Under the Pepper Tree

No matter what, this was not a date.

Libby had no reason to think it was. It was drinks. With two people. Two people do drinks all the time. It's the most normal thing.

She felt a buzz in her pocket and checked her phone. A message from Viv that just read "relaaaaax boo". Really helpful. She shoved her phone back in her pocket.

Libby's hand shook as she reached towards the shelf for a bottle of red. She quickly retracted her arm and stuffed it under her other arm. If she didn't pull herself together Darcy was not going to feel at all like she was having casual drinks with a friend.

She tried desperately to think of all the times she and other friends had caught up for drinks alone but she kept coming up blank. Still, it was definitely a normal thing to do.

She tried to focus on picking something to drink. Darcy told her to grab a bottle "of something". Normally she'd go for vodka or another spirit, but Darcy mustn't have meant vodka, otherwise she would had said "and a mixer". Libby's next choice would have been beer, but if Darcy had wanted beer she wouldn't have said to grab "a bottle", she'd say "six pack" or "carton". The logical conclusion was that Darcy meant a bottle of wine. A liquor with which Libby was wholly unfamiliar. The entire decision-making process would have been a lot easier if someone wasn't standing in her peripheral vision staring at her. Libby finally spun her head to face the figure, only to find a grinning Darcy.

The following are two facts about Libby: 1) When she's nervous she has no volume control, and will opt to yell rather than speak. 2) In order to seem casual, Libby has adopted a blunt and seemingly standoffish tonality.

The result? Libby shouted "HI." at a 1.5 metre away Darcy.

"Wow. OK. Hi." Darcy replied, laughing coolly. "Is there a reason you're staring angrily at the Pepper Tree?" Darcy asked.

A horrifically embarrassed Libby followed Darcy's gaze to a bottle of Merlot in front of her labeled "Pepper Tree" and realised her arms were still tucked tightly across her chest.

"It called me a dyke."

Darcy let out a explosive laugh, much to Libby's relief. She then grabbed the bottle off the shelf and walked over to the counter. Libby followed, wondering why on earth she would bring up anything lesbian-y around Darcy.

"$17? On one bottle?" she questioned, changing the topic.

"I know," replied Darcy, still smiling from the joke. "Thought we should treat ourselves tonight."

Libby chose not to infer anything from that comment. She noticed what looked like a new tattoo poking out from under one of Darcy's sleeves. A sombre reminder of Libby's crippling indecision; unable to choose her first tattoo despite thinking they're objectively insanely attractive.

"C'mon, my apartment's this way," Darcy said, as she marched out of the store. Libby hurried her little legs to keep up. Someone to their left wolf whistled; Darcy had her middle finger up to them before Libby had worked out where it'd come from. Darcy continued to talk, seemingly unbothered.

"Lib, it's come to my attention that I know almost nothing about you. I know it probably says more about my incessant need to fill silence than you being quiet or anything, but I wanna know some things."

"Ask away, I'm an open book," Libby replied. She couldn't imagine Darcy finding anything about her particularly interesting. An intrusive thought entered her mind; Darcy think you're mysterious, she'll lose interest as she gets to know you. She pushed out that thought as best she could.

Darcy turned to give Libby a mischievous looks. "Smart, you're putting the pressure on me to think of interesting questions..."

"Definitely smart, and not lazy," Libby replied dryly. Darcy laughed again.

"Either way! First question. Are your parents still together?"

"Oh cool, we're doing those kinds of questions." Libby followed Darcy into an apartment building and up two flights of stairs. "If you must know, yes, they are still together. They're in love, and it's disgusting."

Darcy held open her unit door and Libby entered. "That's wild," Darcy said. "Imagine getting married and staying married."

"I honestly can't." Libby took in the unit, or what there was of it. It was small and cluttered, clean but messy. "Fish?" Libby wandered over to a tank.

"Housemate's. Don't ask. Actually, yeah, don't. I'm asking the questions." she rustled up two wine glasses from the kitchen and popped open the Merlot. "Feel free not to answer if this is too personal but... what's your favourite colour?"

"Darcy, please." Libby turned to give Darcy the most deadpan expression. "It's fucked up that you'd ask me that."

"No you're right, I thought we'd reached that level of trust, but I won't push that boundary again."

Libby pretended to check that the coast was clear, then mouthed "yellow" like it was a secret. "Now, don't tell anyone." She turned back to the tank, to the sound of Darcy's laugh. She was getting good at making her laugh.

"You have my word. Alright next question, when was your first kiss, and when did you lose your virginity? Or have sex first. Losing your virginity is a dumb concept."

"Agreed," said Libby, counting the little fish in the tank. 1, 2, 3... 4, 5? "Six, and depending on your definition, sixteen or nineteen."

"Jesus, six? I was twelve. And I presume sixteen was oral and nineteen was with a boy penis?" Darcy offered her a glass. Libby's throat tightened.

"Strap-on."

Darcy's eyes widened. She pulled Libby over to the couch. "Holy shit, you didn't waste time, did you? No more questions, just tell me everything."

"Oh, god. Really? It was clumsy and I was nervous."

"Well, yeah of course. How'd it happened though?"

"Uhh, they were older. Twenty-three. We met my at my old job, I guess she was the first obviously not straight woman I'd come across. So yeah, I was immediately kind of infatuated. It was silly, just a casual thing. But, I'm glad it happened." Libby took a big sip of the wine in her hand, trying to indicate that the story had finished. "Oh, wow. This is $17 wine."

