Impact 14: of The Gaze

For a moment Claire just stares at me, her mouth open and teeth parted. She was going to say something, or perhaps ask me how I am, but doesn't. Her expression is slow moving, like honey on a cake. The expression she had prepared - to accompany whatever it was she had planned to say - is warm but not happy. Perhaps she had planned to offer me fresh condolences, or ask how's my heart. I watch her features melt, giving way to surprise... little more than a slow motion tightening of her cheeks and brow. Finally something changes in the shape of her eyes; lashes droop. Almost imperceptibly, the corners of her mouth are beginning to curl with a naughty aspect.

I open the door wider and step back a little, letting her see me. I relax my jaw, releasing my lip, not closing my mouth, letting her see my lips, parted, tip of my tongue touching the edge of my front teeth.

Claire is in a little sun dress, no jacket. Her neck and chest are flush and shine from the heat. Besides her purse she has a shopping bag with two bottles of wine, and a tote with a mailing tube and some other packages.

She takes a small step back, even as she reaches out with her free hand to touch my hair, her eyes taking me in.

"Rousse!" she murmurs in appreciation, smiling widely now.

I twist a little to show her the little apron, I see her attention drop and watch as she sees my bare shoulders and cleavage. I watch her face as she realizes I'm naked underneath it, my breasts hardly covered. I twist a little further to show her the little gingham bow tied above my bare ass.

"Tu te fous de moi?" she whispers, laughing. "Arrête tes conneries!"

A door opens somewhere out of sight, but on my floor. Claire's head jerks in the direction of the sound and her eyes go as wide as saucers. Without looking back at me she pushes forward, forcing me back and herself in, slamming the door behind her before my neighbor can see.

"Sarah Beth!" she laughs, with a passable impersonation of my mother. "Look at you!"

She lets herself fall back, so she's leaning against the door, barricading it. Without looking away, she moves her free hand, sliding it up the door behind her, twisting her arm until she finds the dead bolt, and turns it close.

"You look like a different woman," she whispers. "And your eyes! They've never looked so bright!"

I start to reach for her bag but she stops me.

"No, let me look at you... give me a chance to take it in."

Taking hold of my fingers she leads me in a little spin, laughing as my ass comes into view again. I turn my head, so I am facing her sooner, making my hair swirl around my neck like a shampoo commercial.

"My beautiful Young Sarah is a redhead!" she exclaims, shrugging her bags off her shoulders and dropping them to the floor. She is laughing like a girl, her face radiating joy and delight. My heart is crashing in my chest as I finish my spin. Facing each other again, she raises my fingers, so my arms are spread wide for her.

"I will never tire of looking at you," she says, dropping my fingers. "Stay there, just like that."

Holding myself that way my heart thunders at her expression. She is staring at me with undisguised lust as she lifts her purse over her head, dropping it with her other bags. Her eyes are eager, almost manic, the movements of her hands impatient, almost spastic.

"I love you," she had promised me in my mother's basement, her fingers curling and uncurling deep inside me, our faces almost touching. "I'm so desperately in love with you, Sarah."

Claire takes me by the waist now, and staring into my eyes lowers herself onto her knees.

"I've been waiting for this," she tells me, letting her hands move down my thighs, her voice dropping an octave, becoming breathy, "having my lover this way."

Of all the things Claire has called me, she's never called me her "lover" before. As we got ready for bed in Buffalo my heart had hammered as we'd whispered our love plainly, over and over.

"I love you, Claire," I had told her, watching my words shine in her eyes.

"I am so in love with you, Sarah," she had breathed back between my tiny kisses.

On and on like this until she came, swearing she would love me forever.

"I will never stop loving my Young Sarah," she had whispered before slipping away into sleep and dreams.

"Lover..." I murmur.

"My lover!" she insists, jerking me forward so I have to put out my hands and catch myself against the door. Something about the way she says "lover" reminds me of how I'd announced myself "home".

She is pushing up between my thighs. I shuffle to stay ahead of her until my legs spread wide and my stiletto heels are off the ground. I am balancing on the balls of my feet, leaning forward as she reaches around my waist and undoes the gingham bow. Her hands move up my sides, find my breasts. Her smile is wide and warm.

"I want to show you what I've been dreaming of," she tells me as she ducks under the little apron dangling from my neck.

