Sara was thinking about Bijou's question, too. What is Will supposed to do next? And she found, amidst all the confusion in her mind, that she knew exactly what she wanted him to do. There was no way to tell him; he would have to guess, because there was no way she could force it out of her mouth, aloud. But yes, she knew what she wanted Will to do. There was no avoiding it.
A hot red silence coalesced within her, and she felt as if her skin were on fire for the man that was waiting in the next room, the one she had been waiting for, the one who was waiting for her. It was just like it had always been, at that moment; knowing he was right there, almost within reach, nearly tangible, and yet still invisible.
Bijou watched her, and thought fast.
And Will was indeed trying to decide what to do.
***
He'd let himself in quietly, expecting to find the two women still chatting in the living room, since Sara's car was still out front. It was obvious the moment he walked into the living room what had been happening. Bijou's dress in a heap on the floor, what must have been Sara's skirt and a blouse, and
oh oh god
hanging off the edge of a bookshelf, the hot pink lace brassiere, (never saw those much around bijou's place, his mind said idly, desperate to find something rational to do) that had to be
jesus. Hers. Sara's. He'd never been a fetishist, never had more than a normal straight man's interest in women's lingerie, but it was suddenly all he could do not to just... walk up, pick it up, perhaps (christ, get ahold of yourself, man) bury his face in it, breathe in. It was tangled badly, and far from the rest of the clothing. That would mean what, about the scene that had happened. Had she (Sara, my god, Sara) walked over, wearing nothing but... and where were the underwear? Did she not... or were they... suddenly I'm goddamn Sherlock Holmes, he thought wildly. Christ, I'm going insane.
He didn't touch the bra. And he tried not to think about the fact that it had taken all his strength not to do so. To pick it up, to imagine it shaping those breasts he had tried not to notice at breakfast the other day, those stunning curves. But he didn't trust himself to touch it, because the way he was feeling right now god only knew what he'd end up doing with it. He turned deliberately and walked toward the coffee table, his mind racing. Sara and bijou had been drinking this wine, here, holding those two glasses, still on the table, still with their lip prints on them. Two pairs of shoes had been kicked off. A tray of grapes, a corkscrew. Then they had... and then they had...
God. Perhaps even right now. For the first time, he listened for noises. Bijou was noisy. There was no missing it if she was involved in anything sexual. (He didn't know about Sara. Yet, his mind said. Yet.) What did Sara sound like, aroused, coming? Dammit, stop that right now. Focus.
But there was no noise, nothing at all.
They were asleep. They'd forgotten about him. He should just quietly leave. He couldn't resist peering down the hall a slight distance, and saw that the light was on in the bedroom. And in fact he could hear a low conversation, though he couldn't make out the words.
The words would have sent him completely over the edge, had he been able to hear them.
"What do you really want, Sugar?" Bijou's voice was half maternal, half tease. They were curled together on the bed, talking in low tones. Obviously a decision had to be made. "If you were Will's best friend now, what would you tell him to do?"
"I don't know," Sara breathed. It was confusing, putting it like that. What she wanted, what he should do. It was just that her whole body throbbed, her pussy beat like a hungry heart, her hands nearly shook for desire to feel skin, muscle, rhythm underneath them. Real. Him.
And of course her. Bijou. She looked over, still astounded by where she was and what had happened, which, mind-bending as it was, now seemed only a preamble to this next moment. For a moment she felt guilt-soaked. What was she thinking about, fucking another woman's lover, in her own bed, in her own house? But there was no escape there: this was Bijou. Obviously, she'd be more than fine with that.
Sara surrendered. She sighed and leaned back into Bijou's embrace. "I want him," she said simply. "I have, for so long. I've always wanted him." Her mind tried to go all sorts of places, old places. He couldn't really want her. He was just being polite. She didn't know what to do, where to start. All the old terror tried to insert itself into the odd, wild peace she'd been feeling. But she didn't let it. I don't care anymore, she thought. I'm so hungry. I've been so hungry for so long.
Bijou had had her on the edge, so very close, and then had brought her back down, and her body was throbbing with a low hum of need. Every little thought of Will in the next room made the heartbeat in her thighs a little more intense. She balanced on a primitive edge of complete opposites. She was overwhelmed with the pure need to be taken over the edge, by someone, anyone. And she was equally overwhelmed by the specific idea of Will, that unimaginable creature she'd desired for so long on a level that was almost purely intellectual and theoretical.
It was just too much. And what it came down to, really, at this moment, was whether or not she trusted Bijou to tell her the truth, to push her in the right direction, toward joy, toward what she truly, secretly and most deeply wanted. If Bijou said that Will wanted her, that he was just as self-conscious as she was, that he felt as she did, then it must be true; what reason would she have to lie?
Bijou watched the internal war, and crossed her fingers that she was doing the right thing. "He has always wanted you too, sweet," she said simply. "You know that. You can tell. You just keep talking yourself out of it. But you know it, don't you? I mean, here?" she tapped on Sara's heart, then slid her hand lower. Sara wriggled and gasped. "Yes," she admitted. "I know. At least, I think I know." She trailed off.
"You know," said Bijou. "Of course you know. You just can't admit that you could be, that you are, just that fabulous." Sara relaxed for a moment, and knew the truth of it. She was bright, she was hot, and she was worth a great deal.
But I'll go a step further than that," murmured Bijou, now trailing her fingertips over Sara's thigh, smoothly and infuriatingly. "I'll tell you that giving Will a way to get to you, like he's always wanted to, would easily be the nicest thing I could ever do for him. And I'm very, very fond of that man." Her eyes were shot with threads of steel for a moment, at that last phrase, and then she focused. "I want to give you to him like the best present ever. I want to wrap you up in a bow, in fact. That's what I want. But you tell me."
