Bette smiled, pleased with the effect all the carefully arranged activities she had planned for them that evening was having on Tina, and anticipated how wet and warm the blonde would be when she would finally touch her down there, later on.

She released the earlobe she was sucking to move her mouth across Tina’s cheek, then lay a gentle kiss on the blonde’s lips. 

She whispered, “T… I don’t want to hurt you…I…”

“Bette, Bette,” Tina said softly, cupping Bette’s head, as she interrupted her, “do what you want to me, baby.  Anything you want…I won’t break…”

She followed that up with a long, slow, wet kiss on the brunette’s lips.

They continued to dance slowly.

“I need to ask you something, then,” Bette said as they released from the kiss.

“Anything, baby. Anything.  I’m yours, yours,” Tina whispered, also drawing back, to look straight into Bette’s eyes.

“Do you trust me, T?,” Bette asked, in a husky tone.

Tina stopped their dance, thoughts in a daze. She tilted her head back to look at Bette, while she continued to hold her loosely in an embrace, “You know that I do.  With all my heart, my mind, my soul.  I trust you completely.  I love you. I love you, you baby, there’s no one, and won’t be, anyone else….” She paused.  

“Wait… What is it?  Is something wrong?  Something happen?,” she asked, suddenly aware something else, undecipherable, was looming behind the brunette’s luminous brown eyes.

Bette drew a breath before asking, “Do you have a code word, T? Something that you may have used with your brothers and sisters when you were children?  To, um…. keep a secret or to tell them you were safe?” Bette asked quietly, electing not to answer Tina’s question directly.

The question hung in the air between them.  The music had ended.  Everything around was silent.

The last stop in the special program that Bette had arranged for them that evening was a nightcap in the unique cellar of the George V hotel that was built over 20 feet below ground over 60 years ago.  The hotel concierge had suggested a nightcap there to Bette, when the brunette called down to reception early that morning to ask his opinion on how one would end a special evening in Paris.  Bette thought it was an excellent idea, and had called the sommelier of the hotel immediately, tracking him down to his apartment.  He was in charge of the cellar, and she needed to see what he could arrange for that evening. Hopefully, it was available?, she had asked. 

Oui, Oui, he replied, knowing Bette was a repeat visitor to the hotel, and a most charming one, too.  He had enjoyed the interactions they’d had, such as the time Bette, in halting French, asked him for advice selecting between several bottles, pondering which to give Madame et Monsieur Galliot, when they had invited Bette over for dinner.