Aim to Please (wlw)

ch. 19 • is red her favorite color?

The sunrise painted my view with swirls of warm pastels. I sipped my bitter black coffee, frowning at the piss-poor quality. What did I pay for?

"Laur?"

At her sleepy call, I turned around, smiling. Right as I was about to speak, my brain finally registered what my eyes were seeing:

Mackenzie, bathed in pale sunlight, her lower half covered in Egyptian cotton. Her beautiful mahogany hair was ruffled, depicting hard sleep, and her innocent brown eyes were fighting to stay open. Her breasts, prominent and soft, peeked out of the covers. They hung slightly to the side, thanks to their heft. My tongue itched to taste her mauve areolas.

"Laur?" Mackenzie called out again, whiny.

"Mm? Oh, sorry, mon cheri," I muttered, clearing my throat.

I sat my coffee cup on the edge of the partition between the seating area and the bed before sashaying to my awaiting love. The warmth under the covers soothed my soul as I tangled our legs together and nestled her head against my chest. Mackenzie's happy hum vibrated into my sternum, drawing out a chuckle.

"Good morning, my sweet girl." I trailed my hand up and down her spine, relishing in her soft intakes of breath at the tickling sensation. "I hope you are ready for the day."

"What are we doing?"

"Well," I cut myself off with a yawn. "Apologies. We will be getting breakfast. Then we will go see the sights until dinner tonight— which will be a surprise, so do not ask, Mackenzie."

"Fine." My bratty queen rolled her eyes and pouted, huffing out a bitter sigh.

"Darling," I murmured low, catching her eyes with mine. She nodded sheepishly. "Anyway. It is quite fancy, so I packed you 2 options."

Mackenzie squealed, excitement palpable. "Will we match?"

Of course. When we came together in matching clothing, we would catch attention. Yin and yang, matching but separate. Mackenzie in a dress, with her pear shape, was intoxicating and alluring to many— something I enjoyed, allowing me to smirk down at anyone who attempted to remove her from my arm.

"As always, mon cheri."

•

"Welcome to the Adirondack Pottery," a cheerful clerk greeted us. Her apron was covered in dried clay water. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but I have a party on the way for a private session. I don't have any free space this afternoon—"

"Yes, indeed," I interjected with a soft but firm tone. "I am Laurie Montague. We spoke on the phone—"

"Oh my god, I am so sorry," she gushed, the red splotches of embarrassment hiding her freckles. "Of course, Ms. Montague. Feel free to look around while I go set up the work stations."

Once she was out of earshot, Mackenzie whispered, "You rented out the entire gallery?"

"It is not that big of a space, Mackenzie. I wanted to be with my girlfriend and have a nice, relaxing afternoon learning a new skill together, so— in my opinion, this is quite priceless."

I watched as my lover grappled with the earnesty of my words. It hurt me so deeply to know that she had not been cherished as she deserves, that women had the audacity to run her esteem and sense of importance into the mud. Sighing gently, I leaned forward and kissed her forehead, lips lingering for a few seconds.

"Alright, ladies! I'm ready for you now," the clerk chirped. "My name is Adrienne, and you are Ms. Montague. But you, miss?"

Mackenzie cleared her throat, a smile jerkily appearing on her face. "Mackenzie."