Guilty as Sin - 13 (Patreon)

Slowly but surely, we're getting somewhere...

------ guilty as sin-----

Chapter Thirteen

Walking in the evening air felt absolutely incredible on Sutton’s exposed shoulders and chest – it was still a little humid, because it was still August, but the night had significantly cooled down.

The club had definitely not been what she’d expected. But, in fairness, she hadn’t known what she’d expected. She’d only been to… well, normal clubs and bars before. Not something that was Members Only, with a secret location. It was far tamer inside, including the temperature control.

Still, with the way she’d felt inside, yeah, the slightly breezy evening air was amazing.

First because of her embarrassment with the woman at the bar, which Charlotte had been fully privy to. Then, with the cherry on top, because of those – those moments with Charlotte. The moments that weren’t even real, actual moments.

They were just moments because of Sutton’s attraction and admiration for Charlotte, and she knew that. Logically. She knew that when Charlotte asked her to name the most attractive woman at the bar, she wasn’t including herself on that list.

And still it had been the loudest, most prominent thought that echoed through Sutton’s mind.

Especially because Charlotte – like Sutton – was wearing a dress that she would never in a million years wear to work.

A dress that highlighted the sculpted curve of her waist and how full her breasts were. She still somehow managed to pull off looking classy, even when she looked so sexy it should have been indecent.

The whole thing – Charlotte – made her head spin, made her blood spike so hot.

So. The night air? Great. Lovely.

“Should, um,” she glanced over her shoulder, noting that there was no one here, on the quiet street. Very unlike a typical club, with people milling around outside, waiting to get let in. “Should we have waited for Caleb and Dean? I didn’t see them on the way out.”

She’d been so focused on the fact that Charlotte had wanted to hang out with her – it wasn’t a work night, they weren’t in D.C. – she hadn’t really thought about the fact that they were ditching the men.

Which was a cardinal rule for Sutton, and she bit at her bottom lip as that guilt nipped at her. “It’s kind of a thing, for me. If you go out with someone, you don’t leave without them unless they inform you that their plans have changed.”

Due to both safety and manners.

Charlotte seemed to have none of Sutton’s reservations, and she scoffed, dismissively, under her breath. “Don’t worry, I’ve already texted them. But,” she arched a look at Sutton. Exasperated, but not at her. At least, she didn’t think. “This is classic Caleb. Because it’s his birthday I won’t give him shit about it. Mostly, anyway,” she tacked on with a little smirk.

She shook back her hair, those long, loose dark waves bouncing around her shoulder blades. It captivated Sutton for a beat, until Charlotte continued, “As soon as he has a few drinks and really lets loose on a night that he’s celebrating, he gets all cozied up to Dean. And then they sneak away to the private car Dean parked down the block, so he can get his dick sucked.”

Sutton choked on air, shocked at Charlotte’s choice of words.

Something Charlotte, herself, only seemed to realize in the aftermath, her eyes widening as she glanced up at Sutton. “Ah. Apologies about that. I’ve – obviously – had a little bit to drink, and spending time with Caleb can bring out the worst in me. More precisely, the most profane of me.”

Sutton slowly shook her head, needing to clear her throat. She – yeah, she definitely didn’t mind Charlotte being profane. At all. “It’s – I mean, we’re hanging out. We’re not at work.”

Charlotte hummed, before refocusing their conversation, “Where do you propose we go to get something to eat? Ideally, I’d prefer somewhere I’m not likely to be approached. For obvious reasons.”

Sutton didn’t look up and down Charlotte again, even though she wanted to. She’d already done it far too much, and she would have these images burned inside of her mind for far too long. Like, the way Charlotte had crossed her legs at the bar, and how her dress had hitched up on her thighs…

She blew out a long, deep breath, her cheeks heating, and she was grateful for the cover of the evening.

Focus. Food. Low-key.

She immediately pictured Topped Off, which wasn’t too far away, actually.

“I know a place,” she informed Charlotte, feeling a little pep in her step about that.

Topped Off would be perfect – they offered quick and easy but very good fare, specialty sandwiches and salads. And though they were often busy, it was only a couple of weeks before the new semester would begin, and the summer semester had just ended. This was the most dead the café ever was, and Regan had reported to Sutton many times that she could “die of boredom” on some of these nights.

As they walked, Sutton worried at her bottom lip, shooting Charlotte a measuring look.

But Charlotte locked eyes with her in a matter of seconds. “Yes?”

Caught, she turned quickly to face forward. Only to find herself drawn back to looking at Charlotte again nearly immediately. Tonight, they were hanging out. They’d gone to a club together for Charlotte’s brothers birthday! Charlotte had literally used the words “getting his dick sucked” a minute ago. She’d given Sutton advice about hitting on a woman.

With that in mind, she asked, “So… Vanessa Logan is your type?”

It made sense, really. Vanessa Logan was beautiful; she literally had a face for television.

Beyond simply being pretty, though, she was – she was polished. Perfectly coiffed, even tonight at the club. Not a hair out of place, perfectly done veneers and all.

She was so perfect looking, she could be plastic, almost. Like a Barbie doll.

And she wasn’t bad at her job, either. Sutton had seen her morning talk show many times, and she was friendly and personable. But she never really sounded super authentic? In addition to the way she looked, everything she ever said was also super polished.

