Carol took a metal cookie cutter shaped as a star and presses the dough with the palm of her hand. She makes a few stars and Christmas trees. She scoops and lays out the decorated cookies with a spatula before sliding the pan into the oven.
Therese was trying to teach Rindy how to play “Mary Had A Little Lamb” on the piano in the living room. Her fingers were hitting the notes slowly. The little girl had been leaning closely to watch. When the nursery rhyme finished, Rindy jabbed a finger on a low key that vibrated majestically and made her giggle.
“Let’s try now,” Therese said, collecting the child’s small hands.
Carol entered the living room to witness her girlfriend moving her daughter's hand around the piano keys, playing a hesitant beginning of a jingle she recognized and stood above them quietly until the song was over.
“I’ve just put the cookies in the oven,” she declared, cupping a hand on the nape of Therese’s neck, massaging the muscles with her acrylic thumb.
“Oh, good, we were just practicing the piano,” Therese shivered from the cool touch of Carol, moving slightly to look up.
“Pretty soon we’ll have our very own Mozart in the house!” Carol exclaimed, turning towards Rindy, who was already hitting more of the low notes with her fingers, causing a loud crescendo in the heated room.
They had their cookies with glasses of milk in the kitchen. Rindy broke off the half of her tree and wanted to help feed her mother, who playfully snatched the treat with her mouth and growled.
Therese was covering her face from being seen. Crumbs were stuck to her lips as she bit into her star cookie and felt the need to grab a napkin.
After Rindy was put to bed full of milk and cookie, Carol was leaning down on top of Therese upstairs, kissing her; squeezing the curve of her hip.
Therese was folding one leg to pin Carol by the waist, gripping the back of her housedress, pinching the tied knot she had done to her apron.
“Hon, you’re still wearing your apron,” she whispered.
“Untie me,” Carol replied coyly, rubbing her nose beneath the arch of Therese’s eyebrow.
It was not quick to do, but she had managed to loosen up the cloth apron drawstring and yanked the uniform off Carol, who was already necking her, tenderly. Lipstick had stained her skin and branded her that was she taken.