"Don't change the subject."

"What do you mean? What else you do want to know?" Libby was laughing now at Darcy's interrogating.

"Nothing!" Darcy protested. For the first time ever, Libby noticed a little crack in her confident persona. "It's just- it's a big deal, I'm sure it had quite the effect on you."

Maybe it was the wine, but Libby was starting to feel more in control of the situation. "Well, yeah it did. I didn't like the idea of a strap-on at first. You know, the whole lesbians-still-needing-a-penis aspect of it. But that's not what it was like at all... it wasn't even about how good it felt. It was just so... hot. Empowering even."

Darcy clutched her glass against her chest, seemingly unaware that she'd emptied it.

Libby continued. "Like, I was young back then so I was more than happy being the sub. I was way too nervous to try the strap-on myself. But I still think about it sometimes. The idea of getting off only on what you're doing to the other person? No physical stimulation? Full body contact, intimate... oof, I need to do that sometime, hey."

Darcy grabbed Libby's glass and rushed over to the kitchen for a top up. "Fuck, dude." Dude? She seemed genuinely flustered. "You can't go talking like that, I haven't fucked in over a fortnight."

"You asked."

"Yeah, OK, I know." Darcy looked so cute when she let down her guard like this. "I take full responsibility. But now I'm just all... ugh." She'd filled the glasses a bit too much in order to finish the bottle.

"Got the horns, Darc?" Libby asked, teasing. She couldn't tell if they were flirting, or if this was the far end of platonic.

"Shut up," Darcy said, laughing and handing Libby her glass back. She sat back down, grinning, and avoiding eye contact. There was a short silence as they both took a deep sip.

"Anyway, it's time for-" Darcy started, but Libby interrupted.

"There you go."

"What?"

"Filling that silence."

Darcy was truly on the back foot now. "Oh, come on!" she implored. "I didn't invited you over here to sit in silence." She pulled her phone out of her pocket. "Fine."

Within 30 seconds the familiar tune of My Hands by Running Touch was playing from a stereo by the TV. She tossed her phone onto the coffee table, took another sip of her wine, and stared defiantly at the corner of the room. Libby smiled. Lifting her glass to her lips, she downed what was left and stood up. Darcy gave her an inquisitive frown. Libby shrugged, and started to move to the beat of the song.

"My hands... my hands weren't made to love... you..." went the song.

Libby picked up the tempo a little, encouraged by the the wine hitting her all at once. Her oversized shirt felt like a dress as she moved. Closing her eyes, she let go of everything in the world except her body and the beat.

Until a moment later when Darcy's body was against hers. She slid her arms around to Libby's back and moved with her. Libby suddenly felt so small, only just reaching Darcy's chin. She looked up to meet Darcy's dark gaze, hopped up onto her toes and kiss the woman she'd spent eight months trying to stop thinking about. And she kissed back, pulling Libby close and holding her head firmly.

The pair shuffled back over to the couch and fell heavily into the cushions. Darcy had never looked so beautiful than in this moment, all nerves and desire. Neither of them noticed that the song was on repeat. Libby set the pace, straddling Darcy and placing a stray thumb across her neck. Darcy moaned quietly into Libby's ear, and so she pressed a little harder on her neck. Her other hand found its way under Darcy's pants. Darcy was now grinding up into Libby. She let out a small gasp as Libby slipped two fingers inside and pressed upwards. As Libby found a rhythm, Darcy's legs shuddered gently underneath.

A quiver went up Darcy's body at the same time as there was a loud smash. Libby spun her head to see that Darcy's hand had collided with one of their glasses which had broken and cut her. Badly.

"Oh, Fuck!" Libby breathed, a little dazed still.

The following are two facts about Darcy: 1) She has a high pain tolerance. 2) She values humour above all things.

The result? Darcy yelled, "HA! You spoke first!" at the woman who still had a two fingers in her.

The two started laughing uncontrollably. Libby removed her fingers and tried to find a cloth of some kind within arm's reach.

"You're bleeding so badly!" Libby managed through laughter, giving up and taking her shirt off to use as a bandage.

Darcy was still laughing too, paying no attention to her hand which was freely bleeding onto the floor. Libby wrapped the hand as best she could and fumbled for her phone. She got a little bit of blood on the screen as she typed "000" and tucked it between her ear and shoulder.

"You're an idiot," she said endearingly to Darcy.

"I think I'm fine, go back to what you were doing," Darcy replied, just as someone answered the phone. Libby shook her head, smiling, as she answered the woman's questions.

-

Libby hopped into the ambulance behind Darcy and found a spot to sit. Darcy had gotten very light headed in the interim, and was clutching Libby's wrist with her free hand.

"Lib," Darcy said weakly.

"Yeah?"

"Do you own a strap-on?"

Libby saw a smile flash across paramedic's face as she pretended not to listen.

"No, I don't."

"Can you get one?"

Libby laughed. "Yeah, I can get one," she soothed the woozy lady.

Libby's phone buzzed in her lap and she instinctively accepted the call.

"Viv? Everything OK?"

"Hey, Lib. I just finished work, figured I'd check in... are those sirens?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm in an ambulance."

"Shit, are you alright? What happened?"

Libby looked over at the smiling face of the woman she was at high risk of falling in love with.

"I think I'm on a date."