Chapter Twenty-Seven
‘But calling them out was the right thing,’ Anika says to Hattie, raising her voice over the bass-rumble of music in the bar and draining the last of her gin and tonic.
‘I never used to have the guts.’ She laughs at the memory they’re sharing.
‘I’d never seen someone’s chest turn that red that quickly, though.
I thought her whole head was going to explode! ’
They both giggle loudly now, drawing a knowing smile from the barman as he looks over his shoulder from where he’s fixing their third round of drinks.
Anika is mainly focused on the heat of Hattie’s hand on her knee as she reaches over supposedly in mirth but really as an excuse to touch her, like she’s been doing all evening.
The bar is underground, dark, almost womb-like.
‘I’m glad you were there, Neeks,’ Hattie tells her, voice lowering.
‘Those seminars were rough. If you hadn’t been there, I’d have thought, am I mad?
Is it me?’ She shakes her head and then nods at the barman to thank him for their espresso Martinis.
Anika attempted to open a tab after the second round, but Hattie explained that she knew the owner and they’d be in line for, if not some freebies, then at least a heavy discount.
She told Anika how glad she was that they’ve come somewhere private.
Anika took it as a sign of good things to come.
Even more so now as Hattie leans her elbow on the bar to turn her lovely face to one side on her upturned palm, eyeing Anika with lowered lids.
‘So I have to ask the obligatory question,’ she says. ‘How’s your love life? Seeing anyone?’ She keeps focused on Anika as she sips her drink.
‘I’m … not …’ Anika stops. Why am I hesitating? Why is Cam in her head right now? ‘Er, I was seeing someone a while ago, but I was somehow oblivious to the fact that we weren’t compatible in any way. In bed, out of bed …’
‘Oof. Tragique,’ Hattie says, raising an eyebrow and blinking sultrily.
Anika gives an ironic chuckle. ‘Yeah. To be honest, I’m tired of settling or being … unsatisfied.’
‘Mmhmm,’ Hattie says, her liquid black eyes still locked on Anika’s.
‘I’m tired of overthinking things. I even tried a hook-up on one of the apps,’ Anika adds.
‘How did that work out?’
Draining her drink to the middle before she answers, Anika says, ‘It worked out very well.’ She pauses a moment. ‘I made sure I got exactly what I wanted.’
Leaning forward, the dark secret of her cleavage now inviting Anika’s gaze, Hattie says, ‘Is that so?’
‘Yes. It’s quite addictive.’
‘I could help you get what you want, too,’ Hattie murmurs. Her fingers graze the back of Anika’s hand, then edge up her wrist, just inside her rolled shirt cuff.
‘I’m pretty sure that’s true.’ Anika’s voice is low. She takes another long glug of her drink and then slides off her stool, her body nestled in between Hattie’s legs. She places her glass on the bar, now pretty much empty, and lifts Hattie’s out of her grip, too.
‘I’m still drinking that,’ Hattie says in protest, her tone teasing.
‘We’ll get you another one in a minute.’
Hattie leans forward until her mouth is almost touching Anika’s. ‘Just a minute?’
Anika makes up the distance, brushing her lips against Hattie’s. ‘It won’t take you too long to make me come, right?’ she whispers.
Leading Hattie towards the ladies’, Anika worries faintly about losing their seats, then dismisses this vestige of the old her.
The toilets are even darker than the bar, all exposed concrete and copper piping, with three large cubicles.
One is occupied, and there’s a woman standing at the sinks swiping on lipstick.
Her eyes track Anika and Hattie as they both move into the same stall.
Just before the door to the cubicle closes, Anika catches a glimpse of the two of them in the scratchy reflection of the wide mirror over the sinks – two beautiful, brown-skinned women pressed together, one of whom Anika hardly recognises: a halo of slowly-fading pink curls around her head, the collar of her shirt being pulled aside so the other woman’s lips can better caress her neck …
I do what I like.
The phrase never felt so right.
Moments later, Anika is slamming the stall door shut and locking it while Hattie moves behind her, one manicured hand unbuttoning the shirt further and snaking inside Anika’s bra as her other hand unhooks the fastening on her tailored shorts.
‘This OK?’ Hattie asks. Anika nods eagerly, and Hattie moves the zip downwards and then starts an achingly slow slide of her hand down Anika’s stomach and inside her underwear.
‘Oh …’
She was right. Anika feels the heat of Hattie’s body pressed against her back, making it sweat.
Her friend’s fingers move rhythmically and Anika leans forward against the cubical wall, muffling her moans against her forearm.
Moments later, Hattie brings her to orgasm whispering hot, dirty shit into her ear.
They both let out tense, low laughter as Hattie eases back.
Anika does up her shorts and turns around to face her.
‘Mmm. Cheers, mate.’ They chuckle again, but Anika still feels nothing has changed in their friendship. She feels understood, and grateful for their shared past, but with no expectations of a future. It’s nothing like what she imagines when she thinks of Cam …
Looking into Hattie’s amber-coloured eyes and the desire still lingering there, Anika realises there’s something else she’s always wanted to do but never had the opportunity – or, more accurately, the guts.
She thinks of the cigarette they shared outside, one mouth touching lightly against the paper where the other’s was moments before.
She plans to put her mouth somewhere else now.
Hattie seems surprised as Anika squats down low. She shuffles Hattie’s form-fitting skirt up over her hips until she’s face-to-face with black lace. ‘Yeah?’ she asks, looking up at her friend.
‘Definitely.’
The damp warmth of Anika’s mouth matches what she finds between Hattie’s legs as she open-mouth kisses her over her panties, then pulls them to one side and licks hard.
She grins when Hattie groans, and Anika pulls back for a second to chide her with a wink.
‘Shh.’ Hattie claps a hand over her mouth.
The taste of her is salt and cream, unexpected and delicious.
Anika sets to work with her tongue, marvelling at the difference in pleasuring a woman – the softness, the burning heat, the tang of tasting someone inside, smooth and undulating.
Hattie’s other hand grips a fistful of Anika’s hair, her body tightening and relaxing then tightening again around the two fingers Anika’s slipped inside her until she whimpers long and high, her legs trembling into her orgasm.
Anika stands up as Hattie eventually places her high heel back on the floor from where she hiked her leg up over Anika’s shoulder, and they both laugh again, straighten their clothes and finally relinquish the stall.
Twenty minutes later Anika has said her goodbyes and is in a cab home, alone, still buzzing from the elation of once again satisfying her needs with the help of the diary. Why did I never think of this before?
She’s struck, though, with a memory of the past – of the very moment when she gave up writing in the diary before. She was too young, lacking control over how she was perceived or desired. Nothing like she is now.
It was at the end of that night … But maybe also the start of something she’s only just been able to return to, and hopefully release.