Chapter Text
It was, like most of the poor choices in their relationship, Wanda’s idea.
‘Come on, Aggie, it’s just a bit of fun.’ Wanda whined, her petulance having the opposite effect of her clearly desired outcome. ‘I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.’
Agatha observed her shrewdly. She had the awful feeling this was a trap. One of those relationship ‘tests’ that was all the rage on those TikTok’s Wanda watched in bed while Agatha was trying to sleep.
The premise seemed simple enough; who was your desired hall pass, your one-off wild crush that if the chance arose for you to sleep with, your spouse would have to be okay with it because you agreed so beforehand, and it was unlikely to ever happen.
But the danger lurked beneath the surface, Agatha could tell. She’d heard enough divorce horror stories from old law school friends; they started with an ‘innocent’ what-if-, who would you-, baby just for fun- and before you know it, someone is blowing their deposit for a house on a weekend in Atlantic City with some D-list celebrity and everyone is hiring lawyers to debate custody of the dog.
If you picked someone your spouse deemed hotter than them, they could get jealous. If they thought you were being glib, you were making fun of them and didn’t take them seriously. If you looked too close to home, were you setting yourself up for a technically sanctioned affair that would mire you both in hours of screaming matches and blame shifting? If you were too broad then the scales were out of balance, especially if your spouse picked someone more attainable.
And of course, the person asking nine times out of ten had someone in mind that they likely had an opportunity to cross paths with coming up.
‘I don’t know, hon.’ She took her glasses off and frowned. ‘I don’t want to sleep with anyone else but you.’ She smiled sweetly, hoping to soothe Wanda’s ego and be done with it. Alas, her girlfriend wasn’t deterred.
‘Just for fun, baby. For me?’ She pouted, leaning forward across the couch to grab Agatha’s hand, fingers trailing up her arm seductively. ‘It’s just a game.’
Agatha barely kept her eye roll internal. She played off her sigh as a puff of air as she thought. ‘Gee, I don’t know. I mean, how can I possibly think of anyone else when you’re right here.’
‘Surely there’s someone you’ve always wanted to sleep with. Who was your celebrity crush as a kid?’
‘Long dead before I hit puberty.’ Agatha deadpanned. She really didn’t want to be having this conversation. She loved Wanda, really.
But sometimes she wondered if speedily saying yes to the first girl who asked her out post-partum shouldn’t have been some sort of wake up call to her friends to check on her wellbeing. It’s not like she’d married a stranger on a wild weekend in Vegas, she and Wanda had been friends for a few years before Agatha underwent IVF as an intentional single mother. Wanda had been a pillar of support during her failed first round and the months of pregnancy that followed the second. She’d been an enthusiastic provider of orgasms when the hormones pushed Agatha’s libido through the roof, and somewhere in the haze of sleepless nights, endless diapers and crazy, untapped bliss at having her son, ten fingers and toes with a perfect little nose, in her arms, Agatha couldn’t think of a reason why not to say yes when Wanda asked Agatha on a real date.
Three months into dating, as Nicky reached his six month milestones, Wanda raised the question, interrupting what had previously been a wonderful night in. They’d had a nice dinner, Nicky had gone down easily, and her boobs weren’t achingly full of milk and about to leak milk onto the good bra she’d put on.
Settled on the couch, Agatha had been about to turn on the seductive charm and see if they could take the party upstairs, before Wanda started the ‘fun’ game.
At Agatha’s pause, Wanda frowned a little. ‘Aggie, come on, it’s just a bit of fun.’
‘I know, I know.’ Agatha closed her eyes, tipped her head back on the couch. ‘Let me think, okay? It’s basically a celebrity crush, right? I can muster up one of them.’
Truly, she had her answer immediately. If there was one celebrity that got Agatha moister than an oyster, it was Rio Vidal, frontwoman of Agatha’s favourite band, Coven. Truthfully, Agatha had been a fan of Rio’s since the start of her career, when she was the drummer for Death's Door, a punk band that had gained some traction before inevitably splintering when their label folded.
The drummer had disappeared from public view before bouncing back two years later as Rio had tried a solo career, putting out two EP’s on a genre shift to moody sad girl music, real indie-alt shit with wailing guitar solos and lyrics about Rio’s inner turmoil and heartbreak and the hell of being in your early twenties. It was a good era for her, a real favourite for Agatha as she finished law school.
And then worlds collided, when scrappy musician met nepo baby at the World Music Awards.
As legend went, Alice Wu Gulliver, collecting the posthumous lifetime achievement for her mother, literally bumped into Rio as they both headed to the bathroom to nervous-pee before their respective time-slots. Alice’s recognition of a deep cut unreleased Death’s Door song that had leaked on SoundCloud and Rio’s recollection of Alice’s brief stint posting original music on MySpace as a teenager had turned a funny meeting into the beginning of a beautiful friendship and working relationship.
