And One Day, Soon
When she looks at her like this, frowning, her lips pursed in that wounded way she uses to get her to come close, Donna doesn