“Welcome to my humble abode.” Rose spreads her arms wide and gathers me in them. For the first time since leaving home, I forget that this is not the holiday I want to be on. Jenny and I had planned two weeks of island hopping in Greece—with Lesbos as the final stop—but that fell through when she told me, out of the blue, that I was no longer her preferred travel companion.
“I’m so sorry for you, darling,” my mum, a proper English lady, had said, after I reluctantly confessed that Jenny and I were no longer an item. “Why don’t you join your father and me on our annual Tuscany trip?”
I’d cried some more, messy heaving sobs kept at arm’s length from mum’s pricy Jil Sander suit, before giving into her maternal logic. I’d taken the time off work already and what good would it do to stay home and sulk in my tiny apartment? Rose certainly had room for one extra and we’d get to spend some time as a family.
The journey had been pleasant enough because I kept my disappointment at bay and allowed my parents to believe I truly wanted to spend my summer holiday with them. As if that’s all thirty-one-year-olds with demanding jobs and limited annual leave desire.
Rose spends the entire summer here and her complexion has already gone olive. I smell sunshine on her neck and nostalgia washes over me as memories of summers past swarm my brain. I was eighteen and ready to conquer the world when I came here last and Michael, Rose’s husband and my dad’s best friend, was still alive and well.
“Catherine, how lovely to see you.” Rose pushes me back and gives me a quick once-over. “Oh, the glory of youth.” I tackled most of the anger issues sprouting from my sudden break-up by spending every spare minute in the gym.
“How many times, Rose. Call me Cat.”
“Pay no mind to Miss Grumpy, dear Rose,” my dad butts in, “us OAP’s are very grateful for your hospitality.”
I roll my eyes at Rose and head for the rental’s boot to retrieve the suitcases. I let them have their moment. I know my dad always gets emotional when first laying eyes on his best friend’s widow again. It has been seven years since Michael’s fatal heart attack.
“Will this do?” Rose opens the door to a room decorated in blue and white with French windows overlooking the pool. It’s the same room I used to share with my brother when we visited as children, spruced up with contemporary furniture and fresh wallpaper.
“Perfect, as ever.” I shoot Rose a warm smile as I remember the sounds coming from the other side of the wall, mysterious grunts and groans that made Billy and me giggle during the night. Michael and dad may have been best friends but they couldn’t have been more different. Michael married late—to a woman twelve years his junior—and, by choice, never had children.
“Your mum told me what happened.” Rose leans against the door frame while I plunk my luggage on the bed. “I’ll do everything I can to make your stay as pleasant as possible.” She accompanies her statement with a bold stare into my eyes. “Let me know if there’s anything you need.” She shoots me a quick wink and closes the door behind her.
I need Jenny back, I murmur to myself, but she’s probably deep sea diving off the coast of Rhodes with that bitch Imogen. I can’t help but think of my great-aunt Imogen whenever I hear her name and it’s not a pretty thought.
“I don’t want you to lose any money over this,” Jenny, always the financial guru, had said. “I’ll pay back your share.” I knew what that meant. Imogen was in and I was out. And to think I had picked the destination.
I flip the windows open and late sunlight streams into the room. Shadow lines trace the floor and transport me back to simpler times when all Billy and I did for two weeks was skip from our bed to the pool, only breaking for sun-drenched lunches of buffalo mozzarella soaked in olive oil and suppers to the sound of a million crickets. The grown-ups talked for hours while gorging on local wine, their laughter breaking through the brick walls after they’d sent us to bed.
I’d find dad and Michael in a corner of the garden, in the shade of a big oak tree, delving into their years at Oxford. Their words didn’t really register but it was enough for me to hear them, their voices husky from smoking and their smiles so convincing I believed it would be like this forever. Then puberty happened—and life got in the way.
The pool water flickers in the low sunlight and one of the benefits of summering in this part of Italy is that you never have to wonder if the water will be warm enough. I dig into my hastily packed suitcase and grab the first bikini I find. I let my damp travel clothes slide off my body and check myself in the wall mirror. I’m in better shape than I ever was with Jenny but what good will it do me now? I’m on holiday with my parents in the middle of nowhere.
“Great minds and all that.” Rose appears in the window, dressed in a purple bikini. “A quick swim before dinner?” Safe from a pair of well-worn boy briefs—the ones I wear for travelling—I’m naked and I try to cover my chest with my arms.
“I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I didn’t realise—”
“Interesting underwear.” Rose beams me a broad smile and vanishes from the window. I see my cheeks flash bright crimson in the mirror. I scramble for my bikini top and quickly replace my shorts with bikini bottoms.
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell my reflection. “You’re amongst friends and family here.”
Rose is not a big part of my memories of this house. She only stepped onto the scene the last summers I came here, when my mind was already elsewhere. I’ve seen plenty of her in London though, as practically every family dinner included her and Michael. She stayed in our guest room for months after Michael passed away and I witnessed every stage of her grief, a display so intimate it created a bond for life. But I don’t associate her with Tuscany, with endless summer days crammed into two weeks, until we had to leave and our surroundings became grey and familiar again.
I dive in and let the water wash away my awkwardness. The last time I swam must have been last year when Jenny got into a health craze and unilaterally decided we should swim at least once a week. We made it to our local pool twice.
