DISCLAIMER: The characters of Olivia Spencer, Natalia Rivera and Frank Cooper are the sole property of Procter & Gamble, Telenext and CBS. They are being used for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being gained.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have used some of the actual dialog from the March 11, 2009 episode of Guiding Light. Other than that, the story itself is my own creation, is entirely fictional, and is based on my imagination about how that scene in the farmhouse kitchen might have played out differently.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

No Regrets
By Formerlurker


"Maybe God has someone for me, and it's just not who I expected," I told her. I waited, but she didn't respond. Several seconds ticked by, and I realized she wouldn't comment. Maybe she hadn't understood. "I just don't want to regret anything," I added, and I turned my back to her and tore off a paper towel from the roll next to the sink. I dried my hands. It gave me something to do, something besides wait for her to say something, anything. Finally she spoke.

"Funny, I was just talking about that, about regret, and how......what it would be like to make decisions based on what someone else might think." I wasn't sure what she meant by that. Part of me thought she understood me, what I was trying to say. Part of me wanted her to understand, so I wouldn't have to actually say it, put it into words that I couldn't take back. But I still wasn't sure.

"Why am I so afraid?" I asked. Surely she would understand that. Marrying Frank wouldn't cause fear. Either I wanted to or I didn't want to. That's what I had tried to tell her, tried to explain to her earlier. Either I loved him or I didn't. If I loved him and wanted to marry him, it wouldn't make me feel afraid. Something like that should make me feel happy, loved, secure, if I wanted it. But I didn't want it. I never felt any fear about saying yes to Frank's proposal, because I never had any intention of accepting it. I knew I didn't love Frank. Surely the fact that I hadn't said yes must mean something to her. Who did that? If I loved Frank, I should have told him yes immediately. I shouldn't have held back, and I surely shouldn't have been having this kind of conversation with Olivia. Why couldn't she see that?

But this time she didn't hesitate at all. This time she responded immediately. "Because, it's... new and different, and that's scary," she whispered, her eyes avoiding mine. So that was it. She was afraid of this thing between us, this thing that neither of us could talk about openly, that neither of us was willing to name. There it was. Olivia was afraid. I couldn't push her toward something that frightened her. Could I? I resigned myself to the fact that nothing could possibly happen between us. Not now.

I changed the subject......slightly. I talked about Frank's proposal. She didn't even notice the sarcasm in my words. I suppose I was too subtle. But the old Olivia would have gotten it, would have run with it. The old Olivia would have had a field day with my assertion that Frank proposed to me because he respects my religion. I missed the old Olivia. I knew she was still in there somewhere, but for some reason she wouldn't show herself now. I could have used one deliciously snarky comment about Frank "respecting" my religion. Then we both could have laughed about it, enjoyed the absurdity of it. But she let me down. She said she just wanted me to be happy. Well, I was anything but happy. Couldn't she see that?

She left the kitchen, and I felt my heart breaking a little more. I went back to washing dishes. I took down all the good china, and decided to wash it too. I needed something constructive to do with my hands. There was something comforting about feeling the hot water on my hands, methodically rubbing the soapy dish rag over the front and then the back of each dish, rinsing the dish under the hot running water, and adding it to the stack in the drainer. This simple task gave my mind something to do, besides wander off to places that stirred long suppressed desires. I knew that Frank had never stirred those desires, and never would. My one-time lapse of sleeping with him was a futile attempt to convince myself that the desires didn't exist. But I knew they did. I had known it for a while. I knew it for sure when Olivia and Emma threatened to move out. I tried to tell myself I just needed the rent money, but I knew it was more than that, even then. I finally just got tired of trying to convince myself, and just when I was on the verge of telling her how I felt, Frank had to go and propose to me.

I should have just told him no right away, but I couldn't decide how to do it, what to say, and I thought I would give myself time to come up with the perfect rejection. I wanted to reject him without hurting him too much. It was ridiculous. It was a huge mistake. Because now, Olivia thought I hadn't told him no because I might still say yes. As always, my hesitation was proving to be my biggest downfall.

I was standing there, verbally chastising myself with each clean dish I added to the drainer, when I felt arms slipping around my waist, and hot breath against my cheek. "I don't want to regret anything either," she whispered into my ear. The plate I had been washing slid from my hands back into the sink. I hadn't heard her come back. Either she was that quiet, or I had been concentrating so much that I hadn't heard her walk back across the worn planks of the old farmhouse kitchen. I gripped my hands on the edge of the counter to steady myself, but I felt myself leaning back against her, pressing my body against hers, and then her lips were soft and warm against my neck. The kiss only lasted a second, and I felt her withdrawing her arms, moving backwards into the kitchen, away from me. In one more second, she would be gone.

I quickly placed my hands over hers and pressed her arms tightly around me again. "Please....." I started, and then couldn't think of what I could say after that. What did I want from her? Could I tell her, even if I could figure it out? So I said the only other thing that popped into my head at that moment, "Please, don't stop."

"You don't mean that," she said, her lips against my shoulder, her voice low and desperate. Why was she questioning me, making me say more, when I was barely able to utter the words I had already said? I needed ...... something. I knew she could give it to me. Frank couldn't, but she could. My hands were clasped around her wrists, still pressing her arms around my waist.

I felt a wave of courage, or maybe it was insanity, wash over me. It made me bolder than I am, than I have ever been. That's the only explanation I can think of for what happened next. I decided to show her what I meant, and I threaded my fingers through hers, and pulled those arms tighter around me. Then, I lifted one of her hands so that it slid upward, over my breast. I heard her gasp against my neck, and I felt my stomach drop, and a persistent throbbing commence further down. "Do you see how it is?" I asked her.

"Yes," she whispered, her lips grazing my ear lobe. Her breasts were pressed against my back. I could feel them, even through my sweater, but I wanted more. I pressed my body back into hers again, and threw my head backward, trying to get closer. I felt her lips move down my neck, her teeth scraping my skin, her tongue flicking out to heal the scraped parts with a sensual caress.

I turned around and looked at her, her eyes dark with passion, her lips parted, her breathing ragged. She was still inches away from me. She hadn't moved away when I turned. Now, she moved even closer, her body pressing against mine again, breasts, bellies and thighs touching. I slipped my arms around her and leaned forward slightly, so close, but not quite ready to move any further, hovering on the edge of ecstasy. Then she made the decision and closed the gap, and our lips melted together. Hers were like velvet against mine.

I had fantasized about this since that other kiss. I knew someday I would kiss her again, someday when we both wanted it, when we couldn't wait one more minute to feel those sensations again. Only this time, she was taking her time, and I wasn't pulling away in surprise. This time I discovered how perfect her mouth felt against mine, and how right it felt to slip my tongue between those soft lips that had haunted my dreams since that other kiss, to find her tongue waiting for me, eagerly, to hear her breath catch in surprise, and then feel her sigh of pleasure against my lips. This time, when our lips finally parted, our arms remained around each other, and our eyes held, finally daring to show each other what we had been feeling for so long. This time, there were no regrets.

The End

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