Sleeping with the Frenemy (16 page)

The windshield wipers removed the yellow and brown leaves off her window, as well as the rain, as Bridgette drove back home from the vet. She glanced back at her dog, who lay flat on the backseat with her head on her paws. Rotquel let out a sharp whimper, then a soft bark with bleak eyes.

“I know baby, I'm feeling the same way,” Bridgette said over her shoulder at Rotquel, who snorted and wagged her tail in response.

The autumn had been a wet one. Bridgette couldn't remember the last time she'd seen blue skies. Probably the last day when she woke up in the hospital and Deborah had been sitting there.

Bridgette could barely ignore the burning in her chest. Almost three months later and she couldn't get past her depression and her loss of Deborah, who only called her once to tell her she'd arrived back home safe and was well.

Nevada wasn't her home. Her home was in Woodberry Creek and with Bridgette.

Far too many times she'd wanted to call Deborah back and beg her to return, to make a new home with her where she'd never be mistreated again.

But she gave Deborah the space she needed, to come to terms about herself her and her losses.

Rotquel pressed her nose against the window, barking loudly as she drove into her driveway. A shiver went up Bridgette's spine as she turned off her car.

Deborah was standing on her porch.

“Oh, boy,” Bridgette mumbled and took in a deep breath. Rotquel walked across the seat, wanting to get out.

Bridgette calmly got out of her car and opened the back door for Rotquel. Even before she could put a leash on her, Rotquel shot up the steps to Deborah.

Bridgette slid her hands in the pocket of her hoodie, soaking in Deborah's happy smile as she knelt before Rotquel and hugged her. She wore a long brown trenchcoat and dark blue jeans with black boots. Her hair had grown longer and was lighter, with blond and auburn highlights that brushed over her ears. Bridgette wanted to pull her fingers through the multi-colored strands and hide her face in the crook of Deborah's neck, breathing in her scent, this time not allowing Deborah to walk away from her.

She was becoming drenched from the rain. She locked up her car and climbed her front steps, rain falling down her face and making her normally unruly hair a frizzy mess.

“You look well,” she said as Deborah rose to her full height. Rotquel pranced in circles around her.

Deborah's smile grew. She looked relaxed and happy, as if the constant weight she carried on her shoulders had disappeared.

“I am. You look great also,” she replied.

Bridgette snorted. “I barely had time to brush my hair this morning. I woke up late for Rotquel's vet appointment. Plus the rain always does a number on my hair. Today I'm channeling the seventies with my ’fro.”

Deborah's shoulders jiggled from her silent laughter and Bridgette went still when Deborah tugged on one of her curls. “It makes sense since you love the music from that decade.”

Bridgette stepped around Deborah and unlocked her door. “Why don't you come in? I can put on coffee and give you a slice of the apple pie I baked last night.”

Rotquel rushed in the house and shook her body hard. Water fell to the floor and Bridgette rolled her eyes. When she glanced behind her, Deborah pulled the door shut and looked around the room.

“It just feels great to be back, although the weather was a shock, especially coming from the dry, sunny heat,” Deborah said and took off her coat.

Bridgette held the canister of coffee she grabbed from the freezer as she stared from Deborah's face to her chest that was enclosed in a white polo shirt. She hid her reaction over the way Deborah's nipples poked through the shirt.

“You're staring,” Deborah said softly.

“You need to invest in a new bra,” Bridgette volleyed back pertly and turned to put the coffee on as Deborah laughed behind her.

“I really do need more padded bras to hide my embarrassing condition.” Deborah sighed. “It's so great to see you again, Ridge.”

Bridgette pressed her palms down on the counter. “And whose fault is it that you haven't seen me in months?” She twisted around, facing Deborah who patted Rotquel's head. “Why did you only call me once? Just to say ‘hey, no need to worry about me now because I'm back where I belong’?”

“Bridgette,” Deborah whispered and walked over to her. Even when Deborah took hold of her hands, she didn't acknowledge her. Not until her chin was lifted and Deborah's mouth came down upon hers.

If she thinks she can come along and kiss me and everything will be all right, she has another…oh…more, please.

Bridgette moaned when Deborah's kiss turned more passionate, her lips moving across her own in a deep suction that had Bridgette growing damp. She couldn't deny herself and latched onto Deborah in a tight embrace until she pushed her hands under Deborah's shirt and pulled on the tight nipples she'd once spent hours worshipping.

Deborah broke the kiss and rested her forehead against hers, panting deeply as she continued to caress her breasts.

“I've missed you so much,” Deborah said in a heated plea.

Bridgette licked her lips, lifting up to kiss Deborah again when Deborah rubbed her thumb over her mouth.

“We need to talk first before we love one another.”

Bridgette's hands shook as she moved back and rubbed her hands through her hair. “Love?”

Deborah tilted her head and tugged down her shirt. “Yes-yes. I think so.”

You think so?
Bridgette kept that question to herself and tapped her fingers over her hips. Deborah was right. They needed to talk and lay everything on the table, so to speak.

“Sit down, then. Would you like some pie?” Bridgette asked as she pulled the dish out of the refrigerator.

Deborah sat on a chair and folded her hands on her lap. “That would be great. How about some of your homemade lemonade?”

Bridgette put the pie on the table and went to get plates and forks. “Sorry, no lemonade. I only make it in the summer. But if you don't want coffee, I have iced tea.”

“Iced tea would be great,” Deborah responded.

After Bridgette served Deborah, she didn't eat or drink anything, just watched her eat. The way Deborah's tongue came out and licked away the juice from the crust almost made her excuse herself to go into the bathroom to masturbate. She could barely sit still with Deborah so near. But she held back. She wanted explanations from Deborah, and until she got them, she wouldn't receive any relief, or give any in return.