While resting my back against the tiles on the edge of the pool, I scan the sky and all I see is deep blue. A short burst of happiness explodes inside of me, like bubbles in my stomach, and maybe all’s not lost. Maybe I can recover from this hideous Jenny debacle and not feel like the scorned woman for the rest of my life.
“The oldies must be down for the count.” Rose joins me and spreads her arms so one of them rests behind my back.
“I’m sure the prospect of a gin and tonic will wake them from their slumber soon enough.”
Rose’s laugh ripples through the water. “I would expect so.” From the corner of my eye I notice how she turns her head towards me. “I seem to have under-stocked on books this year. Do you happen to have brought anything good?”
I think of the lesbian detective I packed, the lesbian vampire novel and the lesbian erotica anthology. “I’m not sure our tastes are the same.” I face her and grin. “I tend to read very niche literature.”
“I’m an open-minded woman. I’m sure I can manage.” Her cheeks dimple when she smiles and her green eyes catch the last of the sun before it dips behind the trees.
“Why don’t I drive into town tomorrow and get you some from that international bookstore just off the main square?”
“It really has been a long time since you were here. That shop has long gone.” She scrunches her lips together and raises her eyebrows. “Looks like one of yours is my only option.”
“Stop by my room after dinner. I’ll lend you the least offensive one.” I find it hard to draw my gaze away from her.
“Will you be dressed this time?” She splashes some water in my face and ducks under, away from me. I swallow hard and try to process what just happened. Then I remember that processing was more Jenny’s thing and I shrug it off as friendly banter.
* * *
“Jenny was a nice girl,” my mother inappropriately says, “apart from that enormous tattoo on her back.” She sips from her glass of wine. Sometimes, when I get really bored with dinner conversation, I count the glasses and hold them against her later. This time I’m more annoyed—on the verge of a breakdown, really—than bored. “Very well-mannered and with a promising career in the city.” I half-expect her to say, “If Catherine really has to be with another woman, Jenny was an acceptable choice.”
“She can’t have been that stellar, what with the way she treated Cat.” Rose comes to my rescue. I could kiss her, but only metaphorically, of course.
“I suppose not.” Mum’s eyes drift off and she stifles a yawn.
“Darn straight,” dad says, “excuse the pun Kit-Kat.” A wide grin crosses his face. He always thinks he’s so funny and ever since he retired he’s been watching too many westerns, hence the Texas vocabulary.
The way they’re talking about me makes me feel sixteen years old again, except that some of my parents’ dreams have been categorically dashed since then and, apparently, on top of everything else, I can’t hold on to a decent girlfriend.
“You look positively shattered, Helen.” Rose doesn’t usually speak like this, being more than a decade younger than my parents. “It’s getting late. Maybe you and John should retire to your boudoir.”
“I believe we might.” Dad stands up and makes a clumsy effort to clear some dishes.
“I’ll take care of that.” I pull at his hot pink polo shirt and smirk at the memory of his last birthday when Billy successfully made him believe that all men his age wear bright colours now. He was so desperate to believe it, and so tired of his starched shirts in all shades of beige, that it made him stubborn enough to ignore mum’s disdainful pout. Wearing ghetto colours, as Billy calls it, constitutes his own mini mid-life crisis and, despite not doing wonders for his pale complexion, I can only applaud it—from a daughter’s perspective, it beats getting a bit on the side.
“How are you holding up?” Rose glares at me from the sink while I dry the last wine glass, my behind leaning against a cream-coloured kitchen cabinet. “How long were you and Jenny—”
“I’m fine. Really. I just don’t want to talk about it all the time.” My stomach tightens as I remember Jenny’s close-cropped blond hair and the way it stuck out to all sides in the morning. Waking up alone has been the hardest. Jenny had this rule of never leaving the bed without an extensive hug—not even for a bathroom visit in the middle of the night. From dusk till dawn, her skin clung to mine and could only be torn away with great difficulty.
“I’m sorry.” Her eyes find mine. “It can’t be easy.”
I swallow back some tears, but not enough to keep one from plopping down on the just-dried glass in my hands.
“Hey.” She closes the distance between us and takes the glass from me before brushing away a lingering teardrop from my cheek with her thumb. Her other hand curls around my neck and presses my face against her shoulder. The smell of fresh tomatoes mixed with wine and herbs fills my nostrils and I inhale deeply. “It’s all right.”
The second hit comes from her perfume, which is fruity and nutty and so indisputably feminine it makes my knees go weak. I close my eyes for a split second and accept the unexpected tenderness.
“Did you want that book?” I manage to ask.
“Tomorrow’s fine.” Rose’s fingers caress my scalp and draw me closer. “I promise I won’t mention her anymore,” she whispers in my ear and, suddenly, the painful memory of Jenny seems far away. She releases her hold on me and I notice a few damp drops on her top. “It’s been a while since someone cried on my shoulder.” Despite the fiery red of her lipstick, her smile is gentle and kind and sparks a whole slew of unsuitable mixed emotions in my brain. “Good night.”
I retreat to my empty bedroom. We’re both adults now, but I wish Billy were here. We quibbled endlessly in this bed, not willing to give in to the night just because a parent said we should go to sleep. We lost ourselves in ongoing stories born from exhausted lips. We could always push for one more sentence until one of us fell asleep mid-word and the other, as if waiting for the signal, soon followed.
