Chapter Text
Lena exhaled as she looked at the monitor in front of her. She had just finished editing the last article for this week’s edition of Couture, five minutes ahead of schedule even. Which meant-
“Home time!” she chippered to herself, cracking her knuckles and standing from her stiff office chair. She pressed her hands into her lower back, bending until she felt it crack and let out a little grunt of relief.
Just as she was about to leave her office however, hand poised over the door handle, her desk phone rang.
Eyes narrowing, she considered it briefly. If she answered it and it was the boss, she could probably expect to be staying late with no way to get out of it. However there was always the possibility it could be a serious request that could cost her arse if she ducked out before answering it.
Resigning herself to this fate, she walked back to her desk and picked it up.
“Yello?”
“Good afternoon Lena, it’s Sandra from front desk. I wanted to let you know there’s a delivery down here for you to pick up on your way out.”
Brow crinkling, she wondered if it was the same person that had been sending her roses for the past few weeks.
“Righto, I’m on my way down now anyway, thanks.” She placed the phone down and turned, making her way out.
No one from the floor noticed as she left. Not that it was really any of their business what she did or where she went, this whole magazine would be stuffed without her writing and editing for the company. Her articles alone were 40% of the readership, probably more.
So yeah, definitely wasn’t a secret admirer here at the office, that she was sure of. But that just made it even more of a mystery. She didn’t really have many friends, at least no gay ones. And she was fairly certain her mum wouldn’t go setting her up with a mystery woman.
Still, she’d figure it out eventually, that much she was sure of.
As she stepped off the elevator and approached the front desk, Sandra met her with a bright smile. She could see the roses just sitting there in a little black bucket, a note tucked neatly into them.
“Nother one huh?” she asked, approaching where they sat on the counter and reaching out, cupping one of the red roses and bringing it to her nose. It smelled soft, floral and delicious. Whoever bought these- and there was at least two dozen- had money to spare. And then some.
“Someone likes you,” Sandra replied, tilting her head at the roses and wiggling her eyebrows.
Lena scoffed.
“And lemme guess, you got no clue who they are either?” Lena asked, plucking the note from the stems and unfolding it.
Sandra looked thoughtful for a moment before shrugging her shoulders.
“Whoever it is they’re bringing them in themselves. And let me tell you, she is probably the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. And I'm straight.”
That piqued Lena’s interest, an eyebrow cocking.
“Gorgeous woman you say?”
“Mhmm.” Sandra nodded, holding up a finger as the phone beside her rang and she went into customer service mode.
Lena turned away, bringing the note up to read it.
“Two lovers adrift- cast from their caste- find their own way back to land.”
She peered at it in confusion. The words seemed oddly familiar.
Grabbing the pot of roses, she gave a small wave to Sandra and left the building. She had at least a five block walk home to ponder over the message, but it wasn’t until she placed the flowers down gently on her coffee table that a light bulb went off in her head.
“Bollocks!”
It was actually a line from a page she edited- the reader’s submitted poetry- that came out on the shelves last week. She’d liked that line, particularly so. She’d put that poem at the top of the column and even bolded that first sentence.
So, whoever it was sending her these gifts most certainly also read the magazine she worked on.
Tapping her chin thoughtfully, she paced back and forth. Still, no one she could think of. But maybe.... maybe if she just asked Sandra to hold them up the next time they brought flowers, call her with a code word or something, then she could run down and catch the ‘hot delivery girl’ in action.
She grinned to herself. It was a brilliant idea, if she said so herself.
And so planned the ambush with Sandra. She’d give her a call pretending to ‘need to call her boss about something’ and stay on the phone until Lena got down there. After all, she couldn’t accept the delivery until she got off the phone, and the ‘hot delivery girl’ would be none the wiser. It was perfect.
So another week went by, every day Lena waiting anxiously for the end of the day to come and for her mysterious rose girl to show up. Of course it was silly to expect her so soon, but she couldn’t help it. It was keeping her on edge and she needed to know.
