For Eve Polastri, there weren’t many life problems that couldn’t be solved with a hot bath - and god, did she have problems.
For context, it was Saturday, and this was already her 14th bath of the week.
More specifically - she had one problem - a Russian problem. A Russian problem that was half her age, and extremely interested in married middle aged asian women.
“Fuck,” Eve groans.
She closes her eyes and sinks deeper into the bath - pleading with the almost scalding water to grant her a sense of peace and clarity.
Being the poster child for self restraint was hard work.
Her mind was a warzone. She was bruised and battered from weeks of flirting, naughty pictures and stolen glances. The expectations associated with being a faithful wife were becoming too much. She was overwhelmed by them every time Villanelle paid her a visit, or sent her a message.
Villanelle was winding her up expertly - like the agent of chaos she was.
Thank God , Niko hadn’t caught on. He was too absorbed in himself to notice that she’d been distant, choosing to spend the majority of her free time at work, in the bath, or holed up in her home office on her phone. It was odd reasoning, but Eve was trying desperately to protect the infinitesimally small string that held her marriage together - and she was failing, badly.
Her phone vibrated from its place on the sink, knocking her out of her thoughts - and Eve didn’t have to look to know who it was.
It was Villanelle, who she’d pointedly been ignoring for the better part of two weeks.
Their last encounter had forced Eve to the edge of a precipice she’d been inching towards ever since their first meeting and she’d be damned before she fell over without a fight.
She thinks that her neighbor - who had recommended that Eve hire Villanelle to tend to her garden, was actually Satan disguised as a tender and frail elderly woman. She also thought that her marriage therapist - who had recommended that Eve start gardening was a proper cunt.
Eve exhales, letting her mind drift.
It settles on pink lips, hydrangeas, sweat, and soil, and skin - so much skin. Lately, the subject of her daydreams have been singular in nature: images of a shirtless Villanelle on loop for days in her brain. Embedded there like a nasty virus. Strategically placed by the blonde temptress masquerading as her gardener.
“You need to relax, Mrs. Polastri,” Her voice echoed between Eve’s ears. It sounded like the prelude to a bad porno - but coming from Villanelle - it made Eve’s head swim, and her core tighten.
There was an instant attraction when they met. An almost cosmic magnetism pulling them into each other. Eve had tried to resist - for the sake of her marriage. But, Villanelle was persistent. Within the timeframe of a few weeks, she’d managed to burrow herself directly into Eve’s affections, and she showed no signs of relenting. Also, she was extremely beautiful and always knew exactly what to say or do in order to get Eve’s heart racing.
She made Eve feel things.
Things she should’ve felt for her husband.
So, after a hot bath, much like the one she finds herself in now, Eve decided to just let it happen.
She would let nature run its course and eventually, Villanelle would grow tired of her, and all would be normal and simple in her life again . After all, there was no harm in two consenting adults having a little fun. Especially if the fun was non-physical. It was mostly harmless flirting, longing glances and late night texting.
And that kiss that one time.
And the titty pics Villanelle sent her weekly.
Nothing for anyone to make a fuss about.
Nothing at all.
Okay, maybe not nothing, but ..
Eve was doing something that made her feel good.
She deserved that much.
Right?
They were having another conversation about Niko, and their hopeless attempts at marriage therapy.
“Come take your mind off of things,” She suggested, beckoning Eve towards her.
Eve sinks deeper into her bath and deeper into the memory of Villanelle’s topless body and perfect breasts pressed deliciously against her back.
Eve hesitated - she knew a bad idea when she heard one. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen Villanelle topless in her garden - her modesty preserved only by her black sports bra and khakis. (Villanelle liked to visit Eve’s house during the hottest part of the day). Hell, it wasn’t even the second or third time.
But it was the first time she’d asked Eve to join.
Eve liked to watch - Villanelle knew that.
