"The Inmates," Snippet 3
Here's some more of the story I'm writing for Mom, following Part One and Part Two. The majority of this section will get edited out of the version I give to Mom. It should be self-explanatory WHY once you've read it. ~g~
Richard left her alone in the lending library after lunch. Rita wasn't hopeful, but the first shelf she examined had a handful of titles she recognized. She found a shelf mostly dedicated to romance novels, including authors like Sharon Sala and Nora Roberts. She chose one of the Sharon Sala books and carried it to an armchair as she read the summary on the back. She sat down and flipped open to the first page. An hour later when she was still reading, she decided to sign the book out and take it back to her room.
She started on the couch, sitting with her back turned to the end table so the lamplight fell onto the page. The position reminded her of how she used to sit and read while Joan worked on her puzzle. They were both retired, and their evenings were either quiet or played out to a soundtrack of classic rock on the radio.
Sometimes Joan sang along under her breath, and Rita would close her book on her thumb to listen. Most people who sang along to the radio were irritating, tuneless crooners who ruined everyone else's enjoyment. Joan, on the other hand, added beautiful harmonies that Rita had never realized the original songs were lacking. When she was alone and heard the songs on the radio, they always sounded unfinished without Joan.
The sky darkened prematurely, and Rita looked toward the window as the first fat droplets of rain splashed against the glass. It didn't take long before the splatters were replaced by long, streaking rivers as the rain began falling in full force.
"Hurry!"
"I have to find the key!"
Joan pressed against Rita's back, trying to join her under the eaves of the house. They were trying to get in the side door, because Rita had sworn she'd left it unlocked, but apparently her memory was faulty. That side of the house didn't have gutters, so the rain cascaded off the roof and poured directly into the wide collar of Joan's blouse. She shrieked, and Rita stepped to one side and ushered her into the warmth of the kitchen.
"Stay right there. Let me get you a towel."
Joan either nodded or suffered an extremely exaggerated shudder. Either way she didn't move as Rita went into the laundry room and pulled a large white towel from the top of the stack of clean laundry. She fluffed it and carried it back to where Joan waited, wrapping it around her shoulders and pushing the ends up into Joan's short blonde hair. She rubbed vigorously and Joan bowed her head to make sure Rita could reach it all.
Standing this close to her, it was hard for Rita not to notice the best parts of Joan's face. She had high, arching eyebrows that matched the light blonde of her hair, and an aristocratic nose that would have looked big on any other face. Her eyes were so large that they were almost round, and they crowded the bridge of her nose in a way that, again, wouldn't have worked on another woman's face.
She was dressed for a nice walk through the neighborhood, her lightweight peasant blouse and red slacks were no match for the sudden storm. She was soaked to the skin, and her skin had erupted in goosebumps.
Joan looked down at the floor. "We're dripping all over your tile."
"So?" Rita tucked the towel around Joan's neck. "I might have some clothes you can borrow until these get dry. Let me go look?"
Joan nodded and Rita pulled herself away. Their talk had been harder than she expected. After a friendship that blossomed into flirtation, and after the flirtation had turned into something more serious for them both. Joan had pulled away to "think things over" and, when she returned, she'd broken off her engagement. She insisted the decision was hers alone, and she didn't expect anything from Rita in return. Rita still felt responsible. She wasn't ready to take that step. It was a dangerous step and it meant so many big decisions had to be made. She didn't want to upset the applecart.
She quickly changed out of her wet clothes, leaving them on the bathroom floor and hastily pulling on a sleeveless dress. She found a blouse that was too big for her and a skirt that could be let out a little for Joan's hips. She draped the clothes over her arm and carried them out into the front room.
There was an iron heating vent in the floor between the kitchen and the living room, and Joan was kneeling next to it. Her clothes were stretched out over the grate, looking like a woman made of ice had melted there. Joan was wrapped in her towel, her arms and shoulders bare. When she looked up, her knees were tight against her chest and it was very easy for Rita to imagine her naked. She swallowed a lump in her throat and looked down at the clothes in her hands.
"I think these will fit you."
"Thank you."
Joan stood and crossed the living room to take the clothes. She folded them against her chest and then stood still, as if unsure what she should do.
"I can change in the bathroom."
