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Hours later, they haven’t moved from the sofa. They’ve been resting in each other’s arms for a while now, and Shelly caresses Bambi’s hair, plays with a strand before placing it back behind her ear and cupping her cheek. Bambi hums at the touch, lifts her head just enough that her lips brush against Shelly’s, and can’t help but let out a soft chuckle when the older woman eagerly draws her in to kiss her properly. If it felt urgent earlier, desperate even, this time it’s slow and it’s tender; and yet both times it created butterflies in Bambi’s stomach, to the point she finds herself wondering how she ever got this lucky. Shelly is gorgeous, but not only that—she’s kind. She’s loving. She likes to take care of people, and there’s something about the way she looks at her that makes her feel more alive than she has in the past few years. Like someone truly sees her, at last. Shelly makes her feel safe, and she makes her feel like she matters. Shelly listens to her, her ideas, actually cares what Bambi has to say, and if that wasn’t enough to make her fall for her, the last couple hours in her company certainly did the trick. She smiles against her lips, presses a soft kiss to them, rests her forehead against hers.
She knows eventually Shelly will have to go, though, and she forces herself to not think about it, to stay in the moment, because if her mind wanders down that path for a couple more seconds, she might just start crying. She likes Shelly, really likes her, maybe is even starting to be the tiniest bit in love with her. And the last thing she wants is to see her leave. So she tries to stay in the now, focuses on the smell of her perfume, the softness of her skin against hers, though she can’t help but avoid her gaze. Shelly notices, because of course she does, she always does. She’s nothing if not attentive. And, before she has time to do anything about it, Shelly’s finger is under her chin, lifting it slightly so their eyes finally meet again.
“What’s wrong?”
Shelly’s voice is soft, the care she’s putting into that question, undeniable, which makes it all the harder for Bambi to answer. So she doesn’t, she even tries to look away, but Shelly won’t have it.
“Hey,” she whispers, so low that Bambi almost doesn’t catch it.
Her gaze meets Shelly’s again, and for an instant she’s certain she’s going to burst into tears. She doesn’t, though. She forces herself to regain be it only a little control over herself, wipes a tear that had formed in the corner of her eye.
“I just—I really like you. Been hoping this would happen for a while, if I’m being honest.”
She feels like a teenager again, shamefully confessing her feelings after she got caught, but Shelly is so gentle about it she almost immediately forgets why she thought telling her would be a bad idea. She’s not sure what she was expecting, but she’s relieved when Shelly’s hand reaches for her cheek, her thumb drawing little circles on her soft skin.
“I really like you, too,” Shelly sighs quietly as she pulls Bambi closer, holds her tighter.
Bambi relaxes into her embrace, buries her face in her neck, presses a trail of kisses on her skin, and feeling Shelly shiver against her lips gives her the biggest smile of satisfaction.
Shelly eventually pulls away a little, just enough to look at Bambi.
“You know, Bambi—”
“Luanne,” the blonde interrupts and Shelly pauses, though the hint of confusion forming on her face is soon replaced by a soft smile when Bambi clarifies, “Bambi’s my stage name. My real name is Luanne Pryzbylko.”
“Well, Luanne…” Shelly continues, one of her fingers tracing a line along Bambi’s collarbone. “This is the most fun I’ve had…well, in a while.”
Bambi gives her a bright smile, nuzzles her face, whispers “me too” against her lips—though she knows Shelly means so much more by that. She hasn’t known the woman for long, but she knows something’s shifted for the housewife, something bigger than the two of them. She’s not sure what it all means exactly, but she’s convinced neither of them will ever be the same again. She knows she certainly won’t. The past few hours with Shelly have been nothing if not a testament to how beautiful sex with another woman can be and, while she knew that from experience already, nothing quite compares to being in Shelly’s arms, to kissing, fondling her, watching her come undone under her touch. Nothing compares to the immeasurable pride and joy she feels when she thinks of the sight of Shelly as pleasure invades her senses, her moans echoing softly in Bambi’s mind like a melody stuck in her head.
She’s not sure how long she’s been lost in thought, reminiscing about what just happened, but Shelly’s finger sliding down her cheek brings her back to reality. A soft, tired smile forms on her lips as her head leans into Shelly’s hand.
When she asks what she’s thinking about, Bambi considers lying for an instant, from fear of being judged too sentimental—or needy, maybe—but then she remembers who she’s talking to. Gentle, kind, loving Shelly. So she tells her the truth. She tells her just how breathtaking she was, how good she made her feel, how grateful she is that this is the way their night evolved. Shelly smiles, presses a soft kiss to her lips, kisses her way to her neck, sucks on her pulse point.
“Who says the night is over?” Shelly whispers against her skin, and the warmth of her shaky breath sends a chill down Bambi’s spine.
Her hand reaches for Shelly’s waist, pulls her as close as she can as she feels the older woman’s hand slide between her legs. She’s not getting much sleep tonight, she thinks, but that’s okay. How could she want to do anything other than make love to the woman who’s now on top of her, surprisingly comfortable with being in charge? She’s not sure she’s wanted anything more before in her life. And so, she closes her eyes as a moan escapes her throat.