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“Zay?” Irene called softly, not wanting to rouse her girlfriend from her thoughts.
“Hmm?” came the response, but the slim figure didn’t turn. Irene set down her book and slid from her comfy chair, her knees complaining ever so slightly at having been curled beneath her for too long. Her stockinged feet padded across the thick carpet, the soft noise only just audible in the quiet of the room. Through the open window, a sudden burst of laughter reached the room, a neighbour taking advantage of the warm evening, no doubt. Irene walked towards Zayanna, who was standing before the mirror in their ensuite, the door open to reveal her figure. As she approached, Irene drank in the vision, the black silk of Zayanna’s dress clinging to her body and her dark hair tumbling down her back. She too was shoeless, and Irene’s superior height made it possible to make out the remnants of glitter which were still clinging to her hair from the party they had attended earlier in the night. Or was it earlier in the day? It was well after midnight by the time they’d arrived.
Zayanna saw Irene coming in the mirror and gave a coy smile to the reflection. The taller of the women came up behind her and put her arms around her waist. Zayanna responded, resting her own on top of Irene’s and pulling them tighter.
“Hello, darling,” Zayanna said, leaning into the embrace.
“What are you thinking about?” Irene murmured into her hair, planting a kiss there at the end of her sentence.
“Oh, nothing. Just considering,” the shorter replied, enigmatic as ever. Her eyes glittered in the warm light from the wall sconces. Irene responded with a smile. She knew her girlfriend well enough at this point to know she wouldn’t get a clearer response if she asked. Instead, she hugged her closer and gazed at the pair in the mirror. Irene would have never called herself pretty, but standing next to Zayanna, she felt like the second most beautiful woman alive. The Fae’s warm brown skin contrasted her own pale skin, calloused from her various adventures on behalf of the Library. In comparison, Zayanna’s seemed flawless, save for a circular burn mark, the size of a shilling piece, right at the base of her neck. Irene herself had put it there to save the Fae from certain death. A flicker of guilt still passed through the Librarian every time she caught a glimpse of the mark. Zayanna herself had complained about it at the time, but had since claimed it added to her mystique. After all, how many beautiful women had perfectly circular marks on their necks? It was a conversation starter, she always said, although Irene knew she needed no help in that department.
“Now you’re lost in thought,” Zayanna said, breaking Irene from her musings.
“Just thinking about you, my love,” she replied, catching the Fae’s eyes in the mirror.
“All good things, I hope, darling.”
“Always,” Irene said, kissing her head again. Zayanna spun in her arms to face her girlfriend. Her long eyelashes flickered as she leaned up towards Irene to kiss her back. The Librarian’s hands stayed where they were, the smooth dress only accentuating the shape of her lover’s body as she ran her hands along it.
“Are you coming to bed soon?” Irene asked finally. By way of reply, Zayanna slid from her grasp and caught her hand, pulling her out of the bathroom and towards the bed.
“Curtains, close,” Irene asserted in the Language, and let her girlfriend lead the way.