#pearlet

***

“Hello there.”

Violet looked up from her desk, and over at Trixie, who was standing in the door to Fame’s suite.

“Trixie, I mean, coach,” Violet stood up, smoothing down her skirt. She hadn’t heard anything from her boss all week, and she had been dying to see him. “I mean-”

Violet cut herself off, taking a quick breath to compose herself.

“It’s good to see you.” She couldn’t remember being this flustered the last time she was Fame’s assistant, but it felt like she was barely holding it together.

“It’s good to see you too,” Trixie smiled, the man wearing a canary yellow sweater and purple pleated pants, and Violet suddenly missed design and the design team so much that it hurt.

“Are you here to see Miss Fame?”

“Actually,” Trixie walked over to her desk, “I’m here to see you.”

“Really?” Violet had to bite back a smile, a flash of warmth at the consideration blooming in her chest, “because I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” She reached into the top drawer, pulling out her notebook. “I realized that the second fitting is late next week and it’d be difficult to fit into the schedule, but I’ve done some calculations and if I could get it back from tailoring, I think I’d be able to finish it myself. Not that I don’t trust tailoring.”

Violet did not, in fact, trust tailoring,

“I just think the end result might be a little better if I-”

“Violet.” Trixie cut her off, a somewhat sad expression in his eyes. “Hasn’t anybody told you?”

“Told me what?”

“Fame wants to keep you. At least for a while yet. Until someone else is settled in.”

Violet felt her heart drop, what Trixie just said washing over her, her stomach twisted so tight it hurt.

“-And don’t worry about your dress. It’s in good hands...”

Violet realized Trixie was still speaking, his mouth moving even as she couldn’t concentrate on the words.

“It’ll all be fine. Right?” Trixie smiled, reaching out and squeezing her shoulder. “You’re a tough girl.”

Violet didn’t want to, but she felt herself nodding, her body agreeing even though she felt like she was drowning.

***

“Okay, I know you’re a bit skeptical about doing Britney, and I don’t blame you, but I think you’re gonna like the new arrangement,” Olivia said, handing Courtney a pair of headphones.

Olivia really liked Courtney. She was bright-eyed and cute, but also sharp and thoughtful.

And even though it was surprising to see Bianca so committed to anyone, she was happy to roll with it, since this demo was turning into one of her more enjoyable projects. After all, one of Bianca’s trademark moves was spoiling the women in her life with over-the-top and insanely expensive gifts--something she herself had once benefitted from, back when they first met.

Courtney listened to the song, face pensive, nodding a little, and Olivia felt victorious. She’d spent a lot of time working on the new arrangement of Britney’s “Crazy” so that it fit Courtney’s range and style, and she was really hoping Courtney would go for it, even though she’d at first been skeptical about covering the music of Ms. Spears.

“I just want to make sure it really shows off my voice, you know,” she’d insisted, twirling a lock of hair, “I want her to take me seriously. And Britney was never really known for vocals. That sounds mean, but I just-”

“No, I get your point.”

And Olivia did, all too well. Courtney was a young blonde with a pretty face and high energy. It would be all too easy for her to be turned into nothing but a sexy pin-up with a dance track, used up and spit out by the pop music industrial complex. And while she was quite confident that Charlie wouldn’t ever participate in that, it was nice to see Courtney speaking up for herself, even as tentatively as she was.

“Charlie will definitely take you seriously,” Olivia had promised. “In fact, I’d have already sent her a copy of your last session, but I know she’s a perfectionist and so I want to make sure it’s your very best work.”

She leaned back in her chair, watching Courtney’s face carefully as she finished listening to the track. Her expression was a bit inscrutable, and Olivia was dying to know what she thought. When she finally put down the headphones, a big smile spread across her face.

“So? What do you think?”

“It’s so good! It sounds like an entirely different song! You’re like, a musical genius, aren’t you?”

“Stop it some more,” Olivia told her, a twinkle in her eye.

Courtney giggled. “I’m serious! I’m so lucky to be working with you.”

“Well, what can I say? Bianca has great taste in friends.”

“Yeah...” Courtney’s smile faltered a little. After a moment, she added a cheeky, “Sometimes.”

“No comment on that!” Olivia exclaimed, laughing.

She knew exactly who Courtney was referring to.

Their whole group referred to them as Bianca’s OG Friends, the ones who only showed up at black tie events, who seemingly had no interest in associating with anyone below the highest tax bracket and only had eyes for each other. She shook her head, saying a little prayer that Courtney would stick with Bianca through their scrutinizing gazes and harsh judgments. Because in spite of all the raised eyebrows about Bianca’s commitment issues, the two of them did seem happy.

“Come on, let’s get to work.”

***

Violet felt like slamming her head on the table as she gathered her things. It was Friday evening and she had just finished her 7th and last interview of the day, but yet again, the candidate had been completely wrong.

Sure, she had been pretty and competent, and even wearing designer, but as Violet had rattled off Fame’s coffee order, she had seen her nose threaten to crinkle, had seen a sneer bloom in the corner of her mouth, the other woman obviously finding the order ridiculous.

If she had found a coffee order absurd, there was no way she would survive Fame firing off commands or sharing her takeout orders or taking down how she wanted her clothes treated at the dry cleaners.

Violet honestly felt like screaming, had since Trixie had swung by the office that morning, and she had no idea how to deal with it. Over the course of the week she had tried going to the gym, which hadn’t worked out. She had tried throwing herself into work but that only made her depressed, and even orgasms turned out to be nothing more than temporary distractions.

So far, it was just being around Sutan and being in his company that seemed to work the best.

Unfortunately, her boyfriend was out again tonight. It didn’t usually bother Violet that Sutan was busy, their schedules usually lining up fairly well, but she didn’t like to feel needy, didn’t like to ask him to change his plans for her, not when she could get by on her own.

Violet opened the door, stepping out into the hall, ready to lock the conference room behind her, when she saw a familiar head of blonde hair leaning against the wall just down the hall.

