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Pattie loves George.
A single feather falls lazily from the wood window. Her eyes follow it as Maureen sits beside her.
She likes George, she adores him, she admires him, she enjoys his presence and she dreams of living with him as his wife. Of course, he’s the man she has to marry. She can’t wait for the big day.
She doesn’t have to think twice. She knows she won’t regret it. She’s never been the kind to care about the future or even the past: she is right where she wants to be, and if she ever finds out that she isn’t, she moves on.
“I think that’s a good choice of dress”, Maureen comments, grinning. “Shows off your good tastes. And that coat you chose for George is fab.”
“Thank you. Yes, I believe it is.”
Pattie stands up and goes to the window. Her pointer finger traces the sill.
“Hey, you got something to eat? I’m starving”, Maureen asks. “If it’s no bother.”
“I’ve got plenty of food in the kitchen, but if you want, there are candies and chocolate in the top drawer.”
“Oh, that’d be nice! I’d really not want to get ‘em away from you, though.”
“Don’t worry. Take as much as you want.”
“Thanks, you’re too kind. I've been such a sucker for sweets since my little Zak’s birth.”
Maureen ceremoniously opens the drawer and pops one mint candy into her mouth. She then wipes her hands on her blouse and slides her fingers through Pattie’s hair.
Pattie has always liked Maureen’s touch on her hair. It’s gentle, friendly, but very meticulous and professional. That endearing habit comes, without a doubt, from her job as a hairdresser.
“I love your hair”, Maureen chuckles. “It’s so soft. Do you like your hair?”
“Yes. I like hair in general. Weird, isn’t it?” Pattie laughs. “I just enjoy touching people’s hair, and getting touched as well.”
“Hmm. You’d like Richie. He loves playing with people’s hair. Told me he’d once wanted to become a hairdresser, but thought it'd make him look a bit like a queer.”
“Really?”
Maureen snorts.
“Well, I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t put it that way, but that’s what I got from what he said.”
“George loves having his hair touched”, Pattie adds as Maureen carefully brushes the strands across her neck, sending a slight shiver through her skull.
“I noticed that”, Maureen replies gleefully, braiding the hair on top. “Saw him with his own hands in his mop-top the other day on the train. The lad looked ready to fall asleep right there.”
Pattie chuckles, imagining George leaning against the window, fingers buried in the thick, dark locks. Fondness and tenderness tighten her chest. And something else as well, lurking around her abdomen — wonder, maybe? Could that be — could that be regrets?
“Mo?”
“Yeah? Oh, sorry, did I hurt you? My brush is a bit worn-out, hair gets stuck in it.”
“No, no, don’t worry.”
She holds her legs close to her body and rests her chin on her knees.
“You’re married. You’ve been married for a long time now.”
“Well, if you call one year a long time… Y’know, what is a long time? But yes, I’m married.”
“Are there things you stopped doing or you never did that you find yourself missing?”
Maureen doesn’t stop braiding. If anything, her fingers quicken.
“Pattie… Are you having second thoughts about marrying George?”
“No. Of course not. I love George.”
“What is it that you mean, then? If you don’t mind sharing.”
Pattie takes her time and doesn’t feel she has to hurry. That’s exactly what she wishes for: no hurry.
“I was just thinking about the things I’ll never get to do. Not dwelling, no. Just reflecting.”
“Oh. If you want to keep your job, you know something can be arranged. Even if George turns out to be very rich, you could still keep a little business on the side.”
“It’s not that. I’ve done Vogue , and plenty of other things, and I’m fine with it if George wants to keep me by his side. No, I’m talking more… You know… The stuff.”
Maureen unties the hair and starts the braid all over again.
“By stuff, you mean sexual intercourse , I guess?”
Her snickers hidden behind her gritted teeth are blatant.
“If you put it like that, yes.”
Pattie can almost hear Maureen think.
“Are there things you’d like that George can’t give you? I mean, husbands are also meant to give you what you want in terms of the stuff , aren’t they?”
“Course. But there’s stuff I wouldn’t dare ask my husband to do, because they are simply… How could I say that… Not appropriate when you’re going to see that person again. You know what I mean?”
“Like kinks?”
“Like kinks.”
“You’ve got lotsa kinks, then?”
Pattie blushes. She never thought that conversation would go that far; now, thinking about kinks in this refined, the old-fashioned bedroom seems terribly out of place, but also awfully tempting.
“A few.”
Maureen falls silent.
“I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” Maureen asks, and when Pattie turns around, she comes face to face with a serious, quiet gaze.
The eye bags under her eyes weren’t there a year ago; two obvious marks of her lack of sleep from so many nights spent looking after her child. Pattie admires her. The feeling has an intractable grip on her stomach: isn’t it immature, to worry about sex in front of a woman who gave birth, and thus must know so much more than she does? Everything seems too close, no matter how far — too far, no matter how close.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
To Pattie’s surprise, Maureen laughs and dismisses her apologies with a wave of her hand, her fingers slipping back into Pattie’s hair.
