The Art of Desire

Cold and hunger finally drove Meaghan and Sam to collect themselves. The truck rumbled quietly as Sam turned on the defrost, waiting for the windows to clear. Meaghan awkwardly slid back into her jeans and pulled her shoes into place before scooting toward Sam for a kiss. Their eyes met a long moment, then they kissed once more. "We really need to get back," Meaghan said in a rough whisper that was met by Sam's nod. Meaghan ran a hand over Sam's forehead, pushing back the stray hairs. "I meant what I said. All of it." Again, Sam nodded.

Meaghan's smile wavered, then strengthened. She leaned in for a last kiss, then slid toward the passenger side door and out. Sam jumped a little when the door closed, then sat silently as Meaghan started her own car, buckled in, and drove away.

It hurt to swallow as Sam looked away from the rearview mirror. She turned on the windshield wipers, then waited for the glass to clear a little more while she slowly drew her own seatbelt across herself. The cab smelled like Meaghan. Like her shampoo and her lavender soap, and like that scent that was simply Meaghan. Sam fought back tears again, but the urge was no longer as strong, just the lingering dredges of emotion.

Would they be okay? Sam wasn't used to making herself so vulnerable, and she still wasn't entirely over that first feeling of terror when Charles walked in on her in the shower.

But to be loved? Truly loved? All Samantha's lovers until now had been flings of one sort or another, some deeper, some purely physical with no substance. This felt so different. Like so much more. It shook her to the core.

She blinked as the wipers came to life again, breaking her train of thought. She sent a text to her brother telling him she was fine but staying home for the day. She knew he wouldn't ask for details, which was good. Sam had no idea what she might say, anyway.

* * *

Meaghan waited well into the evening, hoping Sam would return. She jumped at sounds and was uncomfortably nervous around Charles, though trying to be casual. That, at least, seemed to be on the mend. Strained, but healing.

Dinner was both simple and silent until the very end, when Charles asked around the rim of his beer bottle whether or not she'd been able to find Sam. Meaghan answered in as few words as possible, then fell silent again.

Minutes went by before Charles spoke up again. "Do I get to meet her?"

Meaghan looked up sharply, her green eyes wide. It seemed stupid of her to feel so startled, but the thought of the three of them being in a room together again put her on edge. Finally, she cleared her throat and nodded a couple times. "I should think so, yes. There's still the project upstairs."

"She didn't come back today, though." His tone was careful and measured, and Meaghan was unsure how to interpret it.

"You scared her this morning, Charles," she said gently, setting down her knife and fork. "I don't think being like she is ... you know, the whole rural Northeast ... thing." It sounded lame as she said it, but there was a look of muted surprise on Charles' face.

"I didn't mean to," he blurted, to which Meaghan smiled.

"I know that. It will all be okay." She looked down at the remains of her dinner, then pushed away from the table. She murmured something about taking ibuprofen, then gestured to the table, to which Charles responded he would clear up, and she should go lie down.

It all felt so scripted, but when Charles came to bed that evening, Meaghan did not cringe from his touch or his kiss. She was relieved, however, when he turned off the light and rolled away from her.

All she could think of was tangling with Sam in her truck, of her hands and her lips and her hair. She wanted to touch herself but, she could tell Charles hadn't fallen asleep yet. She felt an urge to get back in her car and drive into town, but she couldn't do that, either, so she mumbled something about getting a glass of water and slipped into her robe before going to the kitchen.

Her dim reflection greeted her from the windows when she turned on the light over the stove. It made her wrap the robe more tightly around herself, which is when she discovered how sensitive her breasts had become. Even through the thicker cotton, she could see her nipples standing out, and feeling suddenly angry with herself and her own betraying body, she turned away from the sight and stared at the cupboards.

What the hell was she even doing? Open relationship or not, how could she have been so careless? And here she was professing her love to a woman she had only known for five days. Four, really, if she didn't start counting until that first evening.

Yet, she couldn't deny the feeling, now that she had said it out loud. She had never been quick to give her heart away before, and for all this felt rushed, it did not feel

wrong

.

She turned back toward the windows and regarded herself, then laid a hand on the edge of the center island. Deliberately, she watched as she reached down with her other hand and slipped it between her legs, at first just pressing her fingers against herself. She could imagine Samantha standing with her in that reflection, her body warm against Meaghan's back. She could pretend that hand was Sam's, holding her, then stroking, then probing gently. So gently.

