The Mechanic Pt. 04

She waited for the inevitable wave of distress, which didn't come. Completely absent was that iron fist that usually seemed to grip her throat and constrict her breathing when she considered being tied to one person and one person only.

Instead, she realised she was smiling. Could she actually do this? Have a relationship with Riley? Be with her whenever they chose to be? Be true to her? Did she actually want these things? Perhaps she did.

Something niggled in the back of her mind and caused her smile to fade. Riley now though she was a massive player and had slept with armies of women. It was kind of true but it had taken a drunk freak-out to show that Riley was not as okay with this as she may have seemed.

If Rowan wanted to make this work, she had to sort out this issue with Riley. Of course, she couldn't take away her history, but she could be honest and open; tell Riley what she wanted to know. She may not understand everything - much less be happy about everything - but Rowan knew it was the only way to even the playing field. She had to come clean, about everything.

Pleased with her resolution but suddenly exhausted, Rowan sat down hard on the sofa. She had to get some sleep. At least the sofa was long enough for her to stretch out on and it seemed comfy enough.

She found a fleece blanket, which Riley probably used for snuggling on cold evenings, and pulled it around herself. She settled down and arranged one of the big cushions under her head. This would work.

She'd nearly dozed off when suddenly something jumped on her with a satisfied purr. Rowan recovered from her shock quickly when she remembered Riley saying she had a cat. Clearly, this one had waited until Rowan was down to come and show that this was his house.

"Hello handsome," Rowan said, stroking the cat's head.

It purred again and pushed into Rowan's hand, before settling down on her chest and going to sleep. Its relaxing presence soon sent Rowan off to a dreamless slumber.

* * * * *

Riley was awoken by a gentle head butt against her nose. She groaned as this friendly sensation was immediately following by a heavy pounding in her head.

"Hey Chopin," she croaked, stroking the cat's head.

Her mouth was dry and her voice clearly needed a bit of a warm-up. She recognised the tell-tale signs; where did this hang-over come from? Was she that drunk last night?

Last night; what had happened last night? Riley struggled to remember anything. She gently looked around the room for clues.

The alarm clock told her it was 11.30 am. That was strange. Usually her cat would have woken her much earlier, demanding food. Unless he had tried but Riley had been completely non-responsive. In that case, he must be starving now.

"Are you hungry?" She asked the cat, pleased to hear her voice a bit more audible now.

Chopin looked at her with a neutral expression and certainly didn't act as if the world was ending, like he usually did. Had Riley gotten up to feed him earlier and come back to bed? If she had, she couldn't remember.

On the side table next to her bed were a glass of water and a box of painkillers. Grateful, Riley took some, carefully lifting herself up while battling the increased pounding. As she did this, she noticed a bucket on the floor. Charming. Thankfully, it was empty.

Riley's brain still struggled to comprehend the situation. Judging from the way she felt, she had been very drunk last night. Yet, she seemed to have been the most pre-emptive drunk ever; predicting exactly what she would need in the morning or during the night. None of it made any sense.

It wasn't until she saw her orange prison uniform neatly folded on the chair in the corner that snippets of memories started drifting in. The costume. The party. Rowan.

A smile started around her lips when she remembered snuggling with Rowan in an armchair, talking, kissing. However, now that the stream of memories had started, she couldn't stop it. Where the memories were trickling in at first, more now came rushing, flooding her fragile head with thoughts she wasn't ready for: her conversation with Megan; the one with Sam; with Rowan...

"Oh god...," she moaned out loud, as pieces of her conversation with Rowan slowly came back to her.

What had she said? What had she done? She remembered picking a fight. She remembered calling Rowan a player; telling her to go away; not wanting Rowan to take her home. She realised that Rowan must have done so regardless.

An image rushed into her head of Rowan taking her top off. She peeked under the duvet; she was still wearing her underwear. What did that mean? Had anything happened? She couldn't remember, much as she tried. This was bad. Where was Rowan now? She clearly wasn't in Riley's bed. Had she left?

Riley tried to piece together more of what happened last night. Megan not wanting to tell her how many women Rowan had been with. Sam admitting she'd slept with Rowan. Rowan flirting with Jordan. Her confronting Rowan. A wave of nausea hit her. She ran to the bathroom; the wine and the anxiety had finally caught up with her.