Then, Sutton rolled her eyes at herself.

Obviously Vanessa was Charlotte’s freaking type; they’d literally had sex!

And it made sense. Charlotte wasn’t perfect looking as in plastic or Barbie-like, but she was gorgeous. And she was super put-together.

Charlotte shrugged, seeming to mull over the question for a few seconds before answering, “She’s not not my type.”

Sutton breathed back an exasperated laugh, nudging her bare shoulder against Charlotte’s. “Okay, Ms. Vague. That was such a politician’s answer.”

Charlotte scoffed, pushing her shoulder back into Sutton’s. “It was an honest answer, thank you very much. Because, it’s true. She is not not my type,” she doubled down on.

Sutton couldn’t help but frown slightly, because what did that even mean?

“Darling, I don’t have a “type.”” Charlotte stated, nudging her again lightly. “The reality is that my connections with women are largely based on a physical attraction and chemistry. There are a great deal of women that are “my type” by that definition. Or,” she frowned, consideringly. “Were my type, I suppose.”

“Were?”

Charlotte sighed, heartily, the sound heavy and disgruntled. “I haven’t had the freedom to consider sexual partners in over a year. Thinking about “my type” right now – who knows what would be the answer.”

Her tone turned thoughtful and quiet, even as she tightly rolled her lips.

And Sutton paused – just for a beat – as Charlotte’s words rushed through her, right to her very core. It was far more sensational than anything else she’d heard Charlotte say. Just thinking about Charlotte and what she was looking for, seemingly what she was desperately in want of, made Sutton’s throat run so dry.

“I…” Throat so dry, she had to cut herself off, and swallow heavily to keep going. “I mean. If you were interested, I think you could have found yourself, um, a number of… uh, willing partners earlier tonight. Vanessa being only one of them.”

Sutton being another, but she was trying so very hard to fight back those thoughts. Those terrible, unprofessional, inappropriate thoughts.

“That’s not necessarily the point,” Charlotte said, her voice still low.

Sutton liked that she didn’t try to refute it, though. And she tried to tell herself it was because of Charlotte’s innate confidence. It was, but… but it wasn’t just because Sutton respected and admired that confidence.

It was because it was so fucking attractive.

“What is the point, then?” Sutton asked, as she led the way for them to turn onto the street Topped Off was located on.

“The point is that it’s all far more complicated, now. Even with a woman that understands the score and knows to be discreet, it’s–” Charlotte’s eyebrows furrowed in thought, before she said, “Before, privacy didn’t necessarily mean closeted secrecy. And now it does.”

There was something in her voice, just then, something Sutton had never heard from Charlotte before. Almost… disheartened?

It dug into Sutton’s chest, the sympathy welling up inside of her. So often, Charlotte sounded so unaffected by anything that wasn’t about work. She’d talked so flippantly before, about her romantic life. Almost derisively, like – what did it matter?

“Enough of that,” Charlotte cleared her throat, roughly. “Where, exactly, are you taking me?”

She forced a small, understanding smile at Charlotte; if Charlotte wanted to pivot, Sutton would stop asking. So, she pointed at the sign above the door as they approached the café. “Right here.”

“The infamous Topped Off?” Charlotte teased, lifting her eyebrows at Sutton. Even though she really would have liked to dive deeper into Charlotte’s mind, peeling away those guarded, controlled pieces of her so that she could understand all of her thoughts, she also couldn’t deny that she loved when Charlotte used that tone. Light and teasing.

“The one and only.”

She found herself frowning, though, as they approached the door.

The lights were on, but… she craned her head, not seeing anyone standing behind the counter. At least, not from her vantage point at the doorway. That was weird.

She hummed under her breath in confusion, before Charlotte reached out and opened the door for her.

“Um… Emma?” She called out as she stepped inside, glancing around.

They’d texted yesterday, and Emma had informed her that she was going to be working. She’d made a sarcastic joke about it being her “thrilling” Friday night plans.

During their occasional slow nights, the café would have only one person working, she supposed. So, there was a chance Emma was in the back –

Sutton startled, her heart racing, as they heard a loud crash – things obviously falling to the floor – in the room just beyond the counter, where the door was propped open. “Emma?!”

She felt Charlotte’s hand reach out and grip at her elbow, firm and commanding and present, as she called out, “Is everything all right back there?”

But the person that came barrelling through the doorway wasn’t Emma.

It was Regan, quickly followed by Emma.

Regan’s hair was mussed.

Emma’s clothing was rumpled.

Both of their lips were red and swollen and their faces were flushed.

Sutton stumbled back a step. She – she could barely wrap her mind around what she was looking at, but she knew what she was looking at. There was no denying it, but it was right here in front of her face.

Even if she’d tried to convince herself that she was jumping to a crazy conclusion, there just – there was no way. Because she was standing here in the same room with both of them, and they both looked like they’d been caught.

Sutton knew all of Regan’s expressions, better than she knew anyone else’s in the whole world. And Regan looked alarmed.

Sutton felt that same alarm slide through her, ringing through her mind so loudly, and she took another step back, bumping solidly into Charlotte as she did. It was almost comforting, though. No, it was comforting. Charlotte’s warmth against her back, and the way her hand came up automatically to Sutton’s hip to steady her.

