Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Carla hesitated at the door for a moment before she stepped inside. The office was warmer than she expected, cozy even, with shelves of books and soft light that made the space feel almost safe. She took in the details quickly, anything to steady her nerves, before her eyes landed on the woman waiting for her.

“Carla? I’m Dr. Swain, but you can call me Lisa,” the therapist said, offering a small welcoming smile. Her voice was calm in a way that made Carla’s shoulders loosen, even if just slightly.

Carla managed a polite smile as she sat down across from her. For someone usually in control, this felt unfamiliar—exposing. She ran her hand along her pant leg, searching for something to do with the restless energy buzzing under her skin.

Lisa explained the usual things—confidentiality, structure, how their sessions would work. Carla nodded, though she wasn’t really listening. She was too aware of Lisa’s presence, of the steadiness in her tone, of how rare it felt to sit across from someone who looked as though they genuinely wanted to understand.

When the question finally came—What brought you here?—Carla let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“I don’t know when to stop giving,” she admitted, her voice softer than she intended. “To people, to work, to everything. I’ll push myself until I’m empty, and then I wonder why no one notices. Why no one… comes back to fill me up.” She gave a bitter little laugh, shaking her head. “It sounds pathetic when I say it out loud.”

Lisa leaned in slightly, her expression careful but gentle. “It doesn’t sound pathetic. It sounds human. And very hard.”

The word hard caught something in Carla. She hadn’t wanted pity, but Lisa’s tone didn’t carry pity—it carried understanding. That difference mattered.

Carla crossed her legs, then uncrossed them again. Her eyes lingered on the window before flicking back to Lisa. “It’s… hard to explain. I guess I’ve been feeling stuck. Like I’m moving through my life, but it doesn’t really feel like mine anymore.”

“Stuck how?” Lisa asked softly.

Carla hesitated. “I used to be really driven. I had plans, goals. But lately it’s like I can’t finish anything I start. At work, I’m doing the bare minimum. At home…” she trailed off, biting her lip. “Home feels empty, even when I’m there.”

Lisa nodded, jotting down a few notes. “That sounds exhausting. When you say ‘empty,’ what do you mean?”

Carla let out a small, humorless laugh. “I mean I go home, close the door, and it’s quiet. Too quiet. I think about calling friends, but it feels like I’m intruding on their lives. I end up just scrolling on my phone until I fall asleep.”

Something about the vulnerability in her voice pulled at Lisa. She wasn’t supposed to notice how Carla’s eyes glistened when she admitted the loneliness, wasn’t supposed to feel that tug of empathy that edged toward something more personal. Still, she kept her tone steady.

“Sounds like you’ve been carrying this for a while,” Lisa said.

Carla gave a small nod. “Years, maybe. I always thought I’d… snap out of it. That I’d find the spark again. But it just gets heavier.”

Lisa leaned forward slightly, her voice quiet but deliberate. “You’re not alone in that. And you don’t have to figure it all out by yourself anymore.”

Carla looked at her then, really looked, and for the first time since she entered the office, her shoulders softened. “That’s… nice to hear. Honestly, admitting this out loud is terrifying. I don’t want to sound broken.”

“You’re not broken,” Lisa replied before she could stop herself. Her words hung in the air, warmer than she intended. She quickly softened the edges. “You’re human. And being human means struggling sometimes.”

Carla’s lips curved into the faintest smile, almost grateful. “Thanks. I think that’s what I needed to hear.”

For a moment, Lisa let the silence linger. Watching Carla there—open, vulnerable—stirred something uncomfortably familiar in her chest. She knew loneliness too, though she never said it aloud. She felt it in the quiet of her own apartment, in the long nights when her phone stayed stubbornly still. And though she would never confess it to a client, the way Carla described that hollow quiet at home struck closer than Lisa wanted to admit.

She cleared her throat softly, her tone steady but tinged with curiosity. “Do you have someone at home? A partner, maybe?”

Carla’s gaze flicked up, surprised by the question, and then dropped to her hands, folded in her lap. “No,” she said, voice low. “Not anymore. It’s just me now.”

Something in the room shifted with her answer. Lisa caught it—the faint edge of longing in Carla’s tone, the vulnerability threaded through the simple admission. She nodded gently, keeping her expression neutral, though inside, she felt an unexpected jolt of recognition.

“It can feel heavier when you’re carrying things alone,” Lisa offered.

Carla’s eyes lingered on her a little too long before she nodded. “Yeah. Exactly.”

For the rest of the hour, Lisa asked questions that made Carla think more deeply than she expected. There were pauses, silences that should have been uncomfortable but weren’t.

She left the office with a polite thank you, pulling her coat tighter as she stepped into the evening air. But her mind stayed in that room, circling back to Lisa’s steady eyes and the way her words seemed to land exactly where they needed to.

Lisa, alone after Carla left, closed her notebook and sat back. She told herself the unease in her chest was the usual echo of empathy after a first session. That it was nothing more than the work. Still, the way Carla had looked at her—like she was relieved and guarded all at once.

Chapter Text

Lisa adjusted the cushions on her chair before Carla walked in.

Carla entered a little more settled than before, though still carrying that air of hesitation, as though she wasn’t sure if she belonged here.

“Hi, Carla,” Lisa said warmly. “How have you been since last time?”

Carla sank into the couch, smoothing her sleeve. “It’s been… better, maybe. I’ve been thinking about what you said. About not being broken. It stuck with me.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Lisa smiled softly. “Sometimes words can echo when we need them most. What’s been on your mind this week?”

Carla hesitated, biting her lip. “Michelle. A lot, actually. I wasn’t expecting her name to keep coming back up, but… it has.”

Lisa leaned forward slightly, keeping her tone gentle. “Michelle. You mentioned her last session—someone who mattered to you?”

Carla nodded. “Yeah. She was… well, she was my best friend, I guess. At least for a while. We met through my ex husband, she was his sister and she had this… I don’t know, this energy. She made me feel like I could breathe. Like I could be someone more than the quiet girl who always kept her head down.”

Lisa felt a flicker of curiosity she quickly tried to smother. “It sounds like she brought out a different side of you. That’s powerful.”

“Yeah,” Carla whispered, almost to herself. “It was.”

Lisa hesitated before asking, her therapist voice battling with her personal intrigue. “Was she… more than a friend to you?”

Carla blinked, her mouth parting in surprise. “More than—? No! I mean… well, no. She wasn’t. I never thought of it like that.”

The flush that spread across her cheeks betrayed her calm denial.

Lisa quickly softened her tone, backpedaling just enough. “I only ask because sometimes relationships blur in complicated ways, especially when there’s deep connection. It doesn’t have to mean anything more than closeness. I just wanted to fully understand, Carla”

Carla’s hand flew to the back of her neck, rubbing nervously. “Right, closeness. That’s what it was. Just closeness. I mean—” She stumbled over her words, then let out a shaky laugh. “God, I’ve never even thought about… women. That way. So it’s… no. No, it couldn’t be that.”

Lisa watched her carefully. “It’s okay, Carla. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I only wanted to understand what Michelle meant to you.”

Carla exhaled, half-relieved, half-flustered. “You didn’t—well, maybe a little. I just… now I’m questioning everything. Was I too attached? Was it weird that I thought about her so much? That she was the first person I’d call when anything happened?”

Lisa tilted her head gently. “Needing someone deeply isn’t weird. It’s human. Whether it’s friendship, love, or something else, the bond matters more than the label.”

Carla let the words sink in, her mind spinning. “You make it sound so simple. But now I feel like I have to reevaluate half my twenties. What if I was… what if there was something more, and I just ignored it? What if that’s why I feel so… lost now?”

Lisa kept her voice calm, but inside she felt that familiar pull—the instinct to reach across the space, to reassure too much. “Exploring those questions doesn’t mean rewriting who you are. It just means being honest with yourself about what mattered, and why.

Carla, I think if I took you off guard like I did, I don’t think you were harbouring any feelings for Michelle”

Carla shifted, eyes darting away. “God. I can’t believe I’m even entertaining this. Michelle would laugh her head off if she knew I was sitting in therapy wondering if I had some kind of… I don’t know… crush on her.”

Lisa smiled. “She sounds like a good friend, Carla. I think you miss her company and having someone to lean on without the expectations. It’s completely normal”

Carla hugged a cushion to her chest, feeling both exposed and oddly seen.

Carla’s laugh was short, breathless. “Therapy was supposed to help me feel less lost, not more confused.”

Lisa looked at her in thought. What did Carla mean by this? What was she still questioning in her head. “Sometimes confusion is the first step toward clarity,” Lisa replied.

Their eyes met, and for a beat too long, the silence between them pulsed.

Lisa glanced at the clock, then back at Carla. “We’re almost out of time for today,” she said softly. “Before you go, I’d like you to try something at home this week—something just for you.”

Carla raised an eyebrow. “Like… binge-watching Netflix by myself? Because I do that all the time.”

Lisa chuckled lightly, shaking her head. “No, I mean really focus on yourself. Give yourself a night where you do what you love, without distraction. Cook a meal you enjoy, have a drink if you like, light a candle, take a bath—whatever makes you feel cared for. A night as if it was planned by someone else.”

Carla shifted, curious despite herself. “Okay… that sounds kind of nice, actually. But is that really… therapy homework?”

“It is,” Lisa replied with a faint smile. “Sometimes self-care is the most important reflection we can do. You don’t need to analyze anything tonight—just experience it and notice how you feel.”

Carla hesitated, then, on impulse, asked, “What… what about you? What do you like to do to relax?”

Lisa’s eyes flickered, a quick shadow crossing her face. She caught herself before answering. “That’s a personal question,” she said lightly, deflecting with a smile. “For now, I want you to focus on you. What you love, what makes you feel cared for.”

Carla’s cheeks warmed as she realized she’d crossed a line. “Right… yeah, sorry. That was… probably not appropriate.”

“No, it’s fine,” Lisa said, her voice soft, maintaining professionalism but with a hint of warmth that lingered in the air. “Curiosity is natural, and I appreciate your openness. But tonight, I want you to dedicate the time to yourself. Really put yourself first.”

Carla laughed nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Okay… pampering myself with purpose.”

“Exactly,” Lisa said. “Consider it a small experiment in honoring yourself. And if you feel like sharing how it went next session, we can explore what came up for you.”

Carla nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Alright… I’ll do it. No pressure, right?”

“No pressure,” Lisa confirmed, her voice calm, but inside, a tiny, unspoken tug of curiosity lingered. She wondered what Carla would choose, how she’d react, and felt a strange flutter of anticipation she quickly tucked away behind her professional composure.

“I’ll see you next week.”

Carla stood, gathering her things. “Thanks, Lisa… for today. Really.”

Lisa nodded, offering a steady, professional smile. “You’re welcome, Carla. Take care of yourself tonight. Really take care of yourself.”

As Carla left, Lisa exhaled, letting the quiet settle around her. The office felt emptier now, but Carla’s tentative question, the warmth in her eyes, and the subtle vulnerability she’d glimpsed lingered, pulling at Lisa’s thoughts in a way she didn’t acknowledge aloud. She shook her head lightly, forcing herself to focus on her notes.

Chapter Text

Carla stepped into her flat and closed the door behind her, a quiet sigh escaping her lips. It was a long Wednesday at the Factory and she felt tonight was the night she would take Lisa’s advice and give herself a night of pampering. The flat felt unusually still.

She kicked off her shoes and let herself sink into the familiar rhythm of home. For once, there was no one else to consider, no agenda, no responsibilities pressing in. Tonight was hers.

She thought about Lisa’s words, the gentle insistence to truly focus on herself. She really enjoyed talking to Lisa, and for a brief moment she wanted to invite her over to enjoy the evening with her. “For god sakes Carla, how pathetic. Inviting your bloody therapist over. How desperate can you be” she said aloud to herself. For a moment, a small, guilty thrill ran through her—like she was breaking a rule by taking this time so deliberately. She shook her head, smiling faintly. No, it wasn’t indulgent. It was necessary.

She decided to start simple. Ordering her favorite takeaway— a classic margarita pizza and a small piece of cake for dessert because why not. While waiting, she poured herself a glass of red wine, the clink of the glass against the counter felt unusually satisfying, grounding her in the present.

Once the food arrived, she sank into her couch, pulling a soft blanket around her legs. Comfies tucked around her like a protective cocoon, she flicked on her favorite show—comforting, familiar, something that didn’t demand anything of her but still gave her a sense of being seen, of being somewhere she belonged. Between slices of pizza and sips of wine, she let herself drift into half-attentive thought.

It wasn’t just about relaxation. It was reflection, a quiet experiment. She asked herself: what do I want right now? What makes me feel good? The questions were simple, yet terrifying in their openness. For the first time in weeks, maybe months, she didn’t need to justify her answers to anyone else.

After the last bite, she decided it was time for the bath Lisa had suggested, adding her cherry vanilla bubble bath and watching the foam rise. She poured another glass of wine, took the small dessert from the kitchen, and carried both to the bathroom. The warm, scented water wrapped around her like an embrace, soothing tight muscles and easing her mind. She closed her eyes and let herself be fully present—the scent, the warmth, the indulgence. Her mind drifted to her appointments. She started to look forward to them. There had only been two so far, but it wasn’t something that made her nervous in a bad way, or something she dreaded. She actually enjoyed speaking to Lisa. She started to feel understood, and it gave her a sense of company.

Time slipped past unnoticed. She lingered in the bath longer than she thought she would, sipping her wine, enjoying the sweet richness of dessert, feeling the water cling to her skin in a way that was both comforting and intimate. Every little ritual—the bubbles, the soft glow of candlelight, the quiet solitude—reminded her of what it felt like to care for herself without interruption, without judgment.

Eventually, she drained the bath and slipped into fresh pajamas, settling into bed with her duvet pulled around her. For a moment, she just lay there, the room dim and still, and marveled at the simplicity of the evening. Her body and mind really seemed to relax, and she was a little startled when the feeling came over her. Then, almost on a whim, she reached for something she hadn’t used in a long time—her vibrator.

There was a moment of hesitation, a faint embarrassment that washed over Carla as she reached for her vibrator. She quickly pushed it aside. This was her night, her private ritual—something she would never dare share with her therapist. It would remain her own little secret.

As her body stirred with anticipation, Carla tried to let herself sink into the moment. She didn’t have a partner now, no one she was interested in. Would she even get there? What would it take?

Her breath grew uneven as she felt the wetness gathering between her thighs. Lifting her pajama top, she ran her fingers across her nipples, a shiver coursing through her. It felt good—better than she remembered—but then the pleasure stalled, suspended in the air like it needed a spark to set it off.

Carla’s mind wandered, searching. She tried her ex, but the thought left her flat. She pictured a celebrity everyone swore was irresistible—but it felt hollow, unrealistic. Nothing. Her mind wasn’t helping.

So she gave up on thinking and focused only on the pulse of sensation between her legs. And then—unbidden—the memory of her session earlier in the week surfaced. Lisa’s voice, low and steady, telling her to focus on herself. The way she had leaned in, words soft but strong, urging Carla to honor what she wanted.

A rush coursed through her, sharp and undeniable. Surely not, she thought, almost panicked. But the image of Lisa lingered, wrapping itself around her like a tide she couldn’t hold back. Her body responded before her mind could argue.

Fuck it.

Carla let herself imagine Lisa closer than she should have—hovering over her, lips brushing her neck, a steady hand sliding down her torso before slipping lower. The fantasy crashed into her all at once, dangerous but intoxicating. She pictured Lisa’s fingers entering and at that thought, she thrust her fingers inside herself, and her body reacted instantly, tightening around the pressure, a powerful orgasm surging through her.

When it broke, Carla collapsed back into the bed, chest rising and falling, vibrator loose in her hand. A wave of guilt rippled through her as the aftershocks faded. It felt good—too good—and wrong all at once.

She lay there, staring at the ceiling, heart still racing. She’d used Lisa in her mind, her therapist, the one person who had been steady and safe. Now, she couldn’t shake the unease. Why Lisa?

She didn’t want to find another therapist—she liked Lisa. But maybe that was the problem. She shook the thought off quickly. It was just a person she had no real tie too and that is the very reason her body reacted.

Chapter Text

Friday arrived quicker than Carla expected. She almost canceled her appointment that morning, her thumb hovering over the “reschedule” button. But she didn’t. Instead, she found herself once again in Lisa’s office, a little built of secret guilt rushing through her.

Lisa smiled warmly as Carla sat down, tucking her bag at her feet. “So, Carla. How did your evening of self-care go?”

Carla fiddled with the hem of her sleeve, smiling faintly. “It was… actually nice. I ordered takeaway, had some wine, curled up on the couch. I even took a bubble bath. It felt indulgent. Like I actually gave myself permission to… just enjoy.”

Lisa nodded, her expression softening. “That sounds wonderful. Sometimes slowing down and creating that space for yourself can shift so much, even if it feels small at the time.”

“Yeah,” Carla agreed, trying to keep her tone even. “It felt… different. Like I wasn’t just wasting time. I was doing it for me.”

