Craving

by easyonme

Summary:

Present day. Laurel's POV. Lots of description and internal monologue. Let me know what you think.

 

This is NOT a real story about real people. While some characters may resemble real-life counterparts, their descriptions and the narratives in which they are depicted are purely imaginary. This should be read simply as a work of fiction.

Chapter 1

Laurel stretched her legs out on the ottoman that doubled as a throw storage container, her feet bare, the bottoms of her extra-large sweatpants rolled up at the ankles. The view from the massive windows in her living room was already dimming in the evening light. She took a sip of her chardonnay before settling back into the cream-colored couch. She’d designed this room in all neutrals to give her senses a bit of break in this space.

When she was finally relaxed and comfortable, Laurel pressed the home button on her phone, unlocking it with her fingerprint. She considered the apps and sighed lightly as she navigated to her guilty pleasure, instagram. She checked her notifications first, scrolling past a chunk of new followers and several comments, then hundreds of likes on a new painting in progress and a beautiful picture of flowers she’d posted a few days ago. Some of the comments proved what weirdos people could be, so Laurel had learned to mostly ignore those. But a rosy hue crept across her cheeks as she allowed herself to enjoy just how many likes her posts received. She thought to herself, Every artist has a smidge of Narcissus in them, right?

After more than enough self-indulgence, Laurel let herself satisfy one more urge. She clicked on the search icon from the menu bar, and was yet again embarrassed to see she didn’t even need to scroll to find Jen’s name. Laurel clicked through to her profile and saw a single new post since the last time she’d checked.

Opening it, Laurel was instantly hit by a pang of jealousy to see some of her old friends hanging out together without her. Kate, Leisha, and even Ilene - at dinner with some women she didn’t recognize. Laurel tried to push it out of her mind, knowing rationally that this happened more times than she could count over the years since she’d left. She had left them. Though the mind may work rationally, emotionally her heart still ached at the sight.

Laurel took another sip of her wine as she looked for more clues as to what her friend was up to. Jen had simply tagged it #goodtrouble, which could only mean one thing - she was doing something political. Laurel secretly loved this aspect of Jennifer, how she was always trying to be a good human and do her part to make the world better. She clicked through to the profiles tagged on the photo, and sure enough, confirmed they were in DC. She let herself wonder for a minute what Jennifer was doing in the nation’s capital, especially with the rest of the OG trio in tow. Then, without thinking, she clicked on Jen’s tagged photos and was met once again with several photos of herself and Jennifer kissing, mixed in with current photos and some memes. Laurel closed her phone quickly and dropped it on the couch next to her.

Staring off into space, she let her fingers trace the stem of her wine glass up and down its length. Laurel wasn’t really sure what she was doing, but she had been allowing herself to scratch this very specific itch on and off for years. The cycle had returned faster since they’d finished filming the last season and Gen Q was canceled. She knew Jen didn’t leave her out on purpose. It wasn’t like she’d given her much of a choice in the matter all those years ago. Even though it was mostly her own doing, a small part of her hated how this left her wondering even more what was going on in her friend’s life.

She stood up, finished off her wine in one gulp, and stretched her arms over her head before retrieving her phone from the couch cushions. Laurel slipped her cell into her pocket and cradled the glass in her palm as she walked to the kitchen, not bothering to turn any lights on as she went. Bentley and Momo followed quietly behind her. She set the empty wine glass in the sink gently and made her way up to bed. The house was quiet, with one child away at college, the other staying over at a friend’s house, and her husband already asleep. Sometimes she wondered how she got here.

 

—

 

The next day she was up early, nursing a headache with lemon water and tylenol, but at least she was already in her studio. Laurel was too old to get away with a clear head after anything more than one drink the night before anymore. She sighed as she arranged her clean brushes in a row of mason jars on top of a wheeled cart filled with other supplies. Then she moved around the room, running a small blue rag back and forth in her hands. She examined the handful of pieces in different stages of half-finished that were leaning up against two walls. The light caught one that was too shiny to be dry, and she moved on to the next. That one just didn’t feel right for today. And so on and so on.

Having trouble deciding what to work on next, Laurel circled the space and eventually perched herself on a metal stool with a high table in front of it. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and leaned across the table on her elbows. The stretch felt good on her back as she mindlessly made her way to instagram again, following the familiar pattern impulsively.

This time she skipped her notifications and went right to Jen’s tagged photos. There were a few videos of her at The White House. With the Press Secretary.

It took Laurel a minute to process this. A small smile flirted with her lips. She was impressed.

She looked again and noticed the description that contained something about Lesbian Visibility Week, which Laurel hated to admit but she didn’t even know was a thing until just now. That pained her more than a little, as someone who once said that she still identified as a lesbian politically, even after coming out as bi. The writers would never admit it, but a lot of the original show was improvved, and that was never in the script.

Laurel played the video again and this time she took a moment to notice how lovely Jennifer looked. She wore a beautiful aubergine dress with what looked like irises embroidered into the silk. Her skin was radiant, her hair was perfectly in place, and though she looked a little solemn, Jennifer was as immaculate as ever.

What was it that drew her to this woman over and over? She wasn’t sure then, and she wasn’t sure now. Laurel felt a stab of guilt and clicked over to her messages. She scrolled down until she found the text thread with her husband and typed out, “Want to grab lunch at the Odd Duck?”

It felt like ages before his reply came, “Sorry. can’t”

Whatever, Laurel thought, and threw her phone carelessly onto the table. She hopped down and forced herself to go paint, resisting her desire to text Jennifer.

