More than Words

by Harper Bliss

  “Hilda?” I laugh. “She’d be an excellent guest, as would her son, by the way.”

  As if he has heard our conversation, a dramatic voice booms from behind us. “K.Jo!”

  “Brace yourself.” I find myself whispering in Hera’s ear again, breathing in her scent as I do. “The gays have arrived.”

  Richard squints at Hera and me. “Wait,” he says. “Is there something I should know?” He looks at his partner Alan. “Has Rocco been keeping crucial lesbian intel from us?”

  I try to wave off his comments as discreetly as possible—I’d like Hera to stay for a while.

  “Lovely to see you, Hera.” Richard winks at her.

  “Don’t mind him,” I say. “You know over-excited is his default mode.”

  “Evening,” a voice I don’t recognize comes from the side.

  “Jill.” Hera snaps to attention—as though the headmaster has just arrived to break up a raucous assembly.

  “We’re going to circulate,” Richard says. “Catch you later.”

  “Bye, darling,” I say absent-mindedly, as I focus my attention on Jill.

  “This is Katherine,” Hera says, her voice stiff.

  “Lovely to meet you.” Jill extends her hand and smiles warmly at me as she looks straight into my eyes—maybe she’s trying to assess whether I will end up hurting her client. “I won’t keep you, but I just wanted to say hello.” She aims her smile at Hera now. “Have a lovely evening.” With that, she saunters off and dissolves into the crowd.

  I turn my body fully toward Hera. “That’s done then.” I glance at her empty glass of Champagne. “How about another tipple?”

  “I can’t believe she just came up to us. She promised me she’d be discreet.”

  “If first impressions are worth anything, I’d conclude she makes for an excellent therapist.” I put a hand on Hera’s shoulder. “I guess she doesn’t let you get away with much.”

  “She’s wonderful, actually.”

  Is Hera leaning into my hand?

  “Ah, just what the doctor ordered.” I grab a glass of Champagne off a passing tray and give it to Hera.

  “What kind of doctor are you to prescribe me this?” Hera’s voice has relaxed again.

  “One without a degree but with a lot of wisdom from the streets.” I glance at Hera as she takes a sip. I wish there wasn’t a crowd of people around us—I wish we could continue this conversation somewhere a little quieter. From the corner of my eye, I see Kristin approaching. I remove my hand from Hera’s shoulder again. “Here comes our silent investor. Lucky I’m not drinking. She can’t help but inquire about ‘some numbers’ every time she sees me.”

  Kristin and Sheryl arrive and, as expected, Kristin immediately engages me in conversation about the Pink Bean. I try to give her most of my attention, but I can’t help glancing at Hera as she chats with Sheryl. She nods thoughtfully and from this angle, with her chin turn downward like that, she looks so together, so every inch the woman I’ve come to know—serene though always a touch reluctant—that I feel something flutter inside my rib cage.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Hera

  Katherine knows most people here, which is good. The way she’s been busy talking to this and that person, tonight can hardly be construed as a date. I’ve had my fill of chit-chat for one evening and, as Katherine gets swallowed by the crowd more and more, I gravitate to the edge of it. I end up near the painting of the Opera House again and examine it in more detail.

  “How about I replace the one you’ve been looking at above my head for years with that one.” I instantly recognize Jill’s voice.

  “I think you might be too late.” I point at the little red dot that’s been stuck over the price.

  “Oh well, guess you’ll have to make do with the same old abstract then.”

  “Just as I’ve made do with you for so long,” I blurt out. I’ve not gone as easy on the free champers as someone who has to wake up at six the next morning should.

  “It’s quite helpful for me to see you in a social situation,” Jill says. “It gives me more context to work with.”

  I turn to face the crowd. Even though she’s not wearing red tonight, it’s always easy to spot Katherine. “What do you think of that particular piece of context then?”

  “We only exchanged a few brief words, but Katherine seems thoroughly lovely. Very warm and engaging.”

  “To be continued next Wednesday, I guess.” It must be the Champagne, but I can’t tear my gaze away from Katherine. There’s something so magnetic about her.

  “You bet,” Jill says, and snaps me out of my thoughts about Katherine.

