“I just feel…” Gemma began and then halted, her eyes locked on something in the distance, and Rory chose not to interrupt her train of thought.
“It’s almost like…” Gemma stopped herself again and huffed in annoyance.
“You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that.” Gemma fixed her with a glare. “And I thought I was completely over you and my attraction to you and then you turn up looking like this,” Gemma waved a hand across Rory’s torso, “and obviously the families would like nothing better than for us to leap into marriage and start making babies, and the grandmothers are pushy and… fuck I’ve had too much wine!”
Gemma slouched against the back of the bench, her entire posture one of defeat and exhaustion.
Rory was stunned. She’d only ever heard Gemma swear once before, and that was the night they had been together. Rory had fixed her lips around a very willing and responsivenipple and buried her fingers into Gemma when the other woman had gripped hold of Rory’s shoulder, thrust her head back in ecstasy and screamed every swear word she knew into the room they had found. Hearing the words dropping from Gemma’s mouth now not only was a contrast to the refined elegance of their surroundings but put Rory’s brain back to that wonderful night and dreadful morning when everything had changed for them.
“Does it help that I’m pretty attracted to you too?” Rory gulped down a nervous swallow as she spoke. Her earlier swaggering bravado, which was mostly an act, was slipping away at the realisation that not only was Gemma still bloody gorgeous, but that a repeat of their night together may well be on the cards.
“You are?”
“Of course I am, you look amazing.” Rory reached a hand out and took hold of Gemma’s fingers. “And it doesn’t help that my wretched brain remembers every moment of our night together and has been playing it on repeat for me ever since you arrived.”
Rory searched for Gemma’s eyes with her own and when they locked, the fire that flashed between them was undeniable.
Just as Rory was about to speak again, the bell rang round the gardens to warn that the next act was about to start. Both women jumped up from the bench, having been schooled by their respective grandmothers throughout the years to be on time, especially at the theatre. Rory smoothed her suit back into place and offered a hand to Gemma. This time, instead of hooking her hand through her arm as she had done before, she intertwined their fingers and gave Gemma’s hand a gentle squeeze. She didn’t know where this night was heading. She wasn’t ready for another relationshipand she absolutely didn’t want another drunken tryst with Gemma – that would surely ruin their friendship forever – but the pull of this woman was like nothing she had felt for any other woman in her life and she needed her right now like she needed air to breathe.
They joined the crowds of people gently making their way back into the opera house. This was something she enjoyed about being here, nothing was rushed or frenetic. It was easy and relaxed and a complete contrast to her busy life in London, which was full of meetings and talking and rushing around the city. She felt Gemma stumble slightly on the uneven ground and pulled her close. Reluctantly, she released Gemma’s hand and linked her arm with hers as it was much easier for walking. She desperately wanted to wrap an arm around Gemma’s waist not only to keep her safe and support her but also to show to the wandering eyes that kept giving Gemma the once over that this was her woman. But Gemma wasn’t. Rory had blown that chance when she left her sleeping all those years ago.
5
GEMMA
Gemma tried desperately to watch the action unfolding on the stage. She had seen theMarriage of Figaroa few times and knew the story, which was a massive help to her now as she could think of nothing else but Rory’s confession in the garden. She had no idea that Rory would still be attracted to her after all these years. If Gemma was honest with herself – and in the darkness of the opera house with every other eye trained on the stage and the performers she had to be honest with herself – she knew she was still wildly attracted to Rory. Rory in any form: tomboy at school, feminine in her pictures with her fiancée, and now the ‘hinting at androgyny but still very female’ woman who made Gemma’s blood sing. Rory was her kryptonite and, like Superman, she was powerless against her charms.
She let her mind wander and thought about the possibilities for them. Yes, they could fall into bed together and have another fantastic evening. Gemma could remember enough of their lovemaking to know that Rory was the bestlover she had ever had and that if they were to give in to their attraction, that it would be the best sex she’d had in a long time. Her body was almost craving it now, as if a switch had been flicked in her brain and she wouldn’t be satisfied until she had Rory naked in her arms. But that came with complications. If they were to have another night together, then it would have to be secret from the families. One whiff of a relationship between them and the grandmothers and her parents would be insufferable.