Chapter 2

Lacing up her tennis shoes by the side door, Laurel popped her earbuds in and adjusted the volume on her phone before tucking it into the small pocket in her leggings. She closed the door softly behind herself and made her way around to the front of the house, taking big steps until the end of the driveway to stretch her legs. She could already feel the difference in her thighs and ankles. Laurel gave her arms a few more stretches over her head and bounced in place for a second before jogging down the street.

She used to run a lot, but definitely didn’t do this often enough anymore. Laurel made a mental note to get a better sports bra. The trees were already explosions of vibrant green, most of their pink and white blossoms now just confetti under her feet. She pounded the pavement to the beat as George Michael crooned in her ears. Rounding the curve and making her way up a short incline, she could feel the burn in her chest. Wow, I must have been in great shape when I did this every day in college.

It was already starting to heat up even though it was only 7:30 in the morning. This was sure to be a steamy day, one of the reasons she loved Austin. It was like the air around you was always there, giving you a little hug. Once she made it out onto the main road, Laurel ran towards the sidewalk to avoid the sparse drivers. She tried to ignore the pain in her ribs and focused on the steady cadence of her shoes hitting the concrete. Remembering back to her field house days she hoped she wouldn’t regret this later. She would almost always end up with shin splints from running on the uncushioned surface.

When her head started to throb, she walked for a bit. One of her favorite Tracy Chapman songs came on and she rested her hands above her head as she slowed her thoughts to match her stride. Laurel decided to head back home after a while, and by the time she made it she was drenched in sweat. Feeling slightly satisfied with herself, she resolved to do this more often.

Laurel peeled her clothes off as she made her way up to the master bathroom. The sweat cooled to a chill on her skin in the air conditioning of the house. Henry had already left for work, but she found small clues that he had recently been in this same space - his toothpaste on the counter, a lingering manly scent in the air, and fresh flowers from the front garden in a vase next to the shower. Laurel smiled wistfully; he was good to her. She stood in front of the large mirror above her bathroom sink and examined her naked body. It was…different. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to getting older.

Starting the shower, she held her hand out absentmindedly as the cold water ran over it until it spilled down to the drain and became warm. Laurel stepped inside and the glass fogged over with steam quickly. She let herself daydream as her hands worked the shampoo into a lather throughout her hair. As her fingers slid in and out of the soapy strands, Laurel’s mind wandered to her favorite distraction.

She had checked the internet first thing when she woke and discovered new photos from several events in Washington. She wondered what it was like for Jennifer to be there at all of those parties. Walking amongst so many high profile politicians and smart people, she probably felt right at home in a way she didn’t in her everyday life. Jennifer did go to Yale after all. Laurel remembered one time they were relaxing in her trailer between shoots and Jen started to go on and on about global water resources - something about aquifers and saturation levels, saline reduction and ground water inversion.

To be completely honest, sometimes she found it hard to follow when Jen got into one of her rants. It was a little like listening to her husband talk about his job. Whenever Laurel thought of the ocean, she just saw all its facets of beauty - a million kaleidoscopic shades of blue, the way the light reflected off the water creating a magical aura, how it was always pulsing with its own soothing movement. That’s not to say she didn’t appreciate the grim facts of climate change; Laurel would just rather look at the beauty or a thing, or situation, or person.

She squished the soap out of her hair with both palms and rinsed it until the water ran clear as she thought about how it must feel for Jennifer to be in a room filled with lesbians who had all at least seen her unclothed, if not lusted after her completely as closeted teenagers. Laurel laughed a little to herself as she applied conditioner and quickly washed it out. I guess I do know a thing or two about that. It was just different when she was considering Jennifer in the same situation, and Laurel wasn’t exactly sure why.

A few seconds later she was towel-drying her hair, then wrapping herself in a fresh robe. She grabbed her phone off the counter and flopped down in the sun-drenched sitting area off the bedroom. She laid like a lizard on a rock. Laurel opened Twitter, and scrolled for a few minutes, then sighed and dropped her phone to her chest, looking up at the ceiling. It annoyed her how the platform had been ruined by Elon Musk. She used to actually enjoy it, until it became such a negative space. So many places were losing their humanness, their kindness. It was depressing.

She pushed the thought out of her mind and opened a new text message. Laurel started to type in Leisha’s name and then felt weird leaving anyone out, so she added Kate to the group text. “Hey ladies, I saw you were at The White House! Amazing 🤩 “ It made her smile to think about her old friends together. She missed them. It had been good to see them during her recent filming, but there was never enough time.

“Ummm I think you mean AmazeBalls!!” Leisha text back quickly.

“Minus the balls” Laurel smiled, knowing her friend loved her playful humor.

“🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻”

Three dots appeared and stayed on the screen for several moments while both Laurel and Leisha stared at their phones. Finally the text came from Kate, “hahaha”

Both blondes threw their heads back and rolled their eyes. Then Laurel sent another message, “But seriously that’s so cool. I’m proud of you.” She felt like a mom, which she was, but still.

“Honestly, I’m proud of us too.” Leisha replied.

“🥹” was all Kate said.

Then a few minutes later she added, “We missed you.”

As if reading her mind Leisha added, “We, as in all 3 of us…”

Laurel typed something and then deleted it. She stared at the ceiling for a minute, then typed something else and deleted it. Then she just stared at her screen.

“Text her” Kate said.

That was enough for Laurel to get lost in her thoughts for a good chunk of the day.