Meaghan's mouth opened silently as her finger slipped inside, her other hand pressing harder into the marble counter. She slowly rolled her hips toward that touch, and the image of Sam standing in her strap-on came to her. Her body ached to be filled again, to feel Sam's hips as they pressed against hers.

She added a second finger, then a third, and leaned down toward the counter while her hand thrust into her, slick and sloppy. She could feel her body tightening around her fingers, could feel the pressure building until with a strangled moan, she climaxed with an agony of pleasure.

As she came down from that ragged high, however, it occurred to her that she was entirely alone in that moment, and the shame of it made her straighten, unwilling to look at her reflection again. She washed her hands, turned off the light, and returned silently to bed, where Charles breathed slowly, having fallen asleep finally.

Meaghan listened to him for a long time before her own eyes agreed to stay closed, but after that, surrender came quickly and completely.

* * *

The apartment gradually darkened as the sun set, and Sam still lay curled under her quilt in the middle of her bed. Her cat had already given up on her for the evening and sat in the living room window watching the quiet street, but Sam couldn't make herself care.

She had been drifting in and out of sleep for the entire day, and as her eyes fluttered open, she was surprised to discover night had fallen. Her own anger drove her from the bed at last, but it was such an undefinable anger, it only made her writhe. She slammed a cupboard door so hard it made the cat scurry under the sofa to hide, which in turn made Sam feel even more guilty. Her head thudded back against the refrigerator as she leaned against it, skin feeling flush against the cool metal.

She knew she should feel hungry, but hated herself for the other hunger that burned in her. Exasperated, she grabbed the black dildo from the bathroom drawer and moved back to the bedroom. Hands moved mechanically as she tore out of her clothes and flopped onto the bed.

She was unsurprised to find herself already wet, though that, too, made her feel illogically angry with herself. Wanting to feel anything other than that anger and guilt, she positioned the dildo and shoved it inside. The sudden pressure walked that exquisite line between pleasure and pain, and Sam was relentless as she savagely fucked herself with it, fingers growing slippery as she gripped the thick phallus.

Silent tears fell as her body thrust itself toward that aching need, straining toward it one moment, away the next. Her climax danced just out of sight as the walls of her pussy throbbed, unused to being used that way. In the end, she let the dildo fall to the side and wrapped herself in her quilt once more while sleep stole in and soothed her aching body.

* * *

The next morning dawned almost painfully clear and sunny, mocking the previous day's drama. Meaghan could already hear the carpentry crew at work in the floor above them when she finally roused, her head throbbing while her body felt oddly light and empty. She showered by rote and greeted the housekeeper on her way to the kitchen. The windows were open a crack, allowing one of the first truly pleasant spring breezes of the season to drift through the house. She could just hear the landscaper at work on the far side of the lawn.

Someone had already brewed coffee, so she helped herself to a mug, then shook her head, marveling at how strange her own life seemed to her now. A housekeeper. Landscaper. There was a guy who took care of the barn and horses, too, a driver for when Charles didn't want to leave his car at the airport, and a woman she could call just to cook for them if they were having a function.

A lifetime ago, it was a lot to imagine she might host a party, but a

function

? Yet, this really was her life now. The one she had married into. There was even an annual ball Charles' family held; they had faithfully attended ever since she first started dating him.

Deep down, a small part of her resented it, if she was truthful. The clothes, the estate, this house. It made her feel insignificant, though she knew she had chosen Charles before she knew about any of the rest. It didn't keep the doubts from resurfacing every now and then.

She couldn't help but wonder what Sam thought of it. Sam, who had grown up in that tiny inland town just up the road, surrounded by loggers and small town people with their small town views and dreams.

The whine of an electric drill cut through the musing, followed by a rattling sound as a screw tightened. Meaghan took a deep breath and drank her coffee. A rebellious little voice in her head screamed that it shouldn't matter what Sam thought, or what Charles thought for that matter. And yet, it did. Her eyes wandered toward where she had been standing the night before, and a flush crept into her cheeks.

Which is how Samantha found her when she rounded the corner, headed toward the coffee maker. Her steps froze as she stared wide-eyed at Meaghan.

