Page 45 of Strap In

Even through her own orgasm, Ava’s control is masterful. She braces herself against the mattress, breath coming hot and fast against Jean’s neck. And when she recovers, her first thought is tending to Jean.

‘There.’ Ava kisses her parted lips. ‘Wasn’t that divine?’

Jean nods, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.

‘What’s wrong?’ Ava’s thumb wipes across her cheek. ‘Did I hurt you?’

‘No! No.’ Jean traces the line of Ava’s collarbone, slippery with sweat. ‘You were so incredibly gentle. And nobody’s ever – I haven’t… It’s never been quite like this for me. None of it.’

Ava ducks her head to kiss Jean. ‘Me neither.’

She eases out from between Jean’s legs then, missing the look of surprise that Jean’s altogether too raw to disguise, Ava unbuckles the straps, dropping harness and dildo over the side of the bed, and pulls Jean into her arms.

It’s dark when Jean wakes, sticky thighed and supple boned.

Ava’s arms are wrapped around her, mouth still pressed to Jean’s temple as if she’d dropped a kiss there in the moments sleep took hold.

And Jean wishes that she could stay here in this bed, in this woman’s arms, for all eternity.

But even now the clock is ticking. Another night and they’ll be boarding the train back to London, back to busy lives and expectations.

She could propose a third week – the Bairds are still in New York, and Ava would certainly say yes, though surely there’s work she ought to be doing.

But even if she agreed, what after that?

It would only be delaying the inevitable.

A return to Jean’s quiet home, her empty bed, with only stolen nights to look forward to.

A life where she and Ava make no sense by day.

Jean’s lungs pull tight. Though the window’s open, there’s not enough air lying among the shadows.

She rolls from the bed, retrieving her coverup shirt from the chair, and pads through the darkened house.

Opens the patio doors to the tiny back garden, where she had sipped champagne while Ava repainted her toes, taking exquisite care.

She lowers herself into the chair, gulping at the cool night air. But even then, there isn’t enough of it. Hot tears spill down Jean’s cheeks to splash against the glass table. She presses a hand to her mouth, not wanting to risk disturbing Ava.

Still, minutes or hours later, she appears – wrapped in a jumper and still yawning. ‘Hey. I woke up and you weren’t there – is everything okay?’

‘Fine,’ Jean says, though it’s a transparent lie.

‘Your legs are freezing.’ Ava disappears back inside and returns with a woollen blanket from the sofa, tucking it round Jean’s bare thighs. The tenderness of it pierces Jean’s heart. ‘What’s the matter?’

Jean blinks, gazing up at the sky. The moon blurs as a tear rolls down her cheek. ‘Do you ever think about all those infinite galaxies out there? About how there could be countless parallel worlds in them, each with some version of you?’

‘Not really. I was never good at science.’

‘I wasn’t either, but it keeps coming back to me.’ Jean folds both arms around herself, hugging the blanket. ‘What if there’s a world where my parents never died, and Bridget went off to fashion school to live her dream? Or a world where I hadn’t betrayed Marianne.’

‘Jean…’ There’s a pleading in her voice, but Jean ignores it, staring at the pinpricks of glimmering light piercing through the inky darkness. The stars are so much brighter here, without London’s light pollution.

‘Maybe Bridget would be the next Vivienne Westwood. Maybe Mari would have my job, and we’d still be friends. Maybe I wouldn’t even have gone into law in the first place.’ Jean laughs, fresh tears brimming. ‘Perhaps in another world you and I could have…’

‘What?’

‘It doesn’t matter. It’s stupid, and it doesn’t fit into this one.’

‘What, Jean?’ Ava’s voice is ragged, the words tearing from her. A warm hand covers Jean’s, squeezing tight. ‘Tell me.’

‘Maybe you and I could have been like this on ordinary days too. Maybe we could have more than nights and holidays and stolen moments.’ Jean’s cheek itches with the salt, and she scrubs the back of her hand across it.

