Chapter 17
17
Yesterday Ginny woke up to Elsie straddling them. Today, they wake up as Elsie rolls over within the cocoon of their arms.
The two of them barely made it out of bed the day before. Only ate two meals—late breakfast and early dinner—went swimming at sunset, cleaned up and got dirty again in the giant bathtub. They’d fucked until they were exhausted before falling asleep, then fucked some more in the middle of the night. Ginny’s not sure the last time Elsie was out of arm’s reach.
Elsie yawns and stretches, and Ginny wants to climb inside of her. Wants to make a home out of her. They settle for leaning in for a kiss, but Elsie puts one hand on their chest and the other over her own mouth.
“Oh my gosh, no. Morning breath. Let me brush my teeth.”
“I don’t care,” Ginny says, but Elsie is already out of bed.
Then—“Oh, shit!”—she’s on the floor.
What? Ginny props themself up with one arm to see her better. “What’s happening right now?”
“There’s a boat. ”
Sure enough, a dinghy like the one that delivered Ginny and Elsie to their bungalow is puttering past. It could be the exact same one; it’s too far away for Ginny to be certain, but still close enough that the passengers might be able to tell they’re naked. It’s probably people going to or coming from one of the other bungalows.
Elsie has started army-crawling across the transparent glass floor to the bathroom.
“God, I wish I was a fish under this bungalow right now,” Ginny says.
“Because you haven’t seen enough of my naked body?”
“Uh, never. ”
Elsie giggles.
“Brush your teeth,” Ginny says. “Then we’re gonna give those folks an enthusiastic welcome.”
“ Ginny, ” Elsie admonishes, but she doesn’t say no.
In fact, she says yes, a lot. Screams it, really.
After they give their neighbors a warm welcome and share breakfast in bed without getting dressed, Ginny traces her fingertips over Elsie’s skin. “So what’s on the docket for today?”
“Can’t it just be this?”
“Elsie, my tongue is tired. ”
“Okay, so no oral for the rest of the day.”
Ginny pokes her in the side, and Elsie squeals.
“No tickling!” She keeps giggling even after Ginny has stopped. “I don’t know what I want to do today.”
“What about when we go home?”
Elsie goes stiff in their arms. “Like… can we do oral when we go home?”
No. No, Ginny is not asking about that.
“No, like, we said we were going to talk about what you wanted to do in real life.” That was two nights ago by this point. They’d forgotten all about it yesterday, lost in too few clothes and too much sex. “What do you want when we go home? Like, with the store, I mean.”
Elsie doesn’t want to talk about what’s happening between them, and Ginny is doing whatever Elsie wants. So they pretend nothing is awkward, go back to tracing their fingers over her body.
“Or—it doesn’t have to be with the store,” they say. “Are you just at the store because it’s your parents’? You could do anything, you know?”
“You’re saying I should just quit my job when we go back?”
Maybe now would be a good time to mention Ginny already quit her own. But no, this is about Elsie.
“If that’s what you want.” Ginny shrugs. “I just mean—if you’re figuring out who you are separate from Derrick, what about separate from your family?”
“No, I like working at the store,” Elsie says. “I don’t want to be separate from my family. I just want them to actually listen to my ideas. You know we’ve had the same signage for more than two decades?”
Of course Ginny knows. The store has looked exactly the same for as long as they can remember.
“Not just we haven’t changed the design, but we haven’t even repainted the signs. They’re old. Even if we went with the exact same design, they could be upgraded. My dad acts like it’d be a waste of money.” Now that Elsie’s started, she’s on a roll. “I’m not saying we need a whole new brand or anything, just some upgrades to make the place look nice. Dad acts like we’ll always have enough customers, like we don’t need to even try.”
“The store’s doing okay, though, right?”
“I don’t want it to just do okay, ” Elsie says. “You know I got my dad to start putting aside money for upgrades when I graduated? Kind of begged him—a graduation and an engagement present both.” She rolls her eyes. “He’s never let me actually use it, but it’s there. There’s a budget.”
“So you just gotta convince him when we get back.”
“I don’t wanna think about going back,” Elsie whines.
Ginny’s with her. “Well, we have to get up at some point. It’s our last full day here and we haven’t finished the list.”
“Why didn’t we put sex on the list?”
They didn’t put sex on the list because when they made it, they’d never had anything but one childhood kiss.
Well, one childhood kiss and one rejection.
Ginny doesn’t want to think about that, either.
They get their phone off the nightstand to look at the list.
“Okay, the only for-sure things we have left are horseback riding and a massage.” They look over at Elsie, her blonde hair spread out on the pillow. They really should’ve put sex on the list. “Which do you want to do?”
Elsie sticks her bottom lip out. “I want to stay in bed all day.”
“We did that yesterday.”
“Yes, and? This vacation is supposed to be about what I want, and I want you.”
Ginny could’ve made a hundred guesses as to how this trip would go, and they never would’ve guessed this.
“Pick an activity,” they say, “and I’ll make you come again.”