Lisa leaned forward slightly. “And when you finally got in bed to unwind, what were your thoughts, feelings, reflections? Did anything in particular come up for you?”

The question hit harder than Carla expected. Her stomach flipped. She’d been so confident a moment ago, but suddenly her throat felt dry.

“In bed?” she repeated, stalling.

Lisa tilted her head gently, sensing something. “Yes. I mean after the bath, after the evening… when you were alone and winding down. Did you notice anything about how you were feeling?”

Carla’s face warmed. Her mind betrayed her instantly, replaying flashes of what she’d done—the vibrator, the thoughts, Lisa’s voice in her head. She forced a laugh, shaky and too quick. “Oh, you know… I was just tired. Relaxed. Nothing major.”

Lisa studied her, brow furrowing slightly. “You hesitated. Can I ask—was it uncomfortable to think about?”

Carla’s pulse hammered in her ears. “No, not uncomfortable, just… I don’t know. Maybe a little personal?”

Lisa softened her tone, holding her gaze. “That’s completely fair. You only need to share what feels safe for you. But sometimes, the things we avoid talking about are the ones that hold meaning.”

Carla swallowed hard, feeling her palms sweat. “I just… I don’t know if I should say it. It feels… stupid.”

“Carla,” Lisa said gently, “nothing you share here is stupid. And remember, this space is yours. I’m here to help you process, not judge.”

Carla looked down at her lap, fingers twisting together. The silence stretched. She wanted to speak, but the words tangled before they left her mouth.

Lisa gave her a moment, then tried again. “What’s worrying you most about saying it out loud?”

“That it’ll… change something,” Carla whispered.

Lisa’s expression flickered with confusion. “Change what?”

Carla’s eyes darted up, catching the kindness in Lisa’s face, and it made everything worse. Her chest tightened. She shook her head quickly. “Forget it. I—it’s nothing.”

Lisa sat back slightly, studying her, but not pushing. “Okay. If you’re not ready, that’s alright. I don’t want you to feel pressured. But… I want you to notice what’s happening right now. You started to share something, then pulled away because of fear. That moment matters. Can you feel what’s underneath it?”

Carla’s throat burned. “I just… I don’t want you to think differently of me.”

Lisa’s eyes softened further, voice almost a whisper. “Carla, nothing you say here will make me think less of you. I promise you that.”

The reassurance was too much. Carla looked away, blinking quickly, fighting the heat behind her eyes. Her panic was rising, the very thing she’d tried to avoid spilling over. She laughed weakly, the sound hollow. “God, I sound ridiculous right now.”

“You don’t,” Lisa said firmly. “You sound human. And I can see this is difficult for you. That alone tells me it matters.”

Carla exhaled sharply, hands gripping the arms of her chair. “I just… I don’t know how to explain it. I tried to do what you said—focus on myself, really be present. And I did. But then it… it went further. And now I feel stupid even admitting that.”

Lisa’s brows drew together slightly, her tone cautious. “Further… in what way?”

Carla froze. The room felt too small, too close. She could practically feel her heartbeat echoing off the walls. “I… I can’t. I don’t want you to know.”

Lisa’s voice gentled again. “Then don’t. Not yet. But I want you to hear this: whatever you did, whatever you felt, it doesn’t make you wrong or broken. Exploring yourself, in any way, is part of being human.”

Carla’s chest tightened at the words, too on the nose, too kind. She nodded quickly, pretending to take comfort, though the panic still buzzed beneath her skin.

Lisa offered her a small smile, easing the tension just slightly. “Maybe for now, you can just sit with the fact that you tried something new. That you let yourself focus on your own needs for once. That’s already important work.”

Carla forced a smile back. “Yeah. Okay. I can do that.”

But inside, her thoughts tangled like wires—messy, sparking, and far too close to the truth she couldn’t say.

--

Lisa watched Carla stumble, her words catching in a way that didn’t quite fit with the easy rhythm of the rest of their conversation. It wasn’t unusual for clients to hesitate, but there was something different here.

Her therapist instincts told her to tread carefully, not to push too hard. Still, she couldn’t ignore the flicker of curiosity that sparked in her. What exactly had Carla been about to say? Why did her cheeks flush so quickly?

Lisa shifted slightly in her chair, keeping her tone even and open, though inside she felt a faint hum of energy. She couldn’t put her finger on it.

She made a mental note: come back to this gently, maybe not today, but soon. There was something important in Carla’s stumble, and Lisa wanted to understand what it was.

--

Carla stood at the counter, half-heartedly chopping peppers while Ryan tossed noodles into the wok. The sizzle of garlic and soy sauce filled the kitchen, but she wasn’t really tasting the moment. Her knife moved slower than usual, her mind drifting back to Friday’s session—Lisa’s calm tone, the steady focus of her gaze, and that awkward pause she still couldn’t explain away.

“Earth to Carla,” Ryan teased, waving the spatula in front of her face. “You’ve been staring at that pepper for like ten minutes”

Carla blinked and let out a small laugh. “Sorry. Zoned out for a minute”

“Zoned out?” he grinned, brow raised. “That’s the third time tonight. I swear you’re somewhere else entirely.”

She shrugged, picking at a seed on the cutting board. “Just tired. Long week.”

“Mm-hm.” He nudged her shoulder gently with his. “Sure it’s not that you’re secretly plotting an escape plan? I mean, if you’re gonna ditch me mid–stir-fry, at least leave me the peppers.”

Carla smiled despite herself, rolling her eyes. “Don’t tempt me Ryan”

Ryan gave her a searching look—more playful than serious, but sharp enough to make her stomach tighten. “Seriously, though. You good? You’ve been… I don’t know. Distant. Like you’re thinking about something but don’t want to say.”

Her chest tightened. For a fleeting second, she almost blurted it out—I can’t stop thinking about my therapist, and I don’t know what it means. Instead, she shook her head quickly. “I’m fine. Just brain fog. Happens sometimes.”

He studied her a moment longer before turning back to the wok. “Alright, foggy brain. But if you bail on dinner, I’m not saving you any.”

“I’d never,” she said, though her voice lacked its usual conviction.

They finished dinner with small talk. She laughed, but the whole time she felt like she was playing along, not really present.

Afterward, when Ryan offered to put on a movie, Carla stretched and said, “Think I’ll take a bath instead. Just need to decompress.”

“Fair enough,” he said easily, giving her a quick kiss on the temple. “Don’t drown in there with your thoughts.”

“Oh give over Ryan!”

Carla carried her glass of wine into the bathroom and sank into the tub, lavender-scented bubbles curling around her. She let her head tip back against the rim, steam fogging the mirror, but her mind didn’t relax. Instead, it circled, slow and insistent, back to Lisa.

When you finally got in bed to unwind, what were your thoughts, feelings, reflections?

The memory of the question landed like a stone in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to breathe it away. But Lisa’s voice—low, warm, steady—echoed in her head, and she felt her stomach lurch.

She shifted restlessly, arms wrapped around herself. This wasn’t just about therapy anymore. It wasn’t just admiration. It was heavier, sharper, like her body knew something she hadn’t allowed her mind to admit yet.

“What is this?” she whispered to the empty room.

Her heart thudded harder than the bathwater warranted. She tried to reason with herself. Was this fixation really about Lisa—her smile, her calm authority, the way she leaned in when she spoke—or was Lisa just unlocking something deeper? Was this simply her body’s way of revealing she might find women attractive, that maybe she always had, and it was only now surfacing in a way she couldn’t ignore?

The thought both unsettled and intrigued her. If it was Lisa, that was dangerous. Complicated. But if it was more than that—if it was her—then it opened a door Carla wasn’t sure she was ready to walk through.

She sank lower in the water, wine glass balanced on the rim, staring at the ceiling as if the answer might be written there. Instead, all she felt was the weight in her stomach, equal parts fear and curiosity.

Chapter Text

Lisa had grown used to Carla walking into her office with a certain hesitancy, but today it felt different. Carla sank into the armchair across from her, crossing her arms almost protectively, eyes flicking to the bookshelf, the framed diploma, the soft rug—anywhere but Lisa.

“Rough week?” Lisa asked gently, letting space open between them.

Carla gave a small shrug. “I guess you could say that.”

“You don’t sound convinced,” Lisa replied, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

Another shrug. Carla’s jaw tensed. “It’s not… bad, exactly. Just… confusing.”

“Confusing how?”

Carla twisted in her seat, tugging at a loose thread on her sleeve. “I don’t know. I keep… overthinking. About myself. About what I want. About who I am, maybe.”

Lisa leaned forward slightly, careful with her tone. “That sounds like a lot to carry by yourself.”

“Yeah,” Carla murmured, finally glancing up, though her eyes darted away again. “It is.”

A quiet pause settled between them. Lisa knew better than to rush her, but she could sense something circling, just out of reach.

“What’s at the core of the confusion?” Lisa asked softly.

Carla exhaled a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be sitting here.”

Lisa smiled lightly at the deflection and tilted her head. “Okay, fair. Maybe we can take it one piece at a time. When you’re in those moments of overthinking, what kinds of thoughts come up?”

Carla pressed her lips together, weighing each word. “It’s… personal.”

“Of course,” Lisa said, her voice steady. “This is your space. You share only what feels safe.”

Carla hesitated, then sighed. “It’s just… I’m starting to question things I never questioned before.”

Lisa watched her closely. “Things about yourself?”

“Yeah.” Carla’s voice was quiet, nearly swallowed by the room. “About who I… like. Who I’m drawn to.”

Lisa kept her face calm, though a subtle shift rippled through her chest. “That’s an important thing to sit with. Questioning attraction can feel unsettling, especially if it’s new.”

Carla nodded, cheeks warming. “I don’t even know if it’s real. Or if I’m just… imagining it because my brain’s wired weird lately.”

Lisa tilted her head slightly. “What makes you think it might not be real?”

Carla swallowed. “Because it doesn’t fit the version of myself I thought I knew. I’ve only ever dated men… only ever pictured myself that way. And now I… I notice things I didn’t before. And it scares me.”

Lisa let the words settle in the quiet. “It sounds like you’re questioning your sexuality. Is that right?”

Carla’s shoulders tightened, but she nodded. “Yeah. Maybe. God, it feels strange to say it out loud.”

“There’s nothing strange about it,” Lisa said softly. “Many people realize their attractions shift, or discover parts of themselves later than expected. It doesn’t make you broken—it makes you human.”

Carla’s lips trembled in the faintest smile, but she ducked her head. “I don’t even know what to do with it. Ignore it? Explore it? Pretend it’s not there?”

Lisa leaned forward, calm but intentional. “What feels scarier—ignoring it, or exploring it?”

Carla laughed nervously. “Exploring it, for sure. Ignoring it is easier. Familiar.”

Lisa nodded. “But maybe not sustainable?”

Carla finally met her eyes. The weight of it made her pulse quicken. “No. Probably not.”

They sat in silence for a beat. Lisa felt the heat in the room—the unsaid tension of curiosity, self-doubt, and something that felt like longing. She wanted to tread carefully—professional, but supportive.

“You don’t need all the answers today,” Lisa said gently. “All you need is honesty with yourself. Even if it’s just saying, ‘I’m curious,’ or ‘I’m unsure.’ That’s enough.”

Carla pressed her lips together, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “It’s terrifying. I don’t want to lose who I thought I was.”

“Discovering something new doesn’t erase who you’ve been,” Lisa reassured her. “It expands it. Over time, you might find it makes you feel more whole.”

Carla exhaled shakily. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

“You don’t have to be ready. You just have to be willing to keep trying,” Lisa said softly.

Carla pressed her hands together, tension still present, but relief flickering. Saying it out loud had cracked open a door she’d been holding shut. Lisa, meanwhile, maintained her composure, but felt a faint warmth she quickly tucked away.

“Let’s hold it here for now,” Lisa said finally. “No decisions. No labels. Just awareness. How does that feel?”

Carla exhaled, a small smile breaking through. “Safe. For now.”

Lisa leaned forward again, her voice gentle but curious. “Carla… it sounds like you’ve been circling something important. What’s beneath all this hesitation?”

Carla twisted her hands in her lap, staring at the floor. “I don’t know… I just… I keep thinking maybe it’s not men. Maybe that’s why everything feels off.”

Lisa let the silence stretch, giving the space for reflection. “You’re wondering if you might be attracted to women?”

Carla’s throat tightened, and she gave a small, hesitant nod. “Yeah. Maybe. But it feels huge, and I don’t even know where to start. You say ‘just notice,’ but it’s easy for you to say. You don’t know what it feels like to carry this.”

Lisa felt a brief catch in her breath, her professional composure slipping for a fraction. She softened her voice quickly. “Carla… you’d be surprised what I understand.”

Carla’s eyes flicked up, catching the tiny break in Lisa’s usual control. For a moment, she saw something there—a flicker of recognition, of experience. Her chest tightened, a mix of being seen and unsteady.

Lisa shifted, regaining her professional tone. “This week, when you’re near women, or your thoughts wander that way, just notice. What feelings arise in your body? What emotions surface? If it’s someone specific, consider what draws your attention. You don’t need to analyze, label, or share it all with me—just reflect.”

Carla laughed nervously, half-defensive. She glanced up at Lisa who was gazing at her steady. Serious.

“Okay, I will try that. I will.”

Lisa gave a small, steady smile, her heart beating faster than she wanted to admit. “Sometimes the hardest part is giving yourself permission to feel without judgment. That’s all I’m asking.”

Carla swallowed slowly. She wasn’t sure if the warmth in her chest came from the assignment or the unguarded way Lisa had looked at her just now.

--

Lisa’s POV:

She hung her coat, kicked off her shoes, and moved into her apartment, her mind still circling the session. She poured herself a glass of deep red wine and sank into her favorite chair by the window. The city lights shimmered outside, but she wasn’t really seeing them.

Instead, her thoughts returned to Carla. The way she’d shifted nervously in her seat, the faint pink that had touched her cheeks, the careful tension in her hands—everything about her had felt intimate in a subtle, impossible way. Lisa took a slow sip of wine, letting the warmth spread through her chest as she cataloged the details she noticed every session: the gentle arch of her brows, the curve of her neck, the soft timbre of her voice when she grew reflective, the way her eyes darted away when caught in a vulnerable moment.

Lisa shook her head lightly, chastising herself for lingering on these thoughts. She was a professional, a therapist—boundaries mattered. Yet the warmth in her chest, the pull of curiosity, refused to fade. She rested her glass on the side table and leaned back, letting herself acknowledge the tension without judgment.

Her mind replayed Carla’s hesitancy, the nervous little laughs, the way she bit her lip when speaking about herself. It made Lisa feel both intrigued and slightly unsettled. She traced the rim of her glass absentmindedly, imagining Carla sitting across from her, her subtle blush, the way she fiddled with her sleeves.

For a moment, she allowed herself to relax, letting the wine and the quiet of her apartment wash over her. She focused on her breathing, on the soft hum of the city beyond her window, trying to let go of the professional tension. But even as she settled into this small, personal evening, her thoughts kept returning to Carla, to the way she had shifted the room with her presence.

Lisa took another sip, thinking, this is complicated, yet feeling the smallest thrill at the thought. It was an awareness she couldn’t ignore.

She sank deeper into her chair, her thoughts growing hazy and drowsy. Half-asleep, Lisa imagined setting her notebook down on the stand and moving over to Carla’s couch during their session.

“How do you feel when I get this close to you, Carla?” she whispered. Carla looked frightened but curious.

“I need you to tell me,” Lisa pressed.

“Good… I feel good,” Carla choked out.

“And how about when I kiss your neck?”

Carla moaned, leaning closer. “Maybe when I do this?” Lisa murmured, tracing a line up her neck with her tongue. Carla moaned again, louder, and parted her legs slightly. Lisa slipped a knee between them, lost in the moment.

Suddenly, reality snapped back. Lisa almost knocked over the red wine on her chair.

“Jesus, Lisa! Snap out of it!”

Carla’s POV:

Back in her flat, Carla sank onto the couch, kicking off her shoes and pulling a blanket around her legs. She stared at the ceiling, replaying Lisa’s words, the homework assignment, the quiet intensity behind each question. A frustrated groan escaped her.

“Notice my feelings? Really?” she muttered, glaring at the ceiling. “I already know what I’m feeling. I know who’s making me feel this way.”

Her stomach twisted. She hugged the blanket tighter to her chest. “And I don’t even know why… or what I’m supposed to do with this. Admit it? Explore it? Hide it?”

Her thoughts drifted to Lisa—every session, every glance, every carefully measured question. The weight of it pressed down on her, making her heart pound, her stomach drop. It was maddening, undeniable.

Shaking her head, Carla muttered, “It’s not just anyone. It’s… her.”

Her fingers clenched the blanket. The homework wasn’t wrong in theory—reflection was meant to enlighten, to help her understand herself. But in her case, it felt redundant, unavoidable, terrifying. She didn’t need to analyze attraction to women in general. She knew it was Lisa stirring something inside her.

Her lips pressed together as the thought sank in. This wasn’t curiosity. This wasn’t fleeting. Her body remembered; her mind remembered.

“I don’t know how to… handle this,” she whispered. “How do you even process it?”

