Twenty-two
“We’re home,” I said as we climbed the stairs to our apartment. “Wait, should we share a room now?” I set my stuff down with a loud thud. Even though we’d only been away for three days, I had somehow gone through so much laundry.
“I think we should wait on that, don’t you think? If we want to spend the night together we can, but it would be good for us to have some separation? So we’re not going from friendship immediately to marriage.” Right. Slowing down.
“That makes sense.” Even if I didn’t like it. I was already thinking about how we could have the other bedroom as an office or library or whatever we wanted. It would be nice to have that extra space down the road.
“I’m not saying I don’t want to. You have no idea how much I want to, Lo. The fact that we’re not making out right now is killing me,” she said, and I gaped at her. She was so cool and put together that I guess I just assumed this was easier for her than it was for me. What I’d forgotten was the part about Cara being a fabulous actress who could put on a front better than anyone I’d ever known.
“I’m glad to know I’m not the only one. Because if I hadn’t agreed to this whole ‘take it slow’ thing, I would be tackling you right now.” Fire crackled and sizzled between us and the room suddenly heated up by about several hundred degrees.
“We shouldn’t be talking about this. Talking leads to doing,” Cara said, even though she wouldn’t stop staring me in a way that made it crystal clear what she wanted.
“Then stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” she said, crossing her arms and smirking.
“Like you want to undress me using only your teeth.” That made her chuckle.
“I think undressing you using my teeth would take far more effort than it was worth. Unless my teeth were razor sharp. Then it would be quite satisfying.” At last she blinked and looked down at her bag. “But really, we should try and simmer it down.”
“Good luck with that,” I mumbled under my breath as she dragged her laundry to the back door so she could take it down to the laundry room in the basement.
It was a little easier to keep my hands off her at my parent’s house, mostly because I didn’t want to get caught. My mother had eagle eyes, and could spot any sort of change, no matter how hard you tried to hide it.
Here? It was just the two of us, no boundaries, other than the ones we set. If we chose, we could have sex for an entire week and never get dressed and no one would know. Sure, our friends might be suspicious and we would probably get fired from our jobs, but we wouldn’t have my parents breaking down the door and giving us a lecture. Perish the thought.
I shuddered at the idea of my parents giving us a sex talk and followed Cara into the basement.
“I DON’T WANT TO WORK tomorrow,” Cara moaned as we cooked a quick dinner of ravioli with a spinach, strawberry, and feta salad.
“Me neither,” I said. We’d had so much happen this weekend and I still needed a few days to process all the shit that had gone down.
“I just want to stay here with you,” she said, popping up on her toes to kiss my cheek. I froze for a second. I wasn’t used to that kind of casual affection.
“Is that okay?” Cara asked as I tried to get myself together. It was a cheek kiss. No big deal. People in Europe did it all the fucking time.
“Absolutely. I’m still trying to get used to this new level of our relationship. Kissing wasn’t exactly part of our established friendship.” Cara rested her head on my shoulder.
“Except for that time when I kissed you at the wedding and then that time you kissed me while I was brushing my teeth. What was that, by the way? Were you just overcome by me sexily brushing my teeth? Do you have a toothpaste fetish?” I almost popped her on the head with my pasta spoon.
“No, I don’t have a toothpaste fetish, Care. I don’t know what came over me. I guess everything just built up until I couldn’t help myself. I had kind of hoped that you forgot about it.”
“No way, Lo. I don’t forget about anything you do.” I blushed and couldn’t hide the grin that spread across my face and made my cheeks ache.
“You can’t say things like that to me. It makes me all gooey inside.”
“That makes me want to say them even more because you’re so fucking cute when you blush, Loren.” I hid my face with oven mitts.
“Stop it.”
“Never,” Cara whispered in my ear before she ripped the mittens away from me. “I have years and years of compliments to make up for, so be prepared to get showered with them. No, not showered. Drowned. I’m going to drown you in compliments.”
“This is terrible,” I said, trying to grab the oven mitts back from her so I could hide my red face.
“No, you’re wonderful,” Cara said, throwing the oven mitts to the other end of the kitchen.
“Oh my god, you have to stop!” I put my hands on my ears and started singing loudly.
“SO, CAN WE KISS GOODNIGHT at least?” I asked later that night when we were getting ready to go to bed. Now we were sharing the bathroom, even though it was a little bit of a tight squeeze. I didn’t mind.
Cara spit out her toothpaste and rinsed out her mouth.
