It was another chirpy morning. Just as it had been for the last week. And the one before that. Mr Methyd was reading his newspaper on the balcony, a brand new cigar loosely hanging from his thin lips. Every so often, he’d clear his throat, lick the pad of his thumb, and flip the page.
His wife stood metres behind, trapped in the confines of their little kitchen; ‘Crystal’s second bedroom’ - as Mr Methyd would call it. The mere thought of her husband sickened Crystal Methyd as she dried a plate with a tea towel. She was so aggressive with her movements that her hands would grow calluses if she continued. Her jaw was clenched as she stared at the back of the man’s balding head.
She had been plodding her way through a particular stack of plates and bowls for the majority of the afternoon. Typically, more than half of the dirty dishes belonged to her husband. Crystal wouldn’t dare make a mess in her house.
The two of them met when she was eighteen and he was thirty-seven. Her parents had deemed the man the perfect fit for the blonde. Crystal swore they were out of their minds, but she didn’t really have the option of backing out of it. They were married within a month.
She was twenty-four now, and he was pushing forty-four, but the dynamic somehow didn’t alarm anyone in their small suburbia. She had lived her teens relentlessly in New York, a free woman, happy. It had been years since they left. Her husband had proposed the idea of moving to Missouri, where he was born.
At first, Crystal was marginally excited about the move. She was interested in psychology, and after hearing that professor Bill Masters and medical student Virginia Johnson were studying human sexual response from a non-Christian viewpoint, Crystal was eager to meet them.
Little did she know when her husband said Missouri, he didn’t mean St. Louis - he meant the middle of fucking nowhere. She had left some people she really cared about behind, and it was all for nothing.
“Crys?” her husband called to her, making her halt her movements. She hated when he called her that.
“Yes, darling?” she replied, making her voice sound sickeningly sweet and feminine - just how he liked.
“Can you get the door? I’m going for a nap.”
She hadn’t even noticed the initial knocking but was drawn out of her angered daze when the knocking became more aggressive. She dried her hands on her apron before untying it and tossing it over a chair, watching as her husband ascended up the staircase to his bedroom.
Padding through to the foyer, she fixed a few curls that had fallen out of her bun. Her husband preferred when her hair was straight and pulled back, and she didn’t wasn’t in the mood for being scolded. She quickened her pace when the knocks became even more forceful, finally opening the door to a tall, young woman.
“Avon calling!”
The average Avon girl either looked like highschool dropout or a wrinkled pensioner. The lady that greeted Crystal at the door was a nice surprise. She was all long legs and ginger curls, with the odd streak of strawberry blonde running through.
“God, you’re so pretty already! You don’t even need makeup, but would you like to try some of our new products today?”
Crystal felt her lips curl into a smirk as she looked the girl up and down. She looked Crystal’s age - maybe a year or two her junior. She was breathtaking, and although her statement was all part of her little script, it still caused all Crystal’s blood to rush to her cheeks.
“Why thank you, darling, but I wouldn’t mind testing a few samples! Feel free to come inside-.” the older woman smiled.
“-Now, my husband is taking a nap so we might have to keep it down, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a lovely lady like you in our kitchen.”
The girl chuckled and scratched the side of her head gently as she stepped into the Methyd’s home. If Crystal hadn’t been staring at her so intently, she would’ve missed how she gulped after the blonde’s compliment.
“I’ll try my best. Oh and- I'm Gigi, by the way,” she said sheepishly as Crystal led her through the house, to the dining room and kitchenette. She looked like she was carrying quite a weight with her tote bag of cosmetic products, so Crystal took it off her and placed it down without a word.
“I’m Crystal-.” she grinned, pulling out a chair for the girl.
“-It’s a pleasure to meet you, miss Gigi.”
Gigi took a seat and began to unpack her bag full of small boxes. There was a small moisturiser set, a selection of bright-coloured cream eyeshadows, a blush palette and a stray tube of mascara.
“Gonna make me look like Twiggy, hm?” joked Crystal, admiring a baby-blue cream eyeshadow that had been placed in front of her.
“Do you like the blue?”
“Mhm. Sure do.”