Flushing the toilet a few minutes later, she flopped down on the bathroom floor. She had been such a dick. No wonder Rowan had left. Riley could hardly blame her if she'd left forever. Just when things had been going so well, Riley had to go ahead and ruin it with her insecurities and invasive questions.

Feeling equal measures of angry and sorry for herself, Riley dragged herself downstairs. She couldn't face thinking about how to continue her life knowing that she'd chased Rowan away with her own erratic behaviour. She needed coffee; coffee would fix things.

The first thing Riley noticed in the kitchen was the half full cat bowl. Characteristically, the best bits had been eaten from the middle while some drier chunks were caked around the edges, suggesting the eater had gotten bored of the mundane task of picking up food halfway through. Clearly, this was a fresh bowl of food. Or rather, it had been a few hours ago. Who had fed her cat? Riley felt like a detective analysing a murder scene.

On the kitchen counter was Exhibit B: a random and seemingly unrelated collection of items. Riley first picked up the paper bag bearing the logo of the coffee shop around the corner. Inside were a croissant, a plain crusty roll, and a savoury pie of some sort. Riley's stomach protested at the fresh bread smell wafting her way.

She now saw a note that must have been obscured by the bag at first. Maybe this investigation would be swift after all.

[Morning straight girl. I hope you're not feeling too rotten this morning. I had to leave for work but I got you some breakfast, in case you were up for that. If not, I've also left you my personal go-to for hang-overs. Eat it all. Drink the juice too. Trust me, you'll feel better. X R.]

Riley sat down heavily. Here she was, thinking she'd completely ruined things with Rowan, feeling sorry for herself, while Rowan had done all this.

The mechanic had clearly stayed here all night; had gotten up ridiculously early to trek across town in time for work; and had even found the time to go get breakfast and feed Riley's cat. This made Rowan the best girlfriend ever, if that was indeed what she was to Riley.

They'd still not had that conversation and after the way Riley had behaved last night, she wouldn't be surprised if Rowan wanted to take things down a few notches.

At least Rowan hadn't run away screaming. She'd still taken drunk Riley home and stuck around to make sure she was okay; that made her a good friend at the very least.

But Riley didn't want to be just friends with Rowan. This unexpected sweet gesture only cemented that in her head. She wanted to wake up to sweet notes from Rowan and cute little surprises. Better yet, she wanted to wake up to Rowan in bed next to her.

This meant she had to find out where she stood with Rowan and, more importantly, she had to apologise for behaving like a complete asshole.

Their argument last night - or rather Riley's attempt at arguing with Rowan - had now mostly come back to her. Riley had been trying to find out how many women Rowan had slept with. She hadn't gotten anywhere near an answer, but her suspicions had been confirmed that there had been a great number.

In her inebriated state, this had upset her more than she'd realised. Of course, it would have been cute and romantic if they had been each other's firsts, but that was clearly a ridiculous notion when it came to Rowan. But why did it matter so much to Riley who had gone before her?

Riley pictured all the beautiful women who not only had the looks to lure her handsome mechanic into bed, but also had the skills and the experience to know what to do once they got there. How could she compete with that? She, who wasn't particularly pretty and certainly didn't know what she was doing in the sapphic bedroom.

On the other hand, Rowan seemed interested enough in her to have stopped sleeping around; or so she said at least. And she had certainly been keen to try the strap-on, as per Riley's suggestion.

That was meant to have happened last night, Riley suddenly remembered. She'd felt ready to take the next step with Rowan. Did she still feel that way? Did Rowan's history really matter? Surely it was the present she should be focussing on?

Riley's brain was protesting all these profound thoughts with a dull pounding. She still hadn't had her coffee but suddenly the distance to the coffee machine seemed the width of the Grand Canyon; impossible to bridge with her aching body.

She had to fix this hang-over if she was going to do any relationship fixing or apologising today. And there was no doubt in her mind now; that had to be done.

She suddenly remembered Rowan writing something about 'her personal go-to for hangovers'? Riley looked at the only remaining item on the counter: a jar of pickles. Eat all of that? Drink the pickled juice? That was disgusting. Surely, that wasn't what she meant?

