The Strip

Part 16

Freen POV:

You're bored.

Utterly, fantastically bored.

You can't even distract yourself with the taste of Rebecca because she's off taking photographs of Aden - trying to promote some new sports drink with sweaty MMA fighting pictures.

You hate to admit the idea of a sweaty Rebecca leaves you a little... thirsty.

But, she won't be the one that's sweating in front of the camera, so you have her a slap on the ass and sent her on her way without you this morning.

But now...

...you're bored.

Sophia's busy with Amelia, as always, and you've officially run out of storage room for your paintings of Rebecca, even if she somehow managed to convince you to put a few of them up on the internet for sale. You've sold a few for what you feel is an exorbitant price, struggling to let it go because the thought of someone gazing upon the sight of a bare Rebecca makes you uncomfortable.

Ironic, really, considering your profession.

The phone rings with an unknown number while you're lying upside down on your couch thinking about the sight of Rebecca's bare ass with charcoal and paint smudges from a spirited paint fight that led to several orgasms and a broken canvas.

"Hello?" You huff.

"Freen?"

The one syllable, the wavering click of the 'C' makes Your heart freeze in your chest. The voice is so similar, but so foreign at the same time. You had resigned yourself to a life without ever hearing it again.

"Mom?"

***

Rebecca walks into your apartment, the sound of her keys landing in the bowl accompanied by the thump of her leather boots being kicked into the closet. It's not enough to pull you from the stupor you currently find yourself in; however.

"Freen?" She whispers, kneeling down beside you to run her hands through your hair. This close, her eyes are so green. A shade of emerald mixed with sea foam, and the hint of worry always brings out the gold flecks. "Baby?" She worries her lip and her hands hover over your skin, frantic and gentle and confused, but you can't find the words to express yourself - can't put a name to the emotions that you feel. You huff and close your eyes, inhaling the soothing scent of your lover while you try to regain yourself, knowing that the pulsating beat of the blood rushing to your brain is not helping you think any more clearly on what to do.

You roll back up onto the couch, the dizzying effect of hanging your head off the side for an absurd amount of time making your brain actually hear static. It's a welcomed distraction.

Your head thumps heavily and sparks a migraine that you should have known was waiting. You try to lift your head to look at your girlfriend, only to let it fall lazily back down onto the cushions.

Rebecca doesn't sit beside you. Instead, She hovers, the sound of her dropping to her knees in front of the couch all there is to give away her presence while you curse yourself for the deafening sound of blood in your ears.

"My mom," you croak out, eyes closed tightly at the reverberating sound.

Rebecca sighs, slightly annoyed at the scare you gave her. "Is she okay?" Her hand is warm when it relaxes on your back, and you relish the heat that trickles through your white shirt and into your skin.

"She's fine," you sigh.

"Okay..." you can hear the confusion in your lover's voice. You've had countless conversations in regards to your mother - countless sessions of you admitting your desire to have her in your life, and yet...