Elaine sat in her overstuffed chair, staring into the candlelight. Her glass of scotch was half empty and about to slip from her hand. Vocal jazz from the fifties and sixties played on a loop in the background. She had the vinyls of nearly all of them, but she was too drunk and too tired to rise and choose them. So instead she allowed Pandora to do the work for her. Save for the music, her home was quiet, alive and breathing only by sporadic candlelight. It had been three days since she’d last seen Johnnie, and she’d done her best to keep her from her mind. Scotch, books, music, magazines, shopping. None of it helped. And Michael again suggested she end the sessions for her own sanity. Especially after she’d confessed what had happened at their latest session.
But Elaine wasn’t a quitter and she wasn’t ready to date. If she ended the sessions, there would be nothing stopping her from seeing her, feeling her, kissing her. They’d get lost in erotic bliss. She knew it.
And as tempting as that bliss was, it was dangerous and often led to more. Something she couldn’t afford. Not now, not ever. She placed her scotch on the end table and looked down at the photograph. She thumbed the image as a tear slipped down her face.
Barb had been gone for five years now. Five years that felt like a mere blink of an eye. The pain of her loss had not faded, not even a little. It stabbed at her, ate away her insides. So much so that she often woke at night curled in a ball, crying in pain. She couldn’t feel like that again. Lose like that again.
She was coming dangerously close with Johnnie. She could feel it. She hadn’t been that aroused since Barb, and yet she’d kept going, telling her to remove her shirt and bra. Mentally touching her. She’d nearly climaxed from that alone. And something else was happening. Johnnie was reading her somehow. Pegging her thoughts and feelings. Putting her on the spot. Could Johnnie really be that sensitive? She’d known someone like that, one of Barb’s old friends. But she’d never experienced it herself.
She placed the photo of Barb next to the glass of scotch. She rose and allowed her heart rate to catch up with her movement. She tightened her satin robe and headed for the kitchen, but the doorbell stopped her movement. It was a little after nine, and she knew Michael wouldn’t call this late. She crossed to the door and looked out the peephole. Sighing, she unlocked the door and pulled it open.
“Hi,” Kyle said, hands in pockets, tank top and jeans damp with rain that pattered in the background.
“What are you doing here?” Elaine leaned against the door, upset, but only a little. She reminded her too much of Johnnie to get angry. In fact, if she allowed her swirling thoughts to blur, she could imagine it was Johnnie.
“I was in the neighborhood; thought I would see how you were.”
“In the neighborhood?” Her community was gated, hardly a place where one would drive casually by.
“I’m not a stalker, I swear. I just—I followed someone in and saw your lights on.”
“You know this is unacceptable.”
“Yes.”
“You can’t do this again.”
“No.”
“You can come in, but only for a minute.”
Elaine pushed open the door and allowed her entry. She could smell the rain on her wet skin. It fueled the fire she’d tried to drink away.
“The living room,” Elaine said.
Kyle stepped inside. “Should I take off my shoes?”
“Please.”
Elaine locked the door and breezed by her. She waited for her in the center of the Aztec rug. Kyle removed her shoes and approached slowly.
“How have you been?” she asked.
“I don’t want you to talk,” Elaine said.
Kyle didn’t even blink. “Okay.”
“Stand in front of me.”
Kyle stood in front of her. Elaine leaned into her, hoping for the cologne that Johnnie had worn. But she smelled only rain. She put her mouth to her ear. “Take off your shirt.”
Kyle swept her shirt up over her head. Elaine took it and tossed it to the floor. “Now your bra.”
Kyle began to reach back for the hook, but Elaine stopped her. “Ask for help.”
Kyle paused. “Can you help?”
Elaine pushed away her hands and unhooked the bra. She brought it forward and off her shoulders and tossed it to the floor.
“Now,” she said, growing excited. “Take my hands and touch yourself.”
Kyle took her hands and guided them softly up and down her torso to just below her breasts, then she moved them across her firming nipples causing her to moan.
Elaine gasped for breath, leaned in, and nibbled her ear. “Show me how you want me to pinch your nipples.”
Kyle slid her fingers alongside her gathered flesh and pinched and tugged. It caused her legs to buckle, and Elaine had to help her remain upright.
“Like that? You want it like that?”
Kyle breathed, “Yes.”
Elaine moved her hands slowly up to her full breasts. She felt the puckering, the gathering of her nerves. She ran her fingertips across them, heard her moan, and then pinched as Kyle had done, causing her to cry out.
“Yes,” Elaine said into her ear. “Tell me, does that make you wet?”
“Yes. So wet.”
Elaine teased her like that several more times, grazing and then pinching. When she tugged her, she bit softly into her neck.
Kyle cried out again and again.
“Do you want to come?” Elaine asked.
Kyle gripped her hands, chest heaving. “Yes.”
“How badly?” Elaine closed her eyes, imagined Johnnie beneath her hands, rocking back into her.
“Bad. So bad it hurts.”
Elaine licked the damp rain and sweat from her neck. “Good. Now undo your jeans, slip your hand in, and stroke yourself.”
Kyle hurriedly unbuttoned her jeans, slid her hand into her underwear, and groaned as she found her flesh.
“Oh fuck,” she said as she leaned back into Elaine. “I’m so hard.”
“And slick.”
“Yes.”
Elaine toyed with her nipples and continued nibbling her neck. “I want you to get off. Right here, right now, with my hands playing you.”
Kyle moved her hand quicker, strained her body as she closed her eyes and stroked.
“That’s it. Feel good, baby. Let it all in and then let it all go.”
Kyle bucked wildly, and Elaine tugged hard on her nipples. She went over in a series of cries and fits with Elaine holding fast to her. Elaine closed her eyes and moved her hand downward where she grabbed Kyle’s wrist, pulling her hand away. Then she sank her own hand into her underwear and felt her hot slick folds for herself. She groaned and Kyle spasmed.
Elaine stood like that for a long while, holding her close, feeling her flesh pulse. Then she opened her eyes and gently pulled away. Kyle, still breathless, turned to look at her.
“Can I touch you?” she asked softly.
Elaine looked away. She sat in her chair and sipped her scotch.
Kyle busied herself dressing. “You want me to go,” she said, coming to stand before her, buttoning her jeans.
“Please.”
Kyle nodded. She moved toward the door.
“Please lock it on your way out,” Elaine said.
She heard Kyle slip into her shoes and then open and shut the door. Above the house, thunder rolled, and Elaine grabbed the photo of Barb, slid down farther into the chair, and thumbed up the volume on her speaker.
Would the pain ever go away?