When that call finally came however, she could barely contain her excitement. She practically ran through the office to the elevator, much to the other employees disdain. Not that it bothered her, she was about to meet her mystery woman, caught red handed. This is definitely the most interesting thing that had happened to her all year.
Her expression dropped as the elevator doors opened at the ground floor, every part of her body tensing up as she spotted the very CEO of the competing fashion magazine to the company she worked for standing in the foyer. She had been following her on her social media for a long time now, and had always admired her passion and determination in a cut-throat industry.
Did she also mention she was bloody gorgeous? Like, fall over your own feet and walk into a street pole at the sight of her gorgeous? Because well... she was.
Their eyes met and there was a moment of panic she saw in the taller woman’s features. That was when she noticed what she was holding.
“Nice roses,” Lena managed to whimper out without sounding like too much of an awe struck teenager. As the French woman’s eyes bore into hers and a shade of pink touched her cheeks, Lena cleared her throat.
“Sorry, ‘m Lena. Lena Oxton. I’m editor in chief for Couture magazine, you’re Ms. Lacroix right?” she queried, straightening her posture and forcing herself to act at least a little bit professional. She looked over and noticed Sandra behind the desk making a frantic pointing motion in the direction of Ms. Lacroix as she stood there holding the roses. No. There’s no way.
“I know who you are, Miss Oxton,” her voice came out like silk, her gorgeous amber eyes sparkling with just a hint of mischief. “I am a fan of your work, it is written with passion and ferocity.”
A smile crept over Ms. Lacroix’s face, causing a flush to reach Lena’s cheekbones.
“I also enjoy reading your lifestyle blog online. It is... interesting, to say the least.”
Oh god, she read her lifestyle blog. Of all the bloody things. That website was nothing but a big mess of mostly lesbian content, a few fiction romance stories, interviews and reviews on LGBT+ media. Generally it was something that only really appealed to people from her own community, why would she be reading it?
“Gee, thank you so much Ms. Lacroix, I’m flattered, truly,” Lena paused, scratching at the nape of her neck as she tried to avoid those intense eyes. “Who’s the roses for anyways? Y’got someone ya meeting up with here or-”
At that, the French woman stepped forwards, holding the bucket out towards her.
“Apologies, these are for you,” Ms. Lacroix spoke rapidly, suddenly seeming self conscious in the moment, keeping her gaze locked onto the flowers in question.
Lena stared at them for a few moments, truly baffled and simultaneously very flattered and very very gay. She stammered.
“For me? But I don’t-”
“I was having your receptionist take the delivery, I’m sorry I wasn’t more forward Miss Oxton. I-” The French woman looked away, inhaling a deep breath before turning her head back and giving Lena a soft, wonderful smile.
Oh, that’s nice.
“I wanted to ask you to allow me to take you out for dinner some time.”
Lena almost dropped the flowers at that, her eyebrows lifting in surprise as she looked for any hint that she was being taken for a ride.
“D-dinner? Like... like dinner dinner? Like a date dinner? Not like... just business dinner?” her hope was welling up in her chest and she didn’t want it to die, not when this gorgeous woman was looking at her like that; looking at her like she was the most interesting person in the world and then some.
A soft chuckle that sounded very French indeed- if that was even possible- escaped Ms. Lacroix’s lips and it was a most heavenly sound indeed.
“Oui, like a date dinner. Perhaps with just a side of business, if that suits you.”
Lena couldn’t help herself from erupting into a hopeful giggle; she was all too aware of the stupid, love struck grin now blossoming on her lips.
“Suits me just fine love,” she paused, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Speaking of, do I wear a suit or...”
Her voice trailed off, and there was another one of those heavenly laughs.
“Non, nothing so formal. You could just wear a blouse and jeans if it’s what you wish,” she waved a dismissive hand, even that motion being elegant.
She was liking this woman more and more by the minute, and she’d already liked her to begin with.
