This is more love story than sex story. If you hang in there long enough there's eventually some sex, but that's not really what it's about. Don't say I didn't warn you. If that's not what you're looking for, if you're too young to view this legally, or if the idea of two women falling in love and having sex just weirds you out - go outside and play.
I'm indebted to jacuzzigal for editing and more. To whatever extent this story has merit, it would have had much less without her help.
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For what seemed like the hundredth time, Jeanne alternated taking her hands off the steering wheel and flexing her fingers to relieve the cramped muscles. "Damn it, I'm never going to get there," she thought. Almost as soon as she had started driving, a heavy fog had rolled in, making her to slow to a crawl and grip the steering wheel so tightly that her hands cramped. Then to add insult to injury, when she was still about an hour away the rain started - and came down in buckets for the rest of her drive.
Diana had been sitting on the wide windowsill for nearly an hour now, worrying and watching for Jeanne. She had tried to keep herself occupied, but as the evening wore on, she found herself unable to concentrate on anything else. When she finally saw headlights coming up the lane, hours late, she ran out to meet her friend with a huge umbrella. They put off the greetings until they could run in out of the storm.
When they were finally on the dry side of the door, still catching their breaths, they paused and looked at each other. Diana said, "Hi. Glad you could make it," and they both laughed, relieving some of the tension they had been feeling, each for a different reason.
Diana gave Jeanne a big hug. "Seriously, I'm so glad you're here, Jeanne. I've been worried about you. Was your drive horrible?"
"Horrible doesn't do it justice," Jeanne replied. "It's going to take me a while to unwind."
"Would a glass of wine help?"
Jeanne didn't have to think long. "Sounds wonderful."
Diana disappeared into the kitchen, telling Jeanne, "Make yourself at home. And try to relax."
As she waited, Jeanne studied her surroundings. This had to be one of the coziest rooms she had ever been in. Old, obviously, with stone walls and hand- hewn ceiling beams, and a massive fireplace taking up most of one wall. Small though; with a bit of a stretch, she could touch the ceiling, and she could probably cross the room in five or six steps. With all the wood and stone and antique furnishings, it seemed like the room would be dreary, but it was just the opposite. With the fire burning away, adding a faint wood smoke aroma, and Nora Jones playing softly in the background, she could easily see herself curling up in one of the big stuffed chairs and spending hours here. Or days - which, come to think of it, was the plan.
When Diana came back with two glasses of Riesling, they sat and started to catch up. Jeanne lost track of Diana's words for a moment, though, as she found herself staring. Diana looked...well, fantastic. Better than she had in years, Jeanne thought. She had thought for years that Diana was wearing her auburn hair too long and full for her face, but whoever had cut it this time really knew what they were doing. It was finally flattering; much softer.
Really
flattering, in fact. It didn't just frame her face, it positively caressed it. And country life seemed to have given her face a color that made the whole package - hair, skin, and eyes - work together terrifically, and really made those green eyes pop. It was more than skin-deep, though. Diana seemed to have a calm and a confidence that Jeanne hadn't seen from her in a long, long time.
When the tables were turned and Diana had time to study her friend, her thoughts were less flattering. Jeanne looked absolutely exhausted, and what's more, she looked like this wasn't a recent development caused just by the drive. She seemed nervous, not remotely relaxed. And was this the girl who usually took a lot of care with her appearance? She didn't seem to have given it an instant's thought. Diana was increasingly glad she had invited Jeanne for a little break.
If nothing else, Diana decided, she would at least make sure Jeanne left here more rested. "I was thinking; it's pretty late and you're exhausted. What if I draw you a nice hot bath, and we save most of the catching up for morning?"
Jeanne's instinctive response of, "No, no, please don't go to any trouble," died before it crossed her lips. She had to admit that a hot soak sounded wonderful.
"Then come with me," Diana said, taking Jeanne's hand and leading her up the stairs.