At least mum can be proud of him. At thirty-three he’s about to make partner at the accountancy firm he works for. He’s happily married to a gorgeous redhead—I experienced unhealthy pangs of sibling rivalry when I first met my sister-in-law—and father to three incredibly misbehaved, freckled boys. You couldn’t dream up a son more perfect. To stand next to him as a recently dumped lesbian during family events is quite the challenge.
I read a few pages in the Stella Duffy book I brought, more to gauge if it’s something I can share with Rose than being in the mood for it, and drift off after a couple of pages. I dream of Jenny and Rose and somehow it’s not entirely unpleasant.
* * *
The next days I spend catching my breath, bathing in bright blue light and flicking through mum’s extensive collection of ‘saved up’ Hello magazines. My eyes wander to Rose’s cleavage occasionally, but more in admiration for its pertness at her age than anything else. Our tender late-night kitchen moment sticks with me though and I tend to turn to it when imagined pictures of a smiling Jenny on Crete assault my brain.
“Today’s the day, lovebirds,” Rose exclaims over brunch on Saturday. “Why don’t Cat and I take ourselves off for the day so you can have the house to yourselves?” For as long as I can remember my parents have celebrated their wedding anniversary in Tuscany and, over the years, they must have been to every romantic spot in the vicinity of the house. “We’ll stay out late.” Rose winks at me and despite appreciating the gesture, the activity she implies my parents engage in, makes me queasy.
“Nonsense,” my dad, ever the romantic soul, says. “This is your house. We wouldn’t dream of expelling you.”
“I’ll be in excellent company.” Rose casts me another look, one a bit more difficult to decipher.
“I stocked the fridge with some nice bottles of champagne.” I say it as if Rose and I have planned this, which couldn’t be farther from the truth. I was expecting another half-drunk dinner tonight, spiced with countless anecdotes from my parents’ married life I heard a million times before. Including the one—my mum’s favourite when she’s had a few—where I put a pair of socks in my underwear and asked her if I could be a boy like Billy now. I perk up at the prospect of spending a day on the road with Rose. “We won’t take no for an answer.”
Mum blushes and mumbles some inaudible words while dad sips from his coffee. It’s endearing, really.
“Right.” Dad folds the paper and irons out the creases with a flat hand. “If you’re sure it’s no trouble.”
“I insist.” Rose shoots him a generous smile and locks her eyes on mine. “Ready to go in half an hour, Cat?”
I make a display of kissing my parents goodbye, both to make them feel slightly uncomfortable and because it is, after all, their anniversary—thirty-seven years seems so unfathomable to someone newly single like me.
Rose’s car has an open roof and my short black hair spikes back as we cruise through scenic landscapes worth every feature in glossy travel magazines.
“Our first stop is a winery,” she shouts over the breeze.
“We have an itinerary?” I bunch my eyebrows together.
“Depends if we spit or swallow.” She drums her fingers on the steering wheel. “We may be trapped there all afternoon.”
Rose looks beautiful with her chestnut curls spilling out from under her headscarf. They catch the midday sun and shine like freshly polished wood. I chuckle and think life could be worse than being stuck with a gorgeous woman, in a convertible on an Italian country road, on the way to a winery. Perhaps it’s even better than Lesbos.
“That detective was a bit of a let-down.” Rose sniffs her glass of wine ceremoniously, as if she really knows what she’s doing. “Not in terms of the story, but because of how you spoke of it. I was expecting a bit more action and I’m not talking about police action.”
I’m grateful for the bucket as I propel my gulp of wine into it, before having the chance to taste anything. “I thought I’d start you off on something easy to digest.”
“I’m forty-eight. I’ve seen a thing or two.”
“You don’t look a day over thirty-nine, so please forgive my caution.”
“Hm.” She slurps her wine and drills her eyes into mine. “Not sure if I should take that as a compliment.” She follows up with a wide smile. “What do you think?” She holds up her glass. “To buy or not to buy?”
“Buy. And let’s have a proper drink now, please. I’m ready for some serious swallowing.”
She exchanges a few quick words in Italian with the host and the melodic snappiness in her voice gives me goosebumps. He brings us new glasses and fills them with a generous amount of light-yellow liquid.
“A toast.” She angles her glass towards me. “To Helen and John.” The rim of her glass lightly brushes mine, producing a high-pitched clinging sound. “And the magnificent children they’ve produced.”
I don’t know if it’s the wine or the heat or the surprising compliment, but my cheeks flush and I resort to a shy smile.
“You’ll be off the streets in no time.” Rose rests her hand less than an inch away from mine and I’m beginning to wonder if she’s mainly been focusing on swallowing. “Such a catch.”
“Looks like I’ll be driving later then.”
“I’m just pleasantly tipsy. Let’s order some cold cuts and bread.” Her glance lingers on me and I get the distinct impression there’s more than innocent flattery going on. I’m hardly put off by it, but I do have my reservations.
After the snacks arrive we fall into an easy conversation about some of my parents’ and Rose’s mutual friends and how all their offspring are performing. It’s sort of beating around the bush because all the while Rose holds a glimmer in her eyes, something smouldering that unnerves but also arouses me. By the time we leave the winery, both of us sober but one of us more confused than the other, I have an inkling of how I want the day to end, but our shared history and the nature of our relationship keep my thoughts from going all the way.
She stops the car at a deserted patch of woods in a lush green valley off the main road.