“Sutton! Hey, babe! What – whatcha doing here?!” Regan asked, her voice an octave higher than was typical.

Emma darted her eyes between them, reaching up to smooth her hands over her shirt. “Is – hey. How–”

Sutton shook her head, unable to really make sense of her thoughts. Needing to take a breather to sort out what the hell was playing out in front of her.

“I – sorry. I’m – we’re going to go, actually,” she stumbled over her words, before she turned to flee the scene, reaching for Charlotte’s hand to tug her along with her.

***

“You didn’t have to invite me over,” Sutton said, as she stood in Charlotte’s living room less than thirty minutes later. “I’m not… I mean, I’m fine. I’m just…”

She trailed off, her thoughts still flying all over the place, refusing to be tamed. Since they had from the moment she’d seen Regan and Emma.

She lifted her hands into a shrug, then dropped them heavily down to her sides, feeling oddly listless as she stood in Charlotte’s living room. Charlotte was sitting on one of the stools at the adjoining island from the kitchen, where she’d perched herself as they’d walked in.

She’d pulled out a bottle of wine, and then some leftover Indian food from her fridge. Sutton had turned down the food, now too – wired? Fired up? To have an appetite. She had accepted a glass of the expensive wine, had taken two large sips, and then promptly set it back down.

Drinking would only make her feel more out of control right now, and she’d already had a couple of drinks tonight.

Charlotte slowly lifted an eyebrow at her, cautiously amused. “I didn’t have to, I am well aware of that. But you don’t seem to be,” she pursed her lips in thought for a brief moment, before she settled on, “Thrilled about what we’ve just seen.”

“I’m not. Or. Maybe, I just–” She cut herself off with a huff, lifting her hands up to drag them through her hair, the image of Emma and Regan stumbling out from where they’d been… kissing? Hooking up?! She didn’t even know, but it was playing on repeat in her brain.

Even though it had been reflex to say she wasn’t thrilled, it didn’t feel like the truth as soon as the words had been spoken into existence.

Because… she wasn’t… not thrilled? She just had no fucking clue what she felt!

Because she still was grappling with trying to reconcile it all.  

“All right, I can’t help but try to be a problem solver. I know I don’t have much experience as a “friend” but, that’s who I am,” Charlotte said, after taking a bite of her naan.

Sutton stared at her, nodding firmly. “Yes. I would really welcome that, now.”

Charlotte was logical. She was brilliant. She was the best person for Sutton to talk to about this. She was the person Sutton had been enjoying talking to about… well, just about everything for the last month. But all of that aside, Charlotte was also a lesbian, so – great person for this conversation all around.

“Let me start by playing devil’s advocate, then.” Charlotte winged up an eyebrow. “What if it wasn’t… well, what it looked like?”

Sutton could only stare, incredulously back at her. “What the hell else could it have been?!”

Charlotte sipped on her wine, chuckling from the back of her throat. “I don’t know; I told you I was playing devil’s advocate. But I don’t know Regan or Emma; I don’t know what their typical habits are or their expressions.”

“I do,” she immediately asserted.

Before she frowned, and that awful feeling slashed through her, making her deflate. That was the problem, wasn’t it? That was the root of it all.

“I do know them. They’re both my best friends. And… they didn’t tell me anything about this. Either of them,” she said, quietly, and, yes, wow. It hurt.

That really was at the base of everything.

“Again, working out details as an outsider: is it possible that this is something they wanted to keep private?” Charlotte asked, and her voice was oddly gentle. Gentle in a way it so rarely ever was.

It reached at something inside of Sutton, beseeching her to look up at Charlotte and hold her gaze. “Emma, yes. Emma is definitely a private person.”

She’d never shared details about her romantic life with Sutton in the two years they’d known one another, and Sutton accepted that. She accepted that if Emma wanted to share with her, she would tell her. She accepted that Emma was guarded, and Sutton didn’t like to pry.

But – Regan?!

That ache hit her again like a slap, and she couldn’t stand still. Needed to pace a bit. “Regan is the opposite of a private person. About anything.” Well, granted, she was reticent when it came to her family issues. But, again, not with Sutton! “I knew when she had her first kiss. Like, I knew within the literal hour. I knew the first time she–”

She bit off the details, feeling her cheeks flush as she glanced back at Charlotte. No, she didn’t have to go into the in-depth detail with her.

“I have known every time she has ever done anything, sexually or romantically. She’s never not told me something. And I’ve never not told her something.”

Maybe that, too, was a part of this.

She wasn’t mad, not in a traditional or normal sense. But… but Regan knew every update about Sutton’s life. She knew no boundaries, and Sutton didn’t enforce them with her. The result, though, was that Regan was privy to all of Sutton’s romantic and sexual comings and goings and interests and embarrassments and –

And that had always been totally fine, because it was mutual. They knew each other’s everything.

“She knows everything about me. She knows every time I have–” She nearly choked on the words, almost cut herself off, as she glanced back at Charlotte, her heart skipping a beat. But it would probably be weirder to not say it, at this point. “Every time I have a crush on someone, she knows. Even if I don’t want to tell her, she drags it out of me.”