Riley didn't like pickles on the best of days but the mere thought of it now made her stomach twist in protest. If only she could get to the coffeemaker... Maybe she should shower first. Or lie down for a bit. Or just stay here and rest her head...

It was almost seven when Riley rang Rowan's doorbell. Rowan should have finished work. It had taken Riley a few hours after finding Rowan's note to get her act together and start feeling a bit more human. With a few stops on the way to Rowan's, it had taken her a long time to get here. But at least, having walked here, she now felt mostly okay.

She hated to admit it but it was probably the pickles that did most of the curing. She'd tried to nibble one very carefully and it hadn't been as offensive as she'd expected. After two or three, she'd forced herself to eat the plain bread roll and had slowly managed to have a shower, make some coffee and tidy the mess she'd left in her hangover wake.

She had utterly surprised herself when a while later she'd found she'd eaten all the pickles and actually felt a lot better. Maybe she should put a bit more trust in Rowan's weird ways.

Rowan appeared in the doorway in joggers and a tank top. Wasn't she aware it was winter? Clearly, her body realised that now that she was standing in the open doorway; Riley could see her hardening nipples push into the fabric of her top.

The ensemble reminded Riley of the morning she'd woken up here, when Rowan had been very similarly dressed. She hadn't been wearing any underwear then, Riley fondly remembered. She wondered if she was now.

Rowan put the towel that was in her hand around her neck, which instantly made her look like the hottest person at the gym. Riley noticed her hair was wet and had been dripping onto her shoulders.

Catching Riley looking at her clothes, Rowan said: "I just threw this on. I was in the shower."

"I'm sorry I missed that," Riley responded, cheekier than she felt.

Rowan smiled but kept looking at Riley expectantly. Of course she was wondering why Riley was here.

"Do you have plans tonight?" Riley started. "Do you have time for apologetic sushi?" She held up the take-out bag.

"That's my favourite kind," Rowan grinned. "And I see you went to my favourite place too. How did you know?"

"Megan," they said at the same time. Once again, Riley had turned to Rowan's best friend for advice, which she'd been more than happy to provide.

"I also brought you this."

She gave Rowan the bottle of her favourite whiskey. She'd had to message her friend Ollie to ask for the name of the stuff. In the shop she'd been horrified at the price. How did Rowan afford to drink this? She'd figured considering the giant mess she'd made, it was more than worth it.

Rowan looked impressed. "Wow. Thank you. Did I forget it's my birthday?"

"I'm so sorry I've been such a dick. Please can you just forget all the stuff I said last night?"

Rowan frowned and seemed to be considering it. Riley waited anxiously. Surely Rowan would forgive her, or at least give her a chance to make it up to her?

"Can't do that I'm afraid..."

Riley's heart dropped.

"I'll definitely have to use some of it against you at some point. It would be too much fun not to. But you are forgiven for being a dick."

Riley felt a surge of relief and was suddenly lost for words. All she could do was smile gratefully.

"Are you coming up?" Rowan asked, already turning around.

Riley nodded and swallowed hard to suppress her nerves. This was going to be the first time she was alone with Rowan in her apartment since their first - and only - wild night together. So far, she'd been avoiding the temptation being here would bring. But tonight, she wasn't worried about the temptation. She was ready to give into it, if Rowan still wanted to.

* * * * *

"Do you want a drink?"

Rowan walked into the kitchen while Riley followed shyly. She hadn't really expected any sign of life from Riley today - let alone a visit - but the girl looked like she'd recovered fairly well.

Rowan peered into the fridge. She didn't have much. She wasn't prepared for visitors.

"Beer?" She asked, grabbing one for herself.

"Oh, no thank you. I'll just have some water, please."

Rowan laughed. "Still feeling a bit delicate?"

Riley nodded and looked embarrassed.

"Did you eat the pickles?"

"I did," Riley admitted, "and I think they helped."

"Did you drink the juice?"

"I considered it... but no. That's where I drew the line."

Rowan had to laugh again at her disgusted facial expression. "Well, there you go. If you had, you'd be right as rain now."

"Maybe...," Riley said, unconvinced.

"I guess I shouldn't drink this rather aromatic whiskey now either then?"

