Fifty Shades Greener (Laurmani)

9

"Yes" she whispers "I do."  

My inner Mani flings open the velvet red curtains and pushes through with her arms held high. Her mink coat flung over her shoulders as she struts in her six inch heels.

But me, oh god, outer Mani is in tears as Lauren holds me in her arms. My heart is full, and my body is weak as we stand under the running water.

The tears flow as I look in her widened eyes, she's seemingly shocked that she had said it. But as we stand here staring at eachother the sweet confession of her words replay over and over again soothing my soul.

Yes, you do. I know you do.

It's such an amazing realization as if a crushing millstone has been tossed aside. As is I've completed my biggest task, my biggest goal. This beautiful, fucked-up woman, whom I once thought of as my romantic hero... strong, solitary, mysterious, possesses all these traits, but she's also fragile and alienated and full of self-loathing. My heart swells with joy but also pain for her suffering. And I know in this moment that my heart is big enough for both of us. I hope it's big enough for both of us.

I reach up to clasp her beautiful face and leaning in I kiss her gently, pouring all the love I feel into this one sweet connection. I want to devour her beneath the hot water. Lauren groans and embraces me in her arms, holding me as if I am the air she needs to breathe.

"I love you too," I murmur against her pink lips.

"Mani," she whispers hoarsely, gazing into my eyes "I want you, but not here."

"Yes," I murmur, breathlessly into her mouth.

She switches off the shower and takes my hand, leading me out and wrapping me in my bathrobe. Grabbing a towel, she wraps it around her body, then takes a smaller one places it around her head so that in the large mirror over the sink it looks like shes wearing a veil. She's standing behind me and our eyes meet in the mirror, emerald green to deep brown, and it gives me an idea.

"Can I dry your hair?" I ask.

She nods, though her brow creases. I turn and reach for the towel on her head and I start to dry her hair.

She tilts her head forward, making the process easier, and as I catch the occasional glimpse of her face beneath the towel, I see she's grinning at me like a small girl.

"It's a long time since anyone did this to me. A very long time," she murmurs, but then frowns. "In fact I don't think anyone's ever dried my hair."

"Clara never did? She never dried your hair when you were young?"

She shakes her head. "No. She respected my boundaries from day one, even though it was painful for her. I was very self-sufficient as a child," she says quietly.

I feel a swift kick in the ribs as I think of a small brown haired child looking after herself because no one else cares. The thought is sickeningly sad. But I don't want these thoughts to ruin this great mood both of us are in.

"Well I'm honored Lauren" I tease her.

"That you are, Miss Hamilton. Or maybe it is I who am honored."

"That goes without saying, Miss Jauregui," I respond with a sweet smile.

I finish with her hair, reach for another small towel, and move round to stand behind her. Our eyes meet again in the mirror, and her watchful, questioning look prompts me to speak.

"Can I try something?"

She gazes at me and after a moment, she nods. Warily, and very gently, I run the soft cloth down her left arm, soaking up the water that has beaded on her skin. Glancing up, I check her expression in the mirror. She blinks at me, her eyes burning into mine.