It was a dreary November day, with the sky noncommittally pissing down rain throughout, making everything just a hair grayer than November usually is. Claire dragged herself home through the fading dullness of the day, feeling drained and melancholy.
Everyone on the train seemed to be feeling the same as she was; there were forty people in her car and there wasn't even one animated conversation going on. It was just a heavy and colorless day all around. Even her doorman, usually a caricature of cheer and good humor, merely grunted hello as he admitted her to the building.
When Claire finally arrived at her apartment, a wash of good smells and warmth practically assaulted her at the door and instantly shifted her spirits. Trish had taken a hot shower; the steam was still hanging in the air, carrying the sweet aroma of soap and oils to her nose. Mingled with the warm clean smell of Trish was dinner, or at least the beginnings of it. She was finally home, and she smiled for the first time since she had left for work this morning.
She dropped her bags and peeled her coat off just inside the door. Her shoes were next to go. She enjoyed a quick, satisfying stretch. Then a much lighter, much happier, stocking-footed Claire began to prowl through the house looking for her partner.
She found her in the kitchen, still wrapped in a big pink towel, damp from her shower and sitting on the comfy chair. The chair was an old horsehair beast, beat up and abused by many generations of people. It was not easy on the eyes anymore, but sitting in it was like having the perfect embrace; it was utterly cozy and soothing to the whole body.
They had originally thought the chair belonged in the living room, but it had migrated to the kitchen out of practicality. It was the chair everyone wanted to sit in, and the kitchen was the room where everyone wanted to do their sitting. In the end, it only made good sense to let it live there.
Trish was on the phone when Claire came in. She looked up and silently mouthed the word "Mom". Both women rolled their eyes and shared a grin. Claire knew what it meant - dinner was going to be late by at least an hour.
Trish's mother Grace called every three weeks like clockwork to share what the couple had come to call The Grace Monologue. Grace simply needed to unleash all of her concerns, ailments, and frustrations from time to time, and it was Trish's job to simply listen. It was not required - not even tolerated - for Trish to say much. She was simply there to receive the information and make the occasional sympathetic sound.
The monologue usually lasted an hour or two.
Claire picked up with dinner where Trish had left off. She got things finished up quickly, and put the meal in the oven. They had a while before it would be done, so she wrote on the chalkboard by the phone, "Can I get you a drink?" Trish nodded vigorously in response and Claire poured her a glass of wine.
She wandered around the kitchen, flipping through the mail, reading the headlines in the paper, and putting away dishes. The monologue continued. Every time she looked in her lover's direction, the expression of desperation on Trish's face had deepened since the last time.
Claire went and sat at the foot of Trish's chair and cuddled against her legs, resting her head on her lap. They'd been waiting all day to spend a few hours together. They both understood the absolute need Grace felt to rant on occasion; Grace's life was terribly lonely. But still, sometimes it was a little tough to be gracious about the intrusion.
As Claire rested, with her arm curled around Trish's legs, sipping her wine and waiting, she couldn't help but notice that Trish was practically naked. She mouthed, "Are you cold?" Trish shook her head, "No." Then Claire had a playful idea and asked very quietly, "Do you want to warm up?" She had a devious grin on her face when she said it, and Trish caught on in an instant. She slowly nodded, smiling back, and opened her thighs just a little bit in invitation.
Claire dipped her finger into her wine, and raised it to her mouth. She sucked the wine from her own finger, slowly and sensuously closing her eyes. Trish shivered as she watched. She dipped her finger again, this time dabbing the wine onto Trish's inner thigh. Her mouth followed and she gently kissed away the drops. Trish made no sound in response, but let her head roll back and began stroking Claire's hair off of her face.
Claire's kisses wandered. There was no hurry; Grace still clearly had lots to complain about. So she took her time - kissing, teasing with her tongue, and playing with Trish, who remained silent and struggled to keep her breath even and controlled. Claire shifted onto her knees, facing her lover, and set her wine glass down. She used both hands to ease Trish's knees a little wider…
Her fingers peeled back the towel just enough to expose her girlfriend's most sensitive and treasured areas. She gently massaged Trish's soft pink lips; she encouraged them carefully apart with thumb and fingertips and then melded them together again with a smooth caress of all four fingers. She teased with her mouth, not quite touching, but coming closer with each moment, pushing warm breath from deep in the back of her throat over Trish's swollen little clitoris each time it became visible.
Finally, her tongue made the tiniest contact, and Trish made the smallest little catching-her-breath kind of sound. After a pause, Claire heard her saying, "Uh, no, Mom, I'm, I'm fine, go ahead…" The women made eye contact and grinned at each other. Then Claire came home for real.
She took Trish's little hard on into her mouth. She began massaging lovingly with her tongue - slowly, ever so slowly. Her fingers kneaded everywhere they could reach in a steady and soothing rhythm - inner thighs, pelvic muscles, lower abdomen, back to the inner thighs. She kept her kisses even and intense. Her focus was complete. She was still in no hurry.
Trish still struggled to keep control of her breathing, trying to respond at the appropriate moments, and trying to keep from letting Grace know that she was not quite paying complete attention. She lay her head back on the chair, and bit her lower lip in an attempt to stay silent. She held the phone with one hand and stroked Claire encouragingly with the other.
"Uhm, hmm, yeah, Mom, that's, um, really awful…" were the words that escaped her mouth, but her brain was silently screaming something entirely different. Claire kept a slow and steady pace with her kisses, wanting to keep Trish on the edge of release until Grace ran out of annoyances and indignities… It was a tight race, as it seemed Grace had been through an unusually irritating three weeks. The monologue went on.
Trish would have to determine when her mother was about to wrap things up; she would have to let Claire know when it was safe to push it a little farther… Eventually the time came. Trish's hand came down to Claire's shoulder and slid down the back of her arm. When she had a firm hold on her lover's elbow, she gave a long deliberate tug that said, "Please, now."
Claire glanced up at Trish's face, asking silently, "You sure?" Trish smiled, nodded and gave another gentle tug. Claire's practiced hand glided by her mouth and entered her girlfriend with one deft motion. Trish let slip one gasp, just barely audible, but enough for Grace to wonder and ask again, "Honey, are you all right?"
This time, Trish said, "Yeah, Mom, I'm fine. It's just that the potatoes are boiling over. I really should probably get back to dinner now. Claire will be home any minute." This was the perfect answer. Grace was well aware of her daughter's relationship; she just had absolutely no inclination to hear any details about it.
At the mere mention of Claire and the life she and her daughter shared, Grace was eager to get off the phone. "Oh, I'm sorry, Honey. I've kept you too long. I'll let you get back to your dinner now. I've filled you in on all of the important stuff already anyway. I love you Sweetheart. Bye-bye now." And just like that, Grace was off the line.
Trish practically threw the phone to the floor, grasped Claire's face with both hands, and pushed her hips up off the horsehair cushion into her lover's mouth. Claire cut herself loose then, releasing a frenzy of passion with her mouth and fingers, and brought Trish to a shuddering orgasm within minutes.
As the women eased, breathless and grinning, Claire whispered, looking adoringly up at the ceiling and speaking to no one, "Thank you, Grace!"
Trish laughed and pulled Claire up onto her lap, embracing her with a gentle rocking motion and giving tiny kisses on her face. She pointed out between the kisses that they still had a bit of time before dinner… She smiled into Claire's eyes, brushed a few stray hairs from her forehead, and asked, "Can I warm you up?"
