Salt & Vinegar Ch. 04

Now where the hell was I? I looked around and was stunned to see across from me the cafe that I'd seen Lena at this morning. Somehow I'd found my way to where it all started. Was it only half a day ago? It felt like a year. I hailed a cab and deliberately thought of nothing on the way home. No, not home. Lena's apartment.

The cab dropped me a couple of doors up. I fumbled in my pocket for my keys when I felt a hand grip my shoulder.

"Well, hello bitch."

I started to turn. All I got was glimpse of a dark hooded face silhouetted against the dim light from a street lamp before my head was slammed into the wall of the building. I felt the rough bricks tear up my face, my nose break and my cheekbone fracture. Blood everywhere. The pain was intense and I screamed.

"Thinks she can just take my girl, huh. Let's see how she does withoutherbitch then!"

Sharp pain in my lower back. And again. Dimly I hear shouts and curses, as if from a great distance. Footsteps, running. I slide down the wall as everything goes black.

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LENA

The door closed after her. I screamed obscenities. I kicked the couch. I punched the cushions. I threw the cushions. One collected a photograph which fell from the wall. The glass shattered. I didn't care. No wait which one was it? Shit. No, no, no! Not Jus, not that one of Jus! Shit, Lena, what have you done? And I wasn't thinking about the picture.

I ran out into the hall and flew down the stairs. I stood in the rain looking up and down the street. Couldn't see her. I walked slowly back upstairs. I crawled into bed and cried myself to sleep.

I remember waking in the night to put my arm over Justine. Her side of the bed was cold. She wasn't there. She was never not there. She was the warmth and comfort no blanket could ever give. Shit, Lena, what have you done? It was two in the morning. I rang her mobile. No answer. I left a message. And again every fifteen minutes after.

I must have fallen asleep again because I woke around five to the sound of the door. I dashed out of the bedroom. But it wasn't ours. Must've been John's. I sobbed with frustration and desperate worry. My mobile rang and I ran frantically back to the bedroom.

"Jus, honey, where are you? Hello?"

It wasn't her. Well, it was in a way. Mercy Hospital had rung to say that a young woman had just come out of emergency surgery and was now in a serious condition, recovering in intensive care. She'd had no ID, only a mobile phone on which this number had come up about ten times and did I know who she was?

Oh, Justine. My love, hang on. I'm coming. Please, hang on.

I was running like a maniac around the apartment grabbing stuff to take when there was a knock at the door. At 5 a.m., what the hell! I don't fucking care, they can piss off and I'll tell 'em so on the way out!

Except it was the police.

"Miss Lena Sanchez? We need to ask you a few questions."

"No, please, I've got to get to Mercy. They've just phoned to say my partner's there."

"Yes, we know. That's why we need to ask you a few questions."

"What? What's happened to Justine!"

"Miss Sanchez, we can do this standing in the hall or ..."

Reluctantly, I went back inside. I learnt that Justine had been assaulted and stabbed. Someone had seen the attack and chased her black-haired female assailant before calling 911. A set of keys with a tag for this apartment block had been found on the sidewalk amidst the blood. They'd been working their way up floor by floor when they'd spoken to John across the hall. He'd heard what happened last night. They had an obvious lead. I had no real alibi.

Perhaps my astonishment and genuine worry convinced them. Or at least they were prepared to be open-minded for the present.

"Can you think of anyone who may have had a reason to assault her?"

"No. She's an angel. I can't think of anyone who'd want to hurt her. In fact it's normally her looking out for others. Like last Saturday night, she ..."

I went cold. Oh, shit. Stacy.

I gave them what information I could about her and about Beth too. If she'd gone after Justine, it was a fair bet she'd go looking for Beth as well; if it wasn't too late already. It's what I would have done. Well, I'd made Stacy. I knew how she thought. Shit, Lena, what an absolute fucking mess you've made this time. God, Jus, please forgive me.

All I cared about right now was Justine. The cops 'kindly' gave me a ride to Mercy. I suspect they really wanted to keep tabs on me until they'd followed up the other leads. Conversations over the two-way meant that, by the time we arrived, they'd got enough to let me go with the usual warning about not leaving town etc. I ran into the hospital and frantically abused everyone until I found Justine's room. They almost threw me out until I calmed down enough to be allowed into the ward.

