Jean has known power in her life – at a young age she learned that, with the right combination of words, she could engineer all manner of outcomes. At university her razor-sharp wit and the grit of determination allowed her to pull ahead, graduate into a job with a top firm. Then she went further still, climbing over every obstacle and rival to reach the very top floor of DDH. A single step from managing partner, absolute control so close she can taste it.
But Jean’s never known power quite like this. Never revelled in the pulse jumping at the base of her lover’s throat, the eyes so dark with desire that pupil is indistinguishable from iris. Every shiver and gasp running through Ava can be traced back to the tips of her fingers. In turn Ava’s urgency, her need, transfers itself to Jean.
‘More,’ Ava breathes. ‘I need more.’
Jean slips another digit inside, Ava’s walls tight around her. She is rewarded with a low noise of pleasure – and Jean can actually feel the vibrations of it in her fingers. Fresh slickness coats her own thighs, but there’s no room in Jean’s mind for anything save Ava’s lust.
Then Ava covers Jean’s hand with her own, pressing it firm against her sex. With every stroke the heel of Jean’s hand rubs against her clit. And this pressure must be exactly what Ava’s craving, because she clenches tight around Jean’s fingers, shuddering hard. And pride warms Jean as the orgasm ripples through her. Just as Ava had done, Jean keeps going until her trembling stills. And Ava pushes Jean’s hand away.
The air is cool on her fingers, pruned a little and coated in Ava’s wetness. Jean wipes the excess off on her dress, which is surely beyond salvaging. Better to order another than no longer be able to meet her dry cleaner’s eyes.
‘Congratulations, Jean,’ Ava says when she’s recovered herself. ‘You’ve passed Introduction to Fingering with flying colours. A natural.’
‘Ah… thank you,’ Jean says. Even now she knows there are people who’d say what she and Ava have done to one another is anything but natural. Yet Jean can’t bring herself to regret touching Ava, nor being touched by her. And what Jean gets up to in the privacy of her fuck buddy’s home is nobody else’s concern.
‘There’s a sink over there, if you want.’
Grateful, Jean clambers to her feet and pads through to the kitchenette. She washes her hands thoroughly. And as she dries Ava takes her place at the sink. She’s watching Jean strangely, amusement quirking her lips.
‘What?’
Ava looks her up and down as she rinses. ‘You’re so small without your heels on. It’s adorable.’
For a moment Jean can only stare, incredulous. She’s been called plenty of things over the years.Imposing, is how the junior associates describe her.Code Redwhen she’s out of earshot – and Jean rather likes it, the panic she inspires in her underlings. Butadorablehas never entered into it. ‘I amnotsmall. You’re just abnormally tall.’
Ava smirks as she pours a glass of water. ‘Both of those things can be true at once.’
‘I’m five foot four. That’s average height.’
‘Maybe on tiptoe.’
‘Fuck you,’ Jean says, wishing not for the first time that she could stretch her height as easily as the truth. It’s been a long time since anyone caught her in a lie, or had the courage to call her out on one.
‘You already did.’ Ava waggles her eyebrows. ‘But I’m game for round two if you are?’
Jean hesitates. She’d been planning on covering up with her coat and catching an Uber home. If Jean stays, she’ll need to be up at four to get home in time to shower before work. Sleeping over isn’t exactly casual. But then, Ava’s not suggesting sleep. And fucking is, by definition, what fuck buddies do.
‘Alright,’ she says. And right away Ava’s smile grows. ‘But you’re fucking me in bed this time – I want an orgasm and decent back support.’
Chapter Six
After that it’s straightforward enough with Ava. They both get what they want from the arrangement: sexual satisfaction, no strings attached. In the interests of casualness, Jean only ever texts to ask whether she might drop by that night in the afternoons, as if the thought came to her spontaneously.
But there is a pattern to their meetings, one of her own design: never more than three nights a week, and never two nights consecutively. Jean clings on to these unspoken rules – she will not let this strange new passion burn through everything she has fought so hard to build, nor let it distract her from claiming the firm.
Jean needs boundaries. Because Ava has woken appetites that Jean never suspected herself of possessing. She’d never understood the fuss about sex as a teenager; had accepted it as the price of a relationship in her twenties.A cold fish, Jean’s first real boyfriend at Oxford had branded her. And privately she’d suspected Ian was right. But now Jean can’t stop thinking about it. Ava’s deft fingers, that wicked tongue, the silicone shaft that fills her so completely.
Of course she would never enter their appointments in any diary, analogue or digital, but her days fall into the category ofAvaorNo Ava. The Ava days pass in a frenzy of anticipation, Jean counting down the hours until her next orgasm. And on the post-Ava days, Jean is newly aware of her body, the previously unguessed at capacity for pleasure in every muscle and sinew.
Flashes of their nights together come to her at the most awkward moments. When Grant mentions his latest lover, a tantalising detail proffered to pull Jean through her push-ups, she can’t help but recall how – mere hours before – she’d been on her hands and knees in entirely different circumstances. When she catches notes of cedar in a client’s aftershave, Jean pictures the unguarded ecstasy that flickers across Ava’s face as she climaxes.
The most inconvenient memories surface in her dealings with the Henshall negotiations. Jean has inadvertently created a Pavlovian response within herself. Whenever she has a meeting with George Henshall, she arranges another with Ava for that night – a reward of sorts. A way of venting her frustrations that has zero professional repercussions.
There is nothing gentle about those nights. Jean rides Ava like fury, tugging on her curls, yanking her close enough to kiss. In retaliation Ava catches Jean’s skin between her teeth, biting hard enough to bruise – always below the neckline, never anywhere another person will see, but a branding, nonetheless. And it sends her over the edge every time.
Jean fingers the latest love bite as George Henshall rants, under the guise of adjusting her blazer, wakening a delicious ache beneath her clavicle. Intercedes as the buyer, Katherine, bristles. With all it had taken to get them into the same room together, sitting at this table, Jean cannot let this meeting go south. Katherine already cancelled once, all but sending George into apoplectic fit as he got the message loud and clear: Katherine Parker-Kato’s time is more precious than his, and Parkato International has more urgent concerns than taking over one little microchip company.
And now, as Katherine glances at her phone tight-lipped and confers with her counsel, Jean has the distinct impression she’s getting ready to walk again.
