2. Beyond The Breakwater

“Yes,” Tory said firmly, entwining her fingers with her lover’s as she smiled into Reese’s eyes. “We’re ready.”

“Come on back then,” Wendy said, opening the door to a dimly lit room.

There was a carpet on the floor, which struck Tory as odd. She was so used to the harsh lights and institutional tiles of examining rooms. And the air was warm, with a hint of vanilla teasing at the edges of her awareness. Nothing cold, nothing sterile, nothing clinical about it.

“Why don’t the two of you get settled, and I’ll be right back,” the doctor said as she closed the door, leaving them alone.

Slowly, Tory undressed. Reese took each garment and folded it carefully, placing the clothes on a small table against one wall. She handed Tory a white terrycloth robe that had been left for them.

“Cold?” Reese asked gently.

“I’m fine, honey.”

Tory eased up onto the table, glad that the surface was covered with a soft, cotton sheet. Reese covered her with another, then pulled a chair close to the head of the table and sat down. She threaded the fingers of one hand into Tory’s hair and took her lover’s hand with the other. Tory turned her head so that their faces were only inches apart.

“Are you sure this won’t hurt?” Reese asked, unable to hide her concern. You mean everything to me.

“No. I won’t feel anything.”

There was a knock on the door. “Ready?”

The two women smiled, and Tory called, “Yes.”

Tory continued to look into Reese’s eyes, listening with only part of her mind to the doctor quietly arranging a tray. When Wendy softly instructed her to slide down and lift her legs, she complied without breaking eye contact with her lover. Reese’s hand was strong and warm, enclosing hers.

After a moment, Wendy murmured, “Here we go.”

Reese touched her forehead to Tory’s, and together they whispered, “I love you.

March, East Village, Manhattan, NYC

The rail-thin, young man with short, spiked hair wore a shapeless black T-shirt and equally formless black denim pants that hung precariously from his nonexistent rear end. In the tiny kitchen of a fourth floor walk up, he approached a petite blond, also in black jeans that actually fit her trim form and a midriff-baring, white crop-top that exposed a softly curved belly adorned with a silver navel ring. “Great party, Carre. Any more beer?”

“In the fridge.” The three studs in the rim of Caroline Clark’s left ear glinted as she turned to refill a bowl of pretzels from a bag on the counter. “It’s nice to get the midterm projects over, huh?”

“For sure. Did you hear about Paris yet?”

“Just that they got all my application materials,” she replied, her smile fading slightly as she thought of spending her junior year abroad. She wanted to go, because the chance to study and paint in France was like a dream come true. But when she actually pictured herself there, so far away from everything she knew, everyone she loved…

“What about Bri? She going, too?”

Caroline hesitated. “I…we haven’t really talked about it.”

“Where is she tonight, anyhow? She’s missing all the fun.”

“At the dojo.” Caroline glanced at the clock uneasily. It was after 11:00 p.m., and Bri’s class ended at 9:30. Bri knew that Caroline was having friends over from school, and Caroline tried to ignore the stab of hurt at her lover’s absence. Now that she thought about it, Bri had been even quieter than usual the last few weeks. She seemed to be training even more, if that were humanly possible, and coming home later and later. For the first time in the four years they’d been together, Caroline felt uncertain of what was happening between them.

“What?” Caroline asked when she realized that her friend James was still speaking.

“The black belt thing…that’s happening soon for her, right?”

“Oh. Yes. Sometime this year.”

“Man, that’s amazing.” James leaned against the counter and fished a handful of potato chips from an open bag beside him. The two of them moved closer together as another woman squeezed in beside them, muttering that she was looking for ice. “She, like, practices every day, doesn’t she?”

“Almost.” Sometimes Caroline thought that Bri’s training was the most important thing in her life. She knew for a fact that the martial arts were much more important to her lover than college. Not for the first time, she thought that Bri had only come to Manhattan to be with her. That if they had stayed in Provincetown, Bri would have been just as happy. Maybe more. It wasn’t that Brianna wasn’t intelligent, because she was. She just chafed at schedules and deadlines and inactivity.

When they’d talked about going away to college, Bri had simply said that she would go anywhere that Caroline wanted to go. When Caroline received the scholarship to the Parsons School of Design in Manhattan, it had seemed like an ideal solution. It wasn’t that far from Cape Cod, so they could still get home easily. There were plenty of schools where Bri could enroll, and Reese Conlon knew of a dojo where Bri could train. Bri had settled on the city university, because it was affordable and offered a solid curriculum in criminology. She wanted to go into law enforcement, like her father and Reese.