I quietly opened the door. She looked so small in the bed, surrounded by equipment, tubes and other medical shit. Her beautiful eyes were closed and her red hair fanned across the pillow. Her face was white and still. She could have been a marble statue. And then, I crossed the room to the chair on the other side of the bed. On this side, the statue's hair had been cut away with a clinician's surgical efficiency. The face was a crazed, swollen mess of pads and sutures. Red-tinted fluids seeped through dressings. The calm hum and beep of the machines monitoring her vital signs was the only sound, the only indication of life. I sank numbly into the chair and gently took her hand, trembling. My poor, poor girl. Shit, what had I done? Tears ran unchecked down my face. They weren't for me.

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JUSTINE

Pain.

I struggled toward consciousness, wondering if it was worth the effort. The blackness was so much nicer. Anything else hurt too much.

I blinked.

Light. White sheets. Tubes. Hospital?

Makes sense if I hurt this much. No idea why.

"Jus, I'm here honey."

Ah, Lena.

Blackness.

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LENA

Her eyelids fluttered. I leaned close and whispered to her. I hope she heard. I think she heard. I saw the beginnings of a smile at the corner of her mouth. I did, I'm sure I did. Oh, baby, hang on. Please, I can't live without you.

Why does it take something like this to make you appreciate what you've got; that only when you're about to lose the most precious thing in your life do you truly understand how much it means to you. And it sounds so incredibly selfish when you say it like that. That it's all about my loss and my feelings and my life. Never mind the poor girl, lying half-dead in this bed, who's only there because of your bloody lunacy and fucking pride. I want to tell her what an idiot I am. A stupid fool who loves her to death, but can't even think about how to beg for forgiveness in the right words and who's crazy enough to hope that maybe, just maybe, she still loves her too. Maybe? Probably not, and I so deserve that. Oh, Jus, I am so, so sorry.

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JUSTINE

Pain, but less. That's good, right?

I slowly open my eyes, getting used to the light. My body feels so heavy. Can I move? Hurts, but yes. That's good too, I guess.

"Oh, look who's awake. How you doin' sugar?"

A nurse smiles warmly at me and begins to check over my charts. I look around slowly. Half watching her and half looking for something else, someone ...

My eyes rest on the chair. It's empty.

"She's in the ward lounge asleep in one of the chairs. She sat with you for about 18 hours. Wouldn't leave. I almost had to carry her out. Want me to wake her for you?"

Lena. I smile. Ow, that hurts. Head shake. Hell, that hurts too.

So tired.

Blackness.

----------

LENA

I wander to the restroom. I look blearily into the mirror as I'm washing my hands. Wow, what a mess. The walking dead.

I find coffee from a vending machine and wander back to Justine's room. The smell of caffeine helps. It burns on the way down, but it feels good.

"Oh, you're up? You just missed her", says a nurse as she leaves the room. "She woke for a minute or so and I told her you were asleep."

"Fuck. I mean, thanks. Sorry."

"No worries, sugar. I understand. Your sister's getting stronger. Making good progress."

She touches me on the arm and smiles as she brushes past. The contact is just slightly less than professional, a little longer than necessary. I recognised the look too. OK, I know I look pretty skanky right now, but coming on to me when my girl's lying there in the bed, what the hell? Oh, hang on. 'Sister'?

"Justine's my partner", I say with a frown.

A quick look of surprise before the professional veneer is restored.

"Ah, that explains it."

I scowl again and walk back into the room. Jus is looking a little better. Less pallor, more colour.

I carefully lie down next to her on her good side and gently lay my head on her shoulder. Underneath all the smell of 'hospital' is the smell of Justine. I can smell her hair, her skin. I can just feel her breath; so faint. My Justine.

So tired. I'll just stay here for a bit ...

Blackness.

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JUSTINE

I know that smell. Lena.

I open my eyes and there she is; her head on my shoulder. Strands of her raven hair riot across my chest, the sheet, the pillow. Her hair smells wonderful. She's asleep. I hear her cute little 'wuffle' snore. I can feel she's clasping my hand between us.

"I love you Lena", I murmur in a broken whisper.

A tear rolls down my cheek to drop into that raven hair. I could look at her forever.

Eyelids so heavy.

Blackness.

----------

LENA

It took a week before Justine was conscious for more than a few minutes at a time.

It was another week again before I got her home.

