Chapter Text
Her head’s pounding.
She’s had about 2 hours sleep at best, and even that had been questionable. She’d had something more than a skinful last night, followed by some ill-advised-but-thoroughly-enjoyable sex with her best mate.
She swore that last time would be the last time, and hand-on-heart she’d meant it. Until Suzie knocked back the last swig of her beer and pressed her hand to something else, something further south than her heart. Then all coherent, sensible thought had gone out the window, and Carla had pinned her to the kitchen table and devoured her.
She could hardly be blamed though, could she? She’s always been an absolute sucker for a hot blonde, and she already knew she loved the way Suzie tasted.
Better the devil you know and all that.
So now here she was, head pressed against the train window as it vibrated violently against her, wishing she was anywhere but on this bloody train.
Stinks of piss on here, an’ all.
Frankly, she wishes she’d spent another few hours lazing around in Suzie’s bed. Reckons she could’ve convinced her to sit on her face again with pretty minimal effort if she’d not been summoned home immediately for a bloody family dinner.
All to meet whatever wet blanket of a bird her baby brother was shacking up with now.
She swallows down the vomit that’s been trying to creep its way up her throat — she’s not sure whether it’s from the intense scent of urine or the thought of a Sunday dinner — then twists in her seat to try and locate the source of the smell.
There’s hardly anyone on here to be fair, just a fusty looking bloke with a beard that’s probably hiding a few secrets (probable suspect #1), an elderly couple that look like they’re not even sure they’re on the right train (equally probable suspects #2, although she’s leaning more towards it being the other fella), and a—
Fuck—
She blinks rapidly, almost does a double-take as her eyes land on the blonde woman at the back of the carriage.
Absolutely not a suspect for the source of smell.
God, she’s stunning—
Maybe a suspect for the way her stomach flips and her mouth goes dry—
Actually, maybe the dry-mouth is hangover-related.
She rakes her eyes over the girl — woman — and licks her lips in an attempt to restore some moisture. She’s unreal. Exactly her type, if not a little younger than she usually goes for. Shiny blonde hair that frames her face; thick, dark eyelashes that she’s certain are hiding gorgeous eyes; small, by the looks of it, but curvy from what she can see. God, she wishes she’d stand up so she could really appreciate her.
Dunno what the hell it is with her, but she’s always had some gravitational pull towards women that are on the cusp of needing a booster seat.
She turns and groans, reminds herself that she’s just left another woman’s bed not three hours ago. Not that that’s ever stopped her before.
She rests her head on her arms the rest of the way back to Weatherfield, wills herself to go to sleep for the last half an hour of the journey. She needs something to take the edge off this hangover, but she’s pretty certain that Avanti West Coast doesn't offer a bar service, so she decides sleep is the next best thing.
When the train finally arrives at Weatherfield Station, she’s both grateful and gutted, because when she turns and looks again, the blonde woman is gone, and now she’ll never know what she tastes like. Won’t even know her name, but realistically she probably wouldn’t have known that anyway. Why change the habit of a lifetime?
Her phone buzzes in her pocket for what feels like the millionth time, so she reluctantly pulls it out and scans over her notifications.
Mum: Where are you? Ben and Lisa will be here soon.
Mum: Ben’s just left to pick Lisa up. I expect you home before they get here.
Suzie: Thanks for a great night 👅
She rolls her eyes and clicks onto her conversation with Suzie.
Carla: We’re not doing great at this ‘just friends’ thing are we?
Suzie: Are you complaining?
Carla: Wouldn’t dream of it.
She shakes her head and gathers her clutch, shoves her phone into it, then stands on legs that resemble a fresh-from-the-womb baby deer as the train pulls to a stop. When she makes it to the doors, there’s some dopey cow with half her wardrobe pratting about trying to get onto the platform. She huffs loudly in annoyance, then when it doesn’t get her anywhere, she shoulder-barges past her and makes her way off the train.
Behind her, she hears a disgruntled ‘hey’, so she turns and—
Well, fuck, she definitely won’t get a chance to shag this woman now.
It’s her.
She plays it cool, obviously. She’s Carla Connor, and no matter how hot the woman is, no matter how badly she wants to fuck them, she never lets it show. She sticks her tongue out and bites down on it, winks at her, then flips her middle finger at her.
She was never really gonna get to sleep with her anyway, was she? She’s just some bird on the train.
But Jesus, she’d been right about her. What she was lacking in height, she more than made up for in curves.
Shame, really.
She checks the time on her phone and decides that if she’s going to make it through dinner with her family and her wet-blanket of a brother’s likely equally-wet-blanket new girlfriend, she needs at least a few fresh units of alcohol inside her. So she flags down a taxi and the words Rovers Return fall out of her mouth before she’s had a chance to check that Michelle’s even there.
Fortunately, she is, and before she can even contemplate what she wants to drink, Michelle is sliding a large glass of Rosé across the bar to her and nodding in the direction of a vacant booth.
“So,” Michelle says with a smirk. “You shagged Suzie again, yeah?”
Carla groans, takes a healthy swig of her wine, grimaces at the taste, then rests her head on her folded arms on the table.
“This was the last time, I swear,” she mutters into her arms, the words muffled but no less clear. Then she lifts her head back up and furrows her brow.
“Heard that one before, mate,” Michelle teases before she takes a sip of her own wine.
She’d laugh at the situation if she wasn’t so hungover. “What can I say? She’s a fantastic lay.”
Michelle shakes her head at her best friend’s antics. She’s been like this for longer than she can remember, since long before Paul died. And as much as she loved her brother, she’d always known that Carla was gayer than a unicorn vomiting rainbows. They were a match made in hell, but she was the only one that could see it for a long time.
After Carla’s given her the run-down of her night in London, her night in Suzie’s bed, she sobers enough to reach across the table and thread their fingers together. “You ever gonna think about settling down again, mate?” She keeps her tone light, doesn’t want Carla to feel like she’s being pushed into something she isn’t ready for.
