Afterglow Pt. 01

"I-I c-can't. I can't d-do this," I stammered. I jumped up from the bed and ran over to my discarded clothes, eagerly putting them on.

Olivia sat on the edge of my bed, watching. She was silent, and didn't say any words to draw me back.

As I was fighting with my jeans, trying to button back into the fucking hole where it belonged, I felt her hand on my shoulder. I spun around and she was still naked on top. I squeezed my eyes shut.

"You're freaking out."

"A bit, yeah. Sorry. I just—I have to go home. Okay?"

"May I call you?"

My eyes opened and she stood in front of me, looking fragile and worried.

"Yeah. Okay. Just—I gotta run."

And run I did...down her stairs, through the door to her perfect brownstone, and into the nearest cab.

Chapter III: Back to Black

Sunday morning Olivia left me a message.

"I've been thinking. I'm really sorry. I took things too fast. In my hunger for you, I forgot to woo you properly. Please give me another chance."

I was a mess the whole day, eating Cinnamon Toast Crunch right out of the box and staring at my cell phone like she could see me through it. I wasn't ready to call her yet, though I knew I would. I knew it like I knew the sun would rise tomorrow. My body, still wet and eager, knew it even better than I did.

Even Toronto was moody, refusing to chase after his toys when I threw them (as I desperately fought off the desire to call her back).

Then Monday morning came and I didn't know how I could call her. I blushed every time I thought of her body above mine, and turned completely red when I thought about how I pushed her away. This was so beyond my comfort zone. I needed a distraction.

So I drank coffee all day and buried myself in reading a current case. It was about a woman, Rose Sherman, desperately trying to get away from her stalker. Scary, compelling stuff. It infuriated me how lenient stalker laws were. He'd been terrorizing her for nearly a year before he finally broke into her apartment and screwed up by leaving behind fingerprints and a nasty present in her panties. The cops were able to bring him in and now the legal system could bring Rose some justice. He was out on bail, but he was being heavily monitored. I knew it would only be a matter of time before he was behind bars permanently.

I would have to meet with her later in the week and get an idea on how I could represent her to the fullest. Forget about trying to impress my boss and the other lawyers in the department; I wanted to support this poor woman.

Jackie came over to my desk that afternoon and noticed my jumpiness.

"What's wrong with you?"

I took a big gulp of my coffee and shook my head. "What? Nothing. Why? Nothing is wrong with me."

"Uh-huh. Sure. Anyway, how's your lesbian?"

I rolled my eyes. "Lovely, Jackie."

"Over that absurdity yet?"

"Why is it absurd?" I asked, trying to remove all annoyance from my tone. It didn't work. Jacqueline grew defensive.

"Oh, I don't know... Maybe because I've known you for eight years and you've always liked dick. Remember John Grant, your ex-boyfriend who you used to be obsessed with?"

I shuddered remembering John and how terrible our breakup was. Yeah, I had been obsessed with him until he asked me to marry him. Funny how those things turn out. After that I took a year off from dating, which brought me up to the current day, hanging out with a lesbian on my weekends.

"What's your point?"

"My point is that sometimes we get depressed and do crazy shit. My sister gets a tattoo every time she goes into a depression. I eat everything in my house. Maybe your thing is crazy experimentation that will not only hurt you, but her in the process. Ever think of that?"

I felt like she just slapped me. "She's a big girl, too, you know."

"Look, just go out with a guy. Any guy. Remember what it feels like. It's been a year, Elizabeth!"

"I went out with Robert the other night and—"

"You hardly gave him a chance." Jacqueline leaned against my desk. "I just think you need to experiment with what you know before you experiment with what you don't. Like, do marijuana before you do heroin. Know what I mean?"

She patted my head and left. I opened my cell and stared at Olivia's name, so incredibly tempted to call or text. But I couldn't. Jacqueline was right, to an extent. Olivia was a fantastic person who deserved to be loved deeply by someone who had their shit together.

It just wasn't me. Why else would I panic when I had a woman between my thighs?

I got back to work, now with a pulsating headache. Truthfully I didn't have time for silly romances, not when such an important case that could make or break me landed on my desk.

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"Elizabeth!"