Three weeks without sex. That's got to be a record dry spell! But strangely, I didn't mind. I was happily and completely occupied in looking after Jus. I discovered – possibly for the first time – the pleasure of genuinely caring for someone else. Preparing meals, doing laundry, fetching stuff, giving hugs, helping her bathe (not really a chore that one, God she's beautiful). The light in her gorgeous eyes, her soft smile and the knowledge that she was recovering were all the reward I needed.

I got a giggle out of her when, as a gag, I dressed up in a nurse outfit. Nothing like the uniform at Mercy though. This one would have given elderly male patients heart failure with all that flesh exposed. Jus appreciated it. And just like an old lecher damn if she didn't pinch my ass!

Four weeks and she was up and about. We spent hours on the couch. We talked more I think during that week than in the six months before. Really talked. Not just the chat of the every day, but the deep stuff. About life, about us, about the future.

I really didn't know how to start telling her how I felt; how appalled I was at myself and how desperately I needed her forgiveness. I ran through a hundred conversations in my head and none of them worked. In the end it just sort of came out. I don't even remember what I said. I just bared my soul, the tears running down my cheeks and sobbing 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry' over and over. The darling girl just took my face in her hands, brushed the tears away and looked at me – into me – just like she had that first day at the gallery.

"I forgive you", she said. "I always will. I love you, Lena."

And with those simple words I was absolved. I collapsed into tears again, but this time of relief and love. I gathered her gently into my arms and smothered her with kisses.

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JUSTINE

Five weeks later I was almost back to normal. I'd healed well. The surgeon and medical staff at Mercy had done a great job. I had some scarring on my face but it didn't disfigure my features at all. In fact it gave me a slightly rakish appearance.

"You could be a pirate, Jus."

"Arr."

"What the hell was that? That sounded like a rabid kitten. You'll have to do better than that, bitch!"

I could easily cover the scars with make up so they hardly showed. But I also discovered I could highlight them, outlining them and transforming my face into a half war mask which looked, frankly, pretty wicked.

I'd lost weight during my recovery and made a decision to keep some of those pounds off and tone up a bit. Trim and fit, I enjoyed my new self. I'd always had a fairly decent figure – not in Lena's league of course – but now I could easily carry off outfits I really wouldn't have felt comfortable in before. When Lena and I went clubbing we made a smoking hot couple and Lena had to warn off almost as many interested approaches to me as I did for her. It was a novel experience. Apparently low cut jeans, leather, flaming red hair and my war paint made a striking combination. I confess to a little mental 'fist pump' the first time Chrissie saw us out and her jaw dropped.

"Jus? Wow. You look ... incredible. Amazing. Lena, you're in trouble girl. You've got some serious competition there."

"I know. Doesn't she look fucking awesome?"

Somewhere during my recovery, Lena and I had achieved some sort of transference. I'd become a little bolder, more self confident. Perhaps my ordeal had been like a rite of passage. I wore my scars like a badge of honour and took more pride in myself as a result.

Lena had become a little calmer and a little kinder. More thoughtful and considerate. A touch less brash. She helped out more at home. It wasn't just habit from those weeks of looking after me either. She wanted to. Don't get me wrong, she hadn't transformed into a saint – there was still a hell of a lot of the wild old Lena – but somehow she had 'found' herself during my recovery and the quiet self assurance added a depth to her character which made her even more beautiful if that were possible.

I decided to get my first bit of ink. A tattoo which covered the knife scars on my middle and lower back. I'd been really fortunate – a slight shift in angle, a bit more depth and I would have been dead. I decided I needed to celebrate that. I got a full colour piece covering almost half my back. The words 'Lena aeternum' were fully illuminated together with some fine scroll and filigree work which incorporated some of the Japanese peach blossoms which I love from the tattoo on Lena's thigh. It was both beautiful and striking.

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LENA

I was stunned when Jus lifted her shirt and turned round to show me. Then I was humbled. Trust Jus to get it in Latin though. I quickly got my camera and spent the next half hour capturing her tattoo from various angles and light settings. Of course we then moved into bolder poses without clothes in which the tattoo was an adjunct feature. And then into stuff without the camera at all.

I held her close as we lay on the couch and I traced the lines with my fingers. Her smooth, white back was marred only by the jagged ridges of the scars, but which the artist had very skilfully disguised by using their texture as part of the overall feel of the work. Goose pimples rose on her flesh as my finger wandered around her back, adding another dimension again to the ink.