“You've gained more weight,” Bridgette said and quickly covered her mouth.

Deborah's eyes went wide and she put her fork down on the table.

Oh shit.
“Deb, I didn't mean it the way it sounded. You look great and healthy, glowing, actually—”

“I no longer look like a grasshopper with an alien head?” Deborah asked in a wry voice and drank from her glass.

Bridgette's face grew warm and she chugged down her drink. “I wouldn't say that, but when I first met you…you did look too skinny, at least to me.”

Deborah glanced down at her lap. “Gen once called me an ugly-looking grasshopper during one of our fights. When I first met her I weighed more. She made go on a diet and start exercising. When I lost too much weight, she wasn't happy about that either.”

Bridgette's hands clenched, wishing she could strangle the dead woman, who destroyed Deborah's self-esteem and gave her years of misery that would likely stay with her forever. “Why don't you tell me what you've been up to since you've been gone?” Bridgette changed the subject.

Deborah grimaced. “The aftermath of Gen's death has been exhausting. The reporters were vicious and I had to hire extra security while I stayed at Gen's estate. Her lawyers have been very helpful with her assets and her will. She left everything to me,” she said softly.

“How much are you worth?” Bridgette asked bluntly.

“At least fifty million. Most of it is in stocks and bonds. But the cash I have available is really generous. I ended up getting it all: the properties, the cars, even stock in her company. But the board of directors wants to buy me out. I'm thinking of doing that. Also I'm going to donate the house in Peyote Springs to an organization that helps abused women.”

“That's very generous of you,” Bridgette said, not amazed by Deborah's generosity.

“What I have now is way too much. I want to help others stuck in abusive relationships and feel they can't get free.” Deborah folded her hands across her lap. “The two people who helped me and once worked for Gen are safe in Mexico. I asked them to come back to help me pack up things. Gilberto, the one who put his life on the line to help me escape, may come back. I wanted to give him more money as a thank you, but he refuses to accept anything more.”

“You're incredible, Deb,” Bridgette said and held out her hand across the table, silently urging Deborah to take hers.

“No, I'm not.” Deborah glanced up and shook her head. “I'm donating the house for my own selfish reasons. I can't live there with all the bad memories.”

Bridgette nodded in agreement. “That makes sense.” She flexed her fingers.
Take my hand.
“You're going to live somewhere else?”

“Yes. There's nothing left for me back in Nevada. It was so uncomfortable during Gen's funeral with the stares and the whispering. Then a few days after, the police came to me and said they found the body of a man in the river. He was a private detective known for locating missing people. They think Gen killed him, since he disappeared after he told his business associates he was meeting with her.”

“She was really deranged,” Bridgette said and winced. “I'm sorry for saying that.”

“It's okay,” Deborah said, then did what Bridgette had been waiting for. She linked their fingers together. Bridgette found she could breathe easier.

“Where are you thinking of moving?” she asked, hoping Deborah would say in Woodberry Creek.

“I'd like to move here since I know the area pretty well. The hospital in the next town over is in desperate need of nurses and they have a great staff of therapists who specialize in domestic abuse. I've already set up an appointment with one of the doctors there for next week.”

“That's great!” Bridgette exclaimed. She waited for Deborah to go on, but Deborah remained silent until she stood and put her hands in her pockets.

“Um, right now I'm staying in the motel near the train station. I would stay in my house I've rented here since I have three more months on the lease, but…it doesn't feel right to live there since Gen was killed inside. Would it be okay if I stayed with you until I found a new place to live?”

Bridgette forgot about her hurt and fear at Deborah walking away from her all those months ago. She jumped up and walked around the table. “Yes! You're more than welcome to stay with me,” she said excitedly.

Deborah looked right in her eyes for the first time since she had met her. When she dipped down to kiss her, Bridgette welcomed her by opening her mouth and sighing in relief.

Deborah pulled out the chair and sat back down with Bridgette on her lap. With hungry kisses, they tasted each other in frantic hunger, their hands all over one another until Rotquel nuzzled her way in between them. They broke apart, breathless and panting.

“Rotquel can't seem to get enough of you, either. She adores you like I do,” Bridgette said and laid her head against Deborah's shoulder.

“And I adore you both,” Deborah said softly and tilted her face toward hers. “I know we have so much to talk about and you're probably still upset at me—”

“Shush.” Bridgette placed the pad of her finger over Deborah's mouth. “All is forgotten. You've come back to me and are willing to trust what we have together and move on. That takes great strength.”

Deborah looked like she was going to argue, but only smiled. “Yes, it does.”

Bridgette exhaled softly, so very glad Deborah had begun to heal. She sat up and gave Deborah another needy kiss. When she broke apart, Deborah's eyes were glazed over. “What do you say we go upstairs and take the bath that was interrupted?”

“I'd love to, but first there's something else I've wanted to do with you since I walked through your door.” Deborah cupped the back of Bridgette's head and whispered in her ear.

A big smile spread over Bridgette's face and she moved off of Deborah's lap and pulled her into the living room.

As the rain continued to fall outside, two women, one petite with a head full of red curls, the other tall and slender with short hair, danced to the sounds of disco music. They twirled around the room with their arms around one another, laughing and singing as the dog that claimed them both as her mistresses barked and wagged her tail in delight.

When things became a bit too heated, they undressed one another and fell to the chaise longue to caress and love one another with their hands and mouth. Only then did they climb the stairs to take a bubble bath, where their passions for one another went late into the night.

THE END

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