Baker and Jones Ch. 14

Chapter Fourteen

"That isn't going to-!"Annette shrieks, her chest collapsing into the wall before her. Cordelia's body topples with her, sending the two of them tumbling towards the wood floors.

Annette cackles, though Cordelia recovers far more quickly. She grabs Annette by the ankles and drags her closer, pulling her knees apart and kissing the inner sides of her thighs. Annette is still laughing as the detective's actions leave her panting, and she enjoys the effervescent warmth in her chest, marveling at the majesty and the silliness of it all.

"It seems to me that this is working quite well," Cordelia's eyes dart up to meet hers, a twinkling satisfaction in the corners of them.

Annette tosses her head back and giggles. "I suppose that a backup plan is still sufficient in bringing me enjoyment," she concedes.

"Perhaps I intended you to fall all along."

"Then I should suspect you are a poor planner indeed."

Cordelia grins, gripping her fingers alongside the edges of Annette's panties. "Careful, Miss Baker. If my feelings are wounded too deeply I may give up the fight."

"Preposterous," she shakes her head. "You're too eager to see my pleasure."

Annette's eyes pull closed as Cordelia's kisses find her sensitive skin. She inhales sharply, her chest tight with the tensions of expectation.

"Then prepare yourself," Cordelia threatens playfully, "For I find myself quite eager this morning."

- - -

"It's more of a bob to the side than an outright duck," Cordelia corrects as the afternoon draws on. Annette adjusts the wraps on her hands and wipes away the thick band of sweat on her forehead.

"That's what I did," she defends, "I tried to keep my motion quick and only move as far as necessary."

"Still too far," Cordelia rolls her shoulders and returns her hands to a defensive position in front of her face, her knees bent and her feet light. "You're expending more energy in defense than you need, and it'll make it more difficult to counterstrike."

"Very well, I shall-,"

Annette yelps softly as Cordelia's next punch undercuts towards her stomach without warning, and she quickly leaps back to dodge it. The detective keeps up the pressure, sending another combo of strikes that glance off of the outside of Annette's forearms, narrowly blocked by an automatic reaction from her. Annette fights to keep her guard up, pushing Cordelia's blows to the side or ducking under the heavier ones; the detective is far stronger, and despite being larger she is significantly faster than Annette.

But then, Annette notices a rhythm to Cordelia's strikes, a sort of pattern of put-put-POH; two smaller blows followed by a faster punch. She takes a hasty breath and lets the pattern play out once again to test her recognition. On the next iteration, she makes an overdramatic duck on the heavy blow, and just as Cordelia's next light strike descends, Annette allows it to strike her side, pushing through the dull pain in order to make an aggressive leaping punch at the detective. She throws her whole weight into the attack, carrying her body forward to follow it, and feels her fist crash into Cordelia's ribcage.

Annette's weight launches her forward and she topples into Cordelia, sending them flying down to the makeshift mat they had assembled in the living room. They land with a heavy thud, and Annette's breath is pushed out of her from the impact; and it seems as though Cordelia feels the same. She buries her head into the detective's chest, her skin wet and slick, and savors the feeling of their skin pressing into one another as she recovers her breath. Cordelia had insisted they be unhindered by burdensome clothes, and so the pair of them wore only a set of wraps to keep their breasts in place, underwear, and a loose pair of trousers.

"I... I believe that means I win this round," Annette mumbles, "does it not?"

Cordelia's chest puffs out with a laugh. "I am quite sure you've just committed a foul in the sport."

"There are no fouls in self-defense," Annette grins.

"Then I concede the round," Cordelia's arm wraps around her shoulders. "With the knowledge you would have lost had we been truly boxing."

"Nonsense," Annette kisses her collarbone. "I was going easy on you."

Cordelia barks out a series of laughs, delightedly smiling at Annette. Underneath it, Annette knows there's a small amount of pride in the sport that meant Cordelia would not truly concede the point, but she smiles with the understanding the detective was content to allow her this tiny victory.

"Now..." Annette lifts her head up, sliding her legs more directly between Cordelia's and feeling her sweaty skin stick to the fabric, "I find myself in the position of having fallen atop a conquered maiden..."

"Oho, conquered am I?"

"Clearly," Annette smirks. "And I feel that perhaps I should take my reward with her."

