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Down Come the Walls
“Do not seek the because - in love there is no because, no reason, no explanation, no solutions.”
― Anaïs Nin, from Henry and June
The opulence of Deborah Vance’s rear sitting room, with its built-in bar and soft lighting was not lost on Ava. Beauty in art collections, high thread counts and soft wood panelling…success and finery used to show to the world that Deborah’s misfortunes did not define her in any way. There was only space for apathy. Or so it seemed to most, even to her daughter DJ or her CEO Marcus.
Ava Daniels, writer and sometimes confidant to Deborah knew that the older woman liked to present a very “put-together” image to the world. Deborah had defied all the odds, and no one would get the better of her. However, through their work, their shared language of comedy and sense of humour, they had seen one another, perhaps as others had never seen them. Ava had felt misunderstood by everyone, and while it might have partly been her ego and misaligned victim mentality, she was not a sycophant. She told it like it was, brash and bold and lack of filter, no matter what.
This had been Deborah’s favourite thing about her, and why Ava had been taken on as a writer in the first place. “You stand up to me,” Deborah had said to her one night after a show. “Why is that?”
Ava had merely shrugged and said, “The same reason you say shit to me, I guess…” Though why that might be was still somewhat of a mystery.
They often traded barbs and insults and were rough with one another because they understood the other. Watching from the outside of their tête-à-têtes, Marcus and Damien would roll their eyes and leave the room. The two women were loud, obnoxious even, but it was a communication they both understood and appreciated. No bullshit, just rawness and wit.
It led to many moments of butting heads, but neither gave up, which would often run over into anger or tears (from Ava) and round about apologies laced with jokes to hide any vulnerabilities from the both of them.
Such was their evening, as Ava looked around the rear sitting room, trying to count to ten in vain. Stop pushing me away, woman, she thought angrily, trying to rationalise Deborah’s absolute refusal on some small thing that shouldn’t be an issue. They’d likely forget all about it in a week anyway, but Ava felt miffed at Deborah’s pattern of shying away from fear or emotion. For all the older woman’s experience and strength, she was never good at navigating feelings .
Ava managed to count to ten and got up slowly. She sat beside Deborah and nudged her shoulder. “I don’t want to argue.”
“Could have fooled me,” Deborah bit back.
Ava bit her lip and counted to ten again. She got to about six before she burst. “Stop pushing me away.”
She did her best to keep her voice level and low.
Deborah looked at her and raised an eyebrow.
And there it was, that cool contemplation.
“Why did you ask me back here and for my opinion if you won’t let me in or hear me out?”
“Because –” Deborah stopped and looked away.
Ava wanted to make a joke before Deborah did, so she wouldn’t see Ava’s sensitivity to this point. All Ava wanted was to be near her and it had cost her a relationship or two and nearly her job. When Deborah had sent her away, it had very nearly broken her heart, which was a weird way to react to getting fired…but then again, therapy had shown that it had been more than a job and Deborah had perhaps been more than a boss. It hadn’t been easy to admit that in couples therapy, but it had solved the problem of her relationship: they’d broken up in the car outside the therapist’s office.
Ava didn’t make a joke in the end, because honesty was perhaps the best way forward for them.
“I want to be here, Deborah. With you.”
Deborah huffed and played with a tassel on a sofa pillow.
“The last time I said that, you sent me away.”
“Ava –” Deborah couldn’t start that sentence either, and Ava noticed a quiver in her voice.
This to-ing and fro-ing in no man’s land was getting under Ava’s skin. They were no longer debating the work, but something entirely different.
With a boldness that she did not feel, Ava nudged Deborah’s arm again with her own.
“I know you…Deborah. You’ve got to understand.”
Deborah looked like she wanted to move away, but didn't. She froze.
Ava continued. “I know you better than anyone. We don’t write the way we do without understanding one another. You know this. Right?”
She took a deep breath, and stroked Deborah’s hand with the back of her right forefinger.
“Deborah, you are the most powerful person in any room you walk into, except with me. I see your walls – and I can see right through them.”
Her hand moved up and gripped Deborah’s shoulder. “And I am going to spend every waking moment tearing them down.”
Ava half expected a quip from Deborah well if you were awake long enough – but the other woman was silent, lips pressed tightly together as if holding back.
“I see you. Ok?”
Ava felt the body under her hand begin to tremble. With another breath for courage, she slipped the hand holding Deborah’s shoulder to the back of her neck and pulled her, very gently, into a hug.