“Yeah, we can kiss goodnight. But no tongue, and no sneaking into my room for hanky panky.” I almost choked on a glob of toothpaste before I coughed it out into the sink.
“Hanky panky? Seriously? Is that what you call it?” I hadn’t heard anyone under the age of eighty use that phrase.
“You know what I mean,” Cara said, glaring at me in the mirror. “You’d better not sneak into my room and crawl into bed with me and then seduce me.” The idea of me seducing anyone was hilarious, and I definitely didn’t think I was going to be seducing Cara. Her seducing me on the other hand...
“Why are you pointing the finger at me? Who’s to say that you’re not going to be the one who gets into bed with me and whispers sweet nothings into my ear?” While it was true I had more experience with girls, it wasn’t like Cara was a shy virgin. This might be new, but sex was always a new experience with a different partner. A lot of the mechanics were the same. The key was finding out what they liked, and I could not wait to find out what set Cara off like a rocket. I had theories, but I wanted to know if I was right. I also wanted to discover all the little things that I didn’t know about, that surprised me. Couldn’t fucking wait.
“Because I have more self-control?” she said, twirling around and then leaving the bathroom, leaving me sputtering and indignant behind her.
“Who was the one who kissed me at the wedding? And who was the one who attacked me with her mouth at my parent’s house like, two nights ago? Who was that again?” Cara paused in her doorway.
“Fine, that was me. But I’m much more mature now.”
“More mature than two nights ago? I don’t think so.” We’d always had playful banter back and forth, as friends did, but now there was this extra flirty edge to everything and it made my heart race. This new dimension was intoxicating.
“I can keep it in my pants, Loren. Can you?” I gave her a defiant look.
“Are you trying to get me to challenge you to a bet?”
“No, that seems like a bad idea. I’m just curious which one of us is going to cave first.” If the past month were any indication, she was going to cave first, which was a shocker. Cara didn’t do anything impulsive. My spreadsheet queen.
“It’s not going to be me,” I said in a sing-sing voice.
“We’ll see about that,” she said, and then puckered her lips for a kiss. I took a moment to brace myself before I gave her the briefest of kisses. If I let myself have anything other than a peck, I wouldn’t be able to stop.
“Goodnight,” she said, leaning on the door.
“Goodnight.” I gave her a little wave before walking across the house and heading into my room alone.
CARA DIDN’T SURPRISE me in the middle of the night, and I stayed up for a little while just to make sure. Also because I couldn’t stop thinking about how easy it would be to go to her room and knock on the door. I had to press myself to the bed to keep myself still. The temptation was especially bad when I went to the bathroom because her door was right there. She was just on the other side, all warm and drowsy and beautiful.
No. I would be good. I would respect her wishes that we take things slow. It was only for a little while. At least I hoped so.
I CAME HOME AFTER CARA on Monday night, and I was completely exhausted from the weekend, and work had been a little rough for the first time. I’d had a woman who wanted a refund and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Trying not to cry had been my main battle as she berated me. At last one of my coworkers, an older woman who was basically everyone’s stand-in grandmother, had rescued me and had made the customer happy somehow.
When I walked into the house, I was met with the smell of lasagna. My mouth started to water instantly.
“Are you making lasagna?” I called out as I walked into the kitchen, dropping my bag in the hall.
“Yes, yes I am. Because I’m a good wife,” Cara said, posing in front of the stove.
“What on earth are you wearing?” I asked, taking in the full picture. There was so much going on.
“Oh, this old thing?” she said lightly, twirling so that the skirt of her dress flared out perfectly. “You’re too kind.”
“And the apron?” Over the pink checkered dress that looked like it had been ripped from a vintage 1950s closet was a white apron, complete with shoulder frills.
“You look like a period piece,” I said, walking around her to get the full effect.
“Why thank you,” she said, dipping a little curtsy. I had no idea where she even learned how to do that. “I just wanted to feel like a wife, and I figured this was a good way to start. Plus, the skirt is awesome.”
“I mean, this is one version of a wife before women had, you know, a lot of rights.” She scowled at me.
“Don’t rain on my vintage parade.” I put my arms out and she hugged me.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your fun. You look gorgeous, really.” The ensemble worked on her in a strange and perfect way.
“You should totally get a suit and then we could be an old-timey couple for Halloween.” A tailored suit did have its appeal. I’d always wanted to try one.
“I think that’s an excellent idea. You’re on.” Cara beamed and the timer went off.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to get dinner on the table, and here is your martini that is actually cheap wine.” She handed me the drink and motioned to the tiny table we’d managed to squeeze into a corner of the kitchen with two chairs. It was already set with the nice plates, a vase with fresh flowers in it, and a few candles.