She was content to work alone, hunched over Eve’s flower beds while Eve pretended to be interested in the book she was reading. Of course, Eve never even read the book, choosing instead the superior option of ogling at Villanelle from behind the polarized secrecy of her sunglasses.
And Villanelle never complained.
She liked the attention - and Eve knew she liked the attention. Every so often, she would look up from working - just to check that Eve was still watching, still totally enraptured by her. She enjoyed flexing her muscles and looking pretty for Eve.
“And how would it look if my husband came home right this second to find me ensnared in the grasp of our shirtless gardner?” Eve questioned from her chair on the patio, looking over the rim of her sunglasses directly at Villanelle.
“Dirty mind, Mrs. Polastri …” Her voice filled with mirth. Eve swallowed as she watched Villanelle’s torso glisten in the blistering afternoon heat. Her skin was just begging to be touched by Eve.
If Eve could slice her open and live under her skin, she would.
She folded. There was absolutely nothing wrong with Villanelle showing her a thing or two about gardening. It was a totally innocent suggestion. She couldn't keep Villanelle on the payroll forever anyways.
She moves over to where Villanelle was crouched in front of the group of pots.
“I’m uprooting these Hydrangeas, and replanting them in the bed over there,” Villanelle pointed. “You’re going to help,”
“When you uproot, you need to be gentle, but not too gentle. Let me show you,” Villanelle said, surprising Eve when she dropped to her knees directly behind her.
They’d never been this close before. Everything in Eve was telling her to run, but the messages from her brain to her feet were stifled by the press of Villanelle’s drenched body against hers.
Villanelle took her time, sliding her palms deliberately along the expanse of Eve’s forearms.
Her dirty hands leave trails of soil in their wake.
Eve shuddered.
She wanted Villanelle closer.
Villanelle smelled like salt, lavender, and lemongrass and as her body moulded perfectly into Eve’s, she wondered wistfully if their lips would be the same?
Villanelle tucked her face into Eve’s hair, taking an indulgent inhale. Securing a few tendrils behind her ear before whispering, “You have amazing hair, Mrs. Polastri,”
Eve swallowed a moan. There was quite literally a devil at her shoulder asking her to take a bite of the forbidden fruit.
Eve had always insisted that Villanelle call her ‘Eve’ - but Villanelle insisted on using ‘Mrs. Polastri’, she said it was for professional reasons, but it was common knowledge that she loved the reaction it got from Eve. Eve thought it was borderline sinful how the name sounded on Villanelle’s lips.
She took the back of Eve’s hands in hers, lacing their fingers and bringing their joint hands deep into the pot.
“You want to hold it tight,” She whispered - her breath warm on the shell of Eve’s ear, as she pressed her topless body harder against Eve’s.
The sound registered in Eve’s ears, but her brain was offline.
Villanelle was too close, and not close enough. Eve could feel the rapid rhythm of Villanelle’s heart at her back and the steady rise and fall of her chest.
She wanted more of Villanelle; Preferably with her position reversed and less clothes involved.
“Oh,” Eve thought to herself.
That was new.
“Are you listening to me, Mrs. Polastri?” She nipped lightly on Eve’s ear, sending shockwaves through Eve’s body.
That was new too.
“Fuck. I mean - yes, what next?” She stammered.
She was not asking about the hydrangeas anymore.
Villanelle moved impossibly closer, letting her tongue trace along the shell of Eve’s ear.
“Villanelle,” Eve sighed, and Villanelle used the distraction to pull the bunch of flowers right out of the pot.
She placed them down, but didn't make any effort to let go of Eve.
“That’s great for your first try.” Villanelle said, and that for some reason set Eve off like a switch.
She turned around, not really thinking it through.
She wasn’t thinking either when she crashed their lips together and let her tongue slide into Villanelle’s mouth. Nor was she thinking when she let her hands roam along Villanelle’s chest, giving her breasts an experimental squeeze.
She definitely wasn’t thinking when Villanelle gasped her name and asked her to do it again.