  This is not a date—apart from Katherine driving me home later. Earlier, I was impressed with her driving skills. She’s very assertive yet polite in traffic, which is a trait not given to many. Of course, she may very well curse like a sailor when she’s alone in the car.

  “I’m about to say my goodbyes, Hera. It was great seeing you,” Jill says.

  “You’re leaving already?” I’m a little jealous of Jill. I wish I could slip out discreetly with her, but then I couldn’t keep watching Katherine as she mingles effortlessly.

  “I’ve seen what I’ve come here to see. I’m not one to linger.” Jill turns to me. “Saying good night at these things is always a little awkward, isn’t it?” She tilts her head. “Peck on the cheek for your shrink?”

  “Go on then.” I grab Jill by the shoulders and kiss her on the cheeks—a whole new way of saying goodbye to her—but I’ve had enough Champagne to not feel too self-conscious about crossing the invisible boundary we’ve always had between us.

  “See you soon,” Jill says. “Have a little fun tonight.”

  Jill leaves me standing there on my own, my gaze, once again, only drawn to one person.

  “Where did Jill disappear to?” Katherine asks me as we walk to the car. It’s only quarter past nine so she has plenty of time to get me home before my self-imposed curfew.

  “She slunk off while you were being the belle of the ball. Isn’t Alyssa a colleague of yours in a way?” I ask. “Did you ask her if you could steal her thunder on her big night?”

  “I did no such thing.” Katherine gives a loud cackle. She slides her arm into mine. Her body radiates heat onto me. “How dare you even insinuate something like that.” She presses herself against me. She might not have had a drop of alcohol, but she must be one of those people who get intoxicated by the company of others, who come alive under their gaze.

  “I was just giving you my objective observations of the night.”

  “Does that mean you were keeping an eye on me, Hera Walker?”

  Jill’s last words ring in my ear. Have a little fun tonight. “Some people have a knack for drawing the eye.”

  “Some people certainly do.” She leans into me again, finding my ear, the way she has done several times this evening already. “Some of whom, well, one in particular I must say, looks rather stunning in a gray blazer.”

  Unfamiliar heat swells inside me. I wish Katherine would keep her distance but, at the same time, I wouldn’t mind her lips staying close to my ear for a while longer.

  “You mean Richard? That did look like a rather well-tailored blazer.” We have arrived at the car but Katherine doesn’t let go of my arm yet.

  “Deflections, deflections,” Katherine says while squeezing my biceps. “Goodness.” She rubs her thumb over my upper arm. “I think I just found something else to compliment you on.”

  “The clock’s ticking.” I grin at her so broadly, she must know how much I’m actually enjoying the way she’s talking to me.

  “Oh yes. The lady has a curfew.” She lets go of me, unlocks the car, and holds the passenger door open—another brand-new experience for me.

  Once in the car, Katherine concentrates on the road. Traffic’s still pretty dense. I trust her driving more now that we’re on the way back and I let my head fall back against my seat, enjoying the buzz of the alcoh
ol and the warm, exciting glow of sitting next to Katherine.

  “I’m glad I came,” I say. My inhibitions have been lowered by the alcohol so I don’t stop myself from saying exactly what I want to say—and doing exactly what I want to do.

  I put my hand on her knee.

  Katherine glimpses sideways for a second and flashes me an encouraging smile.

  We drive the rest of the route to my house in silence, my hand firmly pressed to her knee.

  When Katherine parks the car, I withdraw my hand. She’s a swift, confident parker and the car is neatly in its spot in no time. My bedtime might be fast approaching but, even though I have a million reservations—and about a dozen reasons to bolt out of this car—I don’t want to.

  “Thanks for being my plus one.” Katherine smiles again, but her smile tells a different story now. It tells me what I’ve known for a while. “I promised to tuck you in, so…” She unbuckles her seat belt.

  I chuckle, then swallow hard. I hesitate. I’m almost overcome with the urge to lean in and kiss her, but I’m a woman in her fifties. I don’t kiss girls in cars.

  “All right then. Come inside,” I say.