"Sure." She put her hand on Joan's arm and kept her from moving. Joan looked down at Rita's fingers, which looked dark against her skin. "Would you have left him if I wasn't in your life?"
Joan took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her eyelashes were like soot against her skin. Finally she opened her eyes again and looked at Rita.
"If I didn't know you, the reasons I left him would have been easier to ignore."
Rita didn't think. She cupped Joan's face and leaned in. Joan was barefoot so she didn't have to stretch, and their lips met. It was cautious at first, and Rita started to pull back almost immediately. She kept her eyes open so she saw when Joan's closed. Joan leaned into her, and Rita allowed her lips to be parted with a soft touch of Joan's tongue.
It was this moment they had been unknowingly debating about during their walk. They had danced around the subject, using hypothetical situations and euphemisms. Rita had been glad Joan wouldn't be blunt because it helped her deny that they were really talking about becoming lovers. Joan was willing, but Rita was more terrified than she'd ever been in her life.
Denial stopped being an option when the kiss became more passionate.
Joan was the one who ended the kiss. She turned her head and brushed her cheek against Rita's, and she sounded like she was struggling for every breath.
"We ought to stop." She slid her arms around the clothes Rita was holding like a suit of armor and pulled them to her chest. "The bathroom?"
"Mm-hmm."
Rita let Joan pull away from her and felt like a flag pole being rocked by the breeze. She felt alone and uprooted. The bathroom light came on behind her, and Rita could see her shadow mingling with Joan in the square of light that fell on the floor.
"Do you love me?"
Joan stood in the bathroom doorway, but Rita couldn't bring herself to turn around and face her. It had taken all the strength she had just to say the words.
"For a long time," Joan said.
The bathroom door closed then, and Rita was left alone in the dark living room. She crossed her arms over her chest and closed her eyes as the rain drummed on the roof overhead.
Rita lay on the couch, the book closed and forgotten on her chest. She was crying, but she wasn't even sure if they were tears of sadness for Joan or happiness at the memory she'd been reliving. She wiped them with the back of her hand, inhaled sharply, and adjusted her shoulders so that her head lay more comfortable on the arm of the couch.
"We don't have to."
"You might not have to. I do."
They were sitting on the couch, Rita's legs tucked under her and her body turned to face Joan. She ran her forefinger down the placket of Joan's shirt. The collar was scooped, showing off a good portion of her shoulders and upper chest. She wore a floor-length denim skirt and she was barefoot. Rita wore trousers, as she usually did when she was home, and a button-down blouse. Her hair, thick and black was gathered in a bulky ponytail that reached the middle of her back. Joan's fingers were in it.
"A long time ago, I made peace with the fact I would never fulfill this... want. Then you came along and the want became a need. I need to be with you, Joan."
Joan took a deep breath and released Rita's hair. "Then be with me."
They kissed, and Rita gave herself over to the emotion of the moment. Joan ran her fingers through Rita's hair once it was free. Rita flattened her hand on Joan's chest and pushed gently, following her down. She shifted her weight, and Joan lifted her feet off the floor to stretch out on the cushions as Rita settled on top of her. They kissed, taking the time to get accustomed to the feel of being pressed against each other. Rita found she didn't need much time at all to get used to it, but she took a little longer than was necessary anyway.
Joan's eyes were wide open when Rita looked at her again. Joan touched the highest button of Rita's shirt and swallowed hard.
"Don't hold it against me if I do this wrong."
"Same goes. Do you want to go in the bedroom?"
Joan nodded. Rita sat up and took Joan by the hand, guiding her through the hall to the bedroom. They left the door open, the light from the living room bright enough to see by.
She and Joan stood a few inches apart, just enough distance so they could see one another but still touch. "Can you undress yourself? I don't think I can..."
"Sure." Joan's voice was barely more than a whisper, but it was loud enough. She started at the collar and undid the three buttons of her shirt. The two halves hung open enough that Rita could see the edges of Joan's brassiere. She wet her lips with a quick swipe of her tongue. Joan smiled and put her hands behind her back. The move made her back arch, and her breasts strained against the material of her blouse as she undid the buttons on the back of her dress. She put her hands on her hips and bent forward to guide the material down her thighs.