"How could I possibly refuse?" Cordelia lays back, her face flushed with more than just exertion from sport. "I cannot, for I've been bested it seems."

Annette kisses her, feeling an excited hunger pour forth out of her. She can feel her clit straining in her panties, and the feeling of their hot and slick skin intertwining leaves her quite bothered.

"Then prepare yourself," Annette beams, "for I should like my prize for the duration of this evening."

- - -

"Come now," Annette restrains her giggles. "I am sure it looks nothing of the sort."

She reclines in the comfortable chair in Cordelia's study, her feet kicked up onto the table and her hands tucked contentedly behind her head. There's a small pour of cider in a whiskey glass on the desk, a necessary replacement drink for Cordelia simply to combat the habit, and she takes another sip from it.

"Miss Baker," Cordelia's voice chirps back from behind the door of her bedroom. "It has been quite some time since I have-,"

"Have no fear," she interrupts, "for I promise not to laugh!"

"Well, then I have little choice in the matter," Cordelia replies. Annette can easily imagine the begrudging and secretly amused scowl decorating her lovely face. Her chest flutters excitedly as she can hear Cordelia step towards the door, turning the lock to reveal herself.

"It's wretched, I know."

"Nonsense!" Annette chips back, standing to marvel at her. "You look positively lovely!"

"You're being too kind," Cordelia rolls her eyes.

Annette leaps forward and embraces her, then steps back to take in the scene once more. Cordelia sports one of Annette's dresses; a long cotton skirt with wide shoulder straps, positioned over a long button-up shirt. Cordelia does a nervous twirl, pursing her lips bashfully, while Annette beams at her.

"You look beautiful," Annette insists.

"It feels unnatural."

"I thank you for indulging me."

Cordelia looks away and blushes. "I find myself... surprisingly open to suggestions that would bring you satisfaction."

Annette raises a hand to her cheek and pulls her into a thoughtful and appreciative kiss. "Consider me satisfied." She takes a final look at the novel image of Cordelia in a dress and waves her away. "Now, go change, you've indulged me long enough."

"But, Miss Baker," Cordelia's lip tils up mischievously, "I cannot help but wonder if there is any other way I might satisfy you?"

"Ahh.... There is," Annette whispers back, pushing Cordelia back against the wall. "It seems it isn't only my submission you were interested in exploring."

"Well," Cordelia blushes, "we've explored that this afternoon, last night, last afternoon, that morning, and the morning before... I'd not wish to risk your boredom."

"You must really care for me, indeed," Annette marvels.

"I thought it quite obvious."

Annette kisses her cheek and slips away to recline on the chair at the desk, opening her legs wide and squaring her shoulders commandingly. "Then come prove it to me once more..."

"At once, Miss Baker," Cordelia grins.

- - -

Annette and Cordelia kiss for what feels like hours. It likely was, as the morning dew seems to melt away and be replaced by the early afternoon sun. The bed in Annette's room might be smaller than the grand mattress in Cordelia's, but there was a homely comfort in it, nestled up so close, just under the delightful window with the sun shining through. The cool air of a late autumn day only gives more satisfaction to the warmth between them.

The kiss is a gentle one, and carries on unhurried for as long as the two desire, wrapped into each other's arms and trading which partner would lay atop the other. There was such a comfort to it, such a restoration in it, and Annette knew well that it was an intoxicating feeling of lightness. It was a feeling of all the world melting away, along with all of its noise and complications and frustrations and history and whatever else it might wish to throw in the way of the only thing that could possibly matter: the sweet, unending, and delightfully timid embrace of a person one could not bear parting from.

There are times when Cordelia's kiss is commanding and filling. There are times when it is gentle and emotive. And still, there are times when it is receptive and grateful. She contained multitudes, and Annette feels blessed with each new window into her that she is granted. The walls had come down, the defenses shuttered. She gave Annette the precious and unfathomably valuable gift of bearing her whole, unguarded soul to her, and Annette resolves to hold it with the most deliberate kindness she can.

There are things about Cordelia she'd never noticed before, and possibly that Cordelia made great effort into hiding. When the detective was excited, she would often circle the pads of her fingers against one another, releasing the jittering energy. Her eyes are seldom at rest, constantly flicking around the room and observing everything that she can. Her sense of smell was remarkable, and Annette had blushed fiercely each time Cordelia revealed a new note of scent buried underneath Annette's normal odor. Recently, the detective had decided there was just a hint of the fragrant bark of an olive tree mixed in, and Annette had giggled with her for hours about it.