The apartment was too quiet. Carla hugged the blanket closer, burying her face. She wanted clarity, a way to make sense of it, to understand what it meant to feel this way for someone she shouldn’t.

Finally, she exhaled slowly. Maybe stepping back was the only option. A week, maybe two—time away from sessions, away from Lisa—might help her cool these feelings, regain some sense of control. Not avoidance, she told herself. Just space.

She closed her eyes and let herself rest, hoping the distance would give her the clarity she so desperately needed.

Chapter Text

Carla sat in the waiting room, chewing at the side of her cheek. She told herself to breathe, to stop fussing with the strap of her bag, but her nerves had already gotten the better of her. All week she had tried to work through Lisa’s assignment, to put pen to paper and be honest about how she felt around women. The trouble was, there was only one woman she could think about, and she couldn’t exactly bring that homework in without setting fire to the room.

The door clicked open, and Lisa appeared with her practiced smile. “Carla? Come on in.”

Carla gathered herself and followed her inside.

Lisa, though outwardly calm, felt no less uneasy. She’d gone over a dozen ways to phrase the question—how to follow up on the assignment without pushing too far. She closed the door gently and gestured to the couch.

“Good to see you again,” Lisa said, taking her usual seat across the room. “How has your week been?”

Carla gave a noncommittal shrug. “Busy. Tiring. I’ve been… thinking a lot.”

“That’s what the exercise was meant to do,” Lisa said softly. “To encourage reflection. Did you find it helpful?”

Carla shifted on the couch. “Not… really. I mean, I tried. I sat down, I wrote some things. But it didn’t make sense. Or maybe it made too much sense.”

Lisa tilted her head, sensing the weight in Carla’s words. “Tell me what you mean by that.”

Carla hesitated, her face heating. “I just… it didn’t feel like I was learning something new. It was like—I already knew the answer, but I didn’t want to write it.”

Lisa nodded slowly, her therapist’s mask steady, even as something in her chest tightened. “Sometimes our reluctance tells us more than the exercise itself. What stopped you from writing it?”

Carla let out a frustrated laugh. “Because it sounded… stupid. Or obvious. Or—like I was just stuck on one thought and couldn’t get past it.”

“Stuck on one thought,” Lisa repeated carefully. “Or one person?”

Carla’s breath caught, and she snapped her gaze up at Lisa, startled. For a moment, she thought Lisa knew. Her mouth opened, then closed again. “It’s not… I don’t know.” She fidgeted with her hands, her voice tightening. “This is too much. It feels impossible to say out loud.”

Lisa leaned forward just slightly. “Carla, it’s okay. You don’t have to force it. I’m not here to judge—I’m here to help you find clarity. Even if all you can say is that it feels confusing, that’s enough.”

Carla exhaled shakily. “Confusing, yeah. That’s one word for it.” She fell silent, chewing her lip, before muttering, “It’s easy for you to say.”

Lisa blinked, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

Carla looked down at her lap, embarrassed. “Well… you’re straight. You don’t have to deal with this mess. Wondering. Second-guessing.”

Lisa’s composure cracked for the briefest moment. A quick flicker in her expression—so fast Carla almost missed it. But she didn’t.

“You’re… not?” Carla asked cautiously, her voice trembling.

Lisa straightened in her chair, fighting to regain her calm. “I didn’t say that.”

Carla’s stomach dropped, her head spinning. “Oh.”

The silence that followed was sharp, heavy with unspoken things. Lisa forced herself to breathe evenly, to guide the session back on track before either of them went too far.

“Carla,” she said gently, “what matters is you. Your feelings. Your questions. This isn’t about me.”

Carla nodded faintly, but the spark of realization lingered in her mind.

Lisa folded her hands, trying a new approach. “Maybe the journaling wasn’t the best tool for you. Sometimes exercises feel too abstract. One alternative that’s been effective is guided connection. It’s a safe, moderated app. It’s not really a dating app. It matches people with similar questions, curiosities, or experiences. You can talk, share reflections. And if you’re comfortable, eventually there are built-in options to meet in safe, public spaces. It takes the pressure off. It lets you see how you feel in real interactions, not just in your head.”

Carla tilted her head, skeptical. “So… like a practice run?”

“Think of it as exploration without risk,” Lisa said.

Carla nodded, but the hesitation lingered. Deep down, she knew no app could really tell her the truth. What she needed to figure out was sitting right across from her.

--

Carla sat cross-legged on her couch, phone balanced in her hand as if it were a live grenade. The app Lisa had suggested glowed on her screen, waiting for her to press download.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, chewing the inside of her cheek. “I don’t even want this. I want…” Her voice faltered before she said the name. Lisa. Saying it aloud felt too dangerous, even alone.

But the silence in her flat pressed in heavier than she could stand. The TV murmured in the background, but it didn’t soften the sharp edges of loneliness. With a frustrated groan, she tapped the button. The progress bar crawled across the screen, and it felt like betrayal with every percent.

Creating the profile was worse. You couldn’t upload a photo—something about keeping it “authentic”—but you had to choose a username that hinted at yourself, and write a few words. It felt like peeling back skin for strangers to prod at. What was the point, when the only person she wanted to read her was the one who’d put her onto this app in the first place?

She typed, deleted, retyped. Finally she settled on:

Username: BrunetteBoss

Figuring myself out. Red wine enthusiast. Usually quiet, but not always.

It looked hollow to her, like she’d dressed up someone else’s truth and called it her own. She tossed the phone aside, pressing her face into a pillow. “God, what am I doing?”

But curiosity was cruel. Before long, she peeked again.

A match. Already. Her pulse spiked, sharp in her throat. The username blinked up at her: Green-eyedlistener. The profile was short, but it hooked something in her chest: Listener. Reader. Searching for something real in a noisy world.

Carla froze. This was the part she hated most—the idea of pretending she could be interested in anyone else, when she knew exactly where her attraction already lived. Her thumb hovered, trembling, ready to swipe the whole thing away.

Then the chat bubble appeared. A message popped up: Hi. How’s your night?

Her stomach flipped, not with joy but with guilt. She told herself she shouldn’t answer. What good would it do? Yet her fingers moved before her brain could stop them.

Hi. Quiet night in. Yours?

The second she hit send, regret surged through her. She dropped the phone on the couch as though it had scorched her skin.

--

Across town, Lisa sat in her own flat, a half-empty glass of wine perched dangerously close to her elbow. The glow of her laptop filled the room, but she wasn’t working. She hadn’t been able to focus for days.

When she’d first suggested the app to Carla, she’d done it with her calm, professional tone. But the truth was, she had already been circling the idea herself. Loneliness had been creeping around her edges for months, years maybe. She didn’t want to admit it, but it was true: she missed human connection. Not just sex, not just romance—but being seen, being known, in some way.

So, after her session with Carla, she’d caved. The app blinked open on her phone, asking for a username. She hesitated, then typed: Green-eyedlistener.

She didn’t expect much. But when her first match popped up—Brunetteboss—she paused. The profile was brief, hesitant but sincere. Something about the tone drew her in. She typed before she could second-guess: Hi. How’s your night?

The reply came minutes later: Hi. Quiet night in. Yours?

Lisa felt her lips curve into the first genuine smile she’d had in days. She took a sip of wine, fingers poised over the keyboard. Mine too. Sometimes those are the best nights. What do you usually do to unwind?

BrunetteBoss: Honestly? I’m not great at unwinding. I usually pace around, pick at work on my laptop, or just… overthink.

GreenEyedListener: Overthinking should be listed as a full-time job. I’d be highly qualified.

Carla chuckled, the corner of her mouth tugging upward despite herself.

BrunetteBoss: Oh, same. Maybe we should add it to our résumés. Skills: professional overthinker.

GreenEyedListener: Don’t tempt me, I’d actually do it. But I try to balance it out. Nights like this, I usually read or listen to music. Helps keep my brain from running wild.

BrunetteBoss: What kind of music?

GreenEyedListener: Depends on my mood. Sometimes soft, slow stuff—other times something louder to drown out the silence. You?

Carla hesitated, then answered truthfully.

BrunetteBoss: I lean toward softer things too. Something that feels… safe. Like the world pauses for a bit.

GreenEyedListener: I get that. Sometimes I think that’s all I want—just one space where I don’t have to pretend or perform.

Carla’s chest tightened. She found herself typing before her nerves could stop her.

BrunetteBoss: Same. It feels rare, though. Hard to find people who make you feel that way.

GreenEyedListener: Maybe that’s why we’re both here.

The simplicity of the words made Carla’s pulse quicken. She shifted on the couch, hugging a cushion against her stomach.

BrunetteBoss: Maybe. I’m still not sure this will help. But… I’m willing to try.

GreenEyedListener: That’s all anyone can do, right? Try. See what happens.

Carla tapped her nail against the phone case, chewing her lip.

BrunetteBoss: So tell me—what’s your idea of a perfect night?

GreenEyedListener: Easy. Good food, good wine, and company I can actually relax around. The kind of night where you lose track of time because you’re too busy laughing or talking.

Carla smiled, wistful.

BrunetteBoss: That does sound perfect.

GreenEyedListener: Your turn.

BrunetteBoss: Mine’s similar, I think. But maybe quieter. Just someone to sit with. Doesn’t even matter what we’re doing. Sometimes just being is enough.

Lisa set her phone down for a second, staring at the words. She swallowed against the unexpected ache in her throat before lifting the phone again.

GreenEyedListener: You sound like someone who values presence more than distraction.

BrunetteBoss: I do. Distractions don’t last.

GreenEyedListener: True. Presence is harder to find… but more powerful.

Carla stared at the message until her eyes blurred, her chest tight with the strange comfort of it. Whoever this was, they understood in a way that felt dangerously close to familiar.

BrunetteBoss: You’re good with words.

GreenEyedListener: Comes with the overthinking territory. Trust me, it’s not always a gift.

Carla laughed, then typed.

BrunetteBoss: Still. It doesn’t feel like small talk with you. And I hate small talk.

GreenEyedListener: Same. That’s probably why this feels… easy.

Her heart skipped, the word easy softening something inside her.

BrunetteBoss: Yeah. Easy.

BrunetteBoss: Can I… ask you something?

GreenEyedListener: Of course.

BrunetteBoss: Are you… a woman? I mean, I know the app asks, but… just checking.

There was a pause. Carla’s thumb hovered over the screen, anxious.

GreenEyedListener: Yes. I am. And that’s actually part of why we matched. The app lets you filter for people you’re open to a possible intimate connection with, and based on our selections, it’s clear we’re both interested in connecting with women.

Carla exhaled slowly, a mix of relief and fluttering nerves.

BrunetteBoss: Oh… okay. That makes sense. I just… I don’t know. I get nervous about that kind of thing.

GreenEyedListener: Totally understandable. It’s not every day you start a conversation with someone new and suddenly feel like you might be… exploring something real.

Carla bit her lip, typing slowly, almost deliberately.

BrunetteBoss: Yeah. It feels like… I don’t know. Like it could be real, but I don’t know what I feel yet.

GreenEyedListener: That’s the point, though, isn’t it? To explore. See what stirs, what matters to you, without judgment.

Carla shifted on the couch, hugging a cushion to her chest.

BrunetteBoss: You make it sound so easy. I guess… I just hope I don’t screw it up.

GreenEyedListener: You won’t. Curiosity is the only thing you need right now. Just notice what excites you, what draws you in, what makes your heart race.

Carla’s chest tightened at the subtle suggestion, a blush creeping up her neck even through the text.

BrunetteBoss: Okay. I’ll… try.

GreenEyedListener: That’s all anyone can ask. And who knows? Maybe we’ll learn a lot about ourselves along the way.

Carla hesitated, then typed one last message before putting her phone down for the moment.

BrunetteBoss: Yeah… maybe we will.

Carla set her phone down for a moment, curling up on the couch under her blanket. The messages from GreenEyedListener made her chest flutter in a familiar, dizzying way. She couldn’t help picturing Lisa’s calm face, the reassurance in her tone, the warmth she always felt talking to her.

Carla stared at the screen, a small laugh escaping her lips. She typed carefully, teasing but sincere:

BrunetteBoss: You know… your username actually fits. You really are a good listener.

The reply came almost instantly, and it made her chest flutter:

GreenEyedListener: A good listener, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment.

Carla smiled, curling the blanket around her. She hesitated, then added with a bit of playful boldness:

BrunetteBoss: Seriously. I feel like I could tell you anything.

GreenEyedListener: Well, that’s exactly the idea. I’m curious—anything you want to share tonight?

Carla bit her lip, feeling the familiar warmth of safety and comfort she always felt with Lisa, now transmitted through this anonymous connection. She shook her head with a small laugh.

BrunetteBoss: Maybe… I just like that I can talk to someone who actually listens.

GreenEyedListener: I’m glad you do. That’s what I’m here for, after all.

BrunetteBoss: Well… I should probably call it a night. Early morning tomorrow.

GreenEyedListener: Already? The night’s just getting cozy.

BrunetteBoss: Haha, I know. I just… need sleep. But I really hope we can talk again tomorrow.

GreenEyedListener: I’d like that. Sleep well, and maybe dream of interesting things.

BrunetteBoss: I’ll try. Goodnight.

GreenEyedListener: Goodnight.

Chapter Text

Carla walked into Underworld that morning with a faint, quiet smile tugging at her lips. The day ahead seemed lighter somehow, and she found herself unusually conscious of the way she carried herself. Usually, the factory was a jumble of background noise, and constant interruptions, but today she didn’t want to be dragged into meaningless chatter. She was savoring a private glow that no one around her could touch.

Her coworkers noticed, but mostly in small, subtle ways—a longer pause before speaking, a curious tilt of the head—but no one pressed. Carla moved through her tasks efficiently, restocking shelves, arranging displays, occasionally chatting, but always with a sense of quiet focus. Even in the small moments when someone tried to draw her into casual conversation, she smiled politely and excused herself, preferring the calm hum of her own thoughts.

By mid-afternoon, she peeked at her phone. GreenEyedListener hadn’t messaged yet. She didn’t mind. Both of them had busy lives, and she could tell that the person on the other end had responsibilities beyond this tiny, private world they were building together.

Evening arrived, and Carla settled into her flat with a cozy sigh. She ordered a takeaway, tucked herself into the couch with a blanket, and let herself sink into the quiet comfort of home. She picked up her phone and drafted her message.

BrunetteBoss: Finally. Dinner is here, and I’m officially in couch mode. How’s your evening going?

GreenEyedListener: Slow and quiet. Sometimes slow is exactly what you need. What are you having?

BrunetteBoss: Thai. Spicy enough to burn away my brain a little. And a glass of wine, of course.

GreenEyedListener: Sounds perfect. Tell me to bugger off if I’m being too personal, but have you… been out for a while? Or are you just figuring yourself out?

Carla froze for a moment, thumb hovering over the keyboard. She bit her lip, then typed slowly, carefully.

BrunetteBoss: Honestly… I’ve just recently discovered these feelings. It’s… confusing. I spent a night pampering myself, and I… did something kind of embarrassing. While thinking about a woman I’ve just met. My therapist actually. How pathetic right?

There was a pause before GreenEyedListener replied.

GreenEyedListener: Embarrassing, huh? That’s… normal, I think. This kind of realization doesn’t come neatly. Also, it isn’t pathetic that it was your therapist. Therapists can be hot you know. What happened, if you don’t mind sharing?

Carla chewed the inside of her cheek, hesitating. But there was something about the conversation, the tone, that made her feel safe, unjudged.

BrunetteBoss: I… spent some time with myself, thinking about her. And I… got caught up in it more than I expected. Totally ridiculous.

GreenEyedListener: Not ridiculous. Vulnerable, maybe. Brave, even. Being honest about these things is the first step.

Carla felt heat rise to her cheeks as she read the words. She hadn’t meant to confess so much, but the anonymity made it feel easier—somehow safer.

BrunetteBoss: Brave? That feels… strange to read. But thanks. It helps to say it out loud. The person I talk to about these things, I don’t really want to tell her.

GreenEyedListener: That’s what I’m here for. Listening, not judging. And sometimes just knowing someone else understands is enough to make things feel… less heavy.

Carla leaned back against the couch, the soft hum of her TV forgotten. She sipped her wine, thinking about how the conversation mirrored what she’d always felt with Lisa—the warmth, the reassurance, the quiet feeling of safety.

Lisa was on glass two of her wine, and started to turn things up a little.

GreenEyedListener: You know… sometimes exploring something new can be more fun with a guide. Someone who knows a little more than you.

BrunetteBoss: A guide, huh? That sounds… intriguing. And dangerous.

Carla felt a thrill surge through her at the suggestion.

GreenEyedListener: Maybe just a little. But only if you want it. No pressure. Just curiosity.

BrunetteBoss: Hmm… curiosity, huh. Well… I’ve been… thinking about… what it would be like. With a woman. And… I don’t really know.

GreenEyedListener: That’s fair. A lot of people don’t at first. It can be confusing, exciting, a little scary. But… it can also be… enlightening.

BrunetteBoss: Enlightening? How… do you mean?