When they found the tiny apartment in alphabet city, the student/artist enclave in Greenwich Village, life had seemed perfect. For Caroline, it still was.

“I’d better get back out there,” Caroline said, grabbing a bottle of beer for herself.

“Later,” he called as he reached for more chips.

The front door was just closing behind Bri as Caroline walked into the crowded living room, which also happened to be their bedroom when the sofa bed was pulled out. Caroline stepped over extended legs and threaded her way around the bowls and bottles on the floor until she reached her lover. Standing on tiptoe, she slipped one arm around Bri’s shoulder and gave her a quick kiss on the mouth. “Hi.

Bri, taller than Caroline by a head, was in her usual outfit—tight, threadbare blue jeans, multi-zippered leather jacket, and heavy black motorcycle boots. She put both arms around her girlfriend and pulled her close, squeezing gently. Caroline always smelled like the shampoo she used, some combination of fruit and spices. Just the scent of her could make Bri wet. “Hey, babe. How’s it going?”

“Okay. Missed you.”

“Sorry.” Bri let her go and shrugged out of her jacket. The black T-shirt was stretched tight across her muscled chest and shoulders, her breasts smooth shadows beneath the thin cotton. Narrow-hipped and broad-shouldered, hard-bodied from years of jujitsu, she exuded danger and a seething sexuality.

“Come on,” Caroline said, taking her hand. “You want something? A beer?”

“Sure,” Bri replied, allowing her girlfriend to pull her though the crowd. She was happy that Carre hadn’t asked her why she was late, but she’d seen the hurt in her lover’s deep green eyes just the same. Fuck. I have to tell her soon.

CHAPTER FOUR

By 2:00 a.m., everyone had gone. Discarded bottles and half-empty bowls of snacks lay scattered around the room, but the apartment had survived the crush of partiers in fairly good shape. Caroline and Bri were nestled on the couch where they had collapsed after bidding goodnight to the last of their friends. The room lights were off, and a few candles provided the only illumination. Bri, cradling Caroline in her arms, leaned against the corner of the sofa with the smaller woman lying between her out-stretched legs.

“I guess we should open the bed,” Bri murmured, nuzzling her lips in Caroline’s fragrant hair. She rubbed her palm slowly up and down Caroline’s stomach, brushing the navel ring back and forth. Every now and then, she tugged it between her fingers. “Carre? Babe? You awake?”

“Mmm hmm.” Caroline turned on her side and pressed her hips between Bri’s thighs. “It’s awfully nice right here.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Bri tilted Caroline’s chin up and found her lips, exploring with the tip of her tongue along the sensitive inner surfaces. They’d kissed thousands of times, but every time she was struck anew by how incredibly soft those lips were. Within seconds, Bri felt herself swell and grow hard.

“I love to kiss you,” Bri murmured.

“Mmm. Me, too.” Caroline rested her hand on Bri’s chest, rhythmically brushing her thumb across the peak of her lover’s tight nipple. She knew that would make Bri crazy.

After a minute, Bri said urgently, “Come on. Let’s open the bed and get our clothes off.”

“Not yet,” Caroline said with gentle firmness. “I’m too comfortable. Just kiss me again.”

Bri knew what Carre was doing, and as much as it frustrated her, it excited her tremendously, too. Surrendering to the sweet torture, Bri groaned and kissed Caroline hard, her tongue inside the warm mouth now. Minutes—hours—passed, she couldn’t tell how long. Her head was light, her legs heavy, and her breath hissed from her chest in uneven spurts. Somewhere in the midst of their kisses, Caroline had turned on her stomach and lay face down between Bri’s open thighs, thrusting her hips in time with their questing tongues.

Bri clasped Caroline’s butt in her hands, pulling her lover hard against her crotch, trying unsuccessfully to satisfy the pressure building precariously inside.

“You feel so good,” Bri whispered.

Caroline’s only response was a soft whimper.

The sound of her lover’s pleasure snapped the tenuous threads of Bri’s control, and she wrapped one firm arm around Caroline’s waist and twisted until the smaller woman was beneath her. She grasped the lower edge of the diminutive crop top and pushed it up, lowering her mouth to the soft, full breast.

Caroline arched and cried out as Bri sucked the nipple into her mouth. She fisted her hands in Bri’s hair, pulling frantically as the pleasure streaked from her breast through her belly. “Bri…ooh, you make me so hot.”

