Chapter Text
It’s the kind of place she wouldn’t usually be caught dead in - cocktails with dreadful names, too many deliberately clashing patterns, bar stools uncomfortable enough to make any chiropractor rub their hands in anticipation. The lighting is good though, she will acknowledge that. If there’s one thing the young and beautiful do care about, it’s good lighting. She owes Keeley though, so she doesn’t mind too much. In the harshest tone she’d ever heard from her friend, she had told her she was worried about her, that she hadn’t seen her smile reach her eyes in six months, and that if she even tried turning down another invitation she’d stage an intervention. So, here she is, six months and three days after Ted left, in a pretentious bar on a Friday night reminding herself that she’s here because it’s time to show up for Keeley.
She’s made small talk with some of Keeley’s new clients, kept a smile on her face while Barbara fumbled her way through telling her how much she likes the dress she’s wearing, and now she’s at the bar awaiting a cocktail that she desperately hopes tastes better than the ridiculous name would suggest. She thinks about how, if Ted were here, he would somehow manage to come up with even sillier names for the drinks than this bar already has. Then, as always when she thinks about him, her chest tightens in a fresh reminder of why it’s been so hard to propel herself through her days without him.
The drink is surprisingly good, so she takes another sip and moves along to the end of the bar, needing a minute to just observe, to breathe, before she feels like she has to power up and make an effort to mingle some more. She spots Keeley across the room, dressed in silver and pink and chatting animatedly to someone, and she smiles as she watches her. Sweet, kind, persistent Keeley who hasn’t given up on her for one single minute of these miserable six months. The day after Ted left, she showed up with food, nestled in beside her on the sofa and stayed for the weekend, giving her the silent support she so badly needed. It took a month of turning down dinner, brunch, drinks before she broke down and told her how completely fucking sad she was. She told her what she had offered to try to make him stay, admitted how embarrassed she was that he hadn’t considered it for even a second, and finally she had taken a deep breath and admitted in a whisper that she had fallen in love with him but had realised it too late.
To her surprise, and to Keeley’s credit, she never once suggested a fling might help her get over him, or tried to say that her running into the man from Amsterdam at the airport was some sort of twisted fucking serendipity. She also didn’t argue when she told her she’d messaged him to say it was good to see him, that their night in Amsterdam had been fun, and, with an almost brutal finality, that she wished him nothing but the best for the future. While her heart still aches at the thought of Ted and what could have been, she can’t bring herself to even think about dating. God though, if she could just manage to separate her heart from the rest of her body, she really could do with getting laid.
She finishes her drink and signals for another with a nod of thanks, sticking with the same to avoid the horror of having to consider yet another badly named effort. She can’t help the snort that escapes her when she hears someone far braver than her order a knob cheese martini.
“Seriously, who the fuck named these drinks?” She watches as the guy behind the bar smirks and turns away to start making the drink. The woman who ordered it gestures to the stool next to her. “Mind if I join?”
“Please do. I’m invested now, I really need to see how that drink order ends.” She smiles as the woman takes the seat.
“I’m Cat, by the way.”
Holy shit, she’s gorgeous, is Rebecca’s first thought. And oh, I want her mouth on me, is her second. She’s younger than her, but not inappropriately (she’s sure as hell not going there again). A short, dark brown choppy bob, perfect high cheekbones, light blue eyes…and dimples. Fucking dimples, Jesus. She doesn’t miss the way the woman’s tongue darts out just briefly, running across her top lip as she scans Rebecca’s face.
“Rebecca.” She reaches for her drink again, her throat suddenly dry under the gaze of a sexy woman. Yep, she really needs to get laid.
“Oh, I know who you are.” Cat nods a thank you as her drink arrives and smiles at her. “Sorry, that sounded slightly sinister. I’ve known Keeley for a while, she talks about you a lot.”
“Ah, that makes sense. I wonder if I was going to have to pay yet another person to delete their Google alerts on me.” She takes the cocktail stick out of her glass and drags the olive into her mouth slowly, her eyes on Cat the whole time. Jesus, she’s flirting and she silently begs the universe to show her she hasn’t got this horribly fucking wrong.
“So I can keep the Google alerts then?” The smirk she gets in return tells her that no, she’s not reading this wrong at all.
“I think a woman brave enough to order a knob cheese martini can probably do whatever the fuck she wants.”
“Good to know.” Cat takes a sip of her drink and grimaces. “Christ, that’s disgusting. Worse than disgusting, actually. Absolutely fucking vile.”
“I’d love to be surprised yet I’m not in the slightest.” She laughs at the look on her face and signals for the bartender. “I think my friend here might want to order something else.”