Their project together, Coven, had proven to be Rio’s strongest work yet. Moving from the drums to frontwoman in the group format, she played bass and held audiences captive with her raspy voice, as Alice co-ordinated their keyboards and synths. The other members of the band tended to rotate as their sound evolved, but they were never the focus like Alice and Rio were.
It wasn’t just that Rio’s music spoke to Agatha on a molecular level, every word pinging her soul like the crazed pop girl fans claimed, though Agatha appreciated the poetry of the lyrics, the interplay between subtle longing and explicit desires as Rio laid out her heart in each line.
It was also the fact that Rio Vidal was one of the sexiest fucking people on the planet, and Agatha was a proud member of the ‘I saw that before everyone else did’ club.
When Death’s Door first came onto the scene, the hot young punk band of 2008, Agatha had seen a blurry picture of their awkward drummer with her glasses and ponytail, and her pussy had simply decided ‘that one’.
-And then she read their first ever interview, in some obscure punk zine she’d tracked down in one Monster fuelled ransacking of every indie music shop in town, and her pussy said ‘yikes- perv alert!’ when she learned the drummer was two months from her nineteenth birthday. Lust was shut away and her admiration remained firmly for the art, not lean biceps.
There wasn’t a world of difference between eighteen and twenty three, at least it hadn’t felt like it when she was the younger one, sneaking into dingy clubs at college, looking for an older woman to wreck her (older, which back then had meant anyone who hadn’t been on campus during orientation week).
But then she hit the cooler side of twenty and suddenly she was the grad student trying not to make eye contact with the fresh faced freshman making eyes at her across the bar. They’d been in high school six months prior, for God’s sake.
So yeah, crush ended on Rio Vidal, now supporting women for their art and not their bodies, was her friend.
Death’s Door had celebrated Rio’s twenty-first birthday by taking her to Vegas where they made headlines smashing up a hotel room. Three weeks later, their label folded and Rio disappeared from public life, the flutter in Agatha’s stomach when she watched the 240p music videos on YouTube long since ignored.
Rio had returned to Agatha’s orbit during her solo career, now twenty three and savvy to the world of record companies and music charts. Gone was the traces of youthful puppy fat, giving way to cheekbones and confidence, an attitude that had evolved from yelling ‘fuck yeah’ into her mic at the end of every song. Rio Vidal had grown into her skin in a way the awkward eighteen year old she had been, hadn’t quite understood how to do.
The first time she saw the ‘new’ Rio, the singer had made a Best/Worst Dressed list in a weekly tabloid for some movie premiere. A cardigan and blue blouse, black leggings tucked into fucking rain boots? She was on the wrong side of that list; in Agatha’s mind, she made it work when no one else could.
And just like that, the door to the fluttery feeling inside was unlocked.
As Rio’s fame grew, her style changed and evolved like her music, and her sense of self publicly shifted, Agatha was there for them all. The emo-esque fringe in her indie girl era, the bangs, the platinum blonde. Her clothes had gone from all black and purposefully torn, to a soft butch vibe.
Leather pants and sleeveless shirts on stage, showing off toned arms and a growing half-sleeve of vines and flowers that Agatha could list chronologically, flannels and jeans (still baggy and a little bit torn) on her days off, suits and dresses that both braved daring cuts on red carpets, dorky sweaters in the studio that were captured on Instagram lives and behind the scenes documentary footage, complete with the same glasses that had pulled Agatha in nearly ten years prior.
So yeah, when Wanda asked, who was Agatha’s celebrity crush, Rio Vidal was kind of dominating the list.
Maybe Rachel Weisz as a runner up, but she was far, far, far below Rio.
Agatha pretended to think, dragging it out to tease Wanda little- stopping when she realised the younger woman was getting legitimately annoyed.
‘Uh, I guess, Rio Vidal?’ She phrased it like a question, like it was actually Wanda’s choice who Agatha picked.
‘Who?’ Wanda’s face wrinkled in confusion. ‘Is she someone you work with?’
Agatha blinked. ‘What? No! Jesus fuck, no. She’s a singer, you know, my favourite band?’
That didn’t help Wanda. ‘Is she the one who had the nip slip at the VMA’s last year?’
‘They literally won Best Album.’
Coven had won with their second album, Coven Two, and it had sparked three days of internet outrage as they beat out the frontrunner, some young pop thing who had emerged out of nowhere with a hit debut and a shit ton of label marketing money behind her.
