Chapter 6
“That’s it, pull the left string down a bit, careful not to collide with that other one. There, isn’t that satisfying?”
In each hand, Franky held a spool of string that twitched and snagged in the gusts of wind. The kite - Bridget had found it when cleaning out a cupboard for the study - swooped above them. It was a rather swanky red and yellow stunt kite, with a long ribbon that slapped when the wind changed.
“Careful now, Franky, it’s going to crash. Pull.”
Bridget had no appointments for the afternoon so had come into the city to meet Franky for lunch before heading home. They planned to have sandwiches in the park so Bridget had brought the kite along for fun. Franky looked at her girlfriend. Her nose was red from the chill. She was clearly having a lot of fun. Franky tugged on both strings randomly, and the kite veered and plummeted. The strings went slack and it accelerated into the ground.
“Don’t move. I’ll get it,” yelled Bridget.
She went running off along the grass, picked up the kite, walked with it until the strings were taut again, then sailed it up into the low white sky once more, where it pulled at its reins. Franky thought of trying to explain to Bridget that the good bits of kite-flying - that is, when the kite was briefly airborne - didn’t, as far as Franky was concerned, compensate for the bits where it was lying on the grass with the line having to be untangled by clumsy numb fingers. She decided not to.
“We should go to the ski fields,” said Bridget, back beside Franky and panting, “we could go tobogganing.”
“What’s got into you? Bit energetic, hey?”
Bridget stood behind Franky and slid her arms around her. Franky concentrated on steering the kite.
“We could take snowboarding lessons,” she said, “or just regular skiing. Or maybe we should buy a toboggan. They don’t cost much and it would last us years.”
“In the meantime,” Franky said, “I’ve gotta get back to work. And I can’t feel my fingers.”
“Here.” Bridget took the kite from Franky. “I’ll let you get going. What time do you think you’ll be home?”
“Should be able to leave at 5, so I’ll be home before 6.”
“I might buy us some crumpets. I love crumpets.”
“Yeah?”
“There’s lots you don’t know about me.” Bridget started reeling in the kite. “Did you know, for instance, that when I was fifteen I had a crush on a girl called Francesca?” She was in the year above me at school. I was just a scrawny little girl to her, of course. It was agony. I hated being a teenager. I couldn’t wait to grow up.”
Bridget knelt on the ground, carefully folded the kite and put it away in its narrow nylon bag. Franky didn’t say anything. Bridget looked up and smiled. “Of course, being grown-up has its problems too. But at least you don’t feel so awkward and self-conscious all the time.”
Franky squatted down beside her. “What are your problems now, then, Gidge?”
“Now?” She frowned then looked surprised. “Nothing, really.” She put her arms on Franky’s shoulders, nearly unbalancing her. “Only the small fact that I’m about to turn 50 while my stunning, young girlfriend is in her prime.”
“Gidge, don’t start that shit. I don’t give a fuck how old you are. Age is just a fuckin’ number. You know that.”
Bridget kissed the tip of Franky’s nose. “I know. I’m just being a bit precious.”
Franky stood up and pulled Bridget to her feet. “What about you?” Bridget asked.
“What?”
“What are your grown-up problems?”
“Let me think. A criminal record. Youtube notoriety. And bad circulation, apparently. Come on, I’m freezing.”
******
Franky had a busy afternoon at work but was able to leave at 5:00pm as she had hoped. She was lucky enough to get a seat in the crowded peak hour train. She retrieved her phone from her satchel and composed a text to Erica.
“Do you have any body parts that hurt?” Franky smiled as she typed. She couldn’t resist opening with a teasing question.
Within a minute, her phone beeped. “Not telling.”
Franky laughed to herself. “Well played ;) What you up to?”
“Staying late at the office. Catching up on work.”
“You were a bad girl taking yesterday off.” Franky could imagine the blush that would have crossed Erica’s face when she read that message.
“I had a bad influence.”
Franky smiled. Erica was quick with the comebacks today. “Better stop distracting you. Text ya tomorrow.”
“Have a good night.”
Franky deleted the text messages then tapped into her Facebook app. She had created an event page for Bridget’s 50th. Everyone who was invited had indicated they’d be going. She thought about what Gidge had said at the park at lunchtime. She hoped she wasn’t really feeling bad about her upcoming birthday. It was true that Franky couldn’t care less how old Gidge was. She was determined for the party to be a great time for everyone.
When Franky got home, Bridget really had bought crumpets. She suggested cooking some up but Franky insisted they go out for dinner instead. She wanted to spoil Bridget - partly because of the lingering guilt she felt over her day of debauchery the day before, but mainly because she always like to spoil Bridget for her birthday week, whether it be a milestone birthday or not.