As Cat pushes an unruly lock of hair behind her ear and starts to look over the menu, she takes the opportunity to watch her. She wonders how soft her pale skin would feel under her fingers, how she would taste if she were to run her tongue slowly up the curve of her neck, what sounds she would make if she nibbled gently on her earlobe. She wonders how Cat’s tongue would feel on her too, how her nipple might feel in her mouth, her fingers curled deep inside her. She closes her eyes for the briefest of seconds but the images intensify, which wasn’t quite her aim.
“Fuck it, you know what, I’ll just take what she’s having please.” Cat nods at the bartender and sets the menu back down. “I don’t have the stamina to try anything else on that list.”
“The knob cheese has put you off for life?” She reaches for the menu, deliberately brushing Cat’s hand on her way to it, watching as she bites her lip, confirming that whatever this is, she’s not the only one feeling it.
“Just one of the many, many things that put me off men a long time ago, so I should have known.” Cat grins and leans back slightly. Rebecca’s eyes flick down to her shoulders, her bare arms, the tight sleeveless top in baby blue, her good sized tits filling it out. When she pulls her gaze back up, she knows she’s been caught in her blatant admiration but the heat that rushes to her face is from cautious anticipation not embarrassment. There’s a beat of silence before Cat speaks again. “If this is totally out of line, I’ll gladly move to the other end of the bar and pretend we never exchanged a single word, but I really think you might be one of the hottest women I’ve ever seen in real life.”
“If that’s what you consider out of line, please carry on. I could use the confidence boost.” She feels warm under Cat’s stare and she fights the urge to look away, to shrug off the compliment. Instead she takes a breath and smiles. “Thank you, by the way, that’s…I should probably tell you that when you first sat down my first thought was holy shit, she’s gorgeous. So I think that makes us even.”
“I think it does…and thank you.” She crosses her legs and watches Cat’s gaze drop to her thigh before she looks back up and meets her eyes. “I’d really love to shoot you.”
“I’m going to assume that’s not a death threat, but I, uh…I mean, I might consider letting you tie me up but I think gunplay might be a step too far.” She’s not quite sure where that came from but it’s the truth nonetheless. She can absolutely picture herself tied her to the bed while Cat goes to town on her until she fucking crumbles. “If gunplay is even a thing, I mean, I suppose everything is a thing for someone or other, isn’t it? Although, I’m not sure-”
“Oh my God. Shoot, as in take your photo. I’m a photographer. Shit, I’m so sorry. Just as you thought you were safe from another Google alerts maniac too.” Cat cuts in and blushes before taking a sip of her drink. “The tying up thing is, uh, good to know though.”
“You’re a photographer?” She tries to focus on that because this is insane. She’s sitting at a bar with a woman she met barely fifteen minutes ago and she’s already picturing them naked together. “What sort of work do you do?”
“Editorial, fashion, portrait work here and there. I’m actually based in Milan now, but I’ve been back and forth to London a lot recently doing some work with Keeley on a couple of campaigns she’s running. You have…” Cat reaches forward and cups her face so gently that she thinks she stops breathing. “Perfect bone structure, just…genuinely fucking beautiful. A side profile to die for. I’m serious, Rebecca, this isn’t a pick up line.”
“It’s not?” She’s being messed with, she knows it, and she’s happy to play along. “That’s a shame.”
“Maybe I should have said it’s not just a pick up line.” She watches as Cat’s gaze drops to her chest, and to her legs again. “I’d love to see you in a trouser suit, with maybe just a bra or a corset, and yeah…those long legs, those tits. Fuck, those would be some gorgeous shots.”
“I’ve had pictures taken before, I mean, obviously, you know who I am, but I’ve always sort of just wanted to get them over with, if I’m honest.” She thinks about Ted again, sitting beside her in the locker room, a football exchanged for a box of shortbread, the dark mystery of little girls and the Football Financial Quarterly. “I’ve certainly never enjoyed the experience.”
“You’d enjoy it with me, I can promise you that.” She swallows hard as Cat’s voice lowers and her thumb runs across her cheekbone. “I could give you my number, I’m back in London in a couple of weeks and I’d make time for you.”
She says nothing, just unlocks her phone and slides it over, watching silently as Cat adds her number and hands it back. Finding the winking emoji with the little tongue (Keeley would laugh, she knows it, she’s forever teasing her about her emoji ineptitude), she sends a message.
“There, now you have mine.” She puts her phone back into her clutch and stands up. “I’m just going to pop to the loo.”
As she walks away, she knows Cat’s eyes are on her and she’s glad she chose the dress she has on - dark green, sculpted to her body, mid-thigh, and tailored, if she’s honest, to showcase her arse to its finest. She makes it to the bathroom, locks the door and lets out a long, deep, slightly shaky breath. It’s far from the first time she’s been drawn to a woman, even though people do seem to assume she’s painfully, unequivocally straight, but it has been a long time. Pre-Rupert, pre-AFC Richmond, pre-Ted, back when she was the Rebecca who didn’t worry so much about what other people thought of her, who let herself feel whatever she was feeling and allowed herself to be with whoever the hell she found herself attracted to.
