It made for a long drive, that series of roads from the Auckland airport to the secluded spot right on the beach. But Bridget had the window down halfway, and the radio on, and for the first time in a while she found herself not even annoyed by the occasional crying spell from the one-year-old in the backseat. She smiled, and hooked flying hair out of her face, resting her head on her palm as she cruised down the freeway. She’d seen plenty of New Zealand while working here, but she never got tired of the way it felt like driving inside a postcard. This…maybe this was exactly what she needed.
It was a small, rustic place, their getaway, but it had big windows shining out warm light against the soft blue dusk when Bridget pulled in behind Tabrett’s car. There was a warm breeze, salty and pleasantly humid, and the rhythmic crash of the ocean sounded near. She’d barely stepped out before the door banged open above and a familiar face came around the corner, full smile already present. Quickly descending the steps, Tab looked better in a t-shirt and jeans, longer hair in a loose ponytail, than the rest of the world trying their hardest. Bridget offered a grin, and stepped forward—almost. In an awkward half-step, she realized Tabrett was making a beeline for the backseat. She laughed to herself, and opened the car’s rear door. One of the side effects of having the most beautiful baby in the world: sometimes people forgot her mother existed.
“Hi, Bridge,” Tabrett said, sparing her a quick hug before crouching down to the child seat. “And hello there to you, too, Elizabeth Darcy Regan,” she murmured in that delicious accent of hers. The child stared at her silently, wide-eyed, and fumbled before taking Tab’s offered fingers in a chubby fist—gaze shifting curiously to their joined hands, she showed no sign of letting go.
“She remembers you,” Bridget says softly, watching from above with a smile. “Don’t you, Edie?”
Tabrett tilted her head. “How do you know?”
“She’s not crying her eyes out.”
“Ah-ha.” Tab leaned in to press a soft kiss to the child’s temple, and Bridget cleared her throat.
“Not fair,” she teased.
“Oh, her mother will get their turn,” Tab said with a sly smile as she stood.
Were they elsewhere, were they in view of anyone—another home, a passerby; were they anywhere but here, Bridget and Tabrett wouldn’t have been able to do this. Bridget’s back against her car, spine curving to fit the slope of it, she could only hum in simple pleasure as Tab poured an earnest kiss into her lips. Hand cupping the side of her face, Tab leaned against her fully, body soft and warm against her own, and Bridget let her lips part as she circled arms around Tabrett’s neck.
It was a promise of what was to come, a taste, mutually given and received; much, much longed for and, somehow, no less electric than their first, making Bridget’s heart thump in her chest. When Tabrett pulled away, hand still cupping her chin, Bridget took in the strong features of her face, the soft smile and emerald eyes, and sighed. “You’re too beautiful,” she whispered.
Tab lifted an eyebrow, and graced her with a quick kiss at the corner of her mouth. “For what?”
“To be anything but mine, of course,” Bridget said, forcing a teasing tone into her voice.
Tabrett couldn’t sound more serious, couldn’t look more earnest, and Bridget’s heart skipped a beat.
There were no electric lights on the back veranda. Instead, two flaming torches were fixed in iron sconces on the thick beams supporting the sloping roof overhead. The cottage was raised on stilts as most beach homes were, presenting them with a widespread vista of an ocean calm and a sky clear, dark, and glittering with stars. As she breast fed Edie on the wooden porch swing, Bridget realized she’d missed how clear the stars were, here; they weren’t visible to speak of in New York City, and downtown Los Angeles wasn’t much better. But there was something she’d missed more: the company and presence of the woman beside her.
“You look sleepy,” Tabrett said as she looked up from her script, catching Bridget’s eyes.
“It’s two in the morning for me and her,” Bridget said, gently shifting her suckling young charge in her lap. “I’m surprised she’s even hungry.”
“We could go to bed. It’s a bit early for me, but…”
“Mm, in a minute.” Bridget sighed. “This is all so wrong. It’s December, and I’m on the beach, and it’s warm.”
Tabrett’s skin was golden in the flickering light as she stretched for a moment, head thrown back, muscles flexing. “One would think you’ve never been here before,” she teased, after a long exhale. “Or wait, you’re not the one who had to wear a stuffy leather suit all day.”
“I had a leather corset,” Bridget protested. She paused, and grinned. “If you liked my cleavage in that thing before…well, you know my chest is a bit bigger for now, thanks to her. I tried it on once just out of curiosity.”
“And?” asked Tabrett with a smile, and a bit of a hungry look in her eyes.
Bridget laughed, remembering how she’d flushed just looking at herself in the mirror. “Positively indecent.”