I turned in the lobby of my office building and saw Robert chasing after me. He didn't call after our date at the art gallery—mostly, I assumed, because I didn't invite him up to my apartment. I tolerated his existence at the office, his sly smiles and obnoxious winks—who winks anymore?—because it seemed normal to do so. Jacqueline constantly reminded me what a gorgeous guy he was and how I hadn't had sex in a year. An eternity, in her eyes.

The last guy I had sex with was John Grant, my boyfriend of three years before he asked me to marry him and I freaked out and broke up with him. Though I loved him, he was admittedly a bore towards the end. And he never made me come; I mastered the art of faking it. Sex was just never that exciting for me, and I didn't completely miss it.

Of course there were nights when it seemed like every nerve-ending in my body was alive. My sheets teased me with each scrap of the fabric. The wind blown in from my open windows skirted across my shirt and I wouldn't be able to resist teasing my nipples. A hand would inevitably travel down to my panties and I would make myself see stars before drifting off to sleep, wondering if that was the gauzy madness Jackie referred to.

Then I went out on dates with people like Robert, listened to them drone on about their day, and panicked about the thought of them anywhere near me. Only Olivia reawakened the urge to seek that satisfaction in another person and I couldn't go through with it.

"Elizabeth," Robert repeated again. I looked at him so properly dressed and nodded. "Sorry I didn't get a chance to call you. The other night was fantastic. I had such a great time."

I forced a smile. "Wonderful."

"Listen, would you want to get drinks tonight? It was a busy day and I need to blow off some steam."

I opened my mouth to refuse. Then the elevator doors opened and Jacqueline appeared. She saw Robert hovering over me and gave a thumbs up. She disappeared into the wintry afternoon, leaving me with the reminder that I wasn't gay. Robert was exactly what I should want. A cock is what I personally needed to fill me, not Olivia's fingers or her artful tongue.

The very thought of that aroused me. Confused, annoyed, terrified, I heard myself telling Robert yes. It couldn't hurt to get one drink, I told myself. So I ignored the predatory gleam in his eye, the way he stood too close and the beat of my heart that told me with every throb this was wrong, wrong, wrong.

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"So I told Jake, I said, 'Jake. You want to go into court for something this fucking stupid, you just go right the fuck ahead.' God, what a fucking moron he is."

Robert sipped his wine and sank back into his seat. The wine and the crowded bar made me hot, so I pulled my sweater off and ignored Robert's blue eyes watching.

"Jake is a really talented lawyer. I'm shocked he'd want to try a case that wasn't worth it."

Robert didn't like my answer. "He wants every opportunity to haul ass in there to show off. Roger thinks he's some golden boy, too. Typical you'd want to defend him."

Our boss was a bit of a hero in my eyes so I was irritated he was speaking so dismissively of him. "Roger doesn't have favorites. And why is that typical?"

"Because he's a good-looking guy. You should know though—he's gay. Just like your artist friend." He grinned and I didn't like it.

"My artist friend?"

"Yeah, Olivia Beringer. She couldn't take her eyes off you the other night. Jackie mentioned you went out to dinner with her." He gulped down some more wine and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I had no idea you were into girls."

My heartbeat quickened. "I'm not. It was just dinner."

He pulled out his wallet and left a generous amount of bills on the table—at least he was a good tipper. He yanked on his jacket. "Let's get out of here. It's fucking boiling with all these shits here."

I followed him out, furious with Jackie for telling on me and scared that someone knew a secret about me. Something I wasn't even sure I knew, myself.

Once we were out of the bar and standing on the sidewalk, Robert ran his hand down my arm. I shivered, and not in a good way.

He kissed me. It was too much tongue and too little lip. There was nothing erotic about it. He moaned into my mouth; he seemed to be enjoying it, at least. I let him stand there, moving his slippery tongue against my own in the freezing cold. He pulled away and grinned with sickening confidence.

"So, you like pussy, huh?" he asked.

I blinked up at him. "Excuse me?"

"Tell me all about it, baby." He got too close. His hand wrapped around my arm in a painful grip. "You're a cock-tease. Personally, all gay people gross me out but there's nothing like a hot lesbian. Why don't you—"

"Shut the hell up."

"Oh yeah?" His lips curled into an obnoxious sneer. "Or what?"

"Don't you ever talk to me like that again."

He grinned with incredible self-confidence. "What are you gonna do about it...dyke?"

"I'll tell everyone that you fucked Roger's wife."

