Bless Shonn and Cercatrice, my patient and intelligent beta readers.
For the_mixer, by request.
* * *
DAY ONE
* * *
Alcatraz loomed ever closer as the ferry moved through through calm water. Idina turned her face to the sunshine and thanked God that after months of seeing Kristin every day, she hadn't yet gotten sick of Kristin's singing.
"If you're going to San Francisco be sure to wear flowers in your hair," Kristin sang. She against the railing. A fresh breeze tousled her hair.
"One short day," Idina sang, over Kristin's voice, "...in the old prison..."
Kristin reached over and covered Idina's mouth. "No mentions of the show. Not today. This is our vacation."
"But we're spending it together," said Idina, drawing Kristin's wrist away from her mouth.
"That doesn't count. We're friends"
Idina nodded, and asked, "What about other shows?"
"No talk of musical theater. Even if we sing all day."
Kristin sounded defiant. Idina sighed and turned to face the water. Kristin resumed humming. Idina closed her eyes. She inhaled the salty air, let the humid wind warm her skin. Sunburn wouldn't be a concern. Rehearsals just meant teasing from the crew. Then there was make-up. Wind, weather, heartbreak, laryngitis--the stage was easier to suffer through than it looked. Green covered up a lot.
The timbre of the singing had changed. The sounds coming from Kristin were choked. "Are you crying?" she asked, opening her eyes, looking straight ahead at the sea.
"Yes," said Kristin, with a slight, anguished squeak. "I was thinking that once the show starts, I won't be able to take a ferry out for a day. Or sing whatever I want. Or even talk. And we're in San Francisco, if you haven't noticed."
"I noticed. Do you cry at everything?"
Kristin brushed tears off her cheek, and said, "Yes. I do."
Idina smirked and said, "It's going to be a long run."
Kristin said, "I can't help it. There are gentle people there, the song goes. And San Francisco... It's not just the boys from Castro Street who leave the roses at our stage door. It's the homeless. And the artists. The immigrants, and Chinatown, and the BART."
"You're crying over the BART? The subway?"
Kristin inhaled, swallowing back a sob.
Idina slung her arm around Kristin's shoulders. "The Birdman was at Alcatraz, you know. He loved the birds, raised them, cared for them, but they never let him have any at the prison." She wondered if Kristin could ever run out of tears.
Kristin gulped, and whispered, "That's... horrible."
Something in her tone--the lightness that Idina had learned was Kristin's stage persona, made Idina question the sincerity of her quavering lip and the fresh tears on her cheeks. Idina peeked at her. Kristin winked when Idina caught her eye.
"You jerk," said Idina.
Kristin's grin grew wider. "You're the jerk. Trying to get me to cry, instead of sing."
"Hey, I didn't make you start crying...That was the BART."
Kristin narrowed her eyes.
"Sorry. More singing. Such a strange vibration," sang Idina.
Kristin elbowed her in the stomach.
"It's part of the song, you know," said Idina.
Kristin elbowed her again.
"Smart ass," Idina said.
"Meanie."
"Some friend."
Kristin wrinkled her nose.
The ferry bumped gently against the dock, and the ferryman called out the location over the speakers. "Alcatraz."
"I wonder if they'll ever let us leave," said Idina.
Kristin grinned, and took her elbow. "Let's go and find out."
Idina departed from the boat. Kristin hung on her arm, making her feel like a celebrity. She forgot no one was watching. Kristin's cheek against her shoulder and Kristin's humming voice demanded spectacle, but there was only sunlight overhead. Idina became distracted watching birds land in flower beds along the edges of the cliff.
Kristin had to drag her into the dimness of the prison where a tired volunteer thrust headphones at her. She took in the clean, worn walls. The prison felt quiet and abandoned. Kristin stood awestruck in the entryway, not really an obstacle to the people who squeezed past her small frame.
Idina took her hand. "Time to start."
"Tell me this place is foul," said Kristin, sliding her arm around Idina's waist.
Idina flicked the play button of her audio tour walkman. "I'll let you know. Why?"
"Because up close, it seems so peaceful."
"There's a lighthouse here, and it's a sanctuary for seabirds," Idina said. She pointed to a plaque. "Native Americans fought for their freedom here. Don't you believe in redemption?"
"I believe in forgiveness," said Kristin.
Idina squeezed her shoulder.
* * *
Before them stood an open cell, small and cold. The walls, painted institutional green and white, closed in on a narrow cot. The sign hanging next to the iron bars taunted them to experience being a prisoner.
Kristin balked. "Can't we go see the seagulls?"
Idina chuckled and said, "I'm not afraid."
"What are you afraid of, Idina?"
Idina bit her lip, and looked over her shoulder at Kristin as she stepped through the cell door. "Disappointing you."
Kristin's eyebrows rose. She opened her mouth to protest.
Idina smirked, and said, "Professionally."
Kristin grabbed the cell door and swung it closed, trapping Idina inside.
Idina sat on the narrow cot. She looked at the ceiling, and asked, "Do you know the words to the 'Jailhouse Rock?'"
Kristin laughed.
"Maybe I could play Richard the Third." Idina stood, and began to pace. "Now is the winter of our discontent..."
Kristin pursed her lips, and said, "You're no Ian McKellan."
"Are you saying I'm not scary?"
"You're not scary," said Kristin, leaning on the bars.
"Crap. How will I pull off the Wicked Witch?"
"Good lighting and special effects. The acting part makes you sympathetic."
"Are you calling me sympathetic?"
Kristin let her wrists dangle through the slats. "Very."
Idina smiled. She stood in the center of the cell and spread her arms. Her fingertips almost brushed the stone. She let her eyes meet Kristin's, and when Kristin smiled, Idina spoke. "But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon."
Kristin's eyes filled with tears, and Idina bit back the next words. Kristin reached through the slats. Her hand extended to Idina, she said in a choked voice, "Who is already sick and pale with grief. that thou, her maid, art more fair than she."
Idina stepped forward and took Kristin's hand. She stood close enough so that only the bars separated them, and whispered, "The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars."
She was stopped by Kristin's sob, and pulled Kristin's fingers to her cheek. She felt herself tremble. Kristin's fingertips tingled against her skin. Idina tried to suppress the thought of any connection; any spark. They had to work together. They had to live.
Alcatraz wasn't that romantic.
Applause broke out around them. Idina looked past Kristin to see the small, straggling group of tourists. A flash went off. Kristin's hand dropped from Idina's cheek to her shoulder. "Hey," said a man in the back. "I saw her at Lilith Fair. What's her name?"
Kristin wiped away her tears and laughed. "Oh, dear."
"I'm sorry. We promised. No theater."
Kristin let Idina out of the cell, and gave a wave to the tourists who were disbanding. "I guess the moment has passed. So what does that make us?"
"It's your rule," said Idina, shrugging.
"Rules are made to be broken."
Idina swallowed.
Kristin took her elbow, and said, "Let's go. Did you know children grew up here? Do you think they learned to swim where prisoners could see them?"
"Cruel, Kristin."
Kristin pinched her.
* * *
The sun dipped toward the horizon, turning the ocean orange. Before them, only water and fire. Behind them, dark land. Idina stood next to Kristin at the ferry railing. Seagulls hunted. Alcatraz receded in the distance, became more ominous in the setting sun. Idina tried to recall the sensation of spring and temple-like calm. She glanced down at Kristin.