Chapter 3

Summary:

I had a breakthrough with this chapter and know exactly where the story is going now! I don't want to give too much away, but the painting is central to the theme. Hope you enjoy.

Laurel spent the rest of the week, into the weekend, and the entire following week painting. She was so far in the groove that she only put her head up for soccer practice and games, and sometimes to eat and sleep. Every once in a while the work would flow like that and it was all energy and sparkling passion. Laurel had been working on a few pieces in rotation for the past few months, but nothing was really sticking until now. Finally it was like she found the exact right feeling, and all she had to do was hold on.

After a few days her whole body ached, but she pushed through the burning feeling in her muscles. She ignored the ache in her neck from the position she’d spent too long in yesterday. She looked at her canvas over and over, from every angle imaginable, seeing new things that needed to be changed every time. Each moment she worked to embellish and highlight what was right with the brushstrokes. Laurel tried to keep the movement as organic as possible, pushing the oil out from herself as if it came from her own limbs. It was joyful work, but it was hard on her body.

Every night she would lay herself flat on the floor and stretch each ligament, righting all the muscles she’d tweaked during the day. She tried to be kind to her body and to relax her mind in these times too. She knew she had to save up her mental and emotional reservoir in times like these, because the trek to the end could be long and require the kind of patience that did not come innately to most people.

While she worked, adding more pigment here or more glaze there, Laurel thought about what this painting was evoking in her. When she painted, what she was essentially doing was creating a language to communicate abstractions on moods and places, emotions and people - to take what was most familiar to the viewer and ask them to look again. Laurel sought to communicate this relationship through the medium, and then she took a giant leap off solid ground, asking her audience to believe it, to feel it.

As she worked on this piece, she kept coming back to this yearning she had inside of her. She wanted so much. She wanted to share beauty with others. She wanted people to see how bright and fantastic and mindbendingly amazing the world could be. She wanted to be impactful. She wanted to tell stories that mattered to real people and get at the essence of emotions and reflect lived experiences back for those who didn’t get the chance to have a voice. She wanted those around her to feel nurtured. She wanted them to be able to come to her with their problems and know they weren’t alone and believe that no matter what their truth was worth telling. She wanted to protect her kids. She wanted them to be able to grow and flourish and enjoy life and make bold choices without fear of society’s reactions. She wanted to be a part of an epic love story. She wanted to feel like she’d loved someone for her whole life.

Laurel worked late into the night one night and as she stretched her hands and reached into her heart, she began to feel like she was being taken somewhere else, to a feeling, to a person, to a place. It felt so good, and she realized she didn’t want to stop. There was laughter and light, a magic feeling entered the studio. There was the ambiance of being surrounded by old friends, reminiscing about a time when she was younger, and the sense of being filled with love.

When she took a step back, Laurel saw sheer layers over a darker background, deep colors - a grounding black, a passionate red, neutral, earthy greens and browns - and a shimmering light all around the periphery. She tilted her head and brushed her hair back as it fell into her face. Laurel looked at her own painting curiously. Are those bubbles?

And just like that, right then and there, it felt like something, or someone, had grabbed her heart. This painting, this mood, this feeling - it reminded her of Jennifer, of their wedding, of a day she didn’t want to end.

Eyes widened, Laurel stared at it for a minute, and then she dropped her gaze and shook her head. She reminded herself, No matter how personal it feels, it was Bette and Tina’s wedding, not ours. Sometimes it felt like she was slicing a piece of herself off and setting it aside, giving it to the audience to interpret for themselves.

Chapter 4

The next several weeks were a blur of work in her studio. Laurel poured a few more pieces out of her soul. The paintings she created during this time were darker than her previous show, more fraught. They were charged with a tension you could almost feel glittering across the surface. She was excited about how this collection was shaping up, and a little nervous to share it in public. Though that was still a long way off, it was the kind apprehension that alerted Laurel to how good this work really was.

Eventually she began to pull the proposal together for a solo exhibition at the Pace Gallery in New York. If she got this show it would be a very big deal. But for now she tried not to think about that, just like she tried not to think about a lot of things.

When she sat down at her computer, she started with the paintings that would complement the main piece. These were all large-scale works, and she hoped there would be enough space for all of them. So many times, galleries had strict size restrictions, but she had to trust that her pieces would find where they were meant to go. There was one piece that conjured Denial, another about resisting a powerful Urge, and yet another titled Satiate, that came so close to scratching an itch buried deep inside her. There were several studies - these were mostly abstract kinaesthetic sketches and small canvasses with various dyes, tints, and glazes. They were all imbued with an unsettled feeling.

As she typed out all her thoughts furiously, Laurel danced around the main piece, not wanting to touch it. What am I afraid of? She thought to herself, staring off into the in-between.

She didn’t want to tarnish it. She didn’t want to make the wrong move. She didn’t want to upset the very fine balance of how things were right then and there in that exact moment.

There was this tension glowing just beneath her skin whenever she thought about Jennifer, which was everytime she thought about this painting now. That glimmering essence, whatever it was, that was the chemistry people saw between the two of them; she was sure of it. Laurel was scared to try and grab on to it, because what if it was like a live wire and it zapped her on contact and left a burn? Or what if, worse yet, it just needed to be grounded, and then the feeling would vanish. She wanted more than anything to reach out to Jen, but she was scared. And Laurel wasn’t sure if it was the good kind of fear. She wanted so badly to let that light go on flickering, day and night.

