Sleeping with the Frenemy

by KT Grant

  “You looked so beautiful and peaceful sleeping.” Bridgette brushed her lips against Deborah's, only to keep them still for a moment, then letting go.

  “You have a great way with words,” Deborah said and rubbed one of Bridgette's curls between her fingers.

  Bridgette stared intently at Deborah's face. She wanted to tell Deborah how special she thought her to be, but held back, since she had issues with that description, thanks to her bitch of a wife.

  “Now who's the one thinking too hard?” Deborah asked and swiped her finger down Bridgette's cheek.

  “It looks like we both have a lot of things on our minds,” Bridgette said, not failing to notice the lines straining Deborah's forehead.

  “I was thinking how when I was little and woke up scared in the middle of the night, my Mom would stay with me in my bed and lie next to me just as we're doing now.”

  Bridgette lifted an eyebrow over Deborah's admission. “I remind you of your mother?”

  Deborah covered her mouth with a hand and giggled. “Not at all. What I'm feeling for you is far from that.”

  Bridgette gave Deborah's chest a quick glance. Her nipples grew hard before her eyes. And what are your feelings for me?

  Before she leaned over to give Deborah a kiss that would lead to them both rolling around on the bed and getting sweaty, Deborah nibbled on her thumbnail and looked out the window. “I miss my Mom so much.”

  “Why don't you give her a call to see how she's doing? I bet she'd love to hear your voice.”

  “I-I don't think I can. I'm too scared to call her and find out if…” Deborah swallowed and shook her head. Her eyes grew bright with unshed tears. “It's not safe. I can't take the chance that the call may be traced.”

  Bridgette thought Deborah was overreacting, but didn't speak up about it. She brushed a hand over Deborah's head. “What if we go out for a bite to eat? I know this great barbeque place two hours east of here if you don't mind the drive. There's bound to be a pay phone around. You can use one of those to make your call. Even if the call could be traced, it would lead back to there and nowhere near here. What do you say?”

  The way Deborah chewed on her nail and remained quiet made Bridgette antsy. She sat up and tapped her fingers on her knee. Deborah dropped her hand away from her mouth.

  “I'd need to take a shower first.”

  “How about I join you?” Bridgette asked.

  Deborah snickered and knelt on the bed, wrapping her arms around Bridgette's shoulders. “That sounds like an excellent plan. But first I have a small problem that needs to be taken care of.”

  “And what would that be?” Bridgette asked as she cupped Deborah's breasts and rolled her thumbs over her aroused flesh.

  “I need you to take care of my small problem regarding my nipples. I really can't be seen in public like this,” Deborah said with mock repulsion and drifted her mouth over Bridgette's.

  Bridgette fell on top of Deborah and gladly welcomed her kisses. They spent the next hour or so kissing and touching until they took a shower that led them to washing one another thoroughly. By the time they got into Bridgette's car to take the two-hour drive to dinner, the rain had stopped and the sky had cleared.

  When they reached their destination, Bridgette made sure Deborah ate, even though she kept shifting in her seat and bit her nails more than her food. When they finished their dinner and found a pay phone, Bridgette held Deborah close as she called her mother.

  The night didn't end with happy tears on Deborah's end from hearing her mother's voice, but sobs of anguish and grief as she was told about her mother's passing away a few weeks ago.

  Bridgette drove back with a silent and morose Deborah until they arrived back in Woodberry Creek, where Bridgette made Deborah spend the night in bed, holding and comforting her, much like Deborah's mother did when she was a child.

  When Deborah fell to sleep with tears marking her pale cheeks, Bridgette promised she would do whatever she could to make certain Deborah was never hurt again by anyone, even if it meant putting her own life on the line.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The pictures fell from Genevieve's hands as she growled low in her throat. Berlinoz stood with his arms crossed, a blank look on his face as she dug her heel into the black-and-white pictures of her cheating, lying twat of a wife kissing another woman.

  Red filled her vision and she cursed loudly, turning away and facing the swirling rapids of the river below her.

