Danika’s gaze keeps dropping. Because it’s a gorgeous sweater, she tells herself, but it’s not true. She has never wanted to look at the shape of another woman’s breasts before. Just Kim’s.
The ruins of Nepalese food are around them: empty plates and takeaway containers. Danika is relaxed. So far, their conversation has been light. Just two friends catching up. They’ve talked about the girls, about the Melbourne weather and the cold snap they’ve had, even though it’s only the start of April, not even halfway through autumn. Kim told her about Lucinda, who came over from England again, and her decision to demolish the house and sell the land. She mentioned having coffee with her, but it sounded to Danika as if it was someone far from home who knew no one in Melbourne.
What they haven’t talked about is everything they should talk about. Danika has the feeling that Kim, too, is holding back on something. Something that needs airtime.
“Shall we sit more comfortably?” Kim asks.
They take their wine and move to the couch, sitting at opposite ends, socked feet drawn up, leaning back against the arms so they face each other.
Danika watches Kim. She appears relaxed, curled into the couch, sipping her wine. Her thick plait hangs over one shoulder, and Danika’s fingers itch to run along the softness, then flick it back over Kim’s shoulder.
The bottle of wine is almost empty; Danika didn’t bring a second. She hopes Kim has one, as the conversation they should have will definitely need a second bottle.
“I’ve missed this,” Danika says softly. “I’ve missed hanging out with you, by ourselves. We haven’t done it often, but I’m comfortable with you. Which is strange.”
Kim’s lips curve upward. “Me too.” She reaches across the space between them. “I don’t know what we can be, but I hope we will always be friends.” Her eyes grow distant, and she glances up at the ceiling. “Who’d have thought we would get to this.”
Danika hums. “Get to what, exactly?” She empties the last of the wine into their glasses, sets the bottle on the floor.
Kim considers. “If we’re having this conversation, I think we need another bottle.” She rises from the couch and goes into the kitchen. “Is pinot noir okay, or do you want to stick with white?”
“Pinot is good,” Danika says. She waits while Kim returns with a bottle, opens it to breathe, and leaves it on the coffee table.
“I don’t know what we’re getting to,” Kim says. She sits again, closer than before, in the middle of the couch. She rests a hand on Danika’s ankle, and her thumb moves hypnotically in a back-and-forth motion on Danika’s shin.
Danika is trembling inside. The touch doesn’t appear purposeful. It’s as if Kim is absentmindedly petting her while she thinks. Like stroking a puppy. But Kim’s fingers are softening her, making her melt, like butter on a hot pan.
Kim’s touch becomes a slide of her palm. Up from Danika’s ankle, to curve around her calf, to the hem of her loose skirt, which is draped over her knees, then down again. A slow slide. Is it deliberate, Danika wonders, or absent-minded? She doesn’t know and right now she doesn’t care. The touch is like nothing she’s ever experienced. So slow, so smooth, so subtle.
So arousing.
As if there’s no agenda, no hurry. It’s not like a rush to the finish line, which has been her experience with some of the men she’s dated. Where the finish line was male orgasm, and if she happened to reach her own peak along the way, well, wasn’t she lucky? Here, Kim is touching her for the sake of it.
Is this how it is between women?
Danika exhales. She’s sure that’s a generalisation, just as her observation about intimacy with men is. She can only go on the right now, right here, and what Kim’s meandering touch is doing to her.
She should raise the spectre of money. Even if she has no answers, she should share what she’s thinking, feeling, about this. But to do so now, when she’s melting, when her body is warming, when her mind is slipping into a haze of arousal… She can’t.
She railroads her thoughts away from Kim’s touch and forces herself to think about money. About telling Kim what she intends to do. But the dollar signs and words she must say slip from her head as Kim’s fingers inch up her thigh.
She’s told Kim there’s something she’s working through, and Kim trusts her. Is that the permission she needs to continue this sensual exploration now? No, not really, but Danika clings to it because right here, right now, there’s only one thought in her mind: she wants to experience Kim’s kisses again.
“I don’t know what we are either,” Danika says. “But I know I’d like to kiss you again. May I?”
Kim’s hesitation is unexpected. Danika had expected her to smile, to move closer on the couch, to lean in and press her lips to Danika’s. Instead, the small smile slips off her face, and her tongue touches her lower lip. She glances away, up at the ceiling.
When she looks back though, the smile is back. “I’d like that. Very much.” Danika wants to ask her why the hesitation,but she doesn’t want them to fall out of the moment again. Instead, she goes on instinct. She leans in, presses her mouth to Kim’s and waits. One heartbeat, two, three, four. She’s about to pull away, thinking Kim doesn’t, after all, want this now, when Kim responds. Her hands push into Danika’s hair, feathering it through her fingers. She moves closer, turns into Danika. Their knees touch, then Kim is sliding one of her knees between Danika’s, nudging her legs apart so that they fit together. Fit closer.
Kim’s lips part, her tongue slides out, traces Danika’s mouth with the tip.
Fire. Danika is suddenly all heat and flame, instantly liquid, flowing around and over her internal doubts. Yes, this is not a rational choice, and they should talk instead of kiss. But they don’t have to talknow.
Now is for getting to know each other in a new and different way. Now is for the spiral of arousal, the haze of lust, the sweet, sharp stab of desire.
And she’s not alone in this. Because Kim is kissing her, and what started out as sweet and soft is fast becoming urgent and demanding.
Kim’s hands leave Danika’s hair and glides down on either side of her neck. Her thumbs meet for a second in the hollow of her throat, but immediately slide away, out to Danika’s shoulders, then back.