“Horseback riding!” Elsie chooses with no hesitation, and climbs into Ginny’s lap.
They barely make it to the front desk on time, Elsie’s fingers still combing through her sex-mussed hair. As they load into a golf cart to be driven to the stables, a hotel staff member quietly informs Ginny they missed a button. They fix it with more grin than blush.
It’s hard not to touch Elsie, sitting together on the back of the golf cart. Not hold her hand—which they’re already doing—but touch her touch her—slide a hand between her legs, up her thigh to the warmest part of her. She’s probably still wet from this morning, from their escapades that made them late.
But they’re supposed to be focusing on an activity other than sex, so Ginny behaves themself. Anyway, they’re excited about horseback riding. Both they and Elsie went through a horse-girl phase as kids, passed the Misty of Chincoteague books back and forth between them until the paperback covers fell off.
The driveway to the stables is long, pasture lining both sides. At the edge of the fence stand two horses, one black and the other pinto, big blocks of brown and white hair. Elsie’s soft gasp reminds Ginny of her noises from earlier.
“It’s Black Beauty,” Elsie whispers, clutching Ginny’s arm.
It’s so goddamn cute Ginny feels sheepish about being such a horndog. Though swooning over Elsie’s adorableness isn’t much better.
Elsie only lets go of Ginny’s hand once she’s assigned a horse—an Appaloosa, mostly tan, with a white patch spotted with brown over its rear. She murmurs, “Hi, beautiful,” as she rubs the horse’s muzzle, and butterflies flutter through Ginny’s stomach.
“Wives, am I right?” the person beside them says.
Ginny blinks. They had barely noticed the other people in the stable for the ride: two couples—queer of course—one of whom has a kid, plus the guide.
“You’re looking at yours like I look at mine,” the person says, rubbing a hand over their shaved head. “I don’t even like horses, but I can’t say no to her.”
“Right,” Ginny says. Wives. “I can’t, either.”
That much is true.
Ginny focuses on their assigned horse instead of Elsie or the swooping in their stomach at the word wives. The horse is a deep-chestnut gelding with a blaze of white down his forehead. As far as distractions go, he’s a pretty good one, soft coat and softer muzzle, the tallest horse in the barn.
Ginny hasn’t been on a horse since five-dollar pony rides at the state fair when they were a kid. Mounting is a little terrifying—their momentum almost takes them all the way over the other side—but once they’re up and going, it’s not so bad. The pace is slow, and the scenery is gorgeous.
Elsie rides in front of Ginny, glancing over her shoulder almost constantly to beam at them. It’s so easy to ignore real life, to ignore that they have no idea what they’re going to do when they have to go home. Most of the time it doesn’t even feel like they’re ignoring anything. It all feels so normal. Sex seems to be the only thing that’s changed about their relationship. If they’d never slept together, Elsie would still smile at Ginny as they rode, checking in to make sure they were having fun. Yesterday, after their tongues were on each other’s assholes, there’d been teasing and giggling and Elsie’s ankle against Ginny’s while they took a nap. It was the same as always. They’re just them, now with sex.
And god, the sex. Ginny honestly isn’t thinking about Minnesota or their job situation or the future because they’re sex-addled. Can’t think of anything but Elsie—her skin, her mouth, her cunt. If what Elsie wants is to fuck and not talk about life back home, Ginny is happy to oblige.
After a slow trail ride through the tropical forest, they end up on a white sand beach where they can spread out instead of walking single file.
“Does everyone feel comfortable going into a trot?” the guide asks.
The group agrees. As the guide offers safety tips, Elsie pulls her horse up beside Ginny’s.
“What do you say, Gin? Wanna race?”
“We’re going to trot, not gallop.”
“Sounds like someone’s scared of losing.”
When they dig their heels in to speed the horses up, Ginny doesn’t even try to beat Elsie. Bragging rights mean nothing when losing means they can watch Elsie bounce in the saddle. They’ve behaved themself the whole ride, but now all they can think about is how their horse doesn’t feel as good as Elsie between their thighs. They focus on the spots across the back of Elsie’s horse.
They manage to keep behaving themself right up until the end, when they’re putting their helmets away, Ginny and Elsie the only two in the barn. Then they push her against the wooden railing of an empty stall. Elsie’s giggling, so Ginny’s kiss lands on her teeth.
“You gonna take me for a roll in the hay, Mx. Holtz?”
“Gonna take you home.” Ginny’s hands have somehow found their way to Elsie’s chest. “To the bungalow,” they amend. “Want you to be loud again.”
“Let’s go.”
The golf cart ride back is excruciating.
When Ginny thinks about it, they can’t believe they’re allowed to do this. To hold Elsie’s hand. Look at her with so much unhidden desire.
But still, it also feels normal. Elsie’s always been their favorite person. She’s always made them laugh. Ginny would always rather spend time with her than anyone else. They’re just allowed to spend that time naked now.