“I’m not uncomfortable. I was just thinking.”
Then, her lips stretch into a large, toothy grin.
“Got anything to share? If you don’t mind.”
Pattie turns back to the window.
“About what I’d like to do to men?”
“And what you’d like men to do to you.”
She doesn’t know where to start. With her legs crossed at the ankles, she closes her eyes.
“Well, I’d like to try something with objects.”
“Objects?”
“Toys, Mo. Like a dildo.”
Maureen doesn’t look impressed at all. She chortles.
“Ah, alright. That ain’t something I’ve really thought about, but I’ve gotta admit I wouldn’t mind at all using one of these.”
“And, you know, outdoor sex.”
This time, Maureen’s boisterous laughter rumbles from deep in her throat.
“My God, are you talking about exhibitionism?”
“No, but… Well, yeah, maybe. Not necessarily. Maybe just getting lost in the grass, with the wind, and the sun, or at the beach with the tide…I like beaches a lot. That's something I could do with George for sure.”
“Not my type, but I can understand. Next?”
Pattie mimics thinking it through. Her heart slyly pounds at her head; there’s no use in denying she’s ever so slightly aroused now, as a comfortable warmth settles between her thighs. It’s late; the sky is a deep purple; she feels both drained and peaceful looking at the window.
“That thing where you pretend you’re someone else while doing the act, too.”
“ Roleplay !?”
“Argh, Mo, not so loud!” Pattie giggles, shivering nervously.
“Alright, alright. What about foot fetishes?”
“What about it?”
“Well…?”
Pattie smirks.
“You’ve got it hard, then?”
Maureen takes an indignant look.
“Who do you think I am? Feet are disgusting! Hands, though… Y’know, strong, callused hands… And the rings… I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”
“I think you’re with the right bloke, then”, Pattie chuckles as Maureen groans.
“I guess so. I do love Ritchie to bits.”
Silence brings them both back to their thoughts. Pattie blows away a curl of hair that came resting upon the line of her nose. Her right knee is uncontrollably bouncing up and down.
“There”, Maureen whispers, satisfied. “Pretty German braid.”
“Maureen?”
“Right there.”
“What about girls?”
Maureen sits cross-legged, frowning.
“Girls?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
That’s something George is never going to give me.
That’s something I shouldn’t even ever have thought about.
But Pattie isn’t prone to regrets.
“You know liking girls isn’t a kink, right?”
“God, Mo, of course, I know that. I’m just curious. I’ve thought about kissing, and maybe… Maybe a bit more. Wonder what it feels like, that’s all. Maybe I wouldn’t like it.”
Maureen is such an open, easy-going person. She’ll understand. Won’t she?
“I’ve been wondering, too.”
Pattie’s breath quickens as she searches for her eyes. She finds them holding her gaze, tired but calm and steady.
“Now, if this isn’t your way of asking for it and I misunderstood, I’m deeply sorry”, Maureen murmurs before grasping her lips between her own.
Pattie’s breath hitches. Perfume intoxicates her. Hair is everywhere. Delicate hands come resting on her waist. When they part, the feather is still hanging from the wood window. The sky is still dark and the room still warm.
They don’t talk much. Pattie unbuttons Maureen’s blouse carefully, fingers trembling in anticipation.
“I hope you won’t regret this”, she says with hooded eyes, mind foggy but oh-so-clear.
“I won’t”, Maureen simply assures her.
She slides a hand under Pattie’s blouse, touching her skin, roots of heat emerging from her fingertips and curling around the very core of Pattie’s being. When their breasts come pressing together, Maureen’s eyes are dark and lit like a full moon night.
“Pattie”, she utters gently. “I don’t want this to be a recurring thing. I wanna make it clear that we’re only experimenting. Otherwise, I’d have to leave it there, because I’ve got too much respect for Ritchie, and I’m not looking for anything else, from anyone.”
Pattie shakes her head as she lets herself sink into the pillows, her legs weak.
“Don’t worry. Likewise.”
Maureen grins from ear to ear, a bright, sunny grin which Pattie reciprocates.
“Can I touch you?”
Pattie nods. It doesn’t feel like the end of the world as she would’ve thought; it’s warm and unsettling in the most enchanting way.
Maureen’s hand creeps under Pattie’s skirt and finds her knickers. Her fingers play with the seams, then follow a path past the fabric. She slides her hand between her legs, sending a fit of flames to her stomach. There’s a hot, burning blaze between them and Pattie is lost in a strange world of lust and wonderment.
Fingers gently play with her, caressing as if coaxing a delicate autumn leaf from a tree. She keeps her eyes closed, fearing opening them might ruin the pleasure. A tremble, a quiver, a scorching thrill — her hips find their own pace as chaos creeps within.
If Pattie is silk, then Maureen is velvet. Pattie has always believed that to accept satisfying someone’s appetite for your body is to give yourself entirely. And so she does. She gives herself to Maureen who accepts her gladly and gives back without further ado. Pattie marvels at Maureen’s firm grip on her waist, at her breasts hanging loosely and her thighs imprisoning hers in the sweetest possible way. She finds shelter in her casual words; Maureen’s little bits of attention are as considerate as welcomed.
