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Bette entered their LA kitchen and placed the groceries on the counter. “Hello? Anyone home?”
She assumed Angie was in her room. Her car still outside after picking her and Tina up from the airport late the night before.
Bette started to put some stuff away when she recognized the off-key singing coming from the exercise room downstairs. “Jesus,” Bette grinned while closing the fridge.
She walked to the basement door to try and hear what song her wife was butchering with her shrills.
Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father
Run for your children, for your sisters and brothers
Leave all your love and your longing behind
You can’t carry it with you if you want to survive
The dog days are over
The dog days are done
Can you hear the horses?
’Cause here they come
“Ohhh. Ohh poor Florence again.” Bette’s forehead creased while covering her smirk with her hand. She couldn’t resist continuing down the stairs to spy on her wife.
As Tina came into Bette’s view every sound Bette heard was muted except for the loud beating pulse between her ears. It happened so often that Bette was not alarmed when she suddenly lost some of her senses at times. Since they first met at her gallery all those years ago, her body has had an affectional reaction when she first sees Tina. Whether it’s when she walks into a room, or first thing in the morning, or even when she sees her name appear on her phone, the rest of the world just fades away. The only thing she sees is Tina, the only thing Bette can hear is her own heartbeat. The only thing she feels, at this time in their relationship, is elation. So many different emotions filled that feeling over the years. Happiness, sadness, hope, angst, lust, and even anger. Whatever she felt in those moments all flowed from the truth that she had always been madly in love with this woman, her undeniable soulmate. Bette completely zoned in on Tina, and zoned out in love.
The muffled tinging of Tina’s voice grew slower as she rose up on the bike, her head down, focusing on what looked to be an uphill trek of the workout. Bette’s eyes traveled up her wife’s body as her hands clenched, aching to touch rather than see. The defined calf muscles that stretched with every rotation. Her quads alternating in bulges with each turn. Tina’s perfect ass in tight navy shorts where the cotton clung to her round cheeks, a strip of wetness darkening the material down from her back dimples.
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Wow, that was some workout!
Love these short stories!
I’ll never ride my bike the same