“Grab this.” She leans over her seat and snaps up a blanket from the back. Just the sight of it fires up all kinds of alarms in my system. From the boot she produces a cool box with a bottle of the rosé we’ve been drinking all week. “Sorry, no cups,” she shrugs, as if this whole situation is normal.
I follow her to a secluded spot behind five ancient trees. She spreads out the blanket over the wild grass and sits down cross-legged.
“In all the times I’ve come here I’ve only bumped into one other person. He looked about ninety and that was five years ago. Bless him.” She gestures for me to sit next to her. “This is where Michael proposed to me. We’d only been seeing each other six months, but he said that he knew and he had wasted enough time.” She looks out over the green splendour in front of us. “It was my first time here and it was love at first sight. Just like with Michael.” Her voice trembles the way it does when people speak of lost loved ones. “I said yes.”
“I’m honoured that you brought me here.” I take the bottle from her and bring it to my lips. “You know I was extremely fond of him.”
Her hands rest on mine for several seconds when she takes the bottle back. We both stare at them in silence. Rose raises her head first and when I look up to meet her gaze she lets go of the bottle and cups my cheek with her right hand.
“Tell me if you want me to stop.” Her fingers travel to my ear and outline its contour, slowly and sensually, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if this is the wine speaking, or grief, or misplaced affection and I want to care but I also really want to kiss her.
“Have you ever kissed—” I begin.
“Does it matter?” She stops me mid-question and I see the desire in her eyes. Maybe it’s the place and the memories it holds for her or maybe it’s her mid-life crisis. I wonder if I’m supposed to be the moral compass here. The one who shuts this down. “I want you. I think that’s obvious.”
“It’s not that I’m not interested.” The anticipation in her eyes deflates and the moment disappears. Her hand drops from my face, leaving a sizzling reminder of what could have been.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have.” She gulps from the wine and stares out into the distance. “Embarrassed doesn’t even begin to describe it.” She shoots me a sheepish grin before covering her face dramatically behind her hands.
I inch a little closer and curve my arm around her shoulder. “It’s perfectly all right.” I search for some wise words but this situation is too baffling and I have no idea how to make things better. “I just—I don’t know—”
She faces me again, tears staining her cheeks. “I’ve been foolish, but it’s been so long since I felt something like this.” She shakes her head. “You must think I’ve lost my mind.” At last, she can smile again, albeit it very sparsely.
“How about a date?”
“What?”
“We’ve been pussyfooting around it all day, with all the innuendo and such. Let’s make it less awkward by making it official.” I treat her to the warmest, most confident smile I can muster. “I’m asking you out on a date. Tonight.”
She nods her head slightly, letting my words register. “And that will make it less awkward?” She mirrors my smile and the light in her eyes is back.
“Sorry to be so lesbian about it, but I need to process first.”
“At least you are one.” She squeezes my hand, which is still dangling from her shoulder. “There goes my fantasy of some woman love out in the open.”
“We can always come back.” I curl one end of my mouth up. “Depending on how the date goes.”
“My dating skills may be a bit rusty.”
“Judging by the current state of my love life, mine aren’t exactly top-notch either.”
* * *
The date is tense because we can’t find the words. We spend our time blushing under candlelight while stealing furtive glances at each other’s pizza. I barely touch mine because this whole afternoon has made my stomach terribly upset.
“I’ll have to come back here someday. The food looks divine.” I shuffle a cheese-crusted piece of eggplant around on my plate.
“I’ll ask them to wrap it.” Rose clears her throat before she continues. “I realise I crossed a line, but—”
Rose Perkins, always the picture of togetherness and eloquence, is crumbling in front of me. I want to step in, say something, but the words die on my tongue. It’s not that it’s entirely unfeasible, but long before she became part of my family’s life, her late husband was Billy’s godfather and I addressed him as uncle until I deemed myself too cool for it.
She slugs the rest of her wine back and leans over the table.
“Here’s the deal.” For the first time since arriving at this picturesque restaurant with its grandstanding waiters and hedged-off garden, she looks me in the eye. “I never expected this,” she whispers. “But ever since you arrived, the first thing I do in the morning is position my deck chair so I have a view of your window. I count down the minutes until you step out. Then my day begins.” She shakes her head. “I can’t explain it. It’s just how it is.”
Heat flashes through me and my entire body breaks out in a sweat. I wish I had a pool to jump in to rinse this madness off me. I want her too, I know that much, but it’s more complicated than that. “You’re a very beautiful woman,” I start and already it feels inadequate, as if I’m selling her short—or blowing her off. “I’m flattered, of course.” I search for her eyes and find disappointment. “There are just certain sentiments I—” Fearing I may sound like my dad, I correct myself. “I’m a little fragile at the moment and, as much as I would like to reciprocate, part of me believes it’s wrong.” And when did I become such a moralist, I wonder.
“I completely understand.” She plucks her napkin from her lap and tosses it on the table. “I’m sorry to have put you in this position.” Her head tilts towards her watch. “It’s a little early to go back to the house.”
“Any lesbian bars around here?” I try to break the tension. “Just in case you’d like to explore these new feelings you’re experiencing further.”
“I haven’t a clue.” Her smile is forced, the lines bracketing her mouth rigid. “I know somewhere else we can go though.”
