BLISSFUL ENCOUNTER [Jenlisa FF]

Part 21

"What's that?"

Jennie's head came up with an almost audible snap, and she found Lisa standing in the doorway, only clad in a pair of unbuttoned jeans, and sport bra. She was fresh from the shower, her hair still wet and several remaining droplets were still clinging to her chest. Her mouth went instantly dry at the sight, and she had to swallow hard, before she could make her voice work. "Wh-what?" she asked in confusion, her mind refusing to do anything but focus on the perfect example of the male species standing in her kitchen doorway.

Lisa's mouth turned into a knowing half-grin, but instead of commenting on her current state she nodded at the flat box she'd placed on the chair she'd obviously reserved for her. "That," Lisa repeated. "Is it - for me?"

Following the direction of her eyes, Jennie looked at the package as well, and after a moment she managed to pull herself together, and her thoughts away from X-rated images racing through her mind. "Oh," she blushed, then cleared her throat. "Yes, yes, it is." Laughing slightly, and a little bit self-consciously, she pointed at the box. "It's ... uhm ... nothing, really. I went out a couple of days ago." She rolled her eyes, "Actually because I needed a cocktail dress, but I ended up with this."

Now it was Lisa turn to feel suddenly dry-mouthed, and oddly touched by the idea of Jennie buying something for her - at a time when their relationship hadn't been one at all.

With slightly trembling fingers she reached out, touching the fragile wrapping paper with initials stamped on it, probably coming from one of the expensive boutiques she frequented, no doubt. For a moment, Lisa found herself wondering if this could ever work, with them coming from backgrounds so different, then she firmly suppressed the thought. It was nonsense anyway. She had worked too hard for this; she wouldn't let self-doubts destroy it again. Backgrounds were just that, the past. It was up to them to make the present and the future.

Her voice rough with emotion she carefully lifted the box, placing it on the table while she seated herself at the same time. "Can I - open it?"

"Of course," Jennie encouraged, biting her lower lip as a sure sign of nervousness. "Go on."

Tearing the wrapping, she lowered her eyes and lifted the lid. The box contained an obviously handmade sweater, with a soft, rough-textured, dark-burgundy background. It had an intricate pattern in white and blue, with a satin sheen to it. Lisa touched the sweater with tentative fingers. It felt wonderfully soft, and was, without doubt, an expensive piece of clothing. But it was also a thoughtful, well-chosen gift from a woman she loved more than she'd thought possible. "It's beautiful," Lisa said softly, still looking at it, "I ..." rising her head, she smiled slowly. "Thank you."

For a moment her features were blank, but then the most beautiful smile broke out on her face, turning it radiant, like morning sunshine, and her eyes became sparkling beacons. Lisa suddenly found it hard to speak, felt herself tumbling head-on into her, her breath quickening, her heart starting to race.

"I'm glad," Jennie said, totally oblivious to what her smile had done to her. "Well, put in on. I want to see it on you."

Swallowing, Lisa forced herself to relax. They had made love several times in the last twelve hours, damn it. Why the hell did she still feel like a love-crazed teenager at the sight of her beautiful smile? she'd thought she was past hormone-induced lovesickness, but obviously she was wrong. At least, where Jennie was concerned. She just had to look at her, and she turned to mush. "I ... uh ... yes, I will."

Standing up with the sweater in her hand, setting the box aside, she was grateful for the chance to move, to give himself a moment to pull himself together.

Jennie watched as Lisa pulled the sleeves over her hands, then lifted her arms. A sudden rush of heat swept over her as she saw the muscles of her chest and belly stretch and flex as she tugged the sweater over her head. Something about that expanse of naked skin lessening as she pulled the edge of the sweater over her shoulders over the ridged abdomen and past the navel that seemed intimately sexy to her, above the still unfastened waistband of her jeans, made a wave of pleasure spread through her in ever widening ripples.