In fact, she only began thinking when she heard Niko’s car pull into the driveway at the front of the house.
Eve sinks deeper into her bath, submerging her head underwater. She wanted to drown these memories - or perhaps drown in these memories.
She was lucky that Niko had come home when he did that day, because she was way past the point of no return. If not for his interruption, she would’ve let Villanelle take her right there on the grass for the entire neighbourhood to hear.
That was two weeks ago.
Since then, Eve had resolved to ignore Villanelle completely. She couldn’t risk it. No more phone calls, no more texts, no more watching her in the garden.
Nothing.
It was for her own sake, for Niko’s and for the sake of her marriage.
**************************************************************
She knows Villanelle is angry with her.
She sees it in the way Villanelle starts planting yellow flowers everywhere - Eve’s least favorite color. She doesn’t sing anymore, doesn’t talk to the plants as she works. She works quietly and quickly, not leaving her usual harvest of flowers or vegetables on the back patio for Eve anymore.
It hurts.
Eve hurts. She missed Villanelle terribly. It felt like someone took a gun and shot her right in the back - or rather in the heart
But it was the right thing to do - for Niko, for them.
She would be fine eventually.
Ignoring the problem until it went away usually worked well for everything else.
It was fine. Everything was fine.
Until it wasn’t.
**
The doorbell rings, and Eve is jolted back to reality. She wasn’t expecting anyone so she just sits there, hoping whoever it was would take the hint and go away.
The ringing is persistent though, and then the offender takes to banging on the door.
Eve fumbles to get out of the bath and grabs her robe, hastily tying it around herself before dashing down the steps, ready to give whoever it was a few choice words.
Saturday’s were for peace.
She opens the door, and to her surprise, Villanelle is standing there with a pained expression on her face. She usually came on Sunday’s, so Eve was confused to see her standing there, until Villanelle directed Eve’s attention to her hands.
“I was reaching for my machete, and I didn't realize …” She explains.
Eve couldn’t see how deep the wound was under all the red, but already panic was beginning to set in as Villanelle’s blood began to drip onto the welcome mat
“Okay, okay!“ Eve interrupts, her voice panicked. “Go and sit on the counter, I- I’ll get my first aid kit and some towels.”
****************************************
The house was quiet, save their steady breaths. One after the other, as Eve assessed VIllanelle’s wound. It didn’t look deep enough to necessitate stitches, but still quite the gash.
Villanelle watched Eve intently.
Eve felt herself burn under Villanelle’s gaze.
Inhale.
Exhale.
“How did you manage this? Why are you here?” Eve asks as she dabs at the wound, careful not to hurt Villanelle.
“I was in a rush. If you read the five messages I sent you today, you would have known,” She replies, with just a hint of malice.
She steadies herself before continuing.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” She says softly. It was devoid of any edge, or bitterness, but Eve recognized the tone still, it was hurt.
Her heart constricts.
She hadn’t considered that Villanelle was emotionally invested in their ‘relationship’ - or lack thereof. She was young and ridiculously attractive - surely she had an adequate supply of women to keep her occupied.
“No …I’ve just been busy,” Eve lies, swapping the now bloodied wet towel for a cotton swab.
She didn’t want to have this conversation.
Eve can see Villanelle giving her an unbelieving glare from her periphery.
She wanted nothing more than to go back in the bath.
“Bullshit.”
She catches Villanelle’s eyes for a moment, before quickly looking back down.
“Yes, okay, I have,” She resigns, pressing the alcohol soaked cotton ball hard against Villanelle’s palm.
Villanelle winces.
“Sorry.”
Villanelle wasn’t sure which part she was apologizing for.
“It’s complicated, Villanelle,” Eve breathes, still not looking up from the cut she was currently nursing - it was a clean cut, straight along the width of Villanelle’s palm.