“You wanna try it?”
“Will it cost me?”
“Well- only if you really like it.”
“I’m sure I will.”
Gigi bit her inner cheeks, containing a wide grin as she continued to unpack her bags.
“Would you like me to get you a glass of rosé wine while you get ready?” asked Crystal.
“-Are you even old enough to drink?”
The redhead rolled her eyes playfully, “Haha. You humour me. I’m twenty-three! And yes, I would love that.”
Crystal liked her sass. She liked the way she bit back at her. It made her feel warm. It reminded her of the girl she was back in New York City. She nodded and walked to the wine rack, before grabbing two glasses and filling them three-quarters full.
“Have you ever had rosé?”
Gigi nodded, “Yes, but nothing like the expensive kind you just poured.”
“Nothing but the best in the Methyd household!”
The redhead snorted, “Your name is Crystal Methyd?”
The blonde faux-gasped, placing the two glasses down on the table, “And why would you know what that is, madame?”
“I told you! I’m not a child-.” Gigi sighed, picking up her glass and bringing it to her pink lips.
“-I won’t have much. I have to drive.”
“You can drive?”
“Well. It’s a scooter, not a car. But yes, I can drive.”
Crystal hummed, impressed, before eyeing up the makeup once more, “So. Are you gonna do my makeup or not? You’re not being very professional right now, Gigi.”
The redhead tensed, the little ego she had going on deflating for a moment. She thought for a second that she had misread her client, but Crystal just chuckled.
“Oh my goodness, don’t look so worried-.” she squealed.
“-It’s nice to talk! My husband doesn’t really let me leave the house so I don’t have any lady friends. It’s a shame, really. I love lady talk.”
Gigi bit her lip, looking down at Crystal‘s hand and furrowing her brows at the absence of a wedding ring. The blonde’s hands were soft, tanned, and slightly wrinkled. They were tapping against the polished wooden table, awaiting an answer from Gigi.
“Me too! Yeah. I love lady talk.”
Gigi shifted her seat sideways so her and Crystal’s knees were almost brushing. She justified the movement by explaining how it would make it easier to apply the product, but Crystal knew that there was no reason for her to be as close to her as she was. She couldn’t complain though.
It was cute, the way Gigi could become nervous under her gaze. It was even cuter when Gigi pretended she was confident. Crystal had heard stories about housewives having affairs with their resident Avon ladies, just to spice up their idle lives.
“So first I’m going to go in with this Clarins moisturiser. It doesn’t sting sensitive skin. It’ll just give you a nice glow!”
Crystal smiled and nodded, though she couldn’t give less of a shit about what the younger woman put on her face - she just wanted to look at her.
“Are your hands clean, big girl?” the blonde whispered as Gigi squeezed the product onto the tips of her fingers.
“Clean as a whistle!”
The way Gigi reddened beneath her skin didn’t go unnoticed to Crystal, but she didn’t have the chance to dwell on it before soft hands were prodding at her face. She flinched at the cold product and the low temperature of Gigi’s hands but eventually felt comfort in the feeling of the redhead’s soft youthful palms against her face. She was gentle, but in the areas where Crystal’s skin was fuller, she would press down slightly. The action made the blonde gasp, almost.
“Am I too rough?” Gigi whispered, the warmth of her breath hitting Crystal’s face.
Go rougher on me, was what Crystal wanted to say, but instead, she shook her head with a small smile.
The two of them were so close. So close that Crystal could see the very faded freckles that dusted Gigi’s nose, and Gigi could see the outline of a scar that trailed from below Crystal’s left eye and up through her thick eyebrow. It looked as if she had been slashed by a tiger.
Gigi reached for a natural red lip tint and placed it on the pad of her index finger. Crystal stared at her fingers for a little too long, slightly writhing in her seat. The redhead hummed a random tune - probably Elvis or something - as she prepared to apply the product.
Before Gigi even had the dance to place her finger on Crystal’s desperate swollen lips, a hoarse voice called from upstairs.
“Crystal.”
The blonde leaned away from Gigi, turning her head to face the open door.
“Yes, honey?”
