Ember Flowers (10 page)

A nod of
acceptance from the policewoman, she gestured Jean toward the
living area. “Would you like to sit for a while?, I just wanna get
changed, I won’t be long.”

“Sure.” She
followed Jo’s directions, heading around the bend toward a carpeted
room. Leather sofas, a wooden coffee table, store bought pictures
on the wall. The room had been child proofed. She sat down across
from the TV, silently glad she had invested in a sports strength
roll on deodorant. She may have been working all day in the heat,
but fortunately she wouldn’t smell like it. A look down at her legs
and stomach. Her beige tank was in a sorry state. A smear of dirt
across the flank like a sword swipe, from brushing against
something. Her cargo pants had a leaf stuck to the pocket.

Jean heard the
shower running. Her mind wandered somewhere it shouldn’t have, they
were no where near that familiar. She could imagine Jo in one of
those shampoo commercials, the lather sliding over her satiny skin,
suds in her hair, glossy blonde tresses and perfect teeth. For her
it would be effortless, anyone else would look like a wet dog. Jean
chastised herself with a slap on her own wrist.

A couple of
minutes later a fresher, slightly damp Jo emerged from down the
hall wearing a black Adidas zip up and running pants. Some of her
makeup had washed off, but she still looked stunning, at least to
Jean.

The bright
flash of teeth as she sat beside the gardener. “Sorry about that,
I’ve been standing on the side of the road half the day pulling
people over, I felt like a walking dust trap.”

Jean
highlighted the mess of her clothes with hands that moved like a
game show model. “I have most of your neighbour’s lawn in my
pockets.”

Laughing
softly, Jo picked the leaf off her leg. “I suppose I shouldn’t
complain.”

The gardener
rattled the ice and the dregs in her glass, somehow it had
disappeared. “You look pretty good to me.”

Softly smiling,
it still alarmed her how warm the older woman made her feel.
Fingertips brushed her friend’s tanned forearm. “How do you soak up
so much sun without burning?”

Jean turned her
forearm over, Jo lifted Jean’s wristwatch slightly, looking for a
tan line.

Her words stuck
in her throat, her tingling skin overriding her sense of speech.
“It’s the Santiago showing through. I don’t burn. My father is from
there.”

Jo smiled
smugly to herself.

Jean saw the
curl of her lip. “What?”

The cop looked
back at the dark eyes and raised brow. “When I first met you I was
trying to guess nationality. I just do it out of habit. I had
guessed there was some South American in there.”

She caught Jo’s
tracing fingertips and kissed them, sensing it was all right to do
so. “Wondering about me even then huh?”

The blonde felt
a flush colour her cheek. “No. No of course not. I was still
getting over what your car did to mine.”

“My car? Do I
need to remind you who hit who?” Grinning cheekily.

“You got off
lightly, you should’ve seen the bill.” Jo grumbled, her face nested
in her hand.

“Well, you
could hardly claim it back I suppose. Not like a high speed
chase..my foot hadn’t left the clutch..”

Jo slapped her
arm with faux annoyance. Jean chuckled, drinking the last snifter
remaining between melted ice and condensation. She placed her glass
on the table, using a magazine as a coaster. A long arm reached
over Jean for the remote. A couple of clicks and on came the
evening news.

The light of
the screen cast a white and blue glow over her friend’s face. “Want
to stay for a little while? Traffic might thin out after six?”

Jean had no one
waiting on her, the horses had feed, and Jo was right, peak hour
traffic would be at a standstill. “OK, but then I should head out.
Got a couple reports I need to do.”

“That’s
fine.”

Her larger hand
was still resting on Jean’s forearm. The hazelnut eyes looked down,
a check of the blonde’s smile and she laced the fingers between her
own and rested it on her side.

“Jean?” A dull
hum of the news presenter in the background.

“Mmm?”

“This is
all..well..confusing for me. Thanks for giving me time to work
things out.”

A brush of a
thumb over her fair knuckles. “I think you’re worth it Jo. I mean
that.” Glancing at her face. “Besides, if I made any moves on you,
you’d probably shoot me.”

A roll of her
friend’s eyes. “That’s what tazers are for Jean. I wouldn’t want to
kill you.”