She put her mouth against the older woman’s ear. “You don’t have to be ‘Deborah fucking Vance’ when you’re with me. I’m already obsessed with her. Adore her. Fucking funny lady, am I right?”
Ava felt Deborah’s arms come around her waist. Felt her trembling.
Ava put her mouth on Deborah’s hair in a ghost of a kiss and hugged her a bit tighter. “I know you’re afraid. I understand the walls. But I’m right here to help you. I’m not going anywhere. Don’t let yourself continue to make decisions out of fear. TALK to me – communicate with me.”
Deborah pulled back, eyes shining. “That’s all your generation ever wants to do… talk .” She said this quietly but bitterly. Ava wished she would have shouted instead.
Ava raised an eyebrow. “Yes, because not talking about your feelings has gotten Boomers and Gen X sooooo far.” She rolled her eyes and said in a high voice, “Traaaumaaa.”
Deborah shook her head. “I don’t…” She stopped and looked away.
“Well of course you don’t know how,” Ava said placatingly, as if reading her mind. “You’ve never tried. You have to learn.”
“Ava, I swear to god, if you are trying to get me to go to therapy…”
“Like it would kill you? Come on.” Ava snorted. “No, I’m not trying to get you to go to therapy. I’m asking you to realise that pushing everyone away or making decisions out of fear is not going to work anymore.”
“Why not,” Deborah began, nearly pouting. “Has until now.”
“Yes, and now we are trying something new as the old way involves making everyone who loves you miserable…”
Ava suddenly heard her own words and looked up quickly. Deborah stared back at her. Ava saw the walls rise in her eyes, and waited for the dismissal.
“If you’re so miserable, then why stick around?”
There it was .
Ava sighed. “You are afraid to let anyone get close, I get it.” She threw up her hands. “But it is too late for that.”
Deborah’s mouth turned down. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she sniped. “You don’t know what you’re talking about…”
Ava heard Deborah’s voice falter and knew she had won.
“Don’t I?” she said in a soft, low murmur. “Don’t kid yourself, Deborah.”
Deborah shook her head and then rubbed her arms as if she was cold.
Ava felt like Deborah wanted to give in, but couldn’t bear to show any weakness.
“When we write and we are in our zone, it’s like magic…” Ava leaned closer again. “Tell me honestly, you don’t feel that?”
Deborah looked back up at her. “Yes, we’re good at what we do.”
“We’re better than good, and you know it.” Ava waved her hands, trying to find the words.
“It’s like the first puff of a cigarette you’ve been craving, or sinking into a hot bath, or like… when you bite into a burrito when you’re starving... It’s like … we speak the same language and no one else gets it.”
Deborah sighed. “What are you saying, Ava? What…what do you want from me?”
Right, because why would anyone be here if they didn’t want something… Ava understood where this comment came from, but she was tired of it.
Ava cocked her head. “Honesty. Honesty to yourself, mostly. You are denying yourself, and I’m not sure what kind of penance you are trying to uphold, but don’t you think it’s time you stopped?”
Deborah’s eyes flashed, and Ava knew she had hit a nerve. She waited for the storm, but it never came. Deborah lowered her shoulders and rubbed her forehead.
“If I stop…and all the walls come crumbling down…what will be left? If I let you in…if you knew…you wouldn’t like what you saw…” Her voice was small and Ava felt a pang go through her chest.
Ava took the other woman’s hand carefully. “Deborah, I think you are afraid of what you would see. I have already seen it. I know it. And I’m still here.”
To her amazement, Deborah’s lip began to tremble. “Oh honey…you have no idea…”
Ava pulled her into an embrace again. “But I want to…don’t you see?” Her voice cracked. “You have so much to give … so much love to give, I just know it.”
“But who would ever want it when...” Deborah bit back her words, still not daring, or perhaps unsure of how to say it.
“I would. DJ would…Kathy.” Ava hugged her tightly, rubbing her shoulders.
“They hate me…”
“Well…they hate the old you.” Ava attempted a light voice and said with a shrug, “We’re working on it…”
Deborah gave a small huff of laughter. “And you?”
Ava pulled back to look at her. She swallowed hard. “You’re in my head…I can’t…” Ava shook her head slightly and smiled, looking away. “I went to months of therapy, trying to get over you…not the job , not our writing …YOU…”
Deborah breathed in sharply. “Ava, honey, look at me.”