“Pearl?” Violet tilted her head, surprised to see Pearl.

“Vivi!” Pearl grinned, pushing away, the move looking annoyingly cool, her friend wearing a leather jacket even though it was snowing outside.

“Don’t call me that.” It was an automatic response, the words leaving her before she could stop them. “What are you doing here?” Violet took a step forward, Pearl’s presence a puzzle she couldn’t leave alone.

“I’m on the prowl, obviously,” Pearl smiled, throwing her blonde hair over her shoulder, her thick curls effortlessly gorgeous. “Nothing beats girls that have just had their dreams crushed.”

“Pearl!” Violet gasped, her mouth falling open, outrage rushing through her. “That’s so immoral-”

“I’m kidding,” Pearl laughed, and Violet huffed, her friend’s charm no longer as captivating.

“You’re not.”

“I’m not,” Pearl took a step forward, “but none of them compare to you.”

“You’re saying I’ve had my dreams crushed?”

“I’m saying that it can’t be easy being back in Fame’s office.”

Violet raised an eyebrow, unsure how to respond. She did feel like her dreams had been crushed, design feeling like it was lightyears away once again.

“So, what do you say?” Pearl looked at her, and Violet swore she could smell her perfume and the cigarette smoke underneath that always lingered on Pearl’s clothes.

“To what?” Violet was fairly certain Pearl hadn’t asked a question, though her habit of not listening when others besides Miss Fame were talking had gotten exponentially worse over the last few days.

“Going out?” Pearl smiled. “Since you’re obviously the best of the bunch, and I’m in desperate need of a date to get black out drunk with.”

Violet wanted to say no, she did, going out with Pearl was a certain recipe for disaster, but then, on the other hand.

Maybe a little bit of disaster was what she needed right now.

“Okay.”

***

“Honey, I’m home!” Symone sang jokingly, tossing her bag to the ground and heading into the kitchen.

Gigi was standing at the counter, a puzzled expression on her face as she consulted her phone.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I was supposed to cook the vegetables ahead of time,” Gigi said, gesturing to some very soggy-looking tortilla pizzas. “Jesus Christ, how did I mess up such a simple recipe?”

Symone laughed. “Don’t ask me, I can barely boil water. Hello, by the way.”

“Hi. Sorry.” Gigi put down her phone and turned towards Symone with a sheepish smile. “How’d it go?”

“Pretty good, I think. There were a lot of girls there but they took extra time with me, so, fingers crossed…”

She stepped up closer, not super interested in recounting all the details of her go-see. What she really wanted was a kiss. She placed her hands on Gigi’s shoulders and leaned forward. At the last second, Gigi turned her head slightly, giving Symone her cheek.

It wasn’t what Symone had anticipated, but she pressed a soft kiss to Gigi’s cheek. After a moment of awkward silence, Symone finally ventured to ask what was really on her mind.

“Are you mad at me?”

Gigi’s hazel eyes widened. “No! Why...why would you think that?” she stammered out.

“Well. I dunno. It’s just that you...haven’t wanted to kiss me since last night, when we were drinking. So…”

“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped slightly as she shook her head. “I’m sorry, I really...I’m an idiot.”

“You’re definitely not that,” Symone told her, giving a smile. She wasn’t sure what Gigi was going through, but it seemed like it was definitely something, and she wanted to be supportive. “But...maybe, do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“I just don’t really know how to…” Gigi bit her lip, tears filling her eyes.

“Hey! Whatever it is, you can tell me.” Symone sat down on one of the kitchen stools, patting the one beside her.

“Well…” Gigi perched on the edge of the stool, teeth still worrying her bottom lip. “See, I’ve never really...um…”

“Yes?”

“Well, like, in junior high, I went out with Jason Martinez. But all that meant was that we held hands in the hallways between classes for like 2 weeks. And then, uh...after that, I never…um-”

“Gigi?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you trying to say that I’m your first girlfriend?”

A pink blush began creeping into Gigi’s cheeks as she nodded. Symone put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“That’s okay, you know. It’s not like I have that much experience either,” she admitted, giving a slight chuckle.

“You don’t?”

“No,” Symone said. “I mean I...I guess I have a little more with guys. But...not with girls.”

Gigi let out a sound that sounded almost like a sigh of relief. “I just assumed...I don’t know, you seem so... cool . And like...sure of yourself.”

“It’s all smoke and mirrors, baby. Fake it til you make it!”

Gigi giggled, nodding. “So then...is it okay, if we kind of...take things slow?”

“It’s totally okay,” Symone assured her. Inside, she couldn’t help wondering how much slower things could possibly get, but she figured that was a concern for another day.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m so awkward, and-”

“I told you, it’s all good. I really like you.” Symone reached out and squeezed her hand.

Gigi nodded, her cheeks still red, but she managed to squeeze Symone’s hand right back. “Sorry.”

“Do you want a hug?”

“Yes! Yes, please.” Gigi’s face softened and Symone pulled her into a warm embrace, hugging her tightly.

***

Courtney sighed deeply, enjoying the feeling of Bianca’s arms wrapped around her. The two of them were cuddled on the sofa in the den, the TV droning in the background on a low volume, neither of them paying attention to what was on.

They’d settled there when Bianca got home from work, had barely moved for the better part of an hour except to trade slow, lazy kisses.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go out for dinner?” Bianca murmured into Courtney’s hair.

“Mmhmm…” She snuggled closer.  “I just want to be here with you.”

It had been a long, emotional week, and Courtney knew that Bianca was likely as exhausted as she was--maybe more. Getting dressed up to go to a restaurant, or worse, going out to some bar or club, was the last thing either of them needed.

“Okay,” Bianca whispered. A few moments later, when Courtney’s stomach let out an audible rumble, she laughed. “It sounds like you’re ready to eat, though. Wanna order something?”

“Okay.”