“Why would I do that? I spent twelve years of my life married to a bloke that I didn’t love — I’m sorry, I know he was your brother—” Michelle waves her off at this; she knew the score between the two of them long before anyone else did.
Married too young, too fast, and neither of them prepared to only be with one person for the rest of their lives. Carla had discovered her attraction to women when she’d already said ‘I do’ and signed her life away. They’d both cheated on each other left, right and centre, and when they both found out about one another, they made an agreement that they could sleep with whoever they wanted.
She’s pretty sure Carla had probably slept with more women than Paul by the end, and as much as she didn’t particularly want to know the ins and outs of her brother’s sex life, she was well aware that he was almost as bad as she was. And she’d always been weirdly glad to see Carla exploring that part of herself.
“Oh, don’t worry, I know how things were with you two. I just mean— well, you’ve kinda accepted yourself now, haven’t you? You don’t deny that you’re gay now, why not think about meeting someone and settling down? You’re not getting any younger, are ya?”
Carla swats Michelle’s hand at that, affronted by the suggestion that her body clock is ticking.
“Oi, gob, I’m only 36. I was practically shoved down the aisle when I was 22, I’m enjoying being single now.” She sips her drink again. It’s doing nothing to settle her sensitive stomach, and she reckons if she finishes the glass she’ll end up throwing up all over the dining table. What a cracking introduction to her little brother’s new missus that’ll be. “I’m not hurting anyone, am I? And I haven’t had any complaints. The way I see it, I’m doing a public service. One woman at a time.” She shrugs. “Maybe sometimes two women at a time.”
She can’t help smirking at the memory. A few months ago she’d been in a club with Suzie, and a blonde woman had been giving one of them the eye all night. She wasn’t sure, at the time, which of them she’d been staring at, and as it turned out, it had been both of them. She’d figured that one out when she’d been on her knees between her thighs, strapping her into next week whilst Suzie had perched herself on her face.
They never did get her name, actually.
Never mind.
“Right, that’s me. Best go and play the prodigal daughter at this flamin’ family dinner.”
“Prodigal daughter, my arse. Didn’t your dad catch you with your hand down a woman’s pants a few weeks ago?”
Carla shrugs as she shoves her phone back into her clutch. She’s still wearing last night’s clothes, but at least she’d been able to steal some of Suzie’s deodorant and toothpaste before she’d left her flat this morning.
“Listen, that’s on them, not me.” She points her finger at Michelle and smirks. “They’re the ones that practically steam-rollered me into staying with them whilst the flat’s being renovated. I’d have been perfectly fine kipping on your sofa for a few months.”
Michelle shakes her head and laughs. Typical Carla.
“You were in their kitchen?” She reminds her with an eyebrow raised. “You aren’t staying with me, pal, I ain’t having you bringing half the lesbians in Manchester back so you can finger them on my sofa.”
Carla shrugs then grabs Michelle’s face, bends down and plants a fat, wet kiss on her lips. “Love ya.”
“You taste like a brewery!” Michelle calls after her.
“At least I don’t taste like Suzie!” She calls back through the pub with absolutely no shame. She’s pretty certain that Ken Barlow might be about to have a heart attack, given the look on his face.
She’s not wrong, Carla thinks as she stumbles out of the pub. She’s pretty sure that one glass of wine had reignited the alcohol that’s still coursing through her system from last night, and she suddenly feels a lot better about sitting through this family dinner.
When she gets home, the typical thing happens. The conversation in the dining room stops abruptly, and five pairs of eyes peer at her through the open archway.
It’s the same every time she rolls back in wearing her clothes from the night before. The short leather skirt and red, long-sleeved, skin-tight crop top weren’t exactly leaving much to the imagination, and the gold hoops were giving such…
The bigger the hoop, the bigger the—
Yeah, accurate. She can’t really argue it, can she? Especially not when she catches herself in the hallway mirror and spots a love bite on the side of her throat. She’s flamin’-well warned Suzie about that enough times…
“Afternoon, family,” she greets them all with a smug grin. She scans the table, and her eyes land on the unfamiliar blonde.
Or maybe not too unfamiliar.
Aw, fuck…
It’s her.
The girl from the train.
The insanely hot one.
The one she wanted to—
Fuck, how young is she? she thinks to herself as the girl stares back at her.
“Lisa, this is Carla,” her baby brother introduces her.
Lisa.
She’d expected a girl that resembled a librarian or maybe a nun when her mum had told her that Ben was bringing his new girlfriend, Lisa, home for a couple of weeks.
But this version of Lisa is nothing like she’d imagined, even if she is a little buttoned up. She’s far too hot to join a nunnery.
She wouldn’t mind moaning that name, actually. Fair play to Ben for pulling her, he’s hardly the most interesting person going. Doesn’t even make her top 100 if she’s being honest. How they share a gene pool is beyond her, her parents must’ve had some serious deterioration of their reproductive facilities between birthing her and Rob, and him.
Then again, Rob’s a bit of a question mark an’ all…
Maybe she’s just a one-off.
“My older sister,” he reiterates when no one says anything, as if it wasn’t obvious who she was. She knows there’s a good thirteen year age gap between them, but she can’t imagine this girl — Lisa — would think she was a stranger letting herself into the house. Or worse, Ben’s mam.
“We’ve already met.” She smirks at Lisa, who sinks down in her seat. She’s clearly shy, the flush on her cheeks a dead giveaway. She’d quite like to see if that pink tint has crept down to her chest, but this woman’s all buttoned up and is leaving absolutely everything to the imagination.
She offers the same smirk she flashes at all of her conquests, and Lisa visibly squirms in her seat. She doubts anyone else has clocked it, but she definitely has.