  Katherine stands only an inch away from me as I unlock the front door. Once inside the house, I’m keenly aware—possibly helped by all the Champagne I knocked back—that I might never feel like this again. As though the exact circumstances that have been created—me being a little tipsy, being encouraged by Jill, and being intoxicated by just enough booze and Katherine’s irresistible glow—might never happen again and I have to do something to mark the occasion.

  I have to kiss her.

  We’re still in the hallway when I turn to her. I take her hands in mine and look her in the eye.

  “You are such a remarkable woman.”

  Katherine doesn’t say anything. She just stands there looking so incredibly alluring, with her hair a little wild, and her lips a glossy red. I take a step closer and bridge the distance between us. I tilt my head and inhale her scent—again. My level of intoxication grows. All throughout the night, it hasn’t been the Champagne that has been clouding my judgment. It’s Katherine. With her self-assured, inviting ways. The curve of her hips. The sway in her step. How she greets people with a warmness that’s been lacking in my life. I’m drunk on Katherine and, despite all my reservations, I have to kiss her. There’s no other way.

  I press my lips to hers, only for a brief moment at first. During the split second when I pull my lips back from hers, already brimming with desire to touch them against Katherine’s again, I realize there will be no way back from this. No way back from her body heat and the promise it holds. I kiss her again. I have to. My knees buckle when I first feel her tongue slip into my mouth.

  Katherine frees her hands from my grasp and brings them to my chin. When we break from the kiss—still chaste, still exploring—she looks into my eyes and, ever so slowly, sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, her tongue flashing over it before it disappears. I forget everything I’ve made her stand for in my head. Desire explodes inside me. This will not end with a kiss. It’s like a lid has been lifted and all the feelings I’ve denied myself for years, all the things I’ve tried to talk about with Jill but could never really find the words for—burst through the opening they’ve now found. The opening Katherine represents.

  I walk us to the nearest wall and push her against it. When our lips meet again, our tongues do the same, and it’s the kind of kiss that makes time stand still for its duration. I push my entire body against Katherine’s, wanting to absorb her heat, her humanity, her very essence.

  She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me closer—although there’s nowhere closer for me to go. Her hands are in my hair, my own hands begin to caress her neck, then drift lower.

  “I want you,” I whisper in her ear. In my own mind, it sounds more like I need you. I need Katherine. She quenches a thirst I haven’t allowed myself to quench for far too long. I need to touch her. Need to feel a warm body against my skin, in my hands.

  “Time for me to tuck you in?” she asks.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Kat

  Hera leads me up the stairs. I have no eyes for the decoration of her bedroom—I only have eyes for her. I seem to want her more in this moment because of how she treated me when we first met. My desire has a certain I-knew-it quality about it.

  Even more surprising than Hera kissing me—although I did feel the possibility of it in the air when she put her hand on my knee in the car—is how it makes me feel. Maybe this is what I need to shake my old self off completely. To move on from who I used to be and what I used to do. The more she kisses me, the more I shed my former skin—the barrier I had to create to draw a line between what was real and what wasn’t.

  I used to always be sure. I used to always calculate my next move for maximum result, but with Hera, there’s none of that. Besides, I think she might be in charge. Letting me drive her was one thing—I get the feeling she won’t go as far as letting me top her.

  She shrugs off her blazer and throws it onto a chair. She switches on a lamp on the bedside table and it casts her in a seductive glow. She comes closer again.

  Here is the woman I need. As I think it, I can’t explain why, but the knowledge burns inside me like something that’s been true forever. Like it’s inevitable—part of nature’s laws.

  Then I have no more time for any thoughts at all because when Hera comes for me again, with the same intensity as she kissed me with downstairs, there’s no room for anything else.

  For the longest time, I haven’t allowed my body to just be flesh brimming with desire. For years, I had to keep my mind in charge of the tiniest act my body performed. My body was my instrument, my livelihood. And now Hera’s here to take all that away. And she doesn’t know it, she may never know it, but she does it effortlessly. And I wonder if this is what I saw in her, even all those weeks ago when she didn’t like me. I wonder if I didn’t see this in her the first time she stepped out of her bright red truck outside the Pink Bean. That I could meet her needs the way she could meet mine. It’s been vibrating in the air between us since the beginning, even when we were too occupied with all the other nonsense to even realize.

