“Then what?” asked Vern, trying to sound mean, but spit caught in her throat and it came out croaky, unsure.
“You’re not in a good place,” said Gogo, her grip tight over Vern’s hands. “I’m not sure this is the right time.”
“I’m fine,” said Vern.
“I say this as gently as possible, but no the fuck you’re not.”
Vern couldn’t help the chirp of laughter that escaped her throat. “Well, that’s not gonna change anytime soon,” she said, biting the tip of her thumbnail.
Gogo tucked her pouty bottom lip into her mouth. “I do want to,” she said quietly, only a few notches above a whisper.
“Want to what?” asked Vern, wanting to hear Gogo say it despite knowing the answer perfectly well.
“Touch you.”
Vern would’ve done anything Gogo asked at that moment.
“You are,” said Gogo, “distractingly beautiful.” Vern’s cheeks, neck, and ears rushed with blood. Gogo placed her palm on Vern’s face. “You’re blushing. Am I making you uncomfortable?”
Vern shook her head hard, shivering.
“And this is what you want?” asked Gogo.
“Yeah,” Vern whispered.
“Right now?” asked Gogo, trying to give Vern an out.
Vern nodded, though she still wasn’t ready for the dazzling hot rush of sensation that overwhelmed her when Gogo leaned in and kissed her with a gentleness Vern had not ever once been on the receiving end of.
“This okay?” asked Gogo, breaking contact. Vern let out a yelp, bereft. She was as bad as Sherman claimed. Worse. Needing Gogo’s touch was another way Vern’s body was wrong. “Vern?”
In answer, Vern leaned forward and pressed her tongue into Gogo’s mouth. Gogo tangled her fingers into the back of Vern’s hair, tugging her close with both hands.
Vern felt the kiss everywhere. Taller and broader than Vern, Gogo had a body to get lost and wrapped up in.
Gogo reached her hand up Vern’s shirt and circled her nipple with a thumb before cupping her breast hard. Gogo worked the opposite hand downward, not bothering to take off the long johns Vern was wearing. She pressed her hand to Vern’s crotch and rubbed with the heel of her hand. Vern arched her back and ground into Gogo’s hand, greedy for her touch.
Vern reached for the zipper of Gogo’s jeans, but Gogo pushed her hand away. “Just want to touch you,” she said.
They lay down together front to front, lips to lips, legs interlaced. The bed creaked with the movements of their bodies.
As Vern rubbed herself into Gogo’s thigh, Gogo touched herself, pushing her fingers beneath the waistband of her jeans and underwear. Self-conscious, Vern didn’t moan. To do so would’ve revealed another weakness: that she was prone to deep feeling, could be rendered to whimpers by it. Gogo was perfectly capable of undoing Vern, and it was better to keep it a secret just how much.
Then Gogo kissed, licked, and bit Vern’s neck—Vern’s attempts to keep quiet all at once proved futile. Desperate for each other, they clung. Vern reached one hand around to the back of Gogo’s head and the other to her ass, squeezing. Legs locked together, they dry-fucked until they both came, moaning into each other’s lips.
“You are incredible,” said Gogo, like she meant it, trembling and reverent. It was enough to make Vern weep.
17
“GET YOUR ASS UP out of bed, girl.”
Vern had been staring at the dents she’d made in the wall when his voice called to her. She lay in Gogo’s arms, the two of them wrapped up in sheets on the twin-sized bed.
“I said get up. You need to make breakfast. This kind of behavior is beneath you. Get up.”
Vern had heard these words before. She rubbed her eyes and looked up, weaving out of Gogo’s hold.
Reverend Sherman was here, in the flesh, standing in the corner.
Vern’s breaths rushed in and out of her, yet she did not take in air. This was the sensation of dying. Who had let him inside? Bridget? Had she led him to Gogo’s room to show him her sin? Were Howling and Feral already gone, whisked away before Vern could awake and have chance to make a scene?
“I’ve told you time and again, Vern, that if you don’t repent and live the life the God of Cain wants for you, I will not be able to protect you from his reign of vengeance,” Sherman said. “I saw the way you were looking at that woman in town yesterday. Everybody could.” He sounded humiliated, his voice streaked with deep hurt and fear. “They saw you looking, and they knew what you were. You can’t let them see that. You can’t afford to be this way. Do you understand? The whites don’t need an excuse to kill, but they see you looking at one of their women, they will burn you up alive. Don’t be fooled by the year. In this county, it’s still 1955.”