DISCLAIMER: Guiding Light and its characters are the property of Proctor & Gamble. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, anyone that knows me knows that I'm like a big, big Otalia shipper. Like so big, that I pretty much have no problem with the show and even the current supposedly pregnant Natalia doesn't bother me. And, I'm probably going to go to Otalia hell for this, but here is a Doris/Natalia fic. Takes place in both the past after the 3/16 episode and future after Natalia returns. Blame my damn dream (nightmare?) for this little piece of Otalia hell told from Natalia's POV. Alright, I'm going to go say 5 Hail Marys and do the dishes as atonement now as well as watch some clips to clean my mind's eye.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
In a Gay Bar
By itsalovestory
"There she was...in a gay bar...wearin' a hat."
Your words repeat in my mind as I sit in the red booth in my red dress and in the shadows of the bar. I've been nursing the same cold beer for almost a hour when she walks in. I almost don't see her at first. She's wearing a hat like I expected. Some sort of fedora. But, what I don't expect is what she's wearing. Where is that damn black and red blazer? Nowhere in sight, because she's wearing a dress. That dress is green like envy and clings to her curves. Curves? I'm suddenly dry mouthed as my eyes dart across her body, enjoying the view of her terrain. It's not quite the reaction I get when I see you.
With you, it's more intense. I feel like if I reach out and touch you, that I'll go to both Heaven and Hell in that instant. It's the beginning and the ending and the beginning with you. But, with her, it's like car accident. I know I shouldn't look but I just can't help myself. And, so I sit there and watch her.
Watch as she orders a drink. It looks to be something you would drink, but without those olives. She sits at a table, sipping on her cool concoction. Someone comes up and sits close to her. They're talking almost intimately, and she laughs. She laughs? And, it's loud and lovely with dazzling delight highlighting her face. It makes me grin to think of her here, laughing, almost human instead of the one-dimensional character the town paints her as. Her friend gets up to leave, and that's when my little experiment stops being a field study and starts being something a little more hands-ons as you would say. Our eyes lock.
Shit, our eyes lock and she saunters over towards me. I stand to leave, to escape through some emergency exit or something. It's too late, though, as she stops right in my way. "What's a girl like you, doing in a place like this?" she asks.
I'm not that naive. I've told you that before. Well, I've also told you I have an innocent face. Usually that face is used for pool games and church bake sales. But, tonight I'm going to use it on her. "Just having a drink. It's no big deal. I've worked in places like this. I've even worked here before," I reply, gesturing around the room.
"Hmm...funny. I've never seen you here before on ladies night. You got an itch to scratch?" The only itch I would have is for you, but she's got a point. Why am I here? Is it because of these feelings that I have for you? Or is it all women that make me weak in the knees? I mean I haven't really been looking for anyone. Most of my life was spent pining for Nicky. And, when I found him, I was busy fighting Harley and then you to keep him. Or is it...
My thoughts are interrupted when she leans close to my ear, hot breath on cool skin. "Because if you got an itch, there is somewhere we could go." Her forked-tongue flicks out against my earlobe in such a way that I think I'm talking to the devil herself. Because nobody knows that spot that makes me come ondone. I moan slightly. I must be possessed. So much so that I can't decide if I should call a priest to exorsise my soul or prostitute to exercise my body.
I stand there shocked at my response for a moment. Sensing my desire, she grabs my hand and leads me from the busy bar into the quiet night. A cab comes and we sit in silence as it drives to her place. As soon as she shuts the door to her apartment closed, I push her up against it and kiss her. Hard. My tongue quickly enters her warm, wet mouth, stroking against her own. I am possessed.
We break apart, panting like dogs in heat, our tongues wagging to cool us off. But, it only warms me up. Because, transfixed, I watch hers, in almost slow-motion, move back and forth. Back and forth. I imagine all the places besides my mouth that tongue could be. Like my earlobe again. Or my neck. Or my breasts. I blush at the thought. Or my...
Or my naked body is pushed against crisp sheets on her bed. My fingers frantically fumble as I try to unzip the long, silky dress she's wearing. The offending barrier is finally removed and is thrown to the floor, joining my clothes and my morality.
Not that sex with outside of marriage is wrong or that even sleeping with a woman is wrong. No, it's wrong when you don't love the person. That's why sleeping with Frank after Coop died was such a mistake. It was wrong. This is wrong, too, but it feels, unlike with Frank, entirely too good to stop.
I should stop. I need to stop. There is only one woman, one person I should be sleeping with. You. With you, it wouldn't just be sex. It would be making love.
And, what am I doing now with her? Oh, it's not making love. This is sex. Just sex. Fucking good sex as her fingers and tongue and lips and thighs work in a flash of passion bringing me higher and higher until...until...
...until I wake up in the middle of the night in a shean of sweat. Warm arms encircle my waist. Oh God. No. I try to turn to peer into her face but the arms only close tighter. I look around the room instead to survey the damage. Oh shit. The lamp on the night stand has been knocked over. On the floor, bras and panties are next to my red dress and a green, silky blouse and a pair of dark blue jeans. Blue jeans? I've never seen her in jeans, only you. Only you?
Only you. I am finally able to turn to look into the face of the woman next to me. It's you, with your green eyes smoldering and your auburn hair tousled from a night of tender love making and restful slumber. Your naked flesh is softly pressed against my own, touching me in a multitude of delicious points and planes. I let out a relieved sigh. "Thank God...it was only a dream," I exclaim in a whisper.
"Oh really?" you ask, smiling against my neck.
I lean up and capture your lips in a sweet yet passionate kiss. "Yes, a horrible nightmare."
You chuckle at my response. "Hmm...want to tell me about it, Natalia? Maybe I can make it all go away," you grin wickedly.
"Oh Olivia. Of course you can," I kiss you again and grab your hand, intertwining our fingers. "Well, my dream...was about Doris." Your eyes fly wide. "Oh I know. Tell me about it. Anyways, there she was...in a gay bar...wearin' a hat..."
The End