FOURTEEN

"Who could ever leave me darling...

But who could stay?"

———

February 25th, 2018

Dorothea Jane Madison was in Taylor Swift's fucking bed.

She was lying against a Grammy-winner's white silk sheets. Her bare skin was pressed against what was undoubtedly the nicest fabric her body had ever touched. It was smooth and soft and if rich had a smell, it was those sheets.

She suddenly remembered reading during her pregnancy deep-dive on Google that her sex-drive might increase. She remembered getting lost in a forum where women described—in far too much detail—their almost insatiable desires for sex. Dorothea thought it all sounded a bit exaggerated, including the multiple (!) orgasms some claimed to have during one go. But when she felt Taylor's hands slide around her waist and her lips against her skin and the brush of her soft tawny hair graze her shoulders, her desire skyrocketed.

"Is this okay?" Through a star-dusted lens, Dorothea met the singer's eyes. Taylor was hovering over her, hands ever-so-gently trailing against her sides.

"Yes, mhm," Dorothea breathed, nodding fiercely. It was taking every bit of her not to sling her arms around the blonde's bare back and erase the space between them. It didn't seem like it could happen fast enough. She wanted to travel over every curve of the singer's perfect silhouette. She was drunk on the bittersweet taste of the red wine that lingered on the woman's lips; the jasmine and sandalwood scent of the candles that seemed to be burning in every room of that gorgeous penthouse.

After a moment, she added in a whisper, "Is this okay for you?"

Taylor nodded, her eyes flashing like diamonds in a cave. The smile she gave sent Dorothea's heart out of orbit. It felt as though they were on a rocket ship, soaring towards a galaxy of pastel clouds and glitter-paved streets and champagne snow. With the singer's lips trailing down her neck, a twisted, torturous feeling grew beneath her waist. Her breathing was feathery and soft, but was quickly becoming raspy and shallow.

When their lips met, Dorothea felt the woman's eyelashes brush against her cheeks, the heat coming from her skin. There was something about it that felt utterly fake. The feeling of Taylor's perfectly manicured fingers slipping through her hair and the delicate form of her body against her own were very real, and yet she was just waiting for the woman to vaporize.

Beneath the twisted satin covers, Dorothea slid her foot up the singer's leg and around her thigh. Perhaps like ivy on a trellis, if she laced herself through every crevice of the woman's figure, it would be impossible for her to disappear; impossible for them to be separated. Even with the tiny secret growing inside of her, it suddenly seemed imperative that her After included the pop singer.

It was bizarre how something so delicate and pure came crashing into the waves of the unthinkable. How hours after her life was ripped in half, there was an unexpected, monumental twist. The timing was strange, yet comforting. And with that it felt fragile. As much as Dorothea wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, it seemed too good to be true; wafer-thin; like a soap bubble seconds away from popping dreamily into an endless sky.

She was scared of what she couldn't control. She was terrified of sharing the secret growing inside of her, because such a revelation like that would surely shatter the wispy, delightful thing between her and Taylor.

It didn't seem possible to have one without losing the other.

"I can't believe I met you," Dorothea whispered.

She felt the singer's movements slow, and Taylor hummed against her chest. "I'm more surprised than you are."

Dorothea bit her lip, sliding her other foot around Taylor's leg and earning a soft moan from her parted lips. The sound ran right through her bloodstream and the ache in her core almost throbbed. She could feel her breath quickening and her thoughts becoming less coherent. She wanted the singer. She needed to feel her erase everything that she no longer wanted feel. Right as she was about to grab the blonde's hand, she gasped audibly, eyes shooting open into the dimly lit room .

"I want you—I want you so bad," she panted.

"I want you more,"

"Oh my god—" Dorothea felt Taylor's heart drum wildly against her own. Hot skin meeting hot skin, breaths out of sync, demanding one another to go just a little bit more. Every slip between their limbs invited her to weave herself further into the woman—encountered a second time in her wild After only by something as inexplicable as fate—that she now knew she couldn't stand to lose.

But then out of nowhere, a sharp, serpent-like pain strangled her core, and Dorothea screamed out into the darkness.

———

The trace of the brunette's perfume sent Taylor up into a galaxy of honey and lavender. When her lips met Dorothea's neck, it felt as though she was absorbing a firestorm of glitter. Drunk Taylor's desire burned hotter with each passing second; she wanted to slow down and yet it felt like all she could do was continue flying at warp speed.

