Devoutly to Be Wished

"It's God Himself, I think. That's the true lost lover. At least, I think that's the place where Will gets sad."

Bijou curled her legs under her and leaned forward to refill Sara's wineglass before she continued.

"I don't know, it's merely a theory. But I think he's smart enough to be aware that faith is beautiful and necessary, that magic and the angelic do exist, but too smart and too left-brained to let go and just dive in and believe things that aren't rational."

Sara nodded. "I've often wondered about it. He's so bloody normal but then sometimes he's so terribly sad, so obviously isolated. It feels like if I get too close he pulls back so I leave him alone. I understand not wanting to let just anyone in. I respect that."

She ran her hand up the back of her neck and through her hair. "He is delicious though. He's one of those people... I mean, he could be a head in a jar and I would still fuck him as long as his mind was there." She grinned and blushed. "God, that's bad. Must be the wine. Although it's easier to say what I'm thinking with people who actually understand."

Bijou chuckled. "The Alien Grrrl's Club. Meetings weekly at midnight."

Sara laughed. "I remember when I read the one story where you sit there thinking that soon he's going to figure out you're not as smart as he thinks you are. I laughed out loud. That's me every single time I talk to him --about anything." She looked ruminative. "But it makes sense, that the lack of tangible evidence in a greater spirit would bother Will. With faith, I'm in transition myself, from the faith I grew up with to the faith I have now."

"I don't know that I've ever had that sort of faith crisis. The one where everything I know is wrong, yeah. Regularly. But I've never lost my religion, not like that. I can't imagine," said Bijou, looking distant.

"It was fairly devastating, to lose the security of a belief system I had known for so long," murmured Sara, almost to herself. "It's especially devastating when you're dealing with death and not being sure of what you believe. New faith is only just being born inside me now but I can feel it. I don't think I could have lived my life with that hole in me forever." She finished her wine and Bijou poured another glass before she could argue.

"A hole where faith should be," said Bijou. "But faith is a word I have trouble with anyway. I don't think I have any, if it's defined as the evidence of things unseen. I've seen everything I truly have faith in -- love, people, compassion, miracles, beauty, ecstasy. My gods are just... I don't know. The embodiments of those things. The ideas. But it's all right here." She sighed. "Maybe I just don't understand the struggle people go through. How can you not see God? He's a tomato. He's a stone."

"Ah, but we're talking about Will, not you or me. God is a Mind," said Sara, grinning again. "A great big sexy amazingly smart mind like his. The imaginary universal intelligence, the Super-brain he could actually trust."

"True. We make God in our own image," Bijou said, suddenly very distracted by Sara's cleavage. It was, admittedly, rather spectacular, and Sara had worn a low-cut top that Bijou would assume she'd save for a far hotter date than this one was supposed to be. She tried to focus. "But really, there are so many things that already affect him, or seem to, spiritually. Where does Will find his divine? Where does he see God already, whether or not he's willing to admit that that's what draws him and affects him? Music. Art. Poetry."

"Sex," smiled Sara, shifting around in her seat, casually tugging the neck of her shirt up, only to have it slide right back down. "At least, I'd be willing to bet he looks for it there pretty often." She looked at Bijou's legs, now stretched out along the couch toward her. Very long legs. She couldn't help but imagine them around Will, since she knew perfectly well they'd been there. More than once. The idea alone made her blush again. She turned so Bijou wouldn't notice, but Bijou noticed.

"You realize this is all theoretical anyway," Bijou settled back, tracing the edge of her wineglass with a fingertip. Round and round. Sara's eyes moved from the circling fingertip to Bijou's lips, wet from the wine. "I mean, I know him, but hardly well enough to diagnose and treat, or even assume the existence of, some deep existential crisis in his darkest soul. For all I know, what I read as the Lost Alchemical Marriage might just be mild indigestion. Not a hunger for God so much as a simple need for Pepto Bismol." Sara spluttered, swallowed her mouthful of wine and giggled.

When she'd caught her breath, she nodded. "There's something about him, or at least what I see in him so far, that makes me want to make him happy. I want him to see the good out there. We've talked so much, without ever really meeting. And he feels very far away, even in person, for whatever reason. He's a tough one. Smart enough to be very self-contained." Suddenly she wanted very much to kiss Bijou. Just to see how it felt, she told herself. But she wasn't at all sure how to go about it. It was getting difficult to listen to both Bijou's voice and her own internal voices, all of them drawing her closer even though she was afraid to move.