At that, Ms. Lacroix reached into the inner pocket of her suit, a subtle dark grey tone that was cropped just along the bottom of her rib cage. She pulled out her phone, handing it to Lena.
Juggling the roses so that she could hold them with one arm, she took the phone and gave the French woman an inquisitive look. All she got was a cheeky smile in return.
“Your number, if you’d be so kind,” she elaborated, and Lena proceeded to enter herself into the woman’s contacts. “Thursday evening, 7pm. I will text you the address beforehand.”
Lena nodded and handed her the phone back, appreciating the small smile Ms. Lacroix had as she made sure the details were all there.
“Right, Thursday. 7pm,” Lena repeated, shrugging her shoulders. “Thanks for the roses by the way, they’re gorgeous.”
Ms. Lacroix made a small humming noise, obviously pleased that her gift was suitable.
“I’m glad you like them,” she replied, lifting her arm she pulled her sleeve back and looked at her watch. Lena couldn’t help but notice it was what appeared to be gold with many little encrusted diamonds around the face. Bloody ‘ell was this woman well off. “I have a meeting I must get to, but I look forward to dinner with you, Miss Oxton.”
“Lena,” she corrected her quickly, in one sharp breath. “Please, just Lena’s fine.”
The French woman smiled, a sparkle in her eyes.
“Very well, Lena,” and the name practically rolled off her tongue. “Then please, call me Amelie.”
“Amelie,” Lena repeated, a little quietly in fear of stuffing up the pronunciation, but Amelie nodded appreciatively in return.
“Enjoy the rest of your day, Lena,” Ms. Lacroix spoke, also giving a small nod of farewell to the receptionist before turning on her heel to leave.
“You too!” Lena called out after her, smiling to herself. She must have stayed that way for some time even after Amelie had left, as it took Sandra calling her name twice before she turned to her.
“Really Lena? The CEO of our competing company?” she looked both a combination of exasperated and amused.
Lena could only rub at her neck sheepishly, then pretending to look at her wrist despite not even wearing a watch at all.
“Gee will you look at the time? Gotta fly! Later Sandra!”
And with that she left the building before she could get in any more trouble.
~
Thursday couldn't come fast enough, yet when the time actually came, Lena couldn't help but suddenly wish she had more time.
Yes, Amelie said she could dress casual, but she hardly felt that would be fitting, especially considering that once she'd been texted the name of the restaurant she knew instantly she should at least try to dress up.
Of course it was a French restaurant. Of course it was fine dining. Jesus bloody hell this woman was rich, it wasn't like she was going to take her out for a luke warm cheeseburger.
The pile of clothes on her bed was growing, and as she stood in wearing black dress pants and a bra in front of her closet she finally decided that a simple blouse would have to do. It was form fitting, white and plain with three-quarter sleeves. Nothing fancy, but acceptable attire nonetheless.
She'd spent too much time fussing over clothes already so she decided to forgo the makeup except for a little touch of eyeliner and some neutral eye shadow. With that settled, she checked the time.
“Bugger!” noticing she only had 30 minutes to be at the restaurant, she hurried to grab her handbag, tucking her phone into it and heading out the door. She was lucky enough to be down the road from the metro, and if she jogged down to the station she'd just make it in time for the train and would- according to the timetable- reach her destination with a few minutes to spare.
And she did, her phone reading 6:58pm as she reached the door of the restaurant and made her way in. A man in suit and tie immediately greeted her with a charming smile and a soft 'bonjour', asking her for her reservation. She totally didn't feel nerves well up in the pit of her stomach, nope, none at all.
“Lena Oxton, I'm here for dinner with Ms. Amelie Lacroix.”
His eyes widened at the name and he began beaming, bowing and motioning with his hand for her to follow him.
“Ah yes, Miss Oxton, of course! Ms. Lacroix is waiting for you in the private dining room. Please, if you will follow me,” he spoke in the most formal of tones, his French accent just making him sound all the more posh.
