Here's Lookin' at You Kid
Title: Here's Lookin' at You Kid
Author: Fab_fan
Fandom: All My Children
Pairing: Bianca/Frankie, Bianca/Sarah
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. At all. Not one iota.
Summary: Casablanca was many things, and dangerous was at the forefront of that list
The night was far from young when Bianca silently slipped out of bed and into a skirt and blouse. The moon was high in the sky and the stars were tiny bright specks in the infinite sea of black. The building was quiet save for the gentle breathing of her companion. Her soft wheezing breaths fell evenly, and her shoulders rose and fell as she sleepily turned onto her side, facing away from Bianca. Bianca glanced at her as she soundlessly slid on her shoes and picked up her purse. She held her breath for a moment, watching the slumbering woman. The woman she had built a life with far before the chaos and mess that befell the world.
Far before life tore them apart and introduced an unexpected surprise into Bianca’s existence.
As quietly as possible, Bianca opened the door to the room and snuck out, gently closing it behind her with only the click of the lock sparking in the still air. Once out of the room, she darted down the hallway, bypassing the elevator and taking the stairs two at a time. When she burst out the front door of the building, the night air caressed her like a welcoming lover. Warm and soft, it weaved into her long thick hair and tickled her pink lips. With one last glance at the window on the third floor, Bianca ducked down the road.
She ran as quickly as she could, heels clacking against the pavement. She kept her gaze on every passing corner and her ears open for any sound besides her own footsteps. It would not bode well for her to have a German soldier or even one of the French police spot her out this late, especially on her own. Casablanca was many things, and dangerous was at the forefront of that list.
Turning the final corner, her destination came into view. The lights of the sign were still lit, burning like a beacon to a weary lost traveler. She stumbled toward it, drawn like a moth to a flame…or a sinner to heaven. The door opened easily for her.
The café was empty. What was earlier bustling wall to wall with patrons indulging in drinks and listening to the piano while others challenged their luck at games of risk and chance in the back was now bare. Hollow. Like a ghost. The chairs were pushed up tight against the tables, and the dance floor was freshly swept, free of any clutter. She carefully stepped further into the room, teeth biting her bottom lip. Had this been a mistake?
Her steps stopped as she spotted movement out of the corner of her eye.
A door swung open near the bar, and two figures emerged. One was rather young with sharp blue eyes and a laughing cheerful disposition. The other was a bit older, face hardened by years of unrelenting trouble and strain.
She knew them both from her past. A past she never spoke of to anyone.
Petey and Frankie.
One was her friend. The other a lover.
Petey ambled over to the piano, hand gliding over the ivory keys with bred familiarity.
“Play it, Petey.”
Bianca blinked as Petey’s hand froze, “Pardon?”
Frankie slid behind the bar, plucking up a bottle and tipping it so a few fingers of the amber liquid sloshed into a glass. She set the bottle down and swigged back the drink. “Play the damn song.”
Petey’s eyes widened, “Now, Frankie…”
The glass slammed down to the counter as Frankie reached back for the bottle, “What’s the matter? We both know you can play it. Play it!”
“You said to never play that song.”
“You’re right. I did.” Frankie tipped back another swallow of the alcohol, “You know what I want to hear.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You played it for her, you can play it for me!”
“Well, I don’t think I can remember…”
“If she can stand it, I can! Play it!”
Petey nodded and sat down at the piano. His fingers hovered over the keys, hesitant. He shot a look at Frankie before pressing down on the ivory.
Bianca felt her chest tighten as the familiar song she’d requested earlier that day floated on the air. Haunting and beautiful.
You must remember this. A kiss is still a kiss. A sigh is just a sigh. The fundamental things apply. As time goes by.
She watched as Frankie slumped against the bar, mouth thin and unwavering but eyes belaying the pain the melody invoked inside of her. Bianca could see it all, feel the same ache inside of her heart.
She could never stand to see her love in pain.
Bianca walked further into the café, alerting the other two to her presence. Frankie peered over at her, gaze hardening as her grip on the glass tightened. Petey stopped playing, looking back and forth between the two before closing the lid over the keys and quickly pushing the piano away to a far corner.