GreenEyedListener: I mean… you might discover things about yourself you didn’t even know were there. How your body reacts, how your mind reacts… what really makes you feel alive.

Carla felt her chest tighten. Her fingers hovered, hesitant.

BrunetteBoss: And… would you… help with that? Or is that too forward?

GreenEyedListener: That depends… are you looking for guidance? Or just… someone to talk through it with?

BrunetteBoss: Maybe both. I mean… I’ve never been with a woman before, and I don’t know what I’d… even do.

GreenEyedListener: Then maybe… it’s okay to start small. Ask questions, explore your thoughts, notice what feels right, what excites you… maybe even try imagining it. Step by step.

BrunetteBoss: Step by step… okay. And… you wouldn’t mind… helping me imagine it?

GreenEyedListener: Not at all. If that’s what you want. Just… being honest with yourself is the first step, and I can help you figure out the rest, if you let me.

Carla’s cheeks flushed. Her heartbeat picked up. She even felt herself throb in areas she wouldn’t admit to quite yet.

BrunetteBoss: Wow… okay. That’s… kind of perfect. And terrifying.

GreenEyedListener: Good. Terrifying means it matters. And curiosity… curiosity is the fun part.

Carla bit her lip, smiling shyly at the screen.

BrunetteBoss: I think… I might want to… ask more. Learn more. About… women. About… myself.

GreenEyedListener: Then ask. Tell me your thoughts, your fears, the questions that make your cheeks warm. I’ll listen… and help you explore, if you let me.

Carla’s fingers hovered again, trembling slightly.

BrunetteBoss: I think… I do. I want to explore. I just… don’t even know where to start.

GreenEyedListener: That’s fine. Start wherever you are. Be honest, be curious. Let yourself feel. And if you want… you can tell me exactly what you notice.

Carla exhaled, a mix of nervousness and excitement filling her chest. The thought of guidance, of sharing this secret curiosity with someone… someone so attuned… made her pulse race in ways she hadn’t expected.

BrunetteBoss: Okay… I think I can try that. Step by step… like you said.

GreenEyedListener: Step by step. Let’s leave it there for tonight yeah? I’d love to pick this back up tomorrow? Night boss ;)

BrunetteBoss: I look forward to that. Goodnight miss green eyes x

Chapter Text

BrunetteBoss: Good evening, green eyes ;) I have a question for you.

GreenEyedListener: Go for it.

Carla stared at the screen, fingers trembling as she typed.

BrunetteBoss: What do you like to do with a woman?

There was a pause—long enough for Carla’s pulse to start hammering in her throat. When the reply came, it was teasing but deliberate:

GreenEyedListener: How honest and in detail do you want me to be?

Carla swallowed. In that moment, she felt bold, reckless.

BrunetteBoss: I’d like to hear whatever you’re willing to tell me.

Another pause. Then:

GreenEyedListener: Well… I like to take my time. To worship every part of a woman. I love their voices, their laugh, the way their skin feels under my hands. Their hair, their scent… the way they moan and flutter their eyelashes. The wetness. The weight of a woman’s body on top of mine. It’s not just a thing to do—it’s something to cherish.

Carla’s breath caught. She felt a rush of heat bloom in her cheeks and between her thighs.

BrunetteBoss: God. I don’t even know what to say.

GreenEyedListener: I love a speechless woman ;) Is this making you feel some sort of way?

Carla hesitated, then gave in to honesty.

BrunetteBoss: Yeah. I’m… feeling a lot of things right now.

GreenEyedListener: If you want to share, I’d love to hear what they are.

Carla bit her lip. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, then she typed:

BrunetteBoss: I feel aroused. Honestly. Like I want you to lay me down, and I want to feel you on top of me. It’s crazy—I don’t even know who you are.

For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then:

GreenEyedListener: Would you still say it’s crazy if I told you I’ve been feeling the same way?

Carla’s chest rose and fell quickly.

GreenEyedListener: Listen… I hate to cut this short, especially where we are right now, but I’ve got a call coming in that I can’t ignore.

Carla’s stomach sank with disappointment as she watched the typing dots flicker.

GreenEyedListener: I’d love for you to do something about your arousal tonight. Think of me. Imagine what you want to happen. Tell me about it in the morning.

Carla’s heart thudded as she typed back.

BrunetteBoss: I think I’ll do just that. I can’t wait to speak to you in the morning.

She set her phone down, staring at the darkened screen, the echo of GreenEyedListener’s words still pulsing through her.

Chapter Text

Carla sat in the waiting room, her handbag tucked neatly on her lap, her heel bouncing softly against the tiled floor. She hated this part — the silence, the anticipation. The air always seemed thicker in here, heavy with unsaid things, like everyone waiting had secrets they were desperate to unload but couldn’t speak of.

Her phone buzzed. She jumped, startled, and quickly glanced down.

GreeneyedListener: Morning, beautiful. Tell me… how did last night go? Still thinking about me?

Carla’s breath hitched. The words burned across the screen, bold and teasing, making her heart flutter with heat. Her cheeks flushed crimson as she read it again. Still thinking about me. God, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her all night.

Her thumb hovered over the keyboard. She wanted to answer, to pour it all out — what she’d done, what she’d imagined, but not here. Not with Lisa only steps away, waiting for her. This wasn’t the kind of message you dashed off between appointments. This deserved time. Care. Honesty.

Before she could decide, the office door opened.

“Carla?” Lisa’s voice was warm, inviting.

Carla startled, shoved her phone back into her bag, and stood quickly, smoothing her pants as if nothing at all had just happened. “Hi,” she managed softly, before following her therapist into the quiet sanctuary of the office.

Lisa waited until Carla settled onto the couch before beginning. She could see something in her — an energy buzzing beneath the surface. Carla looked lighter somehow, as though she was carrying a secret too good to keep.

“So,” Lisa said gently, “how have you been since we last spoke?”

Carla fiddled with the hem of her blouse, then leaned forward, words rushing out. “I’ve… made a connection with someone. Online.”

Lisa’s chest tightened, her hands folded in her lap. She forced her face to remain neutral, though her stomach twisted. “A connection?” she asked softly. “Tell me more.”

Carla’s lips curved into a smile that nearly took Lisa’s breath away. “She makes me feel things I didn’t even know I could feel. We talk late at night. She says things that make me feel… alive. Desired. Like I’m finally discovering a part of myself I didn’t realize was there.”

A sharp pang struck Lisa’s chest — jealousy, hot and unexpected. She tamped it down quickly, tucking it behind her professional mask. She tucked a piece of her blonde hair behind her ear. “That sounds meaningful,” she murmured, though the words nearly stuck in her throat. “How does it feel to explore this new side of yourself?”

“Terrifying,” Carla admitted, her eyes shining. “But exciting. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I don’t want it to stop.”

Lisa swallowed hard. She wanted to say something, anything, but she forced herself to nod, to keep her tone calm and supportive. “It sounds like she makes you feel very seen.”

Carla’s smile deepened, and for a moment, Lisa’s stomach lurched with jealousy that she wished she was the woman making Carla feel this way.

--

Later, after the session ended, Carla sat in her car and finally pulled out her phone. The unanswered message still stared at her from the screen, waiting, hungry. She bit her lip, took a deep breath, and typed:

Sorry I didn’t answer sooner — I was just about to head into my therapy session when I got your message. Last night was… intense. I touched myself thinking of you, of how it might feel if you were with me. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I can’t stop wanting more.

She hit send before she could second-guess herself, then closed her eyes, her body tingling.

At the same time, Lisa sat at her desk, scrolling absently through notes. Her phone buzzed. She picked it up and froze.

The message lit up her screen.

I was just leaving therapy.

Her stomach plummeted.

Her chest squeezed so tight she could barely breathe.

It was Carla.

Every doubt she’d clung to — coincidence, wishful thinking, the possibility she’d imagined it — confirmed in a single instant. It was her. Carla had just laid herself bare, describing her night, her body, her desire, without even knowing who she was talking to.

Lisa’s hand trembled as she set the phone down. The room seemed to spin, her professional walls collapsing around her.

--

That evening, as Carla curled up on her couch with her phone balanced in her lap, and Lisa sat rigidly in her kitchen with her heart still hammering, the app delivered its final blow.

Congratulations! You have been killing it with your match. A dinner for two has been reserved at Bellucci’s, this Friday, 7:30pm in booth 6. Please confirm your attendance.

Carla’s eyes widened, a thrill of excitement coursing through her. A real date. A chance to see the woman who’d been consuming her thoughts. She pressed her palm to her chest, her heart racing as she whispered aloud, “Oh my God…”

On the other side of the city, Lisa stared at the glowing notification, her pulse drumming in her ears. Bellucci’s. Friday. 7:30. She could press confirm and end the guessing game — but in doing so, she’d be walking straight into the fire.

If Carla saw her across that restaurant, she’d know. Everything — the therapy, the boundaries, the fragile line Lisa had already crossed — would end. But yet, their connection had been so strong. In person, through messaging. She couldn’t help but feel alive, burning with a desire to fully immerse in this woman.

Carla’s phone chimed. She grabbed it quickly, heart thudding, and read the new notification.

Your dinner reservation has been confirmed. Your match has accepted.

Her grin spread so wide it hurt. She pressed her phone to her chest for a moment, giddy laughter bubbling up. This was real. It was happening.

Almost instantly, another message arrived.

GreenEyedListener: So… it looks like we’re really doing this.

Carla’s fingers flew across the screen.

BrunetteBoss: I can’t believe it. A real date. With you.

There was a pause — longer than usual — before Lisa replied.

Carla curled deeper into her couch, takeaway carton balanced on her lap as her thumbs hovered over the screen. Her smile hadn’t left since the confirmation had come through.

GreenEyedListener: Me neither. I’m nervous as hell.

BrunetteBoss: Nervous? Really? You? You’ve been the one making me blush every night this week.

GreenEyedListener: Screens are easy. Meeting face-to-face… that’s a whole other level. What if I’m not what you’ve imagined? What if you don’t feel the same?

Carla frowned softly, shaking her head.

BrunetteBoss: You don’t get it, do you? I already like you. You make me laugh, you make me think, you make me feel things I didn’t know I could. That doesn’t go away just because I see you in person.

GreenEyedListener: You really think so?

BrunetteBoss: I know so. And if you’re nervous, then I’ll just have to be the confident one for both of us ;)

She sent a wink, then hesitated, pulse skipping. Her boldness rose again, fingertips tingling with the risk of her next words.

BrunetteBoss: Would you… want to hear the details of my night? You know, when I couldn’t stop thinking about you?

The typing dots blinked. Stopped. Blinked again. Finally, the reply came.

GreenEyedListener: How about you meet me Friday instead. If I’m really what you want… you can tell me then.

Carla’s stomach dropped, the thrill curdling into deflation. She wanted to protest, to spill everything right there. But she could read the nerves beneath the words, could feel the careful line being drawn.

BrunetteBoss: Okay. Friday then.

Lisa closed her eyes and deeply sighed. She wanted to give Carla everything she was craving. She could feel her excitement buzzing through her phone. But she could never betray her trust when she knew the truth behind the app, but Carla didn’t.

Even as disappointment ached in Carla’s chest, a small smile returned. Friday. She could wait until Friday.

Chapter Text

Friday came too fast.

Carla stood in front of her mirror for the fifth time, smoothing the fabric of her dress over her hips. Her pulse wouldn’t calm, not even as she ran her hands through her styled hair one last time. She looked incredible—different, more radiant than she had in weeks. A tiny smile tugged at her lips as she thought, God, I hope she likes this.

Across town, Lisa sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her reflection with equal parts dread and longing. Her hair was down, curling slightly at her shoulders, a stark contrast to her usual neat therapy bun. A fitted blouse and soft trousers gave her an elegance that was still understated. She looked… human, she thought. Not the therapist. Not the professional. Just Lisa.

But her stomach twisted at the thought of Carla walking into that restaurant.

By the time Carla reached the door of the cozy little bistro, her palms were clammy. She checked the text again: Booth 6. Her heart hammered as she scanned the room.

There—tucked away in the corner, facing the window, a woman with blonde hair falling in loose waves down her back. Carla’s breath caught. She only saw her profile, her posture. She was absolutely stunning from what she could see so far.

She crept closer, nerves rattling every step.

“Green-eyed?” she whispered when she reached the booth.

Lisa’s shoulders tensed and her eyes closed when the raspy voice she had become so familiar with was confirmed. She inhaled deep, and stood up slowly facing Carla, she took Carla’s breath with her.

“Yes.”

Carla froze. Time stopped.

Carla’s jaw dropped. Lisa’s expression told her she was not surprised at the revelation. “You.” Her voice cracked, disbelieving. “You knew.”

Lisa’s lips parted, panic flashing in her green eyes. “Carla—”

“You knew and you said nothing,” Carla spat, voice rising as heat flooded her cheeks.

The restaurant blurred around her; it was only Lisa, standing there, looking beautiful, guilty, and calm in a way that only made it worse. Carla’s stomach dropped out from under her. She spun on her heel, muttering, “I can’t—” and bolted.

“Carla!” Lisa rushed after her, weaving between tables, ignoring the curious stares. By the time she caught up outside, the crisp evening air hit like a slap. She reached out, catching Carla’s wrist.

“Please—wait.”

Carla yanked lightly, but Lisa held firm. Tears pricked her eyes, fury mixing with shame.

“Why didn’t you say something the second you knew?” Carla demanded, voice breaking. “Why did you let me—let me tell you everything? I told you I fancied my therapist, for God’s sake!” She pinched her forehead as though she had a migraine, her laugh was hollow, desperate. “Do you have any idea how humiliating this is?”

Lisa’s own chest was tight, her words tumbling fast. “Carla, listen to me. I didn’t know at first. I only realized when you messaged me that day after therapy. When you said you’d just left your therapist. That’s when I knew it was you.”

Carla’s lip trembled. “And you still didn’t say anything.”

“I didn’t want to scare you off. I didn’t want to lose you—that’s why I cut our conversation short the other night. So I could speak to you properly. In person.”

Carla shook her head, eyes wide with panic. “I can’t. I can’t do this, Lisa. It’s too much. I’m too overwhelmed.” She backed away, breath unsteady. “I have to go.”

“Carla, please—”

But she was already walking off into the night, heels clicking against the pavement, putting distance between them as Lisa’s hand fell uselessly at her side.

Lisa stood there, gut sinking, watching her disappear.

Back in their separate flats, the weight of it pressed in heavy. Carla collapsed onto her couch, burying her face in her hands, every word she’d confessed echoing too loudly. She felt exposed, betrayed, and hopelessly drawn to the very woman who shouldn’t have been listening in the first place.

Lisa sat in her armchair, wine untouched, staring blankly out the window. You’ve ruined it. Ruined everything. Therapy. Trust. The fragile possibility of something real. All of it shattered.

Carla’s phone lay on the coffee table, screen dark, stubbornly quiet. Every few minutes her gaze flicked toward it, a small flare of hope sparking—Maybe she’ll message. Maybe she’ll explain again. Maybe she’ll say something to make it right.

But nothing came.

Her chest tightened as she pressed her palms into her eyes. “God, I’m so pathetic,” she whispered into the quiet. “Desperate and pathetic.” She hated the way she wanted Lisa to reach out, hated how raw and exposed she’d been, telling her things no one else had ever heard. And now? Now the silence felt like rejection.

Lisa her phone rested nearby, screen lighting up occasionally with meaningless notifications, never the one she wanted.

Her thumbs itched to type out something—I’m sorry. Please talk to me. Let’s meet again, properly this time. But she forced herself still. Carla needed space, needed time. Lisa knew if she pushed, it would only make things worse. So she swallowed her own ache, convincing herself silence was the kindest thing she could give.

Carla poured herself another glass of wine. The more she sipped, the more her thoughts circled the same maddening loop—Lisa.

Her phone glowed with the therapy reminder for next week. She stared at it, jaw tightening. No. Not next week. Not after all this. Her finger hovered, then with a stubborn click she cancelled the appointment. A petty move, maybe, but part of her hoped it would spark a reaction. Maybe then Lisa would finally say something, finally prove she cared.

Lisa was sitting in her chair drowning in her thoughts when the notification came through. Her stomach dropped at the sight—Carla cancelling. A wave of nausea swept through her, sharp and twisting. She pressed a hand to her chest, fighting back the panic.

She’s walking away. I pushed her too far.

She didn’t even think before typing:

GreenEyedListener: I want to explain, Carla. I would really like to talk to you about moving forward, because that’s what I want. I think you do too. But I also want to give you time and space. Don’t feel embarrassed, or exposed. I really enjoyed talking to you—and I miss it.

Lisa hit send before she could second-guess herself, then dropped the phone onto the desk with shaking hands. She leaned back, eyes closed, her pulse thundering in her ears.

Carla’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced at the screen, her breath catching at the words.

She didn’t reply. Not yet. But she couldn’t bring herself to put the phone down, either.

Chapter Text

The weekend dragged by in silence. For Carla, the quiet was unbearable. Normally, she would’ve had Lisa’s steady presence in therapy, guiding her, grounding her. Then at night, there would be the excitement and desire of GreenEyedListener’s words lighting up her screen. But now, there was nothing. Just emptiness.