All the while Ava stares at her, dumbfounded.

‘Never mind – I’m being stupid. It’s all the sun, or maybe I didn’t drink enough water. Forget it.’

‘Why is that stupid?’ Ava’s very still then, only her curls rippling in the breeze.

‘Because my life, my career, everything that I’ve worked for… I became the person that I needed to be to get this far.’

‘None of that stops being possible just because you’re with a woman. Discrimination’s illegal, and we have rights enshrined in law.’

‘You and I both know that social norms take years to catch up. It would still mark me out as… as… different.’ Jean shakes her head, adamant. ‘No. You’ll find a connection like this with someone else. Someone who’s out, someone closer to your own age.’

Ava looks at her like she’s speaking Martian. ‘No. I won’t.’

‘Of course you will, Ava – I’m not saying this to be cruel. You are charming and considerate and an incredible lover. Beautiful, too. It should be the easiest thing in the world.’

‘Sure, I can pick up women. I did pick up women. But do you really think this kind of thing happens often?’ Ava shakes her head, curls springing free from her ponytail.

But she doesn’t stop to pick up the fallen elastic.

‘I meant what I said, Jean – it’s never been like this for me either.

Not once. What we have, it’s exceptional. ’

‘We’re friends . Friends who also fuck. It’s good, I admit it, but there’s nothing rare or special about that.

’ If there is, and Jean has lured Ava in anyway, she’s guilty of all that Aaliyah had accused her and much worse besides.

The knowledge is a hook through her heart, weighing it down with shame.

‘Friends who make love and go on romantic holidays? Friends who share things they’ve never told anyone else and trust each other with their deepest, darkest truths?

Friends who spend every possible night together?

’ Ava stares at her, jaw tight. ‘You’re a smart woman, Jean.

Is that really what you think fuck buddies do? ’

‘It’s not like I’ve ever done this before!’ Jean pushes the hair back from her forehead. ‘There was my marriage to Henry. There were hook-ups with forgettable men. And then there was you. I’d never – I’ve never had anyone or anything I could compare this to.’

‘Me neither. I’ve done casual before, Jean, and this isn’t it. It never was.’

‘But you agreed! Every time I said casual was all I could offer you, you agreed.’

Ava spreads her arms wide, as if the answer is obvious, floating in the air between them. ‘I was waiting for you to figure it out on your own! I thought that if I gave you enough space, enough time, then—’

‘What?’ Jean scoffs. ‘That I’d tell everyone “ I’m a lesbian, surprise! ” and we’d live happily ever after?’

Ava doesn’t laugh. ‘Something like that. Yes.’

‘Oh, be serious.’

‘I am!’ Ava’s voice echoes through the stillness of the night. She leans forward, speaking lower, faster. ‘I am . People come out at all different stages of life, Jean, don’t you see? And with women it’s particularly common to come out during middle age—’

‘NO!’ Jean stands, heart pounding, and the blanket falls away. ‘I can’t. Not now, not ever. I don’t want anyone to look at me and think…’

‘What? That you’re capable of having romantic and sexual feelings for women?’ Ava rounds the table, coming close enough that Jean has no choice but to look her in the eye. ‘That doesn’t make you any less worthy as a human being. It doesn’t make you any less brilliant or capable as a lawyer.’

‘It might as well. You know nothing – nothing at all – about what it’s like in the corporate world. The sacrifices it takes. Or how little room there is for any kind of difference. So don’t you dare try and tell me that it wouldn’t matter.’

‘But is it worth it? Living a lie for the rest of your life so you can keep on fitting the image of what people expect you to be?’ Ava’s mouth pulls to one side, as if she’s incapable of imagining such an existence. ‘Wouldn’t you rather stop pretending?’

Jean’s breath catches, and Ava presses her advantage. ‘You’ve been happy these last two weeks. Properly happy. And on all the nights you’ve stayed with me. Look me in the eye and tell me that doesn’t matter.’

‘Who isn’t happy when they’re getting regular orgasms?’