As we exit the restaurant she grabs my wrist and pulls me close. “Let me know if you change your mind.” Her lips are on my ear. “I meant every word I said.”
Her heels clack on the cobblestoned pavement. We leave the car at the bistro and she guides me through a score of dimly lit alleys.
“La bella Rosa,” a barrel-chested guy shouts as we walk into the bar. His shirt strains around his belly and wisps of dark hair peek through the collar. “Please-ah, I reserved the best seat for you.” He makes a spectacle of pulling Rose’s chair back and wiping it clean before allowing her to sit. “Two Limoncello coming right up.”
“Very authentic,” I smirk. “You seem well-loved in this town.”
“Not everyone is impervious to my charms.”
“Trust me, your charms are not the issue.”
She cocks her eyebrows up. “I’m very limber for my age, so it can’t be that either.”
I giggle nervously and question my defences. If she’s going for full-blown alcohol-induced seduction, I’ll be all hers tonight, no matter the family connections. “Have you ever had feelings for a woman before?” I can’t help but ask.
The barkeep interrupts the moment by slamming two shot glasses and a jug of cloudy yellow liquor on our table. “First one is on the house.” He winks at Rose and disappears.
“First one?” I purse my lips together.
“Don’t worry, Fabio will have a cab waiting. This place has excellent service.” She fills both our glasses to the rim. “Bottoms up.”
“I’m fairly certain that’s not how you’re supposed to drink it.”
She bores her eyes into mine. Because of the feeble light in the bar they’re more black than green.
“You’ve disrespected your elders enough for one day, I believe.” She knocks back the shot without losing eye contact and I do the same. “The answer is no.” She brings the empty glass back down with a thud on the wooden table. “I haven’t felt anything like this for anyone in a very long time.” With slender hands, she refills our glasses. It only takes one raised eyebrow from Rose to make me obey and reach for mine. “Perhaps I should feel foolish, but you know what?” She twirls the glass between her fingers and some liquid sloshes over the edge. “I honestly don’t.” She empties her glass and licks the stickiness off her fingers.
“Good for you.” The alcohol I’ve consumed during the course of the day pools heavily in my blood.
“The only thing I regret is spooking you out of sleeping with me.”
Baffled by her straightforwardness, I nearly choke on my drink.
“I should have used more subtlety.” She shoots me a lopsided grin. “Would you have gone for that?” Her expression is more self-deprecating than quizzing and I realise she’s about to throw in the towel.
I scan the room and notice the familiarity of most patrons. Two men sit by the bar and three older couples huddle around a table. My options are limited but I feel like I need to make a move now, before Rose has admitted defeat completely—or before common sense catches up with her. I’m intoxicated enough to ignore certain things about her and, even more than that, I want to kiss her, trace my tongue over her blood-red lips and trap her moans of pleasure in my mouth.
“I’m going to powder my nose.” I stand up, my legs wobbly but my resolve strong. “Follow me in one minute.”
Her eyes go wide before they slit together as my proposition registers. She nods and I take that as my signal to head off. The washroom is tucked behind a narrow door next to the bar. I wash my hands and peer at my reflection in the mirror. Suddenly, the effects of the liquor hit me hard and I need to steady myself against the square white washbasin. The door creaks when Rose enters. She doesn’t say anything, just stares into my eyes while sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. In a split second, she’s beside me and she pushes me into a cubicle, locking the door behind us.
“Yes?” she asks, but her hand is already on my neck and all sense of rationality slips from me. Her body presses against me and her other hand tilts up my chin, like heroes do in romantic movies, and the next thing I know her lips are on mine. The bittersweet sting of Limoncello lingers in her mouth and I need to shove myself hard against the door to not lose my balance completely.
With the back of her fingers, she strokes my cheek as she pulls back to let her eyes rest on me. I don’t see a family friend anymore. All I see is a gorgeous woman who just kissed me straight into paradise.
“Where can we go?” My breath jerks when I speak.
She doesn’t reply—probably because she has no answer—and leans in for a kiss again. Her tongue skates along my lips before darting into my mouth and I wonder how many years of pent-up sexual energy I’m dealing with.
“We’re in no condition to drive and the house is a few miles away. We need a taxi.” She checks her watch, as if she’s timed our bathroom encounter. “And we can’t stay in here for too long.” She flashes me an apologetic smile. “This is rural Italy, after all.”
My mind is so dazed by the alcohol that I’m not perturbed by the thought of macho bartenders. I just want to undo Rose’s blouse and bury myself between her breasts. They’ve taunted me for days from underneath bikini tops. Patience is lost on me as I draw her in for another kiss, but she keeps a clear head and holds me off.
“Trust me. It’ll be all right.” She smooths some wrinkles out of her knee-length skirt and reaches for the doorknob.
I take a deep breath and try to ignore the raw lust shivering up my spine. Rose pulls the door ajar and peeks out before exiting the stall. “The coast is clear,” she whispers and I shuffle behind her. I can’t help but wonder what Jenny is doing on Corfu right now.
I leave some bills on the table while Rose bids adieu to Fabio and arranges our ride home. Now that the lid has come off, it’ll be a challenge to sit next to her without touching her.
In the taxi, my head spins violently. Rose distracts herself by striking up a stunted conversation with the driver. I thank the many stars in the Italian night sky that the villa is only a fifteen-minute ride away and I’m doubly relieved to see that all the lights are out when we pull up in the driveway. Having to face my parents right now would put a serious damper on things.
