Page 6
Story: A Matter of Trust: A Carlsbad Village Lesbian Romance
“I wish, but I can’t! I’m fucking running late.” Her sneakers on, she looked around for her bag, spying it by the front door. “I’ll have to break few traffic laws just to get to the shop on time. I may have my license now but until tomorrow I’m still officially Lexx’s apprentice and Lexx doesn’t play around! I have to get the place prepped and swept before we open.”
Dressed, with bag slung over her shoulder, she looked over at Chloë, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Fuck, you were fun last night,” she said, eyes smoldering. “Thanks.”
Chloë smirked.
“My pleasure,” she said.
“Mine too. Sorry to run but I really have to go.” Sienna turned to the door but hesitated. “Again tonight?”
“I should be home by ten,” Chloë answered.
“Sweet! Later!”
And then she was out the door and gone.
Chloë went back to drinking her coffee.
Of course she’d have sex with Sienna again tonight. Why wouldn’t she? Chloë liked bone-trembling orgasms as much as the next woman—and Sienna always delivered. It was a pretty nice arrangement.
But the abruptness of Sienna’s departure just now was also reinforcing what Chloë had been ruminating on earlier upstairs.
She wanted a girlfriend. And at this point she was beginning to not care if it was an older woman or someone closer to her own age. She simply wanted someone to snuggle up to in bed and kiss good morning and then spend some time with drinking coffee together.
***
As she didn’t have to be at work tonight until a couple of hours before the Lesbeans coffee club, Chloë spent her morning tidying her home and then listening to another lecture from one of her college instructors. At least this instructor was entertaining, making the material even seem fun.
Near lunchtime, she decided to go visit the folks.
After walking the fifty yards, she entered the main house through the French doors at the back, which led into the open plan kitchen that was now flooded with California sunlight.
“Hey, sweetie,” her mother, LeeAnne, greeted. She was leaning against the counter near the stove on which the teakettle was heating, scrolling through something on her iPad. “I’ll have tea ready soon.”
“Is that Chloë?” Her father’s voice came from somewhere in the vicinity of the family room.
“Who else would she call ‘sweetie,’ Dad?” Chloë called back.
Emile Marchand, all six-feet-six of him came ambling into the kitchen.
“Denzel Washington, for one, if she had the chance,” he answered his daughter. “So, listen, kiddo…I’m going to stop by your place today to install that track lighting in the kitchen for you. Good news, huh?”
Chloë and LeeAnne shared a look.
“Um, great news, Dad,” Chloë said, managing to sound enthusiastic about it. The truth was, however, that while her father thought he was a rock star handyman, he wasn’t. He was a rock star university professor at UC-San Diego with several books published and who was a regular guest commentator on several cable talk shows, but not a handyman. Chloë now knew that there was a very good chance that once she returned home tonight from work, flipping a light switch might actually flush the toilet.
Her mother, on the other hand, was also a rock star university professor at UC-San Diego, also was a regular on cable talk shows, but had actually turned into a rock star handywoman, mostly out of necessity by being married to a guy who never saw a power tool he didn’t like. Very often, it was LeeAnne who followed in Emile’s wake, actually installing, repairing or building the things that Emile had started to install, repair or build.
“When can I come by?” Emile asked Chloë.
“Um…now would be fine. I’m finished with class and I don’t have to be ready for work until this evening, so…knock yourself out.”
“Great!” Emile walked over to LeeAnne and gave her a peck on the cheek before heading out to his workshop.
Chloë took a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen island just as the kettle started whistling. A few minutes later, LeeAnne had two steaming mugs of Earl Grey tea ready. She handed one to her daughter and sat opposite her at the island.
“How late are you working tonight?” LeeAnne asked.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6 (Reading here)
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 114
- Page 115
- Page 116
- Page 117
- Page 118
- Page 119
- Page 120
- Page 121