They take their time. Once it’s over, Pattie gathers the pillows and piles them at the bedhead. Maureen leans back against them with a cigarette between her lips. Pattie is enthralled as her gaze slides over Maureen’s profile.
“I wish I looked as lovely as you do when you’re smoking”, Pattie whispers.
Maureen chuckles and pushes back a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I used to give ten ciggies a day to a lad at school so he would teach me to ‘smoke properly’”, she says, and Pattie laughs as well.
“I’m sure it was worth it.”
“I don’t know, but at least I’m now better with business than I was at the time”, Maureen grins.
They put back their clothes. With her blouse on, Pattie feels like regaining her identity, in some sort of strange way. As if who she truly was depended on what she showed the world. As if everything she’d felt during the past hour was barely a dream.
“Pattie?” Maureen asks, lazily putting on her socks as she’s still half lying on the bed.
“Hmm?”
“You’re not a lesbian, are you?”
Pattie avoids her eyes.
“Course not.”
“But you’ve been attracted to some girls.”
“I guess so.”
“Have you been in love, then?”
Her gaze is warm. Pattie can’t help it: she has to look at her.
“No.”
“Me neither.”
Pattie sits on the bed and resolutely stares at the window. All of a sudden, the dark sky feels much too heavy.
“Maureen, did you lie to me?”
Maureen frowns, and her expression remains undecipherable.
“Of course not. Why would you think so?”
“We did have that moment together to try out new things, then. Nothing more.”
“Nothing more”, Maureen nods.
There’s a crack in the windowpane. There’s a crack in the window of that refined, old-fashioned bedroom, how come she didn’t see it? Water must seep inside when it rains too hard.
“Are you telling me you’d want it to mean something?” Maureen asks carefully, resting her hand on Pattie’s forearm.
“No.”
“You don’t have…”
“I don’t.”
“Everything’s fine?”
“Everything’s fine.”
Maureen smiles bashfully.
“We’re good, then?”
Pattie smiles back.
“We’re good.”
Maureen holds her in a tight embrace, burying her face in the crook of her neck. Pattie now perceives a sense of urgency, of unease, in her touch.
“Mo?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you regretting this?”
Maureen lets go of her, and sighs as the feather hanging from the wood window slides down to disappear into the night. Pattie watches both of them. The feather once belonged to a bird; is the bird dead, now?
“I don’t regret what we did, no. It was nice, really. Felt amazing. It was my first time trying this with a girl, and you made it lovely.”
Pattie feels her cheeks heating up.
“But don’t you feel bad about George? You’re not even married yet.”
Pattie purses her lips, trying her hardest not to let the nerves get the best of her.
“This is exactly why I’ve done this today. We’re not married yet, but once we will be, we’ll be having no secrets from each other. Do you understand? Not a single one. But today, I’m not his wife, and I’ve taken this last opportunity as a goodbye to my previous life. I’m definitely not regretting this.”
“Well, what about me, then?” Maureen insists calmly, rearranging the pillows. “Ritch is my husband and the father of my darling Zak. There’s no way I’m keeping this from him. But I’m quite sure he won’t like it if he comes to know about what we did.”
Pattie shuts her eyes and listens to the wind. When she opens them back, Maureen is staring, and the wind is replaced by her deep breathing.
“You can tell him if he promises not to tell George. But since we won’t ever do this again, he wouldn’t have to worry either way. This is our world, Maureen, this has to stay between us. It’ll be our secret, the kind of secret you reminisce about in your old days, nothing more.”
Maureen chuckles a bit sadly, but then her smile regains assurance, and Pattie speaks again.
“I mean, you can’t tell him that, can you? How would you feel if you learnt that, say, Ringo had fornicated with George?”
Maureen snorts, her eyes widening in what can only be the shock, but Pattie doesn’t miss the blush creeping up her neck. She smiles.
“Well?”
“I—I think you… You’re right.”
Her cheeks are a dark shade of pink. Pattie giggles fondly.
“Well, I guess I found it at last.”
“Pardon?”
“You’ve got a thing for handsome blokes making out together, don’t you?”
Maureen’s eyes widen again as her face grows impossibly redder.
“No! No, no, of course not! My God, Pattie!”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I’m… I don’t — just let it go, will ya?”
Pattie erupts in laughter as she falls back onto the mattress, loving the way her hair spreads around her head like an aureole.
“I can’t hold it against you, really. Can’t say George isn’t stunning.”
“Oh, Pattie, c’mon, don’t be so hard on me.”
She chuckles sheepishly, and Pattie is delighted to see that things almost seem back to normal.
“We might as well swap husbands, you know, once we get this wedding done.”
“There’s no way I’m letting you have my Ritchie”, Maureen protests.
But she’s smiling from ear to ear, and Pattie can’t help but mirror her grin.
Pattie loves George and knows he’s the love of her life. She just happens to have quite a busy life.