  She tugs at the zipper of my jumpsuit. It’s a bit tricky to open—one of the reasons I never wore it on the job—so I turn around in her embrace to give her better access. When I have my back to her, she doesn’t fumble with the zipper though. She brushes my ponytail aside and kisses the back of my neck. Even if I can’t see her face, I can feel her intention. Her desire comes through the touch of her lips against my skin.

  A small moan escapes me. God, I want more. I want it all. I want to unearth the depths of Hera Walker. I press my behind against her to make my own intentions known. But Hera takes her time kissing my neck, as though she wants to cover every inch of it. Her tongue skates along the nape of my neck and the hot sensation blasts through me as though she’s already touching me between my legs.

  I haven’t been kissed like this for ages. Another need of mine reflected in Hera’s. Her hands slide around my waist, press me harder against her. Then they venture up and rest underneath my breasts. Her hands inch up and I throw my head back, onto her shoulder, in a gesture of complete surrender.

  I revel in the fact that she’s so completely in charge; it reminds me that I have no responsibilities here. Not tonight. Not in this bedroom with the faint light of a small bedside lamp and Hera’s breath catching in my ear. I’m someone else in her arms.

  Her hands cup my breasts and the entire expanse of my skin breaks out in goosebumps. There might be layers of fabric between us, but her hands on my breasts like that, almost audaciously, carry me into an area of intimacy I’ve avoided since I started working for Alana. You can’t bring sensations like this to a job. It’s as if Hera reads my body, as though her hands on my breasts signify much more than an erotic gesture—much more than foreplay. She’s getting to know me, without words, findin
g the real me. Seeing me in the semi-darkness of her room.

  Her hands squeeze me intimately and my nipples push against the fabric of my bra. They burn against it, wanting to tear holes through it, wanting to be touched by her desperately. Her lips skate along my neck and her kisses are no longer measured. They’re wet and her tongue is in play and I can feel Hera’s desire—her need—for me in the press of her body against mine. Her hands slide from my breasts to my back and she pushes me away from her. She zips me out of my one-piece item of clothing as though she deals with extremely aroused women in jumpsuits on a daily basis.

  I kick off my shoes and stand in front of her in my underwear. On display, which is nothing I’m not used to. Hera’s gaze is burning, like I’ve seen many a client’s do, but this is different. I’m not the one to pounce. I don’t try to get her white shirt off her. I could try but I sense that she’s the kind of woman who likes to strip off her own clothes.

  I suck my bottom lip between my teeth again, the way I did earlier, downstairs, when I could so easily tell how crazy that was driving her, how it made that wall around her crumble. The wall may not come all the way down tonight, but there are huge gaps in it already. The first brick was removed long before Hera put a hand on my knee in the car.

  She unbuttons her shirt but doesn’t take it off. Briefly, I can make out the olive skin of her belly, as she rushes toward me again, as though our separation has already lasted long enough. Her hands are in my hair, tugging at the band that’s holding up my ponytail. As my hair cascades down, she looks at me as though she’s just spotted the world’s most beautiful hidden waterfall. The desire in her eyes is the kind no money can ever buy.

  She kisses me again and walks me toward the bed as she does. Her mouth is hungrier on mine, her tongue more insistent than before. The backs of my knees hit the bed and she pushes me down, flanking me. I sense some movement in her legs as she kicks off her shoes, then presses her warm, warm body against mine. She kisses me again, all intention and heat, then pauses and gazes at me from above. No words are needed now. I don’t have any of my own and if I did, I wouldn’t say them, because I wouldn’t want to break the magic spell of this moment. The warmth in Hera’s eyes, mixed with the desire demonstrated through her actions meeting my own, is plenty to rev up my engine some more. My clit already aches for her touch. I want her strong, sturdy builder’s fingers inside me. God, I want them so much. But I need to go at her pace. I need to give her this moment. Mine will come later because, even though I’m fully in the throes of my own desire, a part of me already can’t wait to see Hera yield under my own touch.