Frankie’s eyes trailed over Bianca’s form, watching her walk over to the bar, “We’re closed.”
“I was hoping we could talk.”
“Sure, doll. We can talk over breakfast tomorrow. Be sure to invite your girlfriend. I’ll make eggs.”
“Frankie.” She sighed. It hurt. It hurt worse than she ever expected. “I didn’t expect you to be here. If I knew you were in Casablanca…”
“You’d have sent me flowers instead?” Frankie pushed back from the counter and spun around, grabbed another bottle from the shelf behind her, “No, that’d mean you’d want to see me. And we both know you never wanted to see me.”
“That’s not true.” She never forgot about Frankie. Had pictured her face in her mind more often than she’d ever admit to anyone.
Frankie set another glass on the bar, “Drink?”
“I do not think we should be drinking right now.”
“And I don’t think we should be having this conversation, but here we are.” Frankie poured the liquid into the glasses. “Ain’t it a bit late? Shouldn’t you be in bed? Wouldn’t want your gal to worry.”
“Don’t, Frankie.” This conversation would only bring more pain, and neither really wanted that. Bianca did not want to discuss Sarah with Frankie. She never had.
“Alright, then. What should we talk about?” Frankie lifted her glass, “Drink up, sweetheart. Poured it just for you.”
“No, Frankie. Not tonight.”
“Especially tonight.” Frankie downed her drink in one shot.
Bianca could see the glassy haze descending on Frankie’s brown eyes, “Please,”
“Why’d you have to come here? Of all the gin joints in the world…” Frankie grasped the bottle, “of all the damn towns and cities out there, you had to come to Casablanca.”
“I’m sorry, Franks.”
The bottle rattled as it hit the bar. A choked tear stained chuckle barked out harshly, “Sorry? You know, I’ve heard that before. In that exact same voice. Heard it every night for a year. I’m sorry, Franks. Sorry for…for not meeting you like I said I would. Sorry for not being at that train station.” Her palm flattened on the wood, “You sure missed quite a show, Bianca. A woman standing there alone in the rain on the train station platform. Soaked through with a funny look on her face waiting for someone who was never going to show up. Quite a sight. Comedy of the year. Almost as funny as Franks, honey, I love you so… ”
“Stop,” Bianca could feel the sting of tears in her eyes, “don’t do this.” Her hand crept forward and rested on top of the tanner one, “I understand how you feel.”
“Understand?” scoffed Frankie, “Were you on that platform too?”
“I had to, Frankie. I couldn’t go with you. I wanted to so much.”
“That’d mean not being with your gal.” Frankie snorted, “Tell me, was it her you left me for? Or was someone else in between? Or aren’t you the sort of girl to tell?”
Bianca’s jaw clenched at the hurtful words. She withdrew her hand, “Damn you, Frankie.”
“You already did, honey.”
Shaking her head, Bianca turned on her heels and strode away. It only took a few steps for a hand to catch her wrist and stop her, “Wait.”
Bianca faced Frankie, “This was a mistake.”
Frankie’s face fell “Don’t say that.”
Bianca sucked in a lungful of air at the despondent look.
“Come on.” Frankie tugged her to the hidden stairwell, “This ain’t a conversation for a bar.”
Bianca allowed herself to be led up the stairs and into what looked to be a private apartment. It dawned on her this was where Frankie lived. Spartan but worn, the placed was small and cozy. A half filled bottle of gin sat next to a thumbed through book and deck of cards. The bed was clumsily made and the window looked out to the street below. Frankie released her wrist and moved to it, shutting the blinds and blocking out the moonlight and any possible prying eyes.
Bianca opened her mouth to say something, but she wasn’t sure what to say. She’d gone to Frankie’s knowing she needed to see the other woman. That was what urged her on. The undeniable need and want to see Frankie once more. Now that she was there, with Frankie so close, words escaped her. She spoke the first thing that came to mind, “You are still rather terrible at making a bed.”
Frankie moved away from the blinds and toward Bianca, stopping at the corner of the bed, “You would make up for my mistakes and let me pay you back at night by messing it all up again. Haven’t quite found someone else who will yet.”
A bolt of heat sliced through Bianca at the memories those words evoked. “I remember.”
