Read Online The Secret Keeping by Francine Saint Marie - Free Book Online
Authors: Francine Saint Marie
Tags: Fiction, Suspense, Family & Relationships, Romance, Mystery, Love & Romance, Women, Lesbian, Lgbt, Lesbian Romance
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one last look in the mirror.
“If not, I’ll be home later to masturbate.”
“Del!”
“Don’t wait up!” she shouted gleefully.
The closing door and the now quiet apartment marked the first opportunity for Lydia to be alone in almost a week and she inhaled the moment like a breath of fresh air.
Suppertime.
The unrewarding search in Delilah’s refrigerator brought forth the image of her Saturday feast again and she worried anew about the empty window seat and what it all might mean. She opened and closed the cupboard doors searching in vain for something to eat. Nothing in the pantry, either. Delilah Domestic she is not. It was foolish perhaps to go too far with conclusions, she reminded herself about the lunch, as she looked for the freshness date on a box of crackers. Toss it, she said, looking for the garbage can. Hungry and nothing but fungus in the fridge. After all, she really didn’t know anything. The benefactor, so identified by the waiter, need not be the blond, in which case it would be smart to stop playing with food and to exercise a bit more caution. Need not be. That blond.
But who else could it be? A man? What man? Ugh, a married man. She hadn’t considered that possibility.
Would a married man be that discreet? She pondered it, her head in the freezer. Nah, wouldn’t a man be confident enough to publicly solicit her, married or not? Of course, she decided, rummaging through frozen lumps of aluminum foil. Whereas a woman…a woman trying to seduce another woman? She thought of the black silk gloves. She would never attempt it, not even with silk. That would take balls. Or tits, she laughed, still reluctant to rule it out. She discovered a triangular shaped wrapper in the back of the icebox and opened it out of curiosity. Pizza. Lydia cringed at the idea of it. Knowing Del, she thought, this could be ten years old. She stuck the slice into the microwave and peered at it through the glass with as much surety as a student performing a science project.
Ding!
The food held up under inspection and she sat down on the couch to eat it. Of course this meal didn’t compare to creamed oysters, but that was no surprise.
Del was right, she thought, chewing gingerly and sliding an old movie into the VCR. She must have somebody. The reason why she wasn’t there on Saturday could easily be that she was with someone else, somewhere else…
Lydia ruminated slowly.
It was a bit tough and hard to swallow.
And the movie was stupid and the food sucked.
And the bed was uncomfortable and the sheets scratched.
And she hated not knowing what to think anymore.
_____
The week closed high at Soloman-Schmitt. Hopes of a merger. Hopes. Rumors. Fears. And lots and lots of speculation.
Whatever it takes sometimes.
_____
She missed her.
It was proving chancy lately, counting on Frank’s for glimpses of the blond. She wasn’t there Friday night nor the subsequent Saturday for lunch and Lydia found that the vacuum created by her absence could not be filled with anything else, no matter how exciting it was to see the progress in the apartment, with all the raw wood seeping through it, filling the place like the rising tide, no matter how busy she kept herself so that her mind wouldn’t wander after the woman.
There was no substitute for her Saturday ritual and she could not go home yet. That’s what she was inclined to do when she felt like this, lock herself in. Soon, she said, trying to reassure herself. Soon she could move back into her penthouse. Soon the woman would return and this time she would speak to her.
Reconstruction was taking longer than projected, however, and Lydia was advised by the foreman that the crew would require another week past the original deadline and that he was terribly sorry for the inconvenience.
This did not help matters any, but it didn’t stress Delilah, either, who insisted that she was not put out by the delay and rather enjoyed having a roommate. It made her feel
“If not, I’ll be home later to masturbate.”
“Del!”
“Don’t wait up!” she shouted gleefully.
The closing door and the now quiet apartment marked the first opportunity for Lydia to be alone in almost a week and she inhaled the moment like a breath of fresh air.
Suppertime.
The unrewarding search in Delilah’s refrigerator brought forth the image of her Saturday feast again and she worried anew about the empty window seat and what it all might mean. She opened and closed the cupboard doors searching in vain for something to eat. Nothing in the pantry, either. Delilah Domestic she is not. It was foolish perhaps to go too far with conclusions, she reminded herself about the lunch, as she looked for the freshness date on a box of crackers. Toss it, she said, looking for the garbage can. Hungry and nothing but fungus in the fridge. After all, she really didn’t know anything. The benefactor, so identified by the waiter, need not be the blond, in which case it would be smart to stop playing with food and to exercise a bit more caution. Need not be. That blond.
But who else could it be? A man? What man? Ugh, a married man. She hadn’t considered that possibility.
Would a married man be that discreet? She pondered it, her head in the freezer. Nah, wouldn’t a man be confident enough to publicly solicit her, married or not? Of course, she decided, rummaging through frozen lumps of aluminum foil. Whereas a woman…a woman trying to seduce another woman? She thought of the black silk gloves. She would never attempt it, not even with silk. That would take balls. Or tits, she laughed, still reluctant to rule it out. She discovered a triangular shaped wrapper in the back of the icebox and opened it out of curiosity. Pizza. Lydia cringed at the idea of it. Knowing Del, she thought, this could be ten years old. She stuck the slice into the microwave and peered at it through the glass with as much surety as a student performing a science project.
Ding!
The food held up under inspection and she sat down on the couch to eat it. Of course this meal didn’t compare to creamed oysters, but that was no surprise.
Del was right, she thought, chewing gingerly and sliding an old movie into the VCR. She must have somebody. The reason why she wasn’t there on Saturday could easily be that she was with someone else, somewhere else…
Lydia ruminated slowly.
It was a bit tough and hard to swallow.
And the movie was stupid and the food sucked.
And the bed was uncomfortable and the sheets scratched.
And she hated not knowing what to think anymore.
_____
The week closed high at Soloman-Schmitt. Hopes of a merger. Hopes. Rumors. Fears. And lots and lots of speculation.
Whatever it takes sometimes.
_____
She missed her.
It was proving chancy lately, counting on Frank’s for glimpses of the blond. She wasn’t there Friday night nor the subsequent Saturday for lunch and Lydia found that the vacuum created by her absence could not be filled with anything else, no matter how exciting it was to see the progress in the apartment, with all the raw wood seeping through it, filling the place like the rising tide, no matter how busy she kept herself so that her mind wouldn’t wander after the woman.
There was no substitute for her Saturday ritual and she could not go home yet. That’s what she was inclined to do when she felt like this, lock herself in. Soon, she said, trying to reassure herself. Soon she could move back into her penthouse. Soon the woman would return and this time she would speak to her.
Reconstruction was taking longer than projected, however, and Lydia was advised by the foreman that the crew would require another week past the original deadline and that he was terribly sorry for the inconvenience.
This did not help matters any, but it didn’t stress Delilah, either, who insisted that she was not put out by the delay and rather enjoyed having a roommate. It made her feel
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