Never moving her lips from Caroline’s breast, Bri eased away enough to get her hand between them. Deftly, she opened Caroline’s jeans and began to push them down over her hips.

“Oh, yes.” Caroline lifted her hips, grasped her jeans with one hand, and helped her lover bare her body. With her lips pressed to Bri ear, she begged, “I’m so excited. Make me come, Bri.”

Bri groaned. Nothing had ever made her feel at once so powerful and so hopelessly inadequate. That Caroline would want her, would trust her so completely, nearly broke her heart. She pressed her forehead to Caroline’s breast, murmuring fervently, “I love you so damn much.”

“I know… I know… oh, love me now.” Eyes closed, head twisting helplessly against the arm of the sofa, Caroline pushed Bri down.

Moving fast, Bri knelt on the floor, her hands beneath Caroline’s hips, pulling her forward to the edge of the couch and lifting her easily on her powerful forearms. “Oh, baby, I love you.”

Then Bri lowered her head and stroked the slick folds with her tongue, holding tight as Caroline jerked at the first light touch. When she took the distended clitoris between her lips, Caroline’s cries echoed the thundering of her own fierce passion. With her mouth, with her hands, with her lips, she paid homage to the love that had saved her sanity and shaped her life.

When Caroline climaxed, trembling and whimpering, Bri squeezed her eyes closed and groaned with the answering surge between her own thighs. She rocked her pelvis against the sofa, the seam of her jeans riding over her clitoris. The faint pressure was more than enough to trigger her oversensitive nerve endings, and she came instantly, shuddering with the force of it. Her hoarse cries mingled with her lover’s last soft moans.

“Bri? Honey?” Caroline questioned weakly, trailing her fingers over her lover’s face. Bri’s cheek was pressed to her stomach, and Caroline’s hand came away wet. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Bri lied.

Caroline sat up and leaned forward, her arms resting on her lover’s broad shoulders. “You are.”

Kneeling, encircled in Caroline’s embrace, Bri looked away. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry.”

“I don’t think you’ve done that since the first time. Remember?”

Caroline’s voice was gentle, and Bri thought of the warm summer nights in the dunes—innocently making love beneath the stars with the sounds of the surf in the background. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I remember.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Bri insisted.

“You have to tell me.” Caroline gave Bri a small shake. “Something hasn’t been right for a long time. Ever since Christmas.”

“I don’t how to explain.”

Caroline’s heart lurched. Suddenly, for the first time in her memory, she was frightened of something that Bri might say. “Is there…someone else?”

“No! Jesus.” Bri put her palms on either side of her lover’s face and kissed her swiftly. “Never.”

“Then what?”

“I want to quit school.”

Caroline jerked back. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to be here next year while you’re in France.” She hadn’t wanted to say that. But it was the truth.

“Oh.” The sound was small, surprised.

Neither of them said anything for long moments, until finally Bri got to her feet and moved as far away as the small room would allow. She leaned against the doorway that joined the kitchen and the living room and pushed her hands into the back pockets of her jeans.

“I won’t go then,” Caroline said quietly as she hastily rearranged her clothing. Brushing a hand through her disheveled hair, she smiled tremulously. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because I want you to go,” Bri said forcefully. “You want to go. Fuck…you should go.”

Bri turned and walked into the kitchen, jerking open the small refrigerator door and pulling out a bottle of beer. Viciously, she twisted off the top and threw it into the trash. She turned to find Caroline framed in the doorway, staring at her with wounded eyes. “I can’t go with you, Carre. You know that.”

“What would you do?”

Bri looked away.

“Bri?”

“I applied to the Sheriff’s department in Barnstable.”

“You’re going to move back to the Cape?”

“Yeah.”

Caroline felt like she had plummeted into another world. “When did you apply?”

“January.”

“You didn’t tell me.” It was a statement, not an accusation.

“I didn’t want you to change your mind about Paris.”

“Oh, Bri.” Caroline hadn’t meant to cry, but the tears came before she could stop them. She felt so sad, and so helpless to change events that already seemed to be moving too fast.

Stunned, Bri put the bottle on the counter and rapidly strode across the small space. She pulled Caroline into her arms and buried her face in her hair. “I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.”

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” Caroline pressed hard against Bri’s body, needing the solid reassurance of her presence.

“Sure. Anything you want.” Bri kissed Caroline’s forehead. “It will be okay, babe.”

But somehow, they both knew that wasn’t true.