  “How long ago were these pictures taken?” Genevieve asked, her voice cracking.

  “Three days ago. Your wife was easy to locate since she was dressed in almost the exact same clothes she wore to her mother's care facility. She also had a suitcase and a bag with her, as if she was getting ready to leave town. But then she and the woman sat in the park, where they had a long discussion. Afterward, they embraced and kissed, as you can see in the pictures I took.”

  “Fucking cunt,” Genevieve spat and turned back around. Berlinoz looked bored, but she noticed the strain around his mouth and how his eyes darted around. When she had told him over the phone to meet her near the river, ten miles down from where her car was found without Deborah's body, he'd sounded displeased. She expected him to question why she wanted to meet him here instead of her home. He didn't.

  “On the positive side, your wife doesn't seem to be leaving anytime soon, now that she has a reason to stay,” Berlinoz said. Genevieve curled her lips, the bright red spots growing even larger in front of her eyes.

  “Positive? What the fuck is wrong with you? My wife is screwing around with another woman, enjoying her new life without me! She's probably having a good laugh at my expense, tricking me the way she did.” Genevieve clenched her shaking fists in the air. “If that's not bad enough, my two most trusted servants have vanished as well. They helped her escape!”

  Berlinoz scratched his nose and stepped away from his car. “I understand you're upset, but screaming and yelling will get you nowhere.”

  “Oh, really?” Genevieve said as a bubble of hysteria rose from her throat. “You weren't made a fool of.” She grounded her heel into the pictures again. Leaning down, she picked up the one where Deborah and the short, stubby woman kissed passionately, and tore it into little pieces.

  She would get her revenge and make Deborah pay. Before she was done with her, Deborah wouldn't be able to walk, let alone move, after Genevieve broke every bone in her body.

  “I'm going to kill her and her slut,” Genevieve said out loud, lost in the haze of her anger.

  “Mrs. Murnay, I recommend you take a few days to think things through before you do something you may regret. It would be a shame if you did do something rash. I'll be less than pleased if it comes back to me.”

  Genevieve gave Berlinoz a haughty stare as he cracked his knuckles. If he thought he could control her by his subtle threat, he would be in for a surprise. She pushed back her hair and cracked her head from side to side, remembering to restrain herself. “Yes, you're correct. We wouldn't want anything unfortunate to happen where you or I could end up in a precarious situation, now, wouldn't we?” Genevieve gave him a smile and sauntered over to him.

  Berlinoz's stance pulsed with tension, his body rigid. Even when she swiped her finger down the front of his shirt, he didn't relax. She pouted and titled her chin up. “I've been all out of sorts from Deborah faking her death, my driver and housekeeper running away in the middle of the night and not having any time to relieve my frustrations, if you catch my meaning?”

  When Berlinoz dropped his arms and shifted his legs apart, she played with the top of her breasts poking over her silk tan camisole and moved against him. His arousal brushed up against her stomach.

  Ah! Not as immune as I first thought. This knowledge pleased her and she arched her back slightly to push out the breasts that were close to popping out of her tank. She'd worn the tight top on purpose, remembering Berlinoz's reaction the last time he noticed her abundant cleavage.

/>   “Mrs. Murnay, you're not thinking correctly at this moment,” he said in a husky whisper and dug his fingers into her hips. “Aren't you a dyke?”

  Genevieve hid her revulsion over his derogatory label and rested her palms over his chest. “I consider myself to be, but sometimes I like to have a different flavor. Since this may possibly be the last time I see you, why don't we have some fun together before we go our separate ways?” Genevieve moved her hand down in between them and cupped his cock. “It's been far too long since I had a dick inside me. What do you say? Think of it as an extra bonus for a job well done.”

  Berlinoz's fingers squeezed her hips and pulled her flush against him. His mouth fell on hers and drew on her lips. Genevieve laughed and joined in on the heated yet sloppy kiss. He walked them back and around to the front of the car as he tugged down her cami and sucked on her breasts.

  “I've wanted to mouth your tits since I first saw you. I can't wait to stick my dick in between them,” Berlinoz said crudely against her breast and lifted her up until she was spread flat on the hood of his car.

