“Your place or mine?” Micky asked when they reached the outskirts of Darlinghurst. She was so wrapped up in images of her and Robin, brimming with lust and unbridled desire—a state so intoxicating, she should decidedly not be driving—that the notion of them going their separate ways after this day at the beach didn’t even exist in her mind.
“You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve been saying, have you?” Robin placed her hand on Micky’s knee.
“Fuck it, Robin. I want you so much. You have no idea.” Micky was done with pretense, with keeping her desire locked away behind a veil of decency.
“Let’s go to yours. I’d like to see it.”
Micky stepped on the gas a little more.
✶ ✶ ✶
“Nice place,” Robin said, casting an appreciative glance around.
Micky had foreseen this particular scenario of bringing Robin home and had done a quick cleaning swoop of the living room that morning before leaving. Anyway, her small house was always much tidier when the kids weren’t there.
It was unsettling to see Robin standing in her living room—another reason why she’d had to move. Micky could never have brought a woman into the living room of her old house, the house she’d lived in with Darren for so many years, and where her children had grown from babies to toddlers into teenagers. That was a different time, a different life, a different Michaela Ferro.
Because there she stood, heart thumping, with another woman in her house, ready to pounce on her. Last Tuesday, Micky had felt too overwhelmed to take the initiative, but today she was up for it, as though one night with Robin had been enough to give her a crash course in the secrets of lesbian—there was that word again—lovemaking.
Micky didn’t thank Robin for the compliments on how she had decorated her house. Instead, she bridged the gap between them and threw her arms around Robin’s neck, drawing her near. She hoped that the kiss she pressed on Robin’s lips said it all: that she’d wanted to do that all day, all week—all her life.
“Do you want to take a shower?” Robin whispered in her ear when they broke from that first kiss that left Micky dizzy and wanting so much more.
Micky shook her head, took Robin by the hand, and dragged her up the stairs. She didn’t have time for showers—though a possible scenario for extreme hotness did present itself there. But she wanted Robin spread wide for her as soon as possible, right that minute. She couldn’t leap up the stairs fast enough.
As nerve-racking as that first date with Robin had been, it had served its purpose. Micky didn’t have time for nerves anymore right then. The hours she’d already spent with Robin today, and how they had made her arousal grow out of proportion, had freed her of all inhibitions. Micky didn’t worry about wanting to impress Robin anymore. She had so much zeal, desire, and pure lust on her side, it would be impossible not to please her. It was as much a given as how, at that very moment, just before Micky was about to tear her clothes off her, Micky realized that, yes, she was, indeed, very much a lesbian.
When the heart and the loins worked in tandem like this, there was no longer any use denying anything. Micky was overcome by not only lust but also by an emotion so pure and raw in its intention, she didn’t want to lie to herself anymore. She didn’t want to lie to anyone anymore—though that was a matter for later. The truth Micky was about to engage in now was much easier to express. It consumed her, made her fingertips tingle when they touched Robin’s skin, made her heart leap when their lips met.
Micky didn’t give Robin a chance to appraise her sparsely decorated bedroom—there was only space for a bed, a nightstand, and a small wardrobe. Micky had downsized in every aspect of her life after her divorce, except in the emotions department, as though she needed to cast off her former excess of belongings to become this person focused much more on her inner world. She kissed Robin fully on the lips again and, in the brief moments that they broke apart, tugged off her shorts and hoisted her top over her arms, flinging them both somewhere on the hardwood floor.
“Someone’s eager,” Robin said, and took a step back, regarding Micky while a small smile played on her lips.
Was she going too fast? Putting Robin off? Micky was already down to her swimwear, had already brought her hands behind her back to unclasp her bikini top. Her skin was on fire, mimicking every cell inside of her.
“Take a deep breath,” Robin said, sounding very much like Amber, which gave Micky the breathing room she needed. “Relax. I’m not going anywhere. We have all night.”
While Micky liked the sound of that—particularly the implied promise that Robin would be staying the night—she couldn’t stop herself. Her rational mind, the only part of her that was even willing to consider slowing down, had to contend with that fire inside of her, and really, one was no match for the other.