Then it fell, and Joan took a step back. While Rita was still getting used to the site of her bare legs, Joan pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it. Her hair was tossed by the removal of her shirt and a wave of it fell over her eye.
"Your turn."
"You're beautiful, Joan."
She saw Joan's throat move, recognized the anxiety in her eyes. She unbuttoned her blouse and left it hanging open as she unfastened her belt. She shrugged out of the shirt, dropped it on top of Joan's, and then stepped forward. She took Joan's hand and put it on her stomach. Joan's fingers curled around the waistband of Rita's pants and they both held their breath.
"Take 'em off."
The button came loose, and Joan crouched to pull the pants down. Rita stepped out of the legs and Joan wrapped her arms around her waist. She pressed her head into the hollow of Rita's hip and hugged her tightly.
"I know I'm doing it wrong. I just want to hold you."
Rita stroked her hair. "That doesn't have to be wrong. Move to the bed."
Joan released Rita and stood. They crossed the room together and Rita pulled back the blankets before she climbed onto the mattress. Joan joined her, and they embraced before Rita pulled the blanket back up. She felt Joan's legs against hers and shivered, closing her eyes as Joan kissed her again. It was getting easier, and she was almost able to think while Joan was kissing her now.
One step at a time. She undid the hooks of Joan's bra. Their tongues touched, and Joan whimpered helplessly. She shrugged her shoulders forward and Rita pulled the bra down. She let Joan take off her bra, breaking the kiss to give quiet instructions on how to undo the hooks. Joan chuckled nervously, and Rita kissed her cheek.
"You're doing fine, darling." She looked down and traced the curve of Joan's breast with two fingers. Her nipples were small and pink, and Rita circled them with the tip of her index finger. Joan sucked a breath through her teeth and arched her back, lifting her chin. Rita kissed the column of her throat and Joan made a sound of distress in her throat.
"Are you okay?"
"For the first time since I met you," Joan whispered. "I'm finally relaxed."
"Don't fall asleep on me." Rita brushed her lips along Joan's collarbone.
Joan purred and stroked her fingers down Joan's back. "Not a chance. But go slow. Okay?"
"We can take all night."
"That would..."
Joan's voice caught, and Rita was surprised to hear her sobbing.
"What did I do? Joan? Tell me, please. I'm sorry."
Joan shook her head. "It's not you. It's relief." She kissed Rita desperately. "I've wanted this for so long and I never even realized."
Rita held her until the tears dried up, whispering in her ear while Joan's tears dripped onto her breasts. When the sobs finally quieted, Joan lifted her head and brushed her lips casually across Rita's. Rita parted her lips and their tongues met, and Joan became a woman possessed. Rita found herself flat on her back, her fingers digging into Joan's hips as Joan settled on top of her. Rita pressed her head into the pillow and stared up at Joan, whose face was now veiled by hanging blonde hair. She was hesitating, frozen, and Rita slowly realized what she needed.
She stroked Joan's arms and spoke in a confident voice. "Make love to me, Joan."
"You tell me if I'm doing something wrong." Joan put her hands on the mattress underneath Rita's arms and began to thrust against her. Rita put her hands on Joan's hips and slid them down, under the flimsy barrier of Joan's underwear. Her fingers dug into the soft skin and her eyes rolled back in her head as she pulled Joan to her.
Joan kissed her chin, and Rita came. She shuddered underneath Joan, who held her as steady as possible until she stopped shaking.
"Did I do that to you?" Joan whispered, her voice soft but so loud against Rita's ear.
"That was all you, sweetheart." She brushed her lips over Joan's neck and shoulder. Joan shuddered and tightened her grip. "Can we take a second before I return the favor?"
"Oh. No. It's okay. I came."
Rita smiled. "Well, round two then."
"Round two?"
Rita pushed Joan up and looked into her eyes. Hair was stuck to the sweat on Joan's forehead, and Rita pushed it away with a sweep of her palm.
"I said all night. I meant all night."
Joan shuddered and gasped. "Oh. Okay, then..."
Rita let the tears flow, rolling down her cheeks and onto the couch. The rain had passed, and the last beams of the sun broke through the storm clouds beacons. The metaphysical part of her brain offered the theory that Joan had overheard her memory and was looking down on her. She crossed her arms over her chest and rolled onto her side. It was still early, but an early night sounded like the perfect cure for the pain in her chest.
