The next morning, the house was already full of activity by the time Melissa woke up. She lay in bed for a while, listening to the sound of kids running up and down the hallway outside her room and reveling in the knowledge that the occasional shouts and *whack* of pillow against sibling were not her responsibility.
She heard Kirsten call out to her husband and closed her eyes, blocking out the other voices and letting her mind drift back to the evening before. Her breathing slowed, one hand strayed to her breast and stroked it, circling her nipple, while the other drifted downward, stopping just as her fingers grazed her clitoral hood. She licked her lips and thought she could still taste Kirsten on them.
They'd met a few years ago now, at a meetup for expat women; but because of circumstances - just life, mostly - they'd only actually seen each other a few times. Mostly they'd chatted by text. Somehow, chat about hairdressers had slipped into more personal topics.
The last time they'd met was only a few days before Kirsten had left, and Melissa had thought she'd felt something between them that hadn't been there before. An extra touch, a slightly too-long greeting hug, a spark that she maybe imagined, or maybe not. She'd decided to ignore it - everything she knew about Kirsten convinced her she was wrong. And anyway, Kirsten was leaving, so why risk ruining a friendship?
They'd continued texting, sometimes drifting apart, but sometimes skirting the edge of flirting. Still, Melissa was never quite sure if she was reading too much into it. This trip had felt like the perfect opportunity to find out.
And now, it seemed like she was right. She let her mind drift and imagined how it would feel to have Kirsten's hands explore her body.
A chorus of young voices broke through her reverie with the cry of, "Pancakes are ready!" Her eyes sprang open, and she snapped out of the mood moments before a small fist started hammering on her door. "Are you awake?" Followed by heavier footsteps approaching, then giggles as the child was scooped up by his father and carried away.
Melissa jumped out of bed, grabbed clean underwear from her suitcase and threw on her jeans and T-shirt from yesterday; then quickly crossed the hall into the bathroom. When she was done, she took a breath and opened the door and walked into the chaos of a family pancake breakfast.
The buzz of the family surrounded her and drew her in, kids squabbling and piling plates high with pancake toppings they wouldn't be able to finish.
All the while she noticed the glances between Kirsten and her husband - somehow fiery and soft all at once; reaching out to each other across the room - and could almost see the air crackle between them when they passed close by each other as they ferried breakfast things between kitchen and table. The tiny touches: fingers grazing while passing a bottle of syrup, a hand outstretched to brush a shoulder as Kirsten stands to get a cloth to clean up a spill.
These things sharpened in her focus and everything else faded to a background hum of noise and a blur of muted colors. Plates were emptied, the table cleared, and the kids vanished out the door into the sunny backyard. All pale against the sparkles flashing between Kirsten and her husband.
"More coffee?"
"Hmm?" Melissa shook her head to bring her mind back to the table, looked down at her almost empty plate, and into her empty coffee cup. "Ah, yeah, thanks. I don't think the first one did the job properly."
She glanced up at Kirsten's husband's twinkling smile and felt herself blush as she recalled the image of him standing behind her in the shadows, last night. He took her cup and headed to the kitchen as Kirsten returned from clearing the last of the condiments.
"Come into the living room and we'll plan out the day," said Kirsten, slightly too brightly, but not meeting Melissa's eyes.
"I'll bring the coffee in there!" Kirsten's husband called out from the kitchen.
Melissa shoved the last of her pancake into her mouth and made to pick up her plate, but Kirsten stopped her.
"Leave it, he'll deal with it. He needs something to keep him busy;" this last said loudly and in the direction of the kitchen, from where came a hearty and ever-so-slightly sarcastic fake guffaw in reply. Kirsten laughed quietly and walked through to the living room without waiting for Melissa to follow.
Two steps behind, Melissa noticed Kirsten begin to sit on the couch, but straighten again at the last moment, and continue to the only armchair in the room.
Melissa followed Kirsten's lead and avoided the couch, instead perching herself on the arm.
She glanced at the spot where Kirsten had lain last night, and smiled at the warmth building up again in her pussy. She closed her eyes for a moment to enjoy the memory. She opened them and met Kirsten's gaze.
Kirsten blushed, looked away, shook herself as if shaking the memory off.