The tanned
woman scoffed. “Tazer? Christ. Well, warning heeded, no sudden
movements, no unwanted heavy petting.”

The hand
between hers stroked the inside of her wrist. “I suppose I could
handle a little heavy petting?..”

Jean’s brow
hiked up faster than an inchworm on crystal meth. “Oh?”

Jo batted her
eyelashes, quite pleased that she had the older woman’s full
attention. “You are a good kisser Jean.”

“That so?”

The blonde
moved toward her, her arm resting along the back of the sofa, her
other hand running idle fingertips over Jean’s bare shoulder. A
cautious lean forward from her guest, Jo watched her until they
were inches apart. The soft lips against her own were warm, tasting
slightly of the tart lemonade. A bare arm slid around her, Jo felt
her own hand slide around Jean’s waist. Her body wanted this, she
could feel her heart racing, chemicals pouring into her
bloodstream, pupils dilating.

Jean seemed
encouraged by the soft little murmur of enjoyment against her lips.
Fingertips found their way into Jo’s damp hair, Jo’s hand in turn
had slid up, resting only lightly, her forearm against Jean’s
chest.

Their kisses
were still careful, a light touch of tongues, mostly closed
mouthed. She gave Jo a moment to catch her breath, grinning. “Still
OK?”


A nod, Jo
pulled her closer again. A brush of their lips, Jean ducked her
head slightly, instead kissing her jawline, her chin, then the
sensitive spot below Joanne’s ear. A smug chuckle when she felt her
companion’s breath catch.

The tall woman
felt safe, it was her home, a breath of disapproval and Jean would
stop. Her old fashioned manners were kind of a turn on.
Respectful, considerate, sweet.

A moment of
pause. Jo turned in her seat, clumping cushions together along with
a throw rug. Satisfied, she leant back, half sitting half prone. A
coy raise of a blonde brow. She was curious to see how her friend
would react.

Jean cocked her
head to the side, a fingertip running up the long leg, stopping mid
thigh. She looked up at the grey eyes. A tanned hand patted the
back of the couch, felt around beside her.

“What on Earth
are you doing?”

Narrowed eyes.
“Looking for your tazer, your mace, whatever you plan on
electrocuting me with..”

Jo chucked
softly with devious intent. A curled fingertip, darkened grey eyes.
Both said
come hither
. This was a test of some sort, whether
Jo had wanted to test her own limits, or Jean’s the older woman
wasn’t sure.

The gardener
slid closer, mindful of the long legs that were moving to give her
space. She lay with her back against the backrest of the couch, Jo
almost curled up against her side on the cushions. An olive arm
slid under the taller woman’s shoulders. Fingertips brushed against
Jo’s cheek. A smile of reassurance.

Jean kissed her
again, with a little more fire, feeling the soft lips part for her
tongue. A tentative caress as they took a joint breath together mid
kiss. Gentle fingertips stroked along an angular jawline, down to a
curving chin. They rested on her friend’s neck. The creamy skin was
flushed a little from the attention. Jean licked her lips, moving
down again, this time half way between jawline and collarbone, a
lick followed by blowing softly on the moistened skin.

“Fuck.”

She nuzzled
Jo’s neck with her nose. “Like that huh?”

A slow nod, her
friend’s eyes looked a little unfocused. A larger hand slid further
around Jean’s waist, the other slid around the back of her neck.
Lying together almost hugging. Fingertips threaded through dark
hair. Jean squeaked with surprise as Jo captured her lips with a
fierce kiss. A quick breath in through her nose, Jo’s lips were
busy with her mouth. Her hand stroked Jo’s ribs, gentle circles
with her thumb. It hadn’t occurred to her that the blonde might be
kinda strong, with all that police training she still carried
herself like she spent all day in heels.

Jo’s knee
raised, resting on the older woman’s hip. Her hand moved from the
back of the gardener’s neck, where it had been twining with her
hair, to rest on her stomach. Jean stroked her back, nails trailing
softly over the dark slinky polyester.

Another round
of kisses. Jean almost felt light headed. Jo released her and took
a breath, trailing her fingertips over the piped cotton under her
hand. The older woman squeezed her gently, enjoying their
closeness. Jo looked at her bashfully, realising she’d made the
other woman equally flushed.