Tab closed her eyes and sighed wantonly. “You didn’t bring it with you, did you?”
“No, sorry. Were you in the mood for some Cara and Kahlan?”
“Not until now,” Tabrett admitted. She paused, looking out to the waves cresting as they rolled noisily into the sandy beach. The moon was above them, not visible but still casting shadows over the railed walkway that descended down to the shore. “You are so brave, Bridget,” she said softly. “Having Edie by yourself.”
Bridget looked down as she hooked her bra back in place, and shrugged her top back up over her shoulder. The baby in question had had her fill of Bridget’s breast milk and was dozing off against her chest. “You know it’s something I wanted to do.”
That was only half true; it had begun as something they were going to do together, but it was only ever a silly dream. Life isn’t like a story. It was one day after they’d picked the donor profile when they both realized as much. Bridget ended up staying her course, though—there was nothing she wanted to be more than a mother, even if she couldn’t do it with Tabrett. “Besides,” she added. “Give yourself a little credit. Who have I been calling multiple times a week over the past year, complaining about sleepless nights and changing diapers and finding sitters?”
Tabrett smiled, suddenly looking a little pleased. “Me,” she said.
Edie was fast asleep in Bridget’s lap, cradled against her arm. Bridget gazed down at her, at her shock of dark hair and little nose and blue eyes that fluttered open when Bridget touched her face. “Don’t make me ask,” Bridget said suddenly, as if to no one in particular.
After a moment, Tabrett folded her script closed and put it down. “What?”
“If you want to hold her, silly. Before I put her down for the night…and probably most of tomorrow.”
As if caught, Tabrett smiled awkwardly and extended her arms. Edie’s face contorted in transit, and she began to cry once she was settled against Tabrett’s shoulder. “Shh,” Tab whispered, beginning to rock the swing back and forth as she stroked Edie’s back.
“Wait, stop the ride,” Bridget laughed. “I wanted to go change.”
Inside, Bridget unpacked a bit before changing into an oversized t-shirt and cotton shorts. Tabrett’s things were already in place; she’d arrived a half-day ahead of Bridget. The crying came to a stop without Bridget even noticing. When she emerged back outside, she found Tabrett and Edie gazing rather soulfully into each other’s eyes. Tab looked up and pouted pitifully. “Can I have her, then?”
“No, no,” Bridget murmured with a soft smile at the scene. “My baby. Ask that character of yours, Beth, what she’d say.”
“Oh, fine.” Tab thrust Edie toward Bridget with a gentle, mock distaste. “Away with her,” she sniffed in a sudden, haughty British accent. “I shan’t tease myself.”
Bridget chuckled, and took a bewildered Edie back into her arms before heading back inside. Hearing Tabrett joke and play was a treasure; not many people saw that side of her. Being quite versed in a certain bedtime routine, minutes later the baby was changed herself and slumbering quietly in her crib, pacifier in place.
Bridget and Tab settled on the swing, cuddled together just to enjoy the closeness, and the night air, and the relaxing view. Or at least, that’s what Bridget thought. She wasn’t sure how it happened, but a few moments later Tabrett was kissing her and Bridget’s hand was fisted in her hair (when had she taken it down?). “Um,” Bridget said, reluctantly pulling away. “Sorry, Tab, I’m just…a bit too exhausted for this. But we have a whole week; I’ll make it up to you.” She smiled slyly. “I promise.”
Tabrett’s lips—God, those lips—were wet, as she pursed them. “Are you too tired to come?” she murmured, eyes teasing as she began to shift, trying to straddle Bridget’s thighs. “Surely not.”
Bridget leaned forward to get her back against a more comfortable spot, and that’s when the swing nearly upended. She shrieked, arms flying out and hands gripping the back slat, as Tab quickly moved her weight forward. This had the side effect of resting her breasts directly against Bridget’s face. They both froze as the swing’s chains creaked and settled, restoring their gentle back-and-forth motion and leaving two heavily thudding, adrenaline-filled hearts. “Sorry,” Tab offered.
“Well,” Bridget said, blinking as Tabrett slowly pulled away. “I’m fully awake now. Unfortunately, I’m probably not the only one…”
They both listened, pausing for a moment, but there was no wail from inside. Just the continuous soft breeze, and the ocean. Carefully, Tabrett hunched down and kissed Bridget, tongue soft as she licked into her mouth. Bridget moaned encouragement, hand cupping Tab’s neck, fully intending to take advantage of the shot of adrenaline.
She couldn’t say she was surprised when Tabrett’s hands found their way to her breasts. She couldn’t say she minded, either. “Mm, breastfeeding boobs are the best,” she said languidly. Tab had handfuls at this point, staring at them in wonder as she massaged and explored.
