No Strings Attached(31)
Micky inhaled Robin’s scent and, for an instant, contemplated asking if they could skip the beach and go straight up to her flat. They could even go back to her house. It was all empty and inviting and ready for all the sex Micky wanted to have. Oh my. She was feeling rather frisky today.
Instead, she took a sip from the coffee and placed the cup in the holder. “All set?”
“You bet.” Robin’s voice was dripping with excitement. “The last beach I was at was an overly busy one in Hong Kong, chock-full of unruly mainland China tourists, and the water wasn’t exactly crystal clear. I’ve been googling pictures of Bondi beach, and it looks so stunning.”
Micky could hardly take Robin to Balmoral, the beach she knew so well in Mosman. They were bound to run into someone familiar there. Bondi was much bigger, more anonymous, and very gay friendly. They could easily disappear into the crowd—just be two friends enjoying the sun, sand, and surf. There was another s-word Micky kept thinking about. She should really get a grip. What was she? Twenty-four instead of forty-four?
“Thank you so much for taking me,” Robin said in between sipping from her coffee.
It was at the same time exciting and excruciating to sit in a car with her. She was so close, when Micky changed gears, her elbow could easily bump into Robin’s thigh. But they had to work on the friends part of their relationship first. And the word relationship wasn’t even accurate, because Robin had clearly stated that she didn’t do relationships.
While Micky drove, Robin told her about her impromptu trip to Seoul and how she’d had to deal with a bunch of bigoted men—once again.
“Sometimes I think my job could be done better by a man,” Robin said. “Just to get past that initial barrier of contempt. Awful as that may sound.”
But Micky had never been very concerned with things like feminism and equality in the workplace. She sure thought them important, but they didn’t really apply to her life as, first, a stay-at-home mother and, now, a glorified waitress—she guessed she could get away with calling herself a barista, if pressed—at a very gay-friendly coffee shop.
“Are you out at work?” Micky asked when Robin had gone silent, probably contemplating a work issue she hadn’t figured out yet. She recognized the look on her face from Darren. How on Friday night he was there in person but not yet in spirit. He always needed a few hours to shake the workweek off him.
“Of course I am.” Robin looked at her. “I’m the Diversity Manager. What signal would it send to the people I’m trying to influence if I was in the closet?”
Wrong question. Though she enjoyed finding out about Robin’s day-to-day life at Goodwin Stark, she was eager to change the topic of conversation to something lighter. Micky just nodded. At least she wasn’t only thinking about ways to get Robin between the sheets as quickly as possible again.
“Funny thing,” she said. “Darren, my ex-husband, told me yesterday that he’s seeing someone who works for Goodwin Stark as well. Her name is Lisa. That’s all I know.”
To Micky’s relief, Robin didn’t instantly show signs of recognizing the name. “We have so many employees, and I tend to spend my time either with the top brass or people militant enough to join special task forces.” Robin looked at Micky again. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” She put a hand on Micky’s leg, causing Micky to almost lose control of the steering wheel for an instant.
✶ ✶ ✶
It was still early—Micky had insisted on picking up Robin before traffic to Bondi got too congested—and the beach wasn’t busy yet. Micky had skipped breakfast, her stomach too up in arms about seeing Robin again, but was now experiencing insistent pangs of hunger.
“They have the best croissants over there.” She pointed at a bakery she vaguely remembered going to years ago. Micky was not a Bondi beach kind of woman. Already, she saw two men who were so obviously—so ostentatiously—gay skipping along the boardwalk.
“Sure.” Robin followed Micky to the small cluster of tables outside the bakery café.
After ordering and finding a spot overlooking the beach and ocean, Micky said, “God, I haven’t been here in ages.” She cast her glance over the vista in front of her and had to admit it was beautiful. “We lived close to the beach in Mosman. It was great for the kids,” she mused, letting her guard down.
“I’m going to be honest with you.” Robin painted a look on her face Micky couldn’t quite figure out. “You’re the first mother I’ve slept with. Not that I’m in any way discriminatory against mothers, but you know, they’re just not a kind of lesbian I come across often.”