By Monday morning, Carla could barely pull herself out of bed. The world felt grey, hollow. Every thought seemed to circle back to Lisa—her absence like a missing limb, a phantom ache she couldn’t soothe. She carried it with her to work, through her routine, back home again. It was more than loneliness. It was like part of her had been stripped away.

That night, curled on her couch with the same blanket she’d wrapped around herself during so many late-night chats, she finally gave in. Her phone sat heavy in her hand, Lisa’s message from days ago staring back at her. Carla’s thumb hovered for a long time before she finally typed the words.

BrunetteBoss: I miss it too.

She hit send before she could think herself out of it, then immediately felt her heart race, blood rushing in her ears.

Across town, Lisa’s phone buzzed. She reached for it absently—then froze when she saw the message. I miss it too. Her breath caught sharply, eyes burning with sudden relief. Hope, raw and fragile, bloomed in her chest. Carla was still there. She hadn’t walked away completely.

Her fingers flew across the screen.

GreenEyedListener: Thank you for saying that. It means more than you know. Would you meet me again? I don’t want to push, but I really want to talk to you.

She hesitated, then added:

GreenEyedListener: My flat might be best. Quiet. Private. If you feel like screaming at me—or running away—you can. I’ll accept whatever you need.

Carla’s lips curved into a small smile as she read the messages. Lisa always had a way of making her feel safe—of easing the weight, of stripping away the pressure until she could breathe again.

Still, she didn’t reply.

On the other side of the screen, Lisa’s chest sank. The silence stung. Had she pushed too far? Come across as needy, desperate? She pressed a hand to her forehead, shaking her head at herself.

But she couldn’t stop. Not this time.

GreenEyedListener: Tomorrow. 7:00 p.m. I’ll have a glass of wine waiting for you. Think about it. You don’t have to respond. Just know I’ll be here—hoping you’ll come.

--

Carla barely slept. The hours dragged like years—wine-fueled thoughts and restless pacing filling the long, dark night. Every time she closed her eyes, she pictured Lisa. The sound of her voice. The way she said hoping you’ll come. Relentlessly analyzing every single interaction and conversation between them.

She wanted to see her. God, she did. But fear kept tangling with the want—what if it made things worse? What if seeing her in that quiet, private space made everything too real?

By morning, her decision hadn’t come any easier. Work felt like a blur of noise and meaningless tasks. Even Ryan noticed, stopping by her office to joke, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Auntie.”

She managed a weak smile. “Something like that.”

The day crawled forward. Every hour closer to seven made her pulse quicker. By the time she got home, her hands were shaking. She stood in front of her closet for what felt like forever before finally pulling out something simple—dark jeans, a soft cream sweater, and the gold necklace she always wore when she needed courage.

Across town, Lisa was just as restless. She’d cleaned her flat twice, rearranged cushions, and even changed her shirt three times before giving up and pouring herself a glass of wine. The deep red shimmered in the lamplight, matching the warmth already blooming in her chest. She’d poured Carla a glass and left it on the countertop. It made her feel more assured seeing it there, waiting.

She’d lit a candle on the small table near the sofa and set out another glass, hoping she wasn’t being foolish. Every few minutes, she checked her phone. Nothing yet.

At 6:44, a notification buzzed.

Carla: I’m coming.

Lisa’s breath caught. Relief and nerves collided in her stomach. She typed back quickly.

Lisa: Take your time. I’ll be here.

Carla stood outside Lisa’s flat at xactly 6:59, clutching her coat around her. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. She raised her hand to knock—then froze. What am I doing?

But before she could talk herself out of it, the door opened.

Lisa stood there, hair down, soft curls framing her face. No professional mask this time—just her. Jeans, a loose blouse, bare feet. The sight was disarming. Human. Warm.

For a moment, neither spoke. The air between them pulsed with everything they hadn’t said.

Lisa’s voice was soft. “Hi.”

Carla swallowed hard. “Hi.”

“Come in?”

Carla nodded, stepping past her into the familiar scent of vanilla and wine. The soft hum of a record played from somewhere in the background. Lisa had pulled all the measures in hopes to ease both their nerves, and the tension she knew there would be. Lisa gestured toward the couch.

“I poured you a glass.”

Carla accepted it with a shaky smile.

“You said you wanted to talk.”

Lisa nodded, perching on the other end of the sofa, keeping a respectful distance. “I did. I owe you an explanation. And… I need you to know none of this was ever meant to happen the way it did.”

Carla let out a humorless laugh. “You mean matching on a dating app with your client? Or the part where you knew and didn’t tell me?”

Lisa winced, the honesty cutting her open. “Both. I was stupid, Carla. I didn’t know it was you at first, I swear. I only realized when you said you’d just left therapy. And after that…” She shook her head, her voice trembling slightly. “After that, I didn’t know how to stop wanting to talk to you.”

Carla stared at her for a long moment, trying to piece together the timeline in her head. Finally, she said quietly, “I just need to know one thing, Lisa.”

Lisa nodded slowly. “Anything.”

“When you told me to download that app…” Carla hesitated, her eyes narrowing. “Did you suggest it because you wanted us to match? Because you knew what would happen?”

The question hung in the air. Thick, heavy, impossible to ignore.

Lisa’s breath caught. “No,” she said quickly, then softer, “No, that’s not why I suggested it.” She leaned forward, her voice low, careful. “I swear to you, I had no idea we would match. When I mentioned the app, I was thinking of you—how lost you seemed, how much you needed a space to feel understood. That was all.”

Carla’s eyes searched hers, uncertain. “But you were on it too.”

Lisa nodded, shame flickering across her face. “Yeah. I… downloaded it that same night, probably around the same time you did.” She let out a shaky sigh. “It wasn’t to manipulate you. It wasn’t even really about meeting anyone specific. I just—” She stopped, pressing her lips together before admitting, “I was lonely too.”

Carla blinked, the words softening something in her chest even as they twisted inside her. “Lonely.”

Lisa nodded again, more slowly this time. “I didn’t realize it at first, but I think… I think I’d started feeling something for you long before the app. I fought it. Told myself it was empathy, that I was just invested in your growth. But the truth is, I cared. I cared too much. And that scared me.”

Carla sat back, trying to absorb it all—the honesty, the vulnerability, the quiet ache in Lisa’s voice.

“So you downloaded it because of me?” she asked.

Lisa shook her head gently. “Not exactly because of you. But maybe… because of what you made me feel. It reminded me what connection felt like, and I wanted to believe I could still have that with someone. I didn’t think it would be you.”

The silence between them stretched, but it was different now—softer, charged with truth rather than tension.

“I wasn’t trying to cross a line, Carla,” Lisa added, her voice breaking a little. “But I think somewhere along the way, I did. And I hate that I hurt you.”

Carla looked down at her hands, twisting the stem of her wineglass between her fingers. “I did feel hurt,” she admitted softly. “But not… in the way you think. I don’t think I even realized how much until now.”

Lisa’s voice was quiet, almost fragile. “Tell me.”

Carla let out a long breath. “When you stopped the conversation that night—the one before we matched—I was embarrassed, yeah, but I thought you were just being careful. I didn’t really think about what that must’ve felt like for you. I was so wrapped up in my own feelings.” She paused, glancing up with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You actually did the right thing, didn’t you? You cut it off before it crossed a line.”

Lisa nodded slightly. “I had to. For both of us. I wanted to give you the choice to continue. Once you saw me.”

Carla nodded, the edge in her voice softening. She looked at Lisa, her eyes seeping into her. “I know. And still… I feel safe with you. That’s what scares me.”

Lisa’s eyes softened, her chest tightening. “Why does it scare you?”

“Because it’s not supposed to be like this,” Carla said, shaking her head, her voice trembling. “I was supposed to come to you for help, not—” She trailed off, her cheeks flushing. “Not fall for you. And after what I said… the messages… God, I exposed everything. You got to stay behind the curtain.”

For a long moment, Lisa didn’t speak. Then, quietly, she reached out and laid her hand on Carla’s thigh. The touch was gentle, careful—but the spark it sent through both of them was undeniable.

Carla froze, her breath catching. The warmth from Lisa’s fingers seeped into her skin, grounding her and setting her heart racing all at once.

Lisa’s voice broke the silence, barely above a whisper. “You’re wrong, you know. I was behind the curtain, yes—but I wasn’t untouched. I’ve felt the same. Every message, every word—it got to me too. I just couldn’t say it.”

Carla’s eyes shimmered, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came. Lisa pulled her hand back slowly, afraid she’d crossed too far, but the air between them hummed with energy.

After a long pause, Lisa gave a small smile. “Maybe we don’t have to figure everything out tonight. Maybe we just… start fresh. As friends.”

Carla blinked, then laughed softly, the tension easing just a little. “Friends,” she repeated, tasting the word like it was foreign. “Alright. But you know, since you’re not my therapist anymore…”

Lisa tilted her head, curious. “Yes?”

“…you can finally answer what you wouldn’t before,” Carla teased, her smile turning playful. “How do you relax, Lisa?”

Lisa laughed for the first time that night, the sound light and warm. “Well,” she said, pretending to think, “usually a glass of wine, maybe some music. But if I’m lucky, good company helps too.”

Carla grinned. “Good company, huh? You inviting me over again already?”

“Maybe,” Lisa said, her voice low but kind. “As a friend.”

The word hung heavy in the air. Carla’s smile faltered for a second before she masked it with a small nod. “Alright, friend,” she said softly, though her tone didn’t match the word. “I should go before I talk myself into staying.”

Lisa stood as well, walking her toward the door. “Carla…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. Carla turned, curious, and Lisa met her gaze fully. “I meant what I said about friendship—but I don’t mean pretending nothing’s here. I just… want to get to know you outside of all the therapy rules, outside of the boundaries that kept me from being honest. If feelings grow, we won’t spare ourselves from them. I just want to start in a way that’s fair. Real.”

Carla’s breath caught. The words softened something deep in her, and she nodded, her expression warming. “That sounds… right,” she admitted quietly. “Slow. Honest.”

Lisa smiled faintly. “Exactly.”

Their arms brushed as Carla moved toward the door, and the air between them seemed to hum with quiet electricity. Lisa hesitated, then opened her arms slightly, unsure. Carla didn’t even pause—she stepped into the embrace.

It was gentle at first, then deeper, lingering. The world outside the window seemed to fade as they held each other—breathing the same air, hearts beating just a little too fast.

When they finally pulled apart, Lisa’s hand lingered a second too long on Carla’s arm. Their eyes met, full of warmth and unspoken meaning.

“See you soon?” Lisa asked quietly.

Carla’s lips curved in a soft, knowing smile. “Yeah,” she whispered. “You will.”

She stepped out into the cool evening air, her pulse still racing, the scent of Lisa’s perfume clinging to her skin. As she walked away, she could still feel the ghost of Lisa’s touch on her thigh and the unspoken promise that this was only the beginning.

Chapter Text

Lisa moved through her flat in a kind of daze, still carrying the warmth of Carla’s presence like static clinging to her skin. She poured herself a glass of wine and sat by the window, letting the city lights blur outside the glass.

She kept replaying the evening—Carla’s smile, the hug that had lingered just a second too long, the look in her eyes that seemed to ask a dozen questions Lisa wasn’t sure she could answer.

Her phone sat beside her, silent. She told herself not to stare at it, not to hope. But she did.

When it finally buzzed, her heart leapt.

Carla: Just wanted to let you know I got home okay.

Lisa smiled, setting her wine down to type.

Lisa: I’m glad you did. I was hoping you’d message.

A pause, then another message from Lisa before she could stop herself:

Lisa: I’ve missed hearing from you in the night. Our chats.

She hesitated as she hit send. Too much? Too soon?

But the reply came quickly—warm and teasing.

Carla smiled at her screen, curling up under her blanket. She’d debated sending the first message at all, but she couldn’t shake the pull. Lisa had this way of grounding her and setting her on edge at the same time.

Her eyes softened as she read the reply.

Carla: Well, now that we’re friends, I see no harm in going back to some nightly conversation.

The typing dots appeared almost instantly.

Lisa: No harm at all… though I might start looking forward to bedtime for entirely new reasons.

Carla laughed, biting her lip.

Carla: You mean because you get to text me?

Lisa: Exactly. What did you think I meant?

Carla rolled her eyes, smiling.

Carla: You’re dangerous, Green Eyes.

Lisa: Only if you let me be, Brunette.

The exchange sent a pleasant heat curling through Carla’s chest. Familiar, but new. Flirtatious, but safe. The unease and anger long gone from her body as she was finally where she wanted to be; having these conversations with the woman that set these feelings off in the first place.

Carla: Okay, friend. But only if you promise not to keep me up all night like before.

Lisa: No promises. You know I have a hard time saying goodnight to you.

Carla’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, her grin spreading.

Carla: Then maybe I won’t say goodnight either.

For a moment, neither messaged.

Both women went to bed smiling that night, phones still glowing on their pillows.

--

The next morning, Carla woke up before her alarm, something that hadn’t happened in weeks. She felt… good. Light. Even her reflection in the bathroom mirror looked brighter somehow.

At Underworld, her coworkers noticed the difference immediately.

“You’re in a good mood today, Mrs. Connor” Sally teased.

Carla only smiled. “Guess I finally slept properly, Sal. Busy day!”

The day swept by in a flurry of meetings, emails, and small victories. By late afternoon, she was powering through reports when her phone buzzed.

Lisa: You forgot about me, didn’t you?

Carla frowned in confusion, then blinked at her calendar.

“Oh shit,” she muttered aloud. The therapy appointment—still sitting neatly in her schedule.

She typed quickly.

Carla: I did, didn’t I? I completely forgot that was still booked.

Lisa: Abandoned already. That didn’t take long.

Carla: Hey, that’s not fair. I didn’t abandon you.

Lisa: You kind of did. No session, no notes, no professional closure.

Carla: Oh, I definitely miss that part. You know… the part where you help me untangle the mess in my head every week.

Lisa: So you do miss me professionally then?

Carla: Professionally, yes. Personally… a bit more than I probably should.

Lisa smiled at her screen, leaning back in her office chair.

Lisa: Careful, that almost sounds like flirting.

Carla: Almost? You’re slipping, Green Eyes. You used to be better at catching it.

Lisa: I’m just trying to keep up with you, Brunette.

Carla laughed under her breath. The messages made her pulse quicken in a way she didn’t even bother denying anymore.

Lisa: Since you’re cancelling our session, maybe I can offer an alternative appointment.

Carla: Oh? Should I be worried?

Lisa: Not unless you hate fine dining and even finer company.

Carla: Hmm. I might need more details before I confirm..

Lisa: Dinner. My treat. A proper meal this time—since we missed our first one.

Carla’s fingers hovered, a smile tugging at her lips.

Carla: Ah. You mean the one where I ran out before I even sat down?

Lisa: That’s the one. I’m offering you a do-over. No running, no surprises. Just two friends getting to know each other.

Carla: You sure that’s wise? You might regret giving me a second chance.

Lisa: Something tells me you’re worth the risk.

Carla bit her lip, heart fluttering.

Carla: Okay then. But if you’re paying, I’m picking the wine.

Lisa: Deal. Just don’t order the entire bottle for yourself.

Carla: No promises. Depends how stressful the day’s been.

Lisa: Then I’ll make sure the company’s good enough to balance it out.

Carla leaned back in her chair, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. Around her, the office hummed with routine noise, but her focus lingered on the glowing thread of conversation that had become her favorite distraction.

That night, as she climbed into bed, her phone buzzed softly on the nightstand.

Lisa: Sleep well, Brunette. Big day tomorrow.

Carla: You mean dinner or seeing you again?

Lisa: Maybe both.

Carla stared at the screen, her chest tightening in that quiet, hopeful way that had become familiar.

Carla: Goodnight, Green Eyes.

She set the phone beside her pillow, still smiling to herself as the dark settled in around her. For the first time in weeks, she wasn’t anxious about what came next—just eager to see what tomorrow would bring.

Chapter Text

Carla stood before her mirror, smoothing down the fabric of her blouse for what had to be the tenth time. Her hair framed her face just the way she liked when she wanted to look put together without looking like she tried too hard.

“Dinner,” she muttered to her reflection. “Just dinner. With a friend.”

Her reflection didn’t look convinced.

Across town, Lisa stood by her bedroom window, buttoning the cuff of her navy satin shirt. Her hair was down, long, soft and silky. She’d applied a touch of makeup, barely noticeable but enough to bring warmth to her features. She checked the clock. Early. Of course. She always arrived early.

When she stepped into the restaurant, she felt an echo of déjà vu. The low hum of conversation, the faint clink of glasses, the glow of amber light—it was all achingly familiar. She was led to the same booth as before, booth six.

For a moment, she let her eyes fall closed. The air smelled faintly of red wine and oak, and she could almost hear the ghost of Carla’s voice from that night.

“Green eyes.”

Lisa froze, the words slipping through the air like a soft breeze. Slowly, she turned around.

