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She smiles to herself as she settles down beside me and I watch her. She picks up the food and crunches down on it but I don’t think she really tastes it. Her mind seems way off, distracted, thoughts lost somewhere else.”
“Penny for them,” I say lightly as I take her hand in mine, giving her contact.
She takes a deep breath. “I am just thinking about how happy I am.” She replies and then a big fat tear leaks from the corner of her lovely blue eye and rolls down her cheek.
“Oh, Arya!” I gasp, knocking over the carrots as I pull her to me wrapping her uptight. “People who are happy don’t cry. What is wrong? Talk to me?”
She gives herself a little shake, then a laugh and a sniffle before shaking me off. “No really, Juliet, I am happy. So, so happy with you. I just. I just know I am going to fuck it up. This is why I don’t do commitment. I should have known from the start really that I liked you far too much for this to just be a casual thing but I couldn’t stop myself and well … here we are and it is amazing. Great. Mind blowing in fact but I just need you to know that I can’t give you more than this. Even if I want you to … I just can’t.”
I lean back against the chair, reading her body language which is telling me she needs me to give her some space. My mind tries to catch up with the turn in the conversation. My body, still tingling, is slow on the uptake but my thoughts take hold.
“Arya … Sweetheart. I am not asking for any more than what you are giving me. I am so happy right now taking this journey with you, but why do you think you are going to ruin it? If I am happy and you are happy. What is the problem?” I ask with genuine concern, trying to understand the turbulent thoughts that are passing through her mind and flickering one by one across her face.
“Oh, Juliet.” She says with a heavy sigh. “There is just so much you don’t know about me. About my life. My childhood. When I went to live with my grandparents, it wasn’t because I wanted to leave the city or they wanted to raise their granddaughter alone. It was because my mother couldn’t look after me.” She spoke the couldn’t with such bitterness it surprised me. “She couldn’t look after me because she was too focused on scoring her next high. Or selling herself for more drugs. Or having disgusting perverts in the mold-ridden shack of a home. We had nothing. Days without food. Without clean water. Then she’d get her check which was supposed to be for her to look after me and instead come home with candy, moms’ special candy, and liquor.”
I felt her entire body tensing. Reliving memories is the quick flash that she would much rather forget.
“My grandparents didn’t even know about me. She left them when she was 16 and never looked back. It was social services that stepped in. And I was lucky you know. They were so happy to have me. They loved me so much. Other kids, they don’t get that. They get put through a system. They don’t get to study; they don’t get scholarships. They don’t become Doctors. And I know how lucky I am Juliet, really I do but I was fucked up. The things I saw. The way it was. I am fucked up. I don’t know how to form romantic attachments. I don’t know how to let someone in full, how to trust and the moment I do… I just run away because I can’t deal with it. I can’t accept love.”
“Oh, Arya. Please.” I murmur softly, beckoning her to me, not wanting to push for the contact but needing to show her that I am here and that she doesn’t need to worry. It is going to be okay.
“Arya, you don’t need to worry about any of those things, okay? You are my friend. We are friends first and foremost. That will always be the most important thing. This, us, the rest of it is just a bonus for however long it lasts, okay? No pressure. No commitment. Just two friends enjoying each other.”
She pauses and then slowly nods, allowing herself into my arms. “What did I do to get so lucky as to find you?” She asks lightly and I squeeze her a little tighter, peppering her soft blonde hair with kisses.
I want to hold her and protect her forever.
I don’t answer her, I don’t trust myself to because I am not lying, we are best friends. I would do anything to make her feel safe, protected, cared for but my feelings run deeper than that. I know it, I can feel them. If she had asked me right now to be with her forever, there would be no doubt. Maybe she can feel that. Maybe that is why she was panicking, but for her, for us to continue I will hide those feelings until she feels the same … or she wants to let go.
11
I have never been one for keeping secrets. In fact, I am usually a very open and transparent person sometimes with a perceived coldness. I suppose I just live in a world where information is shared quickly and efficiently and there is no space for opinion, only room for the facts.
I didn’t feel like I was hiding my true feelings from Arya exactly, because the foundation was the truth. However, the rest of it I hid, and even though my feelings for her grew, like a sunflower in a dark room, I kept my petals out of the sun and only let them blossom in the silence of a secret.
And my feelings for her were not the only secret I was keeping these days. Our entire sexual relationship was taking place hidden from the ever-watchful eyes of hospital faculty. The benefit of us both being women and perceived as straight, meant we could pass under the radar without raising much suspicion.
Women spending a lot of time together was easily passed under the guise of friendship which meant that Arya and I could go through our days at work spending time together in an almost completely platonic fashion. Then we could meet outside of work, in public, in a much less platonic fashion, and still have no issues. We once saw a colleague in the mall, Rodger, and he stood chatting with us for twenty minutes. There was not a hint of suspicion or raised eyebrows. Just two female colleagues shopping together at the weekend … totally normal. Except an hour or so earlier Arya made me climax so hard in the shower my legs were still shaking.
Professionally it made no difference. The moment we both entered the theatre together there was no Arya and Juliet. In fact, there was no Juliet even without Arya in the room. When I am in surgery, I am Dr. Sansus. No exception. My personal life, thoughts feelings, and opinions are of no relevance, only the job at hand. The only thing our closeness did in theatre was to allow us to work together smoother and more efficiently than I ever have with another surgeon in my entire career.
There was a soft knock on my office door, and I knew just by the pattern that it was Arya.
“Come in,” I call and she slips in quietly pulling the door closed behind her. She dances towards me, lightly on her feet with a box in her hand looking very sheepish. “Everything okay?” I ask.
“Mhmm.” She purrs as she lowers into the seat opposite me. She keeps her knees a few inches apart and my gaze drifts to the hem of her A-line skirt which rides up her thighs just an inch or so … still modest but so incredibly sexy. “I bought you something. Well, me. Us. A joint gift if you like.” And she hands over the none descript cardboard box, which is still sealed with the delivery label intact.
I reach for my pen and run the nib through the cellophane sealed edge, tracing the line until it snaps and I can pull it open. Inside is another box that boasts luxurious intimacy and intense filled pleasure. I look up at her but she doesn’t reach my gaze, just nods at the box encouraging me to continue. I slip the lid from the top and I gasp.
My fingers reach without a pause, my tips glide over the perfectly polished smooth glass, tracing the curves … one … two … three.
“It’s glass … is it safe?” I ask her.
“Perfectly. They are toughened. It won't shatter or break. And the good thing about glass is … here let me show you.” She leans over, her hands brushing mine as she takes the dildo from me. I watch mesmerized as she brings it to her lips and sucks the smooth, curved bulbous tip. Her lips pucker and close tightly and in the prism of the glass I can see the refraction of her tongue as it swirls … and then she pulls it free with a light pop. Reaching forwards, she takes my hand and turns it in her palm. Then she slowly glides the tip along my inner wrist.
“Can you feel the warmth?” She asks softly, and I nod barely able to speak. I can feel the trace of her saliva on soft sensitive skin and the heat tingles against my pulse as it quickens. “I know you haven’t before … and I thought maybe you might like to try … if you don’t like it, we could stop …”
Each word she whispers is glazed with husk. I can feel the sex in her tone and her body responding accordingly. I want her.