“What’s so complicated about it?” Villanelle asks like it's the easiest question in the world to answer. “You flirt with me, you text me all day, you -,” Villanelle stops, suddenly flustered.
“You kissed me, Eve! I can’t stop thinking about it.”
That admission makes Eve pause.
This entire situation was impossible. Married people weren’t supposed to have problems like these.
“I’m married! I can’t feel these things for you! It was a mistake!” Eve shouts.
Villanelle’s face hardens. She’s never seen Villanelle so discontented. It makes her stomach turn.
“I’m married.” She says again, quieter this time. “I’m just a married woman, going through a phase. It will pass.”
Eve regrets it the minute she says it. She rummages through the first aid kit for bandages, trying to cut the uncomfortable silence.
Eve starts bandaging Villanelle’s hand. Fully aware of the big green eyes silently pleading with her to look up.
Villanelle repeats Eve’s words quietly to herself. Her voice is laced with sarcasm and malice.
“I’m just a phase to you?” She chuckles - but it's void of any humor.
Eve doesn’t dare to look up - she’s afraid of what she might see. She’s never heard Villanelle so upset, so hurt.
She thinks back to every moment they’ve spent together and feels. She feels the emotion, ripe and searing in the center of her chest. What they were, what they were doing - it wasn’t a fling. It was so much more.
“I’ve pegged you for a lot of things, but never a coward, Eve. You cannot even look me in the eye.”
“Look me in my eyes and say it.” She commands, tilting Eve’s chin upwards.
Eve aches.
Villanelle’s eyes are glossy, filled to the brim with potential tears.
She couldn’t lie to a face like that.
“No, no you’re not.” Eve shakes her head. “You’re so much more.” She finishes, moving to wipe at Villanelle’s cheek.
“You deserve to be happy, Eve. You deserve all the things he can’t give you. All the things I can give you - if you’d let me.”
Eve’s breath hitches.
It was a bold theory.
A loaded declaration that required follow up action.
Eve indulges her for a moment, letting a small smile show on her face.
Villanelle gives her a once over, letting her eye linger at the miles of skin and cleavage exposed by her poorly tied robe.
Eve looks down again, her bravado suddenly gone.
They were way too close, and Eve was wearing way too little clothing.
Villanelle uses her uninjured hand to bring Eve closer, then, she runs her fingers through Eve’s damp hair, before letting them settle on the knot of Eve’s robe.
Eve looks so bare, so vulnerable, so soft.
Villanelle wants to taste her. No, she wants to devour her. Make her feel everything her husband couldn’t.
Villanelle motions to her hand.
“Are you going to kiss it better, Mrs. Polastri?” It’s meant to come across as teasing and cool - but Villanelle’s voice is thick, consumed by something desperate.
It sounds like want.
Eve laughs. It’s in direct opposition to her thoughts, which are all inappropriate, and involve committing adultery on this very counter.
She sets her eyes on Villanelle’s as she slowly brings the injured palm to her lips.
The smirk on Villanelle’s face quickly disappears and her eyes fall to Eve’s lips.
Inhale
Exhale
She brushes her lips lightly over the bandage.
Villanelle’s eyes flutter shut.
Inhale
Exhale
When she opens them again, Eve’s are waiting and beckoning her closer.
Villanelle pulls at the knot.
The cold air of the house sizzles on Eve’s skin and under Villanelle’s intense gaze.
“Is this what you call foreplay?” Eve asks cheekily.
“That last four weeks have been foreplay, Eve,” Villanelle explains, hopping off of the counter, and lifting Eve to sit where she once sat. She’s surprisingly strong for someone with one and a half functioning hands.
She spreads Eve’s legs and settles between them, letting her hands slide along Eve’s bare thighs.
“There are so many things I want to do to you,” Villanelle admits, as her thumbs wander closer to where she’s sure Eve is wet and ready for her.
Eve lets her eyes close, she wants to hear it all.
“If you would let me.”