Kristin had her arms folded and her hands pressed to her sides. Her jaw was set and she looked pale. Her hair, curly that morning, hung limply across her shoulders.
Idina slid closer, along the railing, and said, "You look cold."
Kristin nodded.
Idina opened her backpack and pulled out the sweatshirt she'd bought for her husband. She handed it to Kristin, who eyed her suspiciously.
"Come on, put it on," Idina said. "Taye will appreciate the hint of a woman's perfume."
Kristin grinned and slid the sweatshirt over her head. It was more than half again her size, and hung past her hips. The sleeves covered her hands. She folded her arms again, and said, "Much better."
Idina dared to place her hands on Kristin's shoulders. "Warmer?"
Kristin leaned back into her embrace, and said, "Yes."
Idina tried to be content with what she had. She pressed her cheek against Kristin's hair and breathed her in. The sun had set. The sky was still bright white but the water was dark grey, and murky.
Kristin rolled her head back against Idina's shoulder. She asked, "How come you didn't go for Lovelace, back in the cell?"
"I'm... not there yet," said Idina.
Kristin twisted until she was facing Idina, pinned between her and the ferry railing, and wrapped her arms around Idina's neck. She asked, "What would it take to get you there?"
Idina blinked. Though she was bigger, and had open space behind her, she felt trapped. Kristin's eyes were blue, she noticed distractedly. She'd not really noticed before, but here they were, too close, too blue, level with her chin. She coughed. "Do you want me to recite poetry for you, Kris?"
Kristin's hand slid across the back of her neck. She said, "You do have a beautiful voice."
Idina looked everywhere but at Kristin. She was saved by the ferry's bump against the dock. She said, after clearing her throat, "We're back."
Kristin wriggled out from the ferry railing and headed for the gangplank. "I'm hungry," she said.
Idina stared at her ass. "Me, too."
Kristin, all breasts and blonde hair, had a cab waiting before Idina could open her mouth to suggest one. She scrambled in after Kristin, who announced to the driver, "Supper."
The driver furrowed his brow.
"Dinner," said Idina.
"Right. Sometimes I slip," said Kristin, drawling her Oklahoma accent and winking at Idina.
"I'll take you to my favorite place," said the driver. "It matters not whether you eat meat."
Idina stretched out in the cab, and said, "Excellent."
"Chinese buffet?" Kristin gazed at the garish neon before her as Idina paid the cab driver.
Idina straightened and took in the restaurant. "Well, we can't eat at Chez Panisse every night."
"Can't we?"
Idina laughed. "Come on."
She held Kristin's chair for her, unsure where the impulse came from, and they ordered Chinese beer and filled their plates twice before conversation began to overtake eating, and the eating became more playing. Idina ducked her chin as Kristin dangled a limp pea pod over her mouth.
"Snow pea," Kristin said.
"I know that."
"You're the one who likes vegetables," Kristin said.
"Not... indiscriminately."
Kristin sighed.
Idina snapped the snow pea out of Kristin's fingers, grazing them in the process. She swallowed the snow pea nearly whole, while Kristin leaned back, aghast. Idina grinned.
Kristin picked up a fork, waved it threateningly at Idina, and then stabbed a boneless spare rib.
"I can't see how you can eat that stuff, anyway, and keep your girlish figure," Idina groused.
"My what?"
Idina gestured at Kristin's abdomen. "The tiny waistline?"
"It's tiny because I'm tiny. It's not especially tiny. In fact, it's especially... not."
Idina chopsticked a cube of tofu. "It especially is. You're, what, three feet tall? If you had meat on your bones, it would expand." She popped the tofu into her mouth, and then took a chopstick in each hand, and drew them apart.
Kristin forked up chicken. She said, musingly, "I'm an Oklahoma girl. I was born to eat like this."
"You were born to eat moo goo gai pan?"
"Oh, shut up."
Idina chuckled and took a sip of her water.
"I suppose, because you're tall, you can eat anything you want and it just goes up. So why the tofu?"
"Because meat is murder."
Kristin rolled her eyes.
Idina laughed. She said, "Fine. I'm not tall. I'm short. I'm just all legs."
"And you have a giant head."
"Thank you, Kristin."
Kristin nodded and scooped up another forkful of chicken.
"I have to eat like this. One Hershey's kiss and I balloon into Dumbo's mother. Taye likes himself a skinny woman."
Kristin swallowed. She set down her fork, and shifted, and tried to ask casually, "So, how is Taye?"
"Oh, he's fine, I called him while I was in the bathroom," said Idina.
Kristin squinted.
Idina asked, "You don't do all your personal calls in the bathroom?"
"I don't tell people!" Kristin exclaimed.
Idina chuckled. "I never know when to shut up. He says hello, by the way."
Kristin cocked her head to the side and puckered her lips. "Hi, Taye." She batted her eyelashes.
"I wish I had a camera phone," said Idina.
Kristin seemed to blush, and reached for her fork.
Idina glanced at her purse, where the phone was tucked, and then back at Kristin. "Kris," she said.
Kristin set down her fork. Blonde hair fell in front of her eyes. Idina wanted to brush it away, to see Kristin's eyes again, but she had to say this first, in order to have a chance at what she wanted. "I need to tell you... about Taye."
The color drained from Kristin's face. Idina reached over to cover her hand, on the fork, and then drew back, fearing to be too explicit. She wanted this to be just a normal statement thrown out between friends at dinner. "Fuck," she said, lowering her gaze away from Kristin's eyes. "This is so hard. It shouldn't be hard. I mean, it's just, you know... sharing information. That's all. That's all it is, right? I'm not asking you--"
Kristin grabbed her hand. "Idina, if Taye needs a kidney or something, I'll get tested."
Idina laughed suddenly. Tears stung her eyes. She wiped them away with her free hand, and said, "Okay, after that, this is going to sound stupid. I just wanted to say that Taye and I have an open marriage. That's it. The rumors around Broadway are true. Send a postcard."
Kristin let go of her hand. She said, "I thought you and Taye loved each other."
"We do love each other. Today, and ten years from today. And we count our blessings that our lives have intersected. But they're not parallel lines. I don't really like to hear about it, but I think it's necessary that he does it. He likes to hear about me, because he thinks..." She stopped talking.
"What?"
Idina looked to her left side, where people were waiting in line for the buffet. She said, "He thinks I'm capable of great love."
She felt Kristin's fingers brush hers, and then Kristin said, "You are."
"Maybe. I don't know. When I was little, all I ever wanted to do was be a star on Broadway. I have that chance now. And I have Taye and my family. And my health. I don't want to..."
"Screw it up by wishing for more? God doesn't work that way, Idina."
Idina smiled sheepishly. "I wouldn't know."
"That's why I'm your mentor, my dear."
"Right," said Idina. She curled her fingers around Kristin's. "Are you going to teach me to pray?"
"Hardly. I'm going to make sure you eat your vegetables, so that you can dance all night." Kristin picked up Idina's fork with her free hand, and stabbed tofu. She offered it to Idina.
"Tofu is not a vegetable," said Idina.
"I can't tell the difference."
Idina ate from the fork. Kristin set it down. She picked up a paper napkin and dabbed at the corner of Idina's mouth.
"This is romantic," Idina said, half-mumbling around Kristin's finger as Kristin scraped at soy sauce that had dried on her lip.