“Nice to meet you,” she drawls, holding Lisa’s gaze. “I’m the family disappointment.”
Rob barks out a laugh and shakes his head. Ben rolls his eyes and tuts at her. “You got that right.”
“Shut it, squirt. I’m still the most successful one, family disappointment or not.” She straightens her stance and flips her hair over her shoulder.
“You’re hardly successful. You only own that factory because your husband left it to you. Doesn’t count as success if it’s handed to you on a silver platter.”
That got her back up. Handed to her or not, she’s still put her blood, sweat, and tears into that place. She built it up from scratch long before Paul died — he’d gotten bored of it within a few years of owning it, so she’d been running it single-handedly for the last ten years.
“Get fucked, that place is a gold mine and you know it. Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Benny Boy.” Honestly, they’re related… how, exactly?
“What kind of factory is it?” Lisa asks, and it’s the first time she’s spoken since Carla walked through the door. Carla turns to her and grins.
“It’s a lingerie factory. You want me to hook you up? My brother might have a heart attack if he ever saw a woman in the kind of things I des—”
“Absolutely not.” Lisa bites. And it’s interesting. Her cheeks turn a deep Scarlett, they’re no longer just the pretty, pink flush they’ve been since she got here, and Carla can’t help the way her stomach flips at the sight of her like this. “Sorry, I mean—”
Carla tips her head back laughing and cuts her off. “Oh, don’t worry, I can’t imagine many women would want to waste their time wearing expensive lingerie for him,” she teases with a glint in her eye.
“Fuck off, Carla.”
“Aw, did I hurt your feelings? Do you wanna talk about it?” She feigns sympathy, clutches her chest for effect. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the way Lisa bites her lip and tries not to laugh, and all she can think is that she wants to bite that lip for her. “Is wittle Benny Boy’s wittle willy not up for the job?” She pushes, mimicking a baby voice and wriggling her pinky finger.
“Carla, that’s enough,” Sharon snaps at her, urging her to shut up.
Ben scoffs. “Go away. Why don’t you go and put some clothes on? God knows what you’ll catch wearing that… if you haven’t already caught something.”
Ben eyes her up and down. They’ve never got on great, he was the accidental third child that was never planned, and by default he became their parents number one priority. Carla and Rob were never pushed out, but they definitely felt the sting of ‘we’re busy with your brother’ more times than either of them would care to admit.
“Carla, Ben’s right. You’re hardly dressed appropriately for a family dinner—” Sharon starts to say but Ben cuts her off.
“Or anything.”
Sharon glares at Ben, but continues anyway, “—go and put some proper clothes on. Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes.”
She scoffs and rolls her eyes. Despite being 36 and a flamin’ successful business woman, staying with her family makes her feel like she’s fifteen again. Nevertheless, she does as she’s told to save face, and heads upstairs to change.
And if she spends twenty minutes in her bed getting reacquainted with her vibrator, so what?
And if her mind flits to Lisa and she imagines it’s her face between her thighs… well, it’s harmless, innit? She’s not actually going to sleep with her, even if her gaydar was going crazy when she was in the same room as her.
Poor Ben.
Dinner is interesting to say the least.
She’s a bit more appropriately dressed now, at least as far as her parents are concerned. She’s changed into her favourite loungewear, a two-piece set of waffle-knit shorts and a vest. They’re not exactly at The Ritz, and it’s not like the bloody king’s about to knock the door and ask if they’ve got a plate going begging, so it’ll have to do. Wisely, her parents decide it’s best not to complain.
Thirty-flaming-six and worrying about what’s appropriate to wear for Sunday lunch with her family. Roll on the day her flat’s finally renovated and she only has to show her face here for a couple of hours every so often.
The conversation flows — she notices that Lisa doesn’t say much, but she supposes that some of the conversations are probably foreign to her. She doesn’t know half the people they’re talking about a lot of the time.
Fair play to her mum and dad, they’re doing their best to bring her up to speed with each change of topic.
It’s her dad that brings it up. It’s him that puts the final nail in her proverbial coffin. “Oh, you’ll be glad to know, Ben, I’ve stuck a lock on the inside of your bedroom door. Thought it’s probably best whilst Lisa’s here, eh? Pretty girl like that, you don’t want any of us lot—” he raises his eyebrows at Carla and Rob, who start snickering because he’s so right. “—barging in on you, do you?”
Lisa starts coughing then, clearly chokes on a bloody potato at the suggestion that they’ll be fucking in Ben’s room.
Ben slides her glass of water closer to her and starts rubbing her back.
Honestly, the kid’s such a wet lettuce.
“Dad, I’ve already told you, Lisa’s sleeping on the sofa,” he tells him, one hand still rubbing circles on Lisa’s upper back as she tries to recompose herself.
“What?!” Carla can’t help asking — shouting really, entirely baffled by this new development. “Christ, I was kidding earlier. Surely you can’t be that bad in bed, can you?”
Lisa seems to be breathing alright now, and Carla’s trying to work out whether her cheeks are red because of the minor choking incident or from embarrassment. She reasons that it’s probably a bit of both, given how easily she’d made her blush earlier.
Interesting.
“I’m not—” Lisa stammers, eyes darting around the table. Everyone’s looking at her, but Carla’s pretty positive that her and Rob are the only ones that look completely bewildered. “We’re… well, I’m waiting until marriage for… that.”
Honestly, it’s like all her Christmases have come at once.
She’s always had enough ammo to rip Ben to shreds, but this is just the icing on the cake. Only he could pull quite possibly the hottest girl she might’ve ever seen, only for her to be treating her virginity like it’s sacred and refuse to give it up to him.
Priceless.
“And Ben’s happy to wait too. He respects my wishes.”
She’s going to start rolling on the floor laughing soon. She knew her brother was cut from different cloth, but this has just absolutely confirmed it.