Bianca shifted, about to reach for her phone, but Courtney pulled her back.

“Don’t get up! Just stay here with me...five more minutes.”

“Anything you want, angel.” Bianca dropped a kiss to the crown of her head and settled back against the cushions.

***

Violet felt like she was flying, her body moving to the music, her arms over her head. She was drowning in a sea of bodies, the bass vibrating in her bones. Pearl’s hands were on her hips, her blonde hair flying around her face as she danced with abandon, Pearl never caring if anyone was looking, never giving a shit if anyone was judging.

It was one of things Violet liked best about her.

It made her feel carefree, invincible, like she could do anything, like she could be anyone, like nothing mattered.

She closed her eyes, allowing the music to wash over her, to swallow everything up, Pearl’s hands the only thing tethering her to reality.

*

“Come on Vivi,” Pearl laughed, pulling Violet along with her, their fingers intertwined as she held her hand. “You’re impossible to get off the floor!”

“Please,” Violet whined, though she still stumbled behind Pearl on unsteady legs, “I just want to dance.”

“Let’s get you some water first.” It wasn’t in Pearl’s nature to be this responsible, but tonight, she didn’t even have to think about it, Violet like a cross between a baby deer and a sexy vampire.

A very sexy vampire who happened to wear Pearl’s clothes, since they had both agreed that Violet couldn’t go clubbing in a blouse. The outfit change happened to be both a blessing and a curse, Violet looking like a fucking sin in her tight black corset top.

“I want drinks,” Violet pouted, and Pearl laughed, the two of them making it to the bar without any accident. Violet took a seat on a chair, flagging down the bartender who noticed them right away, Violet leaning over the bar to give her order and pay, milky white thighs on display as her mini skirt rode up, and that was when Pearl noticed it.

“Wait-” Pearl reached out, hooking a finger in Violet’s skirt.

“Pearl?!” Violet looked over her shoulder, her mouth open as she reached down and grabbed her skirt. “What are you doing?!”

“Admiring the view,” Pearl grinned, tugging on the edge of Violet’s skirt, her lace panties and garter belt on display. “Can’t a girl take a look?”

“A girl can not,” Violet twisted around, her body trapped between Pearl and the bar desk, her hand on top of Pearl’s as she forced her skirt back in place. “Look at our own if you want frilly underwear.”

“I’m wearing jeans,” Pearl laughed, their chests practically touching with how close they were standing, “and briefs.”

“Good for you.” Violet raised a brow, her tone completely dry.

“Not interested in checking me out?” Pearl bumped her hips against Violet, both of them distracted as their drinks turned up though Violet didn’t pull away.

“You know I have a boyfriend.” Violet took their glasses, handing one to Pearl.

“Urgh,” Pearl made a face, taking a sip of her rum and diet coke, Violet knowing her order by heart. “Don’t remind me that you’re tragically straight.”

“Bisexual.” Violet took a sip of her vodka. “Not straight-”

“Violet Chachki?!”

Pearl turned her head, a black-haired man with fantastic cheekbones just coming up to the bar.

“Kade?!” Violet smiled, clearly elated to see him. “What are you doing here?”

“Violet!” Kade grabbed her wrist, shaking it. He was wearing a red leather jacket and red leather pants, a white shirt underneath. “Omigod omigod you have no fucking idea how relieved I am to see you here!” he cried, then muttered something in her ear.

“You need what?” Violet furrowed her brow, confused, the music too loud for her to hear Kade properly.

“I…I need a…” Kade repeated the word, but neither Violet nor Pearl understood.

“A what?” Pearl leaned in now too, moving her hair to listen better.

“A pad!” he exclaimed louder, slapping a palm on his forehead. “I need a pad, like a maxi pad. Fuck. Sorry. Do you have one? The bathroom here doesn’t even have fucking toilet paper-“

“Yeah that checks out,” Pearl cringed.

“So it’s kind of an urgent situation-”

“I might have a tampon, but-” Violet reached into her bra to fish out her wardrobe number, but then, she stopped, her hand under her shirt. “Wait? What? A maxi pad? Why?”

“For…” Kade raised an eyebrow. “Violet, you know I’m trans, right?”

“Trans?” Violet cocked her head, clearly confused. “But…so should I be calling you she?”

Pearl bit the inside of her cheek, knowing how mortified Violet would be if she’d had this exchange sober. As it was, she looked like she was trying to work out a complicated math problem.

“No, I’m a trans guy!” Kade laughed, his fingers still around Violet’s wrist. “Omigod, gorge, how much have you had to drink?”

“She’s had a rough day. Here ya go bud.” Pearl passed over a stack of cocktail napkins, shaking her head. “Try this.”

“Omigod, thank you, you life-saving angel princess!” Kade exclaimed. “Stay right there, I’ll be back!”

***

“Alaska!” Adore’s eyes lit up as she spotted her date, towering above the crowd in 4-inch heels and teased hair. She was already tall, but in a sea of women who were mostly in Docs and Timberland boots, she was an absolute Glamazon.

Alaska caught her gaze, the corners of her eyes crinkling as a grin split her face in two.

“Hieee,” she cooed softly as Adore pulled her in for a hug. “So glad I found you!”

“Totally, I’ve been looking forward to seeing you for...well, awhile,” Adore said, trailing off with a self-conscious little giggle, aware that her energy often scared people off.

But Alaska only smiled again, nodding. “Me too.”

They gazed at each other with matching dopey grins until Adore broke the spell by clearing her throat and saying, “Um, here...I got this for you.”

Adore handed Alaska one of the bottles of Corona that she’d procured from the bar. She figured it was a safe choice, but the way Alaska eyed it as she accepted made her cringe. Should definitely have gone with wine. Or champagne. Or maybe just asked Alaska what she wanted; that was probably a better idea.

“We can get something else if you-”

“No, this is great. Cheers?” She held out her bottle for Adore to awkwardly clink.

