But Ava only smiles, and once again Jean has the sense of being utterly transparent. ‘Because,’ Ava says, ‘there are far more interesting things than nice. Now let’s go back to mine – if we’re quick we can get the tube straight through to East Ham.’
‘I don’t mind ordering us an Uber.’
But Ava shakes her head. And though she keeps a straight face, there’s a wicked gleam in her eye. ‘This way’s faster.’
Jean’s pulse quickens. Who is she to argue with such logic? She follows Ava down into the station, tapping her card against the barrier and passing through. It’s been years since Jean was forced to rely on the tube – she’d fallen in love with the plush comfort of DDH’s private car service upon making senior associate, and taken them as her due by the time she’d ascended to legal director.
But the underground isn’t as bad as she’d expected. While the air still reeks of metal, grease, and unsavoury heat, the warmth is welcome. Mercifully, the tsunami of rush hour has ebbed to a steady trickle. Ava whisks her into a near empty carriage, the nearest commuter half a coach away. And while Jean hates the thought of being crushed up against a stranger, she doesn’t mind the press of Ava’s leg against her own. Though her face is a mask of composure, Ava’s knee jigs up and down, restless.
It’s this rare display of nerves that gives Jean the courage to speak. She leans in close to Ava, though there’s nobody to overhear above the train’s dull roar. It is essential that Jean make this one thing clear: ‘I’m not a lesbian. Or bisexual. Or whatever else you’re calling it these days.’
Ava nods, placid. ‘Okay.’
The lack of resistance catches Jean off guard. She’d expected to be presented with evidence to the contrary and have Ava, the all-knowing lesbian, pass judgement. To be met with a smirk at the very least. ‘What do you mean,okay?’
‘Exactly that. It’s not my place to define your sexuality.’
‘Oh.’
A frown wrinkles Ava’s brow. ‘You seem disappointed. Do you… want me to tell you that you’re a le—’
‘No!’ Jean clears her throat, looking around. But there’s nobody except her and Ava; their reflections bent towards one another in the window’s dark mirror. ‘No. I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page. That you understand I’m straight. I don’t have relationships with women. And I can’t offer you anything beyond a casual, discreet… arrangement.’
Ava’s lips brush against Jean’s ear, sending a shiver through her. ‘You mean you want to be fuck buddies? Cool. You could have just led with that.’
‘So that… arrangement…’ Ava’s lips twitch, and Jean would find it maddening if she weren’t currently anticipating how good they’ll feel clamped around her nipple. ‘It works for you, too?’
Ava nods. ‘It might not be success the way you’d define it, but I have big work goals this year. And that doesn’t leave room for dating. But a girl still has needs.’
Curiosity snags Jean’s attention – perhaps Ava is not without ambition after all. But asking about these plans, cherished above romance, would fly in the face ofcasualanddiscreet. And it would be madness for Jean to break her own rules so soon after making them. So, instead she says: ‘Deal.’ Holds out a hand for Ava to shake.
A current jolts through her fingertips as their palms brush together. And ever so subtly, Ava’s thumb caresses her knuckles. In that moment Jean knows beyond a shadow of doubt that she won’t be the one to end their arrangement.
Anticipation pulses between her thighs as Ava says this is their stop; guides Jean up and out into the streets. The night air can’t touch Jean as she strides towards that now familiar high-rise. Ava marches along beside her, urgency feeding Jean’s own. Fortunately, the boys have found somewhere warmer to spend their Wednesday night – they make it into the lift without interruption. Jean doesn’t even mind the piss scent this time, knowing it’s a small price to pay for the pleasures that await her.
Chapter Five
They’re barely through the door before Ava’s lips crash against hers and they’re peeling off each other’s coats. Jean knots her fingers in Ava’s curls, pulling her closer. And they stumble towards the bedroom, bumping into the couch.
Then Ava’s pulling away, eyes bright with mischief. ‘Wait right here,’ she says.
Ordinarily Jean would bristle at such a command, but the words flip something low in her belly. She remains in place as Ava retreats into the bedroom, heart hammering at the unmistakable opening of a plastic crate.
Sure enough, when Ava reappears, she’s fitted in the harness. And Jean marvels at her body, lean and yet round in all the right places. She goes to kick off her shoes, pull off her dress, but Ava shakes her head.
‘Oh no. I want you exactly like this.’ Ava circles behind Jean, the dildo pressing into her back while Ava licks at her ear, nuzzles into her neck. ‘You put this outfit on just for me, didn’t you? You were thinking of me when you got dressed up; how it would feel when I stripped you.’
‘Yes.’ Just like in the bathroom, Jean can’t get over it, how vulnerable that one word makes her.
Ava hums in pleasure at the admission, vibrations passing from her mouth to Jean’s throat. But she doesn’t push any further, always mindful of Jean’s limits. ‘Good. Then I should show you some appreciation.’
Jean loses all coherent thought as Ava reaches into the scoop of her neckline and catches her nipple, rolling and teasing until Jean slackens against her.
Then Ava’s kissing the hollow of her throat, whispering: ‘More?’
Jean can only nod. She bends, pliant, as Ava guides her hands to rest on the back of the couch. She’d never let Henry fuck her like this. Nor any of the unremarkable men that followed. But – while Ava would certainly stop if she asked – Jean’s powerless to resist the temptation of giving herself over to it. Her want sharpens to an ache as Ava rucks the dress up around her thighs; tugs Jean’s tights and underwear down just far enough.
Then Ava’s hand slips between her legs, testing. But Jean’s more than ready for her, thighs slippery. Her breath hitches as Ava’s fingers skate over her sex. Jean had wondered if it was a fluke the first time, the intensity of her body’s response to Ava. Or maybe the product of pent-up frustration after years of unsatisfying one-night stands. Dr Byrne had said it could take time for her desire to resurface, and Jean had been too ashamed to admit never feeling the passion she described for any man – before or after. But here and now, bent over Ava’s couch, every atom of Jean longing for her, she’s forced to admit there’s an irresistible magnetism between them.