  As Berlinoz went to unzip his pants, Genevieve sat up and tugged on his ears. “No fucking yet, big boy. I want you eating me out until I come all over the hood of your car.”

  “Ah yeah, you lesbos love to have your cunt pecked on. I'm down with that,” Berlinoz said in a rasping voice and lifted up Genevieve's skirt. His eyes went wide upon noticing her in the buff and his tongue came out and licked over her waxed pussy.

  She moaned loudly as he roughly pulled apart her legs and lifted them up to give him better access. His blunt nails dug into her hips, making red marks appear. She threw out her hand to grab her purse and brought it over her chest. Berlinoz gave no notice as he slurped her pussy and flicked her clit with his tongue.

  “Hector,” Genevieve said in a strong voice.

  When he glanced up, his mouth hung low as she quickly slammed the heel of her shoe into his shoulder, making him stumble back. Before he could gain his footing, she released all six rounds of her gun into him. He arched back as the bullets hit him, no shots echoing in the woods from the silencer on her gun. Disbelief and shock covered his face as he fell to the ground.

  Genevieve sat up and pulled up her cami, tsking over the spots of blood on her legs. She tugged down her skirt, took off her shoes, and climbed off the car. Shaking her head, she walked away and went over to a shrub where a medium-sized bag lay hidden. She opened it and pulled on a pair of oversized workman boots and brown leather gloves. When she reached Berlinoz's body, she placed her hands on her hips.

  “The reason I prefer women over men is because women don't think with their pussy as much as a man does with his dick. You were so predictable falling for my guise, asshole.” Genevieve hunched over to roll the body down into the river.

  The entire process didn't take that long. She rubbed wax over the hood of the car with a towel to wipe away any of the prints she might have left behind. When she'd finished, she took her purse and the bag and made deep impressions in the ground with the boots Gilberto had left behind.

  A fifteen-year-old white Pontiac Sunbird she'd bought at a used-car dealership was parked farther down the path. Simply by dressing as an older, matronly woman with graying hair in a bun and saying she had only retired and needed a car had been too easy. No one thought it odd; they were happy to have the sale. It had been so easy to get fake identification and don a disguise to fool people, much like her Deborah had done.

  Ah yes, her lovely, deceitful Deborah, who in a day or two she would be reunited with. Genevieve smiled as she drove away, fantasizing how their precious reunion would go. Each fantasy ended with Deborah motionless on the floor at her feet, covered in blood.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Deborah lay on the couch, lightly petting Rotquel, who laid her head on the cushion next to her hip. Bridgette came around and sat on the coffee table in front of her, but she didn't acknowledge her.

  “Deb, you've been lying here for hours, staring into space. You're starting to worry me.” Bridgette's finger brushed over her forehead and Deborah sighed, hiding her face into the pillow.

  It still was so hard for her not to break down in tears, even a week after her mother's death. Most of the time she lay in bed staring out the window, or took naps. Bridgette had been a great support and spent most nights with her, making love late into the night and listening to her stories about her childhood.

  She cried too many times to count as she told Bridgette about her marriage and the fear and confusion over the abuse she suffered. Bridgette held her, whispering soothing words in her ear and giving her kisses that ended up with them naked and making love. Not once did Bridgette recommend they use toys or any other instruments to heighten their experience together.

  But the one kinky thing Deborah had enjoyed was tying Bridgette up. When she finally allowed Bridgette to do the same to her, she came so hard that she saw stars. And she never felt dirty or ashamed afterward.

  Her lips tilted up as she remembered last night, when Bridgette made her climax by simply licking and sucking her breasts.

  “I love when you smile,” Bridgette said and cupped her cheek.

  Love. What they had was too new and too soon for Deborah to feel that way about her wonderful, generous lover with the red corkscrew curls. But it was very close to it.

  Deborah sniffed and sat up. Rotquel released a soft bark and left the room. “I haven't had much to smile about lately.”

  “You did just now. What were you thinking?” Bridgette asked as she sat down next to her and twined their fingers together.