”What have I told you about humming? You’ve woken me up from my nap.”
Both women’s eyes widened before Crystal made the choice to take the blame for the younger woman; “Sorry, my love. It won’t happen again.”
”It better not. Now make me a cup of tea - I’ll be down in a minute.”
Crystal sighed and glanced back at Gigi, taking her and her beauty in for a few more moments out of fear that she’d never have the chance to again. The two of them shared a knowing, sympathetic look. The redhead pursed her lips, beginning to gather her belongings up. There was no talking, but there didn’t need to be. It remained silent until Crystal was leading Gigi back to the foyer and out the door. The taller woman was about to leave when the blonde suddenly grabbed her wrist, pulling her back with slight force.
“What is it?” asked Gigi, and Crystal couldn’t help but notice the former’s sudden fixation on her lips.
“You should come over again. I wanna see you again.”
“Really?”
Crystal shrugged.
“-Will your husband mind?” Gigi added.
The blonde tutted, “He has golf two hours a day - minus Sunday. Come between two and four and we can have no interruptions.”
Crystal saying ‘no interruptions’ implied the two of them would be up to something when they met again, but Gigi didn’t dwell on it.
Gigi slipped a business card into the blonde’s hand, and the latter watched as she clipped on her helmet and hopped onto her scooter, speeding off out of sight. She swore the scent of cotton and vanilla lingered in the air once Gigi had disappeared but realised that she should probably get to making her husband’s tea before it was too late.
While she stirred the tea bag into her husband’s blue mug, she began to trail off. She thought about the bottle of cyanide that sat on the top shelf of her husband’s workshop. She thought about what would happen if she poured some into the cup. Would he be able to taste it as he drank? Would it happen fast? Or would it painfully eat away at his insides for the whole day?
If Crystal weren’t so terrified of consequences, she’d hop down to his workshop and grab the bottle without hesitation, but she had so much she wanted to do with her life and didn’t plan to spend the rest of her days incarcerated.
She had been tapping the teaspoon against the sides of the mug as she daydreamed, but promptly pulled it out when she heard the sound of her husband’s heavy footsteps making their way down the staircase.
“Let me grab a coaster for you, my love-.” she said graciously, grabbing a wicker one from a small pile and placing it down on the table, followed by the mug.
“-Weak with one teaspoon of sugar. Just how you like it.”
He grunted in response. Not even a thank you. She stood and observed the back of his head, thinking about how much better it would look with a couple of bullets through it.
“My bedroom is a tip,” he said after a few minutes, not bothering to look at Crystal while he spoke.
She respired deeply, trying to stop her eyes from rolling to the back of her head in annoyance.
“I suppose you want me to clean it for you then.”
No response again, but Crystal knew that meant yes.
Reluctantly, she trudged up the stairs. Although she could practically see her reflection in the spotless wooden polish on the floor, she knew her husband would likely have something to say about them too. She had considered getting a maid, but it would just be yet another woman for her husband to objectify, and she didn’t wish that upon anyone.
She put The Temptations Wish It Would Rain on the record player, and let it play until it buffered whilst she dusted the nooks and crannies of the room and folded all the clothes. Her husband had the finest record player in the house in his room, yet he never used it. It was just another thing to put on the list of Crystal’s reasons to resent him.
Her husband couldn’t leave for golf soon enough.
*
As soon as her husband backed out of the driveway at ten minutes to two, Crystal was dialling the number on the business card she had been given just the previous day.
It rang once. Twice. A third time before there was a gentle scratching before a soft voice came through the line.
“Yellow, this is Genevieve Goode, your local Avon representative, what can I do you for?”
Crystal snorted, “You started and ended that sentence with overused jokes. That’s my thing! Just come over, will you?”
“I’m on my way!”
When Gigi arrived, Crystal fixed the two of them coffee before eagerly rushing to show the former her constantly expanding vinyl collection. The redhead would point to one she thought looked good, and Crystal would give her the title and some eccentric story about how she came to purchase it.