Lena couldn't help but look around her at all the rich and well dressed people sitting at their tables, holding crystal glasses filled with red wine and dining on what she could only describe as Gordon Ramsay level cooking. If this was the 'public' dining area, she could only imagine what the 'private' dining area was like.
Following him through, he led her to a wide hallway curtained off from the public. He lifted the curtain back for her and motioned for her to walk through. She did so, nervous trepidation now rising into her throat. The hall was lined with oil paintings that looked both very old and very expensive. She could see the textures of the paint and the strokes from the paintbrushes. They were not prints.
At the end of the hall was a set of swinging double doors with curtains hung over their windows. For added privacy, Lena assumed.
He swung one of the doors open, smiling at her and motioning for her to enter.
“Have a lovely evening, madam,” he spoke politely, leaving and letting the door swing shut behind him.
As she turned back around, Lena couldn't help but gape at the room. It was massive, unnecessarily so. There was a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, speakers in each corner of the room emitting relaxing, hypnotic electronic music. The table was lined with a gorgeous purple satin tablecloth and set with every piece of cutlery and glass type you could think of.
There was also a gas powered fireplace that stretched almost six-feet wide along the back wall, emitting a comfortable amount of heat.
But perhaps the most beautiful thing in the room by far was the radiant woman sitting on the left of the table, reclining with her legs crossed and a sly smile on her face. Her eyes popped even more in this lighting, surrounded by an immaculate smokey eye and winged eyeliner. Her lips were coated in a shimmering lipstick a dark shade of purple that almost appeared black, glistening in the overhead light.
She was wearing a black dress that cut low through the middle, revealing the inner curve of her breasts and just about touching her belly button. A slice down the right side of the dress revealed her thighs almost all the way up to her panty line.
Oh, she was staring. She was definitely staring.
“See something you like?” Amelie teased, quite obviously aware of the effect she was having on her guest.
“I uh... um. That is-” Lena suddenly felt incredibly warm, and her clothing felt far too tight. She reached up and pulled at the collar of her blouse, attempting to loosen it. Amelie laughed, her eyes lighting up.
“Please, relax. I don't bite,” Amelie spoke, motioning to the chair that was beside her, but about two feet away. It certainly seemed more intimate of a dining arrangement than your regular setup.
Lena let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, moving around the table and seating herself to Amelie's left. She gave the French woman an apologetic smile.
“Sorry, 'aven't been on a date in a long time. I'm a little rusty at this.”
Amelie shook her head, her long black hair like tresses of silk tied up into a professional bun.
“I find it hard to believe someone such as yourself has trouble finding dates,” Amelie argued, taking a moment to eye her up and down, humming softly as though in approval. Lena felt her cheeks redden.
“Don't really get the time. I work at the office and I work when I get home. Sometimes I'm up 'til the early hours of the morning, don't get much sleep.”
Her dining partner clicked her tongue disapprovingly at this, her smile fading to be replaced by the most adorable crinkled brow Lena had ever seen.
“That is unacceptable, non that will not do at all,” she spoke tersely, shaking her head as she plucked her phone from the table and started typing something into it. Lena wasn't sure if she was texting someone or taking notes, but after a few moments, she placed her phone back down and looked at her with a very serious expression.
“Lena, I will not lie to you. There is another reason I brought you here tonight,” Amelie paused, taking a deep breath. Lena suddenly felt her nerves rattle. “I wanted to ask you to come and work for me. Be my second in command. Everything would have to be approved by you on my behalf, and all editing work would be done by those of your choosing. No more late nights, no weekend work, you would get to attend all the fashion events by my side or in my place.”
The amount of information being thrown at her almost knocked her for six, and she felt herself staring back at Amelie like a fish out of water. A smile crept onto Amelie's features.
“And of course, I would pay you handsomely. It would make your current paycheck look like mere pocket money.”
Okay, this all sounded far too good to be true. Yet she knew this industry was cut throat and those that had the skill and potential to go far were worth their weight in gold. Amelie had obviously been scouting her for some time, but did that mean that the date was all a ruse?