Their kiss pauses and restarts every-so-often, calmly retreating into the feeling of simply holding one another. Annette's mind feels so free and gentle against the soft warmth of Cordelia's body. Gone were her incessant ruminations about her guilt or shame. Gone was the feeling of panic that they might be found out at any moment. And gone was the fear that perhaps she was committing the gravest error of all: fooling herself into believing she deserved such intimacy and kindness. Cordelia has a remarkable way of holding her by the cheek, staring deep into her eyes, and professing to the majesty of her person. She speaks with such adoring conviction that it soon after becomes impossible to believe anything else might be true.

"I..." Annette begins softly, burying her face into Cordelia's neck.

"I'm well aware, Miss Baker," Cordelia runs her hands through Annette's hair, stroking the back of her head with a sweet tenderness.

"I need to say it, I think."

Cordelia kisses her temple. "Then I shall listen with great rapture."

"I love you, Cordelia."

"And I, you, Annette."

"I love you so ardently," she sighs, squeezing the detective tightly.

Cordelia exhales a contented breath. "I have loved you from the moment I first laid eyes on you."

"Liar," Annette puffs, blowing air against her cheek. "You told me you first thought you loved me the night I stole Bembrook's letter and your clothes."

"Perhaps I'd like it to be true, then," Cordelia admits, her voice sweet and filled with longing, "that I knew instinctively you were all that I desired when your lovely personage first arrived at my door."

"I wasn't ready then," Annette says, almost as though forgiving her.

"I suppose I wasn't either," Cordelia rolls onto her side, meeting Annette's gaze. "Being with you now... well, it feels as though every moment before was simply a waste of my time."

Annette kisses her. "I don't think that-,"

"Of course it wasn't a waste," Cordelia smirks and completes. She runs her thumb across Annette's cheek. "I'm sure I could not be this person you so cherish had it not been for all that came before. But, it feels good to say."

"It feels good to hear," Annette affirms.

"If all the world vanished today, leaving only you and I behind..." Cordelia lays back and stares at the ceiling, her voice full of promise and yearning. "I think it would be enough. I think I would still be content."

"You have great faith in my untiring ability to entertain your whimsy," she jokes.

Cordelia laughs. "I suppose we'd have to learn to garden. We'd need to eat."

"I cannot, from any dark place in my mind, conjure up the image of you farming for a living," Annette teases.

"Well of course you would do the gardening," Cordelia supplies quickly, "I would have to be our hunter."

"Tell yourself that, if you must."

"I'd garden with you," she concedes, "if only to watch your gorgeous hands work so meticulously and effortlessly."

"All your talk of agriculture is making me hungry."

"Then allow me to sweep you away for an early dinner," Cordelia decides, slowly rising and stretching comfortably.

"I believe it's simply called 'lunch.'"

"I will carry you away to it nonetheless," she boasts.

Annette wraps her arms around the detective and pulls her back down, "No!" She giggles. "I'm not done laying with you."

"The day does have to begin sometime, dear Annette," Cordelia indulges her, slipping back under the covers to join her. "But I suppose beginning a half hour from now works just as well."

Annette's stomach gurgles loudly in protest, and the two of them laugh and relent from the task of ignoring the day. They shuffle out of bed and Cordelia retreats to her room to quickly get dressed, while Annette does the same, watching the detective leave and feeling a deep comfort in her person. She throws on her dress and does her best to make her short hair less disheveled, descending downstairs to wait for Cordelia. Harold sits patiently on a small perch by the dining room window, and Annette places a dish of seeds out for him and affectionately strokes the feathers on his cheek.

This is your life, a little voice inside celebrates, and Annette turns to gaze around 167th Mill Street with an appreciation to call it home. It was her home. She had a home. The thought bounces contentedly inside of her.

Cordelia smiles as she sees Annette, flicking the straps of her suspenders to get her attention and strutting down the stairs. She throws on her long winter trench coat and a matching gray hat, gesturing for Annette to lead the way. She places a quick kiss on Cordelia's cheek, retrieves her own coat, and prances out onto the steps in the cold afternoon. She is just about to make a quick remark about the weather, when a voice stops her in her tracks.