She looks to her left and sees that Rob is barely containing himself, getting daggers glared at him by their mum. Their dad looks baffled, but he’s clearly having his leg kicked under the table because he’s not actually laughing.
“Wow, that’s very…” she tries to think of something to say but her brain’s fogged up. “No, I’m sorry, what the fuck?!”
Then she bursts out laughing.
“Shut up, Carla,” Ben spits at her as he rolls his eyes. “Not all of us think with our dicks.”
“I don’t think with my dick,” Carla responds with a smirk that tells everyone in the room that what’s about to come out of her mouth next is likely to get her sent straight to hell. Do not pass go, do not collect £200. “I think with my stra—”
“Carla!” Sharon cuts her off before she can finish. “That is enough, all of you.” She turns to Carla then. “Good lord, you’re thirty six years old. Leave your brother alone and stop being so vulgar at the dinner table.” She slams her knife and fork down for effect, then schools her expression into something softer. She turns to Lisa, who’s sitting next to her looking sufficiently mortified. “I think it’s admirable, Lisa. Not many women your age respect the importance of purity before marriage. Johnny and I waited until we were married too.” She reaches across the table and wraps her hand around Lisa’s, then starts stroking the back of her hand with her thumb.
Carla and Rob both start feigning dry-heaving. “I could’ve gone my whole life without that image in my head.”
“You’re a bit sick in the head if you’re picturing that now, sis,” Rob chimes in with a wink. Carla shakes her head and picks up her glass of wine.
“Tell me something I don’t know.” She raises her glass and pushes it out in front of her. “Cheers.”
There’s quiet for a bit then — only Rob clinks his glass to hers — and Carla’s pretty sure that Lisa probably wants the ground to swallow her up. At least the blush has started to go away, and now only the tops of her ears are tinted pink.
She gets back to her dinner, which surprisingly is making her feel somewhat more human after her heavy night.
“Can’t believe you’re making your bird sleep on the sofa,” Carla mutters to Ben once she’s swallowed a mouthful. “I don’t even date and even I know that’s a huge red flag.”
“Nobody’s sleeping on the sofa,” Johnny says firmly. “Lisa, you can share with Carla whilst you’re here.”
Lisa’s eyes turn to the size of saucers and she starts shaking her head in protest. “Oh, no, I don’t think that’d be—”
“What’s wrong with Carla?” Rob teases.
“We’ve all been trying to figure that one out for years, mate,” Ben quips before anyone else can get a word in.
Carla can’t help the little chuckle she lets out. It might be the funniest thing that’s ever come out of her little brother’s mouth. Probably true too.
She picks her napkin up and balls it up, then chucks it at him across the table. Hits him square in the face with it and feels dead proud of herself for her aim.
“You can bunk with me if you want,” Carla shrugs. “I’m going out tonight anyway so I’ll not be back until early in the morning. You’ll pretty much have the bed to yourself.”
—x—
True to her word, Carla does go out and leaves Lisa to have the bed to herself. It’s not her typical Sunday night, given that she’s got work in the morning, but she’s sexually frustrated — only made worse by walking into the bathroom when Lisa had been showering; she hadn’t seen anything, but the mental image of her in there was enough to set her off.
When she staggers up the driveway to let herself back into the house, she’s followed closely by Jess, the woman she’d spent most of the night hitting on until she’d followed her into the bathroom and kissed her.
Score.
“My brother’s girlfriend’s sleeping in my room,” she husks once she’s unlocked the door. She holds it open for Jess — she’s more bloody chivalrous than Ben — then follows her in. “Sofa okay?” Okay, maybe she’s not that much more chivalrous than Ben, but she’s not planning on letting this woman sleep on the sofa, they’ll be far too busy for that.
Jess nods, and before she has a chance to say anything, Carla crowds her back towards the front door until she’s backed up against it and hits it with a quiet thud. Carla shushes her, presses her finger to her lips, and Jess takes the opportunity to suck it into her mouth.
“Fuck,” Carla hisses, making no attempt whatsoever to hide just how much it affects her when a woman does that to her. She’s not sure what it is, has never really understood why the simple act of a woman sucking her finger is so erotic to her, but it is. It’s almost as hot as when Suzie gets on her knees and worships her strap with her mouth.
Her stomach tightens as Jess trails her tongue around the tip then bobs her head slightly to take more.
She pulls back, removes her finger, and tangles her hand in her long, curled red hair. Jess lets out a tiny whimper as she leans in. Instead of kissing her, she hovers her lips just in front of her mouth, waiting for her to chase it.
Of course she does.
She reaches down and drops her hand between Jess’s thighs, cups her there and presses hard enough to make her moan into her mouth. She can’t fight the smirk that plays on her lips at the sound, and she’s absolutely sure that Jess can feel it.
“Go on,” she tells her. “Just through there. Get these off.” She nods in the direction of the living room, tugs at the waistband of Jess’s shorts, then gives her arse a healthy slap as she walks. When she’s gone through the living room door, Carla turns her key in the front door to lock it, then spins around to hang it on the hook.
She almost drops them when she sees Lisa standing in the kitchen, glass of water halfway to her mouth, apparently frozen in place.
For a moment, all she can think of is how gorgeous she looks. Again.
She’s clearly just woken up in need of a drink. Her eyes look tired, and she looks so snuggly and sleep-warmed. She’s wearing an old band t-shirt and a pair of black boxers — oh please, god, don’t let them belong to my brother — and her hair’s tied up in a messy bun on top of her head.
Every instinct in her body is telling her to wrap her arms around her and nuzzle her face into her neck.
She won’t though. Obviously.
Instead, she rakes her eyes over her body, paying particular attention to her thighs, which are pale and muscular, and quite frankly would look unreal wrapped around her head.
It’s almost enough to convince her to send Jess packing and go and crawl into bed with her instead.
