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Franky Doyle hesitated before stepping out of the Governor’s office, taking one last look at Erica. Then she had a change of mind, closing the door and locking it, instead of leaving as she had intended. At the clicking sound of the door, the Governor had put one hand against the wall, bracing herself. Her expression was distraught — she was breathless, completely out of sorts. Unaware of anything going on around her, clearly. Franky’s smirk broadened. I did that!
Erica closed her eyes, put her other hand to her mouth, touching her lips gingerly. Franky’s cocky demeanor deflated a bit. Had she hurt her? But hadn’t Erica kissed her back? Franky turned to face the gorgeous blonde she had just… Sexually assaulted, if truth be told. Fuck! I didn’t mean to hurt her…
Franky stepped back into Erica’s personal space, not touching, but they were back in the corner again, together.
Erica looked at her, wild eyed, then pressed herself back as far as possible away from Franky, her hands up defensively, her face turned away. “Franky, don’t. Please!”
This was exactly the opposite of what Franky had wanted. But she hadn’t really thought it through then, had she? Erica was such a tease, always provoking, flirting, then pulling back. Especially now that she was Governor.
“Hey, Erica. I’m sorry. I didn’t… fuck, Erica. Look at me, please?” Oh god. I’ve ruined it. Us. I’ve ruined everything.
Erica opened her eyes slowly, captured by now teary green ones.
Franky stepped forward so Erica’s hands were flat against her chest. “Did I hurt you? I’m so fucking sorry.” She chewed her bottom lip, looked away, looked back. Took a deep breath.
Erica took several, waiting to see if Franky was going to mash her again, then relaxed her stance. “Jesus, Franky. I don’t know what to do with you.” She stared at her a bit longer, trying to sort out the swirl of feelings in her gut and in her head. Finally, she kicked off her heels — without them, Franky was slightly taller — and leaned forward into the younger woman. Her hands slid up a slim neck, cupped her face, then pressed their heads together. “You’re confusing me. Driving me completely mad.” She leaned in closer, pressing a ghost of a kiss to Franky’s lips.
Franky tried to recapture some of her bravado, but she was losing control of this situation. Erica’s reactions were gutting her emotionally. She hadn’t expected this. Wasn’t ready for this. This was supposed to be a crazy fling. Fun and games. It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye, her father used to say. Franky leaned in and captured Erica’s lips hungrily, seeking to regain the upper hand.
This time Erica was ready. She met Franky with equal desire, battling her lips and tongue, which sent electric sparks down her back, out to every inch of her skin. She had never been kissed like this before. Even in the early days with Mark, there was enthusiasm on her end but never this kind of passion. It was the kiss she dreamed about, but was sure never sure existed. The kiss that burned other parts of her body as well, that had her whimpering in her sleep, waking up near orgasm. She moaned into Franky’s mouth, unable to contain the fire. When she felt Franky pulling at her blouse, untucking it from her slacks and the fingers on her skin, bare skin, soft fingers, strong hands…
She pulled back, knowing if she didn’t ratchet this down, they were going to end up a spectacle, tumbling to the floor, fucking like teenagers. She would be sacked instantly. Franky would be slotted indeterminately. Not here. Not now. She ended the kiss. “Franky…”
Franky wasn’t stopping. She needed to get everything she could from this moment. She knew Erica. The woman wasn’t going to talk to her again after this for days, possibly weeks. She would cancel the tutoring sessions, refuse meeting requests. Perhaps even find a reason to slot her. She dove back in, capturing those sweetest of lips again. “No,” she said, continuing to kiss Erica passionately.
Erica wasn’t fighting her. She wasn’t quite ready for the moment to end either. It could never be repeated. This had to be a one off. Never again. She wanted, needed more time. More time with the brash, brilliant, cheeky, gorgeous, infuriating girl who had captured more than her heart. She moved her hands back to Franky’s face, slowing the momentum of their frenzied grappling; drawing the kisses out longer, deepening them, until Franky was the one moaning. Until she couldn’t breathe. Until she couldn’t take anymore.
Then she pushed Franky away, stepping around her, seeking out the safety of her desk and chair. She on one side, Franky on the other. The way things should be between Governor and inmate.
