Work Header

red lips and quivering smiles

Work Text:



Richard took Therese's hand and put it around his neck. She had not wanted to touch him there. During sex he became sweaty and sticky and she did not want to be stuck to him. She moved it once again and once again he put it back on his shoulder. It was as if he could not stand the thought of not touching her for the few minutes they would be doing this. Therese sighed in frustration and he evidently took that as a sigh of excitement: he smiled that smug smile. She cringed and let it be. His sweat was clinging to her forearm, her hand too wet to even grasp at something and she realized a bit late that it was all she could focus on.


The back and forth of his hips was, if not appreciated, at least accepted. She did not know what to do: he was doing all the work. But she did not complain, no. What could she do anyway? Move her own hips upward as to meet him halfway, or try to be on top? She had tried all those things and Richard seemed to like her initiatives, but she simply could never finish what she started. She found it tedious, a tedious, tiring and tiresome activity that set her brain in a turmoil even more than her body. Back and forth, back and forth. Now his face was doing this grimace she began accustomed to. He was close to his orgasm, that meant she had to be close too. She looked down where their bodies met, she did not know what to expect, as if her eyes were going to do all the job and she would come.


He writhed and buckled and she made a face at all this mannerism. She waited for him to come back down from his cloud to squeak a bit in her turn. She had come in his eyes and he glowed, he smiled and kissed her lips clumsily before collapsing beside her.


“Terry, you are going to be the death of me!” He said while arranging his pillows to sleep.


She tried to smile as to not convey the awful transient thought that had popped in her head. I hope I am.




She met ice blue eyes and stupidly she looked down. The weight of those eyes… She could not bear to support it. What if she had dared though? She wanted so much to stare back, but she could not. Therese took out her camera, put it in front of her eyes and finally looked back through the lens. The eyes belonged to a blonde woman. A blonde woman? That was probably the most mediocre description one could make of this woman. Sure she was blonde, but she was so much more at the same time, impossible to describe without picking all her attributes and put them next to laudatory epithets. So she settled on the blonde woman.


She was tall and beautiful. Her attitude was one of a queen. A queen who knew how to rule, who knew how much power she had and what she could do with it. Therese throbbed, she almost hurt inside. All she could do was grind her teeth to contain her flow of emotion. She had been hired with the paper she worked for to cover this Republican gala or fund-raiser organised by one Hargess Aird. She felt uncomfortable here to say the least, thankfully or unfortunately she had those blue eyes.


Armed with her camera she moved through the room unnoticed, except when old smiling men stopped her to have their pictures taken while they were shaking hands with important people. She obliged, that was her job. A photojournalist? Yes she supposed she had become that and a photographer who did artful photos was paid less, if even paid at all. She moved through the people and through the room. She thought of Richard. Why? She did not know but she thought of him, the thought dim and waning. He would not notice her in this room, he would not. She would not notice him either, she knew.


The blonde woman was coming toward her. She raised once again her camera to protect herself. What would she do if she was the sole subject for those deep eyes to look at? She would explode and hurt, hurt so much. Yet she was still coming, moving her hips in a tantalizing way. Therese thought of a nymph gliding through the water and she could not remember if nymphs in mythology were dangerous or not. She simply knew that woman definitely was.


“Hello. My husband insisted to have a family picture taken. Would you mind terribly?” The woman smiled.


Therese's whole body felt shaky and she had to lower her camera to address the woman. “I- of course. It's my job.”


“Yes, I suppose it is.” The woman bit her lip thoughtfully and Therese could not swallow any more. “I don't think I have ever seen you before, have I?”


Therese would remember, she would absolutely, without any doubt remember. “No, no I don't think so.”


“I think I would remember.” She echoed her thoughts and that alone made Therese's legs weak.


A pause ensued where they looked at each other. And she thought she could not look at those eyes directly, stupid, foolish girl! Now that she had, she wanted to do that forever.


“Carol! There you are. Well, this photo?” A man had arrived and was putting his arm against the blonde woman's waist-Carol she supposed.


Carol smiled. But not like earlier with her glistening eyes, no, that was definitely a “photo-smile”. Therese knew because she had to see that everyday. Forced smiles, fake smiles, empty smiles.

“Harge, this is…?”


“Therese. Therese Belivet.” She filled in the blank and did not look once in the direction of Harge. Harge, Hargess Aird, the rich organizer. And his wife.


“Well Therese, chop chop, use your camera. Wait where's Rindy?”


Carol looked at him with small, creased eyes. “She is asleep.”


“Well go wake her up, I want this photo. I want everything to be perfect.”


“I am not going to wake her up because you want a picture to look nice.” Her voice was getting angrier and her face remained impassible. Therese admired her talent.


“Please don't fucking start, don't make a scene, not here. This is my night.” He whispered angrily, obviously less talented at controlling himself.


Carol regarded him for a long time with cold, cold eyes. “I know this is your night. But isn't everyday 'Harge's night'?”


