Chapter Five: Don't Look Back
The very first moment Michiru experienced Haruka's kiss, she had known she could never accept a kiss from any other. The kiss had proven that what she had felt upon meeting the blonde was not a fluke. Standing in the middle of her living room with mere inches between them Michiru felt the heat of arousal wash over her followed by the warmth of rightness. This is where she was meant to be: in this woman's arms. Haruka's kiss tasted of honeysuckle carried on a warm summer wind. It did not take much for Michiru to imagine herself with Haruka in a field, the music of breezes rustling through the trees and dancing through the blades of grass with the sun shining down upon them. She was surrounded by the heat and taste and smell of the woman.
When Michiru loosened the robe and slid her fingers across Haruka's skin, she could feel the tense form of carved muscles. The blonde woman's body felt like a Greek statue come to life: Michiru's own Galatea made of flesh and bone, tendons and sinews, underlain and intertwined to create a being of perfection for Michiru alone. But Haruka was not made of cold ivory; the very proof of it was the heat generating from the blonde.
She could feel the trim blonde shudder at her touch and she wanted to feel more, wanted to tease more until Haruka cried out. She slid her hands upwards and slipped the robe off the woman's shoulders. Strong shoulders bunched under Michiru's fingers and she felt Haruka's hands release their hold from her hips and slip under her tank top. Her skin was electrified beneath the blonde's hands, the rough calluses eliciting an arousing, chaotic sensation as they lightly caressed her back. She moaned into Haruka's open mouth and the blonde seemed to drink the very moan from Michiru's lips before deepening the kiss. When they broke apart Michiru immediately stepped back and slipped her own meager clothing. She missed the feeling of Haruka's hands on her skin as they returned to the woman's side.
As she revealed her naked body before Haruka, she could hear the inhalation of air from the blonde, could feel the further tightening of the already tense stomach muscles. There was a swelling of pride in her that came from the knowledge that Haruka found her beautiful. There was no other way to interpret the way the blonde stared at her: need was apparent but also there was awe reflected in Haruka's eyes as her gaze traveled along Michiru's frame. Instead of her art, it was the student who was now on display; but the idea of it did not disturb her because it was Haruka who was in front of her. She wanted Haruka to look at her.
Excitement swept through Michiru in response to the hotness of the woman's hungry gaze. She took Haruka's right hand which hung forgotten at the blonde's side and placed it on her chest, the lower half of the woman's palm hugging the rise of Michiru's breast. Her heart beat wildly in her chest under the blonde's long fingers when they touched her unclothed form.
"Before we go any further I want to tell you I don't do this," Michiru spoke quietly, her words husky. "You are the first I've invited into my home. You are the first I've allowed to touch me this way."
"The first?" Haruka's words were reduced to a whisper. "Then I can't...I shouldn't..." Her body had tensed like a wild bird preparing for flight and Michiru knew she had to stop the blonde. A foot of space remained between them and she could sense Haruka was ready to erect a wall if she did not say the right thing.
"You should," Michiru's voice gained strength when she thought that Haruka might leave once and for all, "you should because I want you to. And you want to as well. I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice."
"Michiru-" the blonde began only to be cut off by the teal-haired woman who stepped closer and whispered in her ear.
"Haruka, make love to me. Please."
That one sentence ended the discussion. Michiru felt Haruka's arms wrap around her before she was lifted and carried to the sofa. Laid out on the couch, Haruka kissed Michiru softly, their breaths mingling. The urgency was now gone, replaced by a slow sweetness. The dreamy, easy movements of their actions were quite at odds with the tempest of the outdoors. Michiru forgot all about the typhoon, the blessed typhoon that started it all when Haruka's frame finally stretched out beside her.
-x-x-x-
When Haruka awoke it was to the unfamiliar sensation of bare skin against her own. There was a pain in her neck due to her uncomfortably cramped position against one sofa arm and her feet and a portion of her calves were numb from hanging off the other arm. The thought struck her right away that she had done something stupid. A lock of teal hair lay across her lips; the scent clinging to it reminiscent of cucumber melon.
