Epilogue #2
But Bridget had been right. Nothing was permanent if we didn’t want it to be. Maybe one day I’d move somewhere else, see what else life could be. When that day came, Bridget would come with me. And until that day came, I was stable, I was in a good job, and I was together with the love of my life.
Plus, well, we were both really into the whole… you know, long day at work, Bridget was waiting for me when I got back… I wasn’t thinking about that right now.
“California was really nice,” I said. “Our friends were great, and we enjoyed meeting their friends too, seeing their community. Going out to the little bars and hipster burger joints they like in the area. Trips to San Francisco, taking pictures in front of the Golden Gate Bridge like tacky tourists.”
“So, big fan,” he said, voice loaded.
“Pretty big. I don’t know.” I looked at Bridget, and she shrugged, picking up on the conversation.
“It’s not like we wouldn’t go there,” she said. “Although Grandpa’s not kidding about the rent! My god. It’s a good thing one of Gina’s girlfriends works in medicine.”
“But we’re also not rushing towards anything,” I said. “We’re taking our time. I’m happy here too.”
He nodded, looking at where he scraped his shoe on the brick porch. “Just as long as you’re back for the holidays. I’d hate to be the only gay couple here. Don’t know what’d happen without Bridget liking Sam and Mom wanting Bridget to be happy.”
The door opened, Christmas wreath bouncing on the front when it did, and Sam stepped out looking like he was ready for an Everest expedition. “Ooh, we’re talking about me?” he said.
“Yeah,” Bridget said, “to talk about how likeable and influential I am.”
“Okay, fair though,” Sam said. “Well, I’d say this was a better Christmas than the last one, but I am too cold. C’mon, babe, let’s get to the car and put the heat on full blast until I’m not a little popsicle anymore.”
Kevin gave me a loaded smile as he stepped away with a hand on Sam’s back. “See you for New Year’s?”
“I’ll be here. See you, Kev. Stay warm, Sam.”
Bridget sidled up next to me, watching as Sam fumbled with Kevin to the car, muttering about the cold and slipping on snow and ice the whole way, and she laughed softly, her breath curling up in soft wisps as she pressed into my side.
“I’d come back for the holidays here,” she said.
“I mean, I’m better suited for them than Sam is, at least.”
“I do have to come back for the holidays if nothing else,” I said. “In the end, nobody makes holiday tacos like Mom does.”
“Ah, yeah…” She held up the little gift-paper bag of Christmas cookies we’d had pushed into our hands on the way out. “Or these cookies! Big fan of the cookies. Let’s get back and dig in.”
“I could go for a plush chair in a quiet room, a big cup of peppermint tea, and a cookie.”
She smiled sweetly. “I’m so pent-up from not getting to masturbate this morning that I feel like my pussy is going to explode, so I’ll go do, like, a nice festive live show for all the people who want some company on Christmas.”
“Oh, well, aren’t you saintly?”
She brushed her hair back. “Saint Bridget, patron saint of pussy. I’ll take it.”
The door swung open again and Mom stepped out with a soft smile. “You two are still hanging out on the front step?” she said. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing—” Bridget said.
“Sacramento—” I pointed over my shoulder to where Kevin’s and Sam’s car was leaving. “Just talking again about Sacramento.”
“And how much colder it is here,” Bridget laughed nervously.
“Much more homemade Christmas cookies here, too,” I said.
“I’m not very good at making cookies, turns out,” Bridget said.
“Well, if it’s too cold, don’t stand there freezing,” Mom said, buying the awkward topic change.
She stepped out to give Bridget a hug and then one for me too—still a little stilted and awkward, but we’d been learning how to do it over the last year.
“Try to come over before the New Year too. I love you both and I’ll see you again soon. ”
Once we got into the car and started it up, heat blasting out from the vents, Bridget let out a breath. “Close one,” she said. “Don’t want to lose my tentative good standing with your mom by talking too much about pussy.”
I smiled at her, just looking at her for a second—at big, beautiful blue eyes that sparkled just for me—and I reached across the center console to put a hand on her thigh. “You can’t help what you like,” I said, and she softened into the seat with a low murmur.
“Oh, god, be careful. I’m already so turned on.”