Meaghan's blush intensified as her fingers tightened around the mug, then realizing why Sam was likely in the kitchen, she quickly moved to the end of the island counter and set down her coffee. "Sorry, um..." Tongue-tied, she just gestured, but Sam still didn't move.

Finally, the carpenter broke the awkward silence after first glancing back the way she had just come. "I'm sorry I didn't come back yesterday." Her voice was hoarse, and Meaghan could see her eyes were as bloodshot as her own felt. Sam turned back to her and slowly moved forward. "Had to work through some things." She reached for the other woman's hand, which Meaghan took in both her own.

It was as if some pressure valve had been released. Both women drew a deep breath then smiled softly before Sam drew Meaghan into her embrace. They hugged each other tightly, both fighting tears by the time they pulled back.

A sound from the stairs made Sam turn toward the coffee maker, where she poured herself a mug and shot Meaghan a sidelong look, smiling slightly. Meaghan picked up her own mug again, then moved to lean against the counter next to the other woman.

She watched those brown eyes for a long moment before murmuring quietly, "Take all the time you need, Sam. I can still leave here, if you need the space to work."

"No," Sam quickly replied before dropping her voice. "I mean, you don't need to. I don't want you to go." Her fingers nervously fidgeted against the heated ceramic mug while she frowned at the cupboard, then turned back to Meaghan. "Do you think you could maybe stay with me tonight?"

Meaghan didn't hesitate before nodding, her smile tender as she gripped Sam's arm. "Come find me before you leave," she said quietly, hand tightening before she moved away. A moment later, one of Sam's guys appeared, so Meaghan cheerfully told him to finish the pot, she would brew more in a moment. Her eyes met Sam's for a second, then she moved out of sight.

* * *

Convincing Charles had been easier than she expected. For a brief, illogical moment, it bothered Meaghan just how well he was taking things, but at the same time, she wasn't surprised. He was a genuinely good guy, and while they hadn't had to discuss this possibility in years, it was still part of their marriage. She just needed to figure out how to convince Sam.

As the afternoon began to fade toward evening, the crew upstairs finished early. Fans drew the scent of fresh paint from the house, and there was little more they could do until everything was dry. The four men left the house, but Meaghan could hear Sam tidying up before her much lighter footsteps sounded on the stairs. Meaghan waited in the entryway, her jacket bunched in her hands while she tried not to feel too nervous.

Sam's quick smile dispelled the anxious feelings, though. "Nothing like a hard day's work," the carpenter began to say before her eyes darted to the side, clearly searching for signs of Charles. Finding none, she leaned in to kiss Meaghan gently.

Meaghan rubbed a thin layer of dry latex paint from Sam's cheek as she grinned at the other woman. "Ready to get out of here?"

Sam nodded, returning to something closer to the woman Meaghan first met. She gestured toward the door, then led Meaghan out to her truck. In minutes, they disappeared down the road that wound back to town.

* * *

The evening began both subdued and ...

normal

. Sam cooked. Meaghan peeled vegetables and made a salad. They shared a bottle of wine. Both were clearly dealing with emotions they did not wish to voice just yet, but aside from some light banter and avoidance of the more gossipy topics of discussion, dinner was a quiet affair.

It wasn't until later, while she was washing dishes, that Meaghan started to slip. That hot, stinging feeling in her eyes, the knot in her stomach. There must have been something obvious in her posture, because within seconds, she could feel Samantha at her back. The carpenter's strong arms wrapped around Meaghan's shoulders, holding her tightly. Meaghan could feel subtle callouses as Sam gently rubbed her much smaller, softer arms.

For a drawn-out moment, Meaghan simply leaned against Sam, fighting so hard to keep herself from crying. The tension subsided, and she turned in those arms to cling tightly to the other woman, neither of them caring that Meaghan's hands were dripping onto the linoleum, or that water soaked into Sam's shirt as Meaghan wrapped her own arms around the other's waist.

"Please don't give up on us," Meaghan murmured, her voice small and strained. She felt Sam's arms tighten. "I know it's hard. I know it's a little weird, but there's a way. There has to be." Her hands tightened in the fabric at Sam's back.