Kristin smiled. She cupped Idina's cheek. Her thumb brushed Idina's lips. Idina held her breath, concentrating on the light touches on her face. She watched Kristin until Kristin turned, just slightly, to meet her eyes. "Aren't going to say anything?" Kristin asked.
"Don't want to ruin the moment," said Idina.
"You couldn't."
Idina covered Kristin's hand with her own, and turned her face. She kissed Kristin's palm.
Kristin inhaled.
Idina let go of her hand. "Did I ruin the moment?"
"No, but we should go," said Kristin, dropping her hand from Idina's face and reaching for her purse.
"Why?"
"Because if we continue this course of behavior, we're going to get thrown out."
"I can see it now," said Idina, leaning back in her chair. "Drunken Broadway Stars Thrown Out of San Fransisco Landmark. The second line would read, 'Go back to New York!'"
Kristin laughed. "How about D-List Actors Try Desperately to Get Press Before Pre-Broadway Tryouts. Wicked to Open Next Month: Something about Candles?"
"Failed Sitcom Star and Taye Diggs' Wife Caught in Tryst," said Idina.
Kristin's hand froze on her purse. She stared at Idina with an incomprehensible expression. Idina swallowed.
A waiter appeared at the table. "Can I get you anything? You're... a little loud."
"Check, please," said Kristin.
The waiter produced it immediately from his apron.
Kristin cocked her head at Idina. "See?"
They both tossed cash onto the check and picked up the peppermints the waiter left. Idina offered her arm to Kristin, out of habit, and nearly dropped it back to her side, self-conscious. But Kristin took her elbow.
"Cab?" Idina asked.
"Let's walk. I can take a cab from the stand next to your hotel."
Idina nodded. She sighed, full of food, happy with Kristin's warm presence next to her.
"You never gave the subtitle to your second news story," murmured Kristin.
Idina smiled. "Sarah Brightman's Divorce a Distant, Fond Memory for San Franciscan Fans."
"Now that's a diva," said Kristin.
"One day," said Idina.
"But not tonight."
Idina smiled to herself, and said, "I can't remember the last time I spent the whole day with someone. When I didn't want to get away, to breathe."
"Ah, Idina Menzel. The consummate actor introvert," said Kristin, leaning on her arm.
"Look who's talking," said Idina.
"When's the last time you saw me alone?"
Idina smiled. "Being with you... it's like being alone."
"Thanks a lot."
"No, I meant... It's being myself."
"Better."
"Oh, shut up."
"Idina, you're supposed to ask me up for a nightcap," Kristin said, as they reached the brick sidewalk that lined the hotel entranceway.
Idina stopped on the sidewalk, and turned to Kristin. "Miss Chenoweth, though there is no chaperone here in old San Francisco, and you would be putting your life into your hands, would you care to have a drink with me? The view of the city is marvelous."
"Can we see Alcatraz from your window?"
"Come and find out."
Kristin took the first step up toward the brownstone. "Why thank you, I believe I will."
Idina laughed, and had to hold down her arm to keep herself from smacking Kristin's ass as she followed her up the stairs.
* * *
Idina entered her room and tossed her bag on the couch. She went to the mini-bar. "Brandy? Scotch? Cordial? I have some bottled spring water."
Kristin stood just inside the doorway. She said, "Don't say anything, Idina."
"Why?"
Kristin walked toward her, and Idina turned to face her, a one ounce bottle of Puerto Rican rum in her hand. Kristin said, "Because you'll ruin it."
Idina stuck her tongue out.
Kristin folded her arms.
Idina set down the miniature bottle. She stared at it, and tried to gather her thoughts. A weight settled in her chest, squeezing her heart. She felt light-headed, too, and tried to pinpoint just what she was afraid of. It was only Kristin, standing in her hotel room, like she had last week, and the week before...
Kristin's footsteps clicked on the linoleum, and then became soft thuds on carpet. "Idina."
"I don't know--"
Kristin put her fingers over Idina's lips. Her lips curled, but she wasn't quite smiling. She was studying Idina with intense concentration. Idina helplessly watched as her lips moved. "It has to happen sometime, Idina."
"Why? Because everyone thinks it already is? Because the play is about two women and... Why?"
"Because I want it. Don't you?" Kristin's voice faltered. Her eyes were wide and focused on Idina's, so Idina could see the hesitation mixed desire. The look that captured her attention in the first place, when they were friends of friends.
"I do," she said.
Kristin smiled fully and stepped right up to Idina. "Don't ruin it," she said. "Trust me."
Idina tried to hold herself perfectly still, but she had to bend down when Kristin slid her arms around her neck and tugged. She opened her mouth to ask Kristin what she was doing but Kristin kissed her. Idina sagged. She let herself melt against Kristin's lips. Her eyes closed, blocking out the rest of the world. Just Kristin's mouth, moving sensually against hers, until she felt Kristin's tongue brush the edge of her lip, lighting her on fire...
Kristin drew back, and kissed the corner of her mouth.
"Stay," breathed Idina, keeping her eyes closed.
Kristin's touch left her. Kristin said, "I can't stay. I... I shouldn't. Once is enough. Right?"
"Once is never enough. Wait, Kris--" Idina reached out to grab her arm, to stop her, but her hand grasped empty air. She opened her eyes and Kristin was already at the foyer, grabbing her purse. "Please," Idina said.
"The show, Idina. Like you said... You've wanted this your whole life. We're so close."
Idina shook her head, and said, "This has been the perfect day. The most perfect day. Why can't we have the most perfect ending? The storybook ending. The trashy pulp paperback ending. The Biblical ending, Kristin."
She crossed the room. Kristin's hand was already on the doorknob.
"This isn't a play. This is life. Life is... hard," Kristin said.
"There's a reason I went into acting."
Kristin touched Idina's jaw. "You were born to do it."
Idina jerked her head away.
"This isn't a now or never proposition, Idina. We'll see each other tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after. You're exhausted."
"Don't patronize me." Idina imagined what Kristin would look like on stage, wearing sweatpants, her hair covered by a handkerchief, trying to act like she hadn't slept with her co-star. Keeping secrets, but the shame of them becoming visible on her face. Every day. Idina sighed. "Fuck."
Kristin chuckled, and said, "I'll see you tomorrow, Idina."
"Can I take you home?"
"No, but you can kiss me goodnight," said Kristin.
Idina nodded. "I can do that."
Kristin flung open the door, and leaned against the doorstop. She batted her eyelashes. Idina came and cupped her face in her hands. Kristin sighed. Idina kissed her cheek first, and said, "How long will one goodnight kiss last me? Until I see you in the morning? A lifetime?"
"Idina," Kristin whimpered. She lifted herself to press her lips to Idina's, seizing a kiss that became a clash of lips. Hard pressure and heat and no yielding from either of them. If Kristin melted into Idina's kiss, she wouldn't leave tonight. Idina held back, for Kristin's sake, and felt Kristin holding back for her. She wanted to tell Kristin how it broke her heart, but she didn't want Kristin's heart to break at all.
Kristin dropped her face, and Idina kissed her forehead. Kristin's breath blew hot against her neck. Idina shivered.
"I'm going to go now," said Kristin.
"Okay."
Kristin slipped away from her body, and walked into the hallway. She smiled at Idina from beyond the threshold. "I love you," she said.