With any luck, she would have more dreams.
Richard left her alone in the lending library after lunch. Rita wasn't hopeful, but the first shelf she examined had a handful of titles she recognized. She found a shelf mostly dedicated to romance novels, including authors like Sharon Sala and Nora Roberts. She chose one of the Sharon Sala books and carried it to an armchair as she read the summary on the back. She sat down and flipped open to the first page. An hour later when she was still reading, she decided to sign the book out and take it back to her room.
She started on the couch, sitting with her back turned to the end table so the lamplight fell onto the page. The position reminded her of how she used to sit and read while Joan worked on her puzzle. They were both retired, and their evenings were either quiet or played out to a soundtrack of classic rock on the radio.
Sometimes Joan sang along under her breath, and Rita would close her book on her thumb to listen. Most people who sang along to the radio were irritating, tuneless crooners who ruined everyone else's enjoyment. Joan, on the other hand, added beautiful harmonies that Rita had never realized the original songs were lacking. When she was alone and heard the songs on the radio, they always sounded unfinished without Joan.
The sky darkened prematurely, and Rita looked toward the window as the first fat droplets of rain splashed against the glass. It didn't take long before the splatters were replaced by long, streaking rivers as the rain began falling in full force.
"Hurry!"
"I have to find the key!"
Joan pressed against Rita's back, trying to join her under the eaves of the house. They were trying to get in the side door, because Rita had sworn she'd left it unlocked, but apparently her memory was faulty. That side of the house didn't have gutters, so the rain cascaded off the roof and poured directly into the wide collar of Joan's blouse. She shrieked, and Rita stepped to one side and ushered her into the warmth of the kitchen.
"Stay right there. Let me get you a towel."
Joan either nodded or suffered an extremely exaggerated shudder. Either way she didn't move as Rita went into the laundry room and pulled a large white towel from the top of the stack of clean laundry. She fluffed it and carried it back to where Joan waited, wrapping it around her shoulders and pushing the ends up into Joan's short blonde hair. She rubbed vigorously and Joan bowed her head to make sure Rita could reach it all.
Standing this close to her, it was hard for Rita not to notice the best parts of Joan's face. She had high, arching eyebrows that matched the light blonde of her hair, and an aristocratic nose that would have looked big on any other face. Her eyes were so large that they were almost round, and they crowded the bridge of her nose in a way that, again, wouldn't have worked on another woman's face.
She was dressed for a nice walk through the neighborhood, her lightweight peasant blouse and red slacks were no match for the sudden storm. She was soaked to the skin, and her skin had erupted in goosebumps.
Joan looked down at the floor. "We're dripping all over your tile."
"So?" Rita tucked the towel around Joan's neck. "I might have some clothes you can borrow until these get dry. Let me go look?"
Joan nodded and Rita pulled herself away. Their talk had been harder than she expected. After a friendship that blossomed into flirtation, and after the flirtation had turned into something more serious for them both. Joan had pulled away to "think things over" and, when she returned, she'd broken off her engagement. She insisted the decision was hers alone, and she didn't expect anything from Rita in return. Rita still felt responsible. She wasn't ready to take that step. It was a dangerous step and it meant so many big decisions had to be made. She didn't want to upset the applecart.
She quickly changed out of her wet clothes, leaving them on the bathroom floor and hastily pulling on a sleeveless dress. She found a blouse that was too big for her and a skirt that could be let out a little for Joan's hips. She draped the clothes over her arm and carried them out into the front room.
There was an iron heating vent in the floor between the kitchen and the living room, and Joan was kneeling next to it. Her clothes were stretched out over the grate, looking like a woman made of ice had melted there. Joan was wrapped in her towel, her arms and shoulders bare. When she looked up, her knees were tight against her chest and it was very easy for Rita to imagine her naked. She swallowed a lump in her throat and looked down at the clothes in her hands.
"I think these will fit you."
"Thank you."
Joan stood and crossed the living room to take the clothes. She folded them against her chest and then stood still, as if unsure what she should do.
"I can change in the bathroom."
"Sure." She put her hand on Joan's arm and kept her from moving. Joan looked down at Rita's fingers, which looked dark against her skin. "Would you have left him if I wasn't in your life?"