“They’re on the other side of the hallway, anyway,” Rose states optimistically, but I’m suddenly floored by doubt. We tiptoe to Rose’s room, the one she shared with Michael—and Michael with a slew of other women before her.
“No, not in there.” I pull her away from the door and coax her towards my room. The windows are still open, allowing the night breeze to catch in the curtains. I turn to face her and desire glints in her eyes. “They’re over sixty, but hardly deaf,” I whisper. “We’ll have to be really quiet.”
“No problem.” She extends her hand and I take it. Two fingers run up the inside of my arm and my skin bursts out in goosebumps. Rose wastes no time yanking my top over my head and I soon stand in front of her with just my bra separating my breasts from her lips. My nipples poke against the fabric at the prospect and I let go of my last restraint. I pull her close and kiss her seriously this time. My tongue intrudes deep into her mouth and she seems to draw me even closer. Her hands press against the back of my head and I realise it must have been a while since Rose was kissed like this.
The silence is deafening and the sounds we make appear to amplify around us in the night. She grunts when I lose patience with her blouse and just tears it over her head. The rustle of my pants when they come off seems to produce more decibels than the crickets outside and the whole secrecy of it, the audacity of this fuck, heightens my senses.
I drag her on the bed with me until we lay side by side, peering into each other’s eyes.
“I can’t believe this is happening.” She traces a red nail along my chin and I’m suddenly overwhelmed by emotion. Her skin catches the moonlight falling through the cracks in the curtain while her curly hair frames her high cheekbones. There is no sign of doubt in her eyes, not the slightest hint of hesitation. I need to have her now. Heat pulses through my body and I can’t wait.
I kiss her gently and manoeuvre my hand to her back where I unclasp her bra. She soon follows suit and I press my breasts against hers. The touch of our nipples releases an electric current in my bones. Maybe the circumstances beg for me to take this slowly, but I couldn’t if I wanted to. I yank at her panties and she writhes her legs together until they come off. I trail a finger through her mound of hair and, even though I’ve barely touched her, she’s already moaning. Our eyes are still on the same level and she blinks once when my fingers travel down and encounter the wetness of her pussy. Foreplay lasted all afternoon and, first time with a woman or not, she’s ready.
I shrug off my underwear and, at last, we’re both completely naked. A fire brews in my belly and there is so much I want to do to her, so much I want to show her. Her hand finds my pussy and she shoots me a devilish grin as she discovers how wet I am.
I hoist myself up with my free arm until I’m on my knees. She follows me and we face each other, kneeling on the bed. I inch closer and pull her in for a kiss while my hands wander down to her breasts. Her nipples stiffen under my touch and I gently squeeze them. My tongue traces a line to her neck while my fingers slither down. I circle her engorged clit a few times and she groans loudly in my ear. I find her eyes and make a shushing sound. I fix my gaze on her while I let one finger disappear into her pussy. Her breath hitches in her throat but she doesn’t close her eyes.
Her hand is back between my legs. Our upper bodies lean against each other and she cups my neck with her other hand for support. I twirl some fingers around her hair and find my balance. While I push a finger into her she retracts hers and we find a matching rhythm. She bucks down every time I enter her and I do the same when she fucks me. Her eyes flutter and her lips grimace as I add more fingers. She does the same and I pant and groan and don’t care about the noise we’re producing anymore.
“Oh yes, yes,” she says and the sound of her voice sets me off. My pussy clutches itself around her fingers as I bury mine inside her. The first wave grabs me and expands through my belly until it reaches my tingling limbs. I gush all over Rose’s hand and catch a glimpse of her smile. I try to recompose quickly because I’m still fucking her. I push her down onto the bed and lick my lips.
“Your turn.” My mouth dives straight towards her clit and the moan escaping her upon contact is loud enough to wake the nearest neighbours. She covers her mouth with her hand and buries the back of her head into the sheets. Her fingers barely muffle her cries of ecstasy as I flick my tongue around her clit while my fingers explore the depths of her pussy.
She starts to tremble underneath me, her muscles twitching under her skin.
“Good god.” I make out from under her hand. She lets it fall back onto the sheets and breathes heavily. Two short sighs announce the arrival of her orgasm and I twist my fingers deep inside her. My tongue swirls furiously over her clit and she pushes her pelvis up until her pubes tickle my nose. She covers her face with her hands when I retreat and lay beside her again, an arm slung over her ribs.
Slowly, she lowers her hands and peeks at me over her fingertips. Her eyes are watery, the remnant of a tear shattering on the pillow.
“Fuck me,” she says uncharacteristically.
“I believe I just did.” I push myself up and smile down at her. My gaze darts over her face, over the wonder and disbelief displayed in her eyes. I can’t really grasp it either but it sure felt great.
“I hope we didn’t wake them.” Her lips curl into a mischievous grin.
“They probably drank enough to knock them out for the night.” I plant a kiss on her nose. “But you did have some issues with self-control there.”
“I can’t possibly be held responsible for that.” Her hands ruffle through my hair before dipping down to my neck. “Can I stay in your room tonight?” She seems suddenly insecure, in need of a thousand embraces.
“It’s your house. You can do whatever you want.” I lower my head onto her shoulder and remember the kitchen incident that started all of this.
