Trading Places

Franky closed her eyes and breathed in. She felt the warm jets of water shoot against her back as she laid her head on the wooden edge of the outdoor spa bath, her arms up either side of her. She relished the sublime feeling of the aerated, bubbling water tickling her naked body. Clouds of steam cascaded off the water’s surface. The spa was piping hot and provided a welcome sanctuary from the near-freezing air temperature of the winter morning.

Her thoughts wandered to the night before. She and Erica had enjoyed a marathon fuck fest. Franky had taken her time. She relished the fact that they had the whole night to themselves without the restriction of having to get up for work the next morning. She fucked Erica with her fingers, her tongue, with the strap-on. They’d experimented with different positions, with different toys. And when they were finished there were overwhelmed with the most delightful enervation.

Franky was aroused just thinking about what she had done to Erica. That arousal was intensified by the fact that for the entire night she had not allowed Erica to reciprocate any of those actions on her. In the light of the morning however, she found she was now desperate for release.

As if on cue, Franky heard a sliding door opening. She opened her eyes and looked around to see Erica emerge from the cottage. The blonde gasped as the cold morning air hit her face. She buried her hands into the velour dressing gown that she was wearing and walked towards where Franky was sitting in the spa bath.

“Morning babe,” Franky said with a smile, not moving from her reclined position in the spa.

“When did you sneak out here?” Erica asked. She looked fresh-faced and well rested. Her cheeks were pink from the wind chill.

:”I dunno, about half an hour ago I guess. I thought you deserved a sleep in.” Franky winked at Erica.

“How long until checkout?” Erica asked.

“Don’t have to be out of here until 2pm,” Franky took a long, deep breath and slid deeper into the spa. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

“How’s the water?” Erica asked.

Franky leaned her head back. “Fucking perfect,” she said. She brought her head back up to look at Erica. “Why don’t you come in and test it for yourself?”

Erica grinned. “I don’t have a bathing suit,” she murmured.

Franky looked down at her own body. Even though the bubble from the spa provided some coverage, it was obvious that she was naked. “Lucky there’s a no bathing suit policy in this spa,” she chuckled. “Do you…” she fell silent mid-sentence as Erica smiled mischievously and untied her dressing gown. Franky took a sharp intake of breath when Erica let the gown fall to the ground, revealing her gloriously naked body.

Erica lowered herself into the spa bath, watching Franky’s eyes burn into her body as she did so. Before Franky knew it, Erica’s soft lips were on hers, planting the most delicate, seductive of kisses, before she whispered, “Are you a morning person, Franky Doyle?”

“Fuck yeah,” Franky breathed, before Erica’s tongue snaked inside her mouth, softly and gentle at first, but getting more forceful as she entwined her fingers through Franky’s hair.

In a situation like this Franky would usually try to battle Erica for the ascendancy, but on this morning she was far too horny to put up any resistance. She allowed herself to surrender control to Erica. All she could think about was how badly she wanted her and how she hoped the blonde was about to satisfy her beyond her wildest dreams.

Beneath the warm jets of water, Erica’s tight, toned body was inches away from Franky’s. She was strategically sitting far enough away that their skin wasn’t in contact. Franky felt herself edging closer, ever so slightly, just a little more force in her lips, her fingers reaching to Erica’s gorgeous blonde hair to pul her closer. She felt Erica smile, her breath tickling her chin as she pulled away slightly, giggling.

“You’re eager, aren’t you baby?” she cooed.

Franky couldn’t summon the words to reply. Instead, she pulled Erica closer, kissing her harder, more passionately, her fingers wrapped tightly around her head, forcing her closer still. Erica responded by slowly snaking her hands around Franky’s body, her fingers lightly grazing against the bottom of her breasts before settling on her lower back.

Just the contact of skin felt electric to Franky. Erica broke the kiss once more and looked at her. Franky noticed the water dripping down from Erica’s hair over her dewy, golden skin. Her plump lips were pink and pert from the kissing. Her breathing was heavy, regulated, but nearing breathlessness. But her eyes, her eyes were something else. Glistening, a gorgeous ocean blue. Full of passion, hungry.

“I want to fuck you,” Erica whispered.

She slowly guided Franky back up against the side of the spa bath. They were facing each other, naked bodies inches away. Erica leaned in and kissed Franky again, this time with a lot more force. Franky reciprocated the kiss, feeling Erica’s body closer to her, the heat and the tension building up. She pressed her lips harder to Erica’s, moaning softly whenever Erica nibbled at her lip. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, giving in to the lust.

Erica planted a kiss on Franky’s cheek then on her ear, nibbling at the lobe softly as she nuzzled into her neck. She began to kiss there, biting, but careful not to leave any marks. Her lips moved lower, gradually, until she got to Franky’s sizeable breasts. Erica breathed in, taking in the shape, round, firm and supple, but soft and juicy. Franky’s nipples were fully alert and looked so delicious.

