Thank you all for your positive feedback on the first part of this story! Hoping to get more up sooner rather than later.
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Monday morning, I came back to what felt like an entirely different Sheridan Manor. The visit with my brother was nice and uneventful, only a few fights picked between extended family, and I was ready to return to the place I'd come to think of as my home in addition to my work. Construction crews had taken over the house. Scaffolding had gone up around the edges as they reinforced walls that threatened to crumble and re-faced windows that couldn't open.
I had to admit that I was nervous to see Sophie. I may have played confident -- and, sure, my skills had yet to disappoint -- but it wasn't exactly in character for me to pin a girl who'd never even had sex with another girl up against a wall and give her an orgasm before heading home. She didn't even have my phone number, for God's sake. I didn't know her favorite color or where she'd gone to college or if she had any siblings. Even a hookup from the local lesbian bar usually began with an hour of conversation and a few drinks before I had them climaxing around my fingers. Plus, I had no idea what she wanted or how this would affect things. Did she want a one-time confidence boost? Was she hoping for a girlfriend? She wasn't even out; would I have to help her through that?
Christ, I sounded like a teenager.
I shook the thoughts out of my head and pushed into my cottage around the back so I could get ready for work. Spring meant pulling up dead roots and planting new life in their place. Hours and hours hunched over earning a new neck tan and enjoying the dirt between my fingers and under my nails. I had to scrub for ages in the shower until my skin felt just a bit raw to get it all off at the end of the day. That slight sting always made me feel alive.
Half an hour later, I had on my trusty black tee, old loose blue jeans, work boots, and scrunched-up hair. The air in the greenhouse was delicious after even a few days away; it was earthy and soft and humid. I decided to dig into work instead of dwelling on Sophie. I didn't even want to talk with any of my fellow workers; what if they could sense the change in the air? I shook out the thoughts just as I shook the roots of a new plant for the front flower beds.
After prepping all my flower transplants, I took them in a wheelbarrow toward the main house, breathing mindfully as I approached the construction crews and other employees. I got down on my knees and started digging out the holes where the flowers would take root. The construction crew working on the upper floor windows shouted and clanged so loud it was hard for me to get into the flow of my favorite time of year.
Still, I kept my head down.
Around high noon, the moment I'd been dreading (and silently wishing for, deep down) came.
A soft, delicate hand found itself on my shoulder.
I turned toward her face, which blocked out the bright sun and created a halo around her blonde hair. Christ, she looked like some vintage Hollywood starlet. My heart skipped in my chest without my permission or thought. Today, she wore another one of those damn pantsuits that would dry me up on anyone else. This one was full secretary: Gray woolen houndstooth, ruffly white button-up, black nylon tights, kitten heels. She wore a deep, almost wine-colored red lip instead of her usual pink. I wondered, absently, if she'd done that to look sexy for me.
Her smile bloomed when our eyes met. "It's good to see you again, Ros. We all missed you over the weekend."
"Oh yeah?" I stood up, wiped the dirt on my jeans, and took her in properly. "Even you?"
She took a step closer and, for a split second, I thought she might kiss me then and there. But, of course, she didn't. She wouldn't. I wished she would. Instead, she whispered, "Especially me."
I grinned. "Good. Looks like they're making some solid progress on the place."
She practically squealed. "You should see the work I've been doing on the interior! This is the first time I've been collecting and designing it all myself. Everything is so stunning. The main bedrooms are nearly ready for the open house next weekend. We're going to get this place sold in no time."
That thought made me sad, naturally, as did every sale of the house over the years. But that was beside the point. She was proud, and I didn't need to take away from that -- especially since the way she brimmed with delight was so cute. I said, "If you're in charge, I'm sure it's all going to be as gorgeous as you are."
Her cheeks turned rosy, which only made me smile more. Sophie shook her head in a way that reminded me of an hour ago. Getting rid of the thoughts that made her nervous. After a few awkward beats between us, she offered, "Do you want a tour? Nobody has let me gush about all the pieces we've picked out, but I have a feeling you might."
"Happy to let you gush."
She turned around as her cheeks reddened further. I followed her up the marble steps -- their cracks and chips expertly filled in now -- and through the front door. I stopped by the first bathroom before the grand staircase to wash the dirt off my hands. Never know when you might need clean fingers.
Sophie led me up the curving stairs to the lofted entryway, then down the east wing of the manor toward the more opulent master suite. Along the way, she pointed at newly installed crystal light features, paintings by local artists I'd never heard of, wallpaper sourced from lands far away, excited to share every little detail with me. Even though I didn't know much about that sort of thing, I had to admit I was impressed by her sense of style. She hadn't turned the storied old home into a tacky beige nightmare like so many of the "renovations" around here. The pieces were period-accurate or close to it and fit naturally into the history and energy I'd come to love.
We reached the master suite and I took in a deep breath. "Wow, Sophie, this is just..."
The room had gone from an abandoned space full of potential to a cozy, elegant bedroom. The sweeping canopy bed had sheer drapery and emerald pillows. A stunning vanity with a mirror nearly to the ceiling sat opposite the bed, its dark wood carved into whorls and flora. Even the area rug felt lush and clean while being antique.
Sophie ran her hand over the silken emerald bedspread. "Isn't it, though? I'm very proud of this one. Hopefully everyone will love it as much as I do."
"I can't imagine how they wouldn't," I replied, and I wasn't lying to be nice. "You've got a real eye for this stuff."
She turned to me with a nervous smile and took my hand after checking nobody had followed us down the corridor. "Really? Dad thinks I'm too much of a maximalist. Says nobody likes clutter anymore."
"No, no," I assured her, "he probably thinks a house shouldn't look lived in. You've made it feel alive in here again."
She kissed me.
I pulled back from her, surprised, and held her shoulders.
She stammered, "Oh, I'm sorry, is that not okay? I just thought after-"
I kissed her back, this time ready for it and wanting it. Her lipstick tasted like strawberry as it mixed with my chapstick. I noticed immediately that she'd gained confidence over the weekend. Her lips urged mine forward. Her tongue gently but insistently played with mine. When I grabbed her lower lip between my teeth, she gasped with anticipatory pleasure but didn't pull away or yelp. And when my hand snaked back behind her head and grabbed a fistful of her hair, she ground her body into mine.
