Trading Places

After she had had her final work day in Melbourne, Franky had just a few loose ends to tie up before the big move. The first was by far the toughest.

Bridget had arranged to be there when Franky turned up with a rented van to collect the rest of her things. She didn’t particularly want them, but she didn’t want to have them in Bridget’s house either, as if one day she might return to that life.

Bridget made her a cup of coffee, but stayed in the kitchen, bent ostentatiously over a folder of work, which Franky was sure she hardly looked at. Bridget had washed her hair that morning and was wearing a shirt that Franky had picked out for her. Franky looked away, tried not to see her tired, clever, familiar face.

Franky was as businesslike as possible. She stashed clothes into plastic bags, wrapped glasses in newspaper and put them into the cardboard boxes she had brought along, pulled books off the shelves and then closed the gaps that marked where they had been. She loaded the chair she’d had when she was studying into the van, an old sleeping bag, some headphones.

“I’ll leave my plants, shall I?” she asked Bridget.

“If you’d prefer.”

“Yeah, thanks. And if there’s anything I’ve overlooked …”

“I can ship it up to Sydney for you,” Bridget said.

There was a silence. Franky swallowed the tepid remains of her coffee, then said. “Bridget, I’m fucking sorry. There’s nothing I can say except sorry.”

Bridget looked at her steadily, then smiled, a thin smile. “I will be fine, Franky,” she said then. “I was hurt, but I’ll be fine. Will you be fine?”

“Of course I will,” Franky said with a friendly smile.

She had thought of driving to Boomer’s place and leaving all the stuff she didn’t need there, but just as she didn’t want things to be waiting for her at Bridget’s she didn’t want them to be waiting for her anywhere at all. She was beginning again, fresh. She had a giddy sense of burning off her past. She stopped at the first Oxfam shop she saw and gave the astonished assistant everything: books, clothes, glasses, headphones and even her chair.

******

Franky had also arranged to see Clive. On her last day of work he had insisted they get together before she moved to Sydney. They met for lunch at a dark little tavern in Brunswick. They kissed each other awkwardly on the cheek, like amiable strangers, then sat at a small table by a fire and ordered steaks with diane sauce and two glasses of house red.

“How’s Gail?” Franky asked.

“Oh, probably alright. I haven’t seen her that much since her birthday party, actually.”

“Do you mean it’s over?”

Clive grinned ruefully at Franky, a flash of the Clive she knew so well. “Yeah, probably, God, you know how hopeless I am with relationships, Franky. I fall in love, then as soon as it gets serious I panic.”

“Poor Gail.”

“I didn’t come to talk about that.” He took a bite of his steak.

“You wanted to talk to me about Erica, right?”

“Right.” He drank some wine, took another bite of steak, then said, “Now that I’m here, I don’t know how to say it. This isn’t about Bridget, okay? It’s … well, I met Erica remember? It’s bloody unbelievable to think now that I asked her out right before all this happened.” Franky chuckled uncomfortably. It seemed like an eternity ago that Clive had told them at The Vine that he was interested in a woman named Erica Davidson. “I know when she’s in a room that every other woman fades away. But are you sure you know what you’re doing, Franky?”

“Nuh,” Franky said without reservation. “But that doesn’t matter.”

“What does that mean?”

“Literally, it doesn’t matter.” Franky found that for the first time since she and Erica got together she wanted to talk about how she felt. “Look, Clive, I just fell utterly in love with her. Have you ever desired and been desired so much that -“

“No.”

“It was like an earthquake.”

“You used to make fun of me for saying things like that. You used words like “trust” and ‘responsibility”. You used to say” - he pointed his fork at Franky - “that only idiots said things like “it just happened” or “it was like an earthquake”.”

“What do you want me to say?”

Clive looked at Franky with a clinical interest. “How did you get together?” he asked.

“We saw each other on a street.”

“And that was that?”

“Yep.”

“You just saw each other and leapt into bed?”

“Yep.”

