Deep in Desire: A Sapphic Age-Gap Romance

3

DEBORAH

Deborah stood at her kitchen sink, staring out into her backyard absentmindedly as she washed the dishes from dinner. Although she usually left the office around midnight and would often grab a take-out, she felt like cooking from scratch tonight. Granted, she’d had all the ingredients ordered online, not actually being capable of remembering when she’d last set foot in a grocery store, but she had a few recipes up her sleeve. She had had a craving earlier on in the day for homemade lasagne. She’d asked her PA to set up the delivery. And just like magic, everything was ready and waiting for her in the fridge when she’d gotten home.

“Jesus. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to live like a normal person,” she whispered to herself. “Sandy does everything for me, makes every appointment, tells me where to stand, sit, move, talk. And I can’t run this goddam house without a team of staff, either! I’m a joke. A fucking robot.”

The warm water cascaded over her dry hands. It felt soothing, yet she knew it wouldn’t do much to wash away the turmoil within her. Thoughts of Holly consumed her mind, guilt mingling with a thrilling sense of longing that she couldn’t shake off.

Deborah had participated in four meetings that day, chaired by some of her key executives, on current projects, performance metrics, and strategic initiatives. But had she heard a word that had been said? No. Instead, she’d played visuals in her head about rubbing suntan oil into a certain brunette’s back as they lay on Bondi Beach. She didn’t even know where Bondi Beach was, but it sounded like heaven.

It had been weeks since her encounter on the terrace with Holly, yet Deborah replayed every instant of it in her mind almost every moment of every day. The girl’s laughter, her animatedgestures, and how she looked at Deborah with those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through her façade stirred up a complex cocktail of emotions.

“I shouldn’t be feeling this way. I’m old enough to be her mother,” Deborah mumbled to herself as she carefully stacked the single plate, fork, and baking tray on the drying rack. She knew she’d crossed a line; one she had decided to draw firmly in the sand a long time ago. Married for over a decade, Deborah had prided herself on her commitment to her ex-wife and their life together. And yet everything they had shared had come crumbling down.

Holly’s return to L.A. rattled these convictions, leaving her vulnerable to desires she didn’t want to feel again.

The next day was Saturday. Deborah’s heart thudded in her chest as she navigated the familiar streets of downtown Los Angeles. The city bustled with life, the honking of cars mingling with the raucous chatter of pedestrians. For unknown reasons, she couldn’t shake off the unease that had settled in her chest since agreeing to meet Mia and Harper at the recording studio.

Mia had texted earlier, saying it had been a while since they all caught up and that she was desperate for Deborah to hear the latest could-be hit. Deborah had always loved Mia’s enthusiasm, but she also knew that Mia’s underlying hope was that Deborah would commission her to write the music for a WebFlix show. She hoped that tonight’s gathering wasn’t just about trying to sell her music (which was a decision out of Deborah’s hands in any case) but about spending some quality time together. Deborah so needed a break from her turbulent thoughts.

As she entered the mid-century modern box-shaped building with its flat roof and minimalist façade so typical of L.A., Deborah was greeted by the familiar hum of creativity from Mia’s studio.

But wasn’t she having trouble with the neighbors? She didn’t soundproof the place yet? For Christ’s sake, Mia! Way to piss everyone off!

She forced a smile as she exchanged pleasantries with the security guard at the front desk.

“Mia is expecting me.”

“So she said. Go ahead.”

Upstairs, Mia’s studio was a cozy space filled with guitars, its walls adorned with posters of k.d.Lang, Tracey Chapman, and Ani DiFranco. It was clear as soon as you walked into the room that Mia was as sapphic as they come, with pride flags draped across every surface and shelves filled with books on queer history. Mia stood near the mixing desk, her broad and genuine smile lighting up her face and causing her eyes to sparkle with warmth and enthusiasm.

“Debs, Debs, Debs!” Mia exclaimed, jumping around excitedly. “It’s so good to see you! You look fab-u-lous!”

“Thanks, Mia. It’s been a couple of weeks, right? I’ve not felt like hanging out at Indigo recently. How’s it going? Do we kiss? Hug?” Deborah moved in for an awkward hug, setting Mia off into a fit of giggles.

Mia pulled back. “Is everything alright? You seem… kinda tense.”

Deborah just about managed a weak smile. “I have a heap of stuff going on these days. That’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

Before Mia could probe further, Harper bounded over, her energy filling the small space. “Deb! You made it! Yay! How’s life?”

Deborah rolled her eyes, grateful for Harper’s infectious enthusiasm. “It’s… going. Life’s moving onfrom one day to the next, you know? Work, sleep, eat. Start again. Shower occasionally. I guess I’m just hanging in there, Harp.”

Harper studied her closely, her expression turning serious. “The shower thing doesn’t sound so good. I wanna tell you straight. Showering is something we do every day, Deb. But seriously, if you ever want to meet up and chat, Mia and I are all ears. Seriously.”

“Thanks, Harper,” Deborah said, touched by her friend’s sincerity.

Mia clapped her hands together in an attempt to steer the conversation back to something a little lighter. Her music! “Alright, enough with all that. You two are putting me on a downer. Get comfy. Take a seat. I can’t wait for you to hear what I’ve been working on.”

“What? Who now? Who’s been working on it?”

“We. What we’ve been working on.”

“That’s right, my love.”

As Deborah settled onto the small sofa, she couldn’t help but notice the complicit smile that passed between Mia and Harper. She loved how they always teased each other like they’d been together forever, their laughter echoing off the not-soundproofed walls.