by Harper Bliss
“I get it, you know.” Mia tilted her head. “Kristin is a hot babe for a woman her age.”
“You do know I’m older than her.”
“I don’t exactly keep a chart of all your ages,” Mia quipped.
“To you, we’re all just old.”
“I never used the o word. I mean mature. Wise.”
“Old enough to be your mother.” Annie smiled at Mia. “Speaking of mothers. Rita tells me you and Lou are thinking about moving in with them.”
Mia’s eyes grew wide. She shook her head. Then she must have realized Annie was pulling her leg, because a grin broke on her face. “Shall I call Kristin?” she said, getting Annie right back.
Annie poured Jane an extra large glass of wine. She held hers up and waited for Jane to do the same. “To you,” she said. “And a brand new successful series.”
Jane shook her head. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that. I’ve barely started.” Despite her words, she had a smile on her face.
Annie had to address Kristin’s question sooner rather than later. She wasn’t sure whether she should get it out of the way before dinner or wait until after. It was hard to gauge Jane’s current feelings toward the situation. But she did seem in a good mood. She waited until they were halfway through their meal.
“Mia was talking about Caitlin and Josephine’s book launch,” Annie started. Saying Kristin’s name was harder than she’d anticipated. Not because she was still lusting after her, but because of what it stood for in her and Jane’s relationship. All the more reason to address it now. They had tied up the future of their shop with Kristin’s coffee shop. They had to get past this and there was simply no other way but right through. Annie cleared her throat. “Apparently Kristin would like to come by to discuss some ideas.”
“Okay,” Jane said.
“Yeah?” Annie instinctively reached for her glass of wine. She’d much rather reach for her wife’s hand, but didn’t know if that would be appropriate for the moment.
“Of course. The woman has been banned from her own shop for long enough.” Jane put her knife and fork down. “What was I even thinking asking that of her?” She rolled her eyes. “And what must she think of us for doing so?”
“She was just trying to be… helpful, I guess.”
Jane let her gaze rest on Annie. “I’m okay with it. Are you?”
Annie sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. “I am.”
“Case closed, then.”
Annie tried to read her wife. Did she really mean it or was there some of that old passive-aggressiveness in her tone?
Annie pushed her plate away. No more food would make it to her stomach tonight. “I know I hurt you, babe. Sometimes we hurt the ones we love the most. I don’t know why.”
“Because relationships are hard. Not always, but sometimes they are. I’d like to believe that it’s always you and me against the world, but it’s not. And then this exotic woman who seems to have it all together comes along, and it messes with your head a bit. Maybe it’s just a reminder that we are two separate people, not one entity as a couple.” Jane heaved a sigh. “Especially for us. We breathe the same air almost all of the time. Our lives are so merged, and while there’s comfort in that, I guess sometimes that comfort can become a bit suffocating.”
“Is that what happened when you fell in love with Beth?” Annie had to ask. Jane had never said anything like this seven years ago.
“Something like it. Although, um, I did fall in love with Beth. And by doing that I hurt the one I loved the most also. I don’t think you ever truly fell for Kristin. You were just a bit mesmerized by her. And I panicked when I found out. And it was also the way I found out that threw me.”
“Ninety-five percent of the time, being with you is not hard at all, babe,” Annie said.
“Well, let’s not get into a battle of percentages.” A wry smile appeared on Jane’s face.
“No, I mean it. I know you have it in your head that you’re this weird creature that not a lot of people can love, but that is completely untrue. You are an amazing woman and I’m proud to call you my wife. So incredibly proud.”
“You would say that.” The wryness on Jane’s face was giving way to something else. “You married me.”
“You can’t discredit my taste in women.” Annie grinned.
“If we were to have a swingers party, I would also like Kristin in my bed.” She paused. “Although Sheryl does have a certain… quality about her as well.”
“She’s very intense.” Relief washed over Annie. They had reached the lighter part of the conversation. But she did have to say one more serious thing. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I can hardly sit here and claim it will never happen again, because what are the odds of two people in a relationship never hurting each other again? But I have learned from this. And I am truly, truly sorry.”
“I trust you, babe. Despite flying off the handle when you talked to Kristin behind my back. I trust you with my life. I wasn’t exactly in the best of spirits when everything kicked off. I’m in a better place now.”
“I can tell.” Annie drank from her wine. “You’re much more relaxed.”
“Can I ask you something?” Jane’s glance skittered away.
“Anything.”
“Do you think I’ve changed over the years?”
Annie had to take a minute to think. “Of course you have. It’s been twenty years since we first met. It would be strange if you hadn’t changed. You’re far less insecure. You have a legion of adoring fans who wait for your next book with bated breath.”
Jane waved off her comment. “I don’t mean work-wise. I mean in our relationship. Some days, you still have to drag me out the door, otherwise I wouldn’t go anywhere for weeks. I remember when we were invited to Kristin and Sheryl’s. I don’t think you know how much I didn’t want to go. Because they represented something new in our life, and you know how I am with new things.”