They went to an Italian restaurant near their house and ate spaghetti with clams and drank abrasive red wine. Bridget was in a nostalgic mood. She talked more about her teenage years and about some of the other girlfriends she’d had before Franky. Then they spoke about the blissful days they had spent together when Franky was first released from prison, before real life had interfered and they had to share the time with university and work. They had coffee and shared a tiramisu, and Franky felt happy with how the evening had panned out.
When they got home they headed straight to the bedroom. Bridget decided to have a quick shower. Franky crawled into bed and curled up under the duvet. Her phone beeped. It was Erica.
“I can smell your perfume on my sheets. I like it.”
A warmth spread through Franky. Erica writing teasing, flirtatious texts. Trying to beat her at her own game. This was an intriguing turn of events. She quickly typed a reply.
“Very cheeky. You’re gonna get it.”
A short wait and Franky’s phone beeped again. “Promise?”
Oh fuck! Erica was being deliberately provocative. And it was definitely having the desired effect on Franky. She went to type out a reply but at that moment Bridget reappeared in the bedroom wrapped in her towel. Franky quickly turned off her phone then placed it on the charger.
Bridget didn’t put on her pyjamas. She dropped her towel to the floor and crawled naked into the bed and climbed on top of Franky.
“Thank you so much for tonight, I had a great time.” she said.
“No worries,” Franky said with a grin. “You’re getting spoilt rotten for the rest of the week so get used to it.”
Bridget smiled and gave Franky a quick kiss. “I’d like to do something for you in return.”
Bridget kissed Franky on the lips again and then moved down, planting soft kisses down her chest and stomach. She told Franky she loved her, and Franky told Bridget she loved her too. She wanted to say it over and over, to remind herself of it, to help keep her focus, but she stopped herself. As Bridget went down on her, images of Erica flashed through Franky’s mind. What would she be doing now? Obviously she was in bed. Maybe she was wearing sexy lingerie. Or maybe she was naked.
Franky reached her hand down and softly grasped Bridget’s hair, encouraging her. Franky was incredibly horny; she wasn’t going to last long. Her mind continued to wander. She wondered whether Erica was thinking about her at that moment. She imagined Erica touching herself. Sweeping those perfectly manicured hands all over her own body, before slowly trailing them down so she could pleasure herself. So she could fuck herself. The images in Franky’s mind combined with the feel of Bridget’s tongue against her were too much. She came hard against Bridget’s mouth.
******
For the next few days, Franky stayed true to her promise of spoiling Bridget for her birthday week. She went straight home from work every day, bought flowers and expensive wines, cooked Bridget’s favourite meals and served them by candlelight, and made love to her each night. Despite what had been happening between herself and Erica, Franky still took genuine pleasure in doing things for Bridget. She saw how much Bridget appreciated and was touched by her efforts.
Franky had a strong inkling from their text message conversation on the Tuesday night that Erica was keen to see her as soon as possible. However, Erica had offered no objections when Franky had let her know that they wouldn’t be able to see each other until the following week. She simply replied that she understood when Franky had texted saying that unfortunately she was flat-out with work and had plans for the weekend.
In the back of her mind, Franky had hoped that she would find it easy not seeing Erica. She hoped it would be a case of out-of-sight-out-of mind. Maybe the break would be so easy that it would encourage her to leave the affair behind her. She could break things off with Erica before they got too serious, then things would return to normal. However, the break turned out to be the exact opposite to out-of-sight-out-of-mind. She thought about Erica constantly.
Franky had given up cigarettes about a year after she got out of prison. Bridget had told her that the trick was not to think about not smoking: what you are denying yourself, she’d said, becomes doubly desirable and then its like a kind of persecution. Franky had quit without any difficulties. Cold turkey. Once she had decided to give up she didn’t think about smoking again.
But now she understood exactly what Bridget had meant. She couldn’t stop thinking about Erica, and the more she thought about her the more she wanted her. Turned out that Erica was far more addictive than nicotine.
******
The night of Bridget’s big 50th birthday celebration had arrived. Bridget and Franky sat at a table at Nirankar, one of Melbourne’s premier Indian restaurants, with twelve of their closest friends. Bottles of wine and glasses of beer stood on the table, and everyone’s faces in the candlelight looked merry and soft.
“Franky!” Clive, her workmate, shouted from one end of the table. Franky sat squeezed against Bridget, their thighs pressed together, at the other end, but Clive waved her over. “I called her,” he said.
“Who?”
“Erica,” he said. “She said no. Last time I come to you for advice,” he added in jest.
“Come on!” Franky said, doing her best imitation of someone having fun and not someone whose heart had just stopped at the mention of her lover’s name. It seemed like a lifetime ago that Clive had told her about meeting Erica and she and Sylvie had encouraged him to ask her out. “You know I give great advice. This is the first smudge on a squeaky clean record.”