Eve’s head swims. She doesn’t even care anymore, about her marriage, about Niko - she just needed Villanelle to cut at the all consuming desire building under her skin.
“Yes, yes, yes,” She breathes desperately, pulling Villanelle’s lips to hers. The kiss is desperate and filled with everything Eve couldn’t put into words.
Villanelle kisses like she invented it. It’s filled with all the passion of an enthusiast. Eve thinks about all the women before her. Were they ever privy to this version of Villanelle? The version of her that yearns, and cries - the version of her that asks for kisses on her boo boos.
She hopes not.
Villanelle moves to the crook of her neck, using her teeth to bite into her pulse point.
Eve hisses. “Fuck.”
“ Again.”
“Do you think about me? About this?” She asks into Eve’s neck. “Do you think about me while you’re with him?”
She wanted to know that she was the center of Eve’s attention, the center of her desires.
Her thumbs are millimeters away from Eve’s center and she moans softly at the liquid heat she feels there.
Eve rocks desperately into Villanelle, desperate for friction, and desperate for her thumbs to be just a fraction higher.
“Yes. All the time.”
Villanelle’s fingertips burn where they connect with Eve - igniting in her something that's been dormant for ages.
She connects their lips together and uses her bandaged hand to palm at Eve’s breasts.
“What do you think about?” Villanelle whispers against her lips as she rolls Eve’s nipple between her fingertips.
Eve wants to tell her everything. She wants to tell her about the nights with her husband wishing he was her. About the many nights in the bath moaning Villanelle’s name while she touched herself, again and again and again. She wants to tell Villanelle every dirty fantasy she’s ever had, but Villanelle’s voice in her ear, and her hand at her cunt stifles her ability to do anything but cant her hips and ask for more.
She’s never wanted anyone like this.
“God, you’re so wet for me.” Villanelle hums, letting her index finger trail along Eve’s clit before brushing at her entrance.
“Villanelle,” Eve mewls.
“Please.” She begs, clawing at the back of Villanelle’s shirt and bringing her into another searing kiss.
She uses her tongue to explain what words can’t, hoping that Villanelle could get the message.
Villanelle pushes her finger into Eve’s dripping center.
“ Fuck, Villanelle,” She moans, spreading her legs wider for her. She shrugs off her robe and wraps her legs around Villanelle’s midsection.
They stare into each other's eyes as Villanelle presses her thumb into Eve’s clit. The rhythm is slow, but where Villanelle is slow and teasing, Eve’s hips are quick and desperate.
“I want to taste you, Eve.” Villanelle reveals. She’s breathing heavily, and looks close to an orgasm herself, and Eve hasn’t even touched her yet.
“Taste me, then.” Eve consents.
Villanelle sinks lower, and Eve almost comes from the sight alone.
She indulgently licks and sucks at Eve and it's an otherworldly experience for Eve.
No one has ever fucked her like this.
Villanelle’s hands at her tits, her mouth on her cunt, her fingers curling into her walls.
It’s too much, and not enough.
Eve is close. Villanelle can tell by the way she cants her hips into her mouth, and by the string of profanities falling from her lips.
“ Come for me, Eve.” She whispers, doubling her efforts, burrowing herself deeper into Eve and quickening the pace of her tongue. She can feel Eve clench around her - her begging for more of Villanelle.
Villanelle adds a third finger
Eve thinks she sees God.
“Fuck, Villanelle!” She shouts.
She’s right at the edge.
“Eve.” He whispers, from his place at the edge of the entryway of the kitchen.
Eve hears it and she sees him out of the corner of her eye, but she’s too far gone.
She’s denied herself this pleasure for so long that she can’t begin to stop, she can’t begin to find the strength to push Villanelle away and plead for Niko’s forgiveness.
So she digs her hands into Villanelle’s hair and brings Villanelle closer.
Coming undone in her mouth, and on her fingers - while her husband watches in utter shock and horror.
It’s the best orgasm she’s ever had.