The mysterious girl was breathtaking in the shadows among them. There was so much she didn't know about her, but in the dreamy mist of her pleasure there was the realization that she had time. Time to learn her favorite book or season, about her family and friends, what she loved about Texas and what she'd never miss. Time to get to know her highest hopes, dreams, and deepest fears. As Dorothea's delicate hands traveled her skin, Drunk Taylor was reminded that she didn't have to fear the unknown.

"I can't believe I met you," Dorothea sighed beneath her.

Taylor felt as though she was melting. She slid down the brunette's frame, her lips lingering along the way. She could feel the humming bird flutter of Dorothea's pulse: thumpthumpthumpthump. "I'm more surprised than you are," she admitted softly.

Taylor suddenly felt a moan escape her as she and the younger woman became intertwined. Thump thump thump thump. In all of the moments she found herself imagining this next chapter of her life, she'd been solo. For the sake of protecting herself, she'd abandoned the idea of having a life and a career. Any attempt in the past only seemed to slip out of her grasp, crashing and burning before she even had a fighting chance to save it. It left her hurt, sad, and at its worst, hopelessly bitter.

But here she was, laced beneath her sheets, drunk on wine and possibility. Just when her bitter armor started to feel comfortable, she was suddenly filled to the brim with the sweetness of another soul touching her own. As scared as she was, it was impossible not to let it flood through. Taylor wanted nothing more than to drown in the river of gold that was Dorothea's eyes; to lose the last bits of herself that were meant to be left behind, now that it seemed like pain would no longer be the only feeling she was capable of.

When it felt as though Dorothea was begging her for more, Taylor drifted down between her legs. The brunette's hips instantly shot upward, and her core went into knots. Thump thump thump. The sound of Dorothea's fairy-like breaths banged through her ears like fists on a drum.

The brunette gasped. "I want you—I want you so bad—"

Taylor slid her hands between her thighs, trailing underneath her bare bottom. She felt wild. "I want you more."

"Oh—Oh my god—" Taylor's body was almost rigid with twisted desire. She felt Dorothea's perfect nails sink against her shoulders, coaxing her to go faster. She pressed her lips against the brunette's collarbone and felt the girl's legs hook around her like a vice. In a matter of a breath she slipped inside of her and felt every unspoken word between them explode in blinding stardust.

Dorothea screamed.

But it was so loud and agonized that Sober Taylor's blood ran ice cold. She shot backward and up to her knees, yet also felt the brunette immediately grip her arm.

"No! Please!" Dorothea exclaimed, "Don't stop!"

Taylor was frozen above the girl's shimmering gaze, the sound still echoing throughout her mind.

"I'm sorry—Taylor, please!" Dorothea took her hand and placed it against her skin.

Taylor's heart drummed. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You didn't, trust me—"

"It sounded like you were in pain," she said. She forced as gentle of a smile as she could bear. "Seriously, we can stop. It's okay."

"But it's not you! It's—"

Thump thump.

Dorothea's words evaporated into the space between them. Taylor waited for her to continue, her mind going in a thousand different directions as to how that sentence was supposed to end. She sensed the brunette's breathing growing shallow beneath her. Frustrated. Yet it was also very clear that she was trying to hide whatever physical pain she wasn't admitting to.

"It's cramps," she whispered.

A tidal wave of relief washed through Taylor's senses. She wanted to laugh, but instead she smiled knowingly. "Is that all?"

Dorothea hesitated, but then nodded. "Yeah, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Taylor assured. She began to trace gentle circles over the brunette's skin. "But can I get you something? Ibuprofen, Tylenol, Midol—I have pretty much everything."

Another moment of silence, but then Dorothea shook her head and smiled. "I'm okay, thanks." She looked off into the distance, biting her lip. Taylor could feel her hand slide over her thigh tentatively.

Dorothea's eyes suddenly snapped back to her's. "Would it be okay if I..."

"Absolutely." Taylor pulled the covers up over them and felt the other woman immediately fill the remaining space at her side. She smiled as she watched the girl sigh heavily, but frowned when she witnessed her profile contort in discomfort.

"I'm getting you something," she determined, but right as she shifted to get up she felt a hand with nude-polished fingernails lock around her arm.

And so without another word, Taylor lowered herself next to the mysterious brunette. For a moment, she watched the steady rhythm of her figure rising and falling with each breath. As her eyes grew heavy, she noticed that while Dorothea's one hand remained wrapped around her arm, the other was draped protectively over her own waist.

As though if she covered up her pain, the source of it would magically disappear.