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April, 02. 1879
Ashford School.
Carol was putting the stack of unread letters out of under her mattress, she would throw them away today. Abby caught her and sent her a knowing look.
“Your dear parents?”
“My dear parents.”
“What is is this time?”
Carol showed her they were unopened, all but one. “I am quite sure they all follow the model of this letter, that is to say in a few words: I am a failure, I should come back home, please come meet our oldest friends' son Harge...”
“Aren't you scared they will cut off your allowance? What if you are forced to come home?”
“You think they haven't already tried? When they did it I started working to earn money. They could not bear the shame of their precious daughter ruining the family's gilded reputation.”
“Should I be happy to be poor enough that my family does not have any reputation to maintain?” Abby asked with levity even though Carol could see right through her. Even if her family was penniless, even if she had no family to talk about, even if she moved country, continent, she and Carol would still be judged. No matter what.
Abby could follow the train of thoughts and sighed dejectedly. “Anyway I am going into town later, do you want to come with me?”
Carol was going to answer when a sight caught her attention. A girl was carrying a suitcase, too heavy for it was swinging left and right even though she was holding it with both her hands. Her hands were red under the friction and her knuckled white with the effort. Ms. Florence was showing her around, not helping her at all or proposing her to put the shabby bag down. What a damned bitch, this Ms. Florence. She was going to go there and remedy to the situation when a hand on her wrist stopped her.
“Don't be so obvious.” Her friend's voice rang out tiredly in her ear. “And did you forget your history with Ms. Florence? If you stand out from the crowd she will not miss you.” That was true. When she had arrived here Carol had been so lucky to meet Abigail, a fast friend, a confident and a twin in her queerness. Nothing had happened between them but for some reason Ms. Florence, who might as well be a ferret, was onto them. She always had this look in her eyes when she was looking at Carol… Her blood froze the first time it happened, she felt naked, exposed for everyone to lapidate.
“You are right.” She settled on quietly while watching the new girl. She was young, fresh-faced and her smile was a bit tight around the edges. Carol wanted to see her real happy smile, she really wanted to. This feeling was immediate, unwelcome and quite frankly intrusive. It made Carol uneasy and awkward, as if everybody could tell who she was. But no, only Abby was looking at her with her soft, kind brown eyes.
April, 25. 1879
Her name was Therese Belivet and Carol wanted to know everything about her. She wanted to know where she came from, what she liked to do in her free time, how her dimples would feel under her fingers… One could even say she was obsessed and for the first week she had barely eaten anything at all until Abby got angry at her foolishness. Of course she was foolish, for so many reasons, but this sweet face was the first thing she saw when she woke up and the last when she fell asleep. Her thoughts were occupied, inhabited, possessed with those gentle eyes, this milky skin, this whole special girl.
“Do something about it, bloody hell!” Abby erupted one day. Carol understood her irritation very well. She suddenly felt small and horrible for being so insensitive to her dearest friend. She knew she could be selfish.
“Help me?”
“Do you want me to bring her a word from you? A word you would have sprayed with your perfume?” Abby smiled coyly. She had thought about it then? Who did Abby want to send a sweet word to? Carol felt awful for she knew the answer would have been to her.
“No! No, I cannot! What if she reports me?” Carol shook her head vehemently in fear. “No, no. I would not stand this girl to hate me. I'd rather she does not even know me. Her distaste, her hate directed toward me, no...”
The thought was too much and hurtful and she could hear in this honey voice of hers “you are disgusting, I hate you, how could you think I could like you, even a little bit?” She went for a walk and before she knew it she had walked several miles. She knew the town well enough so she went in the direction of a little lake that was always agreeable, especially as it was a bit hidden from view. She planned to put her feet in the water, calm down and think about her life and her choices. Before she could do so she heard a few splashes and saw a head bob up and down in the water.
Carol cursed and blessed fate. It seemed she could not escape her inner demon for Therese was there, naked in the water. Carol dropped to her knees, her knees buckling under the weight of her feelings and of shame. She also did not want to be seen, for whatever reason she did not consciously know. Her pretty white dress was dirty with mud on her legs and if she could have made a noise she would have laughed at the metaphor. She was a sinner and her actions only soiled her.
Well, fuck all that.
She watched with abandon the sight offered to her. Therese was beautiful and the heat in her cunt could witness. With shame, with Ms. Florence's hard eyes trained on her, with her family's disappointment for her, with all that she started touching herself. It was fast and dirty and hot. When she tried to stand up again, the tremors in her legs stopped her. She fell back down and rubbed her legs together, prolonging her pleasure. Well, fuck all that, she was done for.