Thanks to Jackie and her large ass mouth, I'd heard that the summer before Robert had a brief but extensive affair with the Roger's bored wife. It would destroy not only his career but also his life if Roger ever got wind of it.

Robert's eyes turned panicked.

"Yeah, I thought so," I said.

I spun on my heel towards home just as it started to snow.

That night was one of those nights where my body came alive and my hand had a mind of its own. It played its way down, grasping at my thighs and stroking my lips. A circle around my clit. An inch inside of me.

Suddenly it was Olivia there, her clever smile and wicked mouth. Right, wrong, me or not me, I let the fantasy play out. It was her hand between my thighs, her mouth drinking from me. I lost myself in a trembling orgasm and fell asleep right after, questions and doubts left for morning.

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I stayed as far away from Jacqueline as I could the next day. I was still pissed at her for telling Robert about Olivia. I was also irritated she thought he was some kind of catch.

Rose Sherman came to meet me just before lunch. Poor girl watched everyone, looking as though she half-expected them to attack her. Her friend held her arm and approached me.

"Hi, Elizabeth?"

"That's me." I shook her hand.

"I'm Felicity, Rose's partner."

I nearly asked if they were business partners, but then I noticed the intimacy of their touch, the way Rose looked at Felicity like she was her only salvation. Then I recalled references to Felicity in the case file and it all made sense. What a coincidence that I would happen upon such a case. I brushed off thoughts of Olivia and got to work.

"Please sit."

Their hands remained clasped as we went over the details. We would have to pause sometimes, as some of the accounts made Rose hyperventilate. I felt terrible.

After the last episode, I closed the case file. "You know what? Why don't we go out and grab some lunch?"

Rose looked to Felicity. She nodded and jutted her chin at the file. "Too many bad memories."

We went to a little diner around the corner. After our steaming plates were brought to us, I tried to glean a little more information out of the skittish Rose.

"So he was an ex-boyfriend?"

She stared down at her soup. "That's right."

"And his behavior picked up when you two dated?"

"No, not really. Maybe. Our relationship was pretty intense and he was always sort of dominant, I guess. But it's really been bad since we broke up. Dan thinks me dating Felicity is some kinda joke. Or, like, a ploy to make him jealous, or even turned-on." She shuddered. "One time he sent me pictures of us. Felicity and me." Her shamed eyes met mine. "In bed."

I shook my head. "How long has this been going on, exactly? The order of your protection you filed is fairly recent."

"I felt stupid about it, at first," Rose confessed. She cupped her mug and looked out the window, lost in thought. "He didn't do anything threatening back then. We'd dated for only five months, but I could tell I was the most serious relationship he ever had. I thought maybe he needed some time to adjust. He just lost his job, his life was in turmoil. I didn't want to call the police and complain because he texted and called me all day."

"You thought it would stop." I pushed my food away. The sadness draped over her and the overwhelming compassion brewing in my chest made me lose my appetite.

"Of course I did. Nothing like that ever happened to me before. Usually I was the one being dumped." She offered a small smile. "Who knew I'd wish I was dumped again."

"When did the threats start?"

She toyed with a french fry. "Maybe about a month later, when it was clear I had no intention of getting back together. It was weird, at first, but I didn't feel threatened. Dan left boxes of chocolate and flowers at my apartment. Packages began arriving at work." She squeezed her fingers together until the fry was mush. "He even sent some shit to my mom. Now I know it was to let me know he could get to her, too. A few weeks later, the letters started."

Felicity stoked her cheek and Rose relaxed into the touch.

"You went to the police then?"

Rose nodded. "They thought it was cute. They said I should be flattered. When I showed them the letters, they said, 'What a poor guy. He's heartbroken.' They told me there wasn't anything they could do until Dan officially broke the law." She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. "I was so frustrated and hopeless."

"Then the letters got worse," Felicity broke in. "We had just started dating and I was like, what the fuck. This guy is crazy. The letters came in the mail after we went out a couple of times. He must have followed us. He detailed things he wanted to do to her. Sent her pictures of sex and murder victims, saying how pretty she'd look like that. It was sick stuff. He mentioned me a few times, too. Once that started, I sent her back to the cops. That's when they gave us the order of protection."

"And that's when he broke into the apartment?" I sipped my coffee, even as my stomach churned.

"No. He killed our cat first."

Rose flinched. "We're not sure. We don't have any proof."