“So...uh, I hope you like this band. They’re new. My friend is in it. Well...not really my friend. She’s kind of...uh…”

Adore’s face scrunched up, wondering how to describe Valentina.

“Ex?” Alaska offered, then added a cheeky, “Crush?”

“No!” Adore laughed. “She’s like...sort of family, but not. Family-ish.”

“Alright…”

The truth was, Bianca didn’t even know that Adore was friends with Valentina. They’d only officially met once, years ago, when Adore went with Bianca to LA for a visit. And when Adore brought her up last year, when Val moved to New York, Bianca had changed the subject fairly quickly. Adore hadn’t pushed it. She knew that Bianca’s relationship with Val’s mom was strained at best, but that wasn’t Val’s fault.

“Anyway, her band is great, so I want to support her. And...I can’t think of anyone better to do it with.”

“You sure you have nobody cooler than me to hang out with on a Friday night?” Alaska laughed.

“Bitch, you’re cool. Look at you!”

“If you say so. I’ll admit, when you told me that the show started at eleven, I thought I may have heard wrong.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re not cool,” Adore giggled. “That just means you have like, a job.”

“Thank you.”

“And maybe you need to get out more,” she added, making Alaska burst out laughing again, a wonderful laugh that made Adore feel warm all through her chest.

“Maybe...maybe you can help me with that.”

“Gladly!” Adore said, slinging a leather-clad arm around Alaska’s waist. In the back of her mind, there was still that nagging voice, reminding her that Alaska may be down for some fun, but that her heart belonged to someone else. It was good, in a way. It would prevent Adore from getting too attached, too quickly. And besides, if fun was what she was looking for, she’d come to exactly the right place.

***

Sutan was in the back of a cab, taking notes on his phone about the event he had just left. It had been a PR party for a brand new makeup brand called Glossier, one of his former models tipping him off about them after she had found them on Instagram.

Sutan had never heard of them before, but his agent sense had gone off as soon as he had entered the building, their soft and feminine but most importantly fresh visual identity fitting perfectly with the direction he saw several of the big fashion houses moving towards.

He had just finished typing out the notes from his short talk with Glossier’s creative director when his phone rang, his favorite picture of Violet popping up, his girlfriend sitting on his couch, a magazine open on her lap, a mug of tea in her hand.

“Hello?”

“SUTAN! You picked up! ”

“Of course I did?” Sutan couldn’t help but smile at the unusual impatience and enthusiasm, Violet texting him earlier that evening that she was going out with Pearl. “Is everything alright?”

“Mmmh,” Sutan could practically hear Violet nod, “My feet hurt from dancing but it was really fun and they played this new song I liked and we’re having pizza.”

“With pineapple?”

“Yes! Or, no. Pearl got me pepperoni first, like, ew.” She giggled, and Sutan smiled, the ‘ew’ so unlike sober Violet who was rarely, if ever, as chatty as her drunk counterpart, “Kade ate it though, which is nice. ”

“Kade?” Sutan was fairly certain he had heard the name before, but there was a reason he was taking notes for himself in the middle of the night, his plans before bed including several email drafts so he wouldn’t forget anything important come Monday morning.

“Bob’s boyfriend. Not Maxwell, the other one. The makeup one. Dark hair. ”

“With the cheekbones?”

“Yes! He’s really nice. A good dude.” Violet giggled again, before her tone grew sober. “Actually , Sutan? I- Umh. I just wanted to tell you- ”

“Yes, lovely eyes?” The cab turned the corner, and Sutan saw his building come into view.

“I love you. ”

Sutan paused for a moment, a flash of warmth going through his body that had nothing to do with the whiskeys he had had earlier. Violet hadn’t said it since New Year’s, hadn’t told him she loved him since she had whispered it after he said it first, but here she was, drunk and sweet on the phone, telling him that he mattered to her.

Chapter 3: concrete jungle.

*

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Violet squeaks, startled and surprised, and tries to get up, but Pearl just lets out a guttural grunt and tightens her grip on the junction of Violet’s hip and thigh under her skirt, thus effectively trapping Violet where she’s straddling Pearl’s lap. Violet produces a disagreeing noise that turns into a shameless moan as soon as Pearl sinks her teeth into her flesh just above her collarbone, and involuntarily grinds her hips down.

“Come on, guys, again? Really? In my fucking cockpit, too?” Kameron whines.

Violet’s lids flutter open and she looks up. Kameron is standing in the doorway, shielding her eyes with her palm theatrically. Pearl detaches her mouth from Violet’s body, settling against the backrest of her pilot’s seat, but her index and middle fingers curl under the waistband of Violet’s panties.

“Oh knock it off, Michaels, you can’t possibly expect us to believe you haven’t done this with your purser wife even once,” Pearl says while her other hand slides up Violet’s back under her unbuttoned blouse and sneakily unhooks her bra.

“Pearl!” Violet protests half-heartedly and slaps Pearl’s arm. Pearl just smirks and pushes her hand under the undergarment to cup Violet’s breast.

“I’ll be happy to inform you that my wife and I can actually keep our hands off each other for longer than five minutes, because we’re not a pair of libido-driven bitches, thank you very much,” Kameron says sternly.

Pearl hums in a noncommittal manner and leans back in to drag her lips against Violet’s collarbone. Violet’s lids fall closed again and a pleased purr forms somewhere deep in her chest and escapes her.

“I should really fuck you in first class next, doll,” Pearl states. “You’d look so fucking good, getting yourself and the seat all wet and messy while I finger your pretty little pussy. Would you like that, babe?”

“Oh, God, I can’t hear you, I can’t, I’m not listening!” Kameron shrieks before Violet can react.

Violet blinks, trying to bring her surroundings back into focus, the rampant arousal that pools in her gut making it difficult. Kameron is squeezing her eyes shut and covering her ears with her palms, looking equal parts flustered and amused.

“Pearl,” Violet repeats hoarsely.