“Agreed,” Tabrett murmured, and leaned down to kiss her neck as her hands ventured up under Bridget’s shirt. Bridget’s back arched in pleasure at the feeling of talented hands on the naked skin of her sensitive breasts.
“Shivers,” she gasped into Tab’s hair. “You just gave me shivers.” She smiled. “Just…careful with the nipples, because they aren’t smart enough to tell the difference between your fingers and Edie’s mouth.”
Tab hummed in acknowledgement. Her hands explored the rest of Bridget as she kissed her; her belly, her hips, pushing inside the waistband of her shorts, but they always found their way back to lightly squeezing the fullness of her breasts; just hard enough that Bridget could really feel it.
“Your body is amazing,” Tabrett said, looking deadly serious. She sat up on her knees, balancing carefully, and placed her hands on her hips. “Are you sure you had a baby at all? How’d you do this?”
“It was not easy,” Bridget laughed. “Thank you for…noticing.”
“Mm, as if I couldn’t.”
With that, Tabrett was back to making love to her, and thankfully it wasn’t long before her hand ventured down Bridget’s belly, between her legs. With a comfortable audacity, Tab’s fingers pressed and stroked at her sex through her panties, the sheer fabric doing nothing to hide the heat and dampness Tabrett’s teasing had earned. Up until this point, Bridget had been enjoying this like one enjoyed a warm bath after a day’s work in the sun; but now, with Tab’s fingers tracing firm patterns up and down her slit, pushing fruitlessly against her opening, Bridget’s body wanted more, and badly. “Tab, oh,” she gasped, and realized she was clutching her shoulders in expectation. She parted her legs, as much as Tabrett’s own would let her. “More.”
With a rough exhale against Bridget’s ear, Tabrett nipped at the lobe there as two fingers hooked around the crotch of her panties and pushed. Bridget moaned, pussy clenching around the welcome intrusion. Tabrett hissed in her ear, curled her fingers inside. “Oh my God, Bridge, you’re so tight.”
“That wasn’t easy either,” Bridget admitted. She paused, holding in breath as Tab’s blessed fingers left her before plunging back in. She let her head fall back in rapture; Tab’s free hand came to cradle her skull as she kissed her deeply, and Bridget’s tongue curled and pushed against Tabrett’s, the taste of her mouth nearly dwarfed by the bright pulses of pleasure emerging from every thrust of fingers inside her. “I don’t know why,” Bridget murmured, half in a daze, “but sex has been so much better since I had Edie.”
Tab pulled back in interest, but her fingers stayed buried. “Oh really. And who’ve you been sexing up, hm?”
Bridget grinned lazily. “Myself.”
“You and me both,” Tabrett said. “So, better sex…I’ll have to find some bloke to knock me up, then, haven’t I?”
“Mm. I mean, no! Well, not unless you wanted to.”
Tabrett laughed against her neck, deep and throaty, as she sent her fingers deep. “Don’t worry, Bridge. I won’t tell anyone how jealous you are.”
Bridget smiled at her sleepily. “This isn’t fair. I’m tired!”
Tab hummed, and took another kiss from her lips, then fell to suck at her neck, pressing her tongue to her pulse point as she suddenly doubled her pace between Bridget’s thighs. Bridget groaned softly, her orgasm imminent, coiled and almost ready. Tabrett’s thumb found her hardened clit, and rubbed in quick circles, and Bridget’s inner muscles tried their hardest to pull Tab’s fingers deeper in. Then she was chanting “Yes,” and “Oh,” and then, with a final skilled thrust and curl from Tabrett, she was riding different kinds of waves from those they’d watched all night; ones that left her body feeling warm all over and Tabrett’s fingers shining sticky-wet in flickering torchlight.
“How do I look?”
Bridget circled dramatically in their bedroom, strap-on jutting from her naked hips. Tabrett, just finished stripping, put her hair up into a ponytail and grinned as she looked her over appreciatively. “Gorgeous. Also, like you really want to use that on me.”
Bridget glanced down at the ivory-colored toy in her fist, then back up at Tabrett’s body. “More than less,” she admitted. After a long day spent introducing the ocean to a rather adventurous one-year-old (multiple times; each time Edie got tired, was whisked away, and then later brought back, it was as if she’d never seen it before), they were eager for some time to themselves. They’d watched a movie on the couch together as Edie played with her toys on the rug, but it was time for contact less than chaste now that the young one was fed and put to sleep.