Erica hesitated for a moment, but looked up to find Franky gazing back down at her, eyes full of lust, begging. She flicked the tip of her tongue over one pink nipple, causing spasms of pleasure to course through Franky’s body. Wrapping her sumptuous lips around the hard little nub, Erica sucked softly, causing Franky to lay her head back once more, her eyes shut, lips parted. Turning to the other nipple Erica took hold of Franky’s tits, squeezing them as she playfully bit into the nipple and its surrounding flesh.

Franky was in heaven. Having her breasts in Erica’s mouth felt amazing. Her clit was starting throb, so in need of attention that she had to fight the urge to start playing with it herself.

As if reading her mind, Erica pulled away, sitting up once again to kiss Franky passionately while her fingers softly traced over her skin. From her breasts, down towards her belly button, ever so slowly running down along the skin beneath the water, Erica reached down to Franky’s knees and separated them so she could move closer towards her goal. She scratched her nails up along Franky’s soft thighs and the mixture of slight pain and tickling anticipation was too much for Franky. She took hold of Erica’s hand and pulled it closer to her desired destination.

Erica pulled away from the kiss, smiling knowingly as she stared into Franky’s eyes. Her fingers ran closer to the sexy brunette’s center. She felt the soft, smooth skin around Franky’s sex, her fingers slowly tracing around it to tease her lover to breaking point.

“Fuck,” Franky exclaimed loudly, her eyes shut, breathing heavily.

Erica took one finger and ran it ever so slowly along Franky’s sex, feeling the extreme wetness despite the water, right up to find her hard clit, aching to be stimulated. Erica brushed her thumb over it and Franky’s body convulsed, a moan of pleasure escaping her lips Erica softly rubbed her most sensitive spot.

Erica pulled away, not wanting to overexcite Franky, instead slipping a finger into her tight opening, kissing her hard. Franky was soft, warm and tight around Erica’s finger and the blonde gasped with pleasure at finally being inside her again. She slowly inserted a second finger, felt it force its way inside, before beginning to curl her fingers up inside Franky with force. Right up against her g-spot, pumping with a skilful wrist motion. When she had achieved a rhythm that had Franky moaning against her mouth, her thumb returned to rub over Franky’s swollen clit.

Franky felt her whole body tingle and she clenched around Erica’s fingers as they worked on her. She felt the ache inside her get repeatedly sated by Erica’s movements. She wanted to scream, it felt so fucking good, but Erica’s lips remained pushed firmly against hers as her fingers pumped in and out.

Franky felt her body tighten, the warmth in her center building as Erica rubbed at her clit faster and harder. She broke from the kiss, throwing her head back and biting her lip hard as her hips twisted, pushing up to meet Erica’s fingers as waves of electricity flowed through her. Even in the water, Erica could feel Franky’s powerful orgasm flood her body. Franky gripped around Erica’s fingers, soaking them. Erica continued to thrust her fingers into Franky as she watched her orgasm subside, then she slowed them as Franky’s body relaxed and came down from the strong climax. Franky opened her eyes and immediately sat forward to tenderly kiss Erica while her fingers were still inside her.

All Franky could think about was pleasuring Erica just like she had pleasured her. She ached to see her pussy, to taste it, to feel it enveloping her fingers as she fucked her to orgasm. But as if to say, not now, Erica pulled away and got out of the spa bath. Franky watched her grab a towel and wrap it around her gorgeous body. Sensing Franky’s frustration, Erica spoke.

“I’ll go in and cook us breakfast,” she said softly. “Afterwards we can try out the indoor spa.” Her eyes twinkled as she bent down to kiss Franky softly on the lips before walking back towards the cottage.

Franky could only sit there and contemplate what had just happened. She felt deliciously refreshed and satisfied, but she also yearned for more of Erica. Begrudgingly, she climbed out of the spa and grabbed a towel for herself. As she made her way back to the cottage she knew that she and Erica still had a few hours left to enjoy themselves before they had to return to the real world. Smiling, she thought about all the things she was going to do to Erica when they made it to the indoor spa.

******

On Thursday morning, the morning after Franky and Erica returned from their mini-getaway, Erica returned to work. Franky had the rest of the week off but still had some jobs to do. The most urgent was also the one she was dreading the most. She had to collect some things from Bridget’s house. All her clothes were there, her electronics, as well as some things that she needed for work. Until she had got them, she would feel as if she was half there still. With a sick feeling in her stomach, she rang Bridget’s work number, but she wasn’t there; they said she was ill. She then rang Bridget’s mobile and she answered on the first ring.

“Bridget, it’s Franky,” she said foolishly.

“I know,” Bridget replied drily.

“Are you crook?”

“No.”

There was a silence.

“Listen, I’m sorry but I need to come round and collect a few things.”

“I’ll be at work during the day tomorrow. Do it then.”

“I haven’t got my keys anymore.”

Franky could hear Bridget breathing on the other end. “You really burnt your bridges, didn’t you, Franky?”