“Mmm,” Pearl says, slipping her hand to squeeze Violet’s ass under Violet’s skirt while her other one is still playing with her breast. “Okay, go on, then, doll, the sooner I land this thing the sooner I’ll get to actually fuck you.”

She manoeuvres her hands to rest on Violet’s waist and swiftly pushes her to her feet, proceeding to straighten her tie and crack her neck like she wasn’t just walked in on by her captain. Violet reaches to wipe her lipstick off Pearls mouth, and then secures the hooks of her bra behind her back and buttons her blouse up.

“C’mere, princess,” Pearl beckons her closer as soon as Violet’s done straightening her uniform.

Violet bends over, planting her hands on the armrests of the seat Pearl’s occupying, and Pearl presses a gentle kiss on her mouth, her plum lips so soft and good against Violet’s own. Before it can escalate, Pearl slaps Violet’s ass lightly and repeats her command to go on. Violet pecks Pearl once more and grabs her blazer from Kameron’s seat where she shedded it not too long ago before circling Pearl and heading out of the cockpit.

Kameron is still standing in the doorway, her arms crossed on her chest. She’s shaking her head slightly, her expression scolding, and it would almost make Violet bashful if it weren’t for the way Kameron’s so obviously fighting off an entertained grin.

“Nice bra, Chachki,” she shoots as she moves aside to let Violet through, and that’s when Violet is assured she’s not nearly as irritated as she tries to act.

“Why, thank you, captain,” Violet says, making sure it comes out pointed and clear, audible.

Behind her, she can hear Pearl snap around in her seat and let out an actual growl, low and dangerous, and she runs off quickly, feeling oddly pleased with herself for provoking a reaction.

There’s always a small part of her, shy and quiet, that keeps nagging that she should be ashamed of such vulgar, flamboyant behaviour she’s engaging in. Lately Violet’s grown very talented at ignoring it, progressively more so around Pearl, but today it’s louder, more persistent somehow. Maybe it’s because of where they are right now. Violet doesn’t let that thought linger, doesn’t let any of it linger, just works harder to not think of it at all.

She arrived in Atlanta early in the afternoon yesterday to overnight there before their flight to Johannesburg. She hadn’t told anyone she’s back, hadn’t left her hotel room, either. It was unlikely she would run into someone familiar in the busy streets, but she didn’t particularly feel like risking it. It’s been a while since she’s been back, and it was a peculiar feeling, being here as a visitor, a passer-by on her way to another, faraway destination.

Now they’re at Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International, getting ready for their flight. The airport is, at core, the same it was eleven, thirteen, fifteen years ago, but at the same time it’s not. The difference is, she’s never seen it like this before. She’s never seen the staff security checks and airline meeting rooms and unnoticeable doors that only open with a swipe of one’s I-D. badge. It’s both unnerving and comforting, the way a place can change so much, but not because it hasn’t, essentially, remained the same; rather, because she has not.

It seems no one’s really missed her in the main cabin. Farrah is standing in the middle of one of the two aisles, her palms placed on the backrests of the seats either side of her, and one of her knees is bent, her foot lifted coquettishly and the heel of her shoe brushing against her ass. Michelle is standing in one of the rows, her back to Violet, and she’s snapping photos of Farrah as she poses. Her expression is simultaneously oozing both seduction and saint-like innocence in the way only one Farrah Moan is capable of perfectly mastering.

“NorthWest should really use you in their next advertisement campaign, Farrah,” Violet chuckles.

Farrah strikes another pose, standing back on both feet and popping her hip, her hand moved to rest there now.

“I’m Farrah. Fly me to Milwaukee,” she breathes out, her tone eery and empty like she’s a bimbo from some 60’s movie.

“Amazing,” Violet laughs. “Do they even have an airport there?”

“Does it matter? It’s Milwaukee,” Farrah shrugs and reaches for her phone Michelle’s handing her.

“You ever been to Atlanta before, Violet?” Michelle asks.

“This is the first time this is my base,” Violet replies vaguely.

“So you’ve never been to Johannesburg before?” Farrah says wistfully. “Me neither. Gonna be fun!”

Violet hums her acknowledgement, then looks around the cabin. “Where’s Brianna?”

“We’re missing two life vests, she’s sorting that. We should be able to start the boarding soon,” Michelle says.

“I’m sure someone stole those vests during the previous flight,” Farrah chimes in expertly.

“Why would anyone steal a life vest?” Violet questions.

“Girl, people tend to steal the most random unnecessary shit, you’d be surprised,” Farrah says like it’s obvious.

“She would know,” Michelle notes.

Farrah whines, that drawn, high-pitched sound that has become her signature in Violet’s mind by now. Michelle doesn’t seem too bothered by this reaction, just laughs and suggests they get back to work.

They monitor the cabin together swiftly, making sure everything is taken care of before Brianna returns with the missing vests. Violet is unsettled, craves to get going already, but luckily Farrah is rushing them in her palpable excitement, so Violet clings to that excuse as she moves through the familiar steps with more urgency than is usual to her.

They’re one-third into the 15-hour flight when Brianna asks Violet to check if the cockpit needs anything for her while she deals with something in first class. Violet uses the intercom in the back galley, holding the receiver between her ear and shoulder as she leans against the counter, her legs crossed at the ankles, and examines the fresh coat of nail varnish she applied that morning while she waits for Kameron and Pearl to accept the call.

“Liaison,” she hears Pearl’s absentminded drag after two rings, her voice thick with amusement as if Kameron and her were just laughing at something when Violet phoned.

“Captain,” she purrs seductively. “Main cabin here, Violet speaking.”

“Blatant erasure,” Kameron chimes in before Pearl can reply.

“Shh, Michaels, you’re ruining the fantasy,” Pearl snorts.