“It’s just lust, Franky. You can’t throw away your whole life for lust.”

“Fuck off, Clive.” He seemed to accept that as a reasonable answer. So Franky continued, “Erica is everything. I’d do anything for her. And I’m not throwing my life away for fuck’s sake. I’m still working for Flintoff and Jones, it’s just I’ll be in Sydney now.”

Clive laughed. “Ok, ok, I get it. I’m just checking up on you that’s all.”

“No need, mate. I’m happy.” She took a sip of her wine. “This lunch is on you by the way, I’ll shout when you come and visit me in Sydney,” she smiled and gave Clive a wink. Clive smiled back. He had been appeased.

******

Pauline’s pregnancy was beginning to show, and her face, normally so pale and severe, looked plump and rosy. Her dark hair, which she usually tied back, fell on to her shoulder. She looked young and pretty and happy. She and Franky were shy with each other, courteous and making an effort. Franky tried to remember what they used to talk about when they saw each other back in the pre-Erica days: everything and nothing, she supposed; casual bits of gossip, hushed confidences, intimate inanities which were like verbal acts of affect. They used to giggle. Be silent. Argue and make up. This evening, however, they had to work hard to keep their conversation from flagging, and whenever the was a pause one of them would rush to fill it.

They went to a film then went to a pub. Pauline had tomato juice and Franky had gin. They discussed the bad film rather tamely, until suddenly Franky couldn’t bear it any longer. “How’s Bridget?” Franky asked.

“All right,” Pauline said blankly.

“No, I really mean how is she. I want to know.

Pauline looked at Franky shrewdly. Franky didn’t look away, or smile meaninglessly, and when Pauline spoke it felt like a kind of victory for something. “The plan was that you two were going to be together forever, have children. Then it all changed. She told me that everything was going well and that it came out of the blue. Is that true?”

Franky nodded. “Pretty much.”

“She was so wrong about you.” Franky didn’t speak. “She was, wasn’t she? Did you love her?”

Franky thought back to the distant days of her and Bridget. “Of course I did. And I loved you. We were like a big family. I think I thought the same as she did. I felt I was betraying you as well. I still think that. Now I feel like an outsider when I’m with you.”

“That’s what its all about, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Being an outsider. Choosing the sexy blonde goddess and giving everything up for her. Great fantasy.” Pauline’s voice was flat and faintly contemptuous.

“That’s not how it is.”

“Has anyone told you that you look different from three months ago?”

“No, they haven’t.”

“Well, you do.”

“How?”

Pauline looked at Franky reflectively with an almost hard expression. Franky wondered whether she was hitting back at her.

“You look a bit thinner,” she said. “You’re dressing differently.You’re dressing more casually, more grundgy, like you did years ago when I first met you. Three months ago you seemed ordered and composed. Now” - she stared at Franky, and Franky all of a sudden felt slightly self-conscious - “you look a bit, well, wild.”

“I’m not composed,” Franky said, truculently. “I don’t think I ever was. But you, on the other hand, look great.”

Pauline smiled a smile of contained satisfaction. “It’s the pregnancy,” she purred. “You should try it sometime.”

When Franky got home Erica was asleep. Franky threw off her clothes and jumped in the shower. She thought back on the night and was satisfied. At the very least she felt like she and Pauline were now at peace with each other. She had to remember that Pauline was Bridget’s sister. There was no way she would ever give Franky her approval or wish her well. Civility was the best she could hope for and she had achieved that.

She climbed into bed and spooned herself behind Erica, warm and clean, smelling of soap. She put her hands on Erica’s breasts and kissed her neck.

“How was it?” Erica murmured.

“Ok. I’m glad to be home.”

******

ONE WEEK LATER

******

It was a Saturday afternoon. Erica, hands filled with grocery bags, entered the trendy little apartment in Surry Hills that she and Franky had a leased. Franky was in the kitchen drinking a beer. She jumped up and and helped Erica unpack everything. She took Erica’s coat off and rubbed her fingers, which were cramped from carrying the bags back from the supermarket. She put the ready-roasted chicken and the different cheeses in the fridge. She poured Erica a glass of wine, placed it on the counter then wrapped her arms around her.