But she knew at some point she had to put into words what the painting that this collection centered around meant to her - how it had come to be. She considered it - all of it - the desire, the denial, the pleasure, the satisfaction. And just like that the title of the piece came to her - Craving. She rolled it around in her mind like a puppy does with a new tennis ball. That was what she was doing here, thinking, feeling. It was unbearable. She wanted to just consume it and get it over with. This wanting.

Laurel tweaked her Artist Statement just a little and then sent the packet off to her agent to review before she submitted everything.

That night she let her hand slip between her legs. She allowed herself to imagine Jen’s fingers on her hips and her scent on her tongue. She was so thoroughly intoxicated by the memory of the way her body moved when they’d filmed that last sex scene, that it was almost like she could feel that high again. When it was over her cheeks radiated heat and she could feel her pulse in her head. Laurel couldn’t help but chase that feeling with her entire being.

Chapter 5

Many weeks passed while Laurel obsessively checked her mail and resisted the urge to call Jen. Her days were filled with the expanding energy that always marked the beginning of summer. The last few weeks of school were a blur with graduation parties and sports tournaments, fine arts nights and shuttling her girls to and from get-togethers with their friends. One lazy afternoon that seemed like it could go on forever, Laurel was rolling around on the floor with the dogs, her face being covered in kisses by the youngest. She flipped over onto her stomach and reached for her phone on the side table. She could just barely reach it as she scooted her body awkwardly along the fuzzy rug below her.

Tugging her shirt back in place over her exposed side, Laurel got comfortable before she turned her screen on. Both dogs laid practically on top of her as she opened her email reflexively. After she got rid of a bunch of junk mail, Laurel saw a message from Claudine. Her heart felt like it did a cartwheel right then and there, even though she tried to tell herself it was probably just another print request or something about moving one of her pieces in the gallery. She made herself pause before opening the email to gather herself and make sure she was breathing evenly.

Laurel actually screamed when she saw the words on her phone. She couldn’t believe she had actually gotten the show at Pace! She wanted to tell everyone all at once - she wanted to scream it from the rooftops - she opened her contacts and clicked on Jen’s name before she had time to convince herself otherwise.

The phone barely had time to complete a full ring before Jen picked up.

“Hey you.” Her voice poured over Laurel like a rich, savory cream sauce. She unconsciously licked her lips.

“Hey!” Laurel chirped. “How’re you?”

“I’m good. How’re you?”

“Great!” She felt like an idiot immediately, but Jen didn’t miss a beat.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of this lovely call?”

Laurel could almost feel her smile through the phone she had pressed to her cheek, and it gave her just enough confidence to keep going.

“I couldn’t wait to tell you, I got into Pace!” Laurel beamed, despite herself.

Jen’s voice was so bright and genuine, she wanted to bottle it. “That’s amazing hun! Congrats!”

Laurel told herself not to overthink it.

“I hope you’ll be able to make it to the opening!”

“Of course, I’m there. Anything for you.” Laurel didn’t dare breathe as she tried to think of how to respond, but then after a pause Jen continued, “I’m so proud of you. This is a big deal!”

“Thank you…” Laurel rolled over and stared at the ceiling in her living room, resting her free hand on the silky fabric over her belly. “Hey, I saw you were up to some pretty big things too.”

“Oh, yeah…” Jen deflected.

“DC huh?” Laurel raised her eyebrows for emphasis as if they were talking in person, then realizing what she was doing lowered them again, chiding herself.

“I was really just crashing the party.”

Laurel swallowed, her lips tightening. She didn’t want to think about how Jen clearly only considered herself a bystander, an ally, an outsider.

“It was a pretty big deal for the community,” Jen said as if she could read Laurel’s mind.

Laurel nodded. “Yeah…”

“Leish was so serious the whole week…and did you see Kate?”

“She looked like she was going to cry!” Laurel exclaimed.

“I’ve never seen her like that. It was a truly moving experience.” She’d never get used to hearing Jen’s voice on the phone, like it was in surround sound.

“I’m sure it was,” Laurel played with the drawstring on her pants, looping it around her fingers and tugging absentmindedly. She contemplated saying something more, not sure if she had the courage. “It meant a lot, even to me.”

Jen made a guttural sound of agreement but didn’t say more, so Laurel decided to change the direction of the conversation. “So I saw you ran into some fans.” Her emphasis on the last word was a little teasing.

“Oh so you really were checking up on me, huh?” Jennifer mocked her lightly.

Laurel laughed. “I thought you couldn’t bear to come to the wrap party?”

“You looked like you handled it pretty well…You and Rosie.” Jennifer jabbed her again gently. Her voice was so light and airy at this point, her enjoyment unmistakable. She loved to tease Laurel.

“Ok, ok,” Laurel pleaded. “But I don’t think anyone there had posters of me and Rosie on their bedroom walls.”

“That’s just because they weren’t teenage boys. Your fans have more refined taste,” Jennifer explained seriously. “Look, I’m a fan of yours and I also don’t have any posters on my walls, so don’t judge a book by its cover, ok?”

“Fair enough,” Laurel conceded, while she wondered just how much of a fan Jen really was.

“So I’ll see you in September?” Laurel silently scolded herself for needing reassurance.

“As the President of your Fan Club, I’ll see you in New York.” They both laughed.

After they hung up, Laurel lay there for a moment with her phone in one hand and the other feeling her heart beat in her chest. “I miss you already,” she whispered to no one.