"I know it," Felicity said resolutely.

"About how long after your cat died did he tear your place apart?"

Rose took a deep breath. "A day later."

"Tell me about the day he broke into your apartment."

"I came home and everything was all over the place. He'd burned pictures of my family, scribbled over pictures we had up of the two of us. Threw kitty litter everywhere." She swallowed. "Left semen in my underwear. I'm pretty sure he stole some, too."

Felicity hugged her and kissed her cheek, whispering something in her ear.

Obviously it made me think of Olivia. How strange the world works. I have a sexual identity crisis and two women in love stumble onto my lap.

Overcome with sympathy for them, I reached out a hand to both and squeezed. "I promise I'll get him. I'm definitely going to get him."

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The rest of the day went by in slow motion. Robert stayed the fuck away from me, thank God, and Jackie was out meeting a client.

I knew I was scheduled to go to court in a few days, so I tried to do as much prep work as I could.

But honestly, I was distracted. Olivia's lips, or voice, or even her hands would flash into my mind, tormenting me. I became convinced it was rude to not at least call her back.

Before I could think more about it, I fished my cell phone from my purse and called her.

She picked up after the third ring. "Elizabeth."

"I'm sorry I'm only getting back to you now. I've been... busy."

"Of course. I assumed you were."

Before I could stop myself, I asked, "Want to get some dinner tonight?"

She was quiet for a moment. "Are you sure?"

"Positive." I swallowed afterwards and shut my eyes, waiting for her response.

"Okay. Meet me at the pub on the corner of your street at 7."

"I'll be there," I promised and listened to her hang up.

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The bar was crowded. Some basketball game was on, and every other five seconds a chorus of men groaned.

I sat on the corner of the bar, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible as I nursed my beer. Olivia was late. I figured I deserved to be kept waiting.

When she ran in, she marched over to me with such force that any awkwardness I might have felt disappeared. "It's pouring out there!"

"Is it?" I looked her over and noticed she was soaking wet. She shook off her drenched coat.

She shook out her hair. "And freezing. I forgot my umbrella, too." She beckoned over the bartender and ordered a cosmo. Finally her eyes swept over me. "Lucky you missed it."

"Yeah, I don't have an umbrella, either. And my coat is pretty thin so it practically plasters itself to my..." I broke off, embarrassed I was referring to my body. Especially because of her weighty stare.

She caught on to my discomfort and cleared her throat. "I didn't think I'd hear from you again. I think that every time we part."

I sipped my beer, looking for some courage. "I'm sorry I—"

"Stop being sorry," she snapped. "For goodness sake, Elizabeth. Either you want me or you don't."

"It's not really that easy."

Olivia rubbed her neck. She made the normal action seductive somehow. "It is."

"You can't always go after what feels good. You need to think about the ramifications."

"And what would be the ramifications if we fucked?"

I choked. "I— I don't even think I'm gay. I mean, I've never been with a woman before. I never even kissed a girl back when I was young and stupid, trying to get a guy's attention."

She rolled her eyes. "I should have known what I was getting into when I started flirting with a lawyer." She took my hands, ignoring my flinch. "Stop stressing yourself out. Stop worrying about definitions right now. What ramifications could possibly worry you? Do you think you'll go to jail if I suck on your clit? If you shove your fingers into my pussy?"

It was as though her words traveled through my body and stroked my pussy themselves. I squirmed on the stool, uncomfortable and horny. This wasn't like me, to get worked up over just words alone. It usually took me a long time to get to the point where I go crazy with lust, if that ever happens. Olivia's dirty talking was getting me going, and she knew it.

Triumph danced in her eyes when she pushed her tits against my arm. Her lips practically touched my ear when she whispered, "Will you have to go to confession when I ram my beautiful strap-on into your little pussy?"

I gasped and lifted my shoulder up to her mouth as if to push it away. I couldn't recall being this turned on in a long time, and I reflexively went to touch my own breast. I could feel the nipple pressing against the material of my dress.

Olivia laughed and only then did I realize what I'd done. I hopped off the stool and her giggling stopped. She almost looked scared, like I was going to run and leave her. She opened her mouth, perhaps to apologize, but I stopped any words with my mouth.

Her lips were just as soft as I remembered. Her tongue danced wildly with my own. I wrapped my arms around her and moaned when I felt her fingers stroke my ass.