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Kelly woke up when she felt Tracey slide out from her arms, watched through half-open eyes as she moved around the room, gathering up clothes that had been thrown all over the floor in a lust-driven frenzy earlier that night. Not wanting to alert the older woman to her consciousness, Kelly stayed perfectly still, ignoring the urge to get up and grab Tracey when she heard the door open. She knew she would see her again soon, that it wouldn't be the last time this happened.
She couldn't remember when the first time was, but she remembered in great detail what had happened. She remembered Tracey's hands, everywhere. She remembered her surprise at how easily Tracey had given up control, allowing Kelly's hands and mouth to map out her entire body. She remembered the look of pure ecstacy as that first orgasm washed over Tracey. And she remembered waking up alone the next morning.
Since that night, a pattern had formed. Always at her apartment, never Tracey's. There was never anything gentle or slow or loving about what they did. Tracey was wild, unrestrained, and the romantic part of Kelly was honored that it was she who had been selected to see this side of her partner. The other part knew that she should probably leave. That no matter how wonderful the fleeting moments were, they weren't worth the pain of having to pretend they weren't real. But she couldn't. She couldn't stop, no matter what her brain told her.
When the bedroom door closed, Kelly rolled onto her back, staring at a ceiling she couldn't see, praying for answers she knew she wouldn't get.
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