Chapter 6

On the night of the opening Laurel was in a back office to get away from all the action. She had her airpods in and was listening to a playlist of soft instrumental guitar songs. When a piece came on that made her feel like she was on the set of It’s Complicated, Laurel laughed at a silly memory; she had a running joke with her daughters where they acted out the chocolate croissant scene together.

Everything in the gallery was set. The paintings were hung with careful attention to detail, finishing touches were being prepared by the caterers on food and drinks, her agent was already making the rounds with collectors. She’d have to do some of that later, but for now she had time to ground herself in the peaceful practice she’d worked out over several years of experience. This pre-show routine had slowly become one of her favorite times. The sharp prickle of anticipation was there, but it was tempered by her calm knowing that she had already done all she could do to put together her best work - what happened next was out of her hands.

Laurel picked her insulated tumbler up and sipped the cool, refreshing water as she closed her eyes for a few moments. She ran through what she wanted to talk about in her head, and visualized herself standing in front of the appreciative crowd. Not long after this exercise she was ready. Laurel threw her stress ball and airpods into her bag and took one final drink before checking herself in the mirror by the door. She checked the time as she stepped out of the office, and made her way down to the exhibition.

The show began with a short introduction from the Curator. Laurel couldn’t help scanning the crowd for Jennifer immediately after taking the stage. When their eyes met it was like a secret chord played between them; Laurel could feel the harmonic vibrations flutter against the inside of her chest. She didn’t want to think too much of it, but it was kind of a big deal for Jen to show up for her like this. None of her other castmates were in attendance.

She smiled as she accepted the mic from Oliver, and stepped around the podium so she could speak more casually and directly to her guests. Laurel explained what these pieces meant to her, without revealing too much of the inspiration behind them, and tried to capture the essence of the show in words. It was never easy, but she did enjoy this part - the pulling out of herself that was required.

“Intuition is everything in life, and you have to really lean into it to find your truth,” Laurel said. “And find your path, even if it looks different to other people’s paths.” She played with the gold cuff that reminded her of a bracelet she had given to Jen as a gift just before they started filming the last season of Gen Q.

“You sometimes get to the point where you’re so open…” Laurel added as she looked across the room again, settling when she found Jen’s warm gaze. “As to be almost reckless,” She said as she held her eyes for a moment longer than was necessary.

In the end she thought she’d decently conveyed how her work represented the urge to fulfill an insatiable desire, and the process one goes through in seeking to meet that need. “With that,” Laurel invited all the attendees to walk around the gallery and take a look at her new pieces with a fluid motion. “Welcome to Craving.”

She was soon swept up in a conversation with her agent and an older couple who’d attended several of her openings now. It went without saying that anyone who could afford to travel all over the world just for their favorite artists, was a collector worth spending some time with.

Laurel caught Jen out of the corner of her eye accepting a glass of champagne from a server, and she watched her as she circled the room. Her dark hair fell in lush curls around her face and shoulders, her shoulders which were bare except for a black satin crossbody strap. Her drink sparkled in her graceful hand as she passed under the light in front of the main painting. Not able to break away from her conversation yet, Laurel felt pulled towards her as if by an invisible force.

Eventually she was able to leave her admirers in the confident hands of Claudine when she mentioned she had a real treat to show them. Laurel knew it was just the Studies, which Claudine loved to discuss in great detail, and she breathed out carefully as she slipped away.

Laurel made her way over to the illuminated wall backed in brick, and stood next to Jennifer. Not saying anything at first, she looked out at the painting with her. She had the feeling of seeing the world the same way as another person so intensely that it nearly felt consciousness-shattering.

“Hi,” she finally said.

They turned towards each other and Jennifer said, “Hi.”

The two women stared at each other with a palpable tension.

“So you like this one?” Laurel looked back at the familiar deeply hued painting and tried to imagine what Jennifer saw.

“Yes, I do.” She faced the piece of art again and paused before she said, “It feels like…something we have in common.”

Laurel’s eyebrow shot up. She was not expecting that.

“You have truly reified the concept of desire.” Jennifer’s words flowed so sensuously from her lips. Laurel didn’t dare look at her now, or she knew she’d surely unravel. The one person whose attention she coveted more than anyone else, as she’d come to admit to herself over the last few months, was standing next to her and complimenting one of her creations. She couldn’t think of anything else she wanted more.

“Thank you.” There was a long silence that pulsated between them. Laurel couldn’t let this moment slip away. The wanting was deeper than the risk she had to take, but she realized it was still a leap of faith. She hoped she wasn’t throwing away one of her most meaningful relationships by scaring Jennifer in the process.

Laurel took a steadying breath and finally she leaned closer to Jen and whispered, “You smell so good.”

Jennifer looked over at her through a cascade of curls and very seriously said, “Oh good. I thought you’d like this perfume. It’s new.”

Was Laurel imagining the events that were transpiring? She inhaled the smoky bergamot scent and considered the chance that the woman she’d been pining for all summer was now standing in front of her…flirting with her?

She smiled luminously, and Jennifer nearly winced. Oh no, Laurel knew that feeling all too well. A longing so cavernous that it felt like you were being thrown from a cliff, a hunger so all-consuming that it could devour entire days and nights and leave you with nothing but internal conflict. The expanse between what you knew you wanted and what you could reasonably expect to ever have so great you couldn’t fathom crossing the distance.

But still she was scared that she was wrong.

She watched as Jennifer’s elegant hand reached between them, making tentative contact first with her forearm, then pressing her fingers more firmly and dragging them down to Laurel’s wrist with intention in her eyes. “I’ve missed you.” She held her hand there. Laurel could feel her pulse against Jen’s fingertips.