”This is Je m'appelle Barbra by Barbra Streisand. Her vocals are just… Immaculate. My best friend growing up had a voice just like Streisand’s, so I just love listening to her sing. Did you hear about her new film coming out this coming January? It's a musical called Funny Girl.”
Gigi smiled widely, her expression attentive, unlike anything Crystal’s husband would show.
”That’s lovely! I love movie-musicals.”
”You do?-.” Crystal beamed.
“-What’s your favourite?”
“Oh, well-.” Gigi sucked in her cheeks.
“-It’s quite basic.”
“Go on.”
“The Sound of Music.”
Things only got better from there.
Crystal showed Gigi a tour of her large house, and how the ratio of ownership from her husband’s items to her own was laughable, really. Everything she bought for herself, her husband would pawn off. Her records were really all she had.
Gigi was fascinated by the prospect of someone having their own greenhouse. Crystal had taken her into the backyard and shown the redhead the many tomatoes, radishes and onions growing there. The younger woman explained how there was no yard in the woman’s hostel she stayed in - just a lonesome little succulent that sat at the side of her bed which she’d drizzle water over weekly.
By half-past three, Crystal had cooked up the two of them Salisbury steaks, seasoned with some parsley that Gigi had picked from the garden. They sat opposite one another at the older woman’s kitchen table and ate fast, knowing they were on restricted time.
“You seem like such a happy lady. What could’ve possibly possessed you to marry such a miserable man?” Gigi said after just a single glass of wine. She was a lightweight, evidently.
Crystal swallowed a large mouthful of steak and sighed, “Parental pressures. If it were my choice, I’d still be living alone in New York City.” Only slightly alone, really. But Crystal wouldn’t tell her that.
The redhead rested her chin in her palms and stared Crystal down intently, pouting, almost.
“But isn’t it the American dream to settle down in a big house in a quiet place with a man that’ll provide for you?” she inquired innocently.
“It may be some American’s dream, but it sure as hell isn’t mine.”
After a few more giggles together, the clock warned them that Gigi had to go so Crystal had time to clean up before her husband returned home. They couldn’t leave a trace of a guest behind, or else her husband would get suspicious and angry, and God knows what he could do when he was angry. The redhead hopped on her scooter and whizzed away towards the already setting sun, and Crystal wiped down every surface and covered every trace of Gigi’s sickeningly strong perfume that lingered around the house.
Her husband returned sharp. He opened the front door forcefully, tossing his bowler hat towards the coat standing and missing by a meter. Crystal shuffled over to pick the hat from the floor and hook it over the stand before turning to her husband and smiling.
“How was golf?” she questioned, standing in front of him (towering over him - she was 5’10 and he was barely pushing 5’4.) She reached towards him and fixed his shirt collar gently, before he leaned in and pecked her lips, his rough stubble scratching at her chin. She wanted to wash her mouth out thoroughly, but at least his affections were better than his angry outbursts.
“It was rainy, but Robert had brought an extra umbrella. The field almost got flooded, though-.” he grumbled as he wiggled out of his tweed jacket, handing it to Crystal to hang up.
“-You look happy,” he observed, and Crystal stopped in her tracks.
Crystal walked onto the rooftop, towards the bench where her friend sat. She was careful not to slip on the small patches of ice, as she was holding two cups of tea in her favourite mugs. Slowly but surely, she handed one mug to Widow, before sitting down with her own.
“This weather is unbelievable-.” the older woman sighed contently, steam flowing from her mouth. She turned to Crystal and smiled.
“-Your cheeks are all rosy.”
The blonde chuckled, “It’s snowing, but I’m still overdressed. Apparently three coats are too many? First I’ve heard of it.”
They laughed together for a while, taking sips of tea whilst Crystal tried to catch falling snowflakes on her red woollen gloves; but then they fell silent. All that could be heard was the sound of New York traffic down below, as husband drove home through the stormy weather to be with their families for Christmas. Widow’s hand crept over and brushed Crystal’s before she intertwined their fingers.
Crystal watched as a tear made its way down her lover’s cheek.
“I’m gonna miss you so much,” Widow sniffled.
The blonde squeezed her hand, “Me too. I wish he wasn’t taking me away. I wish you could come with me,” she leaned in and dropped gentle kisses along Widow’s jaw and neck.