Her first lick is wide and wet. Her tongue feels cool against my lips.

"It's hot in the kitchen," she tells me, her hands squeezing my ass. "You're salty."

Her tongue fishtails wetly and she's inside me.

"JESUS!"

I begin to scratch at the door, and still on the balls of my feet, my knees bend - pushing my cunt at Claire's mouth. My arms collapse and I'm once again pressing the side of my face against the steel, but I'm no longer listening. I am deaf to everything but Claire's soft mouth. I feel my excitement getting ahead of me.

"Nnnng..."

It's been so long, so long since I've touched myself, much less this. I'm starting to cum already, a sudden wet heat rising up through my belly and chest.

Claire seems to feel my sudden crisis and is licking faster, trying to keep pace but all at once I stiffen and jerk, rattling the door. She rolls her tongue and seals her lips around my clit and begins to suck.

"Ah!"

"AH!"

"CLAIRE!"

The door is banging in its jamb as I jerk against it. Her arms are wrapped tight around my thighs, hands gripping my ass, our sweat makes me slippery against her bare skin. She is trying to hold on as I squirm over her. Finally my body does what she can't. My joints freeze, belly and legs flex to their limits and go rigid. I'm shivering. Teeth bared and drooling I look down at Claire. Her eyes are wide and wild, gazing up at me. Her face is wet, I've sprayed her. She looks astonished.

She holds me like that, supporting me and touching me with my mouth. I'm winded. Even these dabs of her lips and wipes of her tongue are met with small spasms of pleasure that leave me weakened. But finally my body begins to relax and she can kiss me and lick me again. My arms and legs are regaining their strength and I'm able to push myself away from the door.

I stand that way panting, feet spread, arms straight and elbows locked, hands still against the door - as if, despite being almost entirely naked, I'm going to be searched by the police. Claire slowly lifts herself off the floor. It's a graceful feline uncurling, rising up between my arms, her face close to mine, letting me see her smeared lipstick, wet chin, the cum and saliva dripping down her neck and down her cleavage, wetting her dress.

"You almost drowned me," she says, clearly pleased with herself.

"...fast," is all I can manage, but she's looking at my hair again.

"Too beautiful, Sarah."

She's touching a lock with a finger, tracing the wave of a curl like it were a line on a map.

I've let go of the door and am draping my arms over her shoulders, letting her support me.

"I can't get over it."

"You like it?" I ask, easing my face away from hers, trying to see her better, to gauge her expression.

"I love it. When did you have it done? Did Amelia go with you?"

"Mom?" I laughed. I was pretty sure my mother wouldn't approve. Her voice had been in my head the entire time I'd been going through all the steps - working to remember all the tips Melisahad given me - my mom had always disapproved of the "kinds of girls" who dyed their hair in high school. She hadn't even let me pierce my ears till I was 16. Kelly's ears still weren't pierced.

"No! I did it here, myself, this afternoon-"

"No! It's so perfect! I thought you'd gone to a salon!"

"I was so afraid you wouldn't like it," I admit, blushing at her compliments.

"I love it!" she says, kissing me again.

"I was afraid-"

"Ilove it," she says, kissing me, and pushing my curls with her palms. "You're so beautiful, Sarah... it really suits you - and with your eyes! I can't stop looking at them."

I can see her real pleasure in her regard, feel it in her hands, the ways she's touching me. I remember Melisa's surprise that I'd never dyed my hair before.

"Not even in high school?" she'd asked, incredulous.

'Why had I never tried this before?' I wondered, 'I wasn'tthat scared of mom.'

But I knew why. Because it would have been for Danny, and I had hated the idea of doing it for him, giving him that. He had always said I would look "hotter" as a redhead or a blonde. I had never felt he wanted me for what I was, much less who I was.

With Claire it's so different. I am so thrilled to know she's pleased. I can't help battering her with kisses. Laughing, she cries for mercy.

She excuses herself to use the washroom and I head back to the kitchen, retying my little bow. I begin pulling things out of the fridge. I'm bent over, hunting for the cornichon, when Claire announces her return by grabbing my ass and squealing with laughter.

"Maybe I should put something on for dinner?"

"No! You must not, this is too adorable! I love my Betty Cooker!"

"Crocker."

"What's a 'Crocker'?"

"Whatever Betty is, I guess? Here."