That led Gemma’s thoughts to a relationship with Rory. Could they date and be a couple? They lived in the same city, which was a bonus, but could they make it work? Rory was just out of a long-term relationship and was possibly not looking for anything more. Was Gemma destined to be Rory’s rebound fuck every time a woman broke her heart or was being difficult? Gemma was also painfully aware that she was completely incapable of being with a woman and making a relationship last longer than a few weeks, and she knew she would want more than that with Rory.
These thoughts ran around Gemma’s head as she tried to refocus her attention on the opera. It was one of her favourites, with a bit of comedy, a bit of romance, and a philandering husband getting his comeuppance. The opera had moved to a funny piece now, and she relaxed into her chair and laughed at the action on the stage but was immediately drawn back to the person sitting to her left. The grandmothers and mothers had settled in the front row of the box, and the fathers were sitting in the back row with her and Rory. Rory had snagged the seat next to the wall, and Gemma had slipped next to her, drawn by some intangible magnetic force. Gemma’s father was next to Gemma, and Peter had taken the last seat. Gemma watched with agentle smile on her face as her father’s head bobbed up and down as he slept. Obviously, the combination of the wine at dinner and the warm evening was taking its toll on him. Rory’s dad was doing better and occasionally popped his head up to watch what was going on before snoozing again.
Gemma watched her father for a bit and felt a wave of affection wash over her. She wished she could live closer to her parents, but their constant interference and prying into her life was exhausting. Quick trips like this were all that she could handle. Throughout her life, they had tried to push her into what they wanted for her, and she had rebelled at every turn. They wanted her to be a lawyer like her father, instead she chose arty subjects at school. They wanted her to go to a traditional or “red brick” university, so she chose a new, vibrant university in a cosmopolitan city and found parties, fun, and women. They then wanted her to settle down in their hometown with a nice boy and have children, so Gemma flaunted her lesbianism at them and set off for London with a succession of short flings and no stable girlfriend to speak of.
Rory shifted in her seat, and Gemma dragged her thoughts back to the opera. How was it that she could be in such a crowded space and yet feel like she and Rory were the only people in the world? The singers on stage were singing her favourite piece from the opera, the Sull’aria duet, and she willed her body to relax. When she had been struggling to concentrate on her university finals, her grandmother had sent her a CD of opera arias to work to, and this was the song that had stood out for her. It was one of the few classical songs that she could listen to over and over. She let the music wash over her as the voices combined and caressed her ears.
Glancing around, she saw that every eye in the opera house was trained on the stage and the action unfolding as the countess and her maid plotted to thwart their respective husbands in their schemes. She felt an overwhelming desire to hold Rory’s hand and share this moment with her. She glanced at her friend’s profile in the dark and was amused to find at least one pair of eyes that weren’t fixed on the stage. The heat in Rory’s brown eyes was unmistakable, and Gemma felt more confident in sliding her hand into Rory’s.
Just at that moment, the singers on the stage combined their voices into one glorious sound, the soprano voices mimicking Gemma’s and Rory’s hands as the sounds swirled and soared throughout the theatre. Gemma felt Rory’s thumb gently rub over her knuckles before settling. They sat for the rest of the act clasping each other’s hands. Gemma had thought that it might be even more distracting than having Rory just sat next to her, but to the contrary, the feeling of Rory holding her hand centred and grounded her. She realised then that she would do anything to keep her friend in her life and that she couldn’t let Rory disappear again. With a sinking heart, she realised that would probably mean that they would have to fight their baser feelings and the machinations of their families. Having Rory as a friend again was something she needed with every fibre of her being, and she had no intention of throwing away her best friend again for another short-lived romance or drunken night together.
The lights brightened in the auditorium to indicate a brief interval before the last act of the opera. Backstage, the scenery and costumes were being changed but, as it was only a relatively quick change, the audience stayed in theirseats. Rory gently removed her hand from Gemma’s, and Gemma felt its loss almost immediately. She buried her disappointment at the loss of its warmth behind the relief that none of the family had seen them holding hands. She didn’t know what it meant for Rory, but it was easily the most intimate and lovely thing that had happened to her in months, if not years.