Shifting uncomfortably, she chewed on her lower lip. The woman beside her looked at her expectantly.
“So does that mean this isn't a date then?”
She could already feel the disappointment, the let down, that gaping maw opening up in her stomach and preparing to swallow her whole. The offer was amazing, and she'd be a fool to not accept it, but she'd truly been hoping to just enjoy a wonderful date and maybe something more with this mysterious woman.
Realising what she must have sounded like, Amelie instantly looked apologetic, leaning closer to her and resting her hand on Lena's thighs.
“Cherie, I brought you here for a date, that I promise you,” she squeezed Lena's thigh, giving her a reassuring smile. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on, I just thought it best to get business out of the way first before pleasure. Wouldn't you agree?”
Ahh, there was her nerves from earlier making a second appearance. Lena chuckled softly, feeling adventurous enough to reach down and let her hand rest atop Amelie's. It was a bit cooler to the touch than she'd expected, but still pleasant. Her skin was so soft and she just couldn't help herself but to run her thumb over the back of her knuckles.
This little moment of tenderness seemed to catch the French woman off-guard, her cheeks darkening and a hint of something else behind her eyes.
“Yes, I agree,” Lena spoke with all the bravery she could muster. She took a deep breath before continuing. “And I'd love to come and work for ya', Amelie.”
“With me,” Amelie corrected, giving her thigh one last squeeze before taking her hand back and returning to her relaxed posture. “You will be working with me, and I promise you cherie you will enjoy every minute of it.”
That she didn't doubt for a second. A pleased smile crossed Amelie's face as she adjusted her dress, somehow managing to reveal even more of her thighs.
“Now, are you hungry?”
She was hungry, but not just for food, that was for sure. Instead of making a fool out of her love starved self however, she settled for nodding in reply.
Amelie called for the waiter and they ordered their meals.
It was a comfortable atmosphere, the two of them talking light business while waiting and then while eating. Amelie seemed especially interested in Lena's lifestyle blog and suggested she could even have a similar article running weekly in her own magazine. Of course she agreed to it, more positive LGBT+ representation in the mainstream media could go a long way.
They talked about themselves. Lena learned that Amelie's prior marriage had been loveless and purely for business; the two had separated amicably once she had established herself in the industry with his help. It had been a well kept secret- the French woman's sexuality- but being the fashion giant that she was now she no longer felt the need to hide who she was.
It was something Lena understood, having herself dated men off and on when she was younger and in college. Even once she discovered that her lack of excitement in those relationships was due to the fact that they were men and not women, she still approached her love life with trepidation. A secret girlfriend here, a fling there. Nothing substantial. Work had ended up taking priority in her life, something she absolutely didn't regret having gotten to where she had in that time.
Now here she was, enjoying a wonderful date with an equally as wonderful woman. One who laughed at her jokes or listened to her intently when she shared a story. They finished their meals and the waiter brought out a bottle of wine for them, pouring two glasses and leaving the bottle behind.
Usually Lena wasn't big on drinking wine, but in good company it wasn't so bad, and she found herself loosening up the more she sipped at the crimson liquid. At some point Amelie had shifted her chair closer, almost touching, swishing her wine delicately in its glass while listening to Lena babble on about a movie she'd seen a few weeks ago.
It was as her head started to buzz that she looked over at her companions wrist watch, just barely making out that the hour hand was touching on the 10, the minute hand a little bit past the 12.
“Oh bollocks, is it that late already? I'm sorry I musta' been babbling on for ages, you must be bored outta' ya mind,” she started to panic, feeling self conscious of herself and her ability to prattle on about just about anything.
Amelie however only smiled at her, eyebrows lowering and her chin resting in the palm of her hand, propped up by the arm of her chair.
“Bored? Oh my darling, I've sit through more arduous meetings than I care to count. You are a breath of fresh air, though it is wonderfully sweet of you to be concerned.”
Darling? That was new. And... nice.
She took another mouthful of wine. Amelie noticed.