I give her the champagne to open, enjoying the look of approval she gives the label, and follow her out to the loveseat with the olives and canapés, placing them on the coffee table besides our flutes. I sit myself on the floor at Claire's feet, curling my legs to the side so I'm resting one bare cheek on the little Persian rug and the other on my heels.

"You are really too much," she tells me, touching my hair again before the serious business of peeling the foil with a perfectly manicured thumbnail. She takes the opportunity to pinch a lock appreciatively after discarding the foil on the coffee table.

"Une rouquine!" she says to herself, then turning to me, her expression serious. "You know I've never been with a redhead!"

She is squinting at me curiously as she unwinds and frees the little wire "muselet" that holds the cork in place.

"What time did you get in? How did you have time to do all this?" she asks, gesturing around the room and tossing the little wire cage onto the coffee table.

POP!

The noise catches us both off guard. Claire had been reaching to touch my hair again and was just as surprised as me. We both scream with delight as the cork ricochets around the little room and the champagne foam explodes from the bottle. I help her catch as much as I can in the flutes, but a good amount is on her legs, which I kiss at, smiling up at her as she finishes filling our glasses.

"We might never eat," she warns.

"I'll eat as much as you want," I promise.

It's a little nerve wracking being near the open oven in just my little apron, so I don't notice Claire until she is cupping my buns in her hands. Luckily I don't jump and the quiche doesn't fall.

"Ohhh, it's beautiful," she coos, resting her chin on my shoulder. "Brigitte would be proud..."

I feel almost deliriously proud at even just the idea of impressing her mother.

"It needs to rest, but I have a nice gazpacho if you're hungry?"

"You will make a lovely wife, Sarah," she teases. The first time she made that joke I'd blushed because she was flirting with me. We had still been pretending nothing was happening between us, that we were just friends being playful. I had blushed at the image of performing wifely duties for Claire - had shocked myself by imagining licking her pussy.

Licking Claire's pussy is no longer shocking or frightening to me the way it was, so now the joke lands differently. I still blush, but I am blushing at the image of this little domestic scene writ large, what it would be to live with Claire, to perform actual wifely duties, like cooking for her each night.

Her parents arrive in just a few days, and for two weeks we're going to live together. Much of the shopping I did at Kalustan's and Eataly was in preparation for doing just that next week. I've been fantasizing about keeping house for her, serving her meals, rubbing her feet after work.

'I want to be the wife,' I realize. 'Who am I kidding? I am the wife!'

The thought makes me giddy. I can't help laughing. Claire gives me a curious look but I brush past it.

"I also got us some wonderful treats for the cheese course..."

While we had seen each other in Buffalo we had not had a chance to just catch up. Over dinner she tells me about her trip, the sales she made and people she met. I tell her about work, including finally being able to tell SOMEONE the Jen and Kathy story.

"Ohh.. I'd forgotten about the goose egg!" she moans, but still laughing about Jen asking me if I was OK. "Jen actually sounds kind of nice?"

"She is. I don't understand what she sees in Kathy."

"People are funny, the things they want."

We clear the remains of our dessert and clean the kitchen together. I'm at the sink, she's behind me drying the dishes and having a wonderful time with my bare ass. We are sipping at our port and talking while we work in the tiny little space. I tell her about the burial and that I evidently said "fuck" during my eulogy.

"You did not!"

"When I asked my mom she just laughed and said 'poor Father Tanner was just behind you and looked like he'd swallowed a fly.'"

I vent a little about Kelly, but Claire defends her.

"I was that way when I was her age, I had no direction, no ambition, I just wanted to skate with my friends."

"You skateboard?"

"Roller blades!" she laughs.

"No!"

"We were so cool!" she insists, telling me about skating through Paris on inline skates with Benoit, their friends Olivier and Moussa. The four of them, making a chain, hands on each other's hips and skating in unison much faster than any one of them could have possibly skated alone.

"We were SO fast! You wouldn't believe it. And we were fearless, weaving through traffic, moving so much faster than the cars. It's a miracle none of us was killed."

I try and picture Claire as that girl, racing fearlessly through the streets with the boys. They must have loved her so much.

I tell her about the rest of my visit with my family, about what my mom had said, about not hiding fire.

"I was very surprised when you kissed me goodbye," Claire admits. "But I suppose your mother had already seen us sleeping..."