She drags herself away from staring at her legs and allows her eyes to drift up. Their gaze meets, and for a moment she thinks that Lisa is about to say something. She opens and closes her mouth like a goldfish, looks completely dumbfounded by what she’s presumably just seen.
So instead of saying anything, she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, bites down on it, then winks at her.
And Lisa almost drops her glass of water.
She turns on her heel and heads into the living room to finish what she started with Jess, but not before she blows a kiss to Lisa, who’s still standing exactly where she was when Carla first saw her.
Glass still halfway to her mouth.
It takes Lisa a little while to recompose herself. Suddenly, she doesn’t want the water she’s been holding for the last few minutes so she tips it down the sink and starts to make her way back to the bedroom.
When she reaches the now-closed living room door, she lingers for a moment. She doesn’t know why she does it (she does), but she leans her head in closer to the door and listens for a few seconds.
Through the heavy oak, she can hear soft moans followed by a sharp gasp. She squeezes her thighs together tightly, her breath hitches in her throat, and suddenly everything sort of starts to slot into place. Things start to make sense to her now that never used to; she’d always just thought she was a bit weird; she’s never had any interest in sex and was perfectly happy with the idea of ‘saving herself until marriage’.
But Ben’s older sister is hot.
And she can lie to herself all she wants, but how gorgeous she is, the rebel-without-a-cause attitude, and the way she carries herself, is so unapologetically herself… well, it’s all adding up here.
She fancies the absolute pants off her boyfriend’s older sister.
The realisation that she absolutely has a little thing for Carla burns in the back of her mind, and she finds herself tossing and turning in her borrowed king-sized bed. It feels too empty, and she feels too small for the space.
She knows it’s completely inappropriate, obviously, but all she wants is for Carla to come in and curl up next to her.
It’s a bit mad, really. She’s made it to 22 years old without having any kind of sexual thoughts; nothing ever really did it for her, so she’d decided that at least if she vowed to save herself until marriage, she doesn’t really need to worry about it anytime soon.
She’d never even considered the possibility that she might just not like boys.
She thinks back to when she was younger; the close, intense friendships. The way she’d always admired her friends — especially the pretty ones — and it all starts to slowly slot into place.
The obsession with Orange is the New Black.
The complete lack of interest in anyone from the male species — she barely tolerates Ben.
The infatuation with her secondary school PE teacher. The desperate desire to please her, to do well.
She’s not broken.
Just bent.
Maybe.
Probably requires further research.
But the ache between her thighs at the thought of what Carla’s doing to the girl in the room below? The thought of her doing those things to her instead?
Christ, the room’s definitely getting hotter.
She’s never felt like this before. Has never, really, even fancied anyone, she doesn’t think. She’s definitely never really fancied a bloke. Ben’s lovely. He’s kind, he treats her well, and he wants the same things she wants. It made logical sense to be with him, was maybe the easy option, but the spark? Whatever this feeling she has for Carla is?
It’s definitely not there.
She almost jumps out of her skin when the bedroom door creaks open slowly. It’s light outside, but it’s summer so that doesn’t really mean much. She’s pretty sure it had been light when she went downstairs to get her water. Slender fingers curl around the edge of the door, and then are followed by the appearance of the woman that’s been swimming around in her mind like flaming Dory for the last couple of hours.
Just keep swimming, just keep swimming…
“How come you’re still awake?” Carla whispers as she slips into the room and plonks herself down on the end of the bed to take her heels off.
Did she fuck that woman with her heels on?
She shrugs, eyes stinging from how tired she is. She’s always been an early riser, but this is ridiculous. “Couldn’t sleep.” She mutters as Carla stands back up and starts to lift her top off. She averts her eyes, determined not to look. If she looks, she doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to forget it. “I’d ask if you had a good night, but it looked like you did.”
Carla pauses for a second, then resumes removing her clothes. She throws her crop top off to the side somewhere uncaringly and leaves herself clad in just a sheer, lacy bra and her mini skirt.
And Lisa’s mouth is drier than the Sahara flaming desert.
She can’t look away. So much for not looking.
Her brain’s suddenly short-circuited and she can barely remember which way is up.
Carla watches her. Lisa knows she’s been caught out but she can’t bring herself to look anywhere else.
“Oh, I did,” Carla drawls, her gaze firmly on Lisa. She watches her as she reaches behind herself to unhook her bra, and she can easily pinpoint the moment that Lisa’s pulse rate increases. She can practically hear it echoing around the room.
She knows.
Lisa knows she knows.
She’s never seen a woman in this state of undress before. She can’t bring herself to look away. It feels like her throat is closing up as she takes in the soft curve of Carla’s breasts, the smattering of stretch marks around the edges caused by the weight of them, the dark, pebbled nipples that she just wants to—
She’s standing in front of her, completely bare from the waist up. Carla waits for a moment, lets Lisa have her fill of looking, and it’s only when Lisa finally drags her eyes away and turns onto her side that she reaches into the chest of drawers to grab a pair of pyjamas. Typically she wouldn’t give a shit about which ones she chucks on after a night out, but she reckons she’s about to have some fun with this.
She runs her fingers over a few different pairs. Annoyingly, she hasn’t brought that many with her — and she certainly hasn’t brought any of her favourites, her mum would have a heart attack if she saw them in the wash basket. She was only supposed to be staying for a few weeks, but the renovations on her flat keep getting delayed. If she didn’t have a hot, almost-definitely-secretly-gay blonde in her bed right now, she’d probably be debating how badly she actually needs a kitchen island and a freestanding bath.
But she does have a hot blonde in her bed, and frankly she’s thrilled with her past self for agreeing to stay here.
She finally settles on a dusky pink, silk pair. They leave little to the imagination and tend to ride up her arse the more she wiggles around in them, so they’ll do.
Lisa’s still on her side facing away from her. She can’t see her face, but she just knows she’s lying there with her eyes squeezed shut, willing herself to go to sleep before Carla gets into bed.