"Not if you want me to stay..." Riley's face seemed to take on a green sheen at the sheer thought of the smoky aroma.

"I can wait..." Rowan winked at her.

Now that she finally had Riley in her apartment, she wasn't going to let her go that easily, regardless of what would happen here tonight.

They sat down on the floor at the low coffee table in the lounge, after Rowan's suggestion that it was more in keeping with the Japanese atmosphere, and unpacked the sushi.

Riley had done well; she'd chosen a great selection, including a few of Rowan's favourites. She'd probably been informed by Megan on that one too.

"Thank you for breakfast, by the way," Riley started, still looking shy and guilt-ridden. "And for feeding Chopin."

Rowan chuckled. Of course the cat would be named after a classical music composer.

"You're welcome. He fell asleep on my face. I don't usually have that problem with pussies. Although he was very demanding about food in the morning; that part was familiar."

She grinned widely at Riley, who rolled her eyes and then smiled. That was better; she seemed to be loosening up a bit.

"Hey, erm, about that...," Riley started, clearly embarrassed now, "about last night... Nothing happened, right?"

Rowan had to laugh, more about Riley's mortified face than about the fact that she actually thought something may have happened.

"You mean, did we have sex? Before or after you passed out?"

Riley blushed profusely and Rowan immediately felt bad for making fun of her.

"No, nothing happened. I took your clothes off so you'd be more comfortable but I didn't take advantage of you."

'Despite what you may think', she wanted to add. She thought better of it; there were better ways to address Riley's drunken concerns.

There was a pause in which they both focussed on eating their food; Riley considerably slower than Rowan.

"So, about what you asked me last night...," Rowan eventually broke the silence, having decided to come clean to Riley about her history.

"It's okay, really," Riley interrupted. "I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business and it's in the past. It shouldn't matter to me how many women you've been with."

The way she rattled that off made Rowan think that maybe Riley had been doing some thinking of her own; that she'd rehearsed what to say about the topic. It 'shouldn't' matter to her; that was clearly what she'd been telling herself.

"But does it?" Rowan simply asked.

Riley averted her eyes and played with her chopstick.

"A little bit," she admitted eventually. She looked up and directed her big blue eyes directly at Rowan's soul.

"But really," she seemed to force herself to continue, "as long as you're not sleeping with other women anymore... You're not, are you?" There was a sudden look of panic in her eyes.

"No, I'm not," Rowan reassured her, still surprised at how little it stressed her out now that she was justifying herself to another person.

"There is no one else. Somehow you've made me lose interest in other girls with your voodoo magic."

This brought a smile to Riley's face. As much as Rowan liked seeing her happy, she knew the topic still had to be addressed. She could not have this hanging over her head like Damocles' Sword; waiting to take her down at the next drunken or insecure moment.

"Anyway...," she tried again, "I'm not going to lie to you: I have been with a lot of women. A lot... You asked for a ballpark figure, but the truth is, I couldn't tell you how many if I tried. I didn't exactly keep track... So, hundreds? Definitely. Thousands? Probably not..."

Riley looked pale and stressed-out. For a moment Rowan wondered if she would run off to the bathroom again. She knew she had to press on quickly. This was just the introduction for what she really wanted to tell Riley.

"I know that's not what you wanted to hear, but there's something you should know about that."

Rowan stopped, suddenly unsure how to go on. Apart from Megan - who had her own special way of getting information out of her - she'd never talked to anyone about this.

"What?"

Riley was looking at her with glistening eyes, waiting. Was she welling up? So much for it not mattering how many women there'd been. Rowan sighed. Here went nothing.

"It's always been very one-sided. I didn't want any of them touching me. I don't like other women touching me. I don't usually let them."

Riley looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"I used to be... Well, I guess I still am, mostly, a bit of a stone butch."

"What does that mean?"

"It's the opposite of a pillow princess," Rowan tried to explain in the simplest way possible.

Riley clearly still did not understand and Rowan was reminded once again of how recently she'd stepped out of her straight, vanilla world. There was no reason for her to be familiar with these terms.

"It means I prefer to be the one touching a girl, eating her out, fucking her. Rather than her doing those things to me. I don't want women to return the favour, so to say. I just don't like it. It makes me feel... uncomfortable."