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Two Beautiful is not a word Helen would have ever used to describe herself before she met Nikki Wade. Helen’s mother had told her often how pretty she was, and Helen believed it. But then, when she was only a little girl, Helen’s mother had died; and for a time Helen thought all the beautiful things in the world had died with her. Helen’s father had carried on with his life the way clergymen do, admonishing Helen to buck up: she would see her mother again one day so long as she kept to The Commandments and attended church. Though Alan Stewart was not a man to pause for beauty, Helen hoped every day that he might compliment her. She understood his silence on the subject to mean disapproval, and so she believed him, too – as children always believe their parents. Men had said she was beautiful over the years: a host of Sean Parrs, looking to get laid. Helen didn’t fault them, but she didn’t believe them either. And then she’d made love with Nikki. The first night – the night of Nikki’s escape – they’d fallen together feverishly: lips and tongues and limbs tangled together, as each woman made a febrile effort to press as much skin against the other as possible. Time and uncertainty pounded away at them, stealing any real hope of intimacy; the night ended with Nikki alone in her cell, and Helen sobbing outside the walls of Larkhall. After Nikki’s release, she and Helen spent six days alone in Helen’s flat – in Helen’s bed – making up, making love, making promises. “You are so beautiful, Helen,” Nikki told her, as they lay in bed their first night together. Slowly she traced patterns on Helen’s bare torso. Helen had been unable to meet Nikki’s eyes, so Nikki tilted Helen’s chin toward her, and said, “Did you not know?” Helen shook her head, tears filling her eyes. Nikki brushed them away as they fell down her cheeks, and then whispered, “Let me show you.” Nikki kissed Helen’s eyelids, and praised the saturated hues of her irises. She kissed her cheeks and extolled the way they flushed when she was aroused. She kissed her lips and told how Helen’s smile had brought hope into her darkness. She kissed Helen’s jaw line, her collarbone, her neck, her “perfect” nipples, her belly button. She worked her way down Helen’s body, and then back up again, and by the time Helen’s climax racked through her, her throat was too constricted with emotion to speak. She choked out Nikki’s name between breaths and tears, and when they finally left her flat a week later, Helen was convinced that, behind Nikki, she was the most beautiful woman in the whole of Britain. So as Nikki’s chin rested on her hands, and she gazed across the dinner table, meeting Helen’s eyes, it took all of the willpower Helen Stewart possessed not to reach over and pull Nikki across the table to her. Nikki Wade thought she was beautiful, and Helen believed her more than she’d ever believed anyone. “Nikki will do the honeymoon,” Trish offered, seizing the list from Claire. “Yeah, I will,” Nikki confirmed, her eyes still locked with Helen’s. Somehow Nikki knew what she’d been thinking; Helen felt her body flush with anticipation. Trish rolled her eyes. “Then Helen will do the invitations,” Claire said. She marked it down on both hers and Helen’s calendars. “Just give your list of invitees and addresses to Helen by, yeah Nikki? We’ll mail them in the next few days.” Nikki nodded, her eyes fixed on Helen. “Helen,” Trish said, looking over the list once more. “Isn’t your father a pastor or something? You could have him do the ceremony, couldn’t you? That might be nice.” Helen’s unsnapped her gaze from Nikki and whipped around to face Claire. “Er… I…I don’t know if he’s available.” “Of course he’s available!” Trish countered. “It’s your wedding day; where else would he be?” “Right,” Helen said, drinking deeply from her water glass. “I’ll… um… I’ll see about it.” “Okay.” Claire cut in, for which Helen was monumentally grateful. “Where do you two want to get married?” “In a church,” Helen said automatically, just as Nikki said, “In a park.” Helen grinned. Perhaps it hadn’t occurred to Nikki that they were getting married the week before Christmas, and that London’s winter weather was tempestuous on its best days. Nikki loved the freedom of being outdoors; she once told Helen that the fresh air was full of promises. Of course she’d want to be married in a park. “Actually, I think a park would be rather nice,” Helen said. “In the middle of winter?!” Trish exclaimed. “You two really are mad.” “As pants,” Nikki agreed, reaching across the table for Helen’s hand. “It’s what keeps us warm.” “That and the fucking,” Trish responded. After Nikki had paid for dinner (“It’s the least I can do; you two really are saving our arses here.”) she spoke to Trish privately for a moment, and then offered to drive Helen home. Helen wanted to know why Nikki wasn’t going in to the club, but Nikki just smiled. “I think you promised to make something up to me.” “You just want to drive the Peugeot,” Helen said. Nikki pulled Helen to her by the lapels of her coat and kissed her deeply; Helen did not protest when Nikki said, “I’ll bring you back to the Peugeot in the morning.” --- “I can’t get–” Helen walked backwards, pulling Nikki with her through the door of their flat. Her left hand clutched Nikki’s shirt; her right arm was caught in the sleeve of her own. Her lips were already swollen from assaulting Nikki at every traffic light between the restaurant and their home. Nikki’s feeble protests that they were going to get in a wreck were silenced all together when Helen smoothed her hand up Nikki’s thigh and down the front of her trousers. Nikki managed to work