"Well, I don't believe one can actually make anybody else happy," responded Bijou, "not as such. But perhaps we do put the occasional light on someone else's path, so they find their own way more easily. Still, what are we really doing, after all? All we're really considering, at the bottom line, is seducing him properly. If he manages to see God in the process, well, that's just frosting."

There. She'd said it. Sara would either run screaming into the night right now, or she'd stay. And if she stayed... Bijou snapped that train of thought off instantly. Stop that. Too much to hope for.

"It's more than that with you -- you see yourself as, what, clergy in this realm, right? A priestess?" Sara hesitated over the word. It sounded cool. A bit intimidating. Was she considering kissing an actual sex priestess? Was that what you called it, even? There were always questions with Bijou but never a fear of the answers.

Bijou chuckled. "Priestess. Well, maybe. A temple whore, at the very least. A 4000-year-old sacred slut. But see, I don't force my various religions on people, not even the spirituality of sex. Trying to get him to see God would be too much like proselytizing for my taste."

Bet he would, though, thought Sara. Bet he'd see at least some kind of god. She allowed her mind to imagine the three of them together, just for a moment. That would, she realized, include, um, interacting with Bijou. Her eyes closed and she could see hands all over her own body. His hands and hers. She blushed again, furiously. Damn this tattletale skin. Surely Bijou could tell everything she was thinking. She chewed on her lips and focused on her wine glass trying to think about the weather, find some control in distraction, or at least get control of her distraction.

"I can't help but admit to at least that much of an agenda -- and you're crazy too so you'll understand this. I want to think that between the two of us we could show him the face of some divine, if not The divine. I guess that's why I keep trying to seduce him, not the body but that amazing mind. I feel like there has to be some tangible angelic core, something ecstatic and real, in me, in you, in him, that he could truly feel and believe in, if only I could get him in contact with it. I guess I just want to believe that."

"Maybe it's just greed," sighed Sara. "Maybe we're just so fascinated with this particular clock that we're dying to take it apart to see what makes it tick." She took a breath. "There's that other question too, of course. That practical one: Is he interested in me at all?"

Bijou laughed, loudly. "Are you serious?"

Sara's face went quiet and she looked out the window. "Oh, half the time if he and I are flirting I think he's just playing. Being nice to me." Sara leaned forward. Bijou took the wineglass, from her hand this time, and their fingers brushed, quite deliberately. This is the way women seduce each other, thought Bijou. With words, delicately, with the lightest of touches. She shut the thought down again, firmly. I will not take advantage of this amazing chick, no matter how much...

Bijou took a deep breath. She spoke slowly, deliberately. "Let me figure out how to tell you this so you actually believe me. I am pretty damn sure that however hot he is for me, or anyone else, this is the true truth: you are, and have always been, the first and fiercest love he's ever had, in that particular online world anyway. I just happen to think I know that. Psychic, an' all. And judging by his response to you at the coffee shop the other day, that carries over quite completely into the real world as well." Bijou leaned forward, both for emphasis and to hand Sara's wineglass to her, refilled. When Sara's hand took it, Bijou kept hold of it for a moment. Sara started, and looked up. Their eyes met.

"You do believe me, don't you?" said Bijou, locking the gaze firmly.

Sara paused, looked straight back at her. Then grinned, widely, but didn't take her eyes away. "I'm sorry," she said. "I've forgotten the question already."

Something in the moment snapped and relaxed. It was good. They both knew now where this was heading, and it was okay. Each of them took a moment to process, and finally Bijou released the glass.

"Long as that's understood," she said. "And I say that with something far different from jealousy, believe me. I admire his taste. I agree with him completely."

Bijou was distractedly remembering the way Sara had talked about force. She liked being held down, got off on being topped a little. But gods, that would be ballsy, to just go there. Bijou found herself at her perpetual loss. Men were understandable. Women, not so much. How much could she get away with? How dare she even start thinking like that?

Sara saved her by changing the subject. Or maybe not changing it. "I was re-reading the stories you two wrote together. I barely blinked when I first read them, just devoured them all one by one. Maybe it's cause I know you both, but well, they just seem good and true and hot. They're the best mind-fuck stories I have ever read. They're smutty porn for smart people."

