Chapter 5
Five
Clem took longer than usual for her shower. She relished the water that verged on too hot, needing the cleansing for her mind as well as her body.
There was a beautiful, generous woman in the next room who claimed to be a sprite. Clem wasn’t one hundred percent sure what she thought of it all. Yes, Hazel had shown her that trick in the kitchen, but that could have been a trick of the light, or a sleight of hand.
After shampooing her hair for the second time (she was too distracted to remember if she had already done it until after she started again), Clem decided she didn’t care.
It could be the afterglow, but right now she didn’t even care if Hazel was snooping through her things.
Hell, she didn’t think she cared if Hazel was robbing her blind right now.
The sensations she’d experienced with Hazel were enough to make up for any item that could go missing.
As she brushed her teeth after her shower she decided that actually, yeah, she did care if Hazel was stealing her things. Thankfully she didn’t think that was happening.
But she finished brushing her teeth before the timer on the toothbrush alerted her that it had been two minutes, and she was hurried in her movements as she wrenched open the door.
Her worries were unfounded. She could see across the short hallway that Hazel was in her room, standing next to the window.
“You certainly know how to give a girl pleasure,” Clem announced as she walked into the bedroom.
She felt a little steadier now that she had showered and brushed her teeth.
Hazel was standing with her back to Clem, looking out the window at the balcony across the way.
Christmas lights flashed in technicolor rhythm from where they were strung along the railing.
They threw a rainbow halo around Hazel’s head, and Clem paused for a moment to admire the beauty of the scene.
Hazel turned to look at her as she spoke and Clem almost regretted interrupting.
“Also, I put out a towel and washcloth for you.” She gestured over her shoulder toward the bathroom.
“That’s very kind of you.” Hazel strode to where she stood.
She curled one hand around the back of Clem’s head and pulled her in for a quick, steamy kiss that was over before Clem could return it.
“I’ll be quick. We’ve got more pleasure to get to.
” The look she threw Clem was cheeky and full of promise.
Clem’s legs felt weak at the prospect. She watched as Hazel retreated into the bathroom, then looked at her bedroom with new eyes. It was sparse, which she had always appreciated. Too much clutter made her uneasy, and her bedroom needed to be as free from stress as possible.
Anxiety now threatened to interrupt the pleasant glow she was basking in, so she set about turning back the sheets.
Her vintage style brass bed frame had been a major investment when she bought it.
The sticker shock had almost prevented her from committing to it, but even three years later, she loved it.
It had a turn-of-the-century design, with a crossbar beneath spindles.
Her cream duvet covered sage green sheets, and her pillows were full and easy to sink into.
This was a bed of peace, comfort. It had seen her through her hardest breakup, laughter, and lonely nights.
Her body throbbed when she thought about what it might witness tonight.
As if on cue, Hazel opened the door to the bathroom, making Clem turn.
She hadn’t bothered with putting clothes back on, a fact Clem was grateful for.
Hazel’s body was strong, with fierce muscles softened by curves.
Her breasts were heavy and full, and Clem wanted nothing more than to explore them, to find out the places that made Hazel gasp.
Clem perched on the edge of the bed. Hazel stood in front of her, and Clem put her hands on Hazel’s hips. Hazel’s skin was impossibly smooth, and Clem leaned forward to place a kiss on her hip. “Is that vanilla?” she murmured. “How do you smell like vanilla? I don’t have anything with that scent.”
“It’s a holdover from the cookie.” Hazel’s voice was husky.
Her hands came to Clem’s shoulders. Her fingernails bit into Clem’s skin as Clem traced the tip of her tongue along the crease in Hazel’s hip.
She knew she’d have crescent moon marks later, but she didn’t care.
She almost looked forward to seeing what marks were left on her body after tonight.
She pulled, and Hazel’s knees bumped the edge of the bed. When there was nowhere else to go, Clem tugged once more and Hazel sat on her lap with a gasp.
“Well, this is fun,” Hazel said, her voice breathy.
“Yeah, you are,” Clem agreed. She wasted no time in catching one of Hazel’s nipples in her mouth. Hazel’s hands fisted in Clem’s hair, tugging and sending sparks through her scalp. She flicked her tongue over Hazel’s nipple in response, grabbing Hazel’s ass as she ground against Clem.
