She had been on edge since Edmund’s grand escape — quieter, more timid, more intrinsic. Gwendolyn hated it. She longed for the woman who couldn’t help but giggle when she kissed her, who’s eyes shimmered with such deep adoration whenever she was near. But Mildred was different, now; enveloped in a fresh bout of stoicism, and informed by how she had learned to cope with her past. It made her hard to the point of being brittle. And Gwendolyn? Gwendolyn missed Mildred — her Mildred.
“It’ll be fun!” She promises, taking the nurse by the hand and kissing her knuckle.
Mildred’s brow furrows, uncertainty brewing behind her honey coated eyes. She had returned home from work to find Gwendolyn darned in a suit, and a dress laid out for her on their shared bed; and not just any dress. The deep, crimson, red one that fit her waist and flared at her hips; the dress Gwendolyn had gifted her for her birthday; the dress Gwendolyn loved on her.
“I … don’t know, Gwen.” She admits, biting the inside of her cheek.
But it wouldn’t do, and she knew it. When Gwendolyn’s mind was made up, that was it. So, before she could meet the older woman’s simpering gaze, she sighed, slipped out of her hospital uniform, let her bun fall so her curls were spilling over her shoulders, and picked up the silk frock.
“Hmm, or you could stay like this.” Mildred whips around, mock modesty tinting her cheeks pink, but it only drives the smile on Gwendolyn’s lips higher up her cheeks. “Get changed. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
The women’s bar had become an almost weekly residing place for the couple. There, in the privacy afforded to them by women who they held an affinity with, they could drink without fear of a misstep. They could kiss one another, dance in earnest, they could laugh and feel normal, which was no small feat in the sleepy town of Lucia.
Tonight, the oasis glows with a familiarity that Mildred isn’t sure she’s ready for; but Gwendolyn snatches her hand, pulling her up through the space and to the bar before she can act on her instinct to flee.
“Whisky’s, Sammy.” Gwendolyn orders. Her jade eyes flicker with something devious. “Make ‘em doubles.”
“Doubles?”
“Tomorrow is your day off, yes?”
Mildred nods.
“Doubles.” She kisses her with all the passion of their first time, and Mildred feels her heart pound against her sternum.
Sammy pours the drinks, leaves the bottle, and winks. Gwendolyn brings her glass up and waits for Mildred to follow her lead.
“A toast!” She chimes, with the grandeur of a politician and the honesty of a school teacher.
“A toast?”
Gwendolyn rolls her eyes, a smile lilting in her voice. “Are you going to repeat everything tonight? Because if so, I’ve got a few things I’ve been dying to get you to say.”
Mildred can’t stifle giggle that spills over her lips. Gwendolyn nods, clinking their glasses together with smug satisfaction. Good, she thinks, that’s a start. “To us. To a fresh start for both of us.” She slams the drink back, hissing as the amber liquid constricts her stomach.
Mildred follows suit with less certainty. She sputters when she tries to swallow, and sends some of the liquid sloshing across the bar, and now it’s Gwen’s turn to laugh — a hearty, consuming bellow. And Mildred thinks she should be embarrassed, thinks she should apologize, but Gwendolyn’s laugh shoots warmth through her shoulders; so she pours them another round instead.
“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen ya drunk.” Gwen slurs after more rounds than either of them care to admit to.
Mildred quirks an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“You don’t agree?”
“Perhaps I’m just better at hiding it.” She says coyly, lifting her glass to her lips again.
Gwendolyn smiles. “Ah, a seasoned pro!”
“Something like that.” But then Mildred feels it — the warm, fuzzy sensation behind her eyes, the numbness to her lips and cheeks, and she’s drunk; really drunk, not just buzzed. “I love you.”
It’s so light, almost childlike in its earnestness and innocence. Gwen let’s out a ‘hah!’ And points a finger at her. “You are drunk!”
Mildred giggles again, swaying forward on the barstool and looking her square in the eyes with their foreheads practically touching. “Yes.” She whispers, and Gwen can practically taste the liquor on her lips. “I believe I might be.”
They linger like that, staring at one another, breath mingling between them, fingers intertwining. It’s Mildred who bridges the gap between them first, pressing her lips against Gwen’s and reveling in the taste of menthol and whisky she finds there. She cups a palm to the redhead’s cheek, thumb stroking against her jawline and tickling her earlobe.
“Come with me.” Gwendolyn whispers with all the enthusiasm of a teenager as she pulls Mildred to the bathroom and locks the door behind her.
“What’re you —“ Her words are cut off, though; lost in the back of her throat when Gwen pushes her against the door and kisses her with their bodies flush against one another.
And oh, Mildred feels levity for the first time in weeks, perhaps even months. She feels like she’s flying, like the world only exists within the confines of these four walls. Her fingers hook on the beltline of her pants, pressing into the soft bend of Gwen’s hips.
Gwendolyn’s breath catches at the sensation. She dips down to kiss the point when Mildred’s jawline meets her neck, receiving a hum of pleasure for her efforts. She smiles, and Mildred feels her teeth graze her skin.
“D’you wanna —“
“Yes, yes, yes.” Mildred confirms in a single breath.
And then Gwendolyn’s fingers are on the zipper of her dress, and she’s pulling it off her shoulders. It pools around her ankles, billows and flattens as Mildred unbuttons the other woman’s shirt to reveal the soft flesh of her chest. She bends down to kiss the skin below her collarbone, dipping further, further.
“Oh, Mildred.” Gwen croons, fingers tangling in her curls as she presses the woman against her breasts.
Mildred pivots her against the wall, practically falls on top of her when she trips over the dress tangled around her feet. They both laugh, foreheads touching, swaying with the heavy cloak of alcohol that’s making their vision dance in tandem.
Gwendolyn’s breath hitches before she can understand the sensation shooting through her stomach. She meets Mildred’s gaze, nerve ending tingling as she pops the button of her pants and slips her fingers below her waistline. The younger woman presses her lips to the nape of her neck as she continues to massage the little mound of nerves with her fingers.
Gwendolyn grasps the handle of the door with one hand and Mildred with the other. Her eyes close, head lolls back, breath rises and falls in her chest. “I love you.” She whispers, “I — oh!” She has to bite her lip to keep from shrieking.
Mildred stays where she is, fingers stilled against the spot between her legs as the last of the orgasm shivers against Gwendolyn’s spine. The redhead pants and holds Mildred against her with trembling fingers. Sweat coats them both, along with a deep satisfaction.
“Good?” Mildred queries against her temple, trailing a single finger up Gwen’s stomach.
Gwendolyn smiles, flipping Mildred back against the wall. It elicits a squeak out of the younger woman — anticipation seeps through her. Gwen kisses her firmly. “Great.”