Therese did not hear any more of the heated discussion because she left. She did not want to hear any of that, it was not any of her business. And this idea of this woman being married to this fool gave her nausea. She hated it so much, so so much when great beautiful kind women were stuck with mediocre or even awful men. She saw it everywhere. But she did not have the pretension to say that it was her own situation with Richard. She was not that great if she was honest: too indecisive, pretty enough but not beautiful, childish at times. No she was lucky to be with Richard. Carol though, Carol. No Carol deserved better, she knew it in her bones. That is why she kept her eyes on her the whole evening, studying her, remembering her. She looked sometimes in the direction of Harge but of course she was always disappointed. What a fool he was.


What a fool she was herself.




Carol's fingers were slender and long. They were eliciting such strong reactions from Therese that she could not believe they were simple fingers. She had not known, she had known nothing at all. Her own body, her own sensations. She had not known herself.


She held on for dear life to Carol, her hands clinging to her neck, her nails digging in the delicate skin. And to say sweat had bothered her so much before, now, their sweat mingled and made their bodies slide together in a seductive dance. Carol's fingers kept going, circling her clitoris. Again and again and again Therese screamed and cried out loud. It was too much, but not enough, not enough at all! She had not even put her fingers in her, but Therese in her state, belatedly thought that it would not be useful at all. For the longest of times she thought sex meant penetration. Now though? No, no, absolutely no need. Just those damned fingers on her. On her wet and warm clitoris, the friction almost painful but so agreeable. She was incoherent, she kept stuttering words. What was she even trying to say at that point? She did not know exactly but she wanted to tell Carol how much she loved that, how much she loved her.


“C-Carol, god, yes please. Oh, oh, oh I can't I can't I cannot C- Car- Carol!” She writhed as much as she could with her position and Carol above her.


“My darling, you are so beautiful.” Her deep voice rang out in Therese's ears and reverberated deep in her body.


“No, no you are, you are so beautiful and good and...” She could not finish because Carol's lips had replaced her fingers. Therese yelled out, literally yelled out at the shock of the pleasure. Now Carol's spit was mixing in the wetness and her tongue was swift and deft enough that the pressure and the extreme pleasure made her see stars. So many stars under her eyelids that they overflowed and she cried. She cried but also sobbed, her breath hitching and her tears getting caught on the corners of her mouth.


Carol had to have seen that she had come but she kept going. The tip of her tongue hitting repeatedly the numb but explosive nub before licking away everywhere. One her her hands was kneading her breast, a sharp nail scratching her soft pink nipple. She loved that so much, but she loved something else even more: when the very same nail pushed at the centre of the nipple moving a bit, but keeping the nipple flat, the sensations unleashing. Carol read her mind, she knew Therese too well already, and she did just that. Therese came a second time, her thighs quivering uncontrollably, her stomach doing somersaults. Her tears had stopped but her face was still vulnerable and open.


Carol raised her head, licked her lips with a smile and went down to kiss her sweetly. “Therese, you are perfect, do you believe me?”


She could only nod. She just wanted those sweet but sour lips on her lips again.


Carol kissed her again.“That's not good enough. Do you believe I would give orgasms to anyone?”


“No, of course not, you are so beautiful and perfect.”


“Would I waste time with anybody not equal to me then?”


Therese knew what she was doing. She had done that all the time they had met and done that. But she could not stop the bitter thought of Harge. Carol had married Harge, so of course she could be with someone who did not reach her ankle. A few weeks ago she would have shut up but now she did not want to. “What about Harge? Is he as perfect as you then?”


Carol's eyes closed off and the hand that had been on her breast moved away. “Therese, not here, don't start.”


Therese should really have shut up but she could not. She was so in love and vulnerable and Carol was only fucking her. She suddenly had a flashback. “You remind me of Harge. You remember “don't make a scene, don't start' at the gala?”


She visibly blanched and moved away. She sat at the end of the bed, her back to Therese. She was wearing a négligé, one of the straps had slid down her shoulder in the action. Therese wanted to put it back and kiss the back of her neck and apologize. She did not, she simply stared. She cried quietly. However Carol heard and whipped around, fear and concern in her eyes. She climbed back on the bed and on Therese, peppering kisses wherever she could.


“I'm sorry Carol, I'm so stupid, I'm sorry.”


“Darling, you are not stupid. I am sorry for putting you in that situation.” She kissed her on her lips. “God, I want to give you so much. Everything, really.”


“You are already giving me so much.”


“You beautiful kind girl, I want to give you everything, not 'much' or 'enough' or even 'almost everything'. I want you to have everything.”


Therese smiled at the idea. She wanted to hold Carol's hand in public, kiss her deeply after a dinner date. She wanted Carol's photos placarded on all her walls. She wanted to be her girlfriend, her wife. Meet Rindy. She wanted Carol to love her. “I want that too.” She did, she really did. The more she dared think about all that the more she felt like it was in her reach.


