Lucinda browsed slowly through the racks lined with hung clothing. Slim and tall, she moved with a fluid grace that often drew the eye of both men and women. Her shoulder-length hair framed a pretty face, and the shopkeepers all fawned over her; she already had two bags in her hand. Why not add a third?
Her fingers felt the texture of the cloth. She smiled here and there, lifting a shirt to inspect it, generally returning it. The clerk walked by: "Do you need any help?"
Her head lifted followed by her eyes. A smile, rather slight, appeared on her face. Her spoken voice was soft and cool. "No thank you, but I appreciate your offer," she said kindly. The clerk blinked; used to a curt "no," her more courtly refusal left her feeling a little warm. She smiled and turned before the blush beginning to hit her cheeks became visible.
She came to the lingerie. The selection was...exquisite. Reds, blacks, grays, whites in varying styles, but all would hug her form and show off her body to great advantage. She paused at one, her eyes sliding up and down. The corset-style bustier would fit snugly around her abdomen and cup her breasts well. The panties were a thong style, and the stockings felt luxurious. She checked the price, and then opened an app on her phone.
She checked two more apps, and then smiled a little. Strictly speaking the cost was slightly beyond what she ought to spend; she had allotted an amount for this day's trip and she had parted with about half of her allotment. This little number would push her past her budget but would not shatter it. And she had the image of Emma walking into the cottage they shared, all gruff and cranky from dealing with a pushy client, setting her camera down and walking into the bedroom to see her lying there on the bed, wearing only the lingerie. Emma's mouth would fall open and that hungry expression would hit her face.
The image was simply too appealing. She opened her text app and fired off a message.
Lucinda: I am shopping.
Emma: With what money?
Lucinda: You know I keep reserves!
Emma: Cinder, we talked about this! You can't keep spending - we have our trip!
Lucinda: It's my money!
Lucinda put her phone in her purse, ignoring the further dings. She loved Emma, but her conservative approach to finance irritated her. Besides, she was due to get her bonus in a few weeks and it was going to be a big one. She had generated over three quarters of a million of new business in the past twelve months. The bonus was definitely going to be a big one.
She sighed after paying for it; the credit card had wept a little. She toted her third bag out to her car, drawing her coat tightly around her body in a futile attempt to stave off the icy winds buffeting her on the short trip. She put her bags on the passenger's seat and turned the car on, waiting for the heat to begin. She checked her phone and read through increasingly irate messages from Emma.
Lucinda: Its too late, I bought what I bought. You know I'm expecting the bonus.
Emma: What if its not the amount you think it is! The trip to Mallorca hangs in the balance!
Lucinda: Emma, I always pull my weight and you know it.
Now it was Emma's turn to go silent. Lucinda set the phone down and put the car into gear now that it was warm enough to touch the wheel. She had a long drive to make, about two hours, mostly due to the rural nature of where they lived and the fact that the roads were abysmal. She cued up some songs on her music app, and tapped the steering wheel in time with the litany of songs, occasionally singing along albeit horribly out of tune. She could not sing; out of deference to Emma's tender ears, she never sang when she was with Emma. But alone in her car she was free to wail and warble to her heart's content, regardless of her lack of ability.
The cottage was empty; Emma had not yet returned from her three shoots that day. Lucinda exited the car and went into the house. She tried on her three purchases, one at a time. The gray pencil skirt fit perfectly, and she hung it up near her rows of starched blouses. That was a work outfit, one she would wear at her final presentation for the potential new business. She never dressed provocatively for such meetings; always some form of starched shirt, skirt and stockings or hose with sensible flats. Wearing high heels made her feet ache and she hated achy feet distracting her during presentations. Initial meetings or lunch meetings were better suited for the heels.
Her second purchase was a thick woolen sweater. It was sweater weather now, and she had many - as did Emma. In fact, if Emma had a uniform, it was her thick, warm sweater and her jeans. She had to work, getting down on the ground sometimes, kneeling other times. She needed the heavier denim material on her lower body as a result. Plus, it wasn't like a photographer had to walk into a business meeting and put a beautiful face to match that beautiful voice she had. She had to be sensible, and of course, bossy.
***
That's how they had met; Emma had only a few commercial contracts and one was with her company. She did the head shots for new team members. Lucinda remembered her irritation learning that she had to drive thirty minutes out of the city in order to meet some unknown woman named Emma at some little photo studio she had in the center of a distant town. She knew the town; she had shopped there once or twice. It was quaint and she loved the idea of the town, but living there? She shuddered. She liked her city living.
She had walked into the studio and looked around. It was tidy and cute, the walls adorned with head shots and family portraits. Lucinda saw that this photographer was skilled at making people look their best and concluded swiftly that she was in good hands.
A door opened and a woman walked out. "Hi, you must be Lucinda! I'm Emma! It's a pleasure to meet you!" She strode forward confidently, her hand extended.
Lucinda's reaction was physically automatic; a smile, an extension of her own hand, and the brief but professional handshake. But mentally, she was shaken to her core. "I'm Lucinda, it's a pleasure to meet you as well, Emma. It looks like you do great work," she praised her.
The photographer grinned. "Thank you. I do like to keep this client happy."
Lucinda nodded. "I was told they send everyone to you."
"Yes, they do," Emma confirmed. Her voice seemed to slip into a different tone, deeper, softer. Breathy. There was a moment, right there, as two women met into a gaze that lingered for longer than it should have. Is she having the same reaction as I am?
Emma cleared her throat. "Uh, let's get started," she said as a trace of a fluster entered her tone.
"Yes, a good idea," Lucinda agreed. When the photographer turned, Lucinda's eyes dropped instantly to the curvy bum. She filled out her jeans exceptionally well, and Lucinda was barely aware that her tongue ran swiftly across her upper lip.
She followed Emma into the studio. There was a backdrop and many of the necessary elements for taking portraits. Emma's tone began firm, businesslike. She did not bark directions necessarily, but her tone was firm and direct. The shoot began, and for once Lucinda found it easy to smile. All she had to do was look not at the camera, but at the woman behind it.
What the hell is the matter with you Luce? She had not felt this instant an attraction to another woman before. She had endured such desires with men in the past; twice she had given into that sudden electric need. Twice she had left a wreck, hugely disappointed, heartbroken and emotionally barren. The two other times she had resisted her urges, upon learning more about her would-be lover, she felt only relief. Her body betrayed her all too often, at the expense of her psyche and emotional stability. It had never happened with a woman before, though.
As she sat there, she played a not-uncommon mental game. God you are sexy, she thought looking at Emma. The woman's face was a mask of concentration, her brow furrowed as she studied the snaps she had just taken. She looked intense and that made her look incredibly beautiful. Do you know that I am so wet that I will have to change my panties the moment I get home?