Annie smirked. “Maybe I didn’t realize the extent of your desire to stay home, but I certainly knew not to give into it.”
“Maybe some things will never change.”
“Some things won’t, others will.”
“At least we won’t be going to dinner at Kristin and Sheryl’s for a while,” Jane said.
“But they will be in the shop soon. At least Kristin will be. And maybe Sheryl will need another classic feminist book really urgently.”
They shared a chuckle. Annie looked at her wife, into her kind, green eyes. Everything else might change, but those eyes would always remain the same. And Annie would continue to lose herself in them.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Annie lay with her head in Jane’s lap. Jane ran her fingers through her wife’s hair. They’d made it through this rather swiftly, and in one piece. They still had each other. They would always have each other to blunder through life with. Her thoughts returned to the question she had asked Annie earlier, about whether she had changed. Because Jane had always believed that when they’d met, Annie had already been a much more fully-formed person than Jane was. That she had the advantage of age and experience, which had most certainly drawn Jane to Annie. As though she had craved Annie’s wisdom, wished to absorb it so she could fast-track her own path to maturing. But of course it didn’t work that way. Jane had to make her own mistakes and learn from them. And she had.
Now here she sat, on the cusp of middle age, signs of it visible everywhere. She hadn’t gone to the doctor yet to get the official diagnosis, to get it spelled out to her on a piece of paper that showed the changes in her blood, but she felt it. She was half-way through this life. Even though statistically that was a very optimistic way of looking at it. Realistically, she could die tomorrow, in two months, or in fifty years. It was more the sense of mortality it gave her. She’d read often enough that sixty was the new forty. She’d even come across articles in respected newspapers declaring that, these days, seventy was really the new forty. Jane wasn’t so sure
of all of that. All she really knew was her own reality. Her own mood swings, which she could never be certain were caused by altered hormone levels or just by sheer frustration with life.
“You’re lost in thought,” Annie said. Jane knew that was Annie’s way of asking her what she was thinking.
“Just pondering this whole menopause business.”
“I’m living proof that the whole business is, if not pleasant, at least survivable.” Annie smiled up at her.
“When you went through it, you made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal at all.”
“Because for me it wasn’t.”
“I think for me it might be a slightly bigger deal.” Jane kept stroking Annie’s hair.
“Tell me all the ways in which it’s a big deal for you then.”
Jane shrugged. “You know.”
“No, babe, come on. Tell me. Use your words.”
“You know I don’t explain things well.”
“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. Besides, I’m excellent at reading between the lines, so to speak.”
Jane sighed. She couldn’t deny Annie’s request to at least try. Not when she was looking up at her like that, her face so open, her demeanor so inviting. “I don’t think I’ve reached the existential part just yet. I’m saving that for later.” Jane half-smiled. “I just, er, think that the low libido thing has thrown me.” Because Annie was lying in her lap it wasn’t easy to avoid her gaze, but at least Jane could look away herself. “Even when I, er, masturbate, not a lot happens. Even if I do reach some sort of a climax, it doesn’t feel very climactic. It’s just not very satisfying anymore.”
“Have you tried different techniques?” It sounded as though Annie was doing her very best to keep her voice steady.
Jane giggled. She wasn’t very adept at conversations like these. “I don’t really have an array of techniques to fall back on.”
“My guess is it’s not really a matter of technique, anyway. It sounds more like a matter of arousal. You may need more time than you used to, and more stimulation.”
“Because I’m drying up, mentally and physically.” Jane had to suppress a pout, even though it was meant as a joke.
“There are remedies for both.” Annie was still being serious, while Jane was more than ready to start chuckling about this. But maybe she should try to stick to conversations like this longer, without trying to laugh them away when things got a little harder to articulate.
“Maybe.” Or maybe there was only one way to find out whether Jane still had earth-shattering climaxes in her. And maybe she needed her wife to give them to her. She glanced down at Annie again. Maybe it was time she instigated intimacy, not only to ascertain she was still capable of powerful orgasms, but also—and even more so—because, in that moment, she really wanted her wife.
Her one hand was still stroking Annie’s hair. She let the other one run down Annie’s arm, until her fingers reached Annie’s. She linked her fingers with Annie’s and brought Annie’s hand to her mouth and pressed a kiss on her palm.
“How about we try some of those remedies right now?” She looked straight into Annie’s eyes.
The previous time they had tried to do this kept popping up in Jane’s mind. They’d gone too quickly, rushed into it. This might have worked for Jane—for both of them—once, but that time seemed to have passed. They had to take their time. And Jane needed to have Annie first. At least she could be fairly certain that would arouse her—it had never failed to do so before.
She led Annie into their bedroom. When they stood in front of the bed, Annie pulled her close, and asked, “Do you want to watch something? Or I could read you something… spicy.”
Was Annie nervous as well? Was she afraid she didn’t have it in her anymore to get her wife off? What that must do to her. How it must shake her usually unshakable confidence. But they had the advantage of the years behind them in that moment. Of hundreds of shared climaxes. Nothing was really riding on this one. Not really. Yet, the atmosphere between them kind of hinted that it did. Jane thought it best to reassure her wife.
