Love Burns Bright: A Lifetime of Lesbian Romance by

Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781627780131
Publisher: Cleis Press
Published: 2013-11-18T05:00:00+00:00

COOLING DOWN, HEATING UP

Dena Hankins

I use the ribbed cotton of my tank top to dry the skin under my tits. A bra would soak up some of the sweat, but I can’t bear one thread more than the top and my underwear. I’m sitting on the floor, leaning against the fieldstone fireplace in our 180-year-old farmhouse. Never thought the fireplace would be the coolest spot in the house.

The fan squeaks a bit, way up in the high ceiling. I’ll have to fix that when it’s not a million degrees. The blades pour humid air over me like a warm river.

Hennie’s flushed, lying flat on her back in a cotton slip she made herself. It’s got thin lines of lace, top and bottom, and she scratches at her thigh where the lace tickles. She wiggles within reach, hunting a cooler spot on the wooden floor, and I poke her hip with my big toe. She groans. “I love you, sweetheart. Don’t touch me.”

I laugh.

The hills outside Chapel Hill, North Carolina, sport more than one lovely old house. Ours has little in the way of grounds—the fields had been sold long before we came around. We’ve owned it three years now, moved in on our eighth anniversary. Still getting bruised and blistered working on it, but that’s just part of owning an old home. Our bedroom is straight out of the nineteenth century, except we made the dressing room into a bathroom. We updated the kitchen but left the cupboards. The old plumbing complains and we replace what we have to.

Mostly, we restore what we can and live without plenty. Like air-conditioning.

“Hennie, I think it’s time.”

My lover smiles without opening her eyes. “Gettin’ itchy?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Hennie sits up with a whoosh and blinks like she’s light-headed. Her slip’s wet where she was lying on it. Her tits are bare under the thin cotton and her nipples are soft, nearly flat in the heat. “Want to make reservations or pack?”

I lever myself to my feet and wish I hadn’t. “I’ll pack.”

Hennie laughs. “You’re sweet, but I was joking. Get on the computer and I’ll put together an overnight bag.”

I lean over and give Hennie my hand. We both groan at the sticky feeling as I pull her upright. Pressing my lips to hers without touching anywhere else, I mumble against her mouth, “You’re the one for me.”

“I’d better be.” Her grumpy tone makes me smile and she pulls away. Slogging through the dank air, she heads up the stairs to our bedroom on the second floor. Her voice fades as she gripes, “I still say we should have a summer bedroom downstairs. We can put a bed in the piano parlor and…”

My face settles into the expression Hennie calls “mulish.” I consider that an insult and refuse to cop to it. I love our bedroom and won’t give it up for anything. A smile breaks through. Actually, I will give it up tonight for that most modern of conveniences.

We’re driving away less than an hour later and pull up to the chain motel a half hour after that.

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