“You remember Paris, then? Remember the way you used to let me touch you. Kiss you.”
She never forgot, “I remember how I used to hold you.”
Frankie’s jaw worked, “Why are you here?”
“Because I miss you.” It was as honest of a truth as there ever was.
“Coulda sent a postcard.”
Bianca slowly moved to Frankie, each step measured and purposeful, “I did love you, Frankie.”
Frankie’s jaw trembled.
Bianca stopped inches from her, the muted heat of their bodies converging, “I still do.” An anxious breath, “Do you still love me?”
Her answer was a fiery kiss.
Their lips crashed together, both moaning at the contact. Arms wrapped around Bianca’s waist as her own hands cupped Frankie’s face. Their lips met again and again, short wet sloppy kisses impassioned with long suppressed desire. Bianca’s mind whirled at the taste of gin and tobacco that filled her mouth and penetrated her senses. She urged Frankie closer, pressing into the shorter body and gasping as cotton covered breasts brushed against her. Her tongue danced with Frankie’s, soothing and challenging her lover with each flick and dip.
Their lips tore apart as fingers dug into Bianca’s back, bunching up the material of her blouse. Lips attached to her throat, nibbling at the tender flesh. A wet tongue soothed each bite. Bianca’s head tilted to the side, wordlessly begging for more. Her hand tangled in Frankie’s hair, pleading for more of the electrifying touches. The hot mouth on her flesh matched the burning blaze scorching her blood and raging across her mind. Her body arched when Frankie’s fingers tugged at the blouse, lifting it up and diving beneath it, spreading across the skin of Bianca’s back.
Needing to see Frankie, feel her, be with her in a way she hadn’t since their fateful interlude in Paris, Bianca pressed her hand against Frankie’s hip. She maneuvered her backwards, giving a light shove. Frankie easily understood. She tumbled back onto the bed, landing on the wrinkled blanket. She peered up at Bianca though hooded eyes.
Bianca felt the heady look in her soul.
She climbed onto the bed, crawling over Frankie like she’d done so many times before. Their mouths met, a slow burn of languid tongues and intoxicating lips. Slow and drawn out, Bianca tasted every inch, felt every ounce of hunger and emotion churning within her old lover. It made her head spin with its intensity.
Frankie’s arms lifted, but Bianca caught them and forced them back down.
“Honey,” Frankie groaned into the kiss.
“Shh,” Bianca flicked the tip of her tongue across the edge of Frankie’s mouth, teasing the tiny dip, “let me make love to you, Franks.”
Frankie’s head rolled back at the whispered offer. Bianca kissed her cheek, mouth trailing down her jaw and neck, relearning a path she once knew so well. Her hands slid down Frankie’s arms, running over her sides before tackling the buttons of her shirt. She kissed her way to Frankie’s collarbone, sucking at the hollow. She smiled as Frankie inhaled sharply.
The buttons of the shirt gave way quickly. Bianca pushed the cotton back, revealing a smooth flat stomach and unblemished flesh. Heat tightened in her belly at the sight, and she marveled at how perfect Frankie still was. Her hands ran over defined muscles, tracing the taut belly. Lowering herself, Bianca pressed a light kiss near her belly button blowing a breath of warm air over the skin. The muscles flexed and Frankie’s hips jerked slightly. Tanned hands sunk into the blankets, hanging on.
Bianca gently kissed her way up Frankie’s body, tender loving caresses. Took her time, relearning each curve, every freckle. Relishing the chance to worship the body she remembered with so much fondness, had made love to so many times. She undid the cotton bra covering pert breasts and pulled it away.
“You are so beautiful.” She whispered, cupping the breasts in her palms. She massaged the mounds, kissing the curve of Frankie’s shoulder.
“Bianca,” Frankie whimpered, eyelashes blinking.
Legs straddling Frankie’s hips, Bianca sat up. She watched as Frankie’s glazed eyes followed her movements. She swiftly grasped the ends of her blouse, tugging it over her head and letting it fall to the floor. A blush coated her cheeks at the wondrous look Frankie sent her. Like she was staring up at a goddess. The older girl sat up, eyes never leaving Bianca’s. A quivering finger captured an errant strand of dark hair and lovingly slid it back behind Bianca’s ear, tips caressing Bianca’s forehead in the process. Her hand slid down to cup Bianca’s jaw. She searched for the right words to say, but nothing could properly describe what resided in her heart. Instead, she pushed up and guided Bianca down until they met in a tender kiss.