I gently kissed each scar and then each part of the tattoo. I worked my way down the curve of her spine to the small of her back, caressing her curves,: softly touching, caressing her with my lips and tongue. I rolled her over and began again at the top. Her gorgeous eyes stated into my soul as I cupped her face with my hands and gently kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her jaw line. I could feel her pulse pounding as I necked her throat. I gently nibbled her ear lobes which set her giggling.

"Stop that, Jus, I'm trying to do some serious work here."

Her eyes twinkled and she stilled. The giggles gave way to a soft sigh as I worked downward over her shoulders. I traced her collarbone with my tongue. I felt her relax and melt into me. I gently lifted an arm and caressed her all the way down, feeling the tone of her muscles; an outward sign of the new-found, inner strength at the core of my lover's being. I was so proud of her and so absolutely thankful to be with her.

Somehow I'd lost those jealous, rebellious feelings. I recognised and truly appreciated the rare worth of what I had with Justine. It was something very few people had. I was privileged to have her in my life and to share mine with her.

I stroked her arms gently then took her hands in mine. I kissed her wrist, her palm and the tips of each finger.

She reached up and stroked my cheek. I closed my eyes and enjoyed her satin caress. Then with a moan she reached around my neck and pulled me down toward her and kissed me fiercely.

"Please Lena, my love", she said huskily, "take me."

Permission granted; I changed gear. My touch was firmer. My kisses harder, then savage. I ravaged her breasts, sucking and pulling at her gorgeous dusky pink nipples, hard with need. She groaned as I explored her navel then licked down toward the delicate auburn down of her mound. She ground her hips upwards, urging me to take the final step. I tantalised her awhile longer as I licked the top of her thighs, working my way slowly inward.

She moaned and spread her legs for me; inviting, needing, craving. Her pussy was exquisite. I stopped for a second or two to admire her perfection. Her delicate folds of perfect symmetry. Wet, glistening evidence of her desire. I lowered my mouth and extended my tongue to gently touch her clitoris. The contact was electric. Fuck balls of string and kittens, Justine's pussy is my absolute favourite thing. Jus shuddered as I licked her. She grabbed my head with her hands, pushing me down hard against herself.

I devoted myself to her pleasure. My tongue and fingers exploring her wonderful sex. Her scent, her taste, the velvet feel of her, moist and warm. Without breaking contact, I moved off the couch to kneel beside her, changing my angle so I could trace delicately around her anus with my finger as I continued to devour her.

Her hands moved to my waist, pulling urgently.

"C'm'here", she grunted thickly.

I threw a leg up over her and she grabbed my hips, pulling me backwards onto her face. If giving Jus cunnilingus is bliss, then her doing me at the same time is heaven. I gasped as she began to match what I was doing to her. Touch for touch, stroke for stroke, lick for lick we worked each other towards a frenzy of need and desire. I felt the first tremors of my orgasm begin and with a savage energy I ravaged Jus, licking and sucking, thrusting my fingers deep within her. Her hips began to rock harder and faster and I knew she was as close as I was.

We came almost together. I screamed as my orgasm ripped from me. Jus sucked thirstily as my juices ran over her mouth onto her chest. She came a second or two later and surprised me with the volume which gushed from her. She wrapped her arms around my hips and hugged me tightly as wave after wave of pleasure racked her. Normally, I'd lick her softly down but this time I continued to savagely suck and lick, desperate for as much of her nectar as I could get.

Spent and exhausted, the tension drained from us and we collapsed to lie against each other. For a minute I couldn't move. Then I slowly raised myself off her and twisted around to lie beside her, my head resting against her cheek. She turned into me, wrapped an arm around me and kissed me long and deep. I could taste myself on her, my saltiness mingling with the sweetness of her lips.

Finally, we broke apart and she snuggled down with her head under my chin, her cheek pillowed on my breast. I felt her deep sigh of contentment. She loves to do this and it's so adorable. She just lies there, touching as much of me as she can and listening to the beat of my heart, feeling the rise and fall of the breath in my chest. It never fails to wake me in me a soft tenderness which is almost foreign to me. I was never sure whether she did it for herself or me. I realise now it's both. She does it for us. 'This is us', it says. Just us. Together.