“You’re not so
bad at this yourself Jo.” A fingertip on the tip on her Nordic
nose, then back to rest around her side.

Jo rested her
head on her friend’s collarbone. There was lot going through her
mind, she wasn’t sure what this said about her, that she was
enjoying this so much. That it was triggering responses all over
her body. Heterosexual as far as she knew - until now. When she
stopped to think about it, it was kind of daunting. She looked up
at Jean, the woman was stroking her cheek, occasionally leaning
forward and kissing her forehead. Seemingly benign. Jo extended her
fingertip, running it experimentally over the defined collarbone in
front of her, she could feel Jean shiver.

“God Jo.” A
soft groan as she closed her eyes.

Jo felt like a
deer in the headlights. She was enjoying everything that was
happening, her body was certainly reacting with enthusiasm. At the
same time her head was swimming. She’d been having some pretty
intense dreams after their camping trip. Partly trepidation, partly
curious arousal, the rest a blind panic at the idea of being
judged. It was hard to reconcile that with the woman nestled beside
her, who it seemed had none of those fears.

Fingertips on
her cheek. “Hey, come back to me?” Chocolate eyes and long lashes,
a look of concern.

A soft little
huff, she hadn’t realised she was far away. Her mind had slipped
into anxiety, it must have been written on her face.

Gentle
caresses. The older woman was holding her, her arms had cradled
around her, the slow rise and fall of her chest underneath Jo’s
hand.

“I’d never try
to hurt you Jo. Come back to me sweetheart.”

If the crew
down at the station ever found out. Her mother’s judgemental eyes.
Oh God, Oh God. What would her daughter think? She wasn’t even old
enough to understand, but she would be, eventually.

The blonde
moved Jean’s arm and sat up, her long legs bent in front of her,
her head in her hands. Jean moved beside her, rubbing her back, not
sure if she wanted contact but feeling compelled to reassure
her.

“What’s wrong
Jo? Tell me?”

She sniffled,
biting back tears. “Jean, I’m..I’m sorry this is just..”

A blink of soft
lashes as dark eyes looked back at her, a hand still rubbing her
shoulder. “Scary? Confusing? Worried about people judging you?”

Grey orbs
snapped to her, before looking away. “Something like that. I don’t
know what..I want?”

A nod as the
brunette’s hand settled lightly on her knee. “I know exactly how
you feel, and you’re right. It is frightening.”

The blonde
looked at her with drawn brows. “How do you know?” It suddenly
dawned on her what a stupid question that was. Jean was gay. It
just, seemed as though she’d always been that way, she was probably
welcomed into the world and had ‘lesbian’ stamped on her hand with
a cheerful smile and tick of a pen.
Maybe it was because she
seemed so comfortable with who she was.

Jean’s brows
bunched slightly as she considered an old memory. “Jo, I had to
come out to a Roman Catholic father, and a god fearing Christian
woman. Both of whom couldn’t believe their little girl was a rug
muncher. Darling, I know how you feel. I was someone else for
years.”

Her jaw
dropped. A smile and a roll of the older woman’s dark eyes. “..And
this was before it was acceptable, well, more or less acceptable,
at least here.”


Her hands were
open in exasperation, and voice roughened with emotion. “But Jean,
I’m straight.. I’m not gay. I’ve never reacted this way to another
woman before. That’s what I don’t understand.”

The older woman
clasped her own hands together between her knees. “Jo, it’s just a
label, people use them all the time, doesn’t mean they define who
we are.”

The blonde said
nothing, but Jean could see her thinking.

A hand
carefully grazed her arm. “Is there anything I can do?”

Grey eyes
darted over her. She was torn, she didn’t want her to leave
thinking that she’d done some sort of emotional damage, and she
didn’t want her to stay either. She wasn’t ready for that, wasn’t
sure if she even wanted it.

She needed
space to work this out on her own, but she didn’t want to behave
heavy handed. Jean had been so considerate, after all.

“Jean, I think
I need some time to think.”

“OK.” It
sounded resigned.

Her larger hand
reached over the clasp the gardener’s. “Listen, it’s not like that.
I like you, I do. I just need a little time.”

A gentle pat on
the back of her hand. “It’s OK Jo.” She stood to leave, a quick
check of her pockets to make sure she had everything.