At Wanda’s increasingly confused look, Agatha sighed, reaching over from the couch to the small shelf of CD’s tucked by the stereo system. She plucked Coven’s debut album, Coven True from where it sat and offered it to Wanda, who studied the photo on the cover.
‘Which one is she?’
Agatha bit back a curse. ‘She’s the one on the left.’
‘Oh.’ Wanda sounded disappointed. ‘The one on the right is pretty cute.’
‘That’s her bandmate, Alice Wu Gulliver.’ Agatha said patiently. Teaching Nicky to read would surely be easier than this.
Wanda’s face brightened at those words. ‘Alice Wu- like Lorna Wu? Oh man, I love her music. I cried for a week when she died.’ She looked at the picture again, scrutinising Agatha’s choice. ‘I mean, I guess Rio looks hot, in a weird, broody kind of way.’ She looked back to Agatha. ‘That’s your pick? Of everyone in the world, that’s your choice for a hall pass?’
The urge to scream had never been so strong, but Agatha refrained. ‘What does it matter, it’s just a game, right? There are worse people to kiss.’
Wanda hummed, clearly let down by Agatha’s choice. ‘Sure.’
The silence was awkward for a moment before Agatha cleared her throat. ‘So who’s your pick? They have to be pretty hot to beat me.’
Wanda blushed. ‘I mean, I think he’s pretty great.’
‘Go on,’ Agatha nudged her ribs encouragingly. Just because she was a lesbian with an unrelated disdain for men, didn’t mean she couldn’t support women who liked them. Some of her best friends were bisexual. Well. Least hated colleagues. And their bisexuality had nothing to do with her opinion of them.
Wanda ducked her head. ‘Okay, well he’s a pretty important guy, I’ve got no chance of ever, you know, having a chance. You’ll laugh.’
‘That’s the point of the game though, isn’t it? Pick someone you would never normally have a chance with, so if the opportunity arose, I couldn’t be mad.’ Agatha touched her arm. ‘I promise I won’t laugh.’
Wanda took a steadying breath. ‘Professor Vision.’
Agatha had no fucking clue who that was. ‘Is he like the Sokovian Bill Nye?’
‘Who?’ They seemed equally confused.
‘He’s a TV presenter for- nevermind.’ Agatha waved the thought away. ‘Who is Professor Vision?’
Wanda’s blush deepened. ‘He’s like a god in the academic community, he’s so multi-talented. He’s written so many papers on quantum physics, ethics, poetry- pretty much everything.’
‘What, did he write the paper that cinched your thesis on feminist interpretations of Sokovian folklore?’
Wanda shook her head. ‘He’s actually never written a paper on gender studies.’
‘Fascinating.’ Not. ‘So, why him? Bit of a difference between A-list celebrity and some guy who nerds out for a living.’
‘He wouldn’t bother himself with a phD candidate like me.’
She sounded so forlorn, like a lovesick teenager, Agatha wanted to laugh. What the fuck was this conversation anyway. Previous mishaps had told her though, that sort of dismissiveness was hurtful, and would ruin all chances of their evening turning orgasmic. So, with a smile that was only a little forced, she tried a placating, ‘Hey, that’s my girlfriend you’re talking about.’
The blatant saccharine attempt worked, somehow, and Wanda blushed, ducking her head with a muttered, ‘Shut up’.
Still, it gave Agatha the opening she needed to change the subject. She cupped Wanda’s face, tipping it up gently to catch Wanda’s eye. She smiled in what she hoped came across as supportive, relieved when Wanda gave her a soft smile of her own. Pressing a kiss to her lips, Agatha tried to convey in one small motion how much Wanda did actually mean to her; more than any silly Internet game could ruin with trick questions and second guessing.
‘That’s enough talking anyone about hypothetically fucking someone else for one night; I know someone you can fuck right now.’ She murmured against Wanda’s lips, eliciting the exact reaction she wanted. Wanda laughed, a small gasp escaping when Agatha used the opportunity to kiss her jawline, kissing down her neck to the collar of her shirt. She fell back against the couch cushions as Agatha climbed atop her. She took a moment to retrieve the forgotten CD case, leaning over and stowing it carefully back on the shelf before turning back to Wanda and pulling her own shirt off.
‘Now,’ she said, relishing her girlfriend’s eyes on her. ‘Where were we?’
Agatha understood Wanda’s urgency for Agatha to pick a hall pass pretty soon thereafter when not even two weeks later Westview University announced their new dean would be esteemed academic Professor Vision. Wanda’s participation in university events suddenly grew and she had less time to help Agatha with Nicky.