The playfulness in Pearl’s tone makes Violet smile involuntarily, and she glances down at the tips of her black pumps and bites her lower lip like she’s trying to hide her reaction despite being alone, convince herself her heart doesn’t beat faster and her cheeks don’t get a little bit warmer whenever she hears Pearl sounding happy or imagines her grinning.

“So, what’s up, main cabin?” Pearl prompts.

Violet straightens her posture, crossing one arm over her chest and grabbing the receiver, and quietly clears her throat, seductively narrowing her eyes and dropping her pitch before she speaks. “Just calling to see if the cockpit needs anything, captain. Maybe I could get you something to eat?”

“That depends,” Pearl drawls cheekily, clearly playing along with Violet’s flirting, her voice husk. “What’s on the menu?”

“Why don’t I come and personally show you?” Violet chirps immediately.

“Jesus, Chachki, you’re on fucking speaker, come on,” Kameron groans.

Pearl laughs roughly, and Violet lets out a pouty sound, not really caught off guard by the interruption — it’s a wonder Kameron let it fly as long as she did, actually — but still a little dismayed. It’s been six days since their last flight together, six days since Pearl rushed her into a toilet stall at Seattle-Tacoma and took her against the wall, hot and desperate and messy, six days of radio silence and waiting and waiting and waiting, and Violet is itching for contact now, restless to get her hands on Pearl, hardly satisfied by their quick make out session from earlier.

“Goddamnit, Michaels, you’re such a bitch,” Pearl complains through laughter. “Why can’t you ever let me have any fun?”

“Because your idea of fun is having phone sex at work while you’re flying a craft and I’m sitting a foot away, you absolute genius,” Kameron shoots back.

“It’s better than your idea to play I spy with my little eyes for three hours straight, Michaels. There’s only fucking sky and clouds to spot!” Pearl says and Violet giggles, knowing full well the line was punctuated by a huge eye roll.

She moves her arm from her chest and tucks a loose lock of hair behind her ear, then fits her hand between herself and the counter and slips one of her heels out of the shoe, absently dangling it on her toes in the air. Pearl is in a good mood today, had been already when she had come out of the conference room to meet Violet in the hallway before their briefing and, despite Violet’s protests, taken her suitcase from her and carried it herself. It’s not exceptional, Pearl is in a good mood more often than not, but it’s a contrast to how she had been in Seattle last week, curt and rough and on edge, almost as if inflammable if approached wrong. It had been a three-hour layover, a flight that wasn’t even scheduled for Violet but that Aja had magically made happen anyway, and they had spent the majority of it with their hands and mouths on each other. After Pearl had made Violet come, Violet had backed her up against the opposite wall and gently rubbed her through her panties, the damp cotton catching on her swollen clit so perfectly, a light teasing touch insistently right where Pearl needed it until it had slowly gotten too much and she had let go and released.

Violet hadn’t asked if something was wrong, and Pearl hadn’t said anything, either, had just hidden her face in the crook of Violet’s shoulder and held her close while she came down, and then abruptly pushed past her out of the stall and the restroom without another word, and Violet hadn’t seen her again until the briefing.

“Seriously, though, is there anything you two need?” she interrupts Kameron and Pearl’s friendly bickering, her tone more professional now.

“No, babe, not really, I don’t think. At least I’m good, how about you, Michaels?” Pearl replies.

“Nah, I’m good, too. Maybe like a bathroom break in a half hour? But send someone else, I don’t want this plane crashing while I’m peeing because Liaison got distracted getting her fingers wet.”

“Ha-ha, you’re so fucking funny, Michaels, fuck all the way off,” Pearl snorts. “But what a glorious way to go, huh?”

“I’ll send Brianna or Michelle up there in like twenty,” Violet promises, stepping back into her heel and pushing herself off the counter.

“Thanks, Chachki,” Kameron calls. “Tell my wife I miss her and I love her and I can’t wait to get back to her.”

“Ew, you two are gross,” Pearl says before Violet manages to get her reply in.

“You just tried to have public phone sex and I’m the one getting called gross?” Kameron gasps in mock offence.

“You wish, Michaels, I know you’d like to hear how pretty she moans,” Pearl deadpans.

“Oh, trust me, I have heard her moan. Our room has been next to yours more often than I’d care to remember.”

“Okay,”Violet cuts in before Pearl can continue. “Nice talking to you, cap, main cabin will check in again later, have a good one. For the love of God, stop torturing her, Pearl.”

“Okay, baby, if you say so,” Pearl agrees solemnly. “I’ll see you soon.”

The line clicks in indication that the call is over, and Violet stays staring at the mute receiver for a while, the word Soon heavy on her tongue but never having had the chance to leave her lips.

*

They arrive in the early morning, and despite it having had been a fairly easy flight, Violet is physically drained and a little disoriented. It’s immediately clear Pearl likes Johannesburg, and while she puts her chin on Violet’s shoulder and keeps pointing out places and landmarks, painted in the soft glow of the quickly rising sun, through the tinted car window on their cab ride from the airport to the hotel, Violet thinks she could see herself falling in love.

Their accommodation is located in the northern part of the city, and Pearl tells her the neighbourhood, as well as those surrounding it, is considered one of the most prestigious in Johannesburg. The establishment is scattered across an undulating hill, a bunch of separate villas rather than one big building with rooms, and Michelle says it’s lovely, one of her favourite overnight locations she’s ever been to. Farrah snatches a little booklet from the front desk upon their arrival and check-in, and buries her nose in it, reading away and informing Violet that the name of the business — Zandfontein — comes from one of the early farms in the area.

Inside, their villa turns out to be a cosy, open space with a number of bedrooms and a shared kitchen and lounge. Everyone just kind of silently agrees that Pearl and Violet will take one of the two doubles, with the Michaels’ occupying the other, without any discussion or explicit acknowledgement of it. Violet thinks she should feel flustered about the way they’re treated by everyone as an extension of each other, a package deal, almost, should resist the implications, but there’s a craving crawling under her skin and she can’t think far past it, needs Pearl close and can’t deny herself.

