Back Talk, page 19
Hilton tried not to snicker as she overheard this conversation.
She slipped into the shower and wondered as the warm water ran down her body if Veronica’s plan was really going to work.
Her clothes arrived seconds after she got out of the shower.
Veronica insisted she should fix Hilton’s hair. “I think we should tie it back in a ribbon so you or preferably Anne can pull it out and your lovely locks can come cascading down. It’s so romantic.”
Hilton felt like a Barbie Doll with Veronica writing the script.
When she finally got in her car, she immediately pulled the ribbon out and vigorously wiped off the lip gloss. It took her thirty minutes to get from downtown to Anne’s eastside house. There was some huge accident and she’d been forced to hit the side streets instead of using the expressway. She still remembered the night she’d gone to her house, the night Nat and Emily had gotten in the catfight in the front yard. She was thinking that was when the whole thing started. That was the day she’d started to fall in love.
The one-story bungalow was quainter than she remembered.
The house was the color of beach sand and had a light green shingled roof and trim that matched. The porch had dark green wicker chairs and a matching coffee table. It looked like it could be in Sunset magazine.
Anne’s Chevy Avalanche was parked in the drive. It was too large to fit in the tiny garage of the house. Hilton parked her car, took three deep breaths, grabbed the flowers and prepared to meet her fate. She knocked on the door. It seemed an eternity before Anne answered. Hilton could tell she’d been crying. It was at that 173
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moment the last chink in her defenses crumbled to the ground.
She handed Anne the roses. “I’m so sorry.”
“They’re beautiful. Come in.” She led Hilton back to the kitchen. She was dressed in blue jeans and a gray fleece pullover with a white T-shirt underneath. It was the first time Hilton had ever seen her without dress clothes on. She looked smaller and suddenly fragile. Hilton wanted to scoop her up and kiss away all the hurt she had caused. She was still thinking about this while Anne located a vase. Hilton watched as Anne’s shoulders started to shake and quiver. She was crying. Hilton came to her.
“What’s wrong?”
“They’re yellow.”
“I thought you liked yellow.”
“They stand for friendship,” Anne said. She wiped her tears with her sleeve.
“Oh.” She was going to kill Veronica. For all her fucking planning she screwed up the most important part. “Veronica made me get them, after she made me take a shower and have my entire outfit martinized—whatever the hell that is, and then she put a ribbon in my hair and lip gloss on. It was all perfectly disgusting.”
When Anne started to laugh, Hilton held her. “I thought you didn’t want me.”
“No, I was scared.” Anne pulled away and looked at her. “I’m so in love with you that it frightens me.”
Hilton kissed her, softly at first and then passionately as Anne responded in kind. She ran her hands down Anne’s sides and across her hips, then pulled her in closer. Anne wrapped one of her legs around Hilton’s and moaned softly.
“Do you want to go somewhere more comfortable?” Hilton asked. The last time she was at the house she’d seen most of it but not Anne’s bedroom. She was certain it would be as beautifully decorated as the rest of the house.
“Please.” Anne took her hand and led her to the bedroom.
They stood by the bed. It was a four-poster bed in cherry wood with huge pillows and a yellow down comforter. Hilton was now 174
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certain yellow was Anne’s favorite color. Hilton unbuttoned her shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Then she took Anne’s hand and placed it on her breast, watching her face the entire time. Anne traced the outline of Hilton’s nipple. Her hand was soft and warm.
Hilton guided Anne’s hand down her stomach and in between her legs, expertly slipping under her waistband and boxers. Anne made a little noise, like the kind Shannon did when she was extremely happy about something, and didn’t appear to need any further coaching.
She pulled Hilton close and slipped her fingers inside. Hilton shuddered for a moment at her touch. She took off Anne’s pullover and then her T-shirt. She ran one hand under Anne’s black bra and undid the back of it with the other. As she unbuttoned Anne’s jeans and slid them down her slim hips, Anne removed her hand from between Hilton’s legs and did the same. Anne took her panties off and pulled at Hilton’s boxers until they both stood naked.
“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment,”
Hilton said.
“You have,” Anne teased.
Hilton smiled. Anne was back to her normal, sassy self. Hilton gently pushed her back onto the bed. “I have.” She eased down on top of Anne and kissed her ardently. Their bodies fit together almost perfectly. Hilton kissed her shoulders and then bit one.
“That’s for being a smart ass.”
Anne laughed. “You like me that way.”
“I do,” Hilton said, looking up at her as she cupped Anne’s breast. Goose bumps rose on Anne’s skin. Hilton raised her eyebrows. “Ticklish, are we?”
“Maybe just a little,” Anne conceded.
Hilton kissed her stomach and then opened her legs, slowly running her tongue between the wetness that waited for her. Anne rose up to meet her and moaned softly. When Hilton thought she was almost there, she put her fingers inside her and moved up to kiss Anne’s face. “Is this all right?”
“Oh, my God.”
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Hilton took that as a yes. She felt Anne reach for her and they moved together. Hilton felt Anne come in an explosive orgasm.