It seemed easy to forgive when Wanda surprised Agatha on their six month anniversary with a romantic dinner and a proposal. Again, surely a desperate call for a check-in from her friends when Agatha’s post-partum haze led her to say yes- and then yes again to the idea of a courthouse wedding, ‘just to get the legal bit done’, as soon as possible, citing their several years of friendship prior as why they didn’t need to waste time on a long engagement.
Nothing to do with the mountain of student loans Wanda’s academic career was requiring, and Agatha’s sizable bank account.
Jen was lucky she was facing a heavy lawsuit, else Agatha would have been pissed she didn’t have anything to say about the way that all went down.
They'd been married all of one month when Wanda’s drunken texts from the faculty Christmas party ceased at 10pm- a pause in the relentless buzzing of Agatha’s phone that relieved her until midnight when Wanda had promised to be home. She'd answered Agatha’s worried texts at 1am with a thumbs up emoji, scratching the lock with her attempts to open the door when she finally made it home close to 2am.
She'd met Agatha’s worried hovering at the front door with a giggling stagger towards her, shouting ‘Hall pass!’ as she wrapped her arms around Agatha, nuzzling into her neck.
‘Mm, you smell good.’
‘And you smell like a distillery.’ Agatha peeled her off carefully, glancing upstairs. Nicky had been sleep regressing and she didn’t want him to wake up and ruin all her hard work putting him to bed.
‘You're not mad about my hall pass, are you?’ Wanda hiccuped as Agatha steered her into the living room, where she could shut the door and dampen the noise.
‘Your what?’ Agatha was too focused on making sure Wanda didn’t trip in her heels to register her words.
‘My hall pass, you know, who I can sleep with without you being mad.’ Wanda booped her nose. ‘You agreed to it so you can't be mad.’
‘I- wait, what?’ Agatha shook her head, guiding Wanda to sit down on the couch, crouching to take her heels off her. ‘You slept with someone?’
‘My hall pass.’ Wanda said again, like that explained everything.
‘Your hall pass.’ Agatha repeated the phrase dumbly. She slowly removed one of Wanda’s heels as she tried to recall what the fuck Wanda was on about. ‘You slept with your boss? One month after we got married and you slept with your fucking boss?’ She hissed the words, dropping Wanda’s foot with a muted thud onto the carpet.
‘Not cheating. Hall pass,’ Wanda reminded her smugly. ‘And it was just hand stuff, that's not even cheating even if it wasn't okay.’
‘It isn't okay, Wanda.’ Agatha hissed again, the anger in her tone hiding the sob that wanted to spill out. Fucking hell, was she so unlovable that her own wife fucking cheated on her at the first chance? Wanda, who knew Agatha better than most, who had seen her at her lowest, who had chosen her and Nicky from the start- and she had looked elsewhere. The premeditation stung the most. ‘Never have a chance with him, my ass. You set up that stupid game, you picked someone you knew you'd cross paths with, you-’
Her building tirade was cut short by a soft snore. Wanda was asleep. Head thrown back on the couch cushions like she hadn't shattered Agatha’s world.
Agatha lay awake all night, too upset for tears.
In the morning, after practicing everything she wanted to say as she got Nicky up for the day, she got ready to confront Wanda. But damn her, the redhead was ready for her.
‘Baby, I am so sorry.’ Green eyes met hers pleadingly. Agatha turned away slightly as Wanda reached out for her, the drooling baby in her arms a good buffer between them. Wanda’s hand recoiled as a damp hand waved in her direction, complete with a babble Agatha was sure meant ‘good morning’ in Nicky-speak. ‘I should have checked in before I did anything. I was drinking, and he was so interested in my thesis, and I just- I got carried away.’
Hardly the apology of the year. But the brimming tears tugged at Agatha’s heart and the fucking hormones and that nagging voice in her head that sounded a lot like her mother saying she’d never find anyone else, she’d done IVF solo for a reason as is- well, screw her, she forgave Wanda.
Maybe ‘forgave’ was the wrong word. She didn’t openly hold it against Wanda, but goddamn did she not forget.
Her Christmas gift to Jen that year was a ticket to see Coven in March, at the Westview Ballroom, a converted theatre from the town's boom days in the post-war factory period, as the band celebrated their third album, Glory Shall Be Thine. Coincidentally in pure (explicitly agreed upon) happenstance, Jen had got Agatha a ticket to see Coven too. Crazy, that.
Agatha’s neighbour Mrs Hart volunteered to babysit the now fourteen month old Nicky, when Wanda begged off, claiming a hard, fast approaching deadline regarding her PhD. That her thesis was now being personally overseen by the Dean of the university was surely a coincidence and certainly not a huge breach of ethics and sanity, given his complete lack of expertise in her field. But what would Agatha know, it’s not like she had a masters in law and more than two brain cells to rub together. She heard what Wanda said and nodded in concern.