Turning to the door on the right, Diana showed Jeanne her room, and excused herself to run the bath. Jeanne hadn't tried to bring her bags in from the car in all the rain, so she just sat on the edge of the bed, taking in the amazingly cozy room, sipping her wine, and waiting for Diana. She was also thinking about her friend. Diana had always been a dynamic sort of person, and no one's first impression of her would have been that she was the nurturing kind. But Jeanne thought nurturing was a good word for the way Diana was acting now. Imagine Diana thinking to draw her a bath! And Diana had obviously been genuinely worried when Jeanne was late. This was a calmer Diana, more concerned about other people, and Jeanne thought it was a little different, but really very touching.
Diana returned, with an arm full of towels. "There's a smaller bathroom downstairs that we'll make yours while you're here," she said, "But to soak in a big tub, I'm afraid you'll have to use mine."
"I wouldn't care if this tub was in the garage, Di; just point me to it."
The tub was just getting full when they crossed the hall to the opposite door and went through Diana's bedroom to her bathroom, and the bubbles were piling up. Diana turned the water off, handed Jeanne towels, and said, "I'll be downstairs if you need anything. But if you're bushed and want to go straight to bed, that's fine, I'll see you in the morning."
"Oh, I'll see you before I turn in," Jeanne replied. "I'm pretty sure I couldn't unwind enough to go straight to bed."
Jeanne peeled off the clothes that felt like she had been sweating in them - which in fact she probably had, she realized - and paused in front of the mirror for a moment. Who was she to make judgments about how Diana wore her hair? It was obvious she hadn't been taking care of herself these past few months. She could use a good cut herself, and her honey brown hair was just scrunched into a shapeless wad on the back of her head, without a thought given to how it looked. Her golden-brown eyes, that she had always considered one of her best features, were getting lost in the tiredness showing there, and she hadn't made even a token attempt to do anything about that with makeup.
They were the same age, and it pained Jeanne to think that while she probably looked older than her actual age, Diana looked years younger. She certainly hoped a little time here would be as good for her as it seemed to be for her friend.
And yet, as she settled into the hot water, she knew none of that would matter to Diana in the least. She thought, "Now I remember why I made that god-awful drive. It's so nice to be with an old friend that I'm completely comfortable around."
Jeanne lay back in the tub, sipping her wine, and enjoying the faint floral fragrance and silky feel of the bath salts, and feeling the tension drain from her body. As she started to relax, her mind wandered over the things that had led her to this point. Her current funk was, at least on the surface, caused by her second husband leaving her for someone younger...a lot like the first one had. That had knocked her for a loop, of course, but it seemed to be more that that. He'd left nearly six months ago, and she should be recovering a little more by now. Jeanne thought she was too young for a mid-life crisis, but here she was, feeling completely dissatisfied with nearly every facet of her life. She didn't know what would fix that feeling - God knows she wasn't ready for another man in her life - and she had really been sort of drifting for a few months.
She felt like her life was less together than when she left college almost fifteen years ago, and although it seemed like she should surely be all cried out by now, the reservoir of tears was apparently bottomless.
While Jeanne soaked, Diana sat downstairs with a magazine open in her lap, but the pages weren't turning. Jeanne's presence had brought up thoughts of her own past that weren't particularly pleasant.
Diana had been through some pretty rough times of her own. But she really was getting through them, and coming out stronger than ever. She'd had marriage troubles of her own, as Jeanne knew all too well. Diana could never forget the night she had shown up at Jeanne's door with tears running down her cheeks and blood trickling from her lip. "I didn't know where else to go," she remembered sniffing through her tears. That was the beginning of six weeks of staying with Jeanne while untangling herself from an abusive husband. She could never forget Jeanne's support and generosity during that time. It was entirely possible, she knew, that Jeanne had saved her life. Inviting Jeanne here now and offering whatever comfort she could wouldn't begin to repay her for that, but Diana would do much more very gladly for the woman who had pulled her through that horrible time.
