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Vi wanted to look at her forever, to remember that perfection, the vision of what it meant to bring Chiara pleasure. It was magnificent. It felt like happiness.
* * *
The morning rayspeeked through the hastily drawn blinds, and Vi’s eyes blinked several times before reason caught up with her. She was enveloped in willowy arms, held tight, and her temple was being kissed.
Chiara.
Last night came back to her in full technicolor. Scratch that. In hi-res.
Vi making Chiara come, and right away, before she could recover, taking that still trembling flesh in her mouth again and making Chiara scream.Vi, Vi, Vi…
The sweetest sound. The most erotic sound. As enticing as being fully dressed still, while Chiara had lain before her naked and beautiful.
All these memories Vi would relive forever. Like how she’d simply sat and watched that body rise and fall for a moment, and beat and live in front of her, splayed out in all its glory, strong and vulnerable, and so beautiful Vi had to take a deep breath to quiet her racing heart. It beat a staccato against her ribs, spurned by all the tenderness, all the love that filled her in this moment.
Everything had been so amplified it hurt, so Vi had closed her eyes and climbed that exhausted, sated body, kissing every inch of skin she could reach, while Chiara sighed and breathed and moaned, and then as she finally arrived at her destination and kissed that mouth parched from all the exertion of two climaxes, Chiara leaned to bring their lips together only to roll Vi, surprising her, making her laugh. Making her gasp when a gentle hand lowered her zipper and delved in, whispering, “what do you need, tell me? I’ll give you anything, anything at all.”
Pleasure pierced her, no warning, no regrets. Those skillful fingers had claimed her. Undone her. Once, twice, another thrust and a slow circle of the thumb and Vi, who’d already been on the very edge solely from watching Chiara, had come herself and it had been glorious.
Vi lifted her head and Chiara’s wide-awake eyes met hers with so much tenderness, Vi felt tears sting, powerless to contain them. Chiara said nothing, just reached out and kissed them away and tucked Vi’s head where it seemed to belong, because it fit like a puzzle piece on Chiara’s shoulder. Vi breathed in her scent, mouthing at her neck and murmuring useless, disjointed words of happiness.
Yet Chiara seemed to understand, because she murmured them back, how wonderful it was, how amazing they were, how happy she was, and Vi’s poor heart grew more and more, uncontainable, uncontrollable. She hugged Chiara tighter, snuggling in, right before a phone buzzed from the kitchen.
“Nope. Not getting up. Not answering. Not breaking this spell.” Vi shook her head, and Chiara, perhaps tickled by the motion of Vi’s hair, laughed. Openly, happily. And Vi raised her face again to just look. To take this moment in.
“You don’t have to worry, darling. It’s probably Aoife. I left rather in an understandable hurry last night, and both she and Renate were embroiled with the police, who’d been called because of all the ruckus. They were torn between the cops and trying to help and figure out what I should do. So Aoife is probably checking on me.”
Vi scrunched her nose, not ready for the world to intrude on them. She knew it was out there, full of consequences and responsibilities, but she wanted to put it off, only for a bit, to savor this moment that was theirs alone.
Still, her stomach growled, and Chiara’s answered with exactly the same hungry intonation. They looked at each other for a second before dissolving into laughter, and Vi jumped off the bed, taking the covers with her and wrapping them around her body. Chiara stretched fully nude on the bed, and Vi stared, mind blanking, mouth agape.
“God…”
“Well, technically goddess… And you are so cute, it’s absolutely fantastic. Completely and totally adorable. A total breast girl.”
Vi snickered before stalking to the kitchen counter where Chiara’s purse lay. She brought it back to the bed and handed it to its owner, who was now reclining, arms behind her head, unabashed in her nudity, a firm smirk on her lips, observing Vi’s total uselessness to the world.
Vi cleared her throat, feeling the blush creep up her neck, and gestured vaguely in Chiara’s direction.
“I don’t know why you find it in any way surprising. Yours are spectacular.”
Chiara laughed, making those spectacular breasts bounce, and Vi thought she might pass out, because suddenly, there was absolutely no oxygen in the entire room.
“Oh, darling, you are smitten, since my size As have nothing on the glory of Sophia Loren and Monica Bellucci. And thank you for this.” She dug around for the phone right when it started to buzz again.
“You Italians are so obsessed with your icons.”
“They are icons for a reason. And yes, it’s Aoife. I’m sorry, darling, I’ll take it to tell her I’m fine.”
“You are very fine indeed, despite some weird beauty standard you seem focused on. You’re perfect.” Vi smiled and tugged the sheet around herself tighter as it started to unfold.
“Oh, if this is how you’re going to talk, I might not answer Sully. I want to hear more about this perfection that I supposedly am.” Chiara smiled as the phone went off yet again, and Vi leaned in and planted a firm kiss on her smiling lips.
“Nothing ‘supposed’ about your perfection. You simply are. Now talk to Aoife and I will make us breakfast.”
Vi walked away and closed the flimsy sliding doors to the alcove to give Chiara some privacy. She rummaged around the fridge, finding enough ingredients for French toast. On a whim, she threw on some clothes and, listening to Chiara’s still talking in the bedroom, ran out to the corner shop where her pal Thierry sold flowers.
After one look at the long-stemmed, pristine white roses, Vi dropped the equivalent of a quarter of her salary on a whole bouquet and almost skipped back to her building.