“How do you feel about thunderstorms?” Pearl asks her when they’re settling in and the air between them is mostly filled with weary contentment and slowness of thought and motion, no energy to jump each other until they’ve slept the flight and jet lag off.

She’s changing into something comfortable to nap in, her uniform shedded and carelessly draped in a messy heap over the first somewhat suitable surface, the back of a chair today. She always does that, and then curses on the day of departure, stressing over how wrinkled the fabric is and resulting in Violet trying to straighten her up to the best of her ability. Violet is only slightly better than Pearl at this. Her uniform usually ends up strewn across the floor of whatever hotel room they’re entering as soon as they’re through the door, but at least she picks it up later on and makes an attempt at actually hanging it.

“Um,” Violet says, a little taken aback by the randomness of the question. “I feel fine? Or, like, I’m not, like, afraid of them or anything. It’s kinda nice when it’s thundering outside and you can just curl up with a blanket and a cup of tea and a book, yeah, you know, the cliché. I don’t know, why?”

She glances at Pearl over her shoulder, a hanger with her blouse and blazer temporarily looped over her wrist. Pearl is pulling on a white tank top, her bra already off, and Violet succeeds to catch a glimpse of the perfectly round underside of her breasts right before Pearl tugs on the hem and covers the rest of her upper body. Violet lets out a pouty noise and blindly tries to hook the hanger on the closet door handle, eyes concentrated on the visibly darker spots on the material of Pearl’s top where her nipples are stiffened and poking against it.

“Just figured I’d ask for, you know, later,” Pearl shrugs, running her hands through her hair to get it out of her face and then readjusting the waistband of the loose black cotton shorts she often sleeps in. “Baby, my eyes are up here,” she adds with a low chuckle after noticing Violet’s spaced out staring.

“I know, but I’m talking to your tits,! Violet muses, finally managing to place the hanger where she wants it and reaching for her skirt to hang it. “Whats happening later?”

“The thunder?” Pearl says like it’s clear while she moves to pull the comforter aside on the bed and adjust the pillows and covers like they’ve grown accustomed to having them. “It’s gonna be raining and thundering in like five hours or so.”

“Oh, come on now,” Violet snorts and brushes her off, finally turning to fold the skirt over the little bar on the hanger and grab the oversized t-shirt she packed as her pyjama. “There’s not a single cloud in the sky and it’s getting progressively warmer by minute. Thank God you’re a pilot and not a meteorologist ,”

“Babe…” Pearl says softly, and there’s a pause in the rustling of the sheets.

“Hm?” Violet hums and spins to face the rest of the room, pulling her locks out of the collar of her shirt where they got stuck upon her putting it on,

Pearl now has one knee perched on the bed, stretched out to place the pillow she’s gripping wherever it is she sees appropriate and frozen mid-movement, gaze turned up to scan Violet. Violet fixes her a quizzical look and spreads her arms in the air with a little shrug, almost challenging Pearl to disagree with her observations and deduction, and suddenly Pearl’s expression lights up, one corner of her mouth twitching up into a lopsided, extremely pleased smirk, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“What?” Violet demands.

“Nothing, babe,” Pearl says and shakes her head, going back to her pillow arranging. “It is an awfully clear day, isn’t it? Almost like calm before the storm, huh?”

“You’re such a cryptic fucking bitch, Pearl,” Violet complains, slipping her hands under her shirt to unclasp her bra and toss it aside. “The fuck is that even supposed to mean?”

Pearl laughs uproariously and throws a pillow at Violet. It hits her in the thigh and lands at her feet, and Violet sighs in exasperation as she bends over to lift it. When she straightens up, Pearl is already sprawled on the bed, limbs splayed out in disarray like a human-sized starfish. Violet crosses the room and shoves the pillow in Pearl’s face as soon as she’s close enough to aim.

“Bitch,” Pearl mumbles into the soft material, giggles spilling out of her in sporadic gales.

“Idiot,” Violet shoots back,

“Yeah, but you like that,” Pearl retorts, still making no attempt to free her face.

“Do I really, though?” Violet mutters absently and flops onto her back on the bed next to Pearl.

“Uh-huh,” Pearl says assuredly, like there’s no care in the world, no doubt whatsoever, and maybe there isn’t, maybe she’s right, maybe she knows something Violet has no clue of, and Violet allows it soothe her until there’s something heavy in her belly and throat.

They lie there for a while, both completely quiet, and Violet enjoys the weight of the body next to her, just the way it makes the mattress dip different than it does when she sleeps alone, the warmth of it, the familiar scent, cherry blossom of Pearl’s perfume twining with the smell of cigarettes, lacing lacing lacing until it’s so unmistakably her Violet thinks there’s no replicating it,, not even coming close to. She verges on searching for Pearl’s hand, but then changes her mind and interlocks her own fingers beneath her chest, wonders how and when the silence between them got more comfortable than mindless chatter with most people is.

“What’s the meaning behind your thigh tattoo?” she asks finally, when the atmosphere gets too light, too easy, close to compressing in how natural it feels.

“Huh?” Pearl finally raises the pillow off her face and drops it somewhere in general direction of the head of the bed. “Oh, this one?”

She throws her legs up and props her ass off the mattress, trying to keep her lower body up with her abs and failing spectacularly, almost tipping over and nearly ending up with her feet over her head and eventually just falling back down on the sheets with a frustrated huff. Violet resists the urge to laugh for approximately a split second and then cracks up, drawing her hand up to facepalm. Pearl mumbles something under her breath and elbows Violet in the ribs lightly, pretending to be dismayed by her temporary loss of cool, even though she’s never been hiding her dorky side around Violet and they both know it.

“Each flower represents a woman in my life,” Pearl says when Violet succeeds to stop cackling and outstretches her arm to brush her knuckles against the ink. “There’s one for my mom, then my sisters, and my grandma, oh, yeah, and this smaller one is for my nephew.”