She inched closer and extended her body slightly on her tip-toes so she could reach Jen despite being in flats. Laurel’s mouth hovered next to the taller woman’s ear, and she said in a low and breathy voice, “If I had it my way, we’d disappear for a while in that closet over there.” She tipped her head towards an inconspicuous door along the hall, and then brought her eyes back to graze across Jen’s lips. She was so close now, Laurel could see the exposed look in her eyes. She had the urge to scoop this vulnerable-looking baby bird up and take it home to care for her. “But if you can wait a few more hours for me, I’ve got a great hotel room with a view of the park.”

Jen held her gaze for a very intense moment before she finally cracked a smile. “Are you talking dirty to me?” She mouthed almost inaudibly.

A slow smirk crept across Laurel’s lips and into her cheeks as a new understanding passed between the two of them.

Chapter 7

Summary:

This is a long one. Hope it was worth the wait!

FYI this chapter comes with a rating change 😘

By the end of the night Laurel had already sold several paintings. It seemed like each show brought her more and more success. What more could an artist ask for?

She grabbed her bag and an armful of papers from the event and made her way to the car service that the gallery had hired for her this weekend. Laurel had seen Jen leave about an hour earlier and she wasn’t even sure what her plans were. They hadn’t had another chance to connect following their suggestive little chat.

After she’d hoisted herself into the large black SUV, Laurel fished her phone out of her purse and waited impatiently for it to turn on. The car pulled away from the building and made its way through the quiet Chelsea streets. She crossed her legs and tapped her hands on the top of trouser-clad thighs. Laurel couldn’t stop her ankle from bobbing around as she let her shoes fall to the carpeted floor of the car.

Service finally returned to her cell and she saw a text had come in from Jen while she was busy wrapping things up with the collectors and dealers. She would have sighed with relief if she wasn’t dying with anticipation to see what she’d said.

Laurel held her thumb over the home button, willing herself not to be distracted by the rings on her own fingers - imagining someone else’s fingers and how she wanted to encircle them. She clicked quickly and the text appeared on her screen.

“I’m still waiting.”

Laurel stared at it as her mouth suddenly became dry with disbelief - or nerves. She wasn’t sure which. She hadn’t felt this way in a long time.

She tapped out a quick text back, and then stared out into the night as they whizzed through the city towards the Upper East Side.

“Meet me in the lobby at The Mark.”

It was so late, Laurel honestly wouldn’t blame her if she decided not to show up.

Moments later she stepped once again into the optical illusion of her boutique hotel’s first floor. She almost didn’t see Jennifer at first, her black and white chiffon dress camouflaged against the lacquered stripes across the floor. But as she turned towards the front entrance, to Laurel she seemed to glow.

She stood there, gazing at her for a moment in wonder, before striding confidently in Jen’s direction.

“You got here fast,” Laurel said without restraint.

Jennifer looked at her briefly, her face unreadable. “Oh well you know, I was in the neighborhood..” She quipped and waved her wrist jokingly.

Laurel smiled and tilted her head towards the elevators. “Would you like to come up?”

Jen smiled first with her eyes and then nodded.

Laurel pushed the button and it lit up. When the door opened she caught Jen’s hand in hers and led her into the elevator. As they rode up in silence, Laurel laced her fingers through Jen’s and they held each other comfortably, like they’d done a hundred times before.

When they reached the twelfth floor, Laurel led her down the low-lit hallway and swiped her keycard before pushing her back against the door, allowing herself to watch Jen as she followed her into the room.

A new batch of fresh-cut flowers awaited them on the glass table in the living area and the scent reminded her of when she’d first smelled Jen earlier that evening. Laurel discarded her shoes and her bag at the door, her bare feet padding softly across the hardwood floor.

“Make yourself at home,” Laurel said lightly. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m good, thanks.” Jen hovered in the entryway.

Laurel made her way to the couch and stretched her legs out on one of two dark purple ottomans. She hadn’t realized how tired she was from the sheer build-up of the event. Stretching her arms over her head, she then raked her fingers through her hair in a self-comforting motion.

Jen’s heels clicked delicately across the floor as she came to stand next to the seating area. She placed her small sparkling clutch on the side table by a lamp.

“You know, I really did mean it earlier when I said you smelled good,” Laurel said smoothly.

“Is this real?” Jen asked as she sat on the other ottoman across from Laurel.

Laurel looked at her with sober, level eyes. “It feels real.”

Jen swallowed and nodded, smiling at her through closed lips.

Laurel leaned forward and touched her knee gently. “Hey, it’s ok. If you don’t want to–”

But before she could get the words out, Jennifer took her hand and pulled it closer.

“I like to do things that make me nervous,” she said as her fingers stroked Laurel’s palm.

Laurel smiled warmly. “Do I make you nervous?”

Jen laughed. “I guess you do.”

Laurel licked her lips as she considered all of this new information. “Jen, I promise I don’t bite.”

A conspiratorial look entered Jen’s face. “Unless I want you to?” she asked innocently and Laurel couldn’t help smirking at that.

Jen’s fingers still played with her hand, and though it felt so good she would probably be satisfied to do only that all night, Laurel sat up and scooted to the edge of the couch as she moved her hand from Jen’s lap to her gorgeous bare shoulder. She caressed her pliable arm and found her hip with the other hand. Soft fabric covered skin there, but she could feel all of her beautiful angles through it.