But Sutton allowed it. She opened the door to Regan and discussed everything with her, even her wildly inappropriate attraction to Charlotte.

It stung, sharply and tenderly, somewhere around her heart, to think that Regan would hide something like this from her.

“And it’s – it’s a handful of things,” she continued, but as she spoke, as she felt Charlotte’s knowing, watchful eyes on her, she did feel herself calm down. “Like, Regan has never even expressed any interest in women, before. Neither has Emma, but…” She shrugged. Again, that didn’t shock her too much.

As she felt the energy that had pulsed through her start to dissipate, she was able to take a moment and realize – she was in Charlotte’s apartment. It was, unsurprisingly, gorgeous. Undoubtedly expensive.

Also unsurprisingly not very personal. More than her D.C. apartment had been, before Sutton had spruced it up a bit. But still, not much.

And – wow. She was in Charlotte’s home. Now that she wasn’t fixating so single-mindedly on Regan and Emma, that realization slid through her with wonder.

This was different than being in D.C. Technically, yes, that was also a home Charlotte owned. But that was very specifically for work. This was where she went home, every night.

“I think, then, that it’s very likely that this might be something very new between them,” Charlotte’s voice was quiet and contemplative, and soothing, almost. Like she really wanted to make Sutton feel better.

She took in a long, deep breath, turning to look at Charlotte again. Whose big, brown eyes were fixed on her and sympathetic. Sympathetic even to Sutton’s, admittedly, very small-scale problems.

Now that she was on the calmer side of processing, it was… it was very embarrassing. Not only her response, but that Charlotte had witnessed it. Charlotte, who trusted Sutton to be in control of things and handle actual problems that came through at work.

“I’m sorry.”

Charlotte frowned.  “Why?”

“Because I had this whole…” She lifted her hands and gestured around to encompass the last forty-five minutes. “Freak out about my best friends possibly hooking up or dating or whatever they’re doing, and it’s actually the least legitimate “problem” in the world. Especially compared to the things we – you – deal with daily.”

Charlotte shook her head. “If we were only allowed to have reactions to political issues and not to anything personal, well, that doesn’t exist. Politics are personal.” Her frown deepened as she clearly rolled those thoughts over in her mind, then waved her hand. “I’ve had a few drinks tonight, so I’m going to stop myself from waxing on philosophically about politics.”

Suddenly, that appealed to Sutton more than literally anything else. Charlotte being tipsy and waxing on about her philosophical beliefs was… that sounded incredible, actually. “Don’t stop yourself on my account.”

Charlotte snorted out a laugh, something very undignified and extremely cute. “Maybe we’ll get to that. All I’m saying is – you’re allowed to have reactions to things happening in your personal life. Do you think I responded gracefully and calmly the first time I walked in on Dean and Caleb?”

Very much wanting to know that story, Sutton drew closer to Charlotte, leaning against the island across from her. “I really can’t imagine you responding to something not calmly.”

Even when Charlotte had found out about Sutton’s sexuality and clearly hadn’t enjoyed receiving that information, she hadn’t freaked out about it.

“Well, I wasn’t not calm, I suppose.” A small smile played around Charlotte’s lips, as she clearly thought back. “But I was certainly not all sunshine and rainbows about my man-whore of a brother fucking my boss.”

It was Sutton’s turn to chuckle at Charlotte’s disdainful tone.

Only for the realization to hit her, making her groan and drop her head into her hands.

“Oh my god. Regan hasn’t even officially come out, and she already has a–” hookup partner? Girlfriend? Sutton had no idea what Regan and Emma labelled themselves as, but obviously it was something. “I’ve been out for over a year now, and can’t manage to talk coherently to a woman. Regan has more game than I do?!”

If they were both into women, the reality was that Regan’s was a far newer facet to her life, and she was already hooking up with someone?!

And Sutton was crushing on her fucking boss, embarrassing herself while trying to chat up someone at a bar.

God.

She guessed it wasn’t that shocking; Regan really didn’t have any qualms talking to people. Sutton doubted Regan would trip over her words or blush or be unable to flirt properly if she was talking to an attractive woman. It was something she’d always admired about her best friend.

“Can you tell me–” Charlotte stopped herself, rolling her lips tightly. “Ah, never mind.”

Sutton lifted her head, her interest undeniably piqued. “No, wait. What is it?”

Charlotte ran her fingertip down the stem of her wine glass in a slow motion, clearly not paying attention to that action. But it was all Sutton could pay attention to, suddenly. The slow drag of Charlotte’s touch.

She was so intently focused, she nearly jumped when Charlotte asked, “How did you figure out you weren’t straight? If it was so recent – last year, you said?”

“Oh.” Not what she’d anticipated, then again, she had no idea what she’d anticipated. She shrugged. “It was unexpected. Regan and I went out when I’d finished spring semester–”

“Went out… how? Where?” Charlotte asked, cutting in with a direct sort of curiosity she almost never displayed. On a typical day, when she hadn’t had anything to drink, when they were in a work setting.

Somewhat taken in by that, Sutton answered, “You know – out. To a club. Like tonight, but not a place with a VIP guest list. Louder. Darker… you get it.”

Charlotte nodded, waving imperiously for Sutton to go on.