Idina swallowed and closed the door. Nine hours. She couldn't go nine minutes. Her eyes filled with tears. She walked blindly toward the kitchenette. The phone rang. The shrill sound hurt her ears. She scrambled for the receiver and pressed it to her cheek.
"Taye?"
"Hi, baby. What's it like at 10 o'clock in San Francisco?"
"It's only 10?"
"It's one here," he said. His voice, throaty and rich, melted over her. She missed his singing. She wanted his hug. She gasped into the phone. "Are you crying?" he asked.
"I was with the famous Kristin Chenoweth," she said.
"It's only 10," he said.
"That's why I'm crying."
He laughed. He laughed so big and loud that she had to laugh with him, sinking onto the linoleum floor and cradling the phone in her hands.
"Women," he said.
Idina asked, "Why would you want more than one?"
"She's got bigger tits," he said.
"Fuck you."
"And a better voice," he said.
She slammed the receiver on the floor, hitting it repeatedly, hoping the sound would smash his skull. Then she laughed, and he laughed with her, until she cried. Her husband, three thousand miles away, was closer to her than the woman downstairs stepping into a cab. This was marriage, she thought. This was love. And this was never going to last. She picked up the phone, and said into it, "I'm very stupid."
"That's my baby."
* * *
DAY TWO
* * *
Idina sat on the edge of the table. Behind her was a spread of catered food, mostly donuts and pastries, with a sad platter of honeydew and cereal boxes. Before her was the curtain and the stage. Dancers were lined up. A piano was playing somewhere, but the dancers stood still.
She took a sip of coffee and watched the non-action. The coffee was cold, but then she'd been late, spending too much time in the shower. Too much time thinking. She declared herself done thinking for the morning. It was time to throw herself into her work. She took another sip. Kristin passed by the curtain, wearing sweatpants, as predicted. Her hair was up in a bun, though, and uncovered. A chopstick stuck through the rolled hair.
A chopstick.
Idina swallowed off the last of her coffee.
Joe walked across the stage, his director's bible tucked under his arm. "Where's my star!"
Kristin giggled and pointed.
Idina rolled her eyes at Kristin and pushed herself off the table. She walked to center stage.
Joe said, "Good. Now, ladies, I've given up on teaching you to dance. I really don't know who hired you. But you can just stand today. Can you practice standing?"
Idina struck a pose.
Kristin dragged V-fingers across her eyes.
He shook his head. "Right. Lighting, today. We'll be coordinating the system. Computers. Starting with the meeting at Shiz. Listen to your lighting director." He wandered off stage.
Idina took her mark as indicated, and winked at Kristin. "He seems cranky."
"Computers," said Kristin.
"Right."
"Okay, gals," said the lighting assistant. He raised his hands and framed them. "Now... Stand."
Idina stood.
Kristin slouched.
Idina rubbed her chin, and asked, "Don't we have stand-ins?"
"We're in theater."
"Right."
Kristin frowned. "But we have understudies."
"They're watching us... Taking notes. Learning how to stand."
Kristin laughed. She doubled over, and reached out to steady herself on Idina's arm.
Idina snickered. She met Kristin's eyes, and said, "I'm so grateful it's not--"
"Kris? Dee?" The lighting director called from the lighting booth. "Could you stand closer?"
"--Awkward," Idina finished.
Kristin swallowed. The casual distance between them, that careful morning-after dance, had been violated by the characters' love story. Idina wondered how Elphaba and Glinda could stand so close, if she and Kristin couldn't.
The assistant director, standing in the wings, grinned, and called out, "Height issues."
Kristin snorted. She winked at Idina.
Idina laughed. "Okay. Climb on."
Kristin stepped next to her. Idina settled her arms onto Kristin's shoulders, and looked casually over her head.
"You have to sing to me," Kristin said.
"I'll sing right into your ear."
Kristin wrapped her arms around Idina's waist.
"There you go," the director said. "Pretend you're lovers. Some service for the audience."
Kristin froze.
Idina stared at the wings.
"Still awkward," said Kristin. "And I'm out of jokes."
"Yeah. I almost wish... We'd never kissed."
"Maybe we can pretend we didn't."
Idina rested her chin on the top of Kristin's head. "You know what? I cant pretend."
"Yeah?"
"And you said you didn't want to wonder," said Idina, shrugging.
"I didn't. I mean, I don't want to wonder. About anything. So the best solution..." Kristin's voice trailed off.
"We're going to kiss again," declared Idina.
"When?"
The two spotlights whirled over the stage and settled on them, casting white light from two angles, leaving them without shadow. Idina drew back to smile. "Now?"
"To Dear Old Shiz? It's not the right song."
"Okay."
"Kris," came the director's voice over the speaker system. "Take your mark for the next scene, please."
Kristin gave Idina's back a pat, and said, "Later, Dee."
Idina gripped Kristin's shoulders. She leaned down and whispered in Kristin's ear, "It's not awkward anymore."
"You just stare at me from across the stage," said Kristin. "Stare at me and think."
Idina tossed her hair over her shoulder.
* * *
Lighting and standing around, Idina decided, made the day seem longer than dancing. She was exhausted and felt frustrated that she hadn't done anything. Wasted, nervous energy made her pace in tiny circles on the stage. She imagined herself wearing down the floor and falling through it.
Kristin caught her eye. Idina grinned and scuffed the stage with the toe of her sneaker. Kristin raised an eyebrow. Idina threw up her hands, and mouthed, "I'm melting," as she sank dramatically to the floor. Kristin let out a yelp of laughter. She clamped her hands over her mouth. Idina winked. Kristin snickered.
The director took center stage. "Great," he said. "My stars think they're in Oz. All right. We've broken for tea and we've broken for dinner. I think we'll break for the night. Imagine what it'll be like to go on at seven instead of going home at seven."
He clapped his hands and the dancers left the stage. Idina blinked. Kristin froze. Idina slowly got to her feet. "Drink?" She mouthed.
Kristin nodded. She walked toward Idina, to exit on the far end of the stage, and said, "I'm going to go shower."
Idina pivoted to watch her go. Retreating, in a cut-off tee shirt that revealed her lower back, and old sweatpants that hugged her hips, Kristin was a sight to behold. Even though her hair was limp with sweat and she no longer smelled like chamomile and rose body wash, Idina desired her. A longing stirred in her stomach, and lower. She blushed.
Thinking about Kristin this way, when she had to spend every night with her on stage, every day holding her and pretending to be in love with her... Kismet, maybe.
The pounding between her legs that matched the pounding in her heart scared her. She knew stars slept with their co-stars as a matter of course. Hadn't she, with Taye, anyway? She'd never seen herself like that. Flighty did not look good on a resume, even a theatre resume. Dedicated. Hard-working. Doesn't cause trouble. Those were the phrases she wanted to live by.
But she wanted to cause trouble now.
* * *
Kristin came out of the bathroom, wearing jeans and a Hard Rock Cafe - San Francisco tee shirt. The jeans were skin-tight, but cut-off and frayed at the ankles. Kristin had told Idina that they had once been bell-bottoms. The shirt, too, had been cut, leaving Kristin's belly exposed. Girl liked to be fashionable. "The fabric breathes," Kristin said.
"Funny, most things don't after you slash them," said Idina.
"Morbid."
"They're your pants."