“This is fancy. What’s the occasion?”
“Uh, it’s Monday? And I felt like it since I got home early from work?” I nodded.
“Fair enough.” She brought the lasagna out of the oven and I was so hungry that I almost started attacking the pan, but Cara slapped my hand with her spatula.
“It’s hotter than the surface of the sun. I don’t want you burning your mouth. Just wait a few minutes. I set a timer that will tell us when it’s ready.” She went back to dressing and tossing the salad and adding that to the table while I pouted at the lasagna and listened to my stomach growl.
“Is it time yet?” I whined less than a few minutes later.
“No. Just sit down and have some salad.” At least there was that. I sat down and started to dish out salad onto my plate, but I didn’t want to eat without her, so I left my fork on the table and folded my hands.
“I thought you were hungry?”
“I am, but I don’t want to start eating before you, like an asshole. We eat dinner together in this family.” Cara swooshed her skirts out and sat down across from me.
“Is that so? Are we a family?” I gave her a look.
“I mean, what makes you think we aren’t a family? We’re two people who live together, spend our time together, and love each other. Even if we weren’t married, we’d still be a family.” She set her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand.
“Huh, I guess you’re right. I always think of the very traditional nuclear family, whatever that means. You know, mom, dad, and two kids.” I made a face.
“I’m pretty sure that families unlike that have existed since the dawn of time and it doesn’t make them any less traditional. I mean, look at how many guys in the bible had multiple wives. That’s traditional right there.” The timer went off.
“I don’t think we need to follow that particular tradition.”
“What, you wouldn’t want to take more wives?” She reached for my plate and I got up to hand it to her as she cut a perfect slice of lasagna.
“I think, for me, one wife is more than enough, thanks,” she said. “What about you?”
“I’m still getting used to one, so let’s figure that out first and cross the ‘other wife’ bridge when we get there.”
We sat down to dinner and I finally got to shove forkfuls of perfect lasagna into my face.
“Slow down, I don’t want you to choke,” Cara said.
“I’m hungry,” I said, my voice muffled through a mouthful of food.
“You look like a chipmunk right now,” she said, holding a paper towel out to me. I knew instinctively that I had sauce all over my face. Didn’t matter. Food was more important than looking cute.
“Thank you,” I said, swallowing and then gulping down some water.
“You’re going to get a stomach ache. Seriously, slow down.” I made a sound of protest, but I knew she was right. I always regretted eating this fast, but the regrets never seemed to stop me from doing it again. Food was just so good.
“Don’t lecture me on my eating choices,” I said, cutting smaller bites and slowing down.
“I’m your wife, I’m supposed to nag you about things like that. I read it in my new book.” She got up from the table and dashed to her bedroom, coming back with a paperback. It was bright and cheerful and had a smiling woman on the front.
“You did not pay money for this,” I said, wrinkling my nose at the title and then flipping through it. The book was a reprint of some “keep your husband happy” book from the 1950s. I guess it did go along with the whole theme, so there was that.
“I was going to go through and change all the references from ‘husband’ and ‘man’ to ‘wife’ and ‘woman,’ but it would have been too much work.” She plucked the book from me and stroked the cover.
“Wow, that is... something else. The woman on the cover is so dead behind the eyes.” I looked at her again and shuddered. Cara set the book down.
“I just read it for fun. I’m not sure yet what kind of wife I’m going to be.” I wasn’t either. I had only known that I wanted to be a real wife instead of a fake one for less than four days. Still adjusting.
“Well, I’ll tell you what, I’m not going to be sitting here waiting for you to come home and have your slippers ready and dinner on the table and be wearing pearls and shit.” Cara made a tutting noise, as if she was disappointed.
“If I can’t have that, I don’t know how this is going to work out,” she said.
“Damn. We had a good run. I guess it’s over.” I went to get up from the table, but Cara snagged my arm.
“No, don’t leave me!” She yanked until I was falling into her lap.
“This is an interesting development,” I said, raising my eyebrows. “Was this your plan all along?” She gave me a sly grin.
“Maybe, maybe not. Can I have a kiss?” I granted her one sweet, soft kiss when all I wanted was something a little harder, a little rougher. A little more demanding. Sweet kisses were great, but I was in the mood for something a little different right now. If I shifted my legs, I could so easily straddle her lap.
“Don’t think the thoughts you’re thinking,” Cara said, tapping me on the arm.
“What thoughts?” I asked, feigning innocence.