But Franky was faster, snatching her by the waist, pulling her back into the corner, arms encircling, holding her hard, close. “Please. Not yet.” She pushed her nose into Erica’s hair, inhaling deeply of her. Kissing her neck. “What’s this shampoo? Get me some? Then I can smell you all the time.”
Erica chuckled, reveling in the feel of their bodies pressed together; how they fit, her bum tucked sweetly against Franky's groin; the facade of casualness with which their hands were interlaced across Erica’s middle. She let her head fall back on Franky’s shoulder, brought one hand up to her lips, kissing their intertwined fingers. “No,” she said, her breath catching as Franky’s lips found her earlobe, sucking it gently, then nipping there.
She reached the other arm back, threading her fingers in Franky’s hair, pulling their mouths to together for another long, deep, kiss. Before she knew it, she was turned around. This time she was pressing Franky into the corner, Franky’s hands cupping her face. Erica’s hands squeezing an amazingly firm, teal-clad bum. She pushed her thigh between Franky’s legs, seeking the pressure against her own center, and smiled into the kiss when she heard the hitch in Franky’s breathing.
Now it was Franky who pushed her away, all of her bravado gone. Her eyes wide. Erica took several steps back, finally finding her desk, but sitting on it instead of behind it, continuing to stare at Franky. She took several deep breaths, then looked away, out of the window.
“This is impossible. You know that.”
“I’m crazy about you Erica. Tell me how to stop feeling this way and I will.”
Erica looked back at her. Trying to steel her gaze. “It doesn’t matter what either of us feel. This. Just. Can’t. Happen.”
Franky took a couple of steps forward, but stopped when Erica put a hand up. They were in full view of the glass walls now. “It’s happening. We can’t stop now. We’ve barely begun,” her voice had dropped almost to a whisper.
Erica stood completely upright, looked over Franky’s shoulder to the corridor to make sure no one was watching, then tucked her blouse back into her slacks. She sat, decisively, behind the desk. Safe. “It’s time for you to leave. I have another appointment.” She smoothed her hair and awakened her laptop, focusing on the screen. Even she didn’t believe the lie.
Franky advanced, putting both hands on the desk, looking down at the blonde head bent toward the computer. “Erica.”
“It’s Miss Davidson, Franky. Now go!”
“Fine, Miss Davidson. But I want you to know, kissing you is fantastic. This is the best day of my life so far. And we’ve got time. I’ll wait as long as it takes. And I’ll be outta here in another couple of years.” She turned and walked to the door of the office, turning the lock and opening it wide. She took one last look over her shoulder before stepping into the corridor. Erica was watching her arse. Franky wiggled and Erica quickly looked up at her face, blushing. She tried to hide the smile. Franky winked, and was gone.
The next day Franky’s energy was off the walls, she was practically bouncing with every step. When outdoor time arrived, she barged out into the yard, picking up a very competitive game of basketball. Trying to distract herself from waiting for Erica to do her usual walk-through. Trying to exhaust her nervous excitement so everyone in the yard wouldn’t know how hard she had finally fallen for the governor.
It was getting late. Franky continued to sprint up and down the court, surreptitiously watching the fence. Maybe she wasn’t coming today. Franky now worked on managing her disappointment.
Erica didn’t show. Next day, repeat. Again, and again. Until weeks had passed. Franky had been right.
The next day, an amazonian hulk of a woman with a tight bun and severe expression came through the halls to the laundry, flanked by Vera Bennet and Will Jackson. Activity in the room came to a complete halt as the woman strode in, commanding attention.
“Move away from the trolley.” The blond prisoner did so. Quickly. “Empty it.” Two screws did so. Quickly. They found nothing.
The woman approached the buggy, flipped it over with one foot. Donning a latex glove, she reached into the loop of fabric at the bottom of the bag which attached it to the wire frame. She pulled out a small package of foil-wrapped gear.
“Slot her!” She barked.
“Oi! And who are you?” Franky called from behind the steam press she had been working.
“My name’s Miss Ferguson. But you can call me Governor.”
Franky had run out of time.