"Miss Baker."

Annette freezes, recognizing the raspy and scornful tone instantly, and feels herself halt in place. "Sister Pullwater," she croaks, her stomach dropping with fear of revealing anything with Cordelia. "How lovely to-,"

"Don't lie to me, girl," the nun wags a finger. She stands just a little ways away from the front porch, and seems as though she was second away from knocking at their door.

"Why are you here?"

Cordelia steps forth, pushing past Annette and quickly placing herself between the two of them, acting as a human shield for her. "Sister Pullwater," she greets, her arms tightly placed behind her back. "Have you come calling for the sole purpose of rediscovering that you are unwelcome in my home?"

"I've come to speak with Miss Baker," she declares.

Cordelia nods briskly. "Then I shall answer your request straightaway: no."

"Miss Jones," Annette says behind her, "I'm sure it will be-,"

"I'm afraid we are about to be off on important business, dear Sister," the detective continues, "and cannot be disturbed from it."

"Father Thomas has passed," Pullwater says quickly, her eyes fixed upon Annette.

Annette is surprised to find herself concerned by the statement. "What? When?"

"Two nights ago," she answers, stepping to the side to speak directly to the servant. Pullwater clears her throat and adds, "Having lived under his direction at the orphanage, I felt you deserved to know."

"Thank you for telling me," Annette replies quietly.

"Indeed," Cordelia steps forth. "Now, we must be off."

Cordelia leads Annette forward, walking past the Sister and beginning their journey down the street. But, before they've gone more than a few steps, Pullwater calls out to them.

"Father Billings has asked to speak with you."

Cordelia turns sharply. "All business regarding the return of the contract has been settled."

"Not you," Pullwater grumbles. "Miss Baker."

"Why? Annette furrows her brow.

"Is it not enough that I ask?" The nun frowns, her voice shaking and hoarse. "I recall a time when you trusted me to watch over you."

Cordelia tosses a concerned look over at Annette and steps between them again. "Miss Baker and I must be-,"

"A moment, Miss Jones," Annette sighs. "If I may."

The detective's eyes carefully dart over Annette, trying to determine how serious she was. She purses her lips, but supplies a curt nod and paces away to give them privacy. Annette shakes her head as Pullwater walks over to her.

"I guided you," Pullwater lectures. "I supported you. I protected you from the scorn of all those who wished to deny you your rebirth."

Annette ignores her guilting. "Why does Simon wish to speak with me?"

"He is taking the passing of Father Thomas quite poorly."

"So comfort him," she shrugs.

Pullwater is quiet for a moment, and when she speaks again her voice is low and measured, as though concerned she might be overheard. "I believe the pressures of presiding over the congregation are frightening him... I worry he will not last without intervention. If he leaves, there is no one to hold mass."

"Pity."

"Mind your tongue," the Sister scolds. "Without mass we have no tithe. Without a tithe we have little to support the orphanage with. It will take ages to replace him. Think of the children, Miss Baker. Think of Judith."

"And you believe I could somehow prevent this?"

"He asked for you by name."

Annette exhales a tense breath. "I'm not sure that I can-,"

"Please," Pullwater pleads, clasping her hands together tightly. "Please. I beg of you."

Annette frowns, suspicious. "If this is some ploy to convince me to marry him-,"

"It isn't!" She hisses. "You've made your hostility to that suggestion quite clear, and while I wish you would come to your senses and-,"

"I have a condition," the servant interrupts.

Pullwater pauses apprehensively. "... tell me."

"I want to see Judith as well."

"I cannot simply ignore your transgress-,"

"Good day, Sister," Annette smiles, moving to walk away.

"Fine!" Pullwater grabs her hand and halts her, her face contorted with frustration and acquiescence. "You may speak with her."

"And not just this once," Annette adds on. "I want to be able to visit her as often as I wish, provided she allows it."

Pullwater's eyes peer into her harshly. "You are truly willing to hold my needs hostage for your own gain?"

"You're no victim," Annette cuts back. "These are my terms."

"... you may visit Judith as much as you wish," the sister relents. "If she agrees."

Annette nods, strolling back over to Cordelia, who watches the streets quietly in the cool afternoon sun. Her hands are still tucked behind her back, and her posture is frozen in such a way that Annette knows she was making a great effort to eavesdrop.