“Really?” I feel her lips stretch into a smile against my scalp. “Because there are a few more things I’d like to try.”
When I wake up the first thing I see is Rose’s face. Her curls riot into all directions, evidence of a night well spent. Of all the things I had expected this holiday to be—tedious, second-rate, lonely—sexually satisfying was last on my list. A dull headache throbs beneath my temples as I remember the lethal yellow shots we consumed. The sound of pans clanging against each other in the kitchen startles me and my jerky reaction wakes Rose up. First, she beams me a smile that melts my heart, then she plants a tender kiss on my forehead.
“Morning.” She shifts her body so her cheek rests on my chest and her curls tickle my nose. Wrapping my arms around her feels strangely comfortable, as if I’ve never done anything else. Despite our desire to explore each other’s body all night, the alcohol got the better of us and we didn’t make it much further than some lip-biting and breast-fondling.
Something producing a lot of noise thunders to the kitchen floor and sudden panic judders through my body.
“I don’t like the sound of that.” I run my fingers through Rose’s curls. “I fear dad is cooking breakfast.”
The window is still open and morning sun slants through. Rose sighs heavily and I can spot the reluctance in her voice.
“Best get up. Make myself presentable for the in-laws.” Her body shakes with laughter, causing friction around my nipples. She hoists herself up and looks at me, the fine lines around her eyes crinkling with joy. “Shall I tell them or will you do the honours?”
I playfully push her away. The thought of facing my parents half-hungover doesn’t appeal to me, but at least I’m confident their ignorance will prevent them from sussing anything out.
“Get out of my room already, you dirty cougar.”
Rose kneels next to me, her naked body on full display, and I feel the heat rush through me again. She brushes some strands of hair out of her face and stares down at me.
“Sure, but be warned.” She trails her hands along her chest. “I believe you may have sexually awakened me.”
* * *
“Rough night, darling?” My mum pours me a cup of coffee and spoons in the exact amount of sugar I want without having to ask.
“My fault entirely, Helen.” Rose wears her poker face well. “I’m afraid I dragged young Cat to Fabio’s.”
“Ah,” dad chimes in. “No good can come of that.” If only he knew.
“Can we borrow your car this morning? We had to take a taxi back.” Rose seems to eat her eggs differently this morning, with much more lip and finger licking than I can bear.
“Very sensible.” Dad sports a neon yellow polo shirt today, making him look like an artificially enhanced lemon. “Of course. Helen and I were thinking of taking the bicycles out this afternoon.” My ears perk up at the prospect of my parents leaving the house. “Would you care to join us?”
Rose rubs her temples vigourously. “I do apologise for being a bad host. I think I’ll need an extended lie-down today.” No doubt, she means with me between her legs.
“Me too,” I concur. “That stuff he poured us was really vile.” I feel a tad sorry for them. They already spent the better part of yesterday alone and now we’re sending them off on their own again. We’ll need to find a balance for the rest of the week, but today the hunger for each other is too demanding. “I’ll prepare us a nice supper when you get back.” Already I feel as if I need to make amends.
After breakfast, Rose and I can’t make it to the car fast enough. I drive and she immediately puts her hand on my thigh, her fingertips zapping electricity through my flesh.
“Just so we’re clear.” A myriad of emotions crashes through my brain and I try to direct all my attention to driving. “They can never know about this.” Rose’s fingers dig into me, her nails scraping my skin. “They’ve accepted I’m a lesbian, but they would never understand this.”
“No one understands.” Her hand snakes under my shorts and I need to gasp for air. “Least of all me.” She retracts her fingers and places them chastely on my knee. “Let’s make a detour. Turn left there.”
She co-pilots me to the secluded spot where she made her first move yesterday. I salivate at the sight of it.
“I don’t think we have a blanket in this car.” I rush to the boot but all I find is a spare tire.
“We don’t need it.” She takes my hand. “Come on.”
The light falls differently on the grass before noon. The sweet scent of our surroundings and the vibrant green of it all unleashes a fresh wave of nostalgia from my soul. Or maybe it’s happiness.
She shoves me against one of the thick trees and peers into my eyes. “Let’s make a deal.”
I nod eagerly, impatient for what’s to come.
“Let’s not consider any consequences of our actions this week. Let’s just do what we want. We’ll worry about the rest later.” I admire Rose’s carefree spirit and I want nothing more than to go along with it, but again, it’s more complicated than that.
“We can try.” I curl my hands around her neck. “Are you going to kiss me today, or what?”
“I’ll do much more than that.”
I’ve always had a thing about kissing out in the fields. It makes it more visceral, more primitive, and so much more exciting. A light breeze whips up Rose’s hair, making her curls dance in the wind. I inhale the mossy scent of the valley and Rose’s fruity perfume. Even before her lips touch mine, I know I’m already soaking wet.
It’s a flashback to puberty when the only place I could make out with girls safely was hidden in a corner or stowed behind a tree. To revisit that sensation as an adult, to actively have to conceal this summer fling, is a potent aphrodisiac.
Rose trails her lips from my mouth to my neck and all I see when I open my eyes is a picture perfect landscape of blue and green irregularly bordered by her hair.
