Care Less, Cowgirl

Chapter 5

Chapter 5Steph

She hadn’t touched one single horse, but Steph still showered. Lilou had always insisted she wash the barn smell off when she came back from riding and today she needed to wash off more than that. Running the water as hot as she could stand, she scrubbed and shaved, erasing as much of the old boring Steph as she could. No more lengthy horse talk for her, thank you very much. From now on it was all going to be art and music and movies.

Having grown up in a family where music meant children’s songs, dance tunes, and the occasional musical, Steph regularly fought sleep when Lilou dragged her to classical concerts. Yet, despite knowing very little about it, Steph enjoyed art. Paintings, especially, and she genuinely looked forward to their museum visit today.

Surrendering the bathroom to Lilou, who was styled already but had to put her evening makeup on still, Steph retreated to their bedroom. Clothes were strewn everywhere, and, with a shrug, she hung them back up. No point in putting them in the wardrobe though, as Lilou might still change her mind on which jacket to wear over her blouse and which scarf to pair it with. Steph’s own outfit was simple. Black jeans. White blouse. Not a men’s shirt exactly since those never fit her right, but as close to it as she’d been able to get. Lilou had picked out the blazer for her, claiming it made her eyes look greener. They were brown-green at best, but whatever.

She added the scarf Lilou had given her for her forty-second birthday. Supposedly the bright geometric shapes made her look more—as Lilou had put it—in charge. In charge of what, Steph wasn’t so sure. Certainly not Lilou. Lilou did what she wanted when she wanted and how she wanted. And that’s how Steph liked it. It was what had drawn her to Lilou after all. Glamorous Lilou, capricious and flirty when she chose to be and with an iron will if she wanted something, yet surprisingly vulnerable underneath. Lilou effortlessly took command of every room she stepped into, men and women alike flocking to her like moths to a flame. But it was only to Steph she opened up, to whom she showed her softer side, her doubts and fears and longings.

Steph ran a hand over the bright fuchsia cover-up she’d just placed on its hanger. Silky yet strong, quality that lasted but in a color that stood out. It made you notice the wearer as Steph had Lilou, who’d had it on when they first met at a pre-holiday concert.

There had been a certain singer from the theatre, a star almost, yet unknown to Steph at the time. He had been part of the show and Lilou adored him. During intermission, he appeared in the foyer. A publicity stunt, no doubt, and it worked. People flitted around him, and Lilou was one of them. Her affected familiarity appeared effortless as she complimented the guy on present and past performances with enough detail to make sure he knew she’d attended them. Naturally, he agreed to have his picture taken with her.

Lilou hailed whomever was close by at that moment which, as fate had it, happened to be Steph. Annoyed, as she’d been on her way to get a drink, but not wanting to appear unhelpful, Steph took the phone and aimed it toward the singer. Lilou positioned herself as close to the guy as she dared, but in her excitement to be near her idol, she stumbled on her eight centimeter heels and came down on the guy’s toes, hard. He swore, his face through the lens of Lilou’s phone contorted and not in the slightest attractive. A mortified Lilou apologized and, professional performer that he was, the singer swiftly regained his countenance.

The moment, meant to be special and forever treasured and talked about, was lost, of course. Seeing Lilou’s face crumble underneath her overly cheery smile, Steph took charge and propelled her off to the side, away from the guy and his other fans. One hand firm on Lilou’s back, she steered her to the bar where she bought her a glass of champagne, and she’d stood by Lilou while she drank it, or rather over her, as there was only one stool available. Naturally they’d struck up a conversation. Life had been interesting ever since.

And yet—

Careful not to get any wrinkles in her freshly ironed blouse, Steph perched on one of the chairs in their dining area. She pulled her phone out, but instead of typing the code in to unlock it—Lilou’s name combined with the year they’d met—she stared at it unseeingly. Lilou had been very clear about certain things from the beginning.

“I need a partner I can show off. Not just a decent-looking one but one who knows how to dress and act in public. Someone with ambition. And a career.”

One successful enough to support the lifestyle Lilou demanded. Steph had that, at least. Having trained to become a nurse originally, but frustrated by the conditions she encountered, she’d taken business classes on the side until she had a degree that enabled her to apply for the position she held now: Nurse Manager at a private nursing home. Granted, it housed mostly the privileged and rich but—and this had been much to Steph’s surprise—those were the ones most often neglected by their families.

“My partner runs Haus Abendfrieden,” Lilou was fond of boasting.

Steph shrugged. So what if she was the boss there. She still pulled an occasional shift on the floor when someone called in sick or they were once again understaffed. Besides, it was always the owners who made the final decisions. Every improvement, every raise her staff got, Steph had to fight for. And fight she did, if she thought it was important. But mostly she enjoyed being in a position to help others. Plus, she truly liked the inhabitants of Haus Abendfrieden, even the most eccentric ones. She liked listening to their stories, both the funny and the sad ones.

“I need someone I’m proud to be seen with. Someone with class.”

Appearances were everything to Lilou. She’d grown up not with, but on the fringes of, money and status and had always been jealous of the ones who truly belonged. So she faked it and Steph figured out right away that if she wanted to be with Lilou, she had no choice but to do the same.

Sure, the whole class and manners thing had been challenging in the beginning. At Steph’s parents’ dinner table there had only ever been one knife and fork and one glass to drink from. Bourgeois middle class, or slightly less even: that was her family all right. But she’d been trainable enough, Steph supposed, even if she still had problems remembering who introduced whom at gatherings and who offered their hand to shake first. Lilou, knowing that of course, made sure in advance that Steph did it correctly, which worked out fine for both of them.

“I need someone to take charge.”

Steph hadn’t understood at first, but she sure knew now. Lilou was particular when it came to s*x and rightfully so.

“Every woman needs to be courted. Just as every time has to be special. To be perfect it has to be fresh. Has to be like the first time. Take for example, the undressing part…”

Lilou’s eyes had half closed at that, and Steph had listened raptly when Lilou described what she considered the ideal scenario. And later, after they’d watched a movie that included a scene where the hero sensuously and languorously disrobed the heroine, it had been Steph’s turn.

She smiled, remembering how she’d fumbled. But as time wore on she got better. Not just better, good.

Tonight she’d make Lilou melt again under her touch. Already she could feel her shiver as she slowly, one centimeter at a time, slid her wrap off one shoulder. And the way Lilou’s n*****s hardened under the silk top she was bound to wear when Steph ran a finger lightly across the top seam, tickling and teasing and—

“You ready?”

Blinking back to reality, Steph stood. “This one?”

At Lilou’s nod she helped her into her jacket, breathing in deeply the scent of her hair and the subtle, but oh so intoxicating, perfume she favored. It was going to be a great night.