Stepping out of the stall and washing her hands, she thinks about the summer she finished university, the six weeks she spent in France with blonde, freckled, beautiful Camille, doing nothing but swimming, sunbathing, drinking, and fucking. Her thoughts shift back to Cat and as she checks her hair in the mirror before heading back to the bar, she thinks that a good fuck with a gorgeous, sexy woman could be just what she needs to take her mind off Ted. For the night, at least.
She’s surprised to see Cat as she walks around the corner. She’s leaning against the wall, smiling as she approaches and she feels a fluttering low in her abdomen, along with the slow but sure beginnings of a delicious ache between her legs.
“So, I’m heading back to Milan on Sunday.” Cat pushes away from the wall and runs a hand down Rebecca’s arm, moving them gently away from the bathrooms, into a more dimly lit corner. “But until then I’ve got a really great hotel suite.”
“I do appreciate a really great hotel suite.” Closing the distance even further, she can feel her whole body humming with need for this woman in front of her. She suddenly realises she doesn’t want to leave any room for confusion. If there’s a chance Cat might think this is anything more than it is, she needs to put an end to it now, as much of a slap in the face as it would be to go home alone tonight. “The thing is though, I’ve had a strange few months, a shitty few months, really. There’s someone I can’t be with but who I’m horribly bloody in love with, and I don’t think those feelings are going away any time soon, so I want to be honest and tell you I’m not looking for anything more than-”
She lets out a slight gasp as Cat’s thumb comes to rest on her bottom lip, and she smiles at her.
“I live in Milan, Rebecca, I’m in London for a few days every couple of months, if that. I know what this is.” She nods, feeling instantly that Cat is on exactly the same page as she is. “So, as I was saying…I’ve got a really great hotel suite.”
“Right…” Cat’s thumb moves from her mouth, running down her neck and coming to rest on her collarbone, stroking gently. “I got that part.”
“It’s a really great hotel suite, and it’s a two minute walk from here. It also has one of the biggest beds I’ve ever seen…” They’re so close now she can feel Cat’s breath on her cheek, warm and inviting. “And I would really like to fuck you in it.”
She kisses her then because what the fuck else is a person meant to do under such circumstances. She feels like she’s crawling out of her skin, her body so desperate to be touched she can barely think. She pushes her back against the wall with a soft thud, their bodies pressed together, her tongue probing urgently, finding what she needs when Cat opens up to her and the kiss gets deeper and somehow hotter. She hears a soft moan, the sound vibrating against her lips, and her hands move almost of their own accord to tangle in Cat’s dark hair.
She feels one hand move up her back and into her hair, pulling slightly, while another pushes between them to cup her tit, her thumb seeking her nipple through the fabric of her dress. She’s aching, actually fucking throbbing, but a tiny ounce of sense manages to break through the fog and she pulls back.
“We need to…” She can barely catch her breath as she looks at Cat, her dark hair messy and her pupils wide, mascara smudged. She sways slightly and they end up pushed back, her leg nudged between Cat’s, and she has to resist fully fucking humping her right here against the wall. “Can we get out of here?”
“Do you need to…” She feels a hand between them again, Cat’s thumb finding its target once more, a slow smile spreading as her nipple peaks under her touch. “Keeley. Do you need to let her know you’re leaving?”
“Oh shit, yeah, I should…” She pulls Cat’s hand away and grins. “I can’t fucking think while you’re doing that. Let me just text her. One second.”
It’s the fastest, most frantic text she’s ever tried to compose. Cat’s hands are back on her, one stroking her hip, the other back on her tit, her thumb doing God’s fucking work again. She thinks, she fucking hopes, she’s sent something to Keeley that reads close enough to ‘thanks for the lovely evening, bit of a headache so I’ve headed home, I’ll call you tomorrow’ to make sense. If it’s a typo-filled disaster, she’ll blame the cocktails.
*
“You weren’t lying about this suite.” As they walk in she kicks off her heels and heads over to the window. “Wow, this is quite the view.”
“The only thing that would make that view better is you naked in front of it.” She feels Cat behind her, feels her breath on the back of her neck, and her hand in between her shoulder blades. “Can I unzip you?”
She must manage to breathe out a yes because she feels Cat dragging the zip down almost painfully slowly until she can push the straps of her dress off her shoulders. She plants a hand on the window to steady herself and wriggles out of the dress until it drops to the carpet and pools around her feet.
“Tell me what you want.” Cat’s teeth scrape across her shoulder, just hard enough that she shudders and feels her legs start to wobble.
“I want your mouth on me, and your fingers on me, in me, and I-” The clasp of her bra springs free and she drops it to the carpet.
“Turn around, Rebecca.” She turns and the look in Cat’s eyes is wild, ravenous with want. “Can I tell you what I want?”
“Show me.” She reaches for Cat’s top and drags it up and over her head. “Just…show me.”