When Lisa feels the mattress dip, she instinctively scoots closer to the edge, further away from her. It’s difficult, given the fact that she’s already hanging half-over the edge, but she’s got to put as much space between them as she possibly can.
This is her boyfriend’s sister.
“I don’t bite, you know?” Carla teases when she sees the way Lisa is pretty much a good gust of wind away from falling on the floor. Lisa shrugs the shoulder that isn’t pressed into the mattress, but rolls over onto her back nevertheless. “Well, unless you’re into that kinda thing.”
The thought of it sends a heat rushing through her.
Well, both of them really.
Carla’s still-tipsy brain starts conjuring up images of Lisa splayed out beneath her whilst she’s got her teeth sunk into the soft underside of her breast. She can practically hear her whining in her head, begging her to bite harder.
She looks like she’d be into some kinky shit if she weren’t so hell-bent on keeping her virginity.
Lisa, on the other hand, can’t help but notice how straight and white Carla’s teeth are, and all she can think about then is how good they might feel against her neck.
So, really, they’re both pretty screwed. And they both know it.
She twists enough to grab her phone from the bedside table, and when she sees the time, she sighs heavily. She’s been up for so long it feels like lunchtime, but really it’s barely 7:00 am. Regardless, she huffs and rubs at her eyes, then peels the duvet back to reveal her t-shirt and now slightly damp boxers.
“It’s fine, I’m gonna get up now anyway. Need to go for a run.” Well, that’s that decision made. Crisis of sharing a bed with her boyfriend’s sexy older sister averted. At least for now; she still has thirteen more nights to somehow get through until her uni accommodation is ready.
If she didn’t know any better, she’d say Carla looked a little disappointed by her refusal to stay in bed with her.
It makes butterflies erupt in her stomach.
She’s never experienced this before.
“Gross. Rather you than me,” Carla groans. Lisa stands and stretches, pops the muscles in her back and stifles a yawn. Her t-shirt rides up when she does, and it’s just enough to expose a slither of the creamy skin of her stomach. Carla’s eyes are drawn to it, she can’t help staring at the way her belly protrudes slightly over the waistband of her boxers.
God, she’s fucking gorgeous.
So far, Lisa ticks every single one of her boxes. Blonde. Petite. Beautiful. Curvy. She’s the textbook example of her dream woman.
The only slight issue being that she’s fourteen years younger than her.
And probably a little bit that she’s her brother’s girlfriend, but she’s always been a fan of forbidden fruit, so that’s pretty much just semantics.
The saving herself until marriage thing though? God, she doesn’t think she’d have it in her. Doesn’t think she could possibly keep her hands off her if she was hers.
She shakes her head and snaps herself out of it, drags her gaze away from Lisa who’s now gathering her gymwear to take into the bathroom to change… of course.
Of course she isn’t lucky enough for her to change in front of her.
Get a grip, Carla, you want to shag her, not wife her…
The thought of ever having a wife, of ever being married again and tied down… usually it makes her shiver, but the brief second she allowed herself to consider Lisa as her wife? Well, shit, suddenly the thought isn’t so sickening.
Christ, she’s only known this girl for a day. Half a day really.
She groans and covers her eyes with her forearm, desperate to fall asleep for an hour before she has to get up and go to the factory.
Lisa spends the day with Sharon after her run. Ben’s already back at school, it’s his PGCE year so he went back earlier than the rest of the uni students. She’d not really thought this part through when she’d agreed to come and stay for two weeks before she went back to her uni accommodation herself.
She kind of wishes she’d never agreed to any of this now. She’s been here for not even 24 hours yet and she’s already questioning her entire life. She was perfectly happy thinking she just wasn’t interested in sex, thinking it was completely normal to squirm and pull away every time her boyfriend stuck his tongue in her mouth.
Now her mind’s running at a mile per minute, and she’s looking back on memories through a different set of glasses.
And, more importantly, she cannot stop thinking about Carla.
When she’d taken her top off in front of her, a lot of things had clicked into place. Then when she’d taken her bra off too? Jesus, it’s a miracle she’d not spontaneously combusted right then and there. The image of Carla’s boobs is burned into her retinas and she’s pictured it pretty much every time she’s closed her eyes for longer than a second since seeing them.
It’s sort of cathartic, in a way, to finally be developing a sense of understanding around herself. She’d thought, for years, that she just had a bit of wonky wiring. Something had gone wrong when she was born and the part of her brain that’s supposed to fancy boys just hadn’t been plugged in.
But now she’s starting to get it.
Now, she wants to bury her head between Carla’s cleavage and suck. Wants her to comb her nails through her hair and beg her not to stop.
“Lisa?” Sharon waves her hand in front of her face to get her attention. “You alright, sweet? You’ve been in your own little world.”
“Sorry,” Lisa says, turning her attention back to the vegetables that she’s supposed to be chopping. They’re making soup; Sharon volunteers with her church three times a week, feeding the homeless. So they’re currently making enough leek and potato soup to feed the five thousand. “What did you say?”
“I asked how you’re finding sharing with Carla?” She presses again. “I know my daughter can be… a bit full on. She’s been through a lot.”
“It’s fine,” she says. Once again her mind flashes back to last night. To the taut muscles of Carla’s stomach. “She’s been nice enough.”
Sharon nods, then cuts into a potato and throws it into the saucepan. “When she lost her husband,” she begins to explain. Lisa squeezes her eyes shut. She doesn’t really want to hear about it, doesn’t think it’s anyone’s place to tell her these things except for Carla’s. “She went off the rails a bit. Drinking, partying… have sex with strangers. Women. Started to spend a lot of time on Canal Street. I think it’s her way of dealing with things. Not healthy, of course, but…”
“You don’t need to explain anything,” she cuts her off, hoping to call an end to the conversation. “Carla’s an adult, I think as long as she isn’t hurting anyone, it’s fine, isn’t it? Whatever works for her, right?”