“If you wish to head home I would be more than glad to have my driver escort you there. I would hate for you to be out there alone at this time of night,” one of her eyebrows cocked playfully, earning a swarm of butterflies in Lena's stomach. “Or we could return to my home. I would so love to enjoy your company further.”
I'm bloody sure you would too, you French seductress. There was a part of her that was tempted to pass her up on that offer, if only because she was well aware of what they could get up to. But the part of her inhibition that had been loosened up from the alcohol would not let her turn it down in a million years.
“Y'know, think I'll take ya up on that, if only so that you can show me 'round your fancy digs,” Lena replied, looking thoughtful. This seemed to please Amelie greatly, a musical laugh escaping her lips and sending a warmth throughout her. Or maybe that was the alcohol at this point.
“Whatever you wish, cherie,” she replied, reaching for her handbag and pulling out what appeared to be a chequebook and pen. Lena watched with mild interest as Amelie filled out a cheque; she couldn't quite make out the numbers, but there was most definitely several zeros.
The cheque was placed in a small dish in the centre of the table and she tucked the book back into her handbag, beginning to push her chair from the table. Okay, Lena could at least do this one little to thing to prove she had at least a little bit of culture.
“Oh, here let me,” she rushed, jumping out of her own chair to her companion's surprise, standing off to the side and offering her hand in assistance. Amelie smiled, taking the hand and allowing herself to be helped out of her chair.
“Mmm, how chivalrous of you, cherie.”
Lena grinned, now offering her elbow. “Shall we?”
Amelie gave her an admiring smile before looping her arm through the offered elbow, allowing herself to be escorted out.
“Lead the way.”
They got quite a few intrigued stares on their way out, but Lena was blissfully happy enough that she didn't care to notice them. If anything she stood straighter, giving that one balding, grey haired dude the 'yeah, this is my date, what are you gonna do about it?' glare when he looked like he'd swallowed a bag of marbles at the sight of her arm in arm with another woman.
Once outside a cool breeze touched her skin, ruffling her brown tresses of hair that she had styled almost immaculately. The valet nodded to her, assuring her their ride was on its way.
No more than three minutes later, a limousine pulled up. It was the darkest of blacks, tinted windows, shined so thoroughly that Lena could almost make out her reflection in it. The valet stepped forwards, opening the rear door and bowing graciously to them as Amelie tugged her towards the vehicle.
This was all... quite a lot. Even as she buckled in and admired the spacious cabin around her, she couldn't help but wonder what the point of all this was, other than making a grand impression. They engaged in quiet conversation, Lena mostly just enjoying the scenic route they took through the city, lights flashing as they drove past, over the bridge freeway where a few boats were spotted around the harbour. She barely even noticed the time passing until she felt the limo slowing to a stop, peering outside to see they'd pulled up in front of a mansion sized beach house.
The driver got out, opening the door for them. Lena thanked him, standing and looking up at the size of the building. It had to be at least three stories, with huge open plan windows looking out over the harbour and the shoreline.
“I promise you, it's much more beautiful inside,” Amelie teased, her voice a warm whisper against her ear that took her by surprise. She turned her head, meeting the taller woman's gaze, her amber eyes burning playfully and a smile pulling at her lips.
“Right, sorry. It's just so...” Lena paused, looking back up at the building before formulating her response. “Big.”
A finger played at the collar of her blouse, tracing over the fabric. She swallowed.
“Size is not everything, I assure you,” came the warm response, the French woman's voice just a little lower, and not so much playful as it was making promises she intended to keep.
Lena laughed awkwardly, scrubbing at the back of her hair and not able to make eye contact. She could already feel her stupid ears burning with a blush, but she was grateful for the dim lighting for hopefully hiding it.
“Come, let me show you around,” Amelie spoke, her voice a more normal tone now as she took Lena by the hand and guided her up the steps and into her home.
Amelie pressed a key card against a scanner, the locks on her front door clicking and sliding open. On entering, Lena looked around her in awe. She vaguely heard Amelie telling her it was the foyer, pointing to various items she had on display including a statue of an elegant naked woman that seemed to be calling the viewer towards her.