There didn’t seem time to be wasted on silly things like kissing and groping. Bridget slicked the fake cock with a few drops of lubricant as Tabrett climbed onto a high-backed chair face first, resting crossed arms on the top and dipping her spine to raise her ass. Bridget nearly whimpered at the sight, and did when Tabrett looked back at her, green eyes letting Bridget know just how badly she wanted this.
She closed the distance in two strides, and, reverently, with a hand trembling in anticipation, guided the tip of the phallus to the entrance of Tabrett’s sex. She dragged its head up and down her flesh, making Tab lean into it wantonly, then thrust forward—with incredible restraint, she only gave her half of its full length. It wasn’t small. “Oh God,” Tabrett groaned, head sinking down. Bridget gave her a few shallow thrusts, which earned her a sharp sideways glance. “What are you waiting for?” Tabrett pressed.
“That,” Bridget said with a grin, and laid into her—she kept thrusts deep and powerful, inexorable, rather than a furious (and louder) pace. Rewarded with small noises of sheer pleasure, Bridget dug fingers into Tab’s hips, dragged down the tanned skin of her back—not with nails, with firm fingertips; just the way she liked it. Her own hips churned against her in a rhythm that she knew would have Tabrett begging for more.
“Come on,” Bridget said softly, slowing to a stop suddenly, pulling out until just the tip rested inside Tabrett. “Do a little work for me.”
Whining, Tab thrust back, impaling herself. Head dropping, ponytail rolling across her back, she fucked herself on the strap-on while Bridget held her hips, pulling her back onto it with each thrust. Bridget watched, swallowing against nothing as the length of hardness was buried to the hilt inside her, again and again and again. If the toy’s base wasn’t already rubbing pleasurably against her clit, this would get her plenty wet.
Bridget and Tabrett had become lovers in secret within a few months of meeting, but they’d hardly had the chance to try everything together, to fully discover each other’s wants and likes in the bedroom. Thus it was with some trepidation that Bridget reached for Tab’s ponytail, seizing it in a fist with a manner not unlike the way she’d held her fake cock earlier. With it, she gently pulled back, and Tabrett moaned quietly, arching her spine as she followed Bridget’s lead and lifted her head. “Does that hurt too much?” Bridget asked softly.
“It’s fine,” Tabrett breathed. “Did I ever tell you I love it when you go all heartless Mother Confessor during sex?”
“Okay, Cara,” Bridget teased.
“No, it’s true,” Tab protested. “Ohh, right there. She can be a real bitch, yeah? But…so hot.” She grunted as Bridget jerked on her hair a little and started fucking her in earnest. Bridget positioned her how she wanted her: head snapped back, chest pressed in against the upholstery, and ass raised for Bridget’s thrusting pleasure. She snaked a hand around Tabrett’s thigh to find her clit; it was easy, already swollen and slick. And Bridget thrust, and thrust more, while two fingers drew circles where Tab needed her. Her abdominal muscles were strong, but not invincible, and it wasn’t long before she was bodily pulling Tabrett back against every thrust; thankfully, Tabrett was close enough to groan in clear frustration when Bridget paused to shift her footing.
Once she knew, that was that; Bridget let her own arousal flood her system, and her orgasm built like a coming hurricane. She buried the cock in Tabrett and rubbed her clit hard against the base, and; wow, that happened fast. A whole year and she still wasn’t used to sex being so much…easier. She let her orgasm take her, one small but amazing, and fucked Tabrett straight through it, mindlessly humping into her as she pinched at her clit; Tabrett followed her with a shudder, and her spine arched tight. When it was over Bridget released her hair, and watched in awe as blood rushed back into her whitened fist.
The next day found them inside: Bridget had a sunburn. She tried to shrug it off, but Tabrett would hear absolutely none of it, no matter how slight it was, no matter that Bridget got them more or less all the time. This, in turn, found them on the main room couch (or loveseat, really) with Edie captive between them, watching family-friendly entertainment of all kinds that Bridget had brought with her.
“Hey, Tab,” she said suddenly, halfway through a movie that seemed Edie’s current favorite: How To Train Your Dragon. “Do you ever think of that time, back when we had…plans?”
Edie chose that time to start crying. Of course. She’d been too tired to do anything but babble and gurgle recently, but not anymore. With a sigh, Bridget made to pick her up. To her surprise Tabrett beat her to it, standing and scooping the child into her arms in one swift motion. “I’ve got this one,” Tab assured her. “Well, unless she’s hungry.”
“She’s probably just bored, or wants to go outside,” Bridget offered over a scream.
Tabrett nodded, and headed out the back porch, the screen door slamming shut behind her. Bridget stood and moved to lean against the inside frame, watching Tabrett make her way down the walkway. Edie peered back over her shoulder at her mommy, and a smile brightened her face. Bridget smiled back.