Page 39 of Strap In
‘Go to sleep. I’ve got you.’
‘What about…?’ Jean trails a limp hand down Ava’s belly. But before she can reach her destination Ava takes it, presses a kiss to the back of Jean’s knuckles, and brings their linked fingers to rest outside the duvet.
‘It’s been a big night for you. And I loved every second of it.’ The brush of lips against her temple. ‘Rest now.’
And Jean does.
In the morning Ava takes great pleasure – almost as much as Jean – in a repeat performance. She kisses a trail from Jean’s lips, down her collarbone and throat. Months have passed, and the wonder she finds in Jean’s breasts shows no sign of dulling. Fervent lips lock around her nipple, Ava’s tongue lashing the bud into a stiff peak.
Only when Jean knots her fingers in those silken brown curls and pushes Ava’s head down does she move on. Ava covers Jean’s cunt with her mouth, tongue darting inside until Jean’s trembling grows uncontrollable. Then Ava hums as her tongue finds purchase on Jean’s clit, and that vibration as she suckles sends Jean tipping headfirst over the edge.
Ava doesn’t relent there. With Jean’s sex at eye-level, she skates her fingers through the slippery folds.
‘Show me yours,’ Jean says, and for a moment she fears that vein might burst. But Ava shimmies out of her pyjama shorts and gets on all fours, a knee planted either side of the cinch in Jean’s waist. Then she bends over, raising those pert cheeks to the ceiling, and her centre opens to Jean.
With dawn’s gilded light pouring through the window, it’s the best view Jean’s ever had of another woman’s sex. And not even Ava’s stroking can distract her from this prize. Of all the words that could spring to mind,prettyis the last one Jean expects. Something of a vulva’s look and texture reminds her unavoidably of molluscs, slimy invertebrates curled in a shell. Yet Ava’s pussy is tantalising, her labia neat and even. And Jean’s hand rises of its own volition to chase the secret flash of pink at her core.
Ava’s thighs tremble as Jean’s fingers delve and curl, diving to catch a pearl. And the glisten of her sex, the briney sharpness of her perfume, only urges Jean on. It would be easy to hook both arms around Ava’s unresisting waist and pull her down close enough to taste. Panic paralyses Jean, a great wall of it rising in her chest; an impenetrable barrier to the orgasm Ava’s stroking offers.
Yet Ava herself bucks against Jean’s fingers, cunt clenching. A gasping cry tears from her throat, and she slumps to the side, boneless. But even then, Ava continues her quest, intent on Jean’s pleasure. With a leg draped across Jean’s chest, head pillowed on Jean’s thigh, she pushes two fingers inside slow and easy, applying firm pressure.
With her tongue she laps at Jean’s clit, the tip just glancing – tender from her last orgasm, it’s all Jean can take.
Each time she withdraws there’s an obscene slicking pop. But Jean’s too far gone to care – though dawn’s light has faded, it’s as if she’s absorbed the gold of sunrise through her skin where it licks at her insides, bathing them in pure delight. It fills Jean until there’s no room for breath, no room for anything except the exquisite glide of Ava’s fingers.
A spasmodic post-coital twitch runs though Jean as Ava’s tongue makes a final swipe. And then, looking Jean dead in the eye, she licks her fingers clean. ‘I can’t get enough of the way you taste. It drives me fucking crazy.’
Jean huffs a laugh, sweat cooling in the valley between her breasts. It’s been a long time since her body inspired such ardent confessions. ‘I think you were already a little crazy to begin with.’
Rolling onto her side, Ava drags the duvet with her as she shuffles up the bed, draping it over them both. ‘If that’s true, I don’t want to be sane.’
It’s not long until Ava dozes, thigh draped across Jean’s. But even under that welcome weight Jean can’t join her in the land of nod.
Though Jean feigns sleep, her mind won’t rest. While her limbs are heavy with the golden resonance of orgasm, there is no stilling those thoughts. A persistent fear burrows into her brain: what a cruel joke that Jean should only discover what had been missing now.
Ava smooths the hair back from Jean’s brow and rolls out of bed, footsteps receding. A minute later comes the shower’s dull hiss, the gurgling of pipes, while Jean contemplates the countless nights wasted. Years stacked one on top of the other. Decades, even.
All this time she could have been glorying in her body’s capacity for pleasure. Not openly – there’s no way Jean would have ascended so far in a straitlaced field while shouldering the double burden of being a womanandsome manner of gay. Whenever June ends, every one of their corporate clients lose the rainbow lanyards and Pride-themed merch until next year, when making noise about inclusivity becomes advantageous again. But there could have been other arrangements, discreet and rewarding.
There had been moments with Mari, heads bowed together in laughter, those blue eyes sparkling with mirth, when Jean had imagined daring to close the gap; to press a kiss against her open lips. But Jean had been a sleep-deprived junior associate; on those long nights she’d also thought she’d heard, more than once, her parents’ voices in the neighbouring office. Neither line of enquiry had felt worth pursuing – impossible yearnings better set aside.
Jean sits up, seizing her phone from the bedside table to deal with the inevitable messages. Rhona’s a solid worker, bright and consistent, but her constant need for affirmation grates at Jean’s nerves – it’s a slow weaning process. She types:
Again, good work. Though you don’t need to run every detail by meoutside our 1-2-1s. You have the skills to work independently: usethem.
Seconds later, her phone pings with a response.
Thank you, Ms Howard.
Ava returns then, a dressing gown wrapped around her body and a towel turbaned around her hair. ‘Morning, sleepyhead.’ Ava drops a kiss on her forehead. ‘You okay?’
‘I’m not made of spun glass. You don’t have to keep asking me that.’
‘I know.’ The mattress shifts as Ava plops down beside her, dressing gown peeking open to offer a tantalising glimpse of thigh. ‘But new experiences can bring stuff up. And I wanted to check in.’
‘I’m fine.’ Jean meets those worried eyes. ‘Really.’
Ava’s brow remains creased, a clear indication she doesn’t wholly buy it. But – to Jean’s relief – she doesn’t press further. ‘Alright. How about I cook breakfast while you shower. You’ve earned it.’