Clive laughed. “Maybe it’s best she turned me down. I invited her to come with me tonight. It might have been a bit much for a first date. I think things might get pretty messy by the end of the night.”
Holy shit, Franky thought. Dodged a massive bullet there. Thank fuck she said no.
“That’s the plan, mate!” Franky chinked her beer glass against his. “Drink up, it’s time for another round.”
Franky was now sitting next to Sylvie. Across from her was Julie with her boyfriend. On the other side of Sylvie was Bridget’s younger sister Pauline, who was there with Tom, her fairly new husband. Pauline caught Franky’s eye and gave her a smile. She was probably Franky’s closest friend outside of her work mates and she had been trying not to think of her for the past couple of weeks. Franky smiled back.
She started to pick at someone else’s onion bhaji and concentrated on what Sylvie was telling her, which was about a man she’d been seeing, most specifically what they’d been doing in bed, or on the bed, or on the floor. “What most men don’t seem to understand is that when they arrange your legs over their shoulders so that they can go deeper in, it can really hurt. When Joe did it last night, I thought I was going to pull a hamstring,” she said with earnest.
Sylvie was the only person Franky knew who satisfied her basic interest in what other people actually do when they have sex. She was generally willing to reply with confessions of her own, but she resisted this time. She was already inebriated and she couldn’t risk letting slip details that happened with Erica and not Bridget. “I keep telling ya, you’ve gotta try doing it with a chick. You’ll never go back.”
“Well I’m seriously considering it now,” Sylvie grinned wolfishly, her teeth white and her lips painted bright red. “Honestly, a night with Joe is like a night at the rodeo. I felt so sore today that I could hardly sit down at work. I’d complain to Joe about it but he’d take it as some backhanded compliment, which I don’t mean at all. I’m sure you’re much better than I am at getting what you want. Sexually, I mean.”
“Can’t complain,” Franky said, looking around to see if anybody was listening to what they were saying. A fresh glass of beer was placed in front of her and she half emptied it in a gulp. At this rate, and on a practically empty stomach, she’d be drunk soon. Maybe then she would feel less bad. She stared at the menu. “I’ll have, um …” Her voice trailed away. She thought she’d seen a woman outside the restaurant window with blonde hair. But when she looked again no one was there. Of course not. “Vegetable red curry,” she said.
She felt Bridget’s hand on her shoulder as her girlfriend moved across to their end of the table. She wanted to be near Franky, but just at that moment Franky could hardly bear it. She had an absurd impulse to tell Bridget everything. Instead, she placed her arm around her then drank some more beer and laughed when everyone else laughed and nodded occasionally when the intonation of a sentence seemed to demand a response. If she could see Erica just one more time, she would be able to bear it, she told herself. There was someone out there. Obviously it wasn’t Erica, but someone in a dark coat and with blonde hair was outside in the cold. Franky looked at Bridget. She was having an animated conversation with Sylvie about a film they had both seen last week. “No, he just pretended to do it,” she was saying.
Franky stood up, her chair scraping loudly. “Sorry, just gotta go to the ladies’, be back in a minute.”
She went to end of the restaurant, near the stairs that led down to the toilets, then glanced back. No one was watching her: they were all turned to each other, drinking, talking. They looked such a happy group. Franky slipped through the front door and outside. The cold air hit her so that she gasped as she breathed it. She looked around. There she was, a few years down the street, leaning up against a wall and looking at her cell phone. It was Erica.
Franky ran to her. “What the fuck? You’re spying on me?” she hissed. “What the fuck?” Then she kissed her. She buried her face against hers, pushed her lips against hers, and let Erica wrap her arms around her neck as they strained their bodies against each other. Franky pushed her hands through Erica’s hair and yanked her head back until she was looking into her eyes, then said, “You were spying on me, weren’t you? How the fuck did you know I was here?” She rammed Erica up against the wall and held her there while they kissed again.
“I’m sorry,” Erica said when they broke apart. “Your friend Clive invited me to the party. I said no, but knowing you were here I had to come and see you. I couldn’t stop myself. I’m sorry.”
Franky didn’t respond. She looked around then grabbed Erica’s arm roughly and pulled her into a nearby alleyway where they would be out of sight. She slammed her against another wall and undid her coat, pushed her hand under her shirt and felt her breast. Erica moaned and titled her head back as Franky kissed her neck.
“I’ve gotta go back,” Franky said, still straining against Erica.
She took her hand from Erica’s breast and moved it to her leg, then up her leg and under her skirt. “I’ll be at your place next week.”
She kissed Erica fiercely again, then broke away. She pushed a finger inside her, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from the blonde. “When will you be there? she asked, her eyes boring into Erica’s.
“Monday,” Erica gasped. “Monday after work.”
Franky let her go and raised her hand. Deliberately, so Erica could see, she put her shiny finger into her mouth and licked it.