“Have you ever been naked against a tree?” she pants into my ear. “Because you’re about to be.” She hoists my top up and wastes no time yanking down the cups of my bra. My nipples firm in the midday breeze, pointing upwards to the climbing sun. Her lips nibble on my breasts before she drops to her knees and her tongue swirls around my belly button. I’m wearing shorts with an elastic waistband so all she has to does is give them a tug and they come off. I feel the hotness of her mouth through my panties, which must be drenched by now. One kiss is enough to set my blood on fire. She slides her hands under the fabric at the back and cups my buttocks. Her touch is electrifying and I’m glad I have the tree to balance myself against. She presses her mouth into me and finds my clit.
“I’ve been waiting for this,” she says. Suddenly, my undies are off and Rose’s hands fumble with them around my ankles. I spread my legs, the outside air tingling my swollen cunt. She licks me all the way up and down, her tongue wet and hot against me. My mouth stretches into a smile as the world around me tilts.
Rose’s nails dig into the back of my thighs as she buries her face deeper into me. She drives her tongue inside and the sensation, the pure emotion of standing in this field with an inescapable massive orgasm on the way, makes me tear up. I don’t care about Jenny anymore and, when push comes to shove, I couldn’t care less what my parents or anyone else may think. All that matters is this moment of joy I’m sharing with Rose.
She laps feverishly at my juices. My clit is rock hard as her tongue flicks over it, over the hub where all the nerve-endings in my body seem to collide.
I sink my hands into her hair, that golden-brown chestnut mane that flickers in the sunlight. Her curls swing from left to right as she licks me and I hold on to them.
“Oh yes.” I push her head into my pussy and her tongue writhes and nudges and I’m about to explode. Sparks course through my blood. I close my eyes and give in to the sensation, wave after wave of pleasure drowning me. I let go of her head as the final ripple shudders through me before sinking to the ground.
Rose drags the back of her hand over her mouth and smacks her lips together. “Amazing,” is all she says.
“Never too old to learn,” I say when I catch my breath. “Not bad for a first-timer.” I shoot her a tender grin. I would probably have come even if she’d only just looked at my clit.
“Giving a woman pleasure is so much more—” She hesitates for an instant, searching for the right word. “Overwhelming.”
“Speaking of pleasure.” I glance at the nearest tree. “I believe I owe you some.”
Rose has shifted backwards and green patches stain her pants where her knees bend. “You don’t owe me anything.” Her smile is warm and floors me again, so much so, in fact, that I’m already beginning to wonder what I will do when I leave and no longer have access to it. “But since you’re offering.” She checks her watch. “Not here though.” She stretches out her hands and we pull each other up. “However, I do believe we have a house at our disposal this afternoon.” She curls her arm around my shoulder and we walk back to the car like lovers holidaying in a sunny paradise.
* * *
We spend the rest of the week stealing moments and sneaking in and out of each other’s room. Every morning when I wake up and see her face, satisfied and tan, the flawless joy of that moment drowns out the impending doom of the end of my holiday. I shove the thought of leaving as far back in my mind as possible, but soon my mum starts making allusions to it and my dad feels the need to repeat our boarding time incessantly.
On the morning of our departure I lay awake long before Rose pries her eyes open.
“Never had a summer love before?” Her soft words cut through the silence of dawn.
I shake my head, suddenly unable to speak. For hours I’ve been quizzing my brain—and my heart—about these feelings that have snuck up on me. How do you shelve something like this? How do you let go? What do I say when I run into her at my parents’ house once she’s back in London? I even, very tentatively, asked myself the question if we stand a chance at all.
“Neither have I.” She nestles her head on my shoulder and I run my fingers over the length of her arm, maybe for the last time.
“Perhaps it doesn’t have to be.” My heart thumps in my throat. She must feel it thunder underneath her ear. “Confined to summer, I mean.” I hadn’t planned to say it. The words just rush out of my mouth, as if they have a life of their own and need to do their utmost to either make a fool of me, or attempt to save my silly little heart.
“Is it time for the talk?”
“I’m leaving in a few hours, so maybe we do need to discuss some things.”
“No need.” Her breath scorches my skin. She’s supposed to be the wiser one. Then again, I’m the lesbian. “I booked a flight back home next week.” She lifts her head from my shoulder, her lips edged into a triumphant smile. “I can’t bear the thought of spending the rest of the summer here without you.”
“Are you serious?” I sit up and find her eyes.
“As if I’m the world’s biggest prankster.” She cocks her eyebrows up, ready to receive my tokens of eternal gratitude. I pummel her down with my body and smother her in kisses. With the prospect of a British summer without her—and Jenny—eradicated from my thoughts, I suddenly can’t wait to get back and properly date her, no matter how complicated it will be.
“Let’s celebrate.” My fingers wander down her chest, stopping at her mound of frizzy hair, then dipping down, to touch her eager lips one more time before I take off. I stare down into her eyes as I part them. I feel her wetness on my fingertips and it burns through me. I need to fuck her again, need to leave my mark.
A loud knock on the door makes us jump. We both hold our breath.
“Kit-Kat, darling?” My dad’s voice beams from the hallway. “Are you up? We must go soon. We board at three.”
Rose and I stifle our giggles. “I’ll be ready in half an hour.” I try to suppress the arousal in my voice and make it sound sleepy, as if I just woke up.
“All right.” We listen as his footsteps shuffle away from the door.
“Has that killed your hunger for me, Kit-Kat?” She shoots me a sensual smirk.
“Never,” I say, and slip my finger inside her wet folds.