When she came back, Abby questioned her with her eyes. “I need your help, what do I say to her?”
“You want me to play her to train yourself, is that it?”
The idea was bizarre to say the least, and she could never see Therese instead of Abby, but… if it prevented her from stuttering or talking nonsense… “I hadn't thought of that, but would you?”
“Of course.”
Oh Carol could tell herself she was not cruel, but doing that while knowing her friend's feelings was indeed very cruel.
May, 29. 1879
Abby had gone away a month ago, back to her sick mother, or so it was what she had said. They still communicated through letters, becoming rarer and rarer, but she knew that Therese coming into her life had upset the balance of her existence and about everything else too. She was sorry about it but she also knew she could reunite her best friend and the love of her life outside of Ashford. Once they would leave, they all could be free. What a bizarre notion, freedom. Carol had escaped her home life and felt free at Ashford, far from her parents. And yet the rules and the microcosm of society they lived in was a recipe for disaster: a prison by any other name would be as horrendous.
She traced slowly and languidly the soft hair on Therese's legs. It must have tickled her because she let out several sighs, deep throaty sighs that reduced Carol's resolve every second. They were naked lying down in the grass, under the warm sun. The feeling of freedom and love she felt was indescribable.
The grass was a bit wet, and it was scratching behind her thighs but she felt at ease and good beside Therese. She remembered the first time they had met at the lake, by accident of course, and how Therese had innocently eaten the juicy strawberries, putting red on her lips and on her thighs in a sensual spectacle.
She put her nose in the crook of her neck, smelling all that was Therese. She always smelled so good, her skin warm and sweet. She knew she was wearing some eau de rose, and the smell was intoxicating, making her grind her teeth at the sweetness.
She put the tip of her fingers on Therese's light pink nipples, stroking with fascination the silky skin. She put down several kisses between her breasts, on her navel and on the hair of her lips. Then she kissed every mole she could see, in the hollow of her back, on her neck, on her arms, behind her knees. The last ones particularly tingled her and she laughed so prettily.
She took Therese's hand in hers and compared the size, the skin texture, the shape. Finally she kissed her fourth finger, her ring finger: a promise
“Before you distract me too much-”
“Me?” Carol said feigning innocence.
“Yes, you and your lovely lips.” Therese accused before diving in for her satchel. Carol had wondered why she had brought it but now she could see why. “I know you love reading and Lord Byron's book from the library can attest to that-”
“Did the librarian complain about the state of the book?”
“She did not have to! It's bursting at the seams and everybody can see it.”
“It shows the book was loved and read multiple times, that's a very nice compliment.”
“If I see Lord Byron any time soon I will tell him, his anthology has so much success no other girl can borrow the book.”
“Oh please. Anyway I still think that old hag of a librarian is using the place to be a dictator.”
Therese laughed. “Are you talking about the time where you were removed from the premises because you tried smoking in the poets' section?”
“I still did not digest that affront over my person.”
“Well...” Therese opened her bag. “I have a present for you.” She retrieved a beautiful book, with a dark green hard cover and golden lines on the side.
“Lord Byron!” Carol exclaimed, running her fingers reverently across the book. “Therese, are you out of your mind? Thank you!” She kissed her and for the rest of the afternoon they alternated between kissing, reading lines and sleeping.
June, 03. 1879
“Sir, did the ancient Greeks thought women and men were different species?”
“That is correct, Miss Belivet. What put in the right direction?”
“Hesiod uses different words for the human race in Greek, one that would be likened to women 'gynècè' and the other to men.”
“Very good, very good indeed.” Their old professor praised.
Carol smiled proudly and took Therese's hand under their shared desk. Therese smiled back and tightened her hold.
“Furthermore the context of the creation of Pandora and the word used for the human population, means that men produced men and then women produced women.” Therese continued, basking in the attention of Carol.
“Very good!”
Carol leaned toward her. “Very good, darling.”
Therese blushed and shook her head. “Don't mock me.”
“Of course not, I am proud people recognize you are smart.” She leaned even closer when she saw the professor had changed subject and was not focusing on Therese any more. “Let me show you how much I like it.”
“Wha ” Therese started, startled at the cold fingers titillating between her legs, over her dress. “Carol!”