Sam lowered her head, softly nuzzling against Meaghan's neck. She seemed to be holding her breath for several seconds before she took a slow, gently shuddering breath. "I want to find that way," she whispered hoarsely in Meaghan's ear, and Meaghan could feel the warmth of new tears.

She leaned back just enough that she could place her hands against the sides of Sam's face, then she pulled that face toward hers for one long, tender kiss neither woman seemed to want to break. When they did, they were both smiling. The silence was broken by a sudden soft laugh as Sam first scrubbed at Meaghan's tears, then her own. Then, without warning, she scooped Meaghan into her arms and carried her to the bedroom.

With movements unhurried, touches lingering, they explored each other in the comfort of Sam's bed. Darkness hid their expressions, but there were so many other details and cues that slowly fanned the embers into a growing passion.

Sam lifted Meaghan's shirt over her head, then slowly pushed her to the bed. She leaned over the other woman and gently pressed her lips to the impossibly delicate skin just below Meaghan's collarbone while her fingers grazed over her smooth torso.

Meaghan's back arched slightly, pushing her into that kiss before she pulled off Sam's own shirt, dropping it to the side before she reached for the clasp to Sam's brassiere. Quickly done, that soon joined the small collection on the floor. She pushed at Sam until she could roll on top of the other woman, then leaned down to take one of Sam's nipples in her mouth. As she gently sucked, she could feel it hardening in her mouth. Her fingers raked down Sam's sides, making the other woman squirm. Her hands curved against Sam's waist as she kissed the other nipple, tongue flicking it gently, teasing it to life.

Sam could take no more of that and had to push Meaghan away, but only so she could kneel beside the smaller woman, her breasts grazing across Meaghan's arm. She began to unfasten Meaghan's jeans, then moved so she could slide the garment down her legs, trailing kisses along the smooth white flesh as she did so. Next, she reached up to tug at Meaghan's panties, which soon fell to the pile of clothing beside the bed.

By now, with that slow burn growing toward real passion, Sam helped Meaghan remove her own jeans, until finally both of them were kneeling on the bed, naked bodies pressed tightly together as they kissed. Sam's rough hands massaged Meaghan's back with feverish urgency, while Meaghan's hands caressed Sam's sides, her own touch coyly light.

Despite the increasing fervor that was clear both in kisses and body heat, neither woman seemed interested in rushing. This was far more tender than in the few days before, attentive rather than cautious. After several minutes, however, the burning ardor between them could be ignored no longer, and when Sam reached down to gently slide her finger along Meaghan's clit, she felt nothing but slick heat.

She was going to hold back, but Meaghan pushed her hips forward, and with no resistance, Sam's finger slid easily inside. Meaghan bit her lip, unable to hold back as she strained toward Sam's touch. Sam added a second finger and wrapped her other arm around Meaghan's waist, holding her tightly. Her own hips rocked slowly, thrusting those fingers deeper with each swaying movement.

Sam pushed Meaghan to the bed and knelt between her legs, her hips colliding with Meaghan's as her fingers continued to fill, continued to thrust. Meaghan wrapped her legs tightly around Sam's hips, not entirely in control of her body as her hands gripped the quilt.

For as slowly as their lovemaking began, it quickly escalated toward a climax that seemed to peak for an eternity, first shivering through Meaghan's body before she cried out with the sudden crash. Unexpectedly, Sam's own reserve began to collapse as the feeling of Meaghan's orgasm around Sam's fingers caused the carpenter to head toward the brink. Before she realized what was happening, her own body shuddered suddenly, and she let out a blissful groan.

Their breathing was ragged, cries almost synchronized for a few precious seconds before Sam slowly lowered herself to Meaghan's body, her fingers still limp inside the weak spasms of Meaghan's pussy.

Meaghan lifted a shaky hand to rest on Sam's back, grateful for the warmth. Now that they were still again, the evening's chill was sweeping in, but neither woman seemed to care enough yet.

"That was a first for me," Sam admitted in a low voice that contained a ragged, husky burr. She swallowed once, then twice, then managed to carefully push herself off her lover, her fingers pulling free and bringing another tiny gasp from Meaghan. Not sure if Meaghan was watching, or even entirely awake, Sam licked her fingers clean, delighting in the subtle scent and subtler flavor that she now knew simply as Meaghan.