A Matter of Trust: A Carlsbad Village Lesbian Romance
“Why wouldn’t you be allowed to come?”
“You said it’s a lesbian coffee club and…” Morgan trailed off.
“Well, do you still have that fake lesbian ID I gave you?” Naomi asked.
Morgan blinked. A moment later she felt her face flush with embarrassment when Naomi started laughing.
“Stop being stupid!” Naomi chastised. “Yeah, it’s a bunch of lesbians but it’s not like we’re going to make you flash us your boobs to join us. Just don’t do anything embarrassingly heterosexual or you’ll bring shame to me.”
Rolling her eyes, Morgan asked, “And what would be considered something embarrassingly heterosexual, pray tell?”
“For starters, going on and on about how good-looking Troy Aikman is. Blech, darling!”
They spoke for a few more minutes, with Naomi giving Morgan the details of the coffee club gathering the next night. When the call ended, Morgan blew out her breath and looked around.
Still so much to do!
Her living room was still littered with a handful of packing boxes and an odd assortment of furnishings, many of which rightfully belonged in other rooms of the house. The dining room table, for example, belonged in the dining room. Morgan knew this, of course, but in the three weeks since she’d moved in, she had yet to move it to the dining room. Why she had told the movers to just leave the table in the living room on moving day was beyond her.
She considered texting Naomi and telling her to not to expect her tomorrow night. With so much unpacking and arranging to do, Morgan wasn’t sure it would be a good use of time to hang out with a bunch of women drinking coffee downtown when she could drink a whole pot of it here at home and finally get her house in order. But then she realized that Naomi wouldn’t take no for an answer and would instead pester her with text after text and phone call after phone call until Morgan yielded.
Morgan smiled to herself.
Actually, a night out with women instead of a man sounded perfect. The dining room wasn’t going anywhere; it could wait for its table.
Chapter 3
Chloë stirred awake the next morning and stretched under the covers. She felt the weight of a person next to her in the bed and looked over to her left.
Sienna lay sleeping on her stomach like she always did, her face turned away from Chloë, her black hair spread over the pillow. It was still tangled in places from their exertions last night.
The covers had slipped down Sienna’s bare back revealing the rainbow-colored My Little Pony tattoo Lexx had inked Sienna with a few months ago, and also, right below the tattoo, a purplish hickey Chloë had created last night after biting her friend while fingering her from behind.
Her and Sienna had had fun last night; there was no denying that. They always had fun in bed. And Sienna had gotten her wish to be very loud. Several times. But looking at her sleeping friend now, Chloë had her own wishes running through her mind.
To begin, she was wishing Sienna was someone else. Who, Chloë didn’t know because Chloë had yet to meet the woman. But Chloë had taken to referring to this as-yet-unmet woman as Miss X in her mind. And if Sienna was Miss X, Chloë would slide over and press herself against her and wrap her arm around her so that, even in her sleep, Miss X would feel adore
d and protected.
Chloë was also wishing that she could go downstairs and make coffee and when Miss X eventually awoke and came to find Chloë, that they’d kiss deeply as a way of saying good morning and then maybe Miss X would say something like, “Thank you so much for making the coffee!” because older women were often super polite like that, and the women Chloë were most attracted to were always older, like mid- to late-thirties.
Instead, Sienna was Sienna. Not only was she not in her mid- to late-thirties, she was actually 4 months younger than Chloë. And her and Chloë didn’t snuggle in bed. They fucked and fell asleep with something like a demilitarized zone between them on the mattress. And in the morning, there was never a good morning kiss. Chloë and Sienna reserved kissing only while actively engaged in sex, and only then. And, sure, they might have coffee together or even breakfast, but most likely they’d both have their eyes glued to their phones the entire time.
Chloë sighed and tore her eyes away from Sienna. She got out of bed because she actually did want some coffee and she still had some of the Tanzanian peaberry Vanessa had let her take home.
Once downstairs, Chloë giggled at seeing the state of things.
Upon arriving last night, Sienna hadn’t wasted any time and had practically pounced on Chloë as soon as she walked in the door. The result was that now, Chloë’s miniscule living room—which also doubled as dining room, studying room and entertainment room—was littered with her and Sienna’s clothes strewn about.
Coffee, however, was the priority.
After starting her Technivorm machine on brewing the incredible African roast, Chloë then started gathering up the clothes. Hers she put in the washer/dryer combo that was wedged into a niche next to her kitchen sink; Sienna’s she took back up to the loft, leaving them in a pile on the bed for Sienna to find once she stirred. By the time she was done doing that, the aroma of the coffee was already spreading through the tiny house and Chloë knew it wouldn’t be long until it woke Sienna up.
Sure enough, not five minutes later, while Chloë was checking her Twitter feed, she heard Sienna moving about in the loft.
“Oh my God, that smells so amazing!” Sienna exclaimed as she made her way down the storage stairs.
“Sit and I’ll pour you a cup,” Chloë offered, but Sienna started shaking her head as she found her Chucks to pull them on.