This was what she’d missed since Paris. This feeling of fulfillment. Of undiluted pure passionate love. No fear or uncertainty.
Only the two of them together.
Unrelenting undeniable love.
Bianca leaned forward, the two of them falling back onto the bed. She smoothed her hands down the length of Frankie’s arms, pressing their palms together and lacing their fingers, pushing Frankie’s hands into the bed. Her face hovered over Frankie’s, watching the feelings play out across the face and eyes she could read so well.
“I love you,” Bianca whispered. “I have always loved you.”
Their eyes locked.
Suddenly, Frankie flipped them over. Bianca gasped as her back hit the blankets. Frankie untangled one of their hands and reached between them, tearing at the fabric of Bianca’s skirt and undergarment. The material fell away and Bianca gasped as the cool night air met her sensitive flesh. Her legs shook as Frankie lightly nipped at her inner thigh. She kissed back and forth, up to Bianca’s hipbone and down to her knee. Soft and unhurried, again and again.
“Frankie,” Bianca mewled.
Her eyes slammed closed as a tentative mouth kissed her folds.
Her hips jerked as fingers opened her, and a tongue tapped her hardened nub. Her breaths quickened when lips sucked at her clit. Frankie dipped a finger along her slit, coating it in the sticky wetness.
Bianca bit her lip as the finger eased inside of her.
“Oh…oh my…” the finger slowly slid back and forth, another joining it. The mouth released her clit, and a shock of cool air blew against it. She squeezed the hand still clenched in her own, “Faster, Frankie.”
Her mouth opened and her back bent as three fingers slammed into her. Frankie’s face appeared above her, kissing her cheeks and temple. In and out, the fingers moved faster and faster. She clutched at Frankie’s back and hand. Her hips met each thrust.
“I love you.” Frankie murmured against her temple. The heel of her hand rubbed the engorged nub. “I love you, Bianca.”
The world exploded in a burst of light and sound. Bianca arched into Frankie, calling out as waves of pleasure flooded her body. They rode it out together, the thrusts slowing and gentle kisses nuzzling her hair.
As her senses came back to her, Bianca turned in Frankie’s hold. She kissed her chest and throat, hand sliding from her back and skimming up her front to cup her breast. Her other hand dropped down to Frankie’s trousers, fumbling with the buttons before ripping it away along with her underwear. She could feel the heat against her thigh.
She nearly whimpered as her fingers met warmth. Frankie was wet and ready for her. She peered into brown eyes as she slid two fingers inside. Frankie shuddered, blinking rapidly at the sensation. Bianca had never felt anything so good. Her fingers steadily pumped in and out. She watched Frankie breath in time with the thrusts, air catching each time she slid back in. She squeezed Frankie’s breast, flicking the nipple with the tip of her nail before capturing it between her teeth. She sucked on the small pebble, letting her tongue tease it.
“Bianca,”
“Bianca,”
“Hey, Bianca!”
The world sharply fell away, replaced by darkness. Bianca tensed as her eyes blinked open.
What?
Where?
How?
She had been dreaming.
Oh boy.
She carefully peeked over to see Frankie looking at her with a raised eyebrow. The girl hooked a thumb at the television, “Movie’s over.” The credits to Casablanca were scrolling on the screen.
“Oh,” Bianca swallowed, her throat dry.
“For wanting to watch it, you sure slept through a lot.” Frankie clambered to her feet and picked up the popcorn bowl. “Told you we should have watched Terminator.”
“It…it’s a good movie.” Bianca wiped at her eyes.
“The two don’t even end up together.” Frankie walked toward the kitchen.
Bianca pressed a hand to her head. A dream. She’d fallen asleep while watching the movie with Frankie. She snagged her bottom lip with her teeth. Her heart was racing. Wow, what a dream.
“Hey, Bianca?”
“Yeah?”
Frankie smirked, “Have a nice dream?”