Ava’s mouth twists. ‘No. Don’t do that. Do not pretend like it’s only a sex thi—’

‘And what does being happy have to do with anything?’ Jean shakes her head, incredulous. ‘Adults don’t make decisions based on happiness alone. I haven’t spent all these years working towards becoming managing partner so that I could be happy.’

Ava’s expression verges dangerously close to pity. ‘Then why did you?’

The question knocks Jean off course, flooding her with uncertainty.

Why has she travelled so far down this path?

There’s no joy in the thought of returning to her corner office, none of the excitement she’s found in helping Ava prepare for her charity launch.

With Marianne rejecting her offer in such a spectacular fashion, the old dream of them taking the firm together is well and truly dead.

‘All that, what you’re talking about, it’s so fragile.

It could be taken away at any moment. I wanted something solid; something that lasts. ’

Ava steps closer then, voice unbearably soft. ‘The only time you’ve ever come truly alive while describing that job is talking about the hours you spent with Kate. I think she was what you wanted, far more than anything to do with the firm.’

‘No.’ Jean backs away, shivering in the cool night air. ‘That’s not true. Or why would I have chosen my career over her?’

‘Because you were scared. Because you were traumatised. Because we live in a world more likely to punish women who are victimised than the men who abuse them.’ There’s no judgement in Ava’s eyes, even now.

Only an understanding that leaves Jean feeling naked, though her shirt skims her knees.

‘You don’t have to spend the rest of your life in penance for that decision.

We could be together. And nobody needs to know until you’re good and ready. ’

Jean places a steadying hand against the table’s glass, cool beneath her palm.

Aaliyah was right – of course she was. Jean had been a fool not to see it, when Ava has spent all these months drawing closer.

Or maybe , says the sly voice in her head, you didn’t want to see.

You wanted to have your cake and eat it too.

‘Ava, I am telling you, that is not going to happen.’

‘Just consider your options – that’s all I’m asking.

Nothing about your life has to change.’ Ava holds up both hands and speaks slowly, as if she’s come face to face with a wild animal.

‘We could have something solid, Jean. I know that I’m not the person you planned on being with. But if you jump, I will catch you.’

It’s too much. Jean tugs at her collar, gasping for air. Ava reaches for her shoulder, but Jean pulls away as if scalded by her touch. ‘I don’t want that life with you,’ Jean hisses. ‘I want the one I’m living now. And what the hell gives you the right to judge me for that?’

‘I’m no—’

‘You think there’s some kind of virtue in making life as hard for yourself as you possibly can?’ Jean slams her hand against the table, palm stinging as the glass shudders. ‘There’s not. There is, however, a lot to be said for making the most of the cards you’ve been dealt.’

Ava’s hand, still reaching towards Jean, withdraws. Her voice wary. ‘What are you saying?’

Now it’s Jean who advances, finger pointing in accusation. ‘That you could blend in if you wanted to. You could have done anything at all if you had, instead of limiting your own potential.’

Ava goes deathly pale, white as the moon’s impassive face as it looks down upon them. ‘I don’t… That’s not…’

‘You tell me that I’m scared because I don’t live what you consider an authentic truth .’ Jean injects real venom into those two words. ‘But I think you’re the coward, too afraid ever to find out just how far you could have gone if you’d really tried.’

‘Fuck you, Jean.’

‘I wish you would, instead of going all touchy-feely on me.’ Instead of slipping past every defence to claim some part of Jean that she had long since locked away.

The words are sharp enough to cut Ava’s knees out from under her; she slumps into Jean’s recently vacated chair. ‘Who are you?’ Tears spill down Ava’s cheeks as she searches Jean’s face. ‘Because I don’t know this woman at all.’

‘That’s exactly my point! This is who I’ve always been.’ Jean slams a hand against her breast, and something cracks beneath the muscle and sinew. ‘This is who I will always be. You don’t know me, Ava. At all. The person you’re asking to be with you? She doesn’t exist.’