They arranged that Franky should call in at six thirty that evening. There was another pause. Then they both said goodbye, politely, and Franky rang off.

******

Franky was early, so she walked around for a bit. She didn’t want to take Bridget by surprise, before she was prepared for her, and she certainly didn’t want to meet her on the street. She tried to think what she would say to her. The act of breaking off from her had immediately turned her into a stranger, someone more precious and vulnerable than the strong, impervious Bridget she had lived with. At a few minutes past six thirty, Franky went to the door and pressed the buzzer. She heard feet running down the stairs, saw a shape approaching through the frosted glass.

“Hello, Franky.”

It was Pauline.

“Pauline.” Franky didn’t know what to say to her. Her good friend; the one she would have turned to in any other circumstance. Pauline stood in the doorway. Her dark hair was tied up in a stern knot. She looked tired; there were faint smudges under her eyes. Franky realised that she was seeing her as if they had been apart from each other for months, not just a couple of days.

“Can I come in?”

Pauline stood aside and Franky walked past her, up the stairs. Everything looked the same in the house, of course it did. A photograph of Bridget and Franky, arms around each other and grinning widely, still hung on the wall. Franky’s black moccasin slippers lay on the living-room floor, near the sofa where they’d sat on Sunday. The tulips Bridget had bough at the end of the previous week still stood in a vase, though a little bit droopy. Franky felt bewildered and sat down heavily on the sofa. Pauline stayed standing, looking down at her. She hadn’t said a work.

“Pauline,” Franky croaked. “I know what I’ve done is awful, but I had to.”

“Do you want me to forgive you, then?” she asked. Her voice was withering.

“No.” That was a lie, of course Franky did. “No, but you are one of my closest friends. I thought, well, I’m not cold or heartless. There’s nothing I can say in my defence, except that I just fell in love. Surely you can understand that.”

Franky saw Pauline wince. Of course she could understand that. Eighteen months ago she’d been left, too, because the man she was with had just fallen in love. She sat down at the other end of sofa, as far away from Franky as possible.

“The thing is this, Franky,” she began, and Franky was struck by how they were even talking to each other differently now, more formally and pedantically. “If I allowed myself to, of course I could understand. After all, you weren’t married, you didn’t have children. But I don’t want to understand, you see. Not at the moment. She’s my big sister and she’s been badly hurt.” Her voice wavered and, for a few seconds, she sounded like the woman Franky knew. “Maybe some day we can be friends again, but I’d feel like I was betraying Bridget or something if I listened to your side of the story and tried to imagine how you must be feeling.” She stood up. “I don’t want to be fair to you, you see. Actually, I want to hate you.”

Franky nodded and stood up, too. She did see, of course she did. “I’ll get my things, then.”

Pauline nodded and went into the kitchen. Franky could hear her get a beer from the fridge.

In the bedroom, everything was as it always had been. Franky took her suitcase down from the top of the wardrobe and placed it open on the floor. By her side of the neatly-made bed was the book she had been in the middle of reading and her phone charger. She took them both and put them in the case. She opened the cupboard doors and started to slip clothes off hangers. Her hands were shaking and she couldn’t fold them properly.

She went to the ensuite and shovelled all her creams, lotions and makeup into the case but hesitated over her jewellery. Bridget had given her some of it as gifts: a couple of pairs of earrings, a necklace, a wide copper bracelet. Franky didn’t know if it would be more hurtful to take them or not. She pictured Bridget, later that night, coming into the ensuite and finding out what she had removed, and what she had left behind, and trying to read her feelings from such insubstantial clues. She decided to take everything and chuck it in the case.

There was a pile of washing in the corner, and she fished out a couple of things from it. She remembered her satchel, under the chair by the window, and her diary. She remembered her passport, birth certificate, insurance policies and parole information, which were in a folder along with all of Bridget’s personal documents. She didn’t take any of her other books, although there were several. And she wasn’t going to argue over the car, for which she insisted putting down the deposit on twelve months previously, while Bridget took care of the monthly payments.

Pauline was sitting on the sofa in the living room, drinking her beer. She watched as Franky picked up three letters from the table that were addressed to her and slipped them into her satchel.

“Is that all? You’re travelling light, aren't you?”

Franky shrugged hopelessly. “I know I’ll have to sort it properly soon. Not yet.”

“So it’s not just a fling?”

Franky looked at Pauline. Her eyes were just like Bridget’s. “No, it’s not.”

“So Bridget shouldn’t hold out any hope that you’ll come back to her?”

“No.”

Franky needed to get out of there so she could cry. She went to the door, picking up a jacket of hers that hung from a hook as she did so. It was cold and dark outside.

“Pauline, can you tell Bridget that I’ll do this …” she made a wide, vague gesture round the room, at all their shared things “… however she wants.”

Pauline looked at her but didn’t reply.

“Seeya later, then,” Franky said.

They stared at each other. Franky saw that Pauline, too, wanted her to go so she could cry.

“Yes,” she said.