“Shhh nobody can see, I want to touch you.” So she did, as discreetly as possible. Therese, absolutely mortified but not enough to stop the ministrations, moved skilfully so her ivory dress was only bunched up on one side. Carol felt thrilled, the most adrenaline she could have ever felt in her entire life even if she were to meet the Queen. She looked around to give the impression she was still following their professor's rambling, she stopped on the dusty map on the wall so old some countries had changed names, then she caught the eyes of another girl. As soon as she realized Carol had seen her she lowered her eyes and blushed profusely. Carol wanted to laugh, her throat up in the air, but she could not so she kept it inside of her. She was not scared any more, could not be.
She touched and touched and moved two of her fingers feeling the heat and wetness, feeling the nub, pushing on it, twirling it. Soon Therese was in a dire state and her release was so powerful and forbidden she jerked forward violently and knocked down her ink pot on the table.
“Miss Belivet I see you are very enthusiastic about ancient Greece. By the way can you tell me what 'enthusiasm' means, after you've cleaned up?”
She panted and looked accusingly at Carol before breaking into a shy, satisfied smile. “To be possessed by a god.”
June, 15. 1879.
Carol had received another letter and she opened it for once. Her whole world was breaking down and her parents threatened her of internment.
She kissed Therese one last time while she was sleeping. Her wet, pink lips open and plump welcomed her like she was home, but no, she was leaving for something that was very much not home. At least you are safe. And she left without looking back.
June, 15. 1879
Carol's family estate.
“Carol, meet Harge Aird.”
It was a set up like her parents had tried many times. This time they got her and she let her gloved hand be taken by this man to be kissed. Her mother looked at her with insistence, surely so she would take off her gloves. She could dream, never would this ridiculous man touch her skin.
“Hello, very nice to meet you, my lady. I've heard so much about you.” He said.
Carol did not answer. Her anxious mother took the situation in her hands. “Wouldn't it be best if we let the love birds to talk in private?” Love birds? Oh nausea took over her body and she had to sit down heavily.
When they were alone they looked at each other. Harge Aird seemed surprised by her behaviour. The damned fool! Did he think his chubby hands, his rat eyes and his pompous air would win her heart? They already knew each other from the various ceremonies both their parents had attended together with their children in tow, she knew him enough. With shaking hands she grabbed a cigarette and lit it.
“You… smoke? I don't think I've ever seen a woman do it.” His tone made her feel like he was attempting a conversation but at the same time he was lecturing her and judging her, bravo! She blew out all the smoke in his face and watched with a sick satisfaction his coughing fit.
Hadn't she once said 'fuck all that'? Now was really the time to fuck all that.
She removed the pins from her high bun and shook her head to let her hair loose. “Listen. I smoke, I curse, I am loud and frankly not the easiest to live with. I am never going to be your perfect wife.”
The fool seemed transfixed by the movement of her hair. “I do not mind, I know you will manage.”
All right he was obstinate. “I am already engaged to someone I love more than life itself. You cannot beat that.”
“I have money.” He said while looking confused. Confused because surely every girl and woman wanted to catch him and marry him, he was rich!
Carol licked her lips in thought. Yes, play his game that is the only thing he understands. “Well then I suppose I will be Mrs. Carol Aird.”
November, 05. 1879
Therese's aunt house.
It was old, decrepit and Carol was certain the eyes of the painted portrait at the back of the room were following her. She could not see her Therese in this environment but when she met her aunt, everything was clear. She was a stern looking woman, with a choleric temperament. Carol saw immediately her lack of love for Therese, with the memories of everything she had told her and through the physical objects: there were many portraits of her children but none of Therese. It was clearer in her behaviour, the way she would dismiss Therese and her condition.
God, her condition. Carol was left without news for about six months, and the pain she felt at the state Therese was in was overwhelming. She could have told her to wait for her, to keep on hoping. For the past months she had gathered all the money she could, taking all that her parents wanted to give as a dowry for her marriage to Harge and left before they realized she would rather die than look at him.
Now she just wanted to kidnap her Therese to go on an adventure.
xxx
France, Paris.
Day.
Carol and Therese, under the pretence of sharing body heat in this autumnal Parisian weather, walked arm in arm on the cobbled streets. Their shoes making hollow noises punctuating their talks and their giggles. Often they stopped on their walk to point at something, talk with people and admire their surroundings. Therese was much more apt at talking French than Carol who had hated their language professor, but who had made an effort in her translation skills when confronted to the scandalous forbidden French book that had been in circulation at Ashford School. They had not met anyone that took up their attention more than a few minutes, and Carol preferred it that way so she could have Therese for herself, when that happened.