Widow lifted a finger to wipe her eyes, “God, these tears will freeze to my damn face.”
Crystal pushed her hand away and replaced it with her own, patting away the tears and drying the wetness on the older woman’s cheeks.
“I’ll never forget you, my love-.” said Crystal, before pressing her lips against Widow’s in one last heart-wrenching kiss as the snow fell around them. They stayed like that for as long as they could, before Crystal checked her watch and knew she had to go.
“-My car will be here any minute now. I have to go. I promise you I’ll come to find you someday. Goodbye, Widow Von’Du.”
“Goodbye, Crystal.”
She pecked her cheek before returning back down the stairs of the rooftop, towards the lobby where her husband and their chauffeur stood. Crystal dusted down her coat of the leftover snowflakes, before giving Mr Methyd a faux-warm smile.
“You look happy,” he had said. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
Crystal shrugged, “I just tended to the garden today, and it was relaxing. That’s all.”
Her husband nodded - expressionless - before waltzing through to his study to do god knows what. He never told Crystal anything he was doing, so she never really felt obliged to do the same. Before meeting Mr Methyd, the blonde rarely lied, but now it seemed that lying was all she ever did.
She walked upstairs to run a bath for herself. She felt a lot of tension inside her that she needed to wash away. Although her brain tried to tell her the reasons for being so tense were unknown; she knew it stemmed from a certain Avon lady. As Crystal undressed herself, she pictured Gigi doing it instead. She swore she would never love another woman after leaving Widow in New York, but after news that the older woman had passed away the previous Christmas, Crystal was lost. She was still so young and there was no chance in her giving up on love. She had met Widow when she was just seventeen and spent two wonderful years in a secret relationship with her, but that was another lifetime to the one she was in now. She had to move on.
She clambered into the tub and let her tan hands explore her body, thinking of nothing else but Gigi, Gigi, Gigi.
Gigi’s white teeth and her cold hands and her small breasts.
Crystal hadn’t touched herself in years. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt a hint of desire for anyone or anything, but now her finger was slipping between her folds, concealed by the voluminous bubbles that surrounded her. She caressed her left breast and thought about Gigi on top of her, marking her, making her come undone. She had no clue what the redhead’s sexuality was, but she knew she couldn’t be imagining the glint in the girl’s eye when she got close to her.
With Widow, she had had so many close-calls where her husband nearly walked in on them undressing one another, or he almost caught them kissing one another in the foyer outside one of his work functions; so Crystal knew that this time, if her want for Gigi was mutual, she’d have to find some way to rid them of their primary obstacle.
*
“Good afternoon Miss Methyd,” Gigi grinned, bursting through the front door at five minutes past two wearing a little black dress with a large cream fur over it, looking awfully glamorous for a weekday and being a minimum-wage worker.
Crystal sucked in a breath at the sight of her, but she composed herself and cracked a smirk, “These pyramid schemes are really making you bread, hm?”
The redhead stared at her for a moment, dazed and confused, before she understood what the older woman meant. Then, she let out a laugh, tipping her head back and showing off her unfairly perfectly sculpted bone structure that looked just the right size to slot into Crystal’s cupped palms.
“Oh my goodness I didn’t pay for this!”
Crystal’s eyes crinkled, “So when you’re a pretty skirt, men just buy you expensive things?”
Gigi paused, “You think I’m pretty?”
Fuck.
“Well, uh. Duh? It’s your job to be pretty.”
“I suppose you’re right-.” the redhead purred, cosying up to her coat that practically swallowed her thin frame.
“-But no, I borrowed this.”
“From who?”
Gigi laughed again. “You are an utter bozo, Crystal Methyd. I stole it.”
Crystal led Gigi to the kitchen and offered to hang her coat up for her, but the younger woman was insistent in keeping it thrown over her shoulders all day, just to display a fake persona of decadence. After a few minutes, Crystal proposed the idea of going down a block or two to the small local gelato parlour owned by her friend Jan, and was shocked when Gigi responded with; ’what is gelato?’
