Make Room for Love

Chapter 27

27

Mira closed the curtains in the living room, undressed, and pulled the slip on over her head, shivering as the fabric tumbled down over her body. The silk was as cool and soft as she’d imagined, clinging to her in all the right ways, caressing her and teasing her. Very unlike Isabel’s sturdy hands, but it felt like Isabel touching her, all the same. The slip came halfway down her thighs, but the slit up the side was deep. Perfect.

Isabel returned—wearing her strap, with her jeans pulled back on and unzipped, which really had no right to be as hot as it was. She looked at Mira like she wanted to devour her. Mira giggled and twirled in place, sparks of anticipation rushing over her skin.

Isabel came behind her and pulled her close. She nipped at the side of Mira’s neck and ran her hands hungrily over Mira’s body over the slip. Her strap dug into Mira’s back, thick and solid, sending a warm jolt to Mira’s core. “How do you want me?” Isabel asked, her breath tickling Mira’s ear.

Mira tried to think, which was difficult. Isabel’s thumbs slowly rolling over her nipples over the silk made it impossible. She moaned, buckling in Isabel’s arms. Isabel said, “On the couch? On the armchair? You want it over the table again?”

“Couch,” Mira gasped out.

They made their way over. After a moment, with Mira still standing, Isabel said, “Oh. That’s what you want, huh?”

She sat on the couch and made a come-hither motion with her fingers. A dizzying wave of lust overcame Mira, and she dropped to her knees. Isabel handed her a pillow—considerate as always—and Mira put it underneath her, wrapped a hand around the satisfying heft of Isabel’s strap, and took it in her mouth. The weight of it against her tongue made her pussy throb, the hot, heavy ache burning brighter. “Oh, sweetheart,” Isabel said, her breaths ragged, already so gorgeously worked up. “Look at you.”

Mira loved this—loved making eye contact with Isabel as she got the strap warm and wet, loved the way Isabel watched in disbelief and ecstasy, loved the way she stroked Mira’s hair and shoulders like she couldn’t get enough. Loved the way it teased both of them, and the way her own pussy clenched, waiting to be filled up. Loved being cherished and a little bit filthy at the same time.

She relaxed her throat and carefully took Isabel’s strap all the way down until she was kissing the harness—quivering, overwhelmed, so full , savoring the way Isabel’s breaths stuttered as though Mira’s mouth were right up against her nerve endings. Mira ran her hands over Isabel’s thighs through her jeans—such nice thighs—and Isabel let out a moan. “Baby, come up here and let me touch you,” she said, gasping.

Mira eased off the strap, caught her breath, and stood up shakily. She took out the lube they stashed in the end table—very practical—and got Isabel ready. Then she pulled the slip up over her hips and swung a leg over to straddle Isabel, resting her thighs against Isabel’s unzipped jeans and belt buckle. Isabel’s eyes widened. This was going to be good.

Isabel liked to call Mira femme, and it was a thrill to be femme in moments like this: wrapping her manicured fingers around Isabel’s strap, being pink and frilly against Isabel’s flannel and denim and roughness. It was a refuge from the world telling her that she was too feminine in all the wrong ways or not feminine enough. With Isabel, she could let herself blossom.

Isabel couldn’t come just from Mira riding her, but that didn’t mean Mira couldn’t make it good for them both. She grabbed Isabel’s strap and rubbed the head of it against her clit, the pulse of pleasure making her gasp and her thighs tense. With her other hand, she pulled the straps of the slip off her shoulders until it fell down over her breasts. Isabel groaned. Took Mira’s breasts in her hand gently at first, and then roughly when Mira arched her back for more.

Teasing Isabel—and herself—was fun, but it wasn’t enough. She clutched Isabel’s shoulder, angled the dildo toward herself, and let it ease her open. She was feverish as she lowered herself onto it, thighs trembling, Isabel plucking at her nipples and driving her crazy. Settling on the harness with Isabel deep inside her was sheer relief.

But she needed more. She lifted the lacy hem of the slip over the triangle of hair above her pussy, and started moving, swirling her hips at just the right angle, letting the stretch and friction and pressure light her up inside. Giving Isabel a show.

Isabel was panting, her eyes dazed. “Oh, god, Mira.” Her gaze darted down to where Mira was fucking herself, then back up, like she didn’t know where to look. “I can’t believe…” For all of Isabel’s confidence, she acted like every time they had sex was the most astonishing thing that had ever happened to her. Mira laughed breathily. Her thighs were already burning. But this wasn’t going to take long for her.

“So gorgeous,” Isabel said, her voice reverent. “You’re incredible.” Her hand wandered down over Mira’s body, hot and voracious through the silk draped over her stomach, rough over her bare thigh. And then hard and insistent on her clit, jolting Mira so intensely she squealed, nearly losing her balance. “Careful,” Isabel said. Mira let out a laugh, and they settled into a new rhythm with Isabel rubbing her clit, their bodies effortlessly attuned to each other.