Tracing her hand up Laurel’s creamy skin, Jen let her fingers dance across the metal of her bracelet before they continued up to trace the feathery outline of the ruffles along her sleeve. Her hand moved in a pattern - concealed by the flowy edge, then out from under the fabric, and back beneath the petals, and so on - hypnotizing Laurel. She leaned into Jen’s hand instinctually.

Jen looked down at her tenderly, as Laurel placed a silent kiss on her slender shoulder, then touched her there again with velvety lips, and worked her way over and down her arm kissing her a third time. The wetness of her lips made an audible sound on her warm skin now and Laurel looked up to gauge the effect she was having.

Her hand slid down to Laurel’s wrist slowly, grasping her there ever so gently as her eyes closed.

Laurel raised herself a little and pulled Jen towards her, whispering a question as her mouth brushed against her ear. “Have you ever done this before?”

Jen shivered slightly and managed to say with a shaky voice, “Plenty of times…with you…sort of…”

Jen’s smile against her cheek made Laurel’s stomach do somersaults. She kissed her face now, her lips making their way over to Jen’s, and soon their lips were on each other - soft and firm all at the same time. Laurel took the lead and let her tongue explore between Jen’s impossibly sweet lips. She felt a hand in her hair and tipped her head back to feel Jen’s fingers more fully as they skimmed her jawline.

Before Laurel lost herself too much in the feel of her hand on her neck, she pulled Jen into her lap on the couch. She looked in amazement at this goddess of a woman in her hotel suite, the glowing light framing her face as voluminous waves fell perfectly around her. She sat on top of her comfortably, and she was right, it did feel somehow like they’d done this before.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” Laurel ran her hands down both of Jen’s arms and looked at her adoringly. “How long I’ve wanted you,” she added pointedly.

Jen licked her lips and leaned down to take Laurel’s lips with her own, kissing her more fully this time. Her hand getting lost in her fawn-like hair.

The feeling of Jen touching her like that made Laurel give in to her hunger. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and rolled over on top of her unhurriedly. Her insides tingled as she felt Jen’s body beneath hers. Laurel leaned into her and moved along her legs, kissing her feverishly. Knowing she couldn’t get much father in these tight pants, she made herself slow down and leaned back offering her hand to Jen, who looked just as beautiful as ever with slightly smudged makeup and her hair mussed. She stepped back and pulled Jen up with her, leading her to the bedroom.

Part of her still couldn’t believe this was really happening. When she saw Jen there next to the bed, she had the feeling that even though this wasn’t her bedroom, she wanted to make it theirs, even if it was just for one night. As she started to unwrap Jen from her dress, she took her time, appreciating the view so much more than she ever had time to on camera.

“You’re so beautiful,” Laurel whispered. She reached out to caress the delicate skin across her chest, her bare breasts now exposed and alert. She could see how much Jen appreciated hearing this from her, almost like she hadn’t ever believed it was real, when it always was.

She undid her own pants with relief and let them fall to the floor, kicking them out of the way. Then Jen began to unbutton her shirt slowly, so slow it pained Laurel. Her tan skin stood out against the milky fabric, as she worked the nearly invisible buttons out of their hiding places. She pulled the silky shirt away from her body and Laurel slipped her arms through, so she stood before Jennifer in only her tan t-shirt bra and cotton underwear.

Laurel bit her lip, looking down at herself quickly. “I really should have planned better, huh?”

Jen scrunched up her eyes and the two women laughed lightly.

“You could honestly be wearing a paper bag and you’d still be sexy,” Jen said, her hands moving around to unclasp Laurel’s bra. “You have nothing to worry about in that department.”

As she stood unclothed in front of the majestic image of her beloved, Laurel couldn’t resist comparing herself - her stretch marks and her rounder mid-section, her wrinkles and the bits that gravity didn’t help.

“Really?” Laurel tried not to squeeze her face in disgust. “I mean I for sure could stand to lose a few pounds…”

Jen held her by both hips. “Laurel, trust me. Would I have traveled across the country by myself to sleep with someone I didn’t find attractive? I like you the way you are.”

“When you put it that way, I suppose you’re right. You could have anyone you choose.”

Jen looked at her sideways, registering that she really wasn’t getting it. “When I saw you earlier tonight, talking about your artwork, that’s when you were most sexy to me. The way your eyes light up. The fact that you’re an artist, creating these beautiful things with your hands,” She moved her hands to clasp both of Laurel’s in hers and examined them in a profound way. “It makes me want to be near you, to be in the orbit of that brilliance.” Jen touched her hands to her lips, kissing her fingers softly, one by one.

When she finally brought them down and their eyes met again, it was like Laurel believed her for the first time. She could stop reminding herself that this was real, because she was completely in the moment.

Laurel peeled Jen’s dress the rest of the way off and guided her back onto the soft bed. She propped one of her long legs up in her hand and gently removed her tall heel, repeating this action with her other leg. Then she climbed her way up along Jen’s body, touching all the places she never really had enough time to enjoy before.

“So you really did come tonight so you could get me in bed?” She asked conspiratorially.

Jen laid her head back and laughed. Her laugh was delicious like honey. “I like to get what I want, but I haven’t come yet tonight,” she said.

Laurel smiled, letting out a small laugh, as she leaned down and pulled the strap of Jen’s black satin underwear to her center, licking her hip with a languid, flat tongue. She had definitely come better prepared for this. Her mouth was hot on Jen’s skin and she wanted to consume her urgently, but she forced herself to go slowly.