So, Crystal practically dragged her by the sleeve towards the cafe parlour and pushed open the entrance so forcefully that she almost tore off the little bell that rang when a new customer arrived.
“Cryssieee, my favourite customer-.” Jan sang when the two girls stumbled in.
“-And a friend! Who is this?”
The redhead grinned and gave her hand to the elated short girl in front, “Gigi Goode! Your local Avon worker.”
Jan gasped, “Uh oh, you haven’t hooked my Crystal into one of your pyramid schemes have you?”
Crystal cut in, putting her arm around Gigi’s waist when she was sure they were the only people in the parlour, “Goodness, no. I would never. This one knocked on my door to do my makeup then decided she was my new best friend and won’t stop coming over.”
Jan looked concerned for a moment before the joke clinked in her head and she let out a dramatically high-pitched laugh that could make anyone uncomfortable. She took the girls’ orders - one stracciatella gelato and one lemon - before showing the girls to a table - far from one of the windows - and disappeared behind the counter.
Gigi looked at Crystal with a huge smile. Her cheeks were red, as was the tip of her nose. Her lips were glossy and her lashes were curled. She looked incredibly kissable.
“Jan seems so lovely. I thought you said you didn’t have any lady friends!” the redhead accused, reaching her hands across the table and fiddling with Crystal’s wedding ring which she had since put back on after the day they first met.
“I can assure you that she is the only one. The only place I ever get out to is here because it’s convenient, and to the supermarket, because my husband is a pig who devours the entire fridge within two days of stocking it, somehow-.” she giggled, trying not to focus on the way Gigi’s trimmed nails scraped against her hand.
“-And Jan. She’s nice. She’s different. She’s another woman… like me. Trapped in a marriage with some disgusting man twice her age just so she doesn’t end up a homeless spinster. But she has her business, and her girlf- her girl friends.”
Gigi squinted her eyes at the older woman right as Jan sauntered over with their cups of gelato, impaled with small teaspoons, placing them down in front of the two of them.
“Stracciatella for Crystal and lemon for baby Geege-.” she simpered delightedly.
“-Lemon was a great choice! My Jackie loves lemon.”
Jan scuttled off to tend to the ice cream van man that waited for a stock up on products before Gigi could ask who Jackie was, so she turned to Crystal instead.
“Is Jackie her lover?” the redhead questioned nonchalantly, sticking her gelato-filled spoon into her mouth. She winced for a moment - brain freeze - not registering Crystal’s completely slack jaw.
“I uh-” Crystal’s heart stopped.
“What?” Gigi smiled.
“-You think I wouldn’t know what you meant when you said ’like me.’ And you’re a closeted homosexual, right?”
The blonde wanted to stand up, fold up her chair and throw it at Gigi’s perfect face, but instead, she simply pulled her hands away from her touch and tried not to make her glassy eyes noticeable.
“Lower your voice-.” she hissed, clutching her purse to her chest.
“-What made you think you can go around making accusations like that? Have you lost your damn mind?”
Gigi folded her legs and leaned forward, looking almost drunkenly smug, “Puh-lease, Crystal. Do you think I wouldn’t know? The way you look at me… you’re obsessed with me. The way I walk, the way I talk.”
Crystal felt naked.
“Would you look at that-.” Gigi added.
“-You’re even looking at my lips right now.”
Crystal pushed her seat back roughly, almost toppling it over, “We’re going home.”
Thank god the two of them had walked there because Crystal wouldn’t be able to stomach wrapping her arms around Gigi’s waist and holding on tight to her as she scooted home. That would be too much. Hell, it already was too much. She felt like her lungs had shrunken and she couldn’t draw in proper breaths anymore. And she was confused. Gigi was so relaxed. She prayed in her head that Gigi’s observations had come from a place of similarity. She hoped that the reason why the redhead was able to pick up all the signs was that she related to them. She made it home in a gust of wind and instantly dragged Gigi through to the kitchen, pressing her up against the counter and pointing a finger against her throat.
“We were in a public setting back there, Gigi. You can’t just- fucking- psychoanalyse me as you please when anyone could hear. Do you know how dangerous that is? Do you know the implications of that? Cause I don’t think you do.”
