Saudade | Loubbie

Chapter Fifty Eight

Debbie's world rumbled with chaos the moment Lou claimed her lips. That musky smell of autumn wood mixed with that saccharine vanilla seeped into the brunette's system as Lou pressed herself against her. The whole world seemed to stop moving and everything that was in the room seemed to vanish, one by one. All Debbie could see was how Lou had her eyes closed, lips on her lips, hands on her waist and back; the kiss was hungry yet sweet - it was something she had dreamt of tasting for such a long time, and there it was - happening at the moment. There was an immense hunger living in the brunette's system and the moment Lou's lips was on her, it magically vanished; Debbie felt brand new, renewed, as if she was just baptized in the ruins of the churches in Italy. The door on Debbie's office was open, but she could not care less. How could she think of the door when Lou's lips was deliciously kissing her? Damn that door, Debbie thought before she clung on the blonde's neck, returning back the kiss.

The ticking of the clock sounded so dead compared to the hammering of Debbie's heart. Kissing the blonde back - she did not know what would happen, but she knew that she should not waste the opportunity to kiss her again. It was a moment of life and death and the brunette surely have predicted that if she would not kiss Lou, she would be digging up her own grave and burrying herself down in regrets. And so she did. She kissed her back. Them, sharing the same passion and fervor. The sounds of their breathy sighs were heard, but nothing could surmount to the sounds of Debbie's heart that was bursting with the loud chanting of Lou's name.

"Don't stop..." Lou mumbled softly against the brunette's lips, her eyes digging into Debbie's deep brown ones, "Don't stop kissing me back."

Debbie did not answer, instead, she pulled Lou back through the tie of her suit and kissed her again. What the blonde said didn't sound like a command; for Debbie, it was a to-do. And moments later, there they were: Debbie up on the desk, the blonde standing in between her legs. Lou's hand up on the inside of Debbie's skirt and Debbie, the once composed Ocean, was up on the desk, with her head falling back as Lou started trailing kisses on the skin of the brunette's throat.

"Oh fuck, Lou." Debbie moaned, her hand instantly cradling Lou's head as the blonde started to lick her neck down to her cleavage, deeply mastered art of unbuttoning was performed by Lou and in just seconds, Debbie's blouse was widely opened, her black bra on full view.

The blonde smiled as she saw Debbie's toned stomach and just before Debbie could react, Lou slipped her hand and pulled down the brunette's underwear to her knees. And suddenly, the realization of the night grew on Debbie. Like a secluded ghost, Debbie gasped in shock as she looked at Lou, at her own self. Friends. We're friends. The brunette knew she was in love, still deeply and madly in love with her, but Lou was not anymore. That she could guarantee. And it would be so selfish of her to take everything in, finish the call of her flesh and take the blonde in when in reality, the blonde who was about to touch her pulsing flesh, was not in love with her anymore. And she didn't want it that way. She didn't want to take advantage of Lou.

"Lou..." Debbie called as looked at the blonde, eyebrows furrowed as she breathed, "Can't... Can't be doing this."

And when Debbie said those, it was when Lou pulled herself back in. She looked at her as if she didn't know what just happened and apologetically, Lou stepped back a bit; as if Debbie was fire and could burn her down.

"Fuck." A hand flew on the blonde's forehead as she looked at the state she put Debbie in, "God, fuck. I am sorry." She bit her lower lip as she stared at Debbie apologetically, "Debs. I... I, fuck. I am sorry." And with that, Lou ran out of the room, leaving Debbie on her desk, still processing everything that had happened.

-----

Her eyes were as deep as the unknown forest sinkholes. The state she was in was something she, herself, could not fathom. Debbie still felt her kisses, those tiny sweet nothings on the skin of her neck were still there, ghosting her existence. She had been staring down at the margarita in front of her, still unsure whether she would drink it or not. The whole place  was packed  - people in different walks of life filled the whole space. Neon lights of green, yellow and red flashed through before her very eyes. The music was a goddamn vibe and if she was younger, Debbie knew that she would not be sitting on the bar waiting for some miracle to happen; if she was younger, she would be on the dance floor grabbing men and women, kissing people she does not recognize.

"Love?"

Debbie looked up at the bartender as she heard him speak. The whole place was crowded, but she knew she heard him. Though, not really sure, she smiled at him sympathetically before the bartender sat in front of her on the bar.

"You can never solve love problems by drinking, ma'am."

Debbie elicited a laugh as she looked at her untouched margarita, "Not even drinking."

"So love?"

"It's complicated."

The young man, probably in his twenties shook his head at Debbie, "It's complicated. Same line. I bet you're the same age as her."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Well, we have this costumer, not really regular, but she comes here maybe once a month? But yeah. She does not drink though. She orders a glass of margarita, sometimes tequila, but doesn't drink it. She just stares at it until she leaves. She says the drink reminds her of her ex-wife. The thing is, she's just like you." The bartender started as he started wiping the bar, "She's divorced to a beautiful and great, but hardheaded woman. That's what she told me. And also she says it's complicated."

The strings on Debbie's heart screamed familiarity. She had sensed that the woman the bartender was talking about was Lou. She was not really sure, but her heart was certain. And as she sat there on the bar, she silently hope Lou would walk in. She deserved to not be left on the desk like what happened an hour ago.

"Is this woman blonde?" Debbie managed to ask.

"Oh, yeah. Wait, I think I saw her earlier." The bartender jested before he scanned the whole space and within seconds, he pointed somewhere just beside the dance floor, "There she is! That woman, ma'am."

Debbie turned to look back, and she was not mistaken. Lou Miller was there, sitting alone on a vip couch, with a glass of margarita in front of her, untouched.

***