  “You,” Deborah said honestly. “And how wonderful you make me feel.”

  Bridgette squeezed her hand. “I hope when you think of me you smile, or at least you're turned on.” She gazed at Deborah's chest.

  Deborah pressed the back of her head against the couch and weakly chuckled. She closed her eyes, still tired, wondering if Bridgette would take a nap with her, when something brushed her cheek. She opened her eyes. Bridgette held up a bright yellow paper.

  “What's this?” Deborah grabbed it and scanned the page. The information listed was for a carnival starting tonight and into the weekend with rides, food, and crafts. She glanced back at Bridgette in confusion.

  “We should go.”

  Deborah put the flier on Bridgette's lap and rubbed her hands over her face. “I'm not really up to it—”

  “It would be good for you to get out and have some mindless fun.” Bridgette dropped her hand down on Deborah's knee. “From what you told me about your mother, she'd want you to go out and celebrate your life and not sit around, upset and depressed about her death.”

  Deborah should've felt some sort of anger over Bridgette's statement, but she didn't. She'd come to expect Bridgette's outspokenness. She was right. Her mother would want her to live for herself and not drown in unfortunate memories. “Okay. When do you want to go?”

  “Yes!” Bridgette pumped her fist and gave Deborah a loud, smacking kiss. Deborah turned her face toward Bridgette's mouth, suddenly needing her lips against her own when Bridgette stood and clapped her hands together.

  “How about tonight? It's only a fifteen-minute drive. It will be my treat.” Bridgette wagged her eyebrows. “This will be our first official date.”

  Deborah stood and winced as her back stung from the way she'd been lying. “What does one wear to a carnival?”

  “You've got to be kidding me. You've never been to one?” Bridgette shook her head in surprise.

  “Never,” Deborah replied simply.

  Taking hold of Deborah's hands, Bridgette gave her a happy smile. “I'm a carnival pro. I'll help you pick out what to wear.”

  Deborah gave Bridgette a kiss on her open mouth. After a few brushes of her lips against hers, Deborah fingered her curls. “It's become a habit whenever you come up to my bedroom, we always end up naked together in my bed.”

  Bridgette tugged her as she walked over to her front
door. “I can't help it. It's a new quirk of mine.”

  “Another one? The, ‘I can't keep my hands off Deborah whenever we're in her bedroom’ quirk?”

  Bridgette opened her door and peeked over her shoulder at her. “How about every time I see you in your bedroom I can't help myself but want to love you?”

  Deborah's stomach jumped. Oh, wow.

  “Let's get a move on. We have a busy night ahead of us. First we'll have a quickie, then shower, then go have some fun like a couple of teenagers,” Bridgette commanded, grabbing hold of Deborah's hand.

  Deborah followed with a plan brewing in her head of having Bridgette wet and willing even before they made it up to her bedroom.

  * * * *

  “The lady is a winner!”

  Bridgette loved the way Deborah covered her mouth and did a small hop as the man behind the booth handed her a plush green and purple butterfly.

  “I can't believe I won. I've never won anything before,” Deborah said, holding her prize to her chest.

  For the first time in days Deborah's eyes were full of life and the strain lines around her mouth had disappeared.

  Bridgette thought she'd never looked as beautiful as she did at that exact moment. She almost blurted out her feelings for Deb, but instead pulled her in close and kissed her full on the lips.

  Deborah gasped, and her hands flexed against her waist as she placed them there. Bridgette ended the kiss with a quick slide of her tongue inside Deborah's mouth: a promise of things to come, when they returned home.

  When they finished their kiss, Deborah glanced around, dazed, as if she couldn't believe she'd kissed her in public. Bridgette put her hands in her denim shorts pockets and rocked back on her heels. No one around them gave disgruntled looks at their display of affection.

  A flash of bright light went up in the sky and red and white sparks flew overhead. The crowd around them oohed and aahed. Deborah looked enthralled, and when she took Bridgette's hand without Bridgette being the first one to do so, Bridgette's chest tightened.