In a stupor she merely followed her guide around, being shown a music room, a theatre, living room, kitchen and bathrooms. She allowed herself to be guided upstairs, all the way to the third floor. Apparently the second floor was mainly guest rooms and a second entertaining area.
When they reached the third floor landing it opened up into an expansive living area. Another one of those gas powered fire places was set into the far wall lined with cobblestones. There was a steel grey faux rug sprawled in front of it, a few mauve recliners with thick feet that were probably carved out of very expensive wood. Off to the side was a bar, not too dissimilar to the kind found in clubs, just a little smaller.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Amelie offered, turning to face her guest with enquiring eyes. Lena nodded in reply, her head still spinning as she tried to take in the fact that she was in what she could only imagine was a multi-million dollar mansion overlooking the beach, with a very rich, very charming, very gorgeous and very French woman. One- she noted- that seemed to be the most unlikely thing of all; interested in her.
The French woman walked behind the bar, pulling out two scotch glasses. Looking up, she caught Lena's attention.
“Liquor?” she inquired.
“I'd love to-” Lena mumbled, realising at that second she'd said 'liquor' and not 'lick her'. She shook her head, rubbing at her arms. “Rum. I'd love a rum thanks.”
Amelie nodded appreciatively, turning to look at her shelves and running her fingers along all the bottles she had until it came to rest on one. Like everything else around here, it looked expensive.
She popped the cork and poured out two glasses, adding some ice to both drinks. Grabbing the glasses, she motioned towards the love seat that sat adjacent to the fireplace.
“Come, sit with me,” she offered, giving a warm smile.
Lena obliged, following her over. She sat first, watching as Amelie sat right beside her and close enough that their thighs were almost touching. The dark-haired woman handed her her drink, and Lena was all too ready to accept, drinking down several mouthfuls of the liquid courage right there and then. Amelie quirked an eyebrow, but didn't say anything about it.
“So, what do you think?” she asked, looking at Lena with expectant eyes.
A few moments passed, with her chewing on her lip as she tried to formulate a reply.
“It's...” Lena looked around again, trying to really take in everything now. It smelled feminine, soft, a little bit floral. “A lot, not gonna' lie love.”
Amelie tilted her head, eyeing Lena over her glass of rum as she brought it to her lips. “How so?”
Struggling for the right words, the brunette shuffled around a bit, took another swig of the rum. She savoured the way it burned down the back of her throat, but much smoother than the stuff she usually drank. It was good. She stared into her lap.
“Look, you're bloody amazing. I can't believe someone like you would even want someone like me, but we're here. You're here. This place... it's amazing. But it's a world away from what I'm used to. I live in a tiny one bedroom apartment, I eat leftover Chinese and pizza,” Lena paused briefly, starting to feel a little more warm from the rum. Growing a little courage, she met Amelie's eyes. “My bloody toaster broke the other day y'know. I only bought the damn thing a few months ago. How does a toaster even break? I don't just have money to throw around at toasters!”
The woman beside her laughed softly, taking a sip of her drink as she waited for her guest to continue.
“And some kid spilled his juice on me on the train Monday morning. On the way to work, o'course,” she huffed at the memory and having to excuse the big orange patch on her white jeans when she got into the office. She shook her head. “I'm not used to this rich lifestyle, or being pampered in any way really.”
Raising an eyebrow, Amelie placed her free arm along the back of the love seat, her fingers tentatively teasing at the base of Lena's hair.
“And you don't think someone like me would want someone like you?” the French woman enquired, her voice low but warm. The brunette shivered at the light touch playing with her hair.
“Why would ya?”
The fingers slipped from her hair and she suddenly missed the sensation, but watched as Amelie took her drink from her hand, placing it with her own on the small table in front of them. Turning back, the French woman took both her hands in her own, squeezing them gently.