“that’s so sweet,” Violet smiles. Pearl must be close with her family, she seems the type, seems like somebody who keeps in touch a lot and insists on spending at least one set of holidays a year together, makes it work despite everyone having their own busy lives. Violet doesn’t ask, though, wants to avoid the series of corresponding questions touching the subject will surely breed painfully harder than she wants to learn these things about Pearl, feels claustrophobic more than she does intrigued. “You designed it yourself, didn’t you?”

“Yah, doll, all of my ink,” Pearl confirms. “Nap time?”

With that, she pushes herself up on the bed to lie down on the pillows, Violet follows her, pressing close to her side and twisting her gently until Pearl’s back is to her chest and she can loop her arm around her middle and bury her face in her hair. Pearl sighs happily, her hand immediately covering Violet’s where it’s resting on her tummy, and relaxes, and Violet falls asleep to the deepening pattern of her breathing.

*

Sure enough, Violet wakes up to the sounds of thundering and raindrops against the window some hours later.

It takes her a moment to register she’s in Pearl’s arms now, despite them having had been in the reversed position when she dozed off, but it doesn’t particularly alarm her — she’s used to Pearl’s tendency to flip them around in her sleep, as if she can’t possibly get enough of holding Violet and will utilise any chance she gets. Next, Violet registers Pearl’s open mouth dragging against the skin of her neck and her fingers aimlessly stroking her stomach through the fabric of her shirt, the light trailing of her blunt nails sending chills up Violet’s spine.

“Pearl…” she croaks, her voice cracking a little.

“Shh, baby,”Pearl breathes out.

Violet gasps almost soundlessly, shifting a bit, and Pearl presses a kiss right where her whisper is still burning Violet’s skin. Her palm flattening on Violet’s middle, she starts unhurriedly sliding it higher, pulling Violet’s shirt up with it. She reaches Violet’s tits, gropes the flesh forcefully, but before Violet can push her chest out into the contact, Pearl drops her hand lower, hooking her fingers under the rolled up hem of the shirt. She tugs it over Violet’s breasts, and Violet barely bites down a filthy moan as the cool air on her bare body gives her goosebumps.

“Pearl,”she repeats, a pleading tilt to her tone.

Pearl’s mouth moves to Violet’s ear, and she closes her teeth around the lobe lightly, then laps her tongue over the spot, and Violet’s toes curl, the action causing her to lose a bit of her breath. “Shh, I’ve got you.”

Pearl presses two of her fingers right between Violet’s exposed breasts and starts slowly tracing them down her chest and abdomen, her leisurely pace nearly torturous and making Violet’s gut twist and her whole body tense and shiver in anticipation and excitement. She’s still hazy from sleep, soft and a little powerless, ardent and almost shapeable under Pearl’s touch, needing her to set the tempo and do whatever she pleases, and Pearl seems to be in the matching mood, wanting to take control and have Violet her way, dominant in such a tender, disarming fashion. She reaches Violet’s panties, twiddles with the waistband, slipping her index finger under it and swiping across the skin there, and Violet involuntarily bucks her hips into the impact, a whimper escaping her as Pearl retaliates and puts her palm on Violet’s pelvis instead, swiftly drawing her back closer.

“Baby…” she mutters, scolding, teasing, perhaps a tiny bit breathless.

“Please,” Violet utters instantly, not caring about how desperate the thickness of her voice sounds.

Pearl’s lips are back on Violet’s skin immediately, kisses being peppered in a neat string from behind her ear all the way to the crook of her neck. She simultaneously forces her foot between Violet’s ankles, and gradually pries Violet’s legs open with her own, fitting her full thigh high enough to be lightly brushing against Violet’s pussy. She starts sucking a mark on top of Violet’s shoulder, and moves her hand and places it on the back of Violet’s own, fingers feathering over the knuckles before interlacing with hers.

As Pearl begins to drag their joined hands lower, Violet squeezes her eyes shut and exhales in shattering pants, wanting to squirm, to rock her hips to try and get some friction against Pearl’s thigh, but also immobilised, unable to recall how to use her muscles, her lust rendering her boneless and completely pliant. Pearl detaches her mouth from Violet’s skin, leaving the spot hot and throbbing in her wake, and lifts her face to nose Violet’s curls, her deep and heavy breath tickling the nape of Violet’s neck. She guides their hands all the way down and stops right above Violet’s panties again, her fingers still securely clasped over Violet’s, and Violet senses how prominently her muscles tense under her palm as Pearl stalls deliberately.

There’s a moment of stillness, the only sounds disturbing the almost perfect silence — the rhythmic drumming of the rain and the occasional thundering that feels like it rolls over the area in huge waves, as well as their noticeably laboured breathing. Violet’s wound up, thinks she might snap any second now, loves how charged all of this is, utterly enjoys the way Pearl is torturing her and the ache in her core from too much tension without any relief.

After the longest while, Pearl nuzzles her faze closer and presses her lips behind Violet’s ear, and that’s what finally sends Violet right over the edge.

“Daddy,” she whines, so fucking needy and desperate that there’s no mistaking it.

Pearl must lose some of her composure with that, because she curses lowly and screws her knee, thus working Violet’s legs farther apart. With determination, she pushes their hands into Violet’s panties, and Violet produces a surprised Oh, her eyes flying open, not having had realised Pearl was planning something like this, but promptly relaxing her wrist to allow Pearl full control of the situation and her body, relishing in the way surrendering to Pearl turns her on so much.

Without delay, Pearl presses their fingers between Violet’s lips, and Violet hisses as she senses her own wet heat, nearly burning against her skin. She’s slightly mortified by the ease with which Pearl reduces her to this state, by the fact Pearl can feel it just as well, by the way the humiliation only stirs her on.

“God, Vi, dripping already,” Pearl rasps, her fingers twitching like she can’t contain it. “Slutty little thing.”