Clem laughed in surprise as Hazel surged forward, forcing her back onto the bed. Above her now, Hazel grinned, then set about scrambling Clem’s mind with her deft tongue and eager hands.
Hazel was greedy in all the best ways. The pressure built in Clem until it burst forth on a strangled cry.
Before she could come down, Hazel dove in again, driving her higher this time.
Clem couldn’t bear it, couldn’t take this pleasure that hit like a knife’s edge.
But Hazel demanded it of her, and Clem’s body gave whatever Hazel asked of it.
Finally, having climbed higher than she ever had before, Clem came apart, exploding like the starbursts in her vision, her body heated and glowing like the Christmas tree in her living room.
“Oh. My. God.” Clem could barely speak over the pounding of her heart. Her breath came in gasps. “That was …there aren’t even words for what that was.” Hazel stretched out beside her, languorous and smug. Clem looked over at her and wheezed out a laugh. “Do you know how hot smug looks on you?”
“I mean, I took the form you would find most attractive, so I can hardly take credit for that.” Hazel seemed unconcerned by how dismissive that came out.
Clem furrowed her brow. She pushed up onto an elbow and stared down at the sprite in her bed. “No. That’s not true. Smug is intrinsic. It wouldn’t matter what your outsides looked like. That feeling — the way smug melts into the essence of you — that is what’s hot about it.”
“The way smug melts into the essence of you … Clementine Baker, you could write some popular books with that sort of talk.” Hazel grinned up at her. Clem reached up a hand to sweep a lock of hair from Hazel’s cheek.
“Honestly, I would love to do that.” The words burst out of Clem before she could stop them. She sighed, then ducked her head, suddenly bashful.
Two fingers touched her chin, gently urging her to look back at Hazel. “Tell me.”
“I don’t think there’s too much to tell.
” Clem said. Hazel had already rocked her world several times over, but somehow this felt even more vulnerable.
This was touching something close to her center, the very core of her being.
Clem had wanted to be a writer — a published author — since she was a kid.
Ages ago a teacher had seen the sensitive student who used fiction to tell her truths, and had encouraged her to write more.
It had ignited a dream inside Clem: the hope of connecting with people through her stories.
She didn’t think she could tell all of that to Hazel, though. She had only just met this woman. Clem flushed, thinking about all she had done with someone who was barely more than a stranger.
“What’s the blush for?” Hazel asked, reaching up to touch Clem’s cheek.
“Oh,” Clem faltered. “I was just thinking about tonight.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but something about it felt wrong. “And how I don’t even know you. I mean, obviously I know you, but … you know.”
“I know,” Hazel said with a soft smile. She tapped Clem’s cheek. “Tell me about the writing, ” she repeated.
Normally, when people asked about her stories, they did it in a way that made Clem feel deeply vulnerable — too vulnerable to tell the whole truth when someone asked her about what she wanted to do.
But something about the way Hazel said it made Clem’s heart shiver. This was someone who would listen to her and wouldn’t laugh or judge or demand to read her work. Clem drew a deep breath and closed her eyes, then started speaking before she could second guess it.
“I work a pretty soulless job. I mean, I think it’s soulless, but the rest of my department is all in on it. But I work in the fundraising department of a private school that probably doesn’t need to fundraise.”
“You ask people for money?”
“Not me, specifically. God, no.” Clem shuddered. “I break out into hives just thinking about it. But I do the email marketing and data management for the department. And write ups. I do the feel-good write ups in the quarterly magazine.”
“Why is it soulless?”
Clem sighed. She was being unfair. “It probably isn’t actually.
But I don’t think the culture of the place meshes with me.
I mean, they wouldn’t be okay with me dating a woman, that’s for sure.
” She sighed again, and shook her head. “And it’s not like I’m doing anything no one else can do.
So those things combined make work more drudgery than delight for me.
” She twitched a shoulder in what was meant to be a shrug.
“I don’t know. I just don’t fit in. I think that’s the problem. ”
“And you would fit in with writing.”
“I think so. I mean, it’s the best, right? You get to create worlds and characters and when people read your work you are connected to them — even if just for a moment. If people read your work, I guess,” she corrected.
“Is anyone reading your work?” Hazel propped herself up on an elbow. “Have you written anything for anyone to read?”