Kristin only came up to Idina's chest, but her presence filled a whole room. "What are you looking at, sailor?" She asked as she lowered her towel and placed her hand on Idina's abdomen.
"I..."
"You're rarely speechless, Idina," teased Kristin.
"Put a camera in front of me, I'll be fine."
"No cameras here," Kristin said. She slid her arm around Idina's waist. Her fingers worked underneath Idina's sweatshirt to caress her lower back. Idina felt herself warming at Kristin's touch. She swallowed and felt heady. Kristin's hair smelled like soap. She tried to breathe deeply, to find safer air, but Kristin's scent was everywhere, intoxicating her.
"You're absolutely beautiful," said Kristin. She reached up with her free hand and touched Idina's jaw. Idina quivered. Her nostrils flared with each breath. Kristin nudged her cheek. Idina dipped and kissed her. Their lips met.
Kristin's felt warm and yielding. Idina pushed the touch deeper, slipping her tongue into Kristin's mouth. Kristin would have to stop her, have to break the kiss, because Idina was done controlling her own desire. Her heart pounded in her ears. Kristin's mouth pressed harder. Kristin's tongue sought hers, following it into Idina's own mouth. When Kristin pulled her closer, squeezing her back, Idina moaned. She nearly toppled forward. Her knees weakly buckled.
Despite the sweetness of Kristin's lips, Idina twisted away. She gasped. "Kristin," she said.
Kristin gave her most cherubic smile.
Idina laughed.
Kristin said, "I like to let a girl know where she stands."
"Thanks."
Idina threw herself into an overstuffed chair. Arousal pounded between her legs. She tried to slow her pulse. Kristin straddled her waist, kneeling on the chair. For once, her head was above Idina's. She held onto Idina's shoulders. Idina felt flush.
Kristin ran her fingers through Idina's hair. Idina purred. She lifted her chin and kissed Kristin. A quick, fluttering press of her mouth before she settled back again. Kristin stroked her ear. "We should kiss before every show."
"And before every curtain call, and in every doorway..."
"Exactly." Kristin lowered her lips to Idina's. Their kiss became two... then three... Kristin's mouth traveled across Idina's jaw, suckled her neck, grazed her ear, and then found her lips again. She made keening noises, let out little gasps, a counterpoint to Idina's low moaning.
Idina's hands wandered. She stroked between Kristin's shoulder blades, through the thin tee shirt, over tight straps that bit into Kristin's skin. The shirt was damp, and sensations coming through Idina's fingers reinforced Kristin's moist mouth. She imagined where else Kristin was wet, and dared let her hands travel across Kristin's ass, squeezing and lifting her closer.
"Idina," Kristin crooned into her ear, before biting her earlobe.
"Kris..."
A pounding came at the door. Norbert's voice said, "Stop making out in there. Pizza time!"
Kristin sank into Idina's lap. She said, quietly, "We don't have to..."
Idina's stomach growled.
"...but maybe we should," Kristin said. She patted Idina's stomach.
Idina chuckled. She held Kristin, who squirmed against her, and called out, "What are we watching?"
"Evita!"
Kristin groaned.
"You know you love it," said Idina. She shoved at Kristin's hips.
Kristin obligingly stood up. She offered Idina her hand. "Another suitcase in another hall?"
"Madonna is our leader," Norbert called through the door.
"Fine, fine, we're coming," Idina said. "You don't have to torture us."
Kristin pulled Idina through the door. Norbert was there to lean in to kiss Idina's cheek. "We got pesto and pineapple, just for you," he said.
Idina rolled her head back onto Norbert's shoulder. "Kosher pizza?"
Kristin poked her stomach.
Idina laughed. She turned around, looping one arm around Norbert's neck. Kristin pressed against her back. Idina sang, "I never dreamed that a kiss could be as sweet as this."
"God, they're dancing," came a voice from down the hall. "The food's going to get cold."
Idina squeezed Kristin's fingers.
* * *
At 9 o'clock, Idina lay on a worn couch in the lounge, overstuffed with pizza. Kristin sat on the arm of the couch, one foot next to Idina's calf. She dabbed at her eyes. She'd been teased when she'd cried during the opening credits, but by now most of the crew had left for the late-night shift, and the remaining actors had pizza coma, so Kristin cried unmolested.
Norbert clambered to his feet and turned off the television, letting the DVD run to its conclusion. He gathered up the last pizza box. "Leftovers?"
"I never want to see pizza again," said Kristin.
Idina groaned.
Norbert grinned. "Later, gals."
Idina lifted a limp hand as he left. Kristin slid off the arm of the couch and onto Idina. Idina grunted. Kristin sighed and tucked her head into Idina's shoulder. She asked, "What time is it?"
"Uh..." Idina raised her wrist above Kristin's back. "Nine o'clock."
Kristin groaned. "When did I become my parents?" she mumbled into Idina's shirt.
"Maybe when you turned 30?"
Kristin bit Idina's shoulder.
"Ow! Geez."
Kristin sighed. Idina lazily rubbed her back.
"I don't want to leave you yet," said Kristin sleepily.
"Then come home with me."
"There's no way I can..."
"Just to sleep," said Idina.
"We could sleep here."
"And have."
"Yeah..."
Idina hugged Kristin. She stroked Kristin's hair, working through the strands with her fingers. She said, "We have to sing tomorrow."
"Do you have lemon tea at home?"
"Three varieties."
"Did you ever want to sing opera?"
"No way."
Kristin laughed. She rolled off of Idina and landed ungracefully on the floor. "Take me away from all this," she said.
"A night at the theater, my darling?"
Kristin slapped Idina's thigh.
Idina and Kristin walked hand in hand to the street. Downtown San Francisco at night, while the plays were in their second act, was quiet. Traffic passed by them. Fewer horns honked than in New York. Idina turned to look at the theatre. "Phantom played here," she said.
"Is that a good omen?" Kristin leaned into her arm.
"Mm, if we're looking for omens... The Curran was built by a Jewish man. I'll let you latch onto my karma. It was about fifteen years after the earthquake destroyed the city."
"I remember Steve's speech. Hard to imagine," said Kristin. "The building's so old. As if it's been here forever."
Idina grinned. "To a long and prosperous run, then."
Kristin squeezed her fingers, so tightly Idina winced. She pivoted toward Kristin, struggling not to let go of Kristin's hand, or yelp. "What is it?"
Kristin let her go. "Sorry. I was thinking of the 1906 fire. Earthquake. And how--and how much it hurt to breathe in New York. For months."
"Hey..."
"And how I went to Hollywood, and played bit parts and put on concerts and turned down roles so I wouldn't have to go back to New York. Even though I love it so much. And I hate to be frightened by anything."
Idina pulled Kristin forward and embraced her. "Don't cry, Kristin. Please."
"I can't help it. It's in my nature," said Kristin, laughing against Idina's chest.
Idina said, "I'm going to take you to Broadway. You're going to be a star."
Kristin squeezed her tightly, and wept.
* * *
Idina entered Kristin's apartment and set down her backpack. She'd been here enough times that some of her clothes were neatly folded in Kristin's drawer. Over two years they'd sat on the bed drinking hot cocoa and playing Parcheesi and rehearsing lines, before flying off to "real" jobs.
They'd never made love, or even kissed back then, but Idina had once woken up with Kristin's hand on her stomach, and she knew Kristin's smell as well as she knew the lumps of the bed.