Mira wasn’t in a hurry, but she was close. Isabel’s other hand was splayed over Mira’s ribcage, her thumb teasing Mira’s nipple, her hips thrusting up to give Mira a little more. “Love watching you ride me,” Isabel murmured. “Love how good it feels for you. Love these sounds you make.” Mira squirmed, pleasantly self-conscious, and Isabel clutched her tighter. “So fucking gorgeous with my strap in you. You’re all mine?—”

Mira came, just like that, crying out as she convulsed and gripped Isabel’s shoulder, riding her harder—and Isabel tensed underneath her, too, with a throaty groan. That was new. It was so unexpected and hot that Mira couldn’t help but grind down hard, giving herself one last intense aftershock, and giving one to Isabel too.

She collapsed on top of Isabel, panting. The strap was warm and wet against her stomach, making a mess of this expensive slip. Isabel ran a big, comforting hand over Mira’s hair, her heartbeat thumping fast against Mira’s ear as she caught her breath.

You’re all mine. Mira hadn’t thought she liked that kind of thing. It had been disorientingly hot, and so right in the moment, when she’d been bouncing and giggling and enjoying herself as Isabel’s precious femme. She wanted to hear it again in bed. She didn’t have to overthink this.

“I’m not sure I ever said thank you,” Mira said, still aglow. “Thank you so much. I love it.” A surge of raw emotion washed over her. Sex with Isabel had a way of doing that. “I’ll wear it under my dresses. That way, I’ll always have a way to have you with me. Touching me and holding me all day.”

Isabel paused for a second too long. “You’re very welcome, sweetheart.”

Mira replayed what she’d said. She’d become less shy about using her words in bed; Isabel had been so patient with her over the last month, coaxing her desires out of her on her own terms. In the afterglow just now, she’d felt so good and uninhibited that the words had spilled out. But what she’d said hadn’t been dirty talk. It had been something else.

The thing was, she’d meant it. She wanted a reminder that Isabel cared for her and believed in her. She wanted to feel precious and brave and a little bit sexy as she took on the world outside this apartment.

And it was not the kind of thing you said to someone you were trying to take things slow with, trying things out with, just going on dates with between hanging out and kissing and fucking in the apartment you happened to share.

Mira propped herself up, her limbs still wobbly. She gave Isabel a peck on the cheek. There were questions looming on the horizon, far away. But she was well-fucked and tired from a good night, and those questions could wait. “I’m going to wash up. And then we should go to bed.”

“You’re making me less jaded about union politics,” Isabel said, pushing their grocery cart down the aisle. “I might run for an elected position one of these days.” They reached the rice section, and Isabel stopped. “I think we’re running low. What kind do you want?”

Mira pointed to one of the big bags on the bottom shelf, and Isabel picked it up and put it in their cart as though it were a feather pillow. Of course Mira could do it herself, in the same way that Mira could open her own doors, in the same way that Isabel could pack her own lunches, but she wasn’t going to complain about Isabel making her life a little easier. Or the view of Isabel bending over. “When do you think that’ll be?”

“Five years from now, maybe. Don’t hold me to that when the time comes.”

Five years from now. Maybe last night was still lingering in her mind, but Mira’s train of thought got stuck on the implications, even if Isabel hadn’t meant they’d be together then. Lesbians were supposedly good at being friends with their exes. There was no reason why they shouldn’t be in touch after five years. “Why do you want to wait until then?”

“I need to put in the time first. Get to know more people. It’s how these things work.”

“That makes sense. And they’ll vote for you if they know what’s good for them.”

Isabel shrugged skeptically. Mira smiled. Isabel had plenty of complaints, most of them well-founded, some more severe than others, in the way that only truly committed lifers did. “You know,” Mira said, “I can’t even imagine what it’s like, knowing you’ll have the same career for the rest of your life if you want it. It’s amazing that you knew that’s what you wanted when you were twenty.”

“Or I was a dumb kid who got lucky. Didn’t you know you wanted to become an academic at that age?”

Mira looked over the pasta section. “Well, I don’t have the job security part,” she said absentmindedly, picking up a few boxes. “If I’m fortunate enough to get an academic job after grad school, I’ll almost certainly have to move. You’re presumably staying in the city until you retire.”

There it was again. They were silent as they continued down another aisle, and Mira was needled by the same uncertainty she’d felt last night. The same vague sense that there were decisions in her future—far away, but not infinitely far.

“You know, I don’t need to stay in New York,” Isabel said. “If I need to move, I can transfer to another local. They need electricians everywhere.”

Mira’s heart beat faster. They glanced at each other, and then turned back to the rows of cleaning products.

Maybe Isabel was thinking the same thing: This conversation was heading into out-of-bounds territory. Isabel liked her—that was so obvious and unchanging that Mira didn’t have to question how much, exactly. And she liked Isabel, but she wasn’t ready to figure out how much, either.