“That doesn’t sound like a problem,” I said, tracing my fingers along her inner thigh. “I hear you’re very pent-up… you poor thing. Do you want some help with that?”
“Oh my god.” She pressed back against the headrest. “I mean, yes. As it so happens, I do kinda want some help with that.”
“It’ll have to be quick, but…”
“Trust me that it will be.”
“Mm.” I leaned across the center and kissed her, lips finding hers in a soft, tender kiss that deepened quickly, savoring the moans she made into my mouth as I sucked lightly on her lower lip, and I pushed my hand down her front, into her underwear, and found her already getting ready for me, her clit throbbing.
“Oh, god, that,” she whispered against me when I started rubbing two fingers up and down her clit. “Keep doing that. Oh my god.”
“You’re beautiful, Bridget.”
“Fuck, I’m so spoiled,” she laughed breathlessly, and I kissed her again, deep and passionate, going harder as I picked up the pace with my hand in her pants, and I could feel her tightening for an orgasm before long—she really must have been pent-up, because it was only a few minutes before I felt her buck her hips up against me with a desperate moan into my lips, her muscles tightening as she came on my hand.
“Better?” I said, pulling my hand back out, and she looked dazedly and blissfully at me.
“Much… much better. For now. Should be just enough to tide me over to get home.”
“I would recommend you not to drive for a few minutes.”
She laughed dizzily. “Yeah… take a picture of me?”
“A picture?”
“Mm. Just to post it up and be like, just got out of a Christmas party and my girlfriend got me off in the car. I bet they’ll like that. I also want them to be a little jealous of us.”
It was a little odd that I thought that was hot, but I guess it meant we really were destined for each other. “Strike a cute pose, then,” I said, taking my phone. “Cute and a little slutty.”
“Isn’t that my default state?”
Maybe it was. I suppose that was my type. Surprising to me as much as it was to anyone.
She pulled herself together while I posted the picture on her page, along with a promise of a sexy Christmas live show soon, and the drive back went quickly—still a little too long, because I was getting antsy wanting more of her while we drove, and I was getting horny too by the time we were back at the apartment.
Once we’d gotten inside, changing out of our outerwear and cleaning up felt like it took forever, and I was all too eager to throw my coat over the back of the chair and pin Bridget up to the counter to kiss her.
Judging by the way she grabbed my ass firmly in both hands when I did, so was she.
“Okay,” she said, unbuttoning her pants and dropping them unceremoniously to the floor. “I’m going to go get changed into something slutty for this show. Do you want to get your tea and cookie and go to the bedroom?”
“No, I’ll… I’ll join you in the studio. I want to watch.”
She bit her lip. “Tea and cookies for both of us in the studio, then.”
I felt hot all through my body by the time Bridget had done her makeup and we were in the studio—Bridget’s bedroom, converted back to a full-time recording studio while we shared a bedroom.
I sat on the loveseat behind the camera while Bridget took her spot at the desk, and I found myself reclining more as she started the stream and gave her sexy-cute greetings and gushed about Christmas, cute and innocent things while she was making seductive poses in her tiny little Santa outfit.
Thinking of all the people out there who were going to masturbate to her, wanting her, and I was the one who got to fuck her whenever I wanted.
I sipped my tea slowly, and it didn’t do anything about the arousal, so I gave in—unbuttoned my shirt, reached inside my bra and started playing with one nipple. Bridget looked up past the camera at me, heat flaring in her eyes, and I gave her the nod signal that she could say it.
“My girlfriend is watching me from behind the camera,” she said, “so if you see me looking over this way, it’s because there’s a sexy woman sitting on the couch playing with her nipples right now.
Maybe if we jump up to twenty dollars in donations then she’ll take her pants off?
She’s not on the camera, but I want her to do it, so pitch in for my sake, okay? ”
I took my phone and pulled up her stream from there—a lot of viewers already, and they weren’t the chattiest, since I assumed most of them only had one free hand at most anyway, but a few of them were telling me to take my pants off. And a few donations were coming in.
I generally stayed out of her shows, but they had heard my voice before, and there was something incredibly erotic about the taboo of it, so I spoke up and said, “I’ll take everything off at thirty. Mostly because I like the way Peachy looks at me.”
Donations came in. I was helping charity. I guess there were two saintly figures in here.