“I was dancing. Having a really good time,” she recounted in minimal detail, a smile playing on her lips at the memory. But she had been having a great time. She’d been super busy for the weeks prior, as it had been her first time as a TA with finals to grade, as well as working on her own final projects. But Regan had dragged her out for a night of no stress, and it had worked. “And – I don’t really know. I was dancing with a woman, and there was a – a spark? I guess? And… she kissed me.”

Sutton hadn’t really known if there was a spark or not, because she hadn’t really known what to register that feeling as. Not until the kiss. Yes, she’d felt heated and worked up. Yes, she’d perhaps felt it, before, when in similar moments with women over the previous few years. But she’d just – she’d never known what to make of it, which seemed ridiculous. But, she supposed compulsory heterosexuality could be a bitch in that way.

“And the kiss – it kind of changed everything.” She couldn’t still feel it, not really. Because she didn’t even know that woman, she hadn’t had the chance to develop feelings for her or anything. But she could remember what it had unlocked inside of her, and that was special, and big, and life-altering.

“And… you were just… dancing with this woman?” Charlotte asked, her voice low and inquisitive.

Sutton blinked, focusing on Charlotte. “Um… yes…?”

“Huh,” Charlotte hummed softly, tilting her head at Sutton, her own smile toying at her lips.

“What’s with that face?” She pressed.

Charlotte’s eyebrows lifted high. “What face?”

An exasperated laugh escaped her as she gestured at Charlotte. “That face!”

Charlotte raked her eyes over her, a considering glint in her eyes. One that made Sutton buzz with awareness, her easy amused curiosity being chased away by it. Still, Charlotte seemed to be biting back her comment.

But now, Sutton needed to know. “What is it?”

“I – nothing,” she breathed out, and it sounded more to herself than to Sutton. Like she was reminding herself not to say something.

Sutton landed her hands on her hips, insisting, “Come on, out with it. You’re the one who asked for this story!”

Charlotte slowly nodded, doing that thing where she traced her index finger over her wine glass again. “I suppose I did,” she acknowledged. “I simply can’t imagine you… dancing. A waltz or even a tango, of course. Something you’ve, well, learned. But club dancing?”

Sutton frowned, insult creeping through her, tinged with insecurity. “Excuse you, Charlotte Thompson.”

Charlotte held her hands up. “I am not insulting you, I swear.”

“It certainly doesn’t feel that way,” she countered, her eyebrows furrowed together tightly.

Because it really did. Like, a lot. It overtook her hurt, in this moment, over Regan not telling her about Emma. Well, it hurt in a different way at least.

But… having Charlotte look at her and basically say she wasn’t capable of being sexy was – jesus, ouch. Sutton didn’t have much of an ego, but she really hadn’t been expecting that blow to it tonight. Here, with Charlotte, of all people.

Charlotte’s expression slightly mollified her as she slipped from the stool she’d been sitting on and walked around the island. She reached out and landed her hand on Sutton’s wrist, squeezing softly. “I swear, Darling, I wasn’t impugning you. I meant absolutely nothing by that comment, other than… it doesn’t really reflect in your demeanor, is all. And I’m not saying that’s a bad thing,” she was quick to add, holding Sutton’s eyes with her own, the look in hers very solemn. “I think your personality is very charming.”

A little, consoling smile played on Charlotte’s full lips, but Sutton didn’t feel consoled.

Charlotte was mollifying her by saying that her “demeanor” wasn’t capable of being… tempting? Sexy? Smooth, even when it came to a physical dance? And it wasn’t comforting at all.

Even if she could try to take the Charlotte aspect out, the reality was – if Charlotte, who knew her, didn’t think she could be alluring, then how would a woman Sutton was just starting to get to know, who she wasn’t comfortable with?

She tilted her chin up, challengingly.

“And how am I supposed to expect that you’re an expert on dancing?” She returned, even though she knew she was playing with fire.

Because there was nothing about Charlotte that suggested in any way she didn’t know how to move her body in a way that would entice.

Charlotte’s eyebrows rose, a surprised but pleased grin pulling at her. “Are you… challenging me?”

“No. Yes. I only mean, it’s not like you danced tonight while we were out.”

“Well, we ran into someone I very much didn’t want to take the risk of approaching me while I was dancing,” Charlotte responded, referencing Vanessa. “If it had been a safe space, I would have.”

“So, you enjoy dancing then? When you’d go out?” She knew this direction of the conversation had been started focused on her, but she was far more interested in the Charlotte of it all.

“I love it,” Charlotte’s response was immediate, no hesitation. “Even when – no, frankly, especially when – it’s not with someone in specific. When I can just be. When I can let loose.”

Charlotte seemed to really mean that, as she tilted her head back and released a long, deep sigh. She seemed… wistful. In a way that cut through everything else inside of Sutton in this moment. In a way that made her want to be able to lean into it, to be able to fulfil that for Charlotte.

Charlotte, who existed in this world as constantly on the lookout. Charlotte, who lived her daily life in constant control. A life in politics, in the public eye – especially for a woman, and especially for a woman that was hiding her sexual identity – meant that it wasn’t a normal need for control that Charlotte experienced.

It was a need to be able to control, to the best of her ability, how the country perceived her. The way she dressed, the way she spoke, the people she associated with – it could all matter, at any given point in time.