"Shower," said Kristin, going to the kitchenette.
Idina narrowed her eyes.
"You smell like pizza."
Idina went into the bathroom. She glanced behind her before shutting the door, where Kristin was unwrapping a Hershey's kiss. Idina had to stock Kristin's pantry with tea and miso. The familiar accents of Kristin's home were as much her own as Kristin's.
She wondered, with the shower spray cascading down her back, when they had started living in each other's lives. Wicked's fate was tied into theirs, but she couldn't reason out whether success or failure would be better.
Kristin had tossed a pair of drawstring pants into the bathroom while the water was running, so Idina got dressed before opening the door. The cool, air-conditioned air hit her skin. She left the door open to air out the bathroom. Kristin was already in bed, sitting against the headboard, wearing glasses. She had a magazine open on her lap.
Idina padded to the bed, but hesitated before drawing back the covers. The mere act of touching the sheets made arousal surge through her. She wasn't sure she could do this, if it wasn't innocent. "What are you reading?" she asked. Her voice cracked on are and she blushed.
Kristin had the good grace not to look up. "Parade," she said. "The gossip page."
Idina laughed. "Parade?"
"Hey." Kristin peered at Idina over her glasses. "I read the Times this morning over breakfast. I know more about the new California transportation bill than most people actually voting."
Idina slid into bed, pushing her feet into the covers. "I have People at home."
Kristin folded her magazine. She scooted closer to Idina, and settled against her shoulder. "What would Angelina Jolie be doing right now?"
"Besides the obvious?"
"Do you want to talk about the obvious?" Kristin ran her hand down Idina's thigh, over the blanket.
"Ah..."
Kristin let go and pulled off her glasses. She folded them neatly and set them beside the clock radio. Idina shifted lower into bed. She grabbed her favorite pillow from Kristin's stack and pressed her face into it. Kristin's hand touched her back. "Dee?"
"Mm."
Kristin's hand rubbed in slow circles. Idina let out a long, contented sigh. She rolled over, and tugged Kristin on top of her. Kristin laughed.
Idina pushed unruly hair from Kristin's face, and asked, "How many tattoos does Angelina Jolie have?"
"I don't remember," said Kristin. She tried to lower herself to Idina, but Idina pressed against her shoulders, holding her up. Kristin settled for rubbing her nose against the tip of Idina's.
"How many tattoos do you have?"
"Very funny," said Kristin. The cross hanging from her neck brushed Idina's chest. Idina lowered her arms. Kristin sank into her, and let her mouth fall onto Idina's to crush her with kisses. Idina held her close. Kristin's body covered hers, the blanket and sheets tangled around them. Kristin, heavy and warm, was kissing her and kissing her and kissing her.
"Idina?"
Idina felt a sharp pain against her ribs. There was no longer any pressure on her mouth. She could move her lips, and said, "What?"
"You fell asleep."
"I did not."
"While kissing me."
"I would never."
Kristin rested her cheek on Idina's chest. Idina exhaled. "Goodnight, Idina," said Kristin.
"Night..." Idina closed her eyes. She said, "Kris?"
"Yeah..."
"I love you, too."
* * *
DAY THREE
* * *
Idina woke before the alarm. She untangled herself from Kristin's arms around her stomach--How could someone sleep like that?--and stumbled to the bathroom. Sunlight came through the small window over the toilet. She grunted blindly.
When she'd washed her hands and brushed her teeth, she peered around the door. Kristin slept in the same position. Her hands were folded where Idina had been. Idina crept closer to the bed. Kristin seemed small, swallowed up by her own sheets. Without makeup and under the bright sunlight, her skin showed faint lines and creases. Her face was worn without the porcelain airbrushing, and Idina wanted to tease her about sun damage in Oklahoma. Kristin seemed so much younger than she did on stage, with no costume, no voice, no blue eyes showing.
Idina brushed hair out of Kristin's face, and then raised the blankets up to Kristin's shoulders. Kristin squirmed and mumbled, "Hot." Idina pulled the blankets off, and left them dangling over the side of the bed. Kristin rolled onto her stomach. Idina went to make coffee.
She liked the ritual of pouring fragrant coffee beans, a gift from Norbert, into the electronic grinder, pressing go and watching them spin, and then pouring them, like she was panning for gold, into the top of the espresso machine. "Café al lait?" she called to Kristin, who had her head covered with a pillow. Kristin grunted.
Idina grinned and opened the refrigerator for milk. She squinted. "Don't you have any soy?"
Kristin grunted.
Idina sighed. She set up the steamer. The mugs were above the stove--despite her equipment, Kristin usually showed up at the theatre with Starbucks--Idina pulled down and rinsed two.
She got dressed before she brought coffee to Kristin. The last clean clothes she had in Kristin's dresser drawer. Leggings and a sweater--dance clothes. She wanted to hum Flashdance, but it was too upbeat for lips that hadn't had coffee, so she settled for a lullaby that Taye used to sing to her while they danced on the beach.
Kristin flopped onto her side, and reached out for the mug.
"Oh, the possum awakens for coffee."
Kristin narrowed her eyes. Idina handed her the café al lait. Kristin drank slowly, wincing at the heat but not stopping until she had finished a quarter of the mug. She handed it back to Idina and fell onto her back.
Idina set the mug on the dresser, and took a sip of her own coffee.
"What are you drinking?"
"Americano."
Kristin blanched.
Idina stuck her tongue out, and took another sip.
Kristin said, "We're late for work."
"I know. What will people think?"
"For once, probably the truth," said Kristin.
Idina grinned. She put her mug on the dresser and leaned over Kristin. "You've got a milk mustache."
"Dear me," said Kristin. She wrapped her arms around Idina's neck. "If only some tall, dark stranger would rescue me from embarrassment."
Idina kissed her. She brushed the milky froth from Kristin's lips, and then tugged one lip between her teeth and suckled. Kristin moaned and pressed against her mouth. Though she tasted like bitter coffee and sleep, Idina kissed her until she lost her balance and toppled forward. Kristin hugged her shoulders and laughed against her ear. "Good morning."
"Morning." Idina kissed the side of Kristin's face.
"I need to brush my teeth," said Kristin. "You're on top of me."
"Can't move."
"Okay," said Kristin. She held Idina tightly. Idina nuzzled her ear. She listened to Kristin's breathing, the slow inhale and exhale that pressed against her chest. Kristin's hands slid down her back, and Idina shifted closer. Then Kristin's hand grabbed her ass.
"Kristin!"
Kristin's knee came up between Idina's legs. "We should stay in bed," she said.
"We'll be late," said Idina, though she wanted to press into Kristin's leg. Already she was throbbing and ready, just from one touch, and couldn't resist kissing Kristin's neck, making her arousal known. Her nipples hardened. She arched into Kristin.
"I don't think you care," said Kristin, purring into her ear, stroking her hair, stroking her ass, and Idina was trying very hard not to care. She felt warm and wet and languid and on fire, and she just wanted to touch Kristin until she became calm again. Kristin's hand slid under her shirt, and nails grazed her spine.
Idina arched into a crouching position. "Crap. This is not how I imagined..."
"You imagined it?"