Bianca froze as Frankie went into the kitchen.
Author: Fab_fan
Fandom: All My Children
Pairing: Bianca/Frankie, Bianca/Sarah
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. At all. Not one iota.
Summary: Casablanca was many things, and dangerous was at the forefront of that list
The night was far from young when Bianca silently slipped out of bed and into a skirt and blouse. The moon was high in the sky and the stars were tiny bright specks in the infinite sea of black. The building was quiet save for the gentle breathing of her companion. Her soft wheezing breaths fell evenly, and her shoulders rose and fell as she sleepily turned onto her side, facing away from Bianca. Bianca glanced at her as she soundlessly slid on her shoes and picked up her purse. She held her breath for a moment, watching the slumbering woman. The woman she had built a life with far before the chaos and mess that befell the world.
Far before life tore them apart and introduced an unexpected surprise into Bianca’s existence.
As quietly as possible, Bianca opened the door to the room and snuck out, gently closing it behind her with only the click of the lock sparking in the still air. Once out of the room, she darted down the hallway, bypassing the elevator and taking the stairs two at a time. When she burst out the front door of the building, the night air caressed her like a welcoming lover. Warm and soft, it weaved into her long thick hair and tickled her pink lips. With one last glance at the window on the third floor, Bianca ducked down the road.
She ran as quickly as she could, heels clacking against the pavement. She kept her gaze on every passing corner and her ears open for any sound besides her own footsteps. It would not bode well for her to have a German soldier or even one of the French police spot her out this late, especially on her own. Casablanca was many things, and dangerous was at the forefront of that list.
Turning the final corner, her destination came into view. The lights of the sign were still lit, burning like a beacon to a weary lost traveler. She stumbled toward it, drawn like a moth to a flame…or a sinner to heaven. The door opened easily for her.
The café was empty. What was earlier bustling wall to wall with patrons indulging in drinks and listening to the piano while others challenged their luck at games of risk and chance in the back was now bare. Hollow. Like a ghost. The chairs were pushed up tight against the tables, and the dance floor was freshly swept, free of any clutter. She carefully stepped further into the room, teeth biting her bottom lip. Had this been a mistake?
Her steps stopped as she spotted movement out of the corner of her eye.
A door swung open near the bar, and two figures emerged. One was rather young with sharp blue eyes and a laughing cheerful disposition. The other was a bit older, face hardened by years of unrelenting trouble and strain.
She knew them both from her past. A past she never spoke of to anyone.
Petey and Frankie.
One was her friend. The other a lover.
Petey ambled over to the piano, hand gliding over the ivory keys with bred familiarity.
“Play it, Petey.”
Bianca blinked as Petey’s hand froze, “Pardon?”
Frankie slid behind the bar, plucking up a bottle and tipping it so a few fingers of the amber liquid sloshed into a glass. She set the bottle down and swigged back the drink. “Play the damn song.”
Petey’s eyes widened, “Now, Frankie…”
The glass slammed down to the counter as Frankie reached back for the bottle, “What’s the matter? We both know you can play it. Play it!”
“You said to never play that song.”
“You’re right. I did.” Frankie tipped back another swallow of the alcohol, “You know what I want to hear.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You played it for her, you can play it for me!”
“Well, I don’t think I can remember…”
“If she can stand it, I can! Play it!”
Petey nodded and sat down at the piano. His fingers hovered over the keys, hesitant. He shot a look at Frankie before pressing down on the ivory.
Bianca felt her chest tighten as the familiar song she’d requested earlier that day floated on the air. Haunting and beautiful.
You must remember this. A kiss is still a kiss. A sigh is just a sigh. The fundamental things apply. As time goes by.
She watched as Frankie slumped against the bar, mouth thin and unwavering but eyes belaying the pain the melody invoked inside of her. Bianca could see it all, feel the same ache inside of her heart.
She could never stand to see her love in pain.
Bianca walked further into the café, alerting the other two to her presence. Frankie peered over at her, gaze hardening as her grip on the glass tightened. Petey stopped playing, looking back and forth between the two before closing the lid over the keys and quickly pushing the piano away to a far corner.
Frankie’s eyes trailed over Bianca’s form, watching her walk over to the bar, “We’re closed.”