‘You work too hard, hon. Hopefully he doesn’t ride you too hard about it.’
The stab in her chest was worth the sight of Wanda choking hard on her sip of wine.
The concert was incredible; not that they expected anything less.
They had bought front row seats in the balcony, neither of them wanting to fight the twenty year olds full of blood lust and a made up honour system of numbers on their hands in easily mimicked Sharpie. They were there to hear good music live, ogle two hot ladies, and get a little buzzed on one expensive venue drink and then a lot drunk on the flasks both had smuggled in. Maybe some dancing afterwards, and greasy hole-in-the-wall pizza. Reclaim their youth and all that.
By mutual agreement, neither said anything about how classy (slutty) they were dressed. Black skirts of a short nature and a shirt to show off the goods. Jen’s was a brilliant hot pink, not that she needed to be anymore eye-catching, the woman was a goddess Agatha could either hate or love with all her heart, and no matter how annoying she got, freshman orientation Agatha had decided they were friends for life, no take-backsies. Agatha herself had gone for a more understated purple, so deep it could be mistaken for black in the lowlights of the venue and the club afterwards. The neckline plunged, her hemline was high, she was doing the opposite every nun in high school had said she should do. Good.
They sang their hearts out along with Coven’s most popular songs, they held their phone flashlights above their heads during Rio’s emotional ballads, clinging onto each other like a life raft, and when the band broke for a little patter with the crowd to signify a mood change, they wasted no time in helping the other free their bra from the shirt to throw down as Alice and Rio joked on-stage about how Rio got shy about singing their more sexual songs in front of so many beautiful women. Competitiveness was a common trait, and both of them made sure to aim true as they flung the lace fabric down.
It was a bullseye for both.
Rio got pelted right in the face with Agatha’s.
Alice saw the flying object in her periphery, and caught it one handed, without even faltering in the story she was telling, an embarrassing anecdote about Rio striking out with a girl.
Agatha didn’t believe a word of it, how could someone see Rio and not want to climb her like a tree? Hadn't they seen her 2019 naked photoshoot for charity, where every delicious inch of her was displayed, but any risque elements tastefully covered by oversized plants, kitchen items and, in Agatha’s very favourite picture, a fireman’s hose?
Regardless of Agatha’s faith in women’s taste, Alice caught Jen’s bra out of the air like a pro, not even blinking until she looked at it properly as the audience screamed.
‘Holy shit, this is like, for real, expensive.’ Alice held it up. ‘Do you want it back?’
As Jen screamed, ‘fuck yes’, trying to be heard over the raucous crowd, Agatha’s focus was kept on Rio, who was holding her bra in stunned bemusement.
‘Alice, I’d love for you to Cinderella this shit with your balcony girl and her bra, but I just gotta say, whoever threw this one,’ Rio held it aloft. ‘She had a game plan, and I respect it. There’s a note in here, look,’ Rio showed it to an amused Alice. They didn’t share the contents of the note with the crowd, who filled the silence with cheers nonetheless.
‘Dude, you gotta.’ The mic picked up Alice as they discussed things in hushed tones. Jen side-eyed Agatha.
‘Do I even want to know what’s in that note?’
Agatha shrugged. ‘If you want to know all the depraved things I’d let Rio do to my body, just read my Tumblr.’
Jen snorted. ‘I thought you abandoned that thing years ago.’
A wicked grin went her way. ‘The porn ban may have stopped the tit pics, but it hasn’t stopped the need for lesbian erotica.’
Onstage, Alice clapped Rio on the back, stepping closer to the mic.
‘To the women who threw their bras, thank you, I hope you aren’t expecting them back. My friend here has something she’d like to say.’
Rio looked like she was blushing, head ducking a little as she leaned towards her microphone.
‘To answer your questions,’ she paused as the crowd screamed. Agatha leaned forwards as if it would make any difference to hearing what Rio would say through the speakers. ‘My answer is, I’m flattered you’ve thought about it that much, yes, no, green, and I guess you’ll have to find out for yourself.’
The audience screamed louder, and Agatha leaned back, very satisfied with those answers.
Jen laughed, slightly concerned. ‘What the hell was that note, Agatha?’
Agatha shimmied her shoulders, looking smug as fuck. She didn’t answer, locking in as the band got ready to start the next song. Rio, still looking a little embarased, looked hot as fuck with her bass guitar as she signalled to the crew she ready to go. Agatha’s bra was tucked into her belt, hanging down her leg like a purposeful fashion choice.
‘Agatha, what did you ask?’
‘Okay, Westview, it’s time to get a little dirty,’ Rio’s voice echoed through the speakers. Jen’s words were lost in the horde of screaming horny lesbians, but it didn’t take a genius to read her lips.