Joan took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her eyelashes were like soot against her skin. Finally she opened her eyes again and looked at Rita.
"If I didn't know you, the reasons I left him would have been easier to ignore."
Rita didn't think. She cupped Joan's face and leaned in. Joan was barefoot so she didn't have to stretch, and their lips met. It was cautious at first, and Rita started to pull back almost immediately. She kept her eyes open so she saw when Joan's closed. Joan leaned into her, and Rita allowed her lips to be parted with a soft touch of Joan's tongue.
It was this moment they had been unknowingly debating about during their walk. They had danced around the subject, using hypothetical situations and euphemisms. Rita had been glad Joan wouldn't be blunt because it helped her deny that they were really talking about becoming lovers. Joan was willing, but Rita was more terrified than she'd ever been in her life.
Denial stopped being an option when the kiss became more passionate.
Joan was the one who ended the kiss. She turned her head and brushed her cheek against Rita's, and she sounded like she was struggling for every breath.
"We ought to stop." She slid her arms around the clothes Rita was holding like a suit of armor and pulled them to her chest. "The bathroom?"
"Mm-hmm."
Rita let Joan pull away from her and felt like a flag pole being rocked by the breeze. She felt alone and uprooted. The bathroom light came on behind her, and Rita could see her shadow mingling with Joan in the square of light that fell on the floor.
"Do you love me?"
Joan stood in the bathroom doorway, but Rita couldn't bring herself to turn around and face her. It had taken all the strength she had just to say the words.
"For a long time," Joan said.
The bathroom door closed then, and Rita was left alone in the dark living room. She crossed her arms over her chest and closed her eyes as the rain drummed on the roof overhead.
Rita lay on the couch, the book closed and forgotten on her chest. She was crying, but she wasn't even sure if they were tears of sadness for Joan or happiness at the memory she'd been reliving. She wiped them with the back of her hand, inhaled sharply, and adjusted her shoulders so that her head lay more comfortable on the arm of the couch.
"We don't have to."
"You might not have to. I do."
They were sitting on the couch, Rita's legs tucked under her and her body turned to face Joan. She ran her forefinger down the placket of Joan's shirt. The collar was scooped, showing off a good portion of her shoulders and upper chest. She wore a floor-length denim skirt and she was barefoot. Rita wore trousers, as she usually did when she was home, and a button-down blouse. Her hair, thick and black was gathered in a bulky ponytail that reached the middle of her back. Joan's fingers were in it.
"A long time ago, I made peace with the fact I would never fulfill this... want. Then you came along and the want became a need. I need to be with you, Joan."
Joan took a deep breath and released Rita's hair. "Then be with me."
They kissed, and Rita gave herself over to the emotion of the moment. Joan ran her fingers through Rita's hair once it was free. Rita flattened her hand on Joan's chest and pushed gently, following her down. She shifted her weight, and Joan lifted her feet off the floor to stretch out on the cushions as Rita settled on top of her. They kissed, taking the time to get accustomed to the feel of being pressed against each other. Rita found she didn't need much time at all to get used to it, but she took a little longer than was necessary anyway.
Joan's eyes were wide open when Rita looked at her again. Joan touched the highest button of Rita's shirt and swallowed hard.
"Don't hold it against me if I do this wrong."
"Same goes. Do you want to go in the bedroom?"
Joan nodded. Rita sat up and took Joan by the hand, guiding her through the hall to the bedroom. They left the door open, the light from the living room bright enough to see by.
She and Joan stood a few inches apart, just enough distance so they could see one another but still touch. "Can you undress yourself? I don't think I can..."
"Sure." Joan's voice was barely more than a whisper, but it was loud enough. She started at the collar and undid the three buttons of her shirt. The two halves hung open enough that Rita could see the edges of Joan's brassiere. She wet her lips with a quick swipe of her tongue. Joan smiled and put her hands behind her back. The move made her back arch, and her breasts strained against the material of her blouse as she undid the buttons on the back of her dress. She put her hands on her hips and bent forward to guide the material down her thighs.
Then it fell, and Joan took a step back. While Rita was still getting used to the site of her bare legs, Joan pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it. Her hair was tossed by the removal of her shirt and a wave of it fell over her eye.