Sharon hums. It doesn’t sound like she agrees. “I just wish she’d grow up a bit. Paul’s been gone for two years. I think it’s about time she packs all of this in, finds herself a nice man. This whole… lesbian performance… this isn’t who she is, is what I’m trying to explain. She’s a good person deep down. She's just lost her way.”
Lisa’s stomach coils tightly at the way Sharon’s talking about Carla, like she’s a child that’s doing it for attention.
“I don’t think being a lesbian makes her a bad person, Sharon,” she mutters weakly. It’s harder now, she thinks. She’s always known of the queer community, of the different labels and identities, but until last night she’s never considered that part of it might be applicable to her.
She’s certainly not considered that people might look at or treat her differently for it.
“No, of course not. Apologies, I’m probably not coming across right here. I just mean… she isn’t a lesbian, she’s had boyfriends since she was in nursery. This has all come about since Paul passed, I don’t think that’s a coincidence, do you?”
Lisa shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe not. I suppose I barely know her so I can’t really comment. But for what it’s worth, she seems pretty sure of herself, y’know? Like… she really seems to know who she is, and she’s confident about it.”
“Oh, yes. That’s our Carla. Full of confidence, always has been.”
—x—
“You have got to be fucking with me?!” Carla sounds like she’s in disbelief as Sharon shakes the box in front of them all, clearly dead proud of her ‘excellent idea’.
Lisa can’t think of much worse, and apparently neither can Carla.
“Mam, me and Carla are in our thirties. Don’t think I’ve played Twister since I was nine.” Rob chimes in, and please, God, let her listen to him.
Sharon shakes her head and takes the top off the box.
“Rubbish. Come on, family games night, we said. You all agreed.”
Lisa suppresses a groan. Carla doesn’t bother trying to hide hers, and neither does Rob. Ben smirks and kisses Lisa’s cheek, squeezes her hand which he’s been holding in her lap.
“Tenner says I’m more flexible than you,” he mutters to her.
She’s always had a competitive streak.
“Alright, you’re on.” She agrees with a smirk.
Carla’s laugh gains everyone’s attention.
“Tell me you’re a broke-arse student without telling me,” she laughs in Ben’s direction. “Go big or go home. Rob, £200 says I beat you.”
“Family game night is supposed to be about fun, not about betting against each other!” Johnny laughs from where he’s sitting on the sofa with a bottle of Stella in his hand. Clearly he has no intention of playing, and that’s confirmed when Sharon puts the spinner in his hand. “But I want in on that one, Carla.” He fishes his wallet from his pocket, and Carla bursts out laughing at the pure look of indignance on Rob’s face at his dad betting against him.
It had absolutely been a mistake.
She realises this when she’s got her right hand and foot on red, her left hand on yellow, and her left foot on green. She's basically on all fours in the middle of her boyfriends’ parents’ living room, and that’s not the worst of it. Carla’s in a similar position, except she’d gotten into this position after her and is twisted around her, specifically with her left leg on blue.
Right between Lisa’s thighs.
She can practically feel Carla’s heartbeat against her lower back where she’s hovering barely an inch above her.
They’ve both won their bets though, they’re the last two standing. Rob and Ben had both gone out on the third and fifth round respectively, and now it’s just the two of them left on the board.
“Lisa,” Johnny smirks when the spinner stops. “Right hand. Green.”
She considers throwing it for the sake of her own sanity.
How’s she even supposed to—
No, she’s far too competitive to give up. Rob makes a taunting noise as she twists her upper body from where she’s underneath Carla and then drops it half on, half off a green circle.
Now she’s twisted at her hips, and she’s very aware of the fact that she’s a couple of inches below Carla, their faces so close that she can feel the warmth of her breath tickling her lips.
God, of all the positions to find herself in…
Her muscles strain as she tries to hold the position, but she can barely breathe with being this close to her. “Carla,” Johnny says again. “Left foot on yellow.”
She holds her breath as Carla manoeuvres herself. She’s absolutely certain that she does it on purpose when she brushes her thigh between her legs and lifts it just enough to put pressure on her core. Fire flashes through her, and she—
Carla whimpers, and then before Lisa can register what’s happening, she’s on her back on the floor, Carla’s full body weight on top of her where she’s fallen and taken her down with her. She lets out a quite ‘ooft’ instinctively at the impact, but it’s drowned out by the sound of Carla laughing at her own misfortune.
Ben cheers loudly at the sight of his sister losing to his girlfriend, but Lisa can barely register it. All she can focus on is the feeling of Carla on top of her, of her breasts pressing against her own. Carla ducks her head and her hair frames Lisa’s face, then she looks down at her, slowly drags her gaze from her eyes to her lips, then back again, and smirks at her.
“Good game,” she whispers to her, breath tickling Lisa’s lips when she speaks.
Then she bites her bottom lip and shifts.
Lisa lets out an almost silent moan that’s mostly breath when Carla wedges her thigh firmly between her legs. It’s barely perceptible, not enough for anyone else to hear, but she knows that Carla’s heard it.
And then, before she can really organise her thoughts or pay much attention to the new ache at the apex of her thighs, Carla’s lifting herself off and offering her hand out to pull her up too.
And Lisa’s blushing. Again.
She wills it away, but of course she’s not that lucky. She can feel the tips of her ears burning, and if there was ever any possibility that Carla hasn’t clocked the way she reacts to her, it is most definitely gone now.
She’s utterly screwed.
She’s g-a-y.
It doesn’t take long, after that, for her to decide that it’s probably time to go to bed. If nothing else, she’ll avoid another Twister-induced-incident. She’s not entirely sure her heart rate can take anything like that happening again, so she says her ‘goodnights’ to everyone, kisses Ben on the cheek, and slopes off upstairs.