The families chatted good-naturedly among themselves in that low, respectful manner that people did in a theatre. Most of them took the opportunity to stand and stretch gently after an hour or so sat, whilst the fathers were trying very hard not to look like they had been asleep. Before long, the lights dimmed, indicating that the final act was about to begin. Gemma and Rory were the last to settle and, as they did, Gemma noticed Rory had lazily slung her right arm across the back of Gemma’s chair.
“Do you mind?” Rory whispered into Gemma’s ear. “I find it more comfortable to sit like this.”
Gemma nodded mutely, partially scared of being told off by her grandmother for talking and also partially because her body was thrumming at the thought of Rory wrapping her arm around her. As they settled, Gemma thought back to their holidays as teenagers and how Rory would always recline on a sofa with her arms thrown across the back. She thought back to how many times she had crawled into those arms and curled up with her friend on a sofa or sun lounger at the end of a long day by the swimming pool. Back then, their touches and cuddles had been innocent and platonic, but now her thoughts were anything but innocent. She watched the performers on the stage set up the action for the final reveal, where the wives would finally teach their husbands a lesson. She knew what was going to happen, so she let her mind wander again to Rory sitting next to her. Even though they had consumed a large quantity of wine,and she knew she was a bit fuzzy round the edges, she could feel her desires growing and her resolve to just be friends with Rory slipping away like sand trickling through her fingers.
Rory sat for most of the act relaxed but upright in her seat next to Gemma. Occasionally Gemma would glance across at her gorgeous profile and found Rory seemingly entranced by the action on the stage. Her lips quirking into a smile here and there when something fun happened. Gemma knew the piece they were getting to and shifted slightly in her seat. As soon as Rory had put her arm around her, the last act of the opera flowed back into her brain. The countess and her maid were going to trap their husbands and teach them a lesson, and the countess, now dressed as her maid, was about to sing the most gorgeous aria to entice her lover. Gemma tensed slightly as the words flashed up on the supertitles. Because the opera was in Italian, they showed the English translation of the words above the stage. Now they told of a woman in love with her husband and calling him to love her.
The music started, and as the countess sang about her love for her husband , Gemma felt the longing of the countess wash over her. This music had never affected her like this before, but now it was igniting a longing deep in her soul, a longing only Rory could satisfy. She tried to concentrate on the lyrics, but almost as soon as the countess started singing, she felt Rory’s fingers delicately caress her bare shoulder. Gemma felt a wave of affection and desire shiver across her body. She pushed back slightly against Rory’s fingers and felt the caress strengthen as she hoped it would. The butterflies that had been fluttering in her stomach on and off all evening were back, and she bit her lip to stop a moan escaping. She turned her head to the side to see Rory’s impassive profile. If she didn’tknow better, she would have said that Rory was completely entranced by the action on the stage, but Gemma knew better, and the sensations coursing through her body were testament to that fact.
Rory’s head turned slightly towards her, and Gemma saw a smirk tickle at the corner of her mouth. Simultaneously, Rory’s strong, slim fingers strengthened the caress on her shoulder before drifting across her over sensitive skin to the nape of her neck where they toyed with a few strands of hair before painting invisible patterns and swirls on Gemma’s neck before returning to her shoulder again. A shiver of pleasure ran through Gemma and ignited every cell in her body. Rory had never touched her like this before. As friends, they had been tactile, but always friendly. Their night together had been frenzied and passionate. This gentle seduction and caress was new, and she loved it.
Two could play at this game, Gemma thought and gently laid a hand on Rory’s thigh. She felt the muscle tense beneath her fingers, and she allowed her hand to caress the smooth fabric as well as the hard muscle beneath her fingers. At first, she was content to match Rory’s gentle caress of her shoulder, but as Rory’s fingers kept drifting over her neck, Gemma allowed her fingers to wander higher on Rory’s thigh. She swallowed nervously as Rory’s fingers caressed her neck, causing another bolt of desire to settle on her clit. She hadn’t been this turned on in ages, and it was an injustice that she was trapped in a box at the opera rather than laid out on Rory’s bed.
A flashback of what had happened the last time they were together poured into her head. Despite suspecting she was gay from the age of fifteen, Gemma had slept with a couple of boys from the rugby team just to be sure, and it wasn’t until that fateful night with Rory that she fully embraced her lesbianism. Rory had shown her what awonderful experience it was having sex with a woman, and Gemma had felt things then that she’d never felt before or since.
