli’s shoulder, an unconscious seeking of the rises and hollows she’d floated over then anchored into earlier. Her thumb found and rubbed lightly against the marks her teeth had left then, too, and visceral memory sent an echo of replay thrilling through her.
“And I suppose you took ballet and dressed your Barbies carefully?” Charli teased in return. She stretched her body along Anna’s once again, the weight welcome, familiar, her skin missed for those few seconds it had been gone, and Charli slipped her hands through hers, a sensual scrape across the pulse point of her wrists, then a scratch along her palms until Anna was caught once more and Charli’s mouth was once again a whisper above hers. “Or did you make them…surf?”
The dynamic between them was slipping, changing, and Anna knew that this was another test, a more important one than any of the others. Charli wanted to tell her something important, something that carried enough weight for her that she was certain it would determine anything further between them. If Anna let the moment go, it would be forever lost. She knew that. She closed her fingers through Charli’s and held her hands with equal firmness. “Surfing,” she said, her voice deep, then kissed the lips above hers. “Lots and lots of…surfing.” Anna drew their joined hands down and back, a move unprotested, unresisted, then shifted so that they once again could face each other. “So what was it for you—GI Joes? Baseball? Mud pies or mud wrestling?” She held one of Charli’s hands against her own hip and waited.
“Soccer,” Charli said succinctly. “That was my obsession—outside of class, I lived for that ball.” She shook her head, and the small laugh she gave as she shook her head, then gazed at a point somewhere beyond Anna’s shoulder said the laugh was directed at Charli herself.
“I thought I was so lucky—the luckiest kid in the entire world.” The words were soft, almost swallowed, and Anna strained to hear them even in the silence of the room. “My aunt married a retired semi-pro player, and Uncle Ted was the high school coach—I was all set to become the best player in the world—I wanted so much to impress him.” Charli shook her head slowly in an unmistakable gesture of self-reproach. “Stupid, I know,” she shrugged, “but apparently I did—just not in the way I thought I would.”
Anna had known—whether it was her own background or merely a good gut instinct she wasn’t certain, and she had no desire to analyze it right then—that there was a reason, a source, behind Charli’s mercurial affections, occasional icy reserve, and the desperate, desperate way she threw herself into the ocean.
“‘You’re old enough now, Charli,’ that’s what Uncle Ted told me, ‘time to learn what being a girl’s really all about.’”
Anna now knew, finally, what no amount of research had been able to disclose, the black hole of information, the mystery revealed and uncovered. But it was no mystery, it was much more akin to tragedy, and its revelation shed light on much more than she expected, so much more that her own reactions caught her unawares.
She heard the words as Charli said them, the only ones that held any emotion at all, repeated more than likely in the same tone they’d first bee
n heard in.
She wondered at the control that allowed Charli to be so apparently calm, so outwardly unaffected, because the words told her clearly what was coming next, created a sinking numbness that scorched down her throat as the beginnings of a rage she didn’t know she was capable of began a white tide burn that surged from her bones and flowed under her skin. The new insight made Anna afraid, afraid to hold Charli too tightly, too closely, afraid that her own anger—over something so long gone, so past recovering, so damned unchangeable—might bleed through, spilling white fire, then shatter the layers that Charli had built, that protected her.
Outwardly instead Anna was cool, she was calm, she was collected—she was a trained Company operative, for fuck’s sake. And she knew that if she’d had a target in front of her right then, she would have taken it cleanly out. White tide wipe out.
It didn’t matter whether or not she’d told Charli her name, her mission, it didn’t matter that Anna hadn’t shared the particulars: Charli’s leap into the ocean of trust with Anna had gone beyond that, to heart, to core, to the place where nothing but the truth remained. And the truth? In reaching through, in really touching Charli, it was Charli who had broken through and under. This woman who had already been under Anna’s skin had blown her cover more completely than any simple revelation of something as simple as a name or a job ever could.
“Charli,” she said, the name soft and round and real in her mouth, as real as the body against hers, and the blood that had eased down to quietly eddy within. “Charli…thank you…for sharing that. I know you didn’t have to.”
“Yes, I did.” Charli laughed lightly, almost under her breath, and once more gazed deeply into Anna. “I did because I owe you an apology—an explanation—for last night.” Anna’s breath caught when Charli stretched gentle fingers for her face. “I…I had to be sure—for me,” she told her as she stroked her thumb against Anna’s cheek. “Me…you—it had to be because it was something real, something I really wanted, not just…not just a fear reaction, or because I can’t—I don’t want to be afraid, Anna.”
