No Midnight Mercy ☾ (gxg)

11-morning whiskey

The coffee was piping hot as Mrs. Larkson poured it into the little black mug sitting on the dark wooden table in front of Eden.

"Thank you," Eden said softly, feeling a bit embarrassed that the maid undoubtedly was aware that the girl stayed the night. It was 8 in the morning, and she was wearing the same black minidress from the night before. Not that Mrs. Larkson had seen Cecilia bringing the girl home, but who in their right mind wears sequins before the sun has fully shone?

But Mrs. Larkson had an air of dignity around her, and she gave the girl an impish look as she walked around the long dining room table to pour coffee into the mug of Cecilia who sat behind the Chicago Tribune that she had spread out in front of her face. The woman must have been very traditional, Eden thought to herself, because she didn't know anyone who still read the physical copies of the Tribune except for the old people in her apartment building.

Eden was glad that she couldn't see the woman from behind the newspaper, though, because she wasn't sure if she could handle looking her in the eyes. It was hard enough seeing her svelte fists holding each side of the paper, her finger slipping between two of the papers to turn to the next page. All she could think about was how those hands touched her the night before, especially when she was bent over the woman's lap. She now felt a tinge of embarrassment at the thought, her cheeks blushing as she took her fork and knife and cut into the pancakes that Mrs. Larkson had made for her.

Cecilia, of course, was only having coffee for breakfast. Eden tried to do the same, but Mrs. Larkson's diligent ears had audibly heard the girl's stomach growl and refused to let her go without food. Eden was obliged, anyways, since she and the woman had skipped ordering a meal at the restaurant the previous night.

The pancake was warm and fluffy, the melted butter and warm maple syrup causing an eruption of delight in her mouth. The coffee was delicious as well, and Eden assumed it was probably Colombian. Clearing her throat, she suffered through the silence in the room. She felt strange that the woman had not even said a word to her since Eden lumbered out of the guest bedroom she stayed in and down to the kitchen where she found the woman reading the morning paper. Cecilia seemed to be lacking in that area of social skills, given that one of the reasons they hadn't talked in a month was because the woman had rushed the girl out after sex so disrespectfully.

The woman shocked her when she suddenly spoke, as if she had been listening in to the girl's thoughts. "How did you sleep last night?"

Eden swallowed down the piece of pancake in her mouth fast, nearly choking on it. "Um, alright," she said in a small voice. "Your house is...quiet."

The sound of paper crumpling was heard, and she looked up to see that the woman had set the newspaper down and was now looking at her, smiling slightly. She had put on a little makeup already that morning, a bit of eyeliner causing her eyes to pop even more. Eden also noticed that she was wearing a black blazer, and she remembered that it was Friday and the woman probably had to go to work.

"It is," the woman agreed, taking a sip of her coffee. "That's why half of my nights that I sleep here are so restless."

Eden's eyebrow arched. "And where do you stay the other half of your nights?"

The woman looked up at her with some sort of roguish look. "Here and there. Hotels, bars, sometimes my office."

The girl nodded, feeling the gears click in her head, a few pieces coming together to the puzzle of a woman she was trying to figure out. She began to wonder if that month of silence was actually the woman going on a bender, staying the night at hotels and bars, probably with other women. When that suffocating feeling of jealousy suddenly creeped into her throat, she took a deep breath and pushed it back down.