“I was hoping we could talk.”
“Sure, doll. We can talk over breakfast tomorrow. Be sure to invite your girlfriend. I’ll make eggs.”
“Frankie.” She sighed. It hurt. It hurt worse than she ever expected. “I didn’t expect you to be here. If I knew you were in Casablanca…”
“You’d have sent me flowers instead?” Frankie pushed back from the counter and spun around, grabbed another bottle from the shelf behind her, “No, that’d mean you’d want to see me. And we both know you never wanted to see me.”
“That’s not true.” She never forgot about Frankie. Had pictured her face in her mind more often than she’d ever admit to anyone.
Frankie set another glass on the bar, “Drink?”
“I do not think we should be drinking right now.”
“And I don’t think we should be having this conversation, but here we are.” Frankie poured the liquid into the glasses. “Ain’t it a bit late? Shouldn’t you be in bed? Wouldn’t want your gal to worry.”
“Don’t, Frankie.” This conversation would only bring more pain, and neither really wanted that. Bianca did not want to discuss Sarah with Frankie. She never had.
“Alright, then. What should we talk about?” Frankie lifted her glass, “Drink up, sweetheart. Poured it just for you.”
“No, Frankie. Not tonight.”
“Especially tonight.” Frankie downed her drink in one shot.
Bianca could see the glassy haze descending on Frankie’s brown eyes, “Please,”
“Why’d you have to come here? Of all the gin joints in the world…” Frankie grasped the bottle, “of all the damn towns and cities out there, you had to come to Casablanca.”
“I’m sorry, Franks.”
The bottle rattled as it hit the bar. A choked tear stained chuckle barked out harshly, “Sorry? You know, I’ve heard that before. In that exact same voice. Heard it every night for a year. I’m sorry, Franks. Sorry for…for not meeting you like I said I would. Sorry for not being at that train station.” Her palm flattened on the wood, “You sure missed quite a show, Bianca. A woman standing there alone in the rain on the train station platform. Soaked through with a funny look on her face waiting for someone who was never going to show up. Quite a sight. Comedy of the year. Almost as funny as Franks, honey, I love you so… ”
“Stop,” Bianca could feel the sting of tears in her eyes, “don’t do this.” Her hand crept forward and rested on top of the tanner one, “I understand how you feel.”
“Understand?” scoffed Frankie, “Were you on that platform too?”
“I had to, Frankie. I couldn’t go with you. I wanted to so much.”
“That’d mean not being with your gal.” Frankie snorted, “Tell me, was it her you left me for? Or was someone else in between? Or aren’t you the sort of girl to tell?”
Bianca’s jaw clenched at the hurtful words. She withdrew her hand, “Damn you, Frankie.”
“You already did, honey.”
Shaking her head, Bianca turned on her heels and strode away. It only took a few steps for a hand to catch her wrist and stop her, “Wait.”
Bianca faced Frankie, “This was a mistake.”
Frankie’s face fell “Don’t say that.”
Bianca sucked in a lungful of air at the despondent look.
“Come on.” Frankie tugged her to the hidden stairwell, “This ain’t a conversation for a bar.”
Bianca allowed herself to be led up the stairs and into what looked to be a private apartment. It dawned on her this was where Frankie lived. Spartan but worn, the placed was small and cozy. A half filled bottle of gin sat next to a thumbed through book and deck of cards. The bed was clumsily made and the window looked out to the street below. Frankie released her wrist and moved to it, shutting the blinds and blocking out the moonlight and any possible prying eyes.
Bianca opened her mouth to say something, but she wasn’t sure what to say. She’d gone to Frankie’s knowing she needed to see the other woman. That was what urged her on. The undeniable need and want to see Frankie once more. Now that she was there, with Frankie so close, words escaped her. She spoke the first thing that came to mind, “You are still rather terrible at making a bed.”
Frankie moved away from the blinds and toward Bianca, stopping at the corner of the bed, “You would make up for my mistakes and let me pay you back at night by messing it all up again. Haven’t quite found someone else who will yet.”
A bolt of heat sliced through Bianca at the memories those words evoked. “I remember.”