Gigi frowned and tensed her jaw, “I didn’t mean to make you feel unsafe- I’m not against that. At all, actually. I mean. Quite the opposite, to be honest.”
And there it was.
Crystal’s stern expression faltered to one of surprise and desire, and Gigi caught on instantly. She grabbed the blonde’s muscular upper arms and flipped the two of them round, so now Crystal was the one pressed against the counter. She pulled Crystal’s curly blonde hair out of its bun and pushed it behind her back, before leaning in and breathing against her neck.
“You have wanted me since the second you opened your door to me. You are fooling nobody, Mrs Methyd.”
The blonde sucked in a gasp and it was painfully audible to the other woman, who instantly sunk her teeth into Crystal’s lower neck and sucked, bit and kissed at the freckled tan skin below her. Crystal’s knees buckled as she let out a loud moan, that only spurred Gigi on even more.
“So do it. Admit that you’re obsessed with me.”
Crystal keened from her throat, “Gigi- I want you more than anything. I want you to touch me so bad.”
Gigi made her way further and further down, dropping her knees to the tile floor and looking up at the older woman with dough eyes through curled lashes.
“I bet you touched yourself at the thought of me.”
Crystal was silent, avoiding eye contact with Gigi.
So the redhead slapped her thigh - hard enough to elicit a whimper.
”Tell me,” she taunted.
“Yes. I did. I touched myself thinking of you, Gigi.”
“When.”
“Yesterday. In the bath.”
Gigi gently caressed her thigh, nails scratching at the plump, soft skin slightly.
“Did you think about me making you reach your climax?”
“Yes.”
“You want that?”
The redhead could only moan out a response, and just like that, Gigi’s head had disappeared under her skirt.
*
Crystal wasn’t expecting it to happen more than once, but quickly it became routine. It became a pastime. Her husband would leave, Gigi would come over, she’d put her hand beneath Crystal’s dress and touch the wetness that practically never went away anymore. Crystal was always horny. So desperate.
But, like her past affairs with Widow, there were so many close calls.
Like when her husband returning ten minutes after leaving to grab his jacket which he had forgotten, and Gigi had to hide in the literal laundry chute whilst Crystal fetched it for him, or when Gigi fucked Crystal against the walls of the greenhouse and the neighbour’s grasscutter caught them and the redhead had to pay the man almost one hundred and fifty dollars for him to keep his lips sealed.
“We can’t risk something like that again, Geege,” Crystal sighed whilst Gigi hovered behind her in the bathroom mirror. The blonde was fixing her hair back into its bun because she knew that if Mr Methyd got home and saw her curls loose on her shoulders, he’d scold her.
The redhead caressed the blonde’s shoulders and pouted, “Are you implying that we stop this? Because both of us know that the other doesn’t want to do that.”
The older woman smirked and turned to face Gigi, “I never said we had to stop us-.”
“-I think we have to stop him.”
All the years of degradation, of concealing her true self, of being forced to leave her soul behind in New York City and only managing to mend it upon the entrance of Gigi Goode, led up to this. They were going to get rid of Andrew Methyd.
They began to plot out a plan on paper. They went through many different options. The easiest method would be to feed the man something he was fatally allergic to, but unfortunately, he only had a marginally sensitive nose towards animal fur and nothing more than that. So, that method was out of the picture.
Another would be to poison him, just as Crystal had always imagined. She would put some drops of cyanide in his drink.
But, he was cunning, there was a chance it wouldn’t work, and a high chance that they could be caught.
They ruled that method out too.
Then, when Gigi burst in two days later, half an hour after she usually arrived because she ran out of petrol, Crystal had a genius idea.
“You know Jan’s lover, Jackie?” she began.
“Yes, I’m aware of her.”
“Well, she’s a practising anaesthetist. I have a plan, and all we need to do is get our hands on some anaesthetic, some petrol, and some matches. That sound easy?”
Gigi bit back a sneer, “Easy enough.”