“I think I will be fine without, but thanks for offering.” She inched closer and kissed Annie on the lips. “Let’s take our clothes off.”
“I want to undress you,” Annie said. “Even though you look really scrumptious in that shirt.”
“Be my guest,” Jane whispered, and let her arms fall away from Annie.
“I love you.” Annie sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and started undoing the buttons of Jane’s shirt, beginning at the bottom.
The rush of air on Jane’s gradually exposed belly made all the hairs on her body stand on end. It had been a long time since Jane had been undressed by someone else. They were so used to getting into bed already naked. They never took the time to undress each other. Married life had stripped away that small joy.
Annie pushed Jane’s shirt off her shoulders, letting her fingers linger on her skin.
“You’re so beautiful,” Annie said. “You always have been.” Annie pressed a kiss on Jane’s shoulder.
So are you, Jane thought, but couldn’t say out loud, not in that moment, because Annie’s hand was diving down, finding the button of her jeans. And they’d settled the beauty debate long ago. Annie had always been adamant she’d won some sort of cosmic lottery when Jane had agreed to go on a date with her, because she was convinced their levels of attractiveness didn’t match up. At first, Jane couldn’t believe that a woman like Annie would say, let alone think, such a thing.
“I’m just your type,” Jane had said. “It’s as simple as that.”
“There’s nothing simple about it,” Annie had replied, and fixed her gaze on Jane in a way that only Annie ever could. Projecting curiosity, understanding, and so much hope for the future all at the same time.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Annie flipped open Jane’s jeans button, then dragged a finger just above the waistline of Jane’s exposed panties. Suddenly, an image of when she had first done so emerged from her memory. The very first time she and Jane had ended up in bed together, two decades ago, and Annie couldn’t believe her luck.
When she’d first seen Jane, she had been so struck by her pale, fine-boned beauty, the thought of asking her out had never even occurred to her. It seemed like the most impossible thing. They would be nothing but a mismatched pair, Annie always older, Jane always younger and of an ephemeral beauty so mesmerizing, Annie would never be able to keep up—or keep her. When she’d first dragged a finger over Jane’s belly the way she was doing now, it had been a slow gesture because of all the hesitation coursing through her. Was that really happening? How on earth had Annie gained the right to skate a fingertip over such exquisitely soft, porcelain skin?
There was hesitation in her gesture now also, but for very different reasons. So much had happened the past twenty years. They had so much life between them. Life that had mostly been kind, but sometimes also unkind. Yet, here they still stood. As long as they had this together, as long as Jane wanted Annie to touch her skin like this, they would be all right. They would make it through.
Annie let her finger dip down, underneath Jane’s waistband, just for a quick, irreverent touch of her still golden-colored hair down there. Perhaps that had been the greatest shock of all that first time. When Annie had tugged down Jane’s panties, the way she was about to now, and she had discovered a tangle of the most exquisitely blonde-red hair. And of course Annie should have seen it coming, yet it had taken her by surprise nonetheless because she had never seen such a thing before in her life. It had proceeded to arouse her to embarrassing levels and when, a decade later, it had become fashionable to shave or at the very least trim pubic hair to some silly standard a women’s magazine had set, Annie had begged Jane to not give in. Thank goodness Jane wasn’t much for following any trends at all. And every time Annie clasped eyes on Jane’s golden-hued bush, she thought of it as a present just for her.
Even after all these yea
rs she still relished the moment she would pull those panties down and the surge of arousal it would unleash in her. But it wasn’t Annie’s levels of arousal that posed a problem—not tonight and not any time before. Annie’s task was to drive Jane so wild, there was no other choice but to have it end with an obliterating climax. It wasn’t so much that Annie felt like she had something to prove. She could do all the stroking, caressing, and arousing she wanted. But none of it would allow her to get inside Jane’s head and open her mind to the possibility of many future orgasms. Not if Jane failed to see it that way.
Annie started pushing Jane’s jeans down. Jane gave her a hand and then stood in front of her in her underwear. Just as Annie wanted her, for now.
Annie proceeded to quickly strip down to her bra and panties as well. It was the only urgency she felt she could display tonight. In stripping for Jane. Letting her growing desire shine through. It was already beating in her blood, flushing her cheeks, pulsing underneath her skin. Annie needed this as much as Jane did.
A wedge had been driven between them the past few weeks, and they hadn’t come together like this for too long. They needed this to set things right. To blow off steam and equalize. To narrow the gap between them to nothing—to the nothingness of the space between their skin when they embraced.
They crawled onto the bed and faced each other.
“Hey,” Jane said.
“Hey,” Annie mirrored, as was their habit. A sort of solemn acknowledgment that this was going to happen. They’d cleared the first hurdle they often fell at. They were in bed together with only one thing on their minds.
Jane ran a fingertip over Annie’s upper arm and Annie broke out in goosebumps. Jane’s finger reached Annie’s shoulder and hooked underneath her bra strap, tugging it down.