Bijou laughed. "Alliteration, even. We're putting you on the book jacket, for sure." She paused. "Maybe you should join in the writing. We could co-write something, and as an added incentive, I suspect strongly that the idea of you and I writing a story together about him would drive Will out of his motherfuckin' mind. And that can't be bad."

"Neither one of us knows him, really," said Sara. "Not enough to give him religion. But maybe between the two of us, combined..."

"Are we still talking about writing?" asked Bijou, knowing the answer.

"Sure," smiled Sara, now very relaxed, despite the deepest blush yet this evening. "Sure, that too." Sara normally guarded her sensual self from people, not because she was afraid of them but more because she was afraid of herself. With Bijou there was a peace and acceptance that meant there was no question of yes for Sara. It was only a question of when.

"We'll need to..." Bijou looked away, feigning innocence and failing terribly. Her look was pure mischief. "...do some research. Outline this a bit."

Sara said nothing, but set her glass down deliberately on the table. Then she sat back, just as deliberately, and looked intently at the objects on the table, trying to focus her mind. Coin. Candle. What is about to happen? Pen. Plate. Wine glass. Bottle. Bottle. What should I do? Wine glass. Book. Grapes.

Bijou leaned forward and very carefully rearranged a lock of Sara's hair, so that it laid curled against her neck. Then she drew her hand back, and grinned.

"C'mere," she said.

It felt like Bijou's hands reached inside Sara, pulled a string of breaths from her and wrapped them around her body. It was heady, this strange feeling of weight and weightlessness.

Sara's voice was a little deeper and her mind had focused down completely on Bijou's lips. "So, we're going to uhm...explore." Swallow. She was just talking to herself now, "Each other. Okay. Yes. Please." The last was just a whisper. Bijou had shifted forward on the couch. They were dangerously close.

Bijou reached out and slid a casual hand up Sara's back, under her hair, pulling forward. Sara stopped, momentarily snapping out of the trance. "Is Will coming over tonight? I mean, does he know I'm here, with you. Is it okay?" She was well aware she was stammering, but she couldn't seem to stop herself.

Bijou smiled and continued to stroke the hidden skin on the back of Sara's neck, threading her fingers through the wavy strands of her hair. "He's having dinner with some faculty member or other and then he's coming over later. As to the rest, the only thing he will mind is that he missed this." With that Bijou closed the rest of the distance between their lips. She tested Sara's, brushing, sliding, pressing until they opened. One, or perhaps both of them sighed, a sound that seemed to unlock both minds and hands. What had been a motionless statue seconds before was suddenly alive.

Sara's fingers found Bijou's leg, circled her ankle and slid up to rest against the inside of her thigh. Her fingers stopped there and mimicked the circles Bijou had used to caress her wineglass. Her other hand interrupted their kiss, finding Bijou's lips, touching them as if to ensure they were real.

Bijou smiled and their eyes met again, this time in such fierce connection that Sara squeezed the thigh under her hand. Then, suddenly, Bijou drew back and looked serious. Shit, Sara thought. I did something wrong. I've gone too far. Maybe she doesn't want me. Maybe...

Bijou's drew her hand around to touch Sara's collarbone, lightly. Sara shivered, nearly overcome. Bijou's voice was low and serious. "You sweet, sweet creature," she murmured, "I would give just about anything to seduce you right now. You're a fucking dessert cart, I mean look at you, and I fell in love with your brain three years before I ever saw you in person, so you're doubly dangerous. But I will not, will NOT," and here she took her hand away completely, so she could focus. It took all her strength to move her hand, but she wanted to be sure. She took a deep breath, "I will not talk you into something you wouldn't ordinarily do. Just because I..." I shouldn't say it, she thought. No, dammit, the truth. The truth or nothing. "I find you luscious on every level, and it would be an honest dream come true to take you straight into the bedroom and see what kind of noises I could get you to make..." She trailed off, distracted. Shook her head. "You've had three glasses of wine, and I know you didn't come here to... and I won't let..." She trailed off again, lost.

Sara chuckled, enormously relieved. She hadn't let go of Bijou's thigh, and now she ran her hand up, very deliberately, over the soft waist, deliberately brushing a nipple as she went by, and tugged a handful of Bijou's hair.