Idina closed her eyes. Since she was on her knees, Kristin slid her hands around to the front, over her bare abdomen. Idina swallowed, and let herself wallow in the electric touch. Then Kristin reached her waistband, and Idina rocked off the bed. "Hey, cold shower."
Kristin rolled onto her side, and stared at Idina. Tousled and tangled in the bedsheets, she half-vamped at Idina, with her blue eyes narrowed and her lips parted. Idina wondered how she'd ever gotten out of bed.
The phone rang.
"We're late," Idina said.
Kristin sat up, with her legs dangling off the edge of the bed, and reached for her coffee. Idina went into the bathroom to deal with her hair. When she came out, Kristin met her at the doorway. "I was watching you in the bathroom..." said Kristin.
Idina arched an eyebrow.
"Watching you pull back your hair... Watching you apply mascara... You went from beautiful to elegant. From approachable to... glamorous. You have no idea, Idina, what it's like just to look at your cheekbones. To want to run my fingers over your eyebrows and look into your eyes..."
Idina swallowed.
Kristin said, "I don't think I can wait all day. It's too long. Too many minutes will tick by." She stepped closer.
Idina backed away, sliding past her to walk into the open space of the living room. She turned and folded her arms. "Oh, no. Not Miss-Kiss-Me-Once. This is what it's like. The waiting in agony. I'm not that easy."
Kristin moved closer and slid her arms around Idina's waist. "Come on. Give in. For me. We're already late."
Idina squirmed away. "You'll have to try harder than that. I've got to go. The theatre needs me. The show must go on!" Idina laughed and darted through the door.
Kristin threw up her hands. "We're not even going to share a cab? It's my apartment!"
Idina had a cab waiting for her when she descended a minute later, having put up her hair and found her dance bag. She slid into the old seat, smiled when the cab driver's eyes lit up at the mention of the Curran, and peered out the window. Idina slid against her, so that half the back seat of the cab was empty.
"Just so you know," said Idina, against Kristin's ear. Kristin kept her eyes focused on the Golden Gate Bridge beyond the window, but she grasped behind her, to let Idina know she was listening. Idina took her hand, and said, "I want to make love to you."
Kristin's jaw worked, but she didn't say anything.
Idina kissed her cheek. "Today."
Kristin closed her eyes.
* * *
Idina slammed the dressing room door closed and sagged against it. All morning she'd watched Kristin dance. Arches and spins and touches making Kristin's body move in ways that Idina wanted to feel. How she had gone weeks without noticing Kristin like this, she wasn't sure, but she almost wanted that time back, that time before her hormones raged and she couldn't concentrate.
Thankfully, they hadn't been singing. Idina couldn't imagine following the stage direction. "Now hold Kristin's hand. Now look into her eyes and pretend that you love her. Now sing. Sing." Not with her mouth this dry, Idina thought. Not with her heart pounding in her ears and blocking out the music.
She'd thought that the mistakes would come to hurt her later. The break-up and the anguish and having to touch Kristin when she'd rather be a planet away, having to smile at Kristin when she wanted to cry, having to share a tiny dressing room with a gulf between them.
But no, the agony had started early. Idina's whole body had been on fire all morning. She debated between a cold shower and masturbation to put it out, so that she could function. Maybe masturbating in the shower... It wouldn't be the first time.
A knock came at the door.
"Let me in, Idina," Kristin called through the door while jiggling the handle.
"Just a minute," Idina said.
She pushed away from the door and straightened her clothes and primped her hair.
"What are you doing? Are you doing what I think you're doing?"
Idina blushed. She flung open the door. "No."
"You're quite the spitfire," Kristin drawled, looking up at her with such an expression of lust Idina almost slammed the door again.
"I think... we opened Pandora's Box," said Idina.
"Only one thing to do."
"What's that?"
Kristin pushed her way into the room, and shut the door. "Open it again."
Idina let Kristin guide her down onto the couch, and then Kristin was kissing her, and her hands were sliding over Idina's front, squeezing her breasts, pushing her stomach. Idina's ear was pinned against a CD case. She knew a sewing kit was somewhere near her hand. She gasped when Kristin's tongue left her mouth. "This isn't... romantic," she said.
"Who said it had to be romantic," said Kristin. She covered Idina's eyes with the tips of her fingers, and lightly brushed her lips with a kiss. "It's hot. It's urgent. It's need and desire and carnal and holy and--"
"Love. I want it to be love," said Idina. She covered Kristin's hands and pulled them down to her mouth, to kiss her palms.
Kristin cupped her cheeks. "It's love." She kissed Idina. Idina cradled her head, letting Kristin explore her lips. She slid her tongue over Kristin's, and Kristin suckled her, kissed her lips, her cheeks, her eyebrows, and then her mouth again, hard and passionate and without breath.
Idina struggled into a more comfortable position, and found her head hanging over the side of the couch, with Kristin straddling her hips. "Um..." said Idina.
Kristin peered down at her.
"Maybe we should do this on the floor?"
"I am not making love to you on the floor of your dressing room, Idina Menzel."
The blood was rushing to Idina's head. She tried to lift it, but it felt heavy on her neck. She sighed. "We could just... wait."
Kristin slid off of her, kneeling next to the couch, and Idina scrambled into a sitting position. Kristin pushed up her shirt and kissed her stomach.
"No waiting," said Idina.
Kristin kissed her thigh, through her leggings. Idina's stomach growled. "No waiting!" She got the words out as Kristin was lifting her head to smirk. Idina took Kristin's face in her hands. "Is this a good idea?"
Kristin shook her head.
Idina leaned forward and covered Kristin's mouth with hers. She held Kristin's chin, and their lips stayed together, until Kristin, guiding her tee shirt upward, had to break the kiss to pull it over her head. Idina slid her hands down Kristin's bare arms. She dared to glance at Kristin's breasts, held demurely by white cups and underwire. Kristin twisted her hands behind her back, and unclasped her bra. Her breasts fell forward, freed. Idina glanced at Kristin's face.
Kristin smirked.
"Stand up," said Idina. She'd seen Kristin naked a hundred times, but never for her, never so that she could stare, as much as she wanted. Kristin stood, taking Idina's hand and drawing it to her hip. Idina squeezed. Kristin had put on worn jeans that morning, and Idina could feel the muscles of her thigh shift under her fingers, and the heat of her skin through the fabric.
Kristin's hands went to her zipper. She undid the top button and looked at Idina expectantly, but Idina made no move to stop her. "I'm not a girl who does this," Kristin said, and Idina tried not to think if that were true, if Kristin had someone in every green room, if Kristin had ever said the same line to a producer. She leaned back, letting go of Kristin's jeans.
"I love you," she said, and Kristin's expression softened. She lowered her zipper. Idina heard the teeth click and was glad Kristin had the dexterity to undress, because she wasn't sure if she could ever move again.
Kristin pushed off her jeans, taking her panties with them. If Idina had known Kristin was wearing a thong, she never would have left the apartment that morning. Kristin straddled her hips. Her bare abdomen pressed into Idina's breasts. Her arms rested on Idina's shoulders. Idina smiled up at her. Kristin tapped her nose. "Say it again."
Idina wrapped her arms around Kristin's waist. Bare skin felt so much better against her hands. "Say what again?" She asked, stroking Kristin's lower back.
"Say... that you love me," said Kristin. She tucked a strand of hair behind Idina's ear.
"Why? Didn't you believe me?"
"Idina..."