“Cherie, you are more amazing than you know. You are smart, talented, funny. You have a true eye for fashion, but you are not like everyone else in this industry, non. You have a heart, I've seen it in your writing, your articles and your blogs,” she paused, her fiery eyes boring into hers with a strength of passion. “You have a way about everything you publish that shows the world your compassion, your truth.”
Lena couldn't hold the gaze, the intensity burning inside of her chest as she took in every word. Looking down, she admired how their hands looked together; at some point they had become intertwined, locked together.
“It gets awfully lonely at the top, Lena. No amount of money can change that,” Amelie spoke softly, a hint of sadness in her voice, a sadness that made her look up again. There was a small smile, a wistful one, and a soft laugh.
“You know, when I was a child, I always thought it was so strange when the Princesses in movies always ended up with the Prince. How could they want to be with such a man when there is a gorgeous woman in front of her?”
A laugh escaped Lena at that, memories of her own returning to when she was a clueless young girl with pictures of female pop stars on her wall while all her female friends had men on theirs.
“We all start off as clueless baby gays, then we grow up inta' adult gays who got no clue how to flirt with ladies,” Lena added, nodding her head as she thought about it. Amelie hummed in agreement.
“Or business gets in the way of what we truly want. What we need.”
The French woman squeezed her hands, shuffling closer. Lena met her eyes, glad to see the sadness from before had dissipated but noting there was something else there. There was trepidation, nervousness. Was she... afraid?
“Love, if there's something you wanna ask me I'm all ears.”
Taking the encouragement, Amelie sat up a little straighter, her eyes flitting back and forth as she tried to gauge the situation.
“Lena I-” she stopped, her mouth poised as though to say something else before thinking better of it, taking a steadying breath, then continuing. “I'd very much like to get to know you further in person. To... date you. If you would have me?”
It was such a soft, genuine question that all Lena could do was start grinning like an idiot, a giggle erupting from her throat without her permission.
“Ya' askin' me to be ya' girlfriend?”
Amelie's lips turned up into a shy smile, her cheeks colouring scarlet as she now looked down at their hands as Lena had before. She found it so endearing that someone so powerful, so strong and terrifying in the fashion industry was turning into an unsure, nervous school girl before her.
“Oui,” there was a moment of silence, the dark-haired woman finally gaining a little courage to look up again as her blush subsided. There was a subtle happiness on her face now, and it just made her look even more radiant than she already did.
“I'd like the chance to show you what you've been missing out on all these years,” she added, the corner of her lip turning up into a cheeky smile. Lena caught the teasing, wiggling her eyebrows in response and daring to lean forward a few inches.
“Oh yeah? Why don't ya' show me then.”
Amelie let out a noise that was halfway between a laugh and a scoff, slowly moving in towards Lena, drawn in like a magnet until the very heat of her lips was against her own.
It was such a simple motion, but it sent her head spinning. All her fears and emotions that might have been left over in the back of her mind that Amelie didn't want her seemed to drift away as their mouths pressed against each other more insistently. They were both tentative but eager to explore, equal measures of gentle and firm. Her hands were already roaming the expanse of Amelie's waistline, much to the taller woman's delight, soft airy moans singing from her throat while her body leant into the touch.
She let out a sound of displeasure as her partner moved away from her, but a soothing hand ran through her short hair in a promise that she wasn't going anywhere.
“Stay the night?” Amelie inquired, her voice low and husky, her pupils dilated and her lips full and shimmering from their kissing. Lena had to stop herself from grinning like the cat who got the canary.
“Sure, but I gotta' warn ya', I'm a blanket hog.”
A chuckle escaped the French woman's lips, and she leant in to press another kiss to Lena's mouth.
“Then you'll just have to make sure you keep me warm, hmm?” Amelie ran her thumb across Lena's lower lip, pleased when the smaller woman kissed her digit.
“I think I can manage that,” Lena took a few moments to just enjoy this closeness, bumping their noses together before claiming her lips again in a delicious kiss.
She kept her promise, not once did Amelie go cold throughout the night.
~