‘Agatha-’
‘This next one is called ‘Slow Down, My Love’. I’m gonna dedicate it to the owner of the purple bra.’
Agatha grabbed Jen’s arm with clawed fingers in excitement, her other hand going to her lips to wolf-whistle down at her. This was one of her favourite songs. The bass line that absolutely throbbed like Agatha’s pussy did when Rio sang innuendo filled lyrics about taking her time with her lover.
As the whistle pierced the air, Rio looked up in their direction. She probably couldn’t see them, but it felt like she was staring right at Agatha. Impulsively, Agatha reached down to the hem of her shirt.
It was Jen’s turn to grab her arm. As fun as it would be to flash the band, it would likely be a wasted effort, and given her recent legal issues, Jen was reluctant to get into trouble for the public indecency risk.
Agatha mouthed ‘spoilsport’ at her, sticking her tongue out petulantly with a wink, before focusing back on the stage as the opening notes played.
Best Christmas gift ever.
They hit the club afterwards. Mrs Hart had Nicky until the morning, had told Agatha to enjoy herself with a firmness that was surprising to come from the older woman.
‘You haven’t had a real night out since he was born, have you?’ She’d asked when Agatha had enquired if she could take Nicky. ‘And I see your wife coming and going at all hours. I know it’s not my business, Agatha, but I think it’s important every mother hears this; you matter too.’
The sincerity in her tone had thrown Agatha a little. Mrs Hart had readily agreed to follow all of Nicky’s night time routine, had sent Agatha periodic, unprompted, texts updating her on his mood, punctuated with an obscene amount of heart emoji’s, though she understood the sentiment- it’s how her body felt whenever she thought about her son.
Westview’s nightlife wasn’t exactly the most diverse scene, they did have a club that prided itself on being female focused [read: bachelorette parties and lesbians]. Agatha and Jen hadn’t frequented the place often since hitting their thirties, but they’d been regulars enough in the past that the handsome butch bouncer still greeted them by name as they approached the line building up down the street as pretty much every lesbian from the concert tried to keep the party going. Said lesbians didn’t even grumble at Agatha and Jen cutting the whole line, instead ogling them.
They made their way to the backroom of the club, past experience telling them it would be the emptier part of the club for a while as people prioritised getting a drink as soon as they entered and forgetting there was another bar. Vodka tonics in hand, they sipped slowly, grooving along to the steady pulse of music as the room filled around them. Jen kept her head on an elegant swivel, looking for someone to catch her eye. Agatha was content to remember her marriage vows and play wing-woman, though if anyone was bold enough to seriously vie for her attention, she’d indulge in a little flirting. Just a smidgeon. As a reward for their efforts.
She was enjoying herself, lost in the rhythm of music, the freedom of not being a wife and mother in that moment, merely another body on the dance floor (and okay yes, the second vodka tonic had hit a little hard on top of all the hip flask liquor)- when Jen’s hand gripped her forearm tight, nails digging in. Agatha glared at her, but Jen just rolled her eyes, tipping her head somewhere behind Agatha.
Rolling her own eyes petulantly, Agatha turned, looking in the dimly lit room to see what had grabbed Jen’s attention. When she saw it, she gasped, grabbing Jen’s arm exactly as she had.
It wasn’t the mini L-Word drama kicking off by the hall to the bathrooms, two rival polycules looking like they were about to duke it out, it wasn’t the couple two seconds away from fingerbanging on the dance floor- it was, perfectly framed in the parted crowd, Alice Wu-Gulliver and Rio fricking Vidal, walking into the backroom of their favourite lesbian club.
If Agatha had thought they’d looked good at the concert, all sweaty and styled, then those looks had nothing on the sight of them as they looked around the room. Alice’s style was more lowkey than her on-stage persona, the flowing white shirt and patterned vest swapped out now for a much less conspicuous corset top and tight trousers. Rio similarly had ditched the ripped jeans and loose tank top that had flooded Agatha’s panties earlier for an outfit that positively drenched them. Leather jacket, clearly worn in and thus supple on her body, over a black t-shirt and jeans.
As Rio looked around the room, her eyes met Agatha’s across the blissfully not yet filled space. Agatha didn’t believe in a higher deity, and she was pretty ambivalent on the concept of love at first sight.
But holy fuck, the pure electricity that coursed through her body as Rio Vidal, star of many a masturbatory fantasy, fucking winked at her across the dance floor? That felt pretty celestial.
She kept her eyes on Rio’s until the rockstar turned away, spinning to face Jen, fingers gripping her arm like a vice.
Leaning into Jen’s ear, she raised her voice to be heard above the music. ‘Remember Wanda’s stupid hall pass?’