And the way she sounded, that longing in her voice, about how she would have loved to be able to dance tonight…

Sutton wanted her to have that.

The way Sutton saw it, it was her duty as both Charlotte’s friend and assistant to make it happen.

With that, she reached out for where she’d placed her phone on the island when they’d arrived, and quickly pulled up one of the playlists Regan had created for them to occasionally listen to around the apartment, usually when getting ready to go out. She started the playlist, arching a look at Charlotte as she lifted her phone and lightly wiggled it, before setting it back down.

“Okay, let’s do it, then.”

Charlotte inhaled deeply, blinking at Sutton before she asked, “Do… what, exactly?”

She couldn’t tell if Charlotte was being deliberately obtuse. She had to be, right? “Dance, obviously. This way, I can prove to you that I can do it without looking like a total ass.” God, she fucking hoped, or she was going to look like a huge idiot. “And you can just… enjoy yourself.”

For a moment, as the music beat through the air between them, they simply stared at one another, eyes locked.

Sutton’s heart skipped a beat at the intensity of Charlotte’s stare.

“I didn’t mean…” she trailed off, taking a sharp breath at the idea of what was about to leave her mouth. Then a deep breath, to center herself. “I didn’t mean we had to dance together. Just, that we would both dance.”

They stared at one another again, the music pulsing, before Charlotte nodded. She took a few steps over to the wall, where she dimmed the lights. Not enough that it resembled the lighting of a real club, but enough that they were… soft.

“You start,” Charlotte gestured for her to, well, dance, giving her an appraising look. “Since you’re the one with something to prove.”

Sutton took in a deep breath, feeling absurdly self-conscious. Especially because Charlotte was absolutely right; she had been the one to insist that she could do this.

With that in mind, she shook her hair back and closed her eyes. No way could she do this while she could look at Charlotte. More than that, she couldn’t do this while she could see Charlotte looking at her.

She went to a different place in her mind, listening to the music.

Charlotte hadn’t been totally off-base in assuming that Sutton knew several “dances” given that she’d taken lessons in her youth, and had then practiced the steps with both Oliver and Regan, frequently, at home.

But she believed those classes and lessons had helped her a great deal when she’d started going out as an adult. Sutton knew she could be… awkward.

But she also knew she fucking had rhythm. As long as she wasn’t too caught up in her thoughts or feeling nervous, as long as she could just focus on the music, focus on having fun, she would be absolutely fine.

And she had something to prove here. To Charlotte. To herself, even though she knew she was flirting with the edge of what was appropriate.

Still, she let go and let herself think about being out for a night with Regan.

Her muscles relaxed, and she let herself feel the fact that she’d had a few drinks tonight.

After a few seconds, she could feel the beat of the music, and she worked her hips along with it.

Keeping her eyes closed, keeping herself – mentally – in a club, with her friends, she continued to move, feeling better, looser. She could hear Regan’s encouragement, the way she’d wolf-whistle at Sutton when they’d had a drink or two while getting ready in their apartment and Sutton would be able to let go.

It had taken a minute or two, but she got there in this moment. To that place where she could let go, and just move.

It was only then that she opened her eyes, bringing herself back into the reality that she was in Charlotte’s apartment, with Charlotte. That she’d started this to prove to Charlotte that she could be… sexy? Alluring?

But she couldn’t even really focus on that, not when Charlotte was now dancing, too.

And she didn’t seem to have the same issue that Sutton did, trying to get into the right headspace to find a rhythm.

No, Charlotte’s curvy hips swayed and rolled with a rhythm that she must have been born with, because – because that wasn’t taught.

The way Charlotte moved her body wasn’t something someone could learn, Sutton was sure of it.

Her hair looked even darker in the dimmed lighting, and there was a small smile that curved at her full lips, and her face was a little flushed, and she – she was breathtaking.

She looked exactly the way Sutton had thought she might, like she didn’t have a weight pressing down on her shoulders.

A large part of Sutton wanted to do just this – to watch Charlotte. And not even because she was so ridiculously, effortlessly sexy, but because it was beautiful. Seeing her doing something she enjoyed just because she enjoyed it.

But a bigger part of her knew that she couldn’t stand here and watch. They might be friends, this might be a weekend, but… it wasn’t all they were.

So, she shook her head and forced herself not to stare, and kept dancing, herself.

Through another song, in which she was able to relax, again.

And into another song, when she felt Charlotte’s hip brush against hers, and Sutton’s eyes opened widely. Though she didn’t stop moving, and neither did Charlotte. Whose eyes were also open.

They weren’t dancing “together” but… but they were no longer dancing apart, either.

They were in the in-between space, somewhere perfectly liminal.

When Charlotte worked her hips to the beat of the music, Sutton could feel the ghost of her body heat. She could feel the little breaths Charlotte released as she moved, hot and heavy, against Sutton’s shoulder.

Her hands itched to reach out. To touch Charlotte, to skim her hands over her sides, to really feel her.

In a way that Sutton would do if she was dancing with Regan or Emma, someone she knew and didn’t feel this attraction to. She would do it, but – but she knew it wouldn’t feel the way Charlotte would made her feel.