Carol's eyes were glistening. A mix between sadness and unadulterated joy, an expression she had assimilated to her Carol from the beginning. “And you deserve it, you deserve happiness.”


She opened her mouth fast to deny it. Her brain was made like that, it was automatic. But she stopped herself. For maybe the first time she agreed. “Yes I do.”


Carol's surprised but happy smile was worth everything, every doubt she had about herself. She felt worthy of Carol, she felt like she did deserve everything. “My angel.”




The phone call was going to be painful. Well, not exactly painful but unpleasant. Therese, who was kneeling in front of her, showed her support by holding Carol's hand, the one not holding the cellphone. She soon realized that would not be easy considering she was also stress smoking. Therese did not want to let go of her hand so she took the cigarette herself and put the extra ash in the ashtray before putting it back between Carol's red lips whenever necessary. Carol must have thought it was rather funny because she smiled playfully, as if she could not believe her girl.


She was calling her lawyer. Therese could not believe she was going through with her divorce. It seemed surreal. Those stories don't usually end well for the mistress especially when the husband is rich and powerful. But Carol had wanted to leave him before even meeting Therese, except that she had never dared, never even entertained the thought for more than a few seconds. She always had been a good girl, following daddy and mommy's wishes, she had told Therese. Now though, now was the time to listen to herself and her own wishes.


Therese heard the lawyer's muffled voice and looked carefully at Carol's face. She nodded a few times before hanging up. She then sighed deeply and put down her head almost on Therese's shoulder. Her shoulders shook and Therese felt terrified. Was she regretting her decision? Her hand went up to move the lush blond hair out of her face. She saw that Carol was not crying but laughing. She crushed her cigarette in the ashtray and laughed again.


“I am free.”


Therese joined in the laughter, the happiness bubbling out of her. “Yes you are. I am so proud of you. You are so brave.”


Carol did not answer with her words but she kissed her deeply, her excitement translating in her enthusiasm. Therese kept it going, her tongue swiping against Carol's white teeth, tasting slightly of cigarettes. Their tongues met and touched and Therese was drunk on this sensation alone. But she wanted to prove to Carol all her love. She remained kneeling on the floor and moved Carol's knees apart. Her legs were open just in front of her and if she inhaled, she was sure she could smell the warm organ under her dress. Her hand travelled from the knee she had just moved to the strong, long thigh. She bunched up her dress and Carol helped by leaning back a little. Therese then looked at her face and blushed when she saw the raw desire that was undoubtedly also expressed on her face.


Wetness was seeping through her sophisticated expensive lingerie and Therese licked at the cloth with abandon. Carol leaned back even more without planning to, desire making her arms weak. Therese licked and licked until she bit at the lips. It was not too hard, just like Carol liked. The dusted pink panties were absolutely soaked and Therese licked again for good measure and because the smell and the taste were slowly killing her. She could feel under the silk undergarment her round clitoris that begged to be touched. She twirled her tongue a few times before moving the panties up and down: she was pushing down on the clitoris with the outstretched undergarment. That must have hurt a little too, but once again, she knew her Carol and what she liked.


Her vagina was glinting, the sight so arousing Therese felt her own throb and get wet fast. Carol stood up to remove her panties and Therese admired her body from her position. She was still wearing her tight red dress, her nipples peaking out through the light cotton. Her breasts heavy and round from under. Carol sat back down heavily, her legs not carrying her any more when she had removed her panties. Therese laughed with joy and went to work.


She was worshipping her, she knew it and Carol knew it. Every time they made love, even when hurried and too hot, they felt that thing between them. That magical, insane, reverent thing.


Her short nails were still long enough to do what Carol liked so much. Therese scraped slightly, being careful as to not be too violent or too soft, on the inside of Carol's lips. Her pink, wet walls of her vagina so soft under her fingers. She kept scratching and scraping inside her vagina and around her clitoris. Carol was losing any control she could have kept more than willingly. Her breath was coming faster and faster, her gorgeous breasts going up and down, her throat bared. Therese was so in love. Carol was whimpering and crying out, and when she came it was in a silent, frozen cry. Her mouth forming a perfect red 'o', her eyes closed with bliss and her cheeks red with exertion.


Therese was so in love, she could not help herself and she unzipped Carol's dress hastily. She tugged awkwardly on her bra until her breasts were revealed, bobbing out heavily. Therese was so close to coming, she needed to see those breasts, to touch and lick them. She did, touching the soft skin, pink and white, soft and hard. She straddled one of Carol's legs, moving back and forth so that her wet clitoris under her dress could feel everything. She bit down on Carol's shoulder, her breast, her nipple and her clitoris was on fire. She came too, less silently than Carol as always. She could not stop moving her hips on her leg and Carol put two of her fingers directly on her clitoris. The waves of her orgasm had not even ceased that she could feel a second one coming hard on her.




Their legs were tangled together. They were looking at each other. They had come such a long way, and Therese was the happiest girl you could ever see. She knew Carol was the same. She knew her Carol and she loved her so, so much she could burst.