Back at the bungalow, though, they don’t actually get naked immediately. They don’t even make it to the bed—Elsie’s back is up against the door as soon as they’re inside.
Ginny has never had this much sex. Dating queer women can often mean moving fast—a first date that was only supposed to be drinks but turns into dinner and a sleepover and breakfast the next morning. Queer sex is different, too—not that Ginny has experience with cishet sex, but it seems really focused on penetration. There’s so much more than that.
Of course, there’s also penetration, and after making out against the door until Elsie is squirming, when Ginny finally slides two fingers inside, Elsie comes immediately, clutching at their shoulders. Ginny loves how easily she comes for them, loves how easy they are for her, too—they’re still fully clothed, pants aren’t even unzipped, when they come against Elsie’s thigh.
That could be it, maybe it would be it if they were cishet, but Elsie bites at Ginny’s earlobe.
“Now take me to bed where you can fuck me properly,” she murmurs.
Maybe the next orgasms should be enough: Elsie on top, licking Ginny’s cunt while Ginny licks hers, both needing breaks because they can’t focus when they feel so good. But it’s not enough. Ginny gets Elsie on her back next, needs their fingers inside her again.
How did they ever live without this? How will they ever again, now that they know how good it is?
“Please,” Elsie gasps. “Please please please.”
For someone who gets whatever she wants, she’s still incredibly polite. Please might be the most used word in her vocabulary the past twenty-four hours.
“More, Gin, please. ”
“I can’t give you more, Els. I’ve got four fingers in you already.”
“Your thumb. Put your thumb in, too.”
“Jesus.”
Ginny truly can’t, is the thing. Elsie’s cunt is clamped down on the four fingers inside her. Ginny can barely move them, much less fit the rest of her hand inside.
“You’re too tight, sweetheart,” Ginny says. “And we don’t have any lube. But you’re taking my fingers so good.”
Elsie whines. Ginny can’t tell if it’s a happy or frustrated sound.
“When we get—” They cut themself off. When we get back to Minneapolis —that’s what they were going to say. They were going to say they’d fist her when they get home, next week, next month, whenever she wants. And they would, if she’d let them, but they’re not talking about that. Nothing exists but right now. This is all that matters.
“You’re so tight,” Ginny says. “Can you unclench for me?”
The vise around Ginny’s fingers loosens and retightens in stops and starts.
“That’s a good girl.” Ginny shifts their hand, sliding out slightly and then back in.
“Shit.”
“That’s right,” Ginny says. “That’s a good girl.”
Elsie whines again, and it’s definitely pleased this time.
Ginny doesn’t always talk much during sex. If the girl she’s fucking is into it, sure, but sometimes it can be awkward. Sometimes it feels more performative than authentic.
It does not feel performative with Elsie.
“You know how much I love your cunt, Els?”
“Yeah?”
“Love all of you,” Ginny says, and it’s not performative at all. They fist a hand in Elsie’s hair. “All this hair.” They let go and trail their fingers down her face. “Those eyes. This mouth.” Elsie bites at the pad of Ginny’s thumb, then sucks it into her mouth. Thank god they’re not still against the door—Ginny’s knees might’ve gone weak at that. Instead, she curls the four fingers in Elsie’s cunt just to make her gasp, to make it feel like they’re on a level playing field. “I love your boobs. These perfect nipples.” Ginny pinches one, then the other. They look too good—she leans down to take one in her mouth. Elsie arches off the bed.
Ginny gets distracted there for a bit, forgets that they were in the process of complimenting every part of Elsie’s body. Her boobs are small, pert. Ginny wants to put an entire one in their mouth. Elsie’s skin is easily marked, is something Ginny has learned in the last twenty-four hours. She has love bites all over: her collarbone, behind her ear, the inside of her thighs. There’s even one on her ankle. Elsie clenches tight around Ginny’s fingers as they add another star to the constellation of hickeys across her chest.
“Love your skin,” Ginny says, admiring their purpling handiwork. “And I love your cunt. Tight and wet and delicious. You feel so good around me. Never wanna do anything else but this.”
They pump their fingers and Elsie moans.
“Well… maybe there’s one thing I wanna do.”
They pull out suddenly, which is mean, but they can’t help but revel in the way Elsie cries out.
“Roll over,” they say.
Elsie pants. “Gin.”
“Get on your knees.”
The top in them forgot they’re supposed to be catering to Elsie’s whims. Elsie doesn’t seem to mind. She scrambles to roll over. Just like Ginny yesterday: face down, ass up. God, she’s got a nice ass.
“Love this, too,” Ginny says, then spits directly onto Elsie’s asshole before licking it.
The noise Elsie makes.
The way she sounds shocked at how good it feels. Ginny could come just from that.
Elsie’s hips pulse backward into Ginny’s tongue, which Ginny flicks back and forth and back again, against that tight little hole.
“Love this,” Ginny says again, mostly to themself, honestly. Then, unthinkingly, “Love you.”
Elsie comes before Ginny even gets their tongue back on her.