“I missed you,” Franky said and kissed the side of Erica’s jaw.

“I was only gone an hour,” Erica replied with a smile.

“Oh. Yeah,” Franky chuckled. Her hands slid down and cupped Erica’s buttocks. She held her very tightly, kissed her neck. “Your skin feels all silky today.” She kissed Erica’s eyelids, then started very slowly to undo the buttons on her shirt. Erica stood quite still as Franky took the shirt off. Then Franky undid Erica’s bra and took that off as well.

“Careful, Franky, the curtains are open. Someone could see us.”

“Does that bother you?”

Erica shook her head, no. “Take of your jeans. And your knickers,” Franky commanded. Erica did.

Franky’s fingers crept up Erica’s thigh and met bare, slick heat. “I’ve never performed in front of a Sydney audience before,” Franky said.

Erica bit her lip to keep from giggling. She failed, laughing so hard that Franky couldn’t help but laugh with her.

“Don’t you want to put on a show?” Franky teased.

Erica wrapped her arms tightly around Erica’s neck. She reached up so her mouth was millimetres away from Franky’s. “Shut up and fuck me,” she whispered.

Franky licked the corner of Erica’s mouth and pushed two fingers inside her. “If you say so.”

Erica moaned as Franky moved in and out, picking up speed when Erica’s body rippled with pleasure. She kissed her all over - her forehead, her nose, the point of her nipple. The last one made Erica jump delightfully and Franky felt her tighten around her fingers. She slipped another finger in and Erica slammed her hands down on the countertop.

“Want to go to the bedroom” Franky asked her, panting against her throat.

Erica shook her head. She looked at Franky, her eyes completely electrified, begging for more. “I want you to fuck me here, in the kitchen. Where anyone could see.” Erica’s hands roughly pulled off Franky’s shirt and she nearly ripped off her bra. She held Franky’s breasts in her hands, occasionally letting her thumbs graze the nipples. Franky kept fucking her earnestly, rubbing her clit with her thumb.

Erica continued to moan loudly into Franky’s shoulder. Franky fucked her harder with her fingers until Erica was too overcome to keep touching her. She closed her eyes and leant her head back while Franky bent her head down, licking and biting Erica’s delicious nipples. Erica trembled and Franky could tell she was close. Franky sped up and applied more pressure to her clit.

“Oh, God,” Erica groaned. “Please. Wait.”

“Are you gonna come?” Franky asked, running her nose up Erica’s cheek and inhaling the scent of her perfume mixed with the saltiness of her flesh. She licked her lips and pressed them to Erica’s ear. “You gonna come all over my fingers?”

Franky felt Erica grow wetter as her she squeezed Franky’s fingers rhythmically. She let out a sharp gasp and then cried, “Yes. Oh, god, yeah.”

Roughly kissing Erica’s neck. Franky rammed her fingers in harder. Erica writhed between Franky and the counter. All that held her up were Franky’s fingers insider her and Franky’s other arm wrapped around her waist. She came hard, screaming loudly and unashamedly. Franky helped Erica ride out the orgasm for as long as possible. She relished the feeling of her fingers being coated again and again with Erica’s sweet nectar.

A few minutes later, Erica floated down to earth. Her heavy eyelashes flicked up and she pinned Franky with an almost feral stare. Her face approached Franky’s slowly. She kissed her passionately, then took her hand and led her to the bedroom. Erica pushed Franky down onto the bed. Franky smiled up at her. She loved seeing Erica overwhelmed by passion and aggressively going after what she wanted.

Erica tore off Franky’s jeans and panties and tossed them over her shoulder. She climbed on top of Franky, kissing her deeply. Her full, damp lips travelled down, over Franky’s throat, skimming across her collarbone, down to her breasts where her mouth lingered. Her eyes caught Franky’s as her tongue slipped out slowly and ran against Franky’s nipple. It had been hard before, but now it was almost painfully so.

