Bette slid the bar of her screen open to unlock the message. An image came slowly into focus: muted lighting, the cream inside lining of a small suitcase, empty but for a black lace lingerie set. A small red bow in the bust. Bette could feel the colour rising in her cheeks, the flush spreading across her chest inside which her heart was drumming with the thrill. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through pursed lips.

Tina: Black does have that classic appeal.

Bette continued to stare at the screen, fixated on the image. She used her free hand to rub her forehead, wishing she could clear her mind and organise her thoughts. Her brow was furrowed with the weight of a thousand thoughts clamouring for attention, not all of them decent. 

Fuck, Tina. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t turned on, and knew that Tina would be smirking with the knowledge that she had shocked Bette into silence. She couldn’t formulate a response that met their unspoken rules of communication, so she didn’t reply.

Shaking her hair and setting her jaw, Bette deleted the image and the thread of the evening’s texts. Just in case. She moved through the crowd towards the restrooms, trying to remember what a normal pace was. Am I running? Or am I moving in slow motion?

In the bathroom, Bette turned the copper tap on and ran cold water over her hands and wrists until she started to feel that she could regulate herself. Anything for respite from the relentless buzz echoing through her mind. She noted the dark pink flush on her brown cheeks, and held her cool hands on them. What the fuck am I doing? More to the point, what is Tina trying to do?

Bette considered herself in the mirror, the dark oak paneling on the walls matching her mood. She stared at her face, but nothing was registering. Could people tell? I could tell, if I was looking at me. It’s written all over my face. A silent testament to the internal battle raging within. Torn between the echoes of passion and a resounding voice of conscience.

Tina had always been grounded, and operated as the moral compass. She could bring Bette back to earth when things were chaotic and Bette’s fierce emotions had blurred her actions. This was new though. In the year leading up to the divorce, Tina had made quiet attempts for more dominance, to be more assertive, and that was where they clashed. There wasn’t enough room in that relationship for the two of them anymore. In their relationship, at least in a sexual sense, Bette was always happy to submit to Tina and let her take control. But outside of the bedroom, it had been Bette’s way or the highway. Tina had chosen the highway.