Ava raised her head.
“I’m too old for anything you could possibly want. I have nothing to give you, for Pete’s sake. You are so young.”
Ava nodded. “I get that. It’s what I tried to reason with myself. But it’s me who feels like I have nothing to give.”
She shrugged. “Anyway, I read this thing on Instagram that was, like… about making most of the opportunities you have and not the ones you think you should have .”
Ava continued, “And I guess what I’m saying is this is an opportunity we have. Maybe we like it, maybe it works, or maybe we agree it isn’t for the best. Is it unconventional? Yup. Is it an abuse of power? Maybe. But, at the end of the day, we are consenting adults, and I don’t see why we should be punished for wanting more for ourselves.”
She was about to say more, but Deborah broke in, recognising a rant coming on. “That’s all well and good, but what will–”
“Other people think?” Ava interrupted. “Yeah, kinda don’t care…I mean no one has to know if we agree to stop…”
Deborah looked at her in disbelief. “Ava, are you serious right now?”
“Deadly.”
Deborah scoffed. “And what if I don’t agree with you? Hmm? What if it ruins what we do have? I can’t even imagine what it is you expect…”
“Let me paint a picture for you then, shall I?” Ava shot back in frustration.
“I imagine us having coffee in those nice English bone china cups you like so much, the dogs at our feet. You read the paper to me, and we laugh and joke and talk and write the morning away. You do your face routine and I watch you. We go to work and you kill it like you always do, and when the work day is done, I make you some of those vegan South Beach tacos that you NEVER let me cook even though they are the BEST, and we eat and watch SVU and take the doggos for a walk. You wash my hair for me in the bath and make me do a skincare routine. I dunno…what we do now, basically.”
“I don’t recall you having a skincare routine,” Deborah quipped.
“No, but I will, because it’s not only you who is changing and growing.” Ava rolled her eyes.
“And…what about when…what…”
Deborah Vance was at a sudden loss for words for what might have been the first time since Ava had known her. This moved her for some reason, and Ava’s face softened.
“When the lights are off?” Ava moved closer. “What then?”
Deborah’s breath caught. She licked her lips and tried again.
“What if … I mean, I don’t know if I…I mean…you know…”
“Deborah,” Ava said in a near whisper. “Can I …”
Deborah stared at Ava’s lips. “Why don’t you just do it?”
“Because, consent is sexy, or haven’t you heard?”
“Just shut up already…”
Ava touched her lips to Deborah’s, turning her head upwards slightly to reach better. They both gasped and time stood still.
Ava had kissed many women - and men - she’d had some really great kisses that turned her on or made her feel faint. But this tentative kiss that turned deep almost instantly, with Deborah’s tongue pressing for entrance…this kiss went straight to her clit, leaving her nearly slack-jawed in awe…
One of them moaned, but Ava couldn’t say who. One of them had their shirt off already, and Ava realised with a shock that it was her. When did that happen?
And suddenly their hands were everywhere at once, touching, feeling, sensing.
Ava tried to think thoughts, but it was impossible – she ran on some kind of instinctual autopilot.
Deborah pulled her over to her part of the sofa and Ava slid across her lap, stradling the other woman. Ava’s tits, eye level with Deborah, seem to perk at the thought. Her flimsy, awful bra from high school was flung off and Deborah’s hot mouth claimed a nipple. Ava ground her hips down and whined. Her hands flew to the back of Deborah’s head, guiding her and encouraging her.
It was more than she had ever hoped or dreamed. Ava thought she might cry, but instead she tried to focus on not climaxing right then and there, like some horny teenager.
Deborah’s hands were at Ava’s waist, and she felt the subtle pressure on the hem of her jeans. Deborah wanted her to get closer, to find the friction for both of them.
“Can I take this off?” Ava panted, plucking at Deborah’s fleece, desperately wanting to see and feel more of Deborah.
Without a word, Deborah unzipped the fleece, revealing a black, lace bra that held breasts Ava wanted nothing more than to sink her face into.
“Jesus, Deborah…you’re gorgeous…”
The way Ava said it, with such awe and sincerity, made Deborah blush.
Ava pulled Deborah down to lay on the sofa, kissing the tops of her breasts reverently. Deborah pulled her bra down and Ava latched on immediately. Someone moaned again, and Ava was pretty sure it was her this time.
“I could kiss these forever…” she murmured while feasting, using her hands and tongue and teeth.
