Bette laughed while reveling in the urgency of the act.  She herself looked up to scan the area for directions to the stairwell.  Both women couldn’t wait much longer as excited heat was exploding within.  Seconds later, the distinctive bell served a welcome sound as their medium to privacy sought arrived.

—

“Tina?” Bette persisted.

Blinking twice, the straight-haired woman shook the incomparable memory away internally.  “Sorry, what was that?”  She felt a warmth spread above her shoulders from reliving their ardor.  Aware her cheeks had colored, Tina didn’t hesitate to look at Bette directly.  She forced herself to steady her emotions and looked calmly above the rim of her delicate ceramic cup.

“You’ll have time to get home and back to work in time?” Bette repeated.

“Yes.” Tina stuttered, “No…yes – I mean I don’t need to.  I have a change of clothes at the studio.”

“Ah” the brunette bit her lip knowingly, “so perhaps it’s you who’s used to doing this kind of thing.”

“What?” The fair skinned woman’s forehead wrinkled.

“Earlier.  I said I didn’t do this and take it that you didn’t quite believe me.”  Bette answered with a wink in her tone, “Yet you’re the one with a change of clothes at work.”

Holding down the redness that threatened to turn her skin even two shades darker she defended, “There are a lot of late nights and sometimes I sleep on the couch in my office.” 

As if it wasn’t anything unusual she tilted her head as she explained.  Her mouth remained slightly parted after she spoke. 

Bette visibly swallowed at the sight. 

God this woman took her breath away.  And she was right to a degree.  This wasn’t something entirely new.  She’d spent the night with many beautiful women before.  Enjoying their touch, pleased she could elicit clarity of bodily reaction to her movements.

But…

“It’s true.”  Before a perplexed gaze was lent her way she continued, “I’ve never wanted to…” 

Stay.  Let it last longer than the night. 

She moved closer.  To touch the blonde’s fingertips with her own.  “I don’t want this to end.”

Tina cleared her throat, relieved to not be the only one overwhelmed with the one she was sharing breakfast.   

Briefly she scanned the almost empty hall given the early hour then shifted to again face the woman who filled her night.  Looking across the table, the key to the room with sheets strewn and bath tiles still wet from their use lay flat by Bette’s half consumed glass of orange juice.  Next to it a still untouched selection of pastries. 

With all seriousness and a hunger that mirrored that of a predator’s Tina prompted, “When was the last time you called in sick?”

 – End –