"Your turn."
"You're beautiful, Joan."
She saw Joan's throat move, recognized the anxiety in her eyes. She unbuttoned her blouse and left it hanging open as she unfastened her belt. She shrugged out of the shirt, dropped it on top of Joan's, and then stepped forward. She took Joan's hand and put it on her stomach. Joan's fingers curled around the waistband of Rita's pants and they both held their breath.
"Take 'em off."
The button came loose, and Joan crouched to pull the pants down. Rita stepped out of the legs and Joan wrapped her arms around her waist. She pressed her head into the hollow of Rita's hip and hugged her tightly.
"I know I'm doing it wrong. I just want to hold you."
Rita stroked her hair. "That doesn't have to be wrong. Move to the bed."
Joan released Rita and stood. They crossed the room together and Rita pulled back the blankets before she climbed onto the mattress. Joan joined her, and they embraced before Rita pulled the blanket back up. She felt Joan's legs against hers and shivered, closing her eyes as Joan kissed her again. It was getting easier, and she was almost able to think while Joan was kissing her now.
One step at a time. She undid the hooks of Joan's bra. Their tongues touched, and Joan whimpered helplessly. She shrugged her shoulders forward and Rita pulled the bra down. She let Joan take off her bra, breaking the kiss to give quiet instructions on how to undo the hooks. Joan chuckled nervously, and Rita kissed her cheek.
"You're doing fine, darling." She looked down and traced the curve of Joan's breast with two fingers. Her nipples were small and pink, and Rita circled them with the tip of her index finger. Joan sucked a breath through her teeth and arched her back, lifting her chin. Rita kissed the column of her throat and Joan made a sound of distress in her throat.
"Are you okay?"
"For the first time since I met you," Joan whispered. "I'm finally relaxed."
"Don't fall asleep on me." Rita brushed her lips along Joan's collarbone.
Joan purred and stroked her fingers down Joan's back. "Not a chance. But go slow. Okay?"
"We can take all night."
"That would..."
Joan's voice caught, and Rita was surprised to hear her sobbing.
"What did I do? Joan? Tell me, please. I'm sorry."
Joan shook her head. "It's not you. It's relief." She kissed Rita desperately. "I've wanted this for so long and I never even realized."
Rita held her until the tears dried up, whispering in her ear while Joan's tears dripped onto her breasts. When the sobs finally quieted, Joan lifted her head and brushed her lips casually across Rita's. Rita parted her lips and their tongues met, and Joan became a woman possessed. Rita found herself flat on her back, her fingers digging into Joan's hips as Joan settled on top of her. Rita pressed her head into the pillow and stared up at Joan, whose face was now veiled by hanging blonde hair. She was hesitating, frozen, and Rita slowly realized what she needed.
She stroked Joan's arms and spoke in a confident voice. "Make love to me, Joan."
"You tell me if I'm doing something wrong." Joan put her hands on the mattress underneath Rita's arms and began to thrust against her. Rita put her hands on Joan's hips and slid them down, under the flimsy barrier of Joan's underwear. Her fingers dug into the soft skin and her eyes rolled back in her head as she pulled Joan to her.
Joan kissed her chin, and Rita came. She shuddered underneath Joan, who held her as steady as possible until she stopped shaking.
"Did I do that to you?" Joan whispered, her voice soft but so loud against Rita's ear.
"That was all you, sweetheart." She brushed her lips over Joan's neck and shoulder. Joan shuddered and tightened her grip. "Can we take a second before I return the favor?"
"Oh. No. It's okay. I came."
Rita smiled. "Well, round two then."
"Round two?"
Rita pushed Joan up and looked into her eyes. Hair was stuck to the sweat on Joan's forehead, and Rita pushed it away with a sweep of her palm.
"I said all night. I meant all night."
Joan shuddered and gasped. "Oh. Okay, then..."
Rita let the tears flow, rolling down her cheeks and onto the couch. The rain had passed, and the last beams of the sun broke through the storm clouds beacons. The metaphysical part of her brain offered the theory that Joan had overheard her memory and was looking down on her. She crossed her arms over her chest and rolled onto her side. It was still early, but an early night sounded like the perfect cure for the pain in her chest.
With any luck, she would have more dreams.