There was a buzzing alarm in the back of her mind that kept her from doing it, even as she could swear they’d moved even closer. Close enough to brush against one another nearly constantly, these little, teasing touches, that amounted to nothing.

But if they amount to nothing, why was she so painfully aroused?

With every movement, she could feel herself aching and pulsing. Wanting. Wanting in a way she couldn’t remember feeling for anyone else.

Definitely not right now, with Charlotte’s gaze focused on her.

“See?” She rasped out, her heart thrumming in her chest. “I can dance.”

“You can,” Charlotte acknowledged, hoarsely, and her pupils were blown.

Which – it didn’t mean anything. Sutton had to make herself take a beat and think. Think about the fact that even though she’d had a couple of drinks tonight, Charlotte had even more. She didn’t think Charlotte was drunk, but she definitely wasn’t sober.

And, and the things Charlotte was willing to do – dance with her like this, look at her like that – didn’t mean the same thing when Charlotte wasn’t sober.

She needed to think about that.

And to keep herself from thinking about anything else, she asked, “So, can you imagine it, then?”

“Imagine what?” Charlotte murmured, in a voice so low, it skated over Sutton and gave her goosebumps.

She shuddered, her heart skipping a beat in her chest as her thoughts ran wild. She blinked, several times, her movements coming to a stop as she forced herself to have a grip on reality. What had she been saying?

“Um. Can you imagine why the woman kissed me that night? Even if I hadn’t really been aware of whatever vibe I might have been putting out?”

“I–” Charlotte broke off on a deep throaty breath, and Sutton’s question seemed to snap her back into reality, as well. Her own dancing stopped, and she rolled her shoulders back, and just like that, the weight was back. That tense control. “I cannot – should not – remark on that. As your boss. It,” she paused, clearing her throat. “Certainly feels like crossing a boundary.”

Charlotte gave her a tight smile, placating, as she stepped back. She reached over and tapped on Sutton’s phone to pause the music.

She let out a long exhale, her stomach tied in knots. Really, she felt like all of her nerves were tied into knots. Like she was on the edge of something, and it was something she couldn’t do, couldn’t have.

“I… should go,” she said, unsure if she was saying it more to herself than to Charlotte.

But Charlotte immediately agreed. “It’s getting late. I’ll get you a car; it should only take a minute, if you want to head down.”

Sutton nodded, feeling like everything was so abrupt, but also like it needed to be. Abrupt was good. “I, uh, I’ll see you Monday?”

“Of course,” Charlotte responded, without hesitation, and that made some of the jumbled feelings inside of Sutton settle. Okay, so – the dancing hadn’t crossed the line. Everything would be normal come Monday. Right?

The whole way home, her mind was spinning.

Charlotte being so close to her. The way they’d touched, just barely but so controlled. Did Charlotte want her, too?

Was it only because she’d been drinking and had let go of her control?

Was it only because of the physicality of the dancing?

After all, Charlotte had expressed to her that she wasn’t dating or having sex, and that those used to be very important outlets for her, so… it seemed like a natural reaction, regardless of who Sutton was, when they’d been in such close quarters.

And, as she unlocked her apartment door, she realized – that left a very sour taste in the back of her mouth. The idea that she could have possibly been any woman dancing like that with Charlotte, for Charlotte to have looked at her that way.

God, and that was definitely a feeling that crossed a line.

Regan popped out from the end of the entry hallway as soon as she opened the door, like a jump scare out of a horror movie.

Sutton did, indeed, jump back, her heart racing. “Jesus!”  

“Sutton!” Regan shouted at the same time. “You just ran off tonight and disappeared. I’ve been worried sick!”

Incredulous, Sutton double-checked the time on her phone before she walked far enough into their apartment to shut the door behind her. “It’s been barely two hours since I walked in on you and Emma. At your work.”

Wow, she’d gotten so caught up in the Charlotte of the last hour, she’d truly forgotten about the other giant bomb that had gone off tonight. Regan and Emma. At the café.

“Two hours is a long time,” Regan countered, exasperatedly. “When I’m wondering about where you went and why you’re freaking out so much.”

For a few beats, Sutton only stared at her, baffled. “Are you going to tell me that if you walked in on me making out with Emma, you wouldn’t lose your mind?”

It was rhetorical, because she was positive Regan would lose her ever-loving shit.

Regan, to her credit, huffed out a sigh. “Okay, fine. I would.” She frowned, deeply. “Especially now.”

And, there it was.

Sutton scrubbed a hand over her face, roughly. Granted, this was a much preferred avenue of thought than her Charlotte-related thoughts.

“I just don’t understand.” She didn’t understand so many things. “You and Emma don’t even like each other–” She started, only for Regan to cut in.

“In total fairness, she didn’t like me. I’ve never had a problem with her.”

Sutton let out a deep, acquiescing sigh. “Okay, yes, fine. But still.” Emma had always been very insistent in her annoyance of Regan! So – how?! “You’ve never even told me you’re… I don’t even know what you identify as?!”

Sutton leaned heavily back against the hallway wall, shaking her head.

“That’s the crux of it all, I guess. In what world would I not know this information about you?” She asked, quietly, her stomach twisting with it.

Regan was next to her in an instant, leaning against the wall, shoulder to shoulder. “I didn’t know, either. I swear.”

