1. The Last Flight. Chapter 21


    Date: 7/18/2015, Categories: Lesbian, Author: Annamagique, Rating: 8, Source: LushStories

    deeply. A tear began to form in my eye and dripped onto the thick fabric of the chair. Immediately she jumped up and came to my side, stroking my hair. “Hey now, don't cry, Cherie!” she said gently, brushing back the hair from my forehead. “Jemima is so much like you. Maybe she is a woman but she is also suffering and lonely, just as you are. You both have acquaintances but friends? Real friends?” As she wiped the tears from my cheek with a little lace handkerchief I looked at her and smiled. “No, let it be,” I confirmed, “There is no-one out there for me. I will just go on as I am until the day I pass away unnoticed.” I pushed myself up from the chair and she offered the letter back to me. I looked at it for a moment and then at her. I smiled sadly and shook my head before walking away back into the house without a backward glance. I passed Pascale in the hallway. “Karen, are you all right?” she asked. I stopped and looked at her. Eyes dark but twinkling and hair as bright as the sun. I smiled sadly and kissed her cheek. “Yes, I will be,” I replied and quickly entered my room and closed the door behind me. I heard voices outside the door, speaking in French so I didn't understand any of it. I truly hoped that I hadn't upset anyone but at that moment I was in no mood to talk. I had resigned myself to a lonely life and I needed a few moments to think about my future. I had known from the start that I would have to return home at some time, but I had put my recovery first. ...
    Françoise and her daughters had made me feel like part of a wonderful family for the few weeks I had stayed with them. They were not my family though, I was just a guest and now it was time to go back to my old life and I had to prepare myself for it. I looked down at my hands. They looked a little dry as I hadn't maintained my regime of moisturising and trimming my nails so that had to be the first thing. I could never allow myself to return to those days of the factories. I went to the draw and took out my clippers and moisturiser then sat down on the bed and meticulously trimmed my nails and filed them. When I was satisfied I dipped into the tub and began to rub the softly scented cream into every part of my hands, missing not a single spot, paying careful attention to the areas between my fingers which used to get terribly cracked and sore. There was a barely noticed knock on my bedroom door. I ignored it at first, I had to concentrate. I couldn't ignore the second knock, much harder and louder. “Karen, are you all right?” a worried voice called out. “Yes Françoise, come in, sorry.” I replied, not taking my eyes off my hands for a minute. The door creaked open and a worried looking face appeared through the gap. “Oh, Sweetheart!” she said, “What have you done?” and walked quickly to me, moving the moisturiser tub away from my reach. I looked down at my hands once gain only this time they looked different. They were glistening with far too much cream and my fingertips were ...
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