Therese fumbled in her purse for a coin to throw it in a beautiful fountain, its flow vigorous enough that they received chilly drops on their faces at intervals. “I know I have it somewhere...” Her tongue peaked out of her mouth in her effort of concentration and Carol had to hide a little laugh behind her hand because of how endearing that habit was.
“Do tell me why you want to absolutely make a wish. After all aren't you happy, don't you already have what you wish for?” Carol half-joked.
Therese stopped her search to look up at Carol with wide watery eyes. “You know I am.” Her honesty and the strength of her feelings struck Carol dumb in a very unexpected way, leaving her breath short and her stomach twinging. Therese looked around a bit and when she saw no obstacle or voyeur she took a step closer. “I've never been this happy in my whole life. Do you have any doubt?”
Carol felt tears in her eyes and if she had had the talent of the poets she so loved to read she would have made a declaration here and there and to hell with the people around them. The thought of being in a foreign country struck her and she felt free in her speech. “I don't. For if you love me half as much as I love you, I think I can be sated for ten lifetimes.” She leaned down and kissed her forehead. Therese's eyes closed with a sigh and Carol's lips trailed delicately from her fragile thin eyelids to her soft pink cheek.
“Excusez-moi, mademoiselle!” A voice bellowed and jostled them out of their bubble. A young man was coming toward them, his petticoat dark and his hat a bit old, Carol was not impressed and already annoyed at his disturbance. “Je suis flatté par votre ruse même si cela faisait longtemps que je n'avais pas vu ce procédé.”
Therese seemed confused and Carol probably sported the same expression but not for the same reason. “De quoi parlez-vous?”
“Je vous ai vu faire tomber votre mouchoir à mes pieds pour que je le ramasse. Dans tous les cas, cela a fonctionné et votre visage m'enchante.”
“Je suis désolée, j'ai dû le faire tomber par inadvertance.”
“Evidemment.” He said while smirking. Carol was already annoyed beyond limits at this boy's intrusion but now he was getting cocky and she could not understand a word of this conversation. She tugged Therese's sleeve while looking down at the boy. “Votre… soeur, je présume?”
“Oui, ma soeur.” Therese answered hastily. “Et bien nous devons vous dire au revoir, nous avons des choses à faire.”
“Of course, for you are visiting from far away aren't you?” He spoke in English, surprising them both.
Therese smiled. “You talk about my ruse, what about yours?”
He dared to laugh, his mouth hanging open foolishly and his eyes never leaving Therese. Carol noticed that this exchange could have had happened without her at all: she had became completely transparent. “Great minds meet it seems.” He added with a presumptuous wink.
“Does your eye hurt?” Carol asked sharply.
He seemed taken aback. “No.”
She regarded him, smirked a bit. “Oh, my mistake.”
He blushed in shame, removed his ratty hat and bowed a little. “I am Richard Sèmequeaux, pleased to meet you.”
Neither of the girls said a thing in return for a long time. Carol, because she did not want to introduce herself to this oaf and Therese was too busy trying not to laugh at Carol's behaviour to even think about opening her mouth, so Carol took matters in her hands. “Well it certainly was a pleasure but we must take our leave, good bye.” And without anything more, she tucked her arm in Therese's and walked onwards.
“Pfft I will never listen to Jeanette any more. She might be French but the tales she told us about French boys are absolutely untrue. I will write her an incendiary letter!” Carol said very seriously until they burst out laughing.
France, Paris.
Night.
They were staying at an old lady's house because she had a free room and Carol and Therese were not rich and it was cheap. Overall it was pleasant enough for they spent their days outside and only came back to sleep, so the old lady's ranting was kept to a minimum. Carol had tried to remember the woman's name but had decided not to out of pettiness: Therese often scolded her gently about her quick judgement on people, but it was complicated to change, especially when she did not want to change. The old lady, Ismérie she grumbled as she remembered, kept talking about them in front of them, criticizing them. Carol had not understood a word but had seen Therese's embarrassment and unease, so the old lady she would be and remain for Carol. She lived alone, without any family, and often spoke to herself and the objects of her house. What a pathetic old fool! Carol did not feel sorry for her one bit.