Helen’s arm free and get her own shirt off before Helen pressed her up against the door they’d just come through. Socks, shoes, and pants were discarded in the foyer, and as Helen led Nikki to their bedroom she momentarily wondered if she and Nikki would ever grow tired pawing each other like teenagers. If the decision fell to Helen, she knew what the answer would be. She was intoxicated with Nikki Wade, and given the choice between stretching out on top of Nikki’s body and doing practically anything else, she would always choose Nikki. They fell together onto the bed, and Helen immediately rolled Nikki over to straddle her waist. Helen smoothed her hair back from her eyes, and stared intently down at Nikki. There was nothing sexier than Nikki Wade – flushed and panting – pinned beneath her hips. Helen undid the front clasp of Nikki’s bra, and trailed her fingertips up the sides of Nikki’s creamy breasts, and back down. Nikki breathed encouragement, so Helen ran a finger over Nikki’s collarbone, and neck, following her finger with her tongue. She teased her way back down to Nikki’s breasts, ignoring her nipples completely. Nikki grinned up at Helen. “Taking back a little bit of that control Claire snatched from you tonight, eh?” Helen met Nikki’s playful eyes. “This isn’t about control,” she said, running her thumbs over Nikki’s nipples, which pebbled beneath her touch. Nikki arched off the bed; her breathing quickened again. “Oh yeah?” she said, as Helen slid down her body, dragging her tongue from Nikki’s throat to the soft expanse between her breasts to her stomach, which was already beginning to bead with sweat. “What’s it about?” Helen nudged Nikki’s thighs apart with her knee, and covered her mouth in a searing kiss. When Helen pulled away, she panted, “It’s about loving you.” Slowly, possessively, she trailed her hand down Nikki’s torso and dipped two fingers into her wet center. “It’s always about loving you.” Helen hadn’t anticipated how fast Nikki would climax, or she would have slowed down, but Nikki had been so turned on from dinner and their car ride home, that her thrusting against Helen had been almost frantic, as her body begged for release. As soon as her aftershocks subsided, Nikki rolled on top of Helen. “How close are you?” she asked against Helen’s lips. “Just touch me,” Helen breathed. So Nikki did. --- Hours later Helen and Nikki lay facing each other, smiling lazily, their whispers as muted as the moonlight filtering through their bedroom windows. “They were right, you know,” Nikki said, brushing the back of her fingers against Helen’s cheek. “Who was right?” Helen asked, taking Nikki’s hand and interlacing their fingers together. “Trish and Claire,” Nikki answered. “Wedding talk does make us useless.” “It’s not that I didn’t want to plan,” Helen said. “It’s just that… other things seemed more important.” Nikki agreed. “It’s amazing that we haven’t lost our jobs.” “Or our friends.” Nikki’s chuckle warmed Helen from her core. “D’ya think we really ought to write our own vows?” Helen asked. “What, you mean ‘what God has brought together’ and all that?” Helen considered Nikki for a moment before asking, “Do you believe in God, Nikki?” Nikki stiffened, and Helen’s arm automatically reached round to stroke her back. Nikki thought for a long moment before answering, “It’s complicated.” Helen nodded. “I know.” “Do you?” Nikki asked. “Believe in God, I mean.” “I did when I was growing up. I had to with my dad, didn’t I? Now, though, I don’t know… I’ve seen a lot of suffering.” “Yeah,” Nikki agreed. “But you must at least believe in him a little.” “Why’s that?” “You pray to him a lot.” Helen felt her brows knit together. “Pray to him?” “Yeah, like earlier you were all, ‘Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!’ You must believe in him at least a tiny bit.” Helen reached up to smack Nikki, but Nikki grabbed hold of her wrist and rolled on top of her, pinning Helen’s arms above her head. Helen gasped. She was never going to grow weary of wanting Nikki. My God, they’d been making love for hours, and Helen still responded to her touch. She wanted Nikki again and again and again. It was almost insatiable. “Helen?” Nikki asked, her voice becoming softer. “Did you really want to get married in a church, because if that’s important to you, I…” “Shh,” Helen said. She reached up to gently press her fingers against Nikki’s lips. “I don’t care where we get married, Nicola Wade – so long as you marry me.” “And you’re you sure a park’s okay?” “The middle of Victoria Station is okay – because in the New Year, I am going to stop calling you my girlfriend.” Nikki raised her eyebrows playfully. “You getting a new girlfriend, then?” “Yep,” Helen teased. “Trading my old one in for a newer model.” Nikki released Helen’s hands and made her way down to Helen’s breast. “Oh? I hear you can barely keep up with the model you have now.” Helen was quiet for a long moment. At length, she said, “You know when I come to the club sometimes on Saturday nights?” Nikki grinned. “For the free booze? Yeah, I know those sometimes.” Helen shook her head. “You know how when you have new employees there, or old friends, you introduce me as your girlfriend?” Nikki stopped the exploration of Helen’s breast. “Yeah,” she answered. “That’s okay, isn’t it?” “For now,” Helen said, pressing Nikki’s palm back against her. “But I don’t want to be just your girlfriend forever.” Tears began to sparkle on Nikki’s long eyelashes. “I love you, Helen,” she said seriously. “You’ve never been just my girlfriend.” “I love you, too,” Helen said. “And I don’t care where we get married.” “Not at all?” “No. So long as very soon you start introducing me as your wife.” |