“You know which ones. The dirty ones.” I wiggled a little on her lap and she let out a tortured sound.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Uh, because I can?” I said, but I got up so I didn’t push things further. That heat was back and if she didn’t want me to go for it, I was going to have to go sit in my seat and finish the rest of my dinner.
Cara took a few deep breaths and smoothed her dress, as if she was trying to settle herself down.
“This hasn’t been easy, Care. How much longer are we going to do this staying away from each other thing? Because I might die.”
“You’re not going to die and neither am I. We just need to... give each other space. And realize that we are grown adults and are not sex fiends.” I pouted.
“But I want to be a sex fiend. That sounds awesome. Wouldn’t that be awesome?” She groaned again.
“Stop talking about sex, please.” I was about to say something else, but my phone buzzed with a text. I pulled it up and it was a picture with Ansel and his totally goth girlfriend. Yes, they had declared their intentions. Cara was also on her phone because Ansel had sent the picture through our ongoing group text chat.
“Someone is falling in love,” I said, replying and telling him how happy he looked and how cute his girlfriend is.
“She’s kind of hot. I think?” Cara squinted at the picture, moving her phone around. “I’m still trying to figure out what kind of girls I think are hot.”
I set my phone down and stared at her.
“I better be one of those girls you think is hot or this is going to get real awkward.” She looked up from her phone.
“Oh, yeah! Of course you are. You’re the hottest.” It was impossible for me not to blush when she gave me compliments, even if I asked for them.
“I think you’re hot too, Care. Like, off the charts hot. You should come with a warning label. You’d melt the polar ice caps.” She bit back a smile.
“You know those ice caps are already melting, right?”
“You’re so hot you could plunge our planet into a heatwave the likes of which this planet has ever seen,” I said. Boom, compliment.
“You’re hopeless,” Cara said, fiddling with the last of her salad. We both finished dinner and then I took a shower. I didn’t bother to put clothes on in the bathroom and just walked out with my towel wrapped around me.
I had to pass Cara in the living room to get to my bedroom, and she was reading another book. Thankfully it wasn’t the horrible one from the 50s.
Her eyes flicked up from the page and then went back down to her book, but I swore her face was starting to get red.
“What?” I said, pausing in my doorway.
“What? Nothing,” she said, staring so hard at her book, it was like she was using telekinesis to try and set it on fire.
“Uh huh,” I said, opening my door. I could feel her eyes on my back. Once I was inside, I rested against the door and took a deep breath. Taking things slow with Cara was requiring much more effort than I ever thought. My skin was itchy and tight, and there was restlessness in me that meant I couldn’t sit still, or focus on anything for long. I kept constantly getting distracted. It had barely been a few days and I was already a wreck.
“You’ve got this,” I told myself as my towel slid to the floor and I stood there naked, my hair dripping down my back. It was too hot. I couldn’t even put clothes on. I was also horny as fucking fuck. Had been for days, but I’d resisted taking care of it because I thought if I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop and then people would start to worry that I wouldn’t leave my room for three days and I’d blown all the fuses from too much vibrator use.
I laid my towel out on the bed to protect my pillows from my damp from hair and decided I was wound too tight and needed to find some kind of release. I also really wanted to sleep tonight.
I closed my eyes and slowed my breathing, which wasn’t really happening. I was already so close to the edge that it wasn’t going to take much.
Licking my palm, I slicked my hand down my chest, pausing to pinch my nipples just a little. A rush of heat went right between my legs and I arched my back. Fuck, I was beyond close already. I let my mind wander, and it went immediately to Cara, only this time I wasn’t going to stop it. I was going to let myself have this.
My fingers made a quick trip down to my thighs, scraping the inside of them with my nails enough to make me shiver and for my skin to break out in goosebumps. I spread my legs open and added my second hand, stroking through the patch of hair that I kept short, but not totally shaved. Usually I took my time and teased, drawing everything out for a more powerful orgasm, but tonight, I needed to get in and get out and get it done.
I wet my index and middle fingers in my mouth and slid them inside without much further ado. A loud moan erupted from my lips and I hoped Cara couldn’t hear me in the living room.
I curled my fingers, just stroking my g-spot before pulling out and thrusting them in again, using the palm of my hand to put pressure on my clit. This wasn’t my first rodeo.
Another moan left my mouth and I bit my lip to try and be quiet. I panted and drove my hips into my hand, my legs shaking so hard they were making the entire bed tremble.
I was so fucking close, and then I heard a sound that had nothing to do with being in the throes of an orgasm.
A knock at the door.