When Deborah’s hips began to move against Ava’s thigh, her mind completely stopped. It was pure instinct and raw desire from there. All she knew was Deborah’s skin and the way it smelled of cold cream, how soft her lips were, how supple her body was under her hands, and the way her back arched when she stroked between her thighs.
Ava wanted to be rough as desire ran hot through her veins, but she was gentle and deliberate, alternatively fast or slow depending on the noises Deborah made. She was in an area of expertise, one might say, but doing this with Deborah was as if it was her first time all over again. Sharp intakes of breath followed by drawn out groans spurred her on.
“I want… to be inside you,” Ava breathed, moving against the other woman. “Please…”
Deborah took Ava’s hand and pushed it under the hem of her panties as an answer.
Entering her was some kind of heaven. The noise Deborah made when she did it was worth all the heartache and arguing. Ava’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head as she bit her tongue to calm her desire to ravage this woman underneath her. Later , her mind managed to tell her.
Ava kissed and licked and moved her fingers – the ones on the hands Deborah was forever commenting on – and when Deborah shuddered under her, clenching around her fingers and not letting them go as the orgasm rippled through, Ava could have burst into tears at the sheer joy of it all. Instead she held the other woman, whispering sweet things and stroking her hair.
But, it was Deborah who burst into tears as the aftershocks surprised her, making her jolt and shudder anew. It was Deborah who grasped at Ava’s back, clinging on to her for dear life, as if she were lost at sea. It was Deborah who stared into Ava’s eyes as the younger woman stroked her hair, disbelief and joy spreading across her face.
“You look like an angel,” Ava said, her eyes full of love.
“A fallen one, maybe,” Deborah said quietly.
“Not a chance…” Ava kissed her sweetly, reassuring her. “You were amazing.”
“ You were,” Deborah said weakly. She smiled and Ava thought her heart might break. They stared at one another for a bit, drinking each other in.
Ava nudged the other woman’s nose with her own. “Hey, you…”
“Hey.” Deborah laughed softly. “I feel like putty.”
“I’ll take it,” Ava joked. “Can I get you anything?”
“Some water, maybe…”
Ava gently extricated herself and went to the bathroom in the hallway. As she moved, she felt how wet she was, and she squeezed her thighs together. Later, she told herself again.
When Deborah had sat up and had her water, she reached to take Ava’s hand.
“What about you? Don’t you need…”
Ava was struck by the idea that perhaps Deborah had never been with someone who didn’t just take and take and had conflated ‘need’ and ‘want’.
“I don’t need anything.” She smiled at Deborah’s disbelieving look. “You don’t have to reciprocate…”
“But I think I want to,” Deborah breathed, eyes slightly frightened by this admission.
“Let’s get more comfortable then?”
They moved upstairs to Deborah’s bed and lay together naked. They touched each other’s faces and explored one another’s arms and necks, and it was so tender that Ava once again thought she might cry. Once they kissed, it was like instinct took over for them both again, and soon Deborah was caressing Ava’s thighs.
Her hand hesitated, and Ava whispered, “It’s just like when you touch yourself…”
“I don’t want to hurt you…”
“I’ll let you know…don’t worry. Just do what feels good for you. Whatever you want to do…”
Deborah hesitated a moment more before gently touching Ava. She breathed in sharply at the wetness she felt.
“Oh my gooodddd,” Ava moaned, biting the back of her own hand in restraint.
This seemed to bolster Deborah’s courage, and all at once Ava realised that she was truly and utterly fucked, in more than one sense. This woman had bewitched her and nothing would ever be the same again. They would be fools to think otherwise.
She came with a strangled cry.
And Deborah, having seen the result of her forays, threw off all her first time jitters and pounced on Ava. She raked her fingers through Ava’s red hair, pulling at her roots in order to expose the younger woman’s throat. She licked and nibbled, and Ava heard herself mewling like a lost kitten. Ava ground against Deborah’s leg and came again spectacularly all over it within a minute.
They were both panting.
“It’s a good thing I work out,” Deborah said between breaths.
“And I apparently need to start…” Ava said, chest heaving. “Though I heard a podcast that said you burn up to 100 calories per minute during sex–”
Deborah kissed her. “You and your podcasts…”
They went again…and again…and the more familiar they became with each other in this new way, the more they spoke in between and laughed. The birds were singing to a new dawn by the time they slipped off into a sated sleep.