The blonde kissed Gigi passionately when she burst through the door on a Friday afternoon with six litres of highly flammable petrol and a needle filled with Propofol anaesthesia. This lady was a lifesaver. They hid the needle in the drawer on Crystal’s side of the bed. For later.
Crystal had told many stories of her Abuelita from Mexico to Gigi. She told her about how she hadn’t visited the country since she was twelve years old. She missed it dearly and yearned to go back.
So they wove that into their plan.
After putting Mr Methyd to sleep and covering him and the rest of the house in petrol, Crystal would toss a match at the house whilst Gigi sat in the driver’s seat of her husband’s car, the trunk filled with suitcases of Crystal’s belongings, and they’d drive for twenty-two hours - all the way to the Mexican border - and flee.
The plan kicked off the second Gigi waltzed through the door with the supplies. They were to just stay, spend the day together and pack until Crystal’s husband returned.
The blonde couldn’t lie and pretend that she wasn’t sad to be leaving such a beautiful home, but she knew how beach houses could be back near the coast of Mexico, where she visited as a child. She knew her Abuelos weren’t around anymore. They hadn’t been for a while. But that wouldn’t stop her from returning to the place where most of her happy childhood memories came from.
Crystal didn’t have many belongings, and nor did Gigi. What Crystal did have was her husband’s credit card, and her name all over his will, and a load of cash.
They were set for life.
When Crystal’s husband finally arrived home, the blonde took his keys for him kindly, pretending to hang them up on the kitchen hook but actually tossing them into the pantry where Gigi Goode sat surrounded in suitcases and bags (and jugs of petrol, but those were for later.)
After fixing Mr Methyd a modest bowl of prawn linguine, Crystal used her art of manipulation to push her husband into believing he was tired. He nodded and eventually agreed with her, stretching his back and making his way up the staircase, with his wife calling behind him in assurance that she’d be up soon too.
She made her way to the upstairs bathroom, beside her and her husband’s bedroom, and stripped down to her lingerie so she was able to provoke him before going in for the kill. Even though Mr Methyd wasn’t very fond of her, he was fond of her breasts. He would often comment on how she looked slightly pudgy around the stomach area, but when it came to her chest, it seemed like it was her only redeeming quality for him.
Once she knew she looked good - or she knew her tits looked good, specifically - she crept into their bedroom, where her husband lay on their bed reading the newspaper.
“Hey gorgeous-.” she purred, crawling towards him and pushing her shoulder’s inward, accentuating her plump chest.
“-Whatcha reading?”
“They legalised abortion in Britain. What a bunch of bullshit,” he cavilled, tossing his newspaper to the side.
And to think Crystal was going to go slowly. That was the last straw for her.
She reached into the drawer, yanked out the needle and injected it right into his wrinkled old wrist, watching his expression fall into one of confusion before he dozed off, collapsing onto the bed.
“Never speak on women again-.” she spat, before plastering on a smile and stepping out into the hallway.
“-Geeeeege. Bring up the petrol, baby.”
“On it!”
Whilst the blonde pulled her clothing back on, Gigi poured the strong-scented oil all around the house. In every single room. But, especially, all over Mr Methyd. She covered him in it until he looked glossy, like he had been wrapped in plastic wrap. Crystal pushed Gigi against the wall and kissed her fervently once the latter finished the last container, and then they fetched the matches from the medicine before walking out onto the driveway hand-in-hand.
They made sure the car was at the furthest away point without being on the road, to avoid damage at all costs. Gigi pecked Crystal’s cheek and told her to be safe, before jogging over to the car and taking her place in the driver’s seat.
The blonde took three steps back in caution before striking the first match. The flame lasted a moment before the wind blew it out. She sighed and threw it beneath her shoe before going again.
This time, the flame was large. It was roaring and blue, and Crystal looked at it for a millisecond before tossing it right at the Methyd home and rushing back as fast as she could before the white plywood turned an orange-red, and the whole house went up in flames.
Crystal sprinted to the car, getting away with just a few sparks in her hair. She hopped into the passenger seat and pulled Gigi in, kissing her for a few seconds before yelling ‘go, go, go!’ And then they went off into the sunset.
Me and my husband
We are doing better