“What happened?” She just needed to know. “And – when?” Because she was now wracking her mind, going through so many interactions.

Regan took in a deep breath. “The what is – I don’t know. There wasn’t a “moment.” I… we’ve been spending time together for the last few months, at the café. And I realized – all right, there was a moment, where Emma ended up having something spilled on her, and she was changing in the back room, and I saw her, and I was like woah–”

Sutton held up her hand, pausing the image Regan was painting. “Okay. So. You realized you were attracted to her, then.”

Regan nodded, vehemently. “Emma – I have permission to tell you – is bi, too. Mostly with a preference for women,” she added, consideringly. “And I learned that in the last couple months, too. We just, we’ve had a lot of time. To talk. And get to know each other. And earlier this summer, I thought she’d want to kill me if we worked together, but I guess I’ve won her over.”

“I’ll say,” Sutton confirmed, her mind whirling with the developments. “You forgot to tell me about the when.”

“Just – the last… month?” Regan said, tentatively.

Sutton snapped her head to the side, mouth agape. “A month?!”

She’d only sat with her crush on her closeted politician boss for less than a fucking day before Regan had known!

“A little over a month ago is when I realized I was attracted to her and we had a moment,” Regan clarified. “The kissing and stuff only happened in the last few weeks.”

Sutton nodded, taking that in. A few weeks. Okay.

“We aren’t in a relationship. I don’t think. I don’t really know,” Regan confessed.

Again, something totally confounding for Sutton, because there was a lot of emotion in Regan’s voice. “Do you want to be?”

Regan had never really been super into relationships, before. Not at all. So, this was a big thing. A huge thing.

Regan shrugged, turning her head to look at Sutton directly. “I think… I might?”

“Wow.” Wow. Big. Huge. And she hadn’t known a thing.

“Yeah.”

“But why didn’t you tell me?” She couldn’t help but push. That was the thing she needed the answer to the most.

Regan’s dark eyes were focused on her for a beat, her expression uncharacteristically worried and vulnerable, a combination she never was around Sutton. “I guess I – I don’t know. You’re not home that much, anymore. Most weeks, you’ve been going to D.C. with Charlotte for at least four days. And even when you’re home, you’re working long hours, or you’re going to events…” She trailed off, worrying at her bottom lip.

“Did you think I wouldn’t be happy for you? Or that I wouldn’t… wouldn’t care?” She could barely push that out, because the very idea of it cut so deep. Did Regan believe that – that because Sutton was so entrenched in work – in Charlotte – that she didn’t care about her?

Regan’s eyes widened. “No,” she insisted. “I know you’d care. And I – well, I didn’t know if you’d be happy,” she scoffed. “I get that me-and-Emma could be… complicated, for you. But I knew you wouldn’t be pissed or something.”

She tentatively nodded in agreement, because, good.

“I guess, I just…” Regan’s eyebrows furrowed, before she shrugged again, looking down at her hands. “You and I, we’ve been living the same kind of life for years. We live here, together. You go to school. I manage Topped Off. It’s like, we’re in the same stage of our lives. And now, all of the sudden, we’re not. Now, you work for Charlotte Thompson. You work in her office and you go places in her private car with a driver and you travel to D.C., and – like tonight – you even, like, hang out with her and go to fancy, secret clubs.”

Regan intertwined her fingers in front of her, toying with them, as she continued to not look at Sutton.

“It’s kind of felt like – like, maybe, you’re outgrowing me. And not like you’re doing anything wrong,” Regan added, quickly, darting her eyes back up at her, insistently. “You’re doing exactly what you should be doing. Figuring your “adult” life out and all. But… I… I suppose I felt like I shouldn’t have to come to you with every little thing. Like I should also be an “adult” and navigate whatever I have going on, without bringing you into it.”

Sutton pushed away from where she’d been leaning, shifting to put herself directly in front of Regan, before she reached out and grabbed both of Regan’s hands with hers. Needing Regan to hear her.

“I’m never going to outgrow you, Regan. Not ever. There’s no… there’s no me without you.” Sutton knew that not many people understood their friendship and how close they were, the definition of chosen family. But she understood how intrinsically intertwined she and Regan were. “And I hope you know that – that everything you have going on in your life is always important to me. Even if I’m busy or focused on work–”

“And Charlotte,” Regan added in, wiggling her eyebrows playfully as she looked up at her.

Relief washed through Sutton at the teasing. God, it was so good to see teasing-Regan right now.

So good, she couldn’t even summon her own eye roll. Because it was the absolute truth, wasn’t it? “And Charlotte.”

Regan tilted her head to the side, eyeing Sutton closely. “Soooo, what happened with you and Charlotte tonight?”

Sutton angled her chin up, haughty. “You think I’m going to tell you my updates before you tell me yours? Ha. You’ve got a lot more to give me before I dish to you.”

Regan’s mouth dropped open. “So there’s something to tell?!”

She felt herself blush, her body easily buzzing at the memory of the dance. Of how Charlotte had moved her body, so insanely hot. Of the ghost of Charlotte’s right against her…

She let out a shaky breath. “Maybe. Maybe not. You can try to earn details by sharing yours with me. With Emma.”

What in the hell had tonight turned into?

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