A freeze washed over Melissa and she realized that Kirsten hadn't met her eyes all morning - in fact, she'd barely acknowledged her at all, until just now. Maybe she should just avoid the awkwardness and go to a hotel for the rest of her time here?
"Right. When do you need to be at the airport?" Kirsten asked.
Melissa swallowed. Did Kirsten really feel that weird about what happened? "Oh, you mean to pick up the others," she gasped with relief.
Melissa pulled out her phone to check the flight details. "Yes, of course. What did you think I meant?" She laughed, but it sounded forced.
"The flight gets in at four fifteen. They'll have at least one bag checked. So... maybe half past?"
Kirsten's husband brought in the coffee and handed one to each woman. He did a slight double-take at the seating arrangements.
"The couch is more comfortable on the seat part," he joked to Melissa before sitting on the comfortable part, at the far end from her. "So, what's the plan?"
He looked enthusiastically from one to the other as he awaited a reply.
Eventually, they figured it all out: an easy day out with the kids for Melissa and Kirsten, then home; and someone would drive Melissa out to the airport for her family and pick up dinner for everyone on the way home.
The day went as those kinds of days often do - constant requests for snacks and drinks and someone hitting someone else and "where did you leave your shoes?"
The only unusual thing was the energy between the two women.
One moment, Melissa felt like Kirsten was standing unnecessarily - but not unpleasantly - close; the next, she was on the other side of the playground and avoiding eye contact. At moments when their eyes did meet, there was something; Melissa felt the memory of the burning need, and saw it reflected in Kirsten's face in the moment before she looked away, seeming almost embarrassed.
Conversation about anything not immediately relevant was awkward, as if they were strangers. Unasked questions hovered in the air between them.
In the car on the way home, Kirsten rested her hand on the gear selector, tantalizingly close to Melissa's thigh. Melissa could feel the warmth of it radiating through her shorts, and it kept her mind occupied as they drove.
"We're cutting it close, to get you to the airport on time," Kirsten said when they were halfway home. "Will you need anything from inside? I'll call now and get him to be ready to leave. He's better than me at getting there quickly!"
"No, I think I've got everything. Just need my phone, really, and I've already got that."
Kirsten was already tapping the car's screen to call her husband. He answered and agreed to be waiting outside, and Kirsten hung up just a few moments before they pulled up outside the house.
The moment the car stopped, the kids jumped out to ambush their dad as he approached.
Kirsten's hand was on the handle of the slightly open door, when she turned suddenly to Melissa, whose throat closed at the look on her friend's face. "Last night. I ... I drank too much. Sorry." The last word was mumbled as Kirsten turned away.
"Okay." There didn't seem to be anything else to say and it went unheard, anyway, as Kirsten was already halfway out of the car. Melissa wasn't even sure if the word had actually left her lips. She watched Kirsten greet her husband with a hug, peel the kids off him and race them into the house.
He climbed into the driver's seat and got himself settled; Melissa was still watching Kirsten as she stopped on the doorstep, glanced back at the car but turned back to the house before their eyes met. She disappeared into the house and the door closing behind her felt like the final word on the fantasy Melissa had enjoyed entertaining.
The drive was uncomfortable.
Melissa had always felt at ease with Kirsten's husband. They'd never really spoken much, but he always seemed to be in a good mood and friendly, almost flirty, in a good way. He'd felt like a friend within a few moments of their first meeting. But now she just felt exposed, remembering his role in the night before, the night that now seemed like a mistake.
Had he told Kirsten what he'd seen? Or had she told him what had happened?
Melissa had misread the whole situation, and now she wasn't sure what kind of damage she might have caused - both between them, and in her friendship with Kirsten. She sat staring out the window, ignoring his light-hearted attempts at conversation. Instead, she tried to put this feeling behind her and focus on seeing her own husband and kids.
It had been almost a week since she'd said goodbye to them all, at a different airport, far away. From the pictures she'd seen it seemed like they'd all had a great time without her. This trip - a few days of work with the added bonus of finally visiting Kirsten - had been her first time away from the family since the kids were born.
She had missed them, of course she had; but she also wasn't sure she was quite ready to drop back into the role of "Mum". Especially right now.
As the airport road signs got more frequent, she decided she only had one option: to forget about the night before, pretend it had never happened; ignore any feelings she'd had about Kirsten. That was done now.
"Almost there. Which terminal we headed for?"