Idina kissed Kristin's chest, between her breasts.
Kristin gasped. "Idina."
Idina kissed the side of Kristin's breast. Kristin grabbed her hair. She gasped, but didn't speak, so Idina kissed a slow trail to Kristin's nipple. With Kristin's nails against her scalp, she opened her mouth and took in the tip of Kristin's breast. Kristin moaned. Idina suckled. Kristin held her head, and when her nipple was hard in Idina's mouth, she guided Idina to her other breast. Idina filled her mouth with it. Her hand traveled to Kristin's thigh. She found Kristin's skin slick with wetness. When she moved higher, Kristin pulled away from her mouth and grabbed her wrist.
"Kristin?"
"I can't keep standing," said Kristin, and blushed. Idina stood and guided Kristin onto the couch. She knelt between Kristin's legs. Kristin put her head on the back of the couch and closed her eyes.
"I want to make love to you," said Idina.
"God..."
Idina kissed Kristin's inner thigh. Kristin moaned. "Quiet," said Idina. "Do you want everyone to hear you?" She urged Kristin's legs apart.
Kristin moaned louder. She said, "I want everyone to hear me."
Goaded, Idina buried her face between Kristin's legs. She kissed Kristin's patch of blonde curls, neatly trimmed--she knew Kristin never waxed--and then kissed lower, letting her tongue part wet folds. Kristin's clitoris was against her tongue before she really realized what she was doing. Making love to Kristin Chenoweth. Sucking her in a dressing room at the Curran Theatre, downtown San Francisco. She drew back long enough to say, "You're a beautiful woman."
Kristin still had her eyes closed. She was gloriously naked, her arms spread along the couch, her right leg propped on Idina's shoulder. She said, "I'm a woman who knows what she wants."
"What's that?"
"You."
Idina drummed her fingers along the inside of Kristin's thigh. Kristin's eyes opened. She squinted down at Idina. Idina slid her hand along over Kristin's center. The tip of her middle finger slipped inside.
"More," said Kristin.
Idina pushed into her, watching her finger disappear. Kristin was tight. So tight and wet, squeezing her finger. She'd never thought of being inside Kristin. Kissing her, loving her, tasting her, sure, but entering her was an act of intimacy beyond her. Her hand shook. Kristin reached down to cover her fingers, and press them into herself. The caress was delicate, and Kristin met her eyes. "Please."
She added a second finger, penetrating Kristin, moving slowly, so that Kristin could shift on the couch and accommodate her. Kristin had barely touched her head with her free hand when Idina kissed her again, letting her cheeks get coated in Kristin's wetness. Kristin tasted almost sweet in her mouth, with a sharp tang as Idina sucked at her skin, and then licked. She circled the rim where her fingers disappeared, and then upward, along the sides of Kristin's distended clit, flicking hard. She repeated, lapping with a rough, pointed tongue, until Kristin said, "There. There, Idina."
There, she licked, and let her teeth graze and her thumb stroke. There was Kristin, exposed to her, open, the part of Kristin she'd sought since meeting her, now against her mouth, and Kristin didn't cry out, didn't scream, just whimpered. She shook, and the shaking jarred Idina's head but she stayed close, until Kristin's whimpering subsided to heaving breath, and Kristin's fingers loosened their grip in her hair.
She smiled when Idina lifted her head. Idina said, "That was the first time I'm going to do that..."
Kristin's smile grew wider.
"...Today."
"Idina?"
"Hm?"
Kristin sat up, pushing Idina back, and gripping her shoulders. "Would you please take off your clothes?"
Idina stood. Her knees were weak and she wobbled. Kristin reached out to steady her, laughing. "Overwhelmed, Idina?"
"You have no idea." She pulled her shirt over her head, and quickly followed with her sports bra. Her leggings were kicked off without fanfare. Taye would comment on her lack of grace if he were watching. She tried not to think of him watching, not with Kristin. Kristin was her own world.
Kristin stood, pressing against her, naked skin to naked skin for the first time. Idina could feel Kristin's heart beating against her. A little too rapid. Kristin's breath was a little too shallow.
"You're too tall," Kristin said. She took Idina's shoulders. "Too tall for me to kiss you."
Idina sank to the ground, and let Kristin push her backwards. "I thought you said no floor?"
"That was for me," said Kristin.
"It smells like 80-year-old carpet."
"You can shower."
"But--"
Kristin cupped Idina's center, and squeezed gently. "Are you going to keep complaining?"
Idina shook her head.
Kristin leaned down and kissed her. Idina opened her mouth to Kristin's kisses. Kristin's hand moved against her, touching her where she'd only touched herself the last several months, and in ways she hadn't dreamed of.
"Inside," Idina begged, because Kristin's fingers stroking her clit like that would make her come too soon to enjoy it, too soon to let the moment sink in. Kristin entered her, and Idina moaned, surprised at how different a woman's slender fingers felt from a man's, and then Kristin's fingers, slipping in and out of her, obliterated the comparisons from her mind. Only Kristin, moving on top of her, her tongue inside her mouth, and the hard floor, unyielding, underneath her shoulder blades. "Kristin," she said, to stop Kristin's hand.
"Hm?"
"I want to be on top," Idina said, because regardless of Kristin's answer, she was about to orgasm, so she might as well go for broke.
"You would," said Kristin.
Idina grunted. She thrust her hips against Kristin's still hand, uncaring that she was reduced to a humping animal.
"Go ahead," said Kristin.
Idina rolled, careful to move away from the couch as not to get Kristin wedged, and then Kristin was on her back near the door, and Idina was on top of her, sinking into her, and Kristin's hand was still there, touching her. Idina's lips had hardly settled on Kristin's neck when she came, jerking against Kristin's fingers, moaning into Kristin's ear. "Fuck," she said, when she could speak. Being with Kristin on the floor of her dressing room seemed to warrant it.
Kristin hugged Idina's neck. Idina felt the heat in her loins, and listened to Kristin's strangely erotic breathing, and discovered that making love to Kristin in the middle of the day was not a good way to soothe her desire.
Maybe if she did it twice.
* * *
Kristin sat on a protruding piece of the clock. The spotlights were trained on her, so that if Idina looked in any other direction, she'd be blinded by white light. "I forgot what working on a stage was like. I can't see anything," she complained.
"Then listen to my voice," said Kristin, smiling.
"Kristin, do you think... We'll wreck the show?"
Kristin offered her a hand. Idina took it, and Kristin spoke to her. "This is how I'm deluding myself. The uncertainty, the unknowing, the passion... It could only help. It's an uncertain love story. The show could bomb, Idina. We might never see each other again. And then what will we have lost?"
Idina squeezed her fingers. "We won't 'never see each other again.' There will be Tony Awards and banquets and running into each other on Good Morning America and on the street. Casual meetings and eye contact and knowing exactly what we had."
"I've known you a long time," said Kristin.
"That won't change."
"Everything changes. Even memories."
"Well, Kristin... We've already screwed it up. Let's screw up all the way."
"And they say I'm the wise one."
"Who says that?"
"Um... Norbert."
"Norbert says what?" said Norbert, walking across the stage toward them.
"That Kristin's wise."
Norbert looked at Kristin.
Kristin shrugged.
Idina laughed. With Kristin's hand on her knee, and the light blinding her eyes, it was just another day at rehearsal.
END