"I didn't do it on purpose - I mean... it just happened. I wish I could pretend I was taking a stand, I just couldn't help myself."

"I think that's nicer," she assured me, leaning over to steal a quick kiss. "And it sounds like she took it well, like maybe she suspected?"

"Yeah, I didn't have the courage to ask more, but for sure she didn't react the way I thought she would."

"You thought she would be upset?"

"I thought she would be frantic... hysterical... I mean my dad would have exploded, I never thought about how my mom would react if he wasn't there. Honestly, it was kind of strange."

"Good-strange or bad-strange?"

"Mostly good?"

The cleaning is done and everything is put away. We take our port and Claire leads me to the love seat, patting the cushion next her for me to sit down - no more sitting at her feet or teasing about my apron. She looks very serious all of the sudden and I feel a stab of anxiety.

"Is something wrong?"

"No! Not at all... there was something I wanted to ask you before I left, but I was too... I don't know... I was afraid... to put you off, but now..." she gestures behind us, at everything that's happened.

"Tell me."

"I will - I am - but I want you to consider carefully before you answer me, to think about it, because I have thought about it a lot."

"Alright."

"Would you come with me to Benoit's wedding?" she asks, and maybe seeing my confusion, jumps in again. "I mean, be my date? Will you be my date for the wedding, Sarah?"

My first thought is of how I teased Jessica the night of her bachelorette party. I imagine meeting her again and blush. I want to ask Claire about it, if it will be awkward, but stop myself. She is watching me so intently, looks so worried. Was this what was weighing on her before she left? It seems like such a small thing. I think of being "her date" to the gallery opening, of meeting Sophie Calle, of how much fun it had been. It doesn't add up. So I try to understand why she hesitated, what it is she's asking me - I'm missing something.

"Like Sophie's opening?" I say doubtfully. "Why do you want me to think about it so long?"

Claire's color deepens, but she holds my gaze.

"No, not like the opening, not like a game... I want... I want you to think about it because..." she falters, reaching for my knee. "I want you to be my date Sarah, in front of my parents and my friends and all their friends and families, in front of everyone."

I pictured my mother, how sad she had looked when she told me I can't hide fire. I hadn't told Claire that part. A pit opens in my stomach. Claire is watching me, she looks scared.

"As your lover?" I ask, feeling myself go crimson. I don't dare say it, but what I picture is the way my mother had been looking at me as I disentangled myself from Claire's sleeping limbs. I see the way Bo turned so I would see his erection.

"Yes," she says hopefully. She can tell I'm struggling. I want to explain, but don't know how.

"Oh," is all I can get out.

"You'll consider it?" she whispers. She's holding very still, her eyes darting around my face, trying to read my expression.

'Everyone will know,' I think, picturing myself licking Claire's cunt as she cums.

"Yes," I tell her, smiling for her, trying to reassure her. "I'll think about it, I promise."

"It was very scary leaving you," she tells me, her expression is so earnest. "I was terribly lonely being away from you."

"Me too," I tell her. "Let's never do that again, let's stay together from now on."

This makes her smile and laugh a little, but she still looks afraid.

"I would follow you anywhere," I pledge

She kisses me and I dab at her eyes. They are welling with tears.

"Did you bring me gifts from Paris?" I ask, changing the subject.

"I did!" she says, letting her eyes go very wide with excitement, and reaching back over the love seat for her tote.

"I brought you gifts from Buffalo!"

"Mmmm, how exotic... show me yours first!"

I turn to go into the bedroom, which earns me a wolf whistle. And get my things from my bag, holding them behind my back as I walk back to Claire.

"Close your eyes and put out your hands."

My hands are shaking a little as I give them to her. She's smiling, her eyes closed and brows raised.

"Open them..."

"AH NO!!!" she laughs looking at my school tartan. "I can't believe it!" she says, grabbing at me and laughing harder. "You're not going to believe it! It's too funny!!!"

She picks up her tote and rummages to the bottom, laughing.

"I was going to save this for last!"

She's holding up her school uniform. We fall on each other laughing and kissing in delight, but I squirm away.

"I want to see it! I want to see it!"

Her uniform is a burgundy skirt with a smock top, the shirt has short sleeves with a Peter Pan collar. There's a matching burgundy criss cross bow tie.