"You've known me long enough to know I can handle three glasses of wine," she said, "and as for the rest of that, um. All I know is I can't keep my eyes off your mouth, and..." she drew her fingers around to touch those lips, now opening into a smile that was both relieved and agenda-soaked. Bijou leaned forward and took her fingers in, two of them, biting them gently and then flickering the tip of her tongue between them.

She watched as Bijou sucked the two fingers into her mouth, her own mouth mirroring with a half moan, half whimper. Then Bijou slipped the fingers from her mouth and pressed them firmly into Sara's own mouth, smiling again as she watched her skin flush. Bijou felt an electric surge, watching Sara respond so clearly to her own touch. There was a clear test of power here, and Sara had clearly gotten off on the interaction. Both of them felt the heat rise at what had just been taught, and learned.

Sara flicked her tongue over the tip of her fingers as she slowly pulled them from her mouth and then slid off the couch onto the floor at Bijou's feet. She watched a flicker of surprise cross Bijou's face over her sudden move, but Bijou didn't stop her or follow. Sara was just doing what she always did when she wasn't entirely sure of herself-she was taking the lead.

She stood up and put her hand out for Bijou. She pulled the taller woman up so she was standing. Sara walked around her once and then stopped behind Bijou and whispered into her ear, "I want to be able to touch all of you, so I need you standing." As if to make her point, Sara drew her fingers from the tops of Bijou's feet, swirling around her legs, over the curve of her ass, around her ribs and up until she traced her collar bone.

Between two other people, this might have appeared to be a power game, but not between Sara and Bijou. Somehow this was completely familiar to them both. Perhaps this was their first time being intimate in the flesh, but each of them felt the history that went far beyond that. "I want you to stay still," Sara whispered again into Bijou's ear, fingers stroking up both her sides. Sara knew she wasn't wearing anything under her the simple summer dress. The sun had helped her see the naked outline of Bijou's body earlier that day. She crushed the soft material in her hands and rubbed it across Bijou's stomach, her touch drifting lower and lower with each circle.

Sara kissed Bijou's shoulder and then whispered, "Don't touch me. You give to people all the time. I want this first moment to be my gift to you." As she said this, Sara slipped around to face Bijou again, kissing her shoulders as she slowly pulled the straps of her dress down. Bijou looked like she was going to say something but Sara gently pressed her fingers to her lips and shook her head. When she took her fingers away she didn't wait for an answer. She grabbed the remote and pressed play on the stereo. Both women smiled when the first few notes of Lakme began to fill the room. Bijou had been mooning around to the liltingly sexy Flower Duet earlier in the day. Go figure.

Sara's mouth moved down Bijou's neck, biting, kissing and tasting. She felt an intense surge of emotion when she saw the necklace of bat-shaped charms that Bijou always wore to commemorate her lost daughter. Strangely moved even in the midst of her desire, she kissed each of the bats before moving back to skin. She murmured between kisses, more to herself than anyone, "So soft." Her fingers pulled the dress again and this time it was enough for it to fall to the floor. "Beautiful." Sara's grin held more than a little evil as she deliberately circled Bijou's naked body, and then stood behind her without touching at all. She stood on tiptoes and lightly kissed just the edge of Bijou's ear. "Waiting is good," Sara whispered in answer to Bijou's frustrated little whimper.

Sara reached around Bijou, pressing her own clothed body into Bijou's back, and cupped her breasts. "Mmm," She opened her hands and rubbed her warm palms up and down across Bijou's nipples. Bijou cooed and writhed back against her, and her hands went up to cover Sara's, to press them down hard against her, to wind their fingers and arms together, seething with need. The touch rocked Sara's hips forward and she pressed her open mouth onto Bijou's shoulder. "God," she moaned. Their bodies together, even like this, were electric. But she had wanted this part to be simpler, less overwhelming. She gathered herself and straightened her stance.

"No no. This is about you," she purred, but she was honestly amazed to see Bijou's hands go obediently down to her sides. Being submissive? She looked around at Bijou's face, which, although her eyes were closed and she looked a little drugged, wore an enormous grin. Not at all a submissive look, thought Sara, laughing to herself. I thought not. But she's willing to play, oh yes. And that's where I want to go first.