Their sleeping arrangement was virtually the same as before: two beds side by side. When they were too tired to even look at each other after a day of intense walking, they would just hold hands between the bed, their arms dangling. Other days they would share one bed, holding each other, sharing heat and kisses. Tonight Carol wanted the latter. She felt restless and excited and scared. About what she could not be sure but she needed Therese's reassuring presence. Hence when she received only coldness and hands that pried off hers she felt hurt and confused. She went to sleep in the bed she now called hers and watched Therese walk slowly around the room, her feet light contrasting to the heavy atmosphere.
Carol could watch Therese forever, and if she had the chance to, she would. She was smaller than Carol in every sense: Carol was taller and her dresses were more filled, but dear god, Carol loved that. Her heart would always pound when she met those misty eyes and her own eyes could not stop staring and wandering whenever she got the chance, that is to say all the time. Therese was slight and soft and she could be so tenacious and fierce. Her short brown hair was shimmering in the dim light and her grey eyes were closed off. Carol hated that, hated it so much. That was Carol's own bad habit reflected on her lover. She was the one who had been reserved and kept her feelings to her own heart. Therese always wanted to break her out of it with a joyous smile and a timid joke. Her will was strong and she never gave up.
Thus feeling disconnected from her in this fashion was heartbreaking and honestly devastating.
“Darling, come to bed.” Carol pleaded.
Therese barely turned. “I am not tired.”
Carol close her eyes tightly. “Well, then.”
When she opened them again Therese was playing with an old zoetrope. The device going round and making swooshing noises irritated Carol, well she told herself that, but the fact that it got Therese's attention was probably the main reason. She stood up and went there, looking down at the little object, the images of a running horse between them. When she looked up to watch Therese she realized Therese's attention had been on her for a few minutes already.
“Aren't you scared?” Therese asked plainly but Carol could see the strength beneath it.
“No.” She answered as plainly, believing and knowing Therese would read every sentiment she meant by this simple word. She felt her heart soar with Therese, she felt alive, she felt happy and loved. Why would she ever feel scared?
Therese's head went down immediately as if this answer had hit her physically. “You are so courageous. I am ashamed of my own cowardice.” She muttered dejectedly.
“Look at me. Please, look at me.” Her voice breaking on the 'please' is probably what made Therese look up so fast she seemed dizzy for a few seconds. “I was always scared before meeting you. Always retreating and fending off people and feelings. You opened me up, you made me strong.”
“You always were strong!”
“Was I?”
“You you, god, you ” Therese fumbled and started to cry. “Do not lie to me. You touched me at the lake, you watched me that night in my bed, you were the one to kiss me for the first time. You are the one who spoke about her ambitions and inner turmoil. You are so brave and beautiful and how could I ever, oh dear, even think about coming up close to you?”
Carol would not hear any more and kissed Therese with all she felt. The kiss was rough and hurt, and wet with tears. It was not pretty, their teeth knocked, their noses met abruptly. They tasted each other and hungered for more, their spit mixing, their body pushing against each other. Carol tugged her hand in Therese's hair, who moaned at the assault, and she did it again to hear that sweet sound again. She swore she could feel Therese's hardened nipples against her stomach but she felt hot all over and her nerves were hypersensitive. It was her mind which conjured up this image among many others of Therese's body and the reactions it had in contact of Carol. She felt heady and proud for reducing her beautiful Therese to this pliant puddle in her hands. They panted in each other's mouths while separating at last.
Carol took Therese's hand and put it on her knee. Then, she brought it up, and up, it caressed her thigh and went under her nightgown. Finally it landed between her thighs and she removed her hand that was on top of Therese's.
“That's all you, that's all for you.”
Therese made a wounded cry at this, as if it was all too much. She surged forward to kiss her, as hungrily and roughly as before. Therese's fingers started moving on her and it was Carol's turn to let out aroused plaintive whines. Her fingers were so nice, and the noise in the silent room was absolutely revolting and dirty. She was so wet her digits were dabbling, and the sounds were slick and slippery. After what seemed like a few seconds, Carol panting and red, came hard. She cried out, only remembering too late to quiet down or to put her hand in front of her mouth, the pleasure travelling in her entire body.
When she came to she tried to reciprocate but Therese stopped her. The pleasure she had felt a few minutes ago disappeared and the blood drained from her face. What was happening between them?
“I you do not want to?”
“Watching you in ectasis was enough for all my senses.”
Carol did not insist and they went to bed. Silence followed them and she did not know if she could stand it any more.
“Tell me what you are thinking about.” She finally begged.
“Richard.”
That simple word crushed Carol to her core. “What? The boy? What has he to do with anything at all?” She very nearly exploded and yelled it, but kept it under control because of the pain compressing her lungs.