Maybe Isabel hadn’t intended to go there. But now the implications were hanging between them. And it was entirely beside the point, but…Mira had never been with anyone who would have considered moving across the country for her. It simply wasn’t the kind of situation she had to face, in the same way that she’d never had to buy a house or pick out a private jet.

Isabel hadn’t offered that. Time to come to her senses. “That’s true. It’d be nice if I could say they needed classicists everywhere.”

Isabel smiled. “Okay, let’s say there’s a labor shortage of experts in lyric poetry, and you can live anywhere you want.”

“Don’t get me hot and bothered like this. We’re at the grocery store.”

Isabel snorted. “You think you’d want to stay here?”

“I think so.” It was the truth. For all Mira had been through, she’d grown into herself in this city, and it was difficult to imagine living anywhere else. “If only it were that easy. Would you really ever leave New York? Your family is here.”

They were getting into even messier territory now. This wasn’t a conversation to be had in the grocery store. She should have changed the subject.

But part of her wanted to know.

Isabel shrugged too casually. “I don’t know. I might want a change of scenery. It’d be hard. But I could visit. And once Grace gets married, I guess she won’t need me.” Isabel’s hair was in a braid, but she tried to run her hand through it anyway and stopped short. “Maybe I could actually afford to buy a house somewhere else. And it’d be cheaper to raise— To do a lot of things.”

Mira took a breath, trying to clear her head. She didn’t believe for one second that Isabel would leave New York—the city she’d called home all her life, the city whose skyscrapers and subway stations she worked on with pride—simply for a change of scenery. They stopped in front of the toilet bowl cleaners, as though that were the big decision to make.

Of course Isabel wanted commitment. Maybe not from Mira, but…from someone, eventually. She’d been in a relationship for six years before this. Isabel never talked about it, so Mira had barely thought about it until now. And, apparently, Isabel wanted kids.

Of course they weren’t going to date casually forever.

They were having a good run so far. But sooner or later, they’d part amicably as responsible adults, and then Mira would hear all about Isabel’s new life with her wife and kids. Isabel would be pushing a cart around a grocery store with someone else.

The idea was surprisingly painful. But that was reality. And Mira would always have these memories: the dates, the laughter, the astonishingly good sex, the cold winter nights where they’d kept each other warm. Isabel had raised the bar so high for her. Vivian would be proud.

Or…

No.She couldn’t think about it.

With Isabel, it was too easy to forget why Mira had needed guardrails in the first place. Things were good. Not just the dates and the sex and the hours they spent talking, but everything else, too—learning to share space, working through the few tiny road bumps they’d hit, even cleaning the bathroom and going to the laundromat. Mira would never admit it aloud, but this was exactly what she’d once dreamed of, in her less cynical days, when she’d imagined moving in with someone.

She’d dreamed of more, too. Building a life with someone she loved. Being a wife, a mother. Those longings had been locked up tight, squeezed into the smallest, most hidden places in her heart. But she couldn’t deny they were there, even if all her decisions might be easier if they weren’t.

The truth was that dreams could become nightmares in an instant. A strange anxiety set in: What if she wasn’t being anxious enough?

She blinked. And picked out a toilet bowl cleaner and put it in the cart. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Isabel said nothing. Maybe she was also relieved to move on. Mira said, “I thought about what we could do next weekend. Assuming I’m not too busy with my new area captain responsibilities. Can I take you to see a play?”

A different shadow fell over Isabel’s face. “I want to, but… Did I mention that next Friday is Chinese New Year’s Eve? I’ll be staying with my parents overnight.”

Isabel had not mentioned that. Probably on purpose. Her casualness was clearly false. “You’re going to see Grace?”

Isabel sighed. “I asked if we could talk on Saturday morning after we have dinner with our parents, and she said yes.”

“Oh, that’s great,” Mira said, but Isabel didn’t look relieved. “How are you feeling about it?”

“I don’t know.” Isabel was closing herself off, which made Mira nervous. “I’m going to apologize. I just don’t know if I can do it in a way where she’ll actually forgive me. I know it’s bigger than just her fiancé. Kevin.” She seemed reluctant to say his name. “Never mind. I can’t do anything about it until I see her. Anyway, we could do something on Saturday night or Sunday.”

Isabel wasn’t getting off the hook that easily. “Do you want to talk more about seeing your family?” If Isabel didn’t want to, Mira was at least going to make her say so.

“No.” Isabel still didn’t look at her. “Maybe later. Just not now.”

“Well, I’ll be here,” Mira said. Isabel could be so sweet and open, and it was easy to forget how much pain she was hiding until Mira ran up against the jagged boundaries of what she refused to talk about.

There was more Mira didn’t know about Isabel—and she realized, with unease, that she didn’t know how vast and deep those unknown parts were. “You’ll tell me what happens after you talk to her, right?”

“Of course.” Isabel’s mouth turned into a flat line.

“I’m proud of you,” Mira said. Isabel scoffed, as though Mira couldn’t possibly be serious. “I mean it.” Maybe someday, Isabel would let this particular wall down, but all Mira could do was wait.