"Shit!" she muttered to herself and the woman who lay curled up against her chest stirred and moaned indistinctly before finding the rhythm of sleep again. The ticking of a clock summoned her glance and she saw it was mere minutes after midnight. The roaring winds had abated but the rain continued to fall, the sound of it softly drumming upon the roof and walls of the building.
Gently extricating herself from Michiru, Haruka was halfway across the room filled with the intention of doing what she had vowed to herself earlier-getting the hell out-when something stopped her, and she turned and stared at the peacefully sleeping woman. Haruka could not say how long she stood watching the woman but she did know time had passed because the ticking of the clock continued. The form of the student stirred and for a moment she thought Michiru would wake up, but the woman just shifted until her knees were drawn up to her center and she was curled into the fetal position. Michiru frowned for a few seconds before her expression settled back into one of peace and Haruka experienced a strange pang in her chest. Bending low she picked up the robe she had worn hours earlier and quietly walked back to Michiru. A few strands of hair had fallen across the woman's face and Haruka gently moved them aside before covering Michiru with the robe. Because she was curled up the robe easily covered the woman's frame from shoulders to feet. Only Michiru's head remained exposed and the image of it gave Haruka the thought of a small child tucked into bed. An urge to protect this woman stirred inside Haruka.
Her day had gotten unexpectedly complicated very quickly. What she was about to do to Michiru might be despicable but Haruka knew it was a rule of life. Hurt or be hurt. It didn't matter that Michiru might have spoken the truth earlier about Haruka being the first. She could very well be like the other one. In the end everything was reduced to games for wealthy women like her and Haruka cursed whatever it was that had drawn her to this woman. To this new game.
It doesn't matter now. When I leave the game ends.
She quickly crossed the room again and turned off the living room lights before going down the hallway and entering the small room that contained the washer and dryer and a sink. Michiru had pointed it out to her before stepping into the bathroom to take her own shower. It already felt like that happened years ago. Only the sensations of the teal-haired woman remained truly vivid; being with Michiru had made everything else seem like an old grainy photograph.
She dressed quickly then passed her hands through her hair in an attempt to smooth it. She caught a whiff of Michiru's scent as she did so and realized it clung to her hands. She recalled the pain-pleasure look on Michiru's face when she had slipped her fingers between the woman's legs. Haruka's heartbeat sped up and her face felt hot. She swore savagely as she turned on the tap and thrust her hands under the flow of water, scrubbing her palms and fingers with soap until she was satisfied the scent of the woman no longer lingered. She firmly turned off the water and exited the room. A quick look towards the living room revealed the light was still off, the quiet uninterrupted; she made her way past the kitchen and down the stairs.
Her boots sat neatly in the small entryway where she had placed them earlier and she drew them onto her feet with practiced ease. The door opened out into the wet void of the night and she entered it without looking back once.
-x-x-x-
Michiru could not say what woke her but for a moment she imagined she heard the faraway slam of the door downstairs. The living room was dark but the kitchen light was still on, the small hallway awash with light. She sat upright and the cloth covering her pooled partly in her lap and onto the sofa; she recognized it as the robe she had lent Haruka.
Haruka.
Where was Haruka? Her thoughts were an invading force centered on the blonde woman. The very air of the apartment was still and Michiru knew for certain the woman had left. Michiru, accustomed to being alone, suddenly felt very lonely. She had preferred keeping to herself on many occasions but suddenly she didn't enjoy the feeling; Haruka had come along and changed something inside of her.
To stifle the feeling she got up from the couch and prepared to do what she did best. She did not bother to get dressed but went right to work setting up a clean canvas on her easel. Her brushes stood at attention, dry, clean and ready to be sullied with paint. Her hands flew across the blank space as fast as her thoughts of the night flew through her tumultuous mind. What had been devoid of color was now filled with the warm tones of yellows, pale and deep; flesh tones; and hints of navy-blue shadows.
When she finished Michiru knew that she would always recall the feeling of Haruka surrounding her every time she looked at this particular painting.
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