“And Ismérie.” Therese kept on without noticing anything, her eyes on the ceiling.
“You've lost me.” Carol sat up in her bed. “But, please, for all that is holy, never tell me you are thinking about a ridiculous boy who was very clearly infatuated with you when we are making love.” Her lungs were getting tighter and tighter.
“Oh no! I am sorry!” Therese's face was white and she came to sit on Carol's bed. “I was just continuing our earlier conversation.”
Carol nodded, she saw where this was going and the pain did not go away, if anything it multiplied. “You would not be scared if you married a man like him, or even him directly.”
“Yes, that thought entered my mind.” She admitted bashfully.
Carol felt a gaping hole where her stomach was supposed to be and her lungs were only a concept now. Yet she would not cry: Therese thought she was the most brave of them all and she would prove her right. She would let her keep this beautiful image of her. “Is this good bye, then?”
Therese grabbed her hand and Carol could not bear it even though all she wanted was to melt against her. She took her hand away. “Yes I am weak I told you as much. I am also thinking of Ismérie, for isn't she exactly what fate has in store for us? Sad old ladies.”
“How would we ever be sad and alone if we were together? I could go through anything at all with you. But only with you. I had never kissed anyone before I saw your lips, I did not even talk to the other girls at school before you. You made me strong, but I see now I did not make you strong.”
Therese's face crumbled and she seemed even a few years older at this moment. “I ran away to Paris with you!”
“ 'Ran away', dear, is that what we are doing?” Carol had never thought to be cruel, especially not to Therese, never, but her broken heart wanted to lash out. “So we are escaping a few months, you fuck the stupid naive girl, and this experience makes you perfect for a husband, is that it? I hope you have learnt a few techniques in bed, you husband, or shall I call him Richard? Is that too soon or not? And your husband will not understand how lucky he is to have a girl like you! Is that it, Therese, am I right?” She ended up, panting and red blotching her skin. She put her head in her hands and willed her tears to go away.
Soft hands touched her hair and she hated herself for the tingles she felt. Was her body not aware that everything was over? But the hands kept caressing her tangled hair and her face and Therese kissed her wherever her skin was uncovered. “I love you.” Carol was baffled because she realized she had never heard Therese say it: she was always the one to instigate it, and Therese had never said it back. Carol thought that the feeling was translated through moments like when Therese said she loved spending time with Carol or that she loved some parts of her body. Or through acts when they kissed or loved each other in the night. Now, though, now she realized maybe she had never said it because she did not mean it.
“You are breaking my heart.” She said eventually, because why was Therese saying it now, except to hurt her?
“Don't. I never said it to anyone before. Not even in a frivolous tone to joke or anything. I never thought I would. You've met my aunt-”
“A charming lady.” Carol could not help adding drily.
At that Therese smiled a bit. “Yes. I never said it to her for obvious reasons. And before you, no one had ever said it to me.”
“That's preposterous!”
Therese looked at Carol and laughed, it was full of mirth and Carol smiled despite her. “This is why I love you, well one of the many, many, many reasons.”
“Do you really?”
“More than anything.” And yes, yes Carol was thinking back to all their moments, their kisses and yes she realized she was right all along and it meant 'I love you' for Therese. This morning she had told her she had never been this happy and yes, Carol was believing her because it echoed her own feelings and how could this be wrong or false.
“I love you so much. But it hurts me that you doubt.”
“I am sorry, I never doubt you or even us. I doubt other people. Ismérie was probably beautiful and kind and in love, and now she is there all alone. People made her like this, society made her like this. But when I think like this, please kiss me and make me forget that other people exist. I don't want a world with anyone but you.”
They kissed sweetly and with the conviction they would be all right after all.
“Now that's settled: I love you, you love me-” Carol stopped herself to giggle a bit, she was so happy. “Why didn't you want me to make you feel good?”
Therese blushed. “Oh. I, well, I am not really I am indisposed.”
Carol instantly worried and she put up her hand on Therese's forehead. “Did you catch a cold?”
She pushed her hand away. “No!” She leaned backward and raised her nightgown. Her face was so red and her eyes averted. Carol saw a blood red stain on her undergarments and she understood after a second of anxiety what that meant.
Oh. That was it? She could not help but laugh, so much, so loud. “That's the first time, isn't it?” Therese nodded, still not looking at her. “Lie down you must hurt all over, especially after our heart to heart. I will rub down your stomach and your back. Come my love.”
Therese answered by a smile. “Yes, my love."