Hilton held her, feeling her body quiver. Making love had never felt like this before. Hilton smiled. They both opened their eyes at the same time.
“Wow,” Anne said.
“Double wow. I love you. You know that, right?” She gazed at her.
Anne held her tight. “Yes.”
“No regrets?” Hilton asked as she nestled between Anne’s breasts and listened to her heartbeat.
“Actually, I do have one.”
Mortified, Hilton looked up at her. “What?”
“That we didn’t do this sooner.”
“Oh, you’re in for it now.” She went to tickle Anne but Anne was faster. She flipped Hilton on her back, held her down for a moment and then stared at Hilton. Hilton knew that look. She’d seen it before. It was the realization that the object of your desire can be yours, wants to be yours, and that you can be the aggressor.
Anne kissed her passionately. “I was supposed to do this the other night.” She reached for Hilton’s nipple.
“Yep. It would have saved us a lot of time.”
Hilton felt Anne part her legs and kiss between, sticking her tongue inside with little teasing thrusts. Hilton moaned. After a while, Anne turned her on her stomach and took her from behind.
Hilton rocked against her and then reached back for Anne. Soon they were both making noises that Hilton wagered neither of them had made before. It was the moment before she came that Hilton knew she had found her one true love.
It was dark when Hilton awoke with Anne’s warm body beside her under the down comforter. She silently crept from the bed.
Looking out the bedroom window she could see that the day’s rain had left everything shiny. A street light illuminated the side yard of 176
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Anne’s house. She drew the cover over Anne’s bare shoulders.
Gazing at her for a moment before leaving the room, she felt the most intense series of emotions—love and longing wrapped up with complete devotion, and it was then that she had another epiphany, like the one last summer when she realized she was growing up. Suddenly, she wanted to scoop Anne up in her arms and scream, “I love you!” She knew this was lunacy and would probably scare the living daylights out of her lover. She wished there was some way she could prove her love, to show her the mol-ecules of her heart filled with love. Hilton took a deep breath and told herself to get a grip.
They had made love all afternoon, something neither of them confessed to having ever done before. They talked, they laughed, they kissed, and they explored every inch of the other’s body and then finally fell asleep in each other’s arms as the soft rain danced on the rooftop.
And now, hours later, Hilton, wearing only a blouse, crept into the kitchen and was poking around in the fridge looking for food.
The pizza last night was the only nourishment she’d had. She was starving. The fridge was rather bare, containing mostly condiments and every kind of pickle imaginable, including a jar of Wither’s Pickles. Hilton chuckled softly to herself. Anne never mentioned that she liked pickles. She guessed there were a lot of things they’d discover about each other as time went on. The mischievous nature of the universe never ceased to amaze her—a pickle heiress and her pickle-loving girlfriend.
Soft footsteps came padding down the hall. Hilton smiled warmly at Anne. “You don’t have any food except condiments and pickles, lots of pickles.”
“I meant to go shopping but I was kind of depressed.”
“Most people eat when they’re depressed. Why were you depressed?”
“Because I thought I’d lost the love of my life.”
“No, the love of your life was being a complete idiot and should have been more clear about how she was feeling.”
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Anne laughed. “Okay, if you say so, but I really think it was my fault for being a coward.”
Hilton closed the fridge, having come up empty-handed.
They’d have to order out. “How about Chinese food?”
“Sounds fabulous.” Anne was sitting on a barstool at the kitchen island. She was staring at her. “I can’t believe you’re my girlfriend.”
Hilton put her hand out across the counter. Anne took it and guided her around to her. She pulled her in close. Anne caressed Hilton’s thighs. Hilton could have melted right there. She was going to have to learn to control herself or they’d be spending the rest of their lives in bed. Smiling, she thought that might not be such a bad thing, but she did want more. “I’d like to be your wife … someday.”
“Is this about vaginal sobriety?”
“Yes.” Hilton stared at her.
Anne kissed her lightly and held her. “Then consider this an I do.”
Hilton kissed her forehead. “Food, we need food, then we’ll start the honeymoon.”
Anne pouted. She pulled a tattered menu from the kitchen drawer. Hilton quickly perused the offerings and called in the order. “We have forty minutes.”
“We can do a lot in forty minutes,” Anne said, leading her to the couch in the living room.
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Chapter Sixteen
On Sunday afternoon, Liz called and persuaded them to come for dinner. She had teased Hilton that they had to come out of the bedroom sooner or later. She was making vegetable ProvenVal with couscous and onion tarts. Veronica and Melissa were also coming for dinner. Hilton was nervous. It was easy to spend the weekend in each other’s arms but going out in public was to begin their life together with all of the unknown challenges.
Anne must have sensed this because she took Hilton’s hand and said, “I could spend the rest of my life here but we can’t, and we will deal with things—including my mother.”
Hilton took a deep breath.
“It will be fine,” Anne said. She got up from the bed. “Come have a shower with me.”
“Is that like an interim activity?”
“Precisely.”