Her tongue worked circles around her groin and upper thigh, as her hands roamed across her slender body, eventually finding her firm breasts. Laurel circled her erect nipples as she let her tongue slide underneath the fabric in front of her, still blocking her way. She felt tiny, wiry curls and heard Jen’s breathing begin to hasten.

When Jen’s hips started to lift towards her, Laurel reached down to drag the underwear off her hips and down her legs. Her hand snaked back up her legs and parted her thighs easily. Jen watched her like she was her favorite show. She kissed each inner thigh reverently, and when Laurel’s lips finally touched their ultimate destination, both women sighed with the same breath they didn’t know they’d been holding in for twenty years.

As her tongue slid up and down her soft folds, Laurel breathed heavily against Jen, causing her to shiver in ecstasy. She wanted to taste every inch of her. Laurel’s hands steadied her hips as Jen pushed into her face. Jen flexed her head back into the sheets and tried agonizingly to keep her body from bucking. She wanted more; she wanted it all.

After what seemed like an eternity, Laurel let her fingers glide across the supple skin, slick with desire. She relished the feeling on her fingertips before burying her hand inside, and causing Jen to convulse in pleasure. She was so wet and open that Laurel’s hand slipped in and out with barely any effort. After establishing a solid rhythm, she lowered her mouth to her clit once again, circling it with her tongue as she pumped her fingers inside her.

Jen moaned, pressing up into her. Laurel was determined to stay with her as long as she could ride this wave, but it wasn’t long before Jen was screaming prayers and expletives over and over, and holding onto the back of Laurel’s hair.

When she was finished, Laurel came up to lie next to her. Facing Jen, she swept errant curls away from her cheeks and looked her over. Jen sighed with satisfaction, basking in the adoration. Laurel leaned in to kiss her forehead, running her fingers down the sides of Jen’s face and neck, skimming lightly over her chest and shoulders. She kissed her swollen lips with tenderness.

Jen spoke first, “That was even better than I thought it would be.”

Laurel was hesitant to break whatever trance Jen seemed to be in.

“You’re amazing,” Jen continued.

Laurel laced her fingers in Jen’s hand.

“Fuck, you might have just ruined me forever.”

Laurel smiled, knowing exactly what she meant. From now on she’d have to teach every man she slept with how to actually please a woman. But then her smile faded slightly, thinking of Jen with anyone else. She tried to push it out of her mind, because it was an impossible reality she couldn’t deal with right now.

Jennifer smiled shyly. “I want to make you feel like that, but...”

“Trust me,” Laurel said, bringing her hand up to kiss her knuckles. “You already know exactly what to do.

“And,” she continued as she guided Jen’s hand down into her underwear. “You don’t even need to touch me. Just looking at you makes me come.”

Laurel’s eyes rolled up into her head as she felt Jen’s hand on her slippery core. She cupped her hand, moving over herself, and her breath came out in jagged, needy rasps.

Jen sucked her own lip into her mouth. “Oh God…”

Laurel pulled her hand away and rolled onto her back, as Jen moved to straddle her hips. She watched the image of Jennifer above her as she surrendered both her arms above her head, giving herself over to this incredible woman.

Jennifer touched her instinctually, running her fingers all over the place, pressing firmly, but unpredictably. She didn’t even bother taking her underwear off, just pulled them to the side and she fit right in.

“Mmm, Jen–” Laurel moaned, not able to keep her eyes open. All of her senses were heightened in the dark. The lingering scent of Jen’s perfume, the taste of Jen still on her tongue, the sound of their breath growing hot and heavy again, and the feeling of Jen’s bare thighs against hers, her hand between her legs, her hair brushing against her cheek.

As Jen leaned down, her soft breasts made contact with Laurel’s full chest, and this made her moan again. Something about having Jen’s body pressed up against hers drove Laurel wild. Their hips grazed each other. Jen rocked into her, curling her fingers just right.

She was clearly enjoying herself as Laurel throbbed below her. When Jen began licking and sucking on her ear is when she really lost it, and her orgasm vibrated through her from the inside out.

Gasping for air, Laurel cried out Jen’s name. She felt like she was going to climb up onto her as her hips thrust into her once more, fully devouring Jen’s hand. Not letting go easily, Jennifer quivered her fingers once more, but just barely. Laurel was so enlarged that she hardly had any room to move. As she lay there moaning and convulsing, Laurel had the vague awareness of Jen moving over her body, kissing every inch of her exposed skin.

When she began to return to herself, Laurel pulled Jen close, tucking her under her arm. Jen rested her cheek against Laurel’s chest and drew tiny shapes between her breasts, not light enough to tickle and not too firm to cause discomfort. They laid like that for a long time as their bodies started to unwind.

“I think I just found my new favorite thing,” Jen said.

Laurel lifted her eyes in question.

“It’s possible you’re even sexier like this, than when you talk about your art.” Jen wrapped her long leg around Laurel’s leg closest to her. “You’re like..” She looked up at the ceiling and then back at Laurel. “You’re like your own form of art… embodied.”

“God, you’re amazing.” Laurel sighed contentedly, pulling the ivory sheet up around them.

Jen snuggled further into her embrace. “This is nothing like on tv,” she mused as her eyes relaxed shut.

While they drifted off into sleep, Laurel thought about how nice it felt inside this fantasy bubble together, but that when the light of day revealed some of the hard truths about their reality, the reckoning would be difficult and possibly painful.