All she can do is pray that Carla’s going to go out again tonight.
But of course, she isn’t that lucky, and she’s not really sure that she wanted to be… deep down. She’s making her way back into the bedroom after showering and brushing her teeth, and in all honesty she hasn’t expected for one second that Carla would’ve already come up to bed too.
She opens the door, and the sight that greets her is completely unholy.
Carla’s bent over her chest of drawers, rummaging through them for God knows what.
And she’s starkers.
All Lisa sees is her bare arse on the other side of the room as soon as she opens the door. “Oh!” She exclaims, shocked by the sight. “Sorry.” She quickly pulls the door closed again. She’s about to lean against it and try to recompose herself, try to get the image of Carla’s backside out of her head and the air back in her lungs, when the door swings open again.
“Lise, it’s fine, you can come in,” she tells her with a glint in her eye that tells Lisa that she absolutely hasn’t heard the end of it.
No one ever really calls her ‘Lise’, but she kind of likes the way it sounds when Carla says it.
Carla’s at least made some attempt at putting clothes on — she’s quickly thrown on a cropped vest and a black, sheer pair of knickers. Lisa doesn’t need to look to know that it’s likely a thong, based on the fact that Carla clearly has very good taste in underwear. Probably comes part and parcel with the job.
She nods wordlessly, swallows thickly, then follows her back into the bedroom.
She was right, it is a thong.
She doesn’t think she’s going to survive the next thirteen nights if Carla’s going to insist on parading round the bedroom half naked. Her throat’s dried up completely and her heart’s thrumming against her ribcage so hard that she’s sure Ben and his parents can probably hear it from downstairs.
“Sorry,” she apologises again. “Didn’t think you’d be up here yet.”
“Thought I’d come and keep you company. Get to know my future-sister-in-law a bit.” The thought of marrying Ben one day almost knocks her sick. She’s never been particularly fond of the idea — had always assumed it’s because she’s so young and wants to focus on her degree and then her career for a while. But now she’s starting to realise that it’s not the idea of getting married that’s the problem, it’s the idea of marrying him.
“Right,” Lisa carries the ‘i’ when she speaks, her eyes fixed on Carla. She tries so hard not to drop her line of sight, but Carla’s cleavage is out and it looks so good. She really needs to get a grip, she can’t bloody carry on like this. “Listen, Carla, I’m really tired, so I’m just gon—”
“When are you planning on telling my little brother that you’re gay?” Carla cuts her off with a smirk.
Lisa feels like the walls are closing in on her. She knew Carla was pretty brazen, but she hadn’t expected that. She knew she’d been caught staring more than once. She knew, also, that Carla had heard her moan when she wedged her thigh between her legs earlier.
“What?” She blinks hard, decides playing dumb is the best option given how unexpected that had been. In all fairness, if someone had asked her last week if she was gay, she’d have told them that she wasn’t and she wouldn’t have been lying. “I don’t— I’m not gay…” Carla raises her eyebrows at her. Is she getting closer? Lisa’s sure she is. “I’m not.”
Something, something, the lady doth protest too much?
Carla keeps looking at her with that annoying, knowing look on her face. Lisa sinks under her gaze and starts stepping back towards the bed. It’s the only place she can really go right now without legging it from the room and sprinting back home, so she climbs into bed quickly and pulls the duvet up around herself.
Carla lets out a puff of air and rakes her fingers through her hair, then climbs onto the bed herself. She slips under the covers, and just when Lisa thinks she’s got away with it, she feels a warm hand slide under her t-shirt and rest on her hip.
“Hey,” Carla says softly from where she’s lying behind Lisa. She’s right in the middle of the bed. She isn’t breaching Lisa’s side yet, but she’s right on the cusp of it. “Lise, look at me,” she tells her in a tone that’s as husky as it is firm.
Lisa sighs and reluctantly rolls over. Carla keeps her hand exactly where it is, and as Lisa turns, her hand stays under her t-shirt. It grazes across her lower tummy then settles again on her opposite hip. Now that they’re facing one another, Carla shuffles in closer.
Clearly she no longer gives a shit about which side is whose.
She brings her other hand up and traces the blunts of her nails along Lisa’s hairline so gently that Lisa barely feels it, and instinctively she leans into it. It feels so good to be touched like this, so reverent and soft. Her eyes stay fixed on Carla, who isn’t saying a word as she trails her fingertips featherlight down the frame of her face.
Her breath hitches in her throat, and she couldn’t possibly look away if she tried. Carla’s gaze is so intense, she feels like she can see all of her deepest, darkest secrets when she looks into her eyes.
She’s never fantasized about anyone before, but now all she can think about is the things she wants Carla to do to her.
Carla’s nails scratch at her jawline — it’s just enough pressure for her to feel it, but before she can really enjoy the sensations, Carla’s resting her index and middle finger under her chin and rubbing the pad of her thumb slowly, agonisingly, along her bottom lip.
Lisa’s eyes flutter closed as she instinctively tilts her head just a fraction, leaning into Carla’s touch as Carla pulls her bottom lip down.
She’s positive Carla’s going to kiss her, she just wishes her heart rate would slow down enough for her to enjoy it.
When their noses bump together, Carla’s breathing deepens and she pulls her thumb away from where it’s still resting on her lower lip.
“You’re gay,” Carla whispers against her mouth.
Lisa takes a moment to register what’s just happened, blinks herself back into reality, then stares wide-eyed at Carla.
She feels like she could cry. She was so close.
“Goodnight, gorgeous,” Carla mutters before she pulls away completely, takes her hand back from where it’s been resting on Lisa’s hip all this time, and turns onto her other side.
Lisa’s left staring at the back of her head, trying to process what the hell just happened.
She’s not really sure of anything right now, but one thing is absolutely certain.
She’s fucked.
(She’s gay.)