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Later that evening Hilton and Anne were in the living room picking out music. Once the CD player was loaded, Hilton wrapped her arms around Anne’s waist and they danced slow to the music.
“This was the most incredible weekend of my life,” Anne said.
“Me too.” Hilton kissed her passionately.
There was a tussle in the hallway and someone said, “Let go of me.”
“Nat, don’t go in there,” Jessie said.
Hilton pulled away from Anne and glanced up. She felt her stomach drop. She knew she had to tell Nat but she didn’t want it to be today.
Nat was standing in the doorway staring at her. “So you’re banging the boss. Is that what this is all about?”
“Nat, I tried to warn you,” Jessie said, tossing her hands in the air for emphasis.
Hilton took Anne’s hand and faced her ex-girlfriend. Several phrases came to mind, most of them far from polite, so Hilton opted for the stripped-bare truth. “Yes, Anne and I are in love.”
“What about us?” Nat demanded. She placed her hands on her hips.
Hilton looked at her for a moment. She had hip-hugger jeans on, a tight green shirt and a motorcycle jacket. She was the same girl Hilton had always loved but it was different now. Hilton felt detached. It was as if Nat was a rowboat that had once been moored to her dock and she’d just untied it, watching the rope float on top of the water as the boat drifted listlessly away.
“Nat, there hasn’t been a relationship since you went to live with Sherry.”
“You guys fucking remodel the house. It’s like I was never here,” Nat ranted.
“Why are you here?”
“It’s our fucking anniversary,” Nat said. She threw a burgundy jewelry box at Hilton, who just barely managed to catch it before it nailed her in the face.
“What the hell? Nat, let’s go talk on the porch, okay?” Hilton glanced at Anne.
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“Go talk. You two don’t need an audience,” Anne said. “I’ll go help Liz chop vegetables.”
“Forget the vegetables, let’s have a stiff drink,” Jessie suggested.
Nat and Hilton sat on the porch. Hilton was still holding the small box. “Nat, what are you really doing here?” It was true, it was their anniversary but Hilton could count on one hand the number of times they had observed it. She knew Nat had something else on her mind. Hilton took her hand.
“I’m not sure I want it to be over,” Nat said.
“Are you done with Sherry?”
“Not exactly, but Sherry wants this commitment thing. She’s not like you.”
Hilton watched as Nat looked down at their intertwined hands.
“Good for her.”
“I don’t know if I can do it.”
“You want me back so you can resume your old ways. Nat, how much fresh meat do you need? How many positions can you do it in? It’s all finite. Maybe it’s time to explore commitment. It might do you some good.” Hilton looked at the box. “What’s in it?”
“It’s a ring.”
“I’m not the one you should be giving it to.”
“So that’s it then? We’re done? You’re in love with the boss lady.”
Hilton nodded.
“What happened to Emily? I thought you two were hanging out.” Nat was standing now, holding the jewelry box in her clenched fist.
Hilton knew Nat wasn’t going to take this lying down. She needed to make her realize that they had separate lives now. “We only slept together that one weekend.”
“So the whole time I’ve been away you’ve been falling in love with her,” Nat said, pointing to the living room. Tears were welling up in Nat’s eyes.
“Something like that.”
“That’s just fucking great. You’ve all been lying to me,” Nat shouted hoarsely.
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“Nat, come here.”
“No, don’t touch me. Liars!” She raced down the driveway toward her little white car and screeched away.
Hilton went back inside. “That didn’t go well.”
Liz and Anne looked at her sympathetically. Veronica and Melissa came in the kitchen door. They were laughing and joking about something. They stopped when they saw everyone’s somber faces.
“What’s wrong?” Veronica asked. She took Jessie’s hand.
“It’s Hilton’s anniversary,” Jessie said.
“But you two just got together,” Melissa said.
“No, Nat and Hilton’s anniversary. Nat just came by and found out about them. It wasn’t pretty,” Jessie explained.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Veronica said. “Do you have a vase?” She pulled a bouquet of red and white dahlias from the paper bag she was holding. “I thought we needed to some color in this gray season.”
Liz pulled a vase from the cabinet above the fridge. “How about this?”
“Perfect,” Veronica said. She set to arranging the flowers.
Anne gave Hilton a hug. “Are you all right?”
“It’s not me I’m worried about. I’ve been long over it.”
Veronica said, “Well, the way I see it, Nat is a slut who gets what she deserves.”
“Veronica!” Anne reprimanded.
“No, she’s right. Nat has played around on me for years. It’s her turn to get dumped,” Hilton said. She jammed her hands in her pockets and wondered how anger and pity could possibly be intertwined.
After dinner that night in the cottage, Anne lay wrapped in Hilton’s arms. “I never want to spend a single night without you,”
she said.
“That’s part of the I do,” Hilton replied, running her fingers through Anne’s hair.
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“I do, I do, and I do.”
Hilton looked down at her. “You know, we’re going to have to be careful.” Ever since Nat made an appearance, she couldn’t stop concocting horrible scenarios that would force the two of them apart—Anne’s parents, her job, second thoughts about being gay.