Jen screwed up her face in disgusted recognition. ‘That bullshit piece of shit-
‘I think it’s time I cash in mine.’ She pulled back, eyebrows raised and a devious smirk Jen recognised all too well on her lips. Jen tipped her head back and laughed.
‘Yes, girl!’ she shouted, high-fiving Agatha so hard their hands stung.
Retreating to the bar where the music blasted a marginally quieter, they quickly made their game plan as they waited for the bartender to stop flirting with the college girls at the other end of the bar.
Of course, Agatha wasn’t going to be one of those weirdo fans who basically stalked a celebrity all night, hunted them down like prey and then bragged about bedding them after. She would treat Rio exactly like she’d treat any hot woman she intended to fuck; with calculated precision and with a lot of luck. And cleavage. Could not forget to include the cleavage.
Jen was just giving her the thumbs up on how perfectly on show the gals were, when a voice oh so familiar to her crooned in her ear.
‘Can we buy you ladies a drink?’
Fuck. Agatha’s panties were well and truly flooded, as the rich timbre of Rio Vidal’s voice vibrated against Agatha’s ear. She schooled her features and turned slowly, a smirk fixing into place as she made a show of looking the celebrity up and down.
‘I don’t know, can you?’ She arched a brow, relishing the way Rio’s cheeks darkened a little in the club lights.
Rio just grinned, the dimple on her cheek popping. She caught the eye of the bartender, who was clearly lurking after recognising the musicians, and gestured, two vodka tonics quickly landing in front of the Agatha and Jen. They glanced at each other, eyebrows raised, trying not to look too smug with how well things were turning out. Alice and Rio quickly grabbed their own drinks, and with a chivalrous sweep of her arm, Rio silently questioned if they’d like to join them outside.
They did, making their way outside to the smoking area tucked to the back of the building. Jen and Agatha leaned against the back wall, their more famous new friends remaining with their backs to the crowd. With a practiced ease, Rio handed her beer to Alice, then took out a pack of cigarettes, putting two in her mouth as Alice lit them with a lighter that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Once lit, Alice plucked her cigarette from Rio’s lips, Rio taking her beer bottle from Alice’s one-handed claw grip.
‘So,’ Alice shot Jen a charming grin. ‘You ladies come here often?’
Jen snorted, swatting at Alice’s shoulder, her hand lingering on her bicep. ‘God, has that line ever worked on a girl?’
Rio shrugged. ‘Honestly? No. Alice came close once, but then her friend got offended, thought Alice was calling them alcoholics. Turns out, they were celebrating her thirty days of sobriety.’
‘Wait, they were celebrating being sober, in a club?’ Jen frowned.
Alice nodded, glaring at Rio.
Agatha couldn’t help but chime in. ‘I don’t know how anybody does this sober.’ She waited until Rio caught her eye before taking a slow sip of her drink. Rio, eyes dark, gulped a little as Agatha pulled her glass from her lips with a satisfied ‘ahh’.
‘All power to them, honestly, I wish I’d had their willpower,’ Alice picked up the story. ‘I tried to apologise, but her friend didn’t want to hear it, and then she threw a drink at me and well-’
‘We got kicked out for fighting and nobody would pick us up,’ Rio said, throwing an arm over Alice’s shoulder, cigarette barely missing her hair. ‘We had to walk two miles down what was basically a highway to get back to our hotel.’
‘When was this?’
The rockstars looked at each other, calculating their response.
‘Two weeks ago?’ Was their sheepish answer.
Agatha snorted, hiding it behind her hand unsuccessfully. ‘I bet you’re glad that didn’t go viral. Rockstar strikes out; night ends sticky probably isn’t the headline you want.’
They blinked at her.
‘Wait, you guys know-?’
Jen laughed again, taking the cigarette from Alice’s fingertips. ‘Dude, we were at the concert. Her big lesbian crush on you has been a part of her as long as I’ve known her. That’s the only reason Miss Domestic over here came out tonight. I don’t think I could have dragged her away from diaper changes and tummy time otherwise.’
Internally, Agatha groaned. Fuckssake Jen, you blew it. Externally, she kicked Jen in the ankle, and smiled sweetly at Rio, whose stunned awkwardness was now looking a little wary. Alice, side-eyeing them, took a step to the side, pulling a slightly remorseful Jen’s attention with her.
‘Oh, you’re-’
‘A mom? Yeah.’ She shook her head, tossing her hair over her shoulder in the time-proven way that drew eyes to her tits. Also it had the benefit of adding to the confident surety of her answer. ‘But you can call me a MILF.’
The gambit worked, as Rio relaxed, chuckling, eyes darting between her chest and face. Got ‘em.