“You remember Paris, then? Remember the way you used to let me touch you. Kiss you.”
She never forgot, “I remember how I used to hold you.”
Frankie’s jaw worked, “Why are you here?”
“Because I miss you.” It was as honest of a truth as there ever was.
“Coulda sent a postcard.”
Bianca slowly moved to Frankie, each step measured and purposeful, “I did love you, Frankie.”
Frankie’s jaw trembled.
Bianca stopped inches from her, the muted heat of their bodies converging, “I still do.” An anxious breath, “Do you still love me?”
Her answer was a fiery kiss.
Their lips crashed together, both moaning at the contact. Arms wrapped around Bianca’s waist as her own hands cupped Frankie’s face. Their lips met again and again, short wet sloppy kisses impassioned with long suppressed desire. Bianca’s mind whirled at the taste of gin and tobacco that filled her mouth and penetrated her senses. She urged Frankie closer, pressing into the shorter body and gasping as cotton covered breasts brushed against her. Her tongue danced with Frankie’s, soothing and challenging her lover with each flick and dip.
Their lips tore apart as fingers dug into Bianca’s back, bunching up the material of her blouse. Lips attached to her throat, nibbling at the tender flesh. A wet tongue soothed each bite. Bianca’s head tilted to the side, wordlessly begging for more. Her hand tangled in Frankie’s hair, pleading for more of the electrifying touches. The hot mouth on her flesh matched the burning blaze scorching her blood and raging across her mind. Her body arched when Frankie’s fingers tugged at the blouse, lifting it up and diving beneath it, spreading across the skin of Bianca’s back.
Needing to see Frankie, feel her, be with her in a way she hadn’t since their fateful interlude in Paris, Bianca pressed her hand against Frankie’s hip. She maneuvered her backwards, giving a light shove. Frankie easily understood. She tumbled back onto the bed, landing on the wrinkled blanket. She peered up at Bianca though hooded eyes.
Bianca felt the heady look in her soul.
She climbed onto the bed, crawling over Frankie like she’d done so many times before. Their mouths met, a slow burn of languid tongues and intoxicating lips. Slow and drawn out, Bianca tasted every inch, felt every ounce of hunger and emotion churning within her old lover. It made her head spin with its intensity.
Frankie’s arms lifted, but Bianca caught them and forced them back down.
“Honey,” Frankie groaned into the kiss.
“Shh,” Bianca flicked the tip of her tongue across the edge of Frankie’s mouth, teasing the tiny dip, “let me make love to you, Franks.”
Frankie’s head rolled back at the whispered offer. Bianca kissed her cheek, mouth trailing down her jaw and neck, relearning a path she once knew so well. Her hands slid down Frankie’s arms, running over her sides before tackling the buttons of her shirt. She kissed her way to Frankie’s collarbone, sucking at the hollow. She smiled as Frankie inhaled sharply.
The buttons of the shirt gave way quickly. Bianca pushed the cotton back, revealing a smooth flat stomach and unblemished flesh. Heat tightened in her belly at the sight, and she marveled at how perfect Frankie still was. Her hands ran over defined muscles, tracing the taut belly. Lowering herself, Bianca pressed a light kiss near her belly button blowing a breath of warm air over the skin. The muscles flexed and Frankie’s hips jerked slightly. Tanned hands sunk into the blankets, hanging on.
Bianca gently kissed her way up Frankie’s body, tender loving caresses. Took her time, relearning each curve, every freckle. Relishing the chance to worship the body she remembered with so much fondness, had made love to so many times. She undid the cotton bra covering pert breasts and pulled it away.
“You are so beautiful.” She whispered, cupping the breasts in her palms. She massaged the mounds, kissing the curve of Frankie’s shoulder.
“Bianca,” Frankie whimpered, eyelashes blinking.
Legs straddling Frankie’s hips, Bianca sat up. She watched as Frankie’s glazed eyes followed her movements. She swiftly grasped the ends of her blouse, tugging it over her head and letting it fall to the floor. A blush coated her cheeks at the wondrous look Frankie sent her. Like she was staring up at a goddess. The older girl sat up, eyes never leaving Bianca’s. A quivering finger captured an errant strand of dark hair and lovingly slid it back behind Bianca’s ear, tips caressing Bianca’s forehead in the process. Her hand slid down to cup Bianca’s jaw. She searched for the right words to say, but nothing could properly describe what resided in her heart. Instead, she pushed up and guided Bianca down until they met in a tender kiss.