Carla stood there, smiling—the same mixture of nerves and fondness lighting her features. “Sorry, couldn’t resist,” she said with a small, nervous laugh.

Lisa’s chest loosened. “That made my blood run cold”, she laughed with a slight eye roll.

“Sorry” Carla said, stepping closer. “Though, this time I promise not to run away.”

They both laughed, tension easing just enough for Lisa to stand and open her arms. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t forced. The hug felt… natural. Warm. Familiar.

They sat down, menus open between them, though neither was really looking.

“So,” Carla began, “this feels a bit like déjà vu, doesn’t it?”

Lisa smiled. “I thought the same when I sat down. Hopefully with a better ending.”

“I think we’re off to a good start.” Carla said, with a small, genuine smile.

Conversation flowed easier than either of them expected. They talked about everything but therapy—books, travel, favorite films, small quirks. Lisa learned that Carla loved thunderstorms but hated fireworks, that she collected old postcards, and that she’d once dreamed of becoming a journalist before life took her elsewhere.

Carla asked about Lisa’s piano playing, smiling as Lisa admitted she’d learned from her grandmother. “She wasn’t patient, but she was brilliant,” Lisa said, swirling her wine absently. “When she passed, I inherited her old upright. I don’t play often anymore, but sometimes when the world feels too heavy, I sit at it. It reminds me of her.”

“That’s… really lovely,” Carla said softly. “I envy that. Having something that connects you back.”

Lisa tilted her head. “You don’t have that?”

Carla smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Not really. A lot of my family is not here anymore. My nephew Ryan though—he’s kind of my anchor. We’re thick as thieves.”

Lisa grinned. “Ryan. The stir-fry chef?”

Carla laughed, surprised she remembered. “That’s him. The overconfident one. He keeps me young.”

“I can see that,” Lisa said, smiling softly. “You talk about him like he’s your best friend.”

“In a way, he is,” Carla admitted. “He’s the only one who gets away with teasing me.”

Lisa’s gaze softened. “I’d bet you’re a good aunt. You’ve got that kind of warmth about you.”

Carla blushed a little, brushing the compliment away with a laugh. “You’re just saying that because you’re used to analyzing people.”

“Maybe,” Lisa said, her voice teasing but gentle. “Or maybe it’s just true.”

Their conversation drifted naturally after that—about travel, their favorite restaurants, even silly topics like how neither could keep a houseplant alive for longer than a month. Every now and then, silence would stretch between them, but it never felt uncomfortable. The air between them just… hummed. Like something was waiting, quietly, for its right time.

At one point, Carla leaned back in her seat and sighed. “You know, I wasn’t sure what tonight would be like.”

Lisa smiled faintly. “And now?”

Carla met her gaze. “Well, I’m really glad that I heard you out. Sorry Lisa.”

Lisa’s heart gave a small, quiet tug. “Sorry for what?”

“For being so stubborn. For panicking when the whole time you’ve been nothing but reliable, patient”

Lisa gave her a small smile. “Carla that’s all behind us now. And besides, I was still your therapist so I know you are working your way through some thoughts and feelings.”

Carla looked away from Lisa, a blush painting her face.

As the night wound down and the plates were cleared, neither moved to leave. When they finally stood, it was slower than necessary, both lingering in the comfort of what they’d built in a few short hours.

Outside, while the women were headed off to their respective homes, Lisa reached out without thinking, brushing her hand lightly against Carla’s arm. “Text me when you’re home?”

“I will,” Carla said softly trying to hide the affect the slight touch had on her.

Lisa nodded. “Good. I—” she hesitated, a smile flickering at the corner of her lips. “I had a really nice time.”

“So did I,” Carla said. “You know, for a friend.”

Lisa chuckled, shaking her head. “Right. For a friend.”

Their hands met briefly, a small squeeze that lingered longer than it should have, before Carla turned toward the door.

“See you soon?” Lisa asked.

Carla looked over her shoulder, eyes warm. “Of course.”

The evening air was cool and crisp, but Carla barely noticed. Her skin still buzzed from where Lisa’s hand had touched her.

That night, when she finally texted—Home safe—Lisa replied almost instantly.

Lisa: Good. I was waiting for that.

Carla: You worry too much.

Lisa: Maybe. But I’d rather know you’re alright.

Carla: I am. Thank you for tonight. It meant a lot.

Lisa: It did for me too. Sleep well, Carla.

Carla: Goodnight, Green Eyes.

Chapter Text

The week flew by. Carla’s day at Underworld was packed—back-to-back meetings and the endless buzz of emails and phone calls. By the time she finally left her office, her brain felt fried. She missed the quiet. Missed the calm that came from knowing Lisa would text her at some point, some gentle message that made her chest feel less heavy.

Lisa’s day wasn’t much better. Her morning sessions had run long, one client in tears, another angry and guarded. She’d powered through lunch with a black coffee and paperwork, her head pounding by the afternoon. When she finally got home, she kicked off her shoes, poured a glass of wine, and dropped onto the sofa.

She reached for her phone out of habit. Nothing yet.

A pang of disappointment.

She shook it off, telling herself Carla was probably tired too.

--

Later that night, Carla sat curled under her blanket, hair damp from the shower, laptop still open beside her but long forgotten. The silence was too much. She opened her messages before she could talk herself out of it.

Carla: You ever get that feeling that something’s missing from your night?

Lisa smiled when she saw the text.

Lisa: Let me guess—no wine? No dessert?

Carla: No conversation. The good kind.

Lisa: Ah. I was going to give you space tonight, thought you might need it.

Carla: That was your first mistake.

Lisa chuckled softly to herself.

Lisa: Noted. I’ll try not to make it again. How was your day?

Carla: Long. Busy. Boring. I kept thinking about how much more fun it’d be if I had someone to talk to between meetings.

Lisa: You’re hinting pretty strongly there, Brunette.

Carla: Maybe. You catching on?

Lisa leaned back against her headboard, wine glass in hand. Lisa had fully planned to take this thing with Carla very slowly, to gain her trust fully, but it seemed Carla may be on a quicker pace. She felt a thrill, and decided to lean into that.

Lisa: Catching on just fine. I missed hearing from you today.

Carla smiled at the screen, heart thudding.

Carla: You did?

Lisa: I did. I might’ve checked my phone more than I’d like to admit.

Carla: Glad I’m not the only one then.

A few quiet minutes passed before Carla wrote again.

Carla: You know what’s funny? I used to dread Friday nights. Now I kind of look forward to them.

Lisa: That’s because you’re talking to the right person on them now.

Carla: Oh, confident, aren’t we?

Lisa: Should I not be?

Carla: You should be.

Carla bit her lip, staring at the screen, her stomach twisting pleasantly.The conversation slowed for a moment—comfortable silence through glowing screens.

Then Lisa typed again:

Lisa: You doing anything this weekend?

Carla: No plans. Why, are you?

Lisa: Nothing set in stone. I was thinking maybe… we could have dinner again. My place this time. Something low-key. I’ll order takeaway, you bring your favorite wine.

Carla hesitated only a moment.

Carla: That sounds dangerously close to a date.

Lisa: Then I’ll promise not to label it. Just… two friends having dinner. Off the clock. No expectations.

Carla: Friends who happen to text every night and flirt too much?

Lisa: Exactly those friends.

Carla laughed softly to herself, curling deeper into the blanket.

Carla: Alright, Green Eyes. You’ve got yourself a plan.

Lisa: Good. Tomorrow night then? 7?

Carla: I’ll be there. But if you’re ordering the takeaway, I’m picking dessert.

Lisa: Oh.. Sweet tooth and all.

Carla: ;)Goodnight, Lisa.

Lisa: Goodnight, Carla. x

Carla set her phone on her pillow again, smiling into the dark. Lisa did the same. Both lying awake longer than they’d admit, thinking about how “just dinner” already felt like something more.

Chapter Text

Saturday evening arrived faster than either of them expected.

Carla had spent the day restless — tidying things that didn’t need tidying, redoing her makeup twice, and giving herself the same pep talk in different mirrors.

It’s not a date. It’s dinner.

But her pulse never quite believed her.

When she finally got to Lisa’s building, the hallway glowed with evening light. Carla smoothed her hair, lifted her hand to knock and the door opened first.

Lisa stood there, barefoot, in soft jeans and a navy blouse that brought out the green of her eyes. Her hair fell loosely around her shoulders. She looked… devastatingly gorgeous and it made Carla’s pulse pounce.

“Right on time,” Lisa said with a faint, teasing smile. “I was half-expecting a last-minute text saying you couldn’t make it.”

Carla’s lips curved. “Please. I’m not that unreliable.”

“No,” Lisa said, leaning lightly against the doorframe. “Just fashionably unpredictable?”

Carla laughed under her breath. “Something like that.”

Lisa’s smile deepened. “Well, unpredictable looks good on you. Come in.”

She stepped aside, her tone casual, but the air between them already carried a charge.

The apartment smelled faintly of candle wax and curry. Music drifted low from a speaker — soft, sultry jazz that made the air feel slower.

Carla followed her in, trying not to stare at the way Lisa moved — unhurried, confident, like she’d never needed to try to fill a room.

Carla held up the bottle as she stepped inside. “Peace offering,” she said with a small grin.

Lisa smiled, taking it from her. “Good choice. You really came prepared.”

“I figured it’s bad manners to show up empty-handed. Especially when you’re feeding me.”

“It’s takeout,” Lisa admitted, laughing. “But if you want to pretend I cooked, I won’t correct you.”

Carla’s lips curved. “Deal.”

Lisa reached for two glasses from the counter, already uncorking the bottle. Carla watched her hands work the bottle, her blouse shifting in all the right ways. She tried not to let her stare linger.

When she handed one to Carla, their fingers brushed.

“To Saturday nights,” Lisa said, voice low.

Carla tilted her head. “To Saturday nights.”

Lisa’s grin softened, eyes flicking up to meet hers. Their eye contact unbroken as they enjoyed their first sip of wine.

Dinner stretched into something unhurried. The kind of evening that felt suspended in its own pocket of time. The plates had long gone cold, but neither of them moved to clear them.

Carla leaned back in her chair, twirling the stem of her wine glass between her fingers. “You know, I still can’t believe you remembered my favorite takeout place,” she said. “I don’t even think I mentioned it that much.”

Lisa smiled faintly. “You’d be surprised what sticks when someone’s talking and you actually listen.”

Carla grinned. “You mean when I’m talking.”

“Especially then,” Lisa said, leaning a little closer, her voice smooth but playful. “You’re memorable.”

Carla’s pulse fluttered at that, but she covered it with a laugh. “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you?”

Lisa shrugged lightly. “Maybe I’m just saying what I mean.”

The room went quiet for a heartbeat — soft jazz humming low, candlelight flickering against the glass of their half-empty wine glasses. Carla found herself watching Lisa’s hands as she spoke — graceful, expressive, but steady. They looked like hands that had built calm out of chaos a hundred times. She felt nervousness she’s never felt before, she was at a loss with how to move things forward with a woman, this woman who made her feel so safe and vulnerable, yet nervous to a point she couldn’t describe.

“Can I ask you something?”, Carl said.

“Always,” Lisa said.

Carla hesitated, her pulse picking up. “When you… realized you were attracted to women—how did you know?”

Lisa went still, her fingers circling the base of her glass. “That’s… not a small question.”

Carla’s cheeks warmed. “You don’t have to answer. I just—sometimes I feel like I’m overanalyzing everything. ”

Lisa looked at her for a long moment, then exhaled slowly. “It’s not always something you figure out. For me, it started as admiration. I’d see a woman and think she was beautiful—more than beautiful, though. It was the way she moved, or the way she laughed. I’d tell myself it was just appreciation, that I envied her confidence or her presence. But there was always… something more beneath it that I craved to figure out.”

Carla listened, eyes wide.

Lisa’s voice grew quieter, thoughtful. “Eventually, I stopped trying to intellectualize it. I realized that what I felt when I looked at a woman wasn’t envy—it was attraction. Connection. Curiosity. And once I let myself acknowledge that, I couldn’t unsee it.” She gave a faint, almost shy smile. “When I was with one for the first time, it wasn’t about comparison anymore. It was just… peace. Like I’d finally stopped pretending.”

Carla’s breath caught, her chest tight. “That sounds… really certain.”

Lisa nodded. “It was. The feelings I had, or the thoughts in my mind... when it happened it was so much better than imagination. Everything made sense”

Carla sat back, processing. “I keep wondering if that’s what this is for me—if it’s real, or if I’m just imagining it because it’s new.”

Lisa leaned forward slightly, her expression warm and steady. “It’s real because you feel it. You don’t have to justify that. You don’t have to rush to name it, either. Sometimes it just starts as a spark.”

Her hand rested gently on Carla’s leg, a grounding gesture, her thumb brushing once in reassurance. There was that spark.

Carla’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Like that?”

Lisa’s eyes softened. She didn't say anything.

The room went quiet. Carla’s heartbeat thudded in her ears. “How do you feel right now?” she asked, barely audible.

Lisa’s answer came after a pause. “Like I still want to take this slow,” she said softly. “But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t drawn to you. More than I should be.”

Carla’s lips parted. “Drawn to me?”

Lisa’s gaze didn’t waver. “Completely.”

Neither of them moved for a long moment. The only sound was the low hum of the music still playing in the background.

Finally, Carla smiled—small, nervous, genuine. “That’s… good to know.”

Lisa turned slightly toward her, voice low but clear.

“Talk to me, Carla,” she said. “You’ve been holding something in all night. What’s still sitting there?”

Carla’s fingers tightened on her glass. “You,” she said finally, almost whispering. “You haven’t left my mind since the first week I came to see you. I kept telling myself it was just therapy, that you made me feel safe because that’s what you’re supposed to do.

But it’s not just that. It hasn’t been for a while.”

Lisa’s breath caught, the words lodging somewhere between surprise and something that felt dangerously like relief. “Carla…”

“I know,” Carla rushed on. “It’s complicated. And I don’t want to make things harder for you. But I can’t pretend I haven’t thought about what it’d be like to just—” She stopped herself, cheeks burning. “To stop overthinking it.”

Lisa smiled faintly. “You’re allowed to say it. You’re allowed to want something.”

Carla swallowed, her throat dry.

Lisa stared back at her, the tension making their hearts pound in their chests.

Lisa crossed to the upright piano against the far wall, the wood catching the dim light of the lamps. She poured them each another splash of wine, then sat, flexing her hands as if she hadn’t played in years.

“It’s the only thing that calms me down when my mind won’t stop,” she said softly. “Helps me listen instead of think.”

Carla sat back on the couch, watching the movement of Lisa’s shoulders, the way her fingers hovered above the keys before pressing down. The first notes were low and tentative, then built into something quiet and aching.

She couldn’t look away. Each small movement drew her in—the tilt of Lisa’s head, the way her hair brushed her jaw, the focus in her eyes. There was something raw in the sound, something that made Carla’s chest tighten.

Lisa glanced over noticing Carla staring, meeting her gaze for just a second before looking back at the keys.

As Lisa continued to play, Carla rose slowly, moving until she stood just behind her. The music wavered; Lisa missed a note, then another.

Carla said softly, “Nervous?”

Lisa laughed under her breath. “A little.”

Carla’s hand hovered near her shoulder, barely brushing the fabric of her blouse. “Good,” she whispered. “Means I’m not the only one.”

Lisa continued playing, while Carla’s hands continued to gently rest on her shoulders slowly moving down her arms. She swept her light curls to the side brushing her neck with her fingers as she did. This sent a jolt of electricity through Lisa. She leaned down and gently kissed Lisa’s neck.

Lisa let her hands rest on the final chord, letting it fade. Carla sat next to her on the bench looking at her as she finished. Lisa turned slightly, moving in to brush her lips against Carla’s. The lightest touch, but sent Carla’s world on fire. The kiss lasted only a few seconds, and when it ended they rested their foreheads together.

Lisa’s voice came quieter now, careful. “Carla, I meant what I said before—I want to take this slow. I want to go at your pace, and make sure this is what you want.”

Carla nodded, eyes glimmering. “Slow’s fine,” she said softly. “I just needed to know it’s real.”

Lisa smiled, the kind of smile that started in the eyes. “It’s real.”

Chapter Text

Carla’s skin still tingled from Lisa’s scent, touch, and goodbye kiss. She lingered in her doorway longer than she meant to, hand pressed against her chest, her heartbeat refusing to calm.

She changed into something comfortable, but sleep was a lost cause. The air felt too still. Her thoughts, too loud.

Lisa’s phone lit up on the table, as if it had been waiting for her to reach for it.

Carla: My thoughts are running wild since I got home.

A pause — then three dots blinked on the screen.

Lisa: Care to share?

Carla bit her lip, smiling at her own reflection in the dark window. She hesitated, but honesty had always come easier with Lisa.

Carla: I can’t stop thinking about your hands. The way you would touch me. The way we fit together when you leaned in. How those curves would feel pressed down on mine with no barriers.

Carla: It’s making me feel… I can’t describe it.

Lisa felt a jolt through her lower stomach. It took a few seconds before Lisa replied.

Lisa: Would you like for me to tell you what I’ve been thinking of… or wait until I can show you?