‘And should I be worried about a cuckolded co-parent coming after me for emotional distress?’ She held a hand to her chest, flicking ash off the cigarette as she did. ‘Because I have to say, the tabloids lied, my net-worth is only eight million, not ten. How will I afford my next yacht?’
Agatha tipped her head back and laughed. ‘Trust me, no one will be coming after you. Well,’ she tilted her head, coyly. ‘If you’re half as good as you sing about being, I’d hope I’d be coming before, with, and after you.’
Rio coughed on her beer. Spluttering, she put her beer on a nearby ledge, focusing on getting oxygen back into her lungs, before she stood up and took a long drag of the cigarette. Her eyes half-closed as she blew it out, she regarded Agatha with the look Agatha had seen in countless photoshoots and music videos, an edge to it now that had been lacking in all those staged moments. Desire.
‘You’re something else, you know that?’
Putting her own drink aside, Agatha stepped into Rio’s space, grabbing Rio’s hand and bringing the cigarette to her own lips. ‘I’ve heard it a time or two, sure.’ Eyes locked, she wrapped her lips around it, taking her time, holding the smoke for two, three, four seconds. Then, with a slow exhale, she blew the smoke through her lips. The slight height difference had her looking up into Rio’s face, the smoke dissipating in the night air just before it reached Rio. Still, the musician held her breath, looking down at Agatha with a hunger that made her shiver.
They stayed there for a moment, passing the cigarette between them before Rio’s face morphed into something real fucking smug. ‘You have a crush on me?’
Agatha rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t get a big head, I said you were the celebrity I’d like to fuck most.’ She’d also said she wanted Rio to fuck a baby into her and if she’d asked Agatha would become a groupie and just be a very willing set of holes for her. Agatha had said a lot of things over the years, most of them while drunk. Sure, all of it was true in some form, but that wasn’t the point.
Inside, the song changed to something new, a whispering voice asking to trust her, the tempo something promising filthy from the offset, the beat low and throbbing- and it wasn’t the only thing. As Jen screamed ‘Oh my God, I love this song!’, Rio looked at Agatha, elbow held up in front of her, her other hand stubbing out the cigarette and dropping it into the battered can that made up the ash-tray.
‘May I have this dance?’
She would deny the blush that she felt warm her cheeks, but Agatha happily took Rio’s arm, looping her own through it as they followed Alice and Jen back into the club.
This had to be heaven. Her back pressed to Rio’s front, the singer’s hands staying firm on her hips as they moved to the music. The chorus of the song, a repeated refrain of ‘I’m what you need’, felt like it was the mutual signal Agatha and Rio were sending to the other, their bodies in sync as they pressed close, hips moving in a barely decent motion.
A few feet away, Alice and Jen were getting similarly acquainted, foreheads resting against each other as their bodies pressed together.
As the singer buried her nose into the mess of hair at the base of Agatha’s neck, Agatha grabbed one of her hands, twisting her head so Rio could hear her over the blasting music.
‘I have a question for you.’
‘Oh yeah?’
She dragged Rio’s hand under her shirt, pushing it up to feel her bare breast. ‘Can I have my bra back?’
She felt Rio’s body jerk in surprise, squeezing her tit as she did. She bit back a moan as she watched Rio rear back in surprise, her eyes darting over Agatha’s face, down to where their joined hands still held Agatha’s breast, back to her face. She tried to let go, but Agatha held her hand so it stayed where it was.
When Rio didn’t move, Agatha started to recite the part of the note that Rio hadn’t shared with the theatre full of concert go-ers. Namely, the part where she listed every depraved thing she’d be willing to do if she and the singer ever happened to meet.
‘That was-?’ Rio’s face morphed into unrestrained joy. With the hand still on Agatha’s hip she pulled their bodies even closer, bringing her head back to talk directly into Agatha’s ear. ‘Do you know,’ she said, each word tingling Agatha’s body with warm breath. ‘That note read like my checklist for the perfect woman?’
Her hands squeezed, deliberately this time, and Agatha moaned, grinding back against Rio’s body. ‘That’s funny. I was going to say the same thing.’
Rio chuckled, the sound vibrating through Agatha’s ear, all the way to her clit. ‘I think we’ve said enough now.’ Her hand slipped out from Agatha’s shirt, bringing Agatha’s with it. Expertly, she grabbed Agatha’s other, and in one fluid motion twirled her round til they were face to face.
‘How ‘bout we get out of here?’ Her lips came within brushing distance of Agatha’s, pulling away slightly as Agatha moved in for a kiss.
Holding back a groan of frustration, Agatha smiled sweetly. ‘Sure thing. Just let me text my wife.’