This was what she’d missed since Paris. This feeling of fulfillment. Of undiluted pure passionate love. No fear or uncertainty.
Only the two of them together.
Unrelenting undeniable love.
Bianca leaned forward, the two of them falling back onto the bed. She smoothed her hands down the length of Frankie’s arms, pressing their palms together and lacing their fingers, pushing Frankie’s hands into the bed. Her face hovered over Frankie’s, watching the feelings play out across the face and eyes she could read so well.
“I love you,” Bianca whispered. “I have always loved you.”
Their eyes locked.
Suddenly, Frankie flipped them over. Bianca gasped as her back hit the blankets. Frankie untangled one of their hands and reached between them, tearing at the fabric of Bianca’s skirt and undergarment. The material fell away and Bianca gasped as the cool night air met her sensitive flesh. Her legs shook as Frankie lightly nipped at her inner thigh. She kissed back and forth, up to Bianca’s hipbone and down to her knee. Soft and unhurried, again and again.
“Frankie,” Bianca mewled.
Her eyes slammed closed as a tentative mouth kissed her folds.
Her hips jerked as fingers opened her, and a tongue tapped her hardened nub. Her breaths quickened when lips sucked at her clit. Frankie dipped a finger along her slit, coating it in the sticky wetness.
Bianca bit her lip as the finger eased inside of her.
“Oh…oh my…” the finger slowly slid back and forth, another joining it. The mouth released her clit, and a shock of cool air blew against it. She squeezed the hand still clenched in her own, “Faster, Frankie.”
Her mouth opened and her back bent as three fingers slammed into her. Frankie’s face appeared above her, kissing her cheeks and temple. In and out, the fingers moved faster and faster. She clutched at Frankie’s back and hand. Her hips met each thrust.
“I love you.” Frankie murmured against her temple. The heel of her hand rubbed the engorged nub. “I love you, Bianca.”
The world exploded in a burst of light and sound. Bianca arched into Frankie, calling out as waves of pleasure flooded her body. They rode it out together, the thrusts slowing and gentle kisses nuzzling her hair.
As her senses came back to her, Bianca turned in Frankie’s hold. She kissed her chest and throat, hand sliding from her back and skimming up her front to cup her breast. Her other hand dropped down to Frankie’s trousers, fumbling with the buttons before ripping it away along with her underwear. She could feel the heat against her thigh.
She nearly whimpered as her fingers met warmth. Frankie was wet and ready for her. She peered into brown eyes as she slid two fingers inside. Frankie shuddered, blinking rapidly at the sensation. Bianca had never felt anything so good. Her fingers steadily pumped in and out. She watched Frankie breath in time with the thrusts, air catching each time she slid back in. She squeezed Frankie’s breast, flicking the nipple with the tip of her nail before capturing it between her teeth. She sucked on the small pebble, letting her tongue tease it.
“Bianca,”
“Bianca,”
“Hey, Bianca!”
The world sharply fell away, replaced by darkness. Bianca tensed as her eyes blinked open.
What?
Where?
How?
She had been dreaming.
Oh boy.
She carefully peeked over to see Frankie looking at her with a raised eyebrow. The girl hooked a thumb at the television, “Movie’s over.” The credits to Casablanca were scrolling on the screen.
“Oh,” Bianca swallowed, her throat dry.
“For wanting to watch it, you sure slept through a lot.” Frankie clambered to her feet and picked up the popcorn bowl. “Told you we should have watched Terminator.”
“It…it’s a good movie.” Bianca wiped at her eyes.
“The two don’t even end up together.” Frankie walked toward the kitchen.
Bianca pressed a hand to her head. A dream. She’d fallen asleep while watching the movie with Frankie. She snagged her bottom lip with her teeth. Her heart was racing. Wow, what a dream.
“Hey, Bianca?”
“Yeah?”
Frankie smirked, “Have a nice dream?”
Bianca froze as Frankie went into the kitchen.