Carla’s stomach flipped. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Carla: I want the anticipation.

Carla: But maybe… a little tease wouldn’t hurt.

The next message came slower, deliberate.

Lisa: If you were here, I’d come up behind you without a word. My hands would find your waist first, tracing the places that makes your breath catches. I’d wait—just long enough for you to turn toward me—and see if you’d stop me.

Lisa: But I don’t think you would.

Carla’s breath hitched. She closed her eyes, imagining every word, every movement. She wanted to touch herself, the feeling unbearable, but she needed it to be Lisa touching her. She wouldn’t settle for anything less.

Carla: Lisa… please.

Carla: Why didn’t we extend our date? (she asked somewhat joking, but hoping for an invitation.

Lisa: You are welcome to come back. I’d want nothing more, but not at the cost of your comfort.

There it is. That was all the invitation she needed.

Her body moved before her mind could catch up — a blur of nervous energy and certainty. She fixed her makeup in the mirror, ran a comb through her hair, changed into something she knew she looked good in — not for show, but for confidence. The kind she wanted Lisa to see.

Her hands trembled as she grabbed her keys. The drive felt endless and too short all at once.

Lisa heard the soft sounds of her pacing outside her door. She could feel her hesitancy and nervousness through the door.

She opened the door before Carla could knock.

“Carla,” she said gently, voice steady but eyes betraying her surprise. “If you’re not ready, we can slow down, darling. We don’t have to—”

She didn’t finish.

Carla stepped forward and caught her by the collar, pulling her in until their bodies met. The kiss was instant — hungry, certain, and full of everything they’d been trying not to feel.

Lisa froze for a breath, then melted into it, her hands finding Carla’s back, holding her close. The kiss deepened, no hesitation now, only the reciprocation of pure desire.

When they finally broke apart, Carla’s breath came in soft, trembling bursts.

“I want you, Lisa,” she whispered, forehead resting against hers. “All of you. I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Lisa’s thumb brushed Carla’s cheek before she kissed her again—slow, deliberate—her tongue tracing Carla’s bottom lip in a silent request. She tasted desire there, need, the kind that made her pulse thrum. She needed to feel all of Carla tonight. To learn her. To savor her.

She held Carla’s face for a moment longer, grounding them both, her expression softening.

“Come here,” she whispered.

She guided Carla inside with a steady hand at the small of her back, the door clicking shut behind them.

Carla swallowed. “I don’t want to mess anything up,” she admitted, her voice barely a breath.

Lisa stepped close until their foreheads nearly touched. Her voice dropped into a warm, certain murmur.

“You won’t. You couldn’t. I know this is new for you and I want to make it easy to trust what you’re feeling. To trust me.”

The certainty in her tone made Carla’s knees weaken.

Lisa traced a fingertip along Carla’s jaw, then down the curve of her throat—unhurried, not taking, simply learning her. It made Carla feel weightless, seen in a way that made her whole body warm.

“You already feel everything,” Lisa whispered, almost to herself. “I can tell. Every little breath.”

Carla’s lips parted. Lisa smiled—the kind of soft, knowing smile that promised she’d take care of every fragile uncertainty without making her feel fragile at all.

“I want you to let yourself unravel,” Lisa murmured. “Not for me. For you.”

Carla shivered, breath catching.

Lisa’s hands settled around her waist, firm and grounding, drawing her close enough for Carla to feel the warmth of her body, the intention behind every inch. Lisa knew exactly what she was doing and exactly how she wanted Carla to feel.

“Tell me what you need,” she whispered against Carla’s temple. “I’ll follow your pace.”

Carla leaned into her, voice trembling but certain.

“I need you to show me everything you’ve been thinking about. Show me what I haven’t even imagined yet.”

Lisa exhaled slowly. Then she let Carla’s coat slip from her shoulders, falling to the floor. Her scarf followed. She wanted to take her time, but there was a wild, urgent part of her aching to dive into Carla headfirst.

When Carla looked at her—really looked—Lisa’s heart stuttered. She’d never been looked at like that before. Like someone falling, and trusting the person they were falling toward.

Lisa smiled gently as she brushed her fingers across Carla’s lips. Carla closed her eyes, leaning into the touch, her tongue flicking out against Lisa’s skin—an unspoken invitation.

That she wanted to explore this intimacy with Lisa and didn’t want to stop.

“Can I take this off?” Lisa asked, so softly it made Carla ache.

Carla could only nod. She would let this woman do anything.

Without breaking eye contact, Lisa lifted Carla’s blouse, slowly revealing her. Her hands skimmed along Carla’s arms, her waist, her stomach, sending shivers through her. She traced just beneath the fabric covering Carla’s chest, feeling the pounding of her heart—and the answering ache in her own body. What simmered between them was unlike anything either woman had ever felt.

Carla kissed her again—urgent, surprising—pressing Lisa back a step. Lisa cupped Carla’s face, returning the kiss with equal hunger.

“No one has ever kissed me like this,” Carla whispered breathlessly. “What are you doing to me?”

She grabbed Lisa’s face again and kissed her deeper, her tongue sweeping over Lisa’s bottom lip before giving it a teasing bite. With her other hand, she curled her fingers into the loops of Lisa’s pants.

“Can I feel you, Lisa?” she asked, barely waiting for an answer as she closed her eyes and let her hands glide up beneath Lisa’s shirt. She took her time, exploring everything she’d fantasized about for weeks. She knew she wouldn’t be satisfied until she felt every part of Lisa—nothing between them, skin to skin.

They both paused for a breath. They had all night, and they both knew it.

Lisa saw the want in Carla’s eyes—the trust too—and she understood exactly what Carla needed next. Without a word, she unbuttoned her own shirt. Carla watched her with a look of awe, as if seeing something sacred, something she’d only dreamed about.

Lisa took her hand gently, lacing their fingers.

“Come with me,” she said.

And she guided Carla toward the bed.

Chapter Text

Lisa could feel Carla’s excitement and anticipation sizzling from her skin. She brushed a strand of hair from Carla’s face, her hand drifting down to the button of Carla’s pants.

“Can I take these off?” she asked—soft, but edged with something rough that made Carla shiver.

Carla nodded, already desperate to feel Lisa everywhere.

When the pants came away, Carla was laid out in the most gorgeous black bra and panties—her panties just sheer enough in the front to make Lisa’s mouth water. Lisa traced her fingertip along the waistband, watching every flicker of reaction.

Before she could tease further, Carla grabbed her arm and tugged her down on top of her. Lisa caught herself with a hand on the mattress beside her head.

Carla slid her hand up Lisa’s back and pulled her fully against her. “I told you I need to feel you,” she murmured, then kissed her—deep, hungry, stealing the breath right from her lungs. Lisa never wanted it to stop.

As they kissed, Carla’s fingers hovered at the clasp of Lisa’s bra.

“You can take it off if you want,” Lisa whispered.

Carla didn’t hesitate. She unhooked it in one smooth motion.

Lisa raised a brow. “What? I own a factory, Lisa,” Carla teased, laughing. Lisa joined her, warmth fluttering in her chest.

Carla eased the straps down and took her in—slowly, reverently. The sight alone made her throb. She couldn’t believe the effect Lisa’s body had on her after all this time.

Lisa pressed down against her, making Carla gasp. “A woman’s body feels good, doesn’t it?” she teased.

“More than I ever imagined,” Carla breathed as her hands slipped under Lisa’s pants, cupping her ass, feeling the shape of the underwear she wore. She was already soaked, already struggling to hold herself together.

Her hands had pushed Lisa’s pants down far enough that she whispered, “Take them off. Lisa.”

Lisa slid off the bed and dropped her pants, kicking them away from her ankles. Carla sat up, watching her with open awe. There she was—breasts bare, a black pair of high-waisted thongs hugging her hips. Carla wanted to pounce, toss her on the bed, rip them off and ravish every inch of her.

Instead, she reached out and hooked a finger into the front of Lisa’s thong, pulling her in. Lisa leaned over her, arms resting around Carla’s neck. Carla looked up, breath catching, as she slid the last piece of clothing down Lisa’s legs. Finally—there she was. All of her.

Carla stood abruptly and stripped, tossing every barrier aside. She was just about to pull Lisa onto the bed when Lisa stopped her gently, turned her to face the mattress, and pressed her body against Carla’s back. Carla felt the soft weight of her breasts, the heat of her center against her ass.

Lisa’s arms wrapped around her front. One hand rose to pinch Carla’s nipple softly. Her other hand skimmed her stomach, her hips, her sides—touching everywhere, claiming everywhere.

“How does that feel?” Lisa asked.

Carla tilted her head, unable to form a single word.

Lisa took the moment to kiss her neck—once, twice, a third time—slow and lingering.

“Mmm,” Carla moaned, reaching back to touch as much of Lisa’s skin as she could, tracing up her sides, dipping into her hips. Lisa took a fistful of Carla’s hair, pulling gently to expose more of her neck for her mouth.

Carla felt Lisa’s wetness warm her thigh, and it made her knees weak. “Press yourself on me, Lisa,” she whispered, voice thick with need.

“I am, baby.”

“No—I mean… I can feel how turned on you are. Press yourself on me.”

Lisa shifted, opening her legs just enough to slide herself along Carla’s ass and the back of her thigh. The skin-on-skin contact made both of them inhale sharply.

Then Lisa guided Carla down onto the bed again, easing her onto her back. Tonight, she wanted to worship her.

Carla propped herself up on the pillow, giving Lisa full access. Lisa kissed her gently, then began her slow descent. She touched every part of Carla’s body—enough to tease, enough to build, but she wanted to taste her. Wanted proof of everything that had built between them tonight.

Carla’s breathing deepened as Lisa moved lower. She watched her, bracing herself, ready to lose every bit of control.

Lisa skipped past the place Carla expected and instead kissed along the inside of her thighs, dragging her lips, her fingers, from ankle to inner thigh. Carla’s body trembled under her.

When Lisa finally looked up, Carla was staring down at her—wide-eyed, undone.

Without breaking eye contact, Lisa kissed her center—soft, deliberate.

Carla gasped, arching.

“Please, Lisa,” she begged.

Lisa smirked, then dragged her tongue from Carla’s entrance to her clit in one slow stroke. Carla’s whole body shifted closer, desperate for more.

Lisa gripped her hips, pulling her in. She alternated between sucking her clit and licking long stripes, savoring every sound Carla made. Every twitch of her body.

“You’re so wet, Carla. You taste so fucking good.”

Carla moaned loudly, her hands in Lisa’s hair.

Lisa slipped her tongue inside her, and Carla jerked up from the bed at the sudden shock of pleasure.

“Keep fucking me with your tongue… oh my god… Lisa, I’m going to cu—”

Lisa doubled down. She could feel it—Carla tensing, contracting, trembling. She held her firmly, mouth sealed to her as Carla broke apart, riding the wave hard.

When Carla finally slowed, she was limp, spent, breathless. Nothing in her life had ever felt like this.

Lisa climbed back up the bed, and Carla pulled her into a fierce kiss.

“You like how good you taste?” Lisa teased.

Carla closed her eyes. “Lisa… that was incredible. There’s so much I want to do with you.” She began to move downward, but Lisa stopped her gently.

“Relax. Let me hold you. Enjoy this. There’s no rush for you to do anything tonight. This is all new for you, Carla—I want you to take it all in. We have time. I’m not going anywhere.”

Carla beamed. She wanted more with Lisa—more than sex or flirting or experimentation. She wanted nights cooking dinner, sharing wine, playing games, laughing in bed. She knew she was getting ahead of herself, but she also knew the truth: she wanted all of her.

They lay together for several minutes, kissing softly, playing with each other’s hands and hair, talking quietly between breaths.

“What do you like?” Carla asked.

“What do you mean?” Lisa said.

“In bed. What do you like most?”

Lisa smiled. “Slow. Sensual. I like when I can feel every kiss, every touch. Don’t get me wrong—there’s a time for letting the passion take over. But I love the intimacy. I love feeling your body on mine. It doesn’t take much for me. The slightest thing gets me there.”

Carla looked at her like she had hung the stars. “Not making this easy for me, are you?”

Lisa laughed softly. “Carla, I don’t need you to prove anything. I’m already turned on by you. Anything you do will drive me crazy. Watching you come almost did it for me too.”

“Oh? Is that right?” Carla murmured, sliding her hand down Lisa’s torso. She grazed her fingers over Lisa’s center, feeling how soaked she was. “Lisa… you’re dripping.”

Lisa sucked in a breath as Carla eased a fingertip inside. Then a little more. Then fully. Carla’s own breath hitched.

“I’ve been dying to know how you feel. How you taste,” Carla whispered, earning a low moan from Lisa.

Carla sat up, pulling Lisa between her thighs, her back to Carla’s chest. She guided Lisa’s legs apart, cradling her. One arm wrapped around her torso; the other slid down to explore her—stroking, dipping inside, circling.

Lisa let her head fall back against Carla’s shoulder as Carla’s other hand cupped her breast. Carla loved her like this—open, trembling, all hers to touch.

Lisa’s body tightened in small waves. Carla knew exactly what every twitch meant.

“Are you close, baby?” she whispered into her ear. “Tell me what you want.”

“I need you to leave your fingers in me. Don’t move them.”

Confused but obedient, Carla held her hand still.

Lisa moved her own body instead—sliding up and down on Carla’s fingers, slow but deliberate.

Carla nearly moaned at the feeling, stunned by how erotic it was. Their eyes met, and the moment their gazes locked, Lisa broke—contracting hard around her fingers, soaking her hand as Carla pressed her thumb to Lisa’s clit, helping her ride the wave.

Lisa trembled through every second before collapsing back against her.

Carla slowly slid her fingers out and lifted them to her lips. Lisa’s breath caught as she watched her tongue wrap around them, tasting her thoroughly.

Lisa leaned in and kissed her, their mouths mixing tastes and breath and heat.

“That was incredible,” Lisa whispered. “Stay with me tonight?”

Carla smiled and wrapped her arms around her. “Of course.” They curled together and drifted to sleep, warm and content.

Just before Lisa fell asleep, Carla laughed. “Should I tell my therapist about this?”

Lisa nudged her. “She might get jealous knowing how good of an orgasm you gave.”

Chapter Text

Morning came softly, and Carla woke to the overwhelming, beautiful scent of Lisa’s hair. It was everywhere—warm, sweet, smelling faintly of cherries. When Carla fully surfaced, she realized Lisa’s back was pressed flush against her front, their bodies still naked and tangled from everything they’d done the night before. Lisa’s hair spilled across Carla’s face like silk, and Carla breathed her in, tightening her arms around her without thinking.

Contentment washed over her, and she drifted back to sleep.

About an hour later, Lisa stirred, still wrapped in Carla’s hold. Carla woke immediately, already in that lighter state of half-sleep that comes after waking once before. Lisa turned slowly to face her.

“Hey,” she said softly, her gaze dropping to Carla’s lips.

Carla didn’t hesitate. She kissed her.

“Hey,” she murmured back.

Lisa studied her for a moment, thoughts visibly swirling. “Last night was amazing, Carla. I’ve never felt like that before.”

Carla smiled, relief loosening something deep in her chest. Lisa snuggled closer, then hesitated.

“So… it’s something you like then?” she asked quietly. “Being with a woman… being with me?”

Carla lifted a hand, brushing Lisa’s hair back and tucking it behind her ear. “I never want this to stop,” she said honestly. “I never want to leave this bed. And I hope this isn’t too forward, but I don’t see this as a test or something casual. My feelings for you are very real. I want us to be something.”

“I want that too,” Lisa said without hesitation.

A comfortable silence settled between them.

“Does that mean—” Lisa started, then stopped herself.

Carla grinned. “No, no. Finish. Does that mean what? I can almost guarantee the answer’s yes.”

Lisa smiled, a little shy. “Does that mean… you’re my girlfriend?”

Carla’s breath caught—surprised, but happily so. “I’d love nothing more.”

They kissed again, slow and deep, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms.

“I’m going to make you breakfast,” Lisa said at last. “You stay right here until it’s ready.”

Carla laughed and hopped out of bed behind her. “I’m following you. I want to watch.”

They each slipped into satin robes—Carla in red, Lisa in brown—and headed to the kitchen. The sight of Lisa like this made Carla weak: her confidence, her home, her taste in everything from clothing to scents to food. It all seeped into Carla’s veins. She was falling hard.

Lisa started the coffee first, moving easily around the kitchen. She handed Carla a steaming mug—black, just a little sugar, foam on top.

“To keep you entertained,” she said.

Carla smirked. “Oh, I already have all the entertainment I need.”

Lisa shot her a mischievous glance and got to work on breakfast—omelettes loaded with all the fixings, bacon, toast, fruit, potatoes, even sliced tomatoes. Carla watched, mesmerized, until she couldn’t resist anymore. She left the table and wrapped her arms around Lisa’s waist while she had a moment free.

Lisa leaned back into her, resting her hands over Carla’s. Carla stole a glance down her robe and slipped a finger inside, nudging it open.

“Cheeky,” Lisa laughed, swatting her hand away.

