saving all my love

two

Something weird is going on now and Rosie isn't quite sure what to do about it.

On the day of Jennie's return, the older woman absolutely refused to meet Rosie's eye. She barely spoke to her and instead delegated most of her errands through Joy, who preened over the attention.

On the second day, and every day following, Jennie began to act...oddly.

Now that Rosie has suddenly become obsessively aware of the fact that Jennie is an incredibly attractive woman, Jennie seems to have tuned into Rosie's brain waves.

Perhaps it's her imagination that Jennie is wearing more low cut blouses than usual, or skirts with slightly higher slits.

And then there's the touching.

It's not like Jennie is copping a feel or anything. Not that Rosie would mind, but it's not like that.

Jennie has taken to brushing against her in passing, or allowing their hands to touch when Rosie hands her something.

It's weirding her out.

More importantly, it's making it increasingly more difficult for Rosie to make it through a day without needing to disappear into the bathroom to relieve the tension building between her legs.

Rosie finds herself desperate for the Tokyo trip to arrive.

She needs Jennie to stop touching her.

She needs Jennie to touch her and that's why she needs Jennie to get the hell out of New York and give Rosie a break to cool off.

***

Rosie stares again at the empty suite displayed on Jennie's cam. She sighs, glancing at the clock. It's two in the morning.

She shifts, pulling at her bra's underwire frame as it digs into her side. She glances again at her planner; Jennie is in Japan and it's 3 in the afternoon. According to her itinerary, Jennie has a two-hour break between now and her dinner meeting with Nana Komatsu. She had hoped Jennie would make her appearance promptly so Rosie could manage a few hours of sleep, but tonight it is not looking likely.

Rosie purses her lips and looks once more at the still image of Jennie's hotel room. "Screw it," she mutters as she stands.

Pulling today's borrowed Chanel shirt over her head, Rosie pads towards the closet, easing the soft silk fabric onto its hanger. She readjusts the elastic of her panties, settling it over the curves of her ass. She lifts a leg, rolls one nylon thigh-high down her calf, and repeats the process with the other until she balls the two and tosses them at the basket of dirty clothes.

Her thick mane of blonde hair feels hot on her neck and she heads once more for her desk to retrieve a hair tie. As she pulls the loose strands into a high ponytail, the sound of a throat clearing makes her blood turn to ice.

Rosie glances at the computer, sees Jennie's curious face cocked to the side, and notices the adjoining box that displays her own image. The only image on display is Rosie's bra-encased breasts.

Burning with embarrassment, Rosie crouches down, disappearing beneath the desk. She presses her hand to her forehead, blinking back hot tears of mortification.

"Roseanne."

Rosie shudders. Only Jennie's voice could sound like it were immediately behind you and not filtered through sound equipment over thousands of miles away. Rosie pokes her head up, her large brown eyes blinking and staring at her webcam lens. "Y-yes?" She looks at her own webcam box, noting that nothing but her eyes and the top of her head can be seen. She breathes a sigh of relief. Now if she could only just reach her robe...