Erica clamped down on the nipple, sucking it with relentless passion. When she had given it the required attention, she moved on to the other breast. Franky’s hips began lifting on their own accord, not-so-subtly hinting to Erica at what she wanted. Erica obliged, moving her hand down and using her finger to carefully separate Franky’s slick folds, just grazing the edge of her clit. Then she pushed it inside. Franky moaned and reached for Erica’s blonde hair, tugging on it gently.

Erica brought her mouth to Franky’s so they should share a passionate kiss as she explored her. Another finger joined the one, probing deeper. She pulled back, panting even harder than Franky was, and watched her lover’s face as she slipped another finger and increased her speed.

"Shall I put my mouth on you?" Erica asked. The hand between Franky’s thighs moved away.

Franky kept thinking "please, please, please" but she couldn't even get the words out. Erica obviously knew what her lover wanted and smirked as she bent down for another kiss.

She took mercy on Franky and crept down her body, her tongue sliding out to lick here and there. When she got to Franky’s right hipbone, she swirled her tongue around in tiny, wet circles. She sucked in Franky’s skin and then released it. Franky stared down her body at Erica, hypnotized by the sparks in her eyes. Erica watched Franky watch her. Then she dipped her tongue into Franky’s wetness. The sight was so erotic Franky nearly came right then.

Erica ran her tongue across Franky’s lips in long glides, always managing to skip her clit. Franky grabbed onto the sheets and chased Erica’s mouth with her hips every time the blonde pulled away to chuckle teasingly.

Franky’s hands couldn't take it anymore and frantically reached for her own breasts. Her nipples were desperately hard, and when she twisted them between her fingers a delicious chill went through her body.

Erica continued to go down on her. She moaned into Franky’s flesh and worked her tongue inside. Franky couldn't take it anymore and began pleading - something she had never done before. She had no idea what words and promises poured forth from her in those pleasure-wracked moments; she just knew Erica kept fucking her with her tongue. She continued dragging her to the precipice of orgasm and then she would pull back. It was maddening.

After what felt like an eternity, Erica’s fingers went to Franky’s clit. Everything tightened.

Erica took her mouth away. "Wanna come for me, baby?"

"Fuck. Yes."

Erica licked her finger which was covered in Franky’s wetness. "Will you come for me?” she asked.

"Yeah. Mm, yeah."

Erica disappeared from between Franky’s thighs. Franky would have protested had Erica not positioned herself so that her soft, wet pussy moved against Franky’s. Erica moved on her quickly but carefully, grinding herself against Franky’s clit. Erica’s milky white skin pushed against Franky’s tanned thighs. It was all too much. With one last thrust against her clit, Franky was coming like she'd never come before. Her cries were hardly recognizable.

Somewhere amidst her bliss, Erica had returned to crouching between Franky’s legs. She fucked Franky with her tongue tortuously fast. Then she soothed her with it, caressing her as she came down.

“Holy fuck,” Franky said when she finally got her breath back.

Erica gave Franky one last lick before joining her at the top of the bed. Franky reached for one of Erica’s breasts, pinching a nipple. Erica’s breath hitched. She opened her mouth to say something but Franky reached over and took the nipple into her mouth, running her tongue over it. Erica groaned and fisted Franky’s hair.

Franky pulled away, smiling wide. "I've created a monster,” she said.

Erica laughed. "Are you sorry?"

“No way," Franky said immediately, reaching up to kiss her. She sucked Erica’s bottom lip into her mouth before letting go and rolling back onto the bed. She stretched out on the sheets, feeling relaxed and wonderful. Erica had given that to her. Her hand went to Erica’a thigh, encouraging the blonde to roll on to her side and hook her leg around Franky’s firm body.

Entwined like that, both women closed their eyes. “I love you,” Erica whispered into Franky’s ear as they drifted into a luxurious slumber.

“Love you too, babe.”