“You have me hungry for more than breakfast,” Carla murmured.

“All good things will come,” Lisa said firmly. “But right now, missy, you’re going to sit down and enjoy this breakfast.”

Carla grinned, gave Lisa a playful smack on the bum, and returned to her seat. “You know,” she added, “I love you in brown.”

“Thank you,” Lisa said, setting the plates down.

Carla took one bite and nearly moaned. “Lisa… this is incredible.”

Lisa smiled proudly. Acts of service, Carla realized—Lisa liked taking care of people.

“A therapist, a chef, great in bed,” Carla teased, leaning over to kiss her. “So many surprises.”

“Just great?” Lisa teased back.

“Well,” Carla shrugged, “I’d have to do it a lot more to be sure.”

Lisa’s foot slid up Carla’s leg, her big toe slipping between her thighs and sending a jolt of electricity through her. They finished eating slowly, teasing each other the whole time. When the plates were finally cleared, they sat together in the warm morning light, sipping coffee in comfortable silence.

Then Carla stood abruptly, urgency written all over her face.

Lisa frowned. “What—”

Carla straddled her lap before she could finish, her robe falling open at the top and bottom. She kissed down Lisa’s neck, pushing her robe apart with her mouth as she moved lower.

“I can’t get enough of you,” Carla breathed.

Lisa’s hands gripped Carla’s lower back and ass, pulling her closer. Their kisses turned hungry.

“I told you I was hungry for you,” Carla smirked.

Lisa tangled a hand in the back of Carla’s neck, and Carla began to grind slowly against her thighs, biting her lip as her head fell back. Lisa loosened the robe belt, letting it fall open. She latched onto Carla’s nipple, looking up at her as she moaned softly.

Then it happened—fast and unexpectedly. Carla came hard, barely moving, barely touching enough to usually tip her over, but something inside her gave way completely.

Lisa froze for half a second, then pressed her down harder, amplifying the sensation. She could feel the wetness through Carla’s panties against her skin.

“Oh, baby… that was so hot,” Lisa murmured.

Carla finally came back to herself, breathless and flushed. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Watching you lose it like that turned me on so much,” Lisa admitted.

“Come shower with me,” Carla said.

“Well, you’ll have to get off my lap first,” Lisa teased. “Unless you want me to carry you.”

Carla smiled and slid off slowly, letting her robe fall to the floor, leaving only her soaked underwear. Lisa’s jaw nearly followed.

“God, you’re killing me,” Lisa groaned.

Carla stepped out of her underwear and tossed them into Lisa’s lap. Lisa caught them, feeling the evidence of Carla’s surprise orgasm still warm in her hands. Carla turned and headed quickly toward the bathroom, hoping—knowing—Lisa would follow.

Lisa did. She caught up in the hallway, slamming Carla gently but firmly against the wall. Carla braced herself with her palms as Lisa’s hands roamed over her from behind, slipping inside easily, drawing another helpless sound from her.

Carla reached back, undoing Lisa’s robe and letting it slide from her shoulders. Then she turned, still pinned, and dropped into a squat, face level with Lisa’s thighs. Her hands gripped Lisa’s backside as she pulled her closer and ran her tongue slowly through her folds, tasting her, growing wetter by the second.

Carla stopped suddenly, desire darkening her eyes. She took Lisa’s hand.

“Come on,” she said. “I want to do this while I watch the water run down your body.”

Lisa’s skin erupted in goosebumps as they moved together toward the shower.

Chapter Text

Carla wasted no time continuing where they’d left off in the hallway.

The look they gave each other in the shower was all-consuming as Carla slowly guided Lisa beneath the running water. Lisa’s hair quickly darkened, droplets sliding down her face, and Carla followed one with her finger before hooking her thumb gently at Lisa’s bottom lip.

She kissed her then, rough and sure, holding her face in both hands, her fingers threading through her wet hair. Lisa pulled Carla closer so she could feel the water too.

They stood together beneath the showerhead now, Carla lifting both of Lisa’s arms and pinning them above her against the tiled wall. She kissed her way down Lisa’s body, covering every inch of skin but moving quickly, intent on returning to where she’d been before. She could feel how much more open Lisa was now, how much wetter than she’d been in the hallway.

With Lisa’s hands still gripping the wall, Carla lifted one of her legs over her shoulder. Looking up at her as she did, she pressed in close, and Lisa threw her head back. Lisa placed her hand on Carla’s wet hair, guiding her closer. The sight of Carla—soaked, bare, and looking up at her was too much. Lisa came hard against her as Carla held her there, hands firm on her, watching the water run down Lisa’s stomach and drip onto her tongue.

Carla barely waited for Lisa to come down before rising to kiss her again. They kissed slowly this time, deeply, the water sliding between them. Carla turned Lisa so her back faced her, then reached for the body wash and rubbed it between her palms. Gently, carefully, she smoothed it over Lisa’s shoulders, her neck, making her shiver. Her hands traveled down her back, then lower as she knelt to work the soap over her thighs, taking her time, missing nothing. When her fingers brushed Lisa’s centre she could feel how sensitive she still was—warm, open, responsive—but Carla didn’t linger. She wanted to take care of her now.

Lisa was covered in suds when Carla faced her and wrapped her arms around her, feeling it on her own skin. They held each other there in silence, breathing, letting it turn into something softer and deeper. Carla could feel her heart pound with these feelings for Lisa. Lisa could feel Carla’s heart starting to race. Still slick with water and soap, she slipped her leg between Carla’s, giving her something to move against.

Carla tightened her arms around her as soon as she felt it. Slowly she began to grind against Lisa’s thigh, the slick sound of soap and skin filling the space between them. She imagined how it must look, and the thought made her move with more urgency.

“That’s it, baby,” Lisa murmured, making Carla moan against her ear.

Lisa felt how intense Carla had become and lowered one hand from her waist to her hip, guiding her closer, bone to bone.
“Stop,” Carla said suddenly.

Lisa’s heart dropped. Confused, embarrassed, and disappointed all at once, she looked at her in alarm.
“I need to get into bed with you. Now.”

They left the shower soaking wet, towels forgotten, racing into the room. In seconds they were on the bed, Carla gently pushing Lisa onto her back. She lifted her leg and pressed herself against her, fully now. Lisa moaned at the instant contact of their slick bodies. Carla found a rhythm, moving easily with the water and their own heat, growing faster and more desperate as she watched Lisa beneath her. She looked down at the way they fit together, and then it hit her. She slowed, pressing as deep as she could, and Carla's pulse so thick in her centre, Lisa felt her pulse against her, tipping her right over with her. They cried out together.

Carla collapsed beside her, both of them breathless and laughing, completely spent.

--

Monday morning came, pulling them back into reality.

Carla woke smiling and headed to the factory.

“Ms. Connor, I’ve never seen you look this happy,” Sean said.

“Cheers, Sean. Back to work.” She heard the whispers but couldn’t stop smiling.

Lisa was the same at her clinic, distracted, Carla constantly in her thoughts. She hadn’t felt this alive in a long time. Around 11:30 she grabbed a snack and checked her phone. Carla had messaged.

Hey Dr. Swain. Thought I’d give you a feelings update—I’m jealous of everyone who gets to sit on your couch today.

Lisa laughed softly and replied.
Yeah, well I’m jealous you’re touching knickers that aren’t mine.

Carla’s phone buzzed during her meeting and the message went straight through her.

“Wow,” Sarah said. “Someone must be important.”

“Oh, just Ry,” Carla lied, smiling far too much.

Afterward she replied:

Well… I’ll gladly touch yours anytime.

Lisa’s reply came fast.

If you’re not sick of me yet, I’d love to see you tonight.

Never, Carla wrote. When do you want me?

All the time. Whenever you can.

--

Carla opened the door to Lisa’s and saw her standing there with her hair pinned back, a few loose strands framing her face perfectly. The sleeves of her white long-sleeve were pushed up, she wore jeans, no socks, and her toes were painted a soft milkshake-pink. She looked indescribable as she moved around the kitchen, cooking. Carla paused, simply staring.

Lisa glanced over and smiled.

“Hey, you alright?” she asked.

Carla nodded.

Lisa crossed the room with a forkful of risotto, holding her other hand beneath it as she brought it to Carla’s mouth, watching her take the bite.

“Mmm, Lisa. This is delicious.”

Lisa kissed her then. “Yes it is,” she said with a teasing smile.

Carla continued to watch her as she returned to the stovetop. She suddenly felt unusually nervous and slid into one of the island chairs.

“How was your day?” she asked.

“Yeah. It was good. Pretty busy.”

Carla nodded, uncertain of herself, not quite knowing how to act in Lisa’s presence for some reason. Her feelings for this woman was growing faster by the minute.

“How was yours?” she followed up.

“Yeah. Same. Another day at the factory,” Carla laughed nervously.

Lisa turned toward her. “To be honest, I had a hard time focusing.”

Carla gathered a bit of courage, hoping she was the reason.

“Oh yeah? How come?”

“You are on my mind. All the time,” Lisa admitted.

Carla smiled, the look she gave her nearly knocking her off her feet. She had to brace herself with both hands on the counter. She stepped closer, placing them gently on Lisa’s waist. In the silence between them, their eye contact made Lisa throb. Carla leaned in slowly, her lips hovering just above Lisa’s, drawing out the tension.

Finally, Lisa kissed her, breathing her in.

“I know the feeling,” Carla murmured.

Their hands began to move over each other just as the oven timer went off.

“Better check the chicken,” Lisa whispered.

“Check that chicken,” Carla replied, giving her bum a playful squeeze as Lisa turned.

After Lisa declined Carla’s offers to help a few times, Carla settled into a chair at the table while Lisa set a beautiful meal in front of her, topping off her glass with red wine. Carla looked at her like she was an angel. They ate together, laughing about their day, the conversation flowing easily.

“Lisa, that was delicious.”

Lisa smiled proudly. “Glad you liked it.”

“What would you like to do this evening?” she asked.

“I’m quite content just being with you. Maybe we can watch some telly.”

Lisa smiled and nodded.

They cleared the dishes together and moved to the couch with their wine. Carla noticed Lisa shifting, trying to get comfortable.

“You okay?” Carla asked.

"Yeah, yeah. I spent a lot of today on the computer doing catch up on notes.", Lisa admitted.

Carla gestured her over towards her. "Come here"

“You sure?” Lisa asked, not wanting to impose.

“Course. Come here. I’ve been told I’m really good at massage.”

Lisa didn’t argue.

Carla gently brushed Lisa’s hair to one side and began working on her shoulders. She could see Lisa melting under her touch.

“Does that feel good?” Carla asked with a lower voice.

Lisa twitched slightly.
“You okay?” Carla asked again.

“Sorry. Feeling your fingers on my neck, and hearing your voice like that… it made me shiver,” Lisa admitted.

Carla smiled, quietly pleased at the effect she was having. She moved closer, continuing to knead her shoulders as Lisa relaxed further into her hands.

“That feels so good, Carla. I could stay here for days,” Lisa laughed.

“I can even do your back if you like,” Carla offered.

Lisa opened her eyes, curious, and turned to face her.

“Tell you what. Take your shirt off—and whatever else you feel comfortable taking off—and lie down on the couch.”

“Oh, Carla, you don’t have to do that,” Lisa said.

“Let me take care of you. Besides, I like doing this.”

Who was Lisa to argue?

Chapter Text

As Lisa shifted beneath her and lifted her top, Carla instinctively reached out, ready to pull her back down against her body. She stopped herself at the last second. This wasn’t about urgency, not tonight. This was for Lisa. She wanted to make her feel good in a slower, more deliberate way, something that lingered.

Carla straddled Lisa’s hips, settling over her comfortably, and poured oil into her palms, rubbing her hands together until it warmed. When she placed them on Lisa’s back, she took a moment to really feel her—strong muscles beneath soft skin, the subtle tension she carried without realizing it. From this position, Carla could lean into the massage, letting her body weight do some of the work. Her hands moved steadily across Lisa’s back, over her shoulders, down her arms, and every so often dipped just enough to brush the undersides of her breasts.

Lisa’s quiet moans floated up to her, low and unguarded, and the sound sent a deep throb through Carla’s body. She squeezed her thighs together, trying to relieve some of the pressure building inside her, but Lisa noticed immediately. A hand reached back, fingers grazing Carla’s leg where it wrapped around her, an unspoken response that said she felt it too—she liked it.

Carla leaned down, her lips close to Lisa’s ear, her voice soft. As one hand slid toward the waistband of Lisa’s jeans, she whispered, “Can I massage here?”

She felt Lisa shiver beneath her before she even answered. Lisa began to push herself up, moving to take off her underwear for her, but Carla gently stopped her. Lisa didn’t question it. Instead, she settled back down onto her stomach, trusting, open, letting Carla guide what came next.

Carla repositioned herself, sitting a little lower this time, giving herself better access. She began again at Lisa’s back, slow and grounding, before moving her hands down to her bum, kneading the generous curve of her with practiced pressure. It took everything in her not to dig her nails in, not to kiss or bite, but she stayed focused—deep strokes, firm palms, working the muscles beneath the skin.

She wanted to hear Lisa lose herself.

And soon enough, she did. Lisa moaned nearly every time Carla’s hands moved. Carla worked down the backs of her thighs, behind her knees, then back up again, each pass drawing another sound from her. As she did, Carla caught sight of the telltale sheen between Lisa’s thighs—high enough to stay hidden, but unmistakable.

The sight sent a sharp, aching pulse of arousal through her.

Knowing how wet she’d made Lisa only fueled her. Carla grasped the waistband of the underwear she’d insisted Lisa keep on, pulling the fabric tight and pressing it up along her center, giving her just a hint of the relief she was craving. Lisa moaned louder, her legs instinctively spreading a little wider, silently asking for more.

“Would you like to turn over?” Carla murmured.

Lisa didn’t hesitate. Once Carla shifted off her, Lisa rolled onto her back on the couch and immediately reached for Carla, her hands sliding up to grasp her sides. Carla smiled down at her, taking in the way Lisa looked like this—open, flushed, undone.

“Are you comfortable?” she asked.

Lisa’s eyes flicked over Carla, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “I’d be more comfortable if you weren’t fully dressed. It feels rough on my skin.”

Carla laughed softly. She couldn’t argue with that. She stood, slipping off her shirt, then her pants, leaving herself in just her bra and panties before returning to the couch. “Does this help?”

Lisa nodded, clearly pleased, her gaze roaming freely now. Her hands slid down Carla’s legs, warm and appreciative. “You’re so beautiful, Carla,” she said quietly, the words landing heavier than either of them expected.

Carla bent down and kissed her, slow and lingering, before resuming the massage—this time from the front. She worked Lisa’s shoulders, her arms, lifting each hand to massage every finger individually, taking her time. She traced her way across Lisa’s body, deliberately avoiding her breasts, focusing instead on her stomach, the dip of her waist, brushing over her belly ring just enough to make Lisa smile.

She could tell Lisa was growing impatient—her breath hitching, her tongue darting over her lips, her eyes fluttering shut whenever Carla’s hands pressed deep or grazed somewhere sensitive. Carla teased her just a little longer, wanting her fully relaxed, fully present.

When she finally moved her hands over Lisa’s breasts, she did it slowly, lightly at first, just enough pressure to make her arch. Lisa let out a soft moan as Carla’s attention focused there, no longer teasing—fully massaging, confident and sure.

Carla lifted the oil bottle again and let it drip freely onto Lisa’s chest, watching it trail over the curves of her breasts. She followed it with her hands, spreading it until Lisa’s skin glistened.

“Look at you,” Carla murmured, sitting back slightly to admire her—oiled skin, hardened nipples, panties still in place. The restraint was almost torture, for both of them.

After working Lisa’s body so thoroughly, Carla leaned back as if the session was over, stretching just enough to make it believable. Lisa was relaxed, loose, completely at ease—but there was still a need humming through her, a place Carla had been building toward all night.

Sensing it, Carla leaned back over her, kissing her deeply, hiding where her hands were going. Her palm settled over the outside of Lisa’s underwear, rubbing gently.

“Oh,” she teased softly, “I almost forgot about this.”

Lisa let out a sharp breath, like the air had been knocked from her lungs.

“There was a lot of tension here,” Carla whispered against her lips. “I could see it in your thighs.”

She kissed her again. “Let’s see if we can release some of that.”

Lisa moaned into her, the sound breaking her wide open. Carla slowly pulled her panties down, smiling at the evidence left behind, before touching her properly at last. With the barrier gone, it took only moments for Lisa to unravel beneath her—her body already primed, softened, and aching from Carla’s hands everywhere else.

When it was over, Lisa pulled Carla down against her, wrapping her arms around her and holding her close. They stayed that way for a long while, breathing together, spent and content.

Eventually, Lisa turned her head to find Carla already watching her. Carla smiled, and Lisa kissed her.

“I’m falling for you, Lisa,” Carla admitted quietly. “Fast. Hard.”

She needed her to know this wasn’t just physical, wasn’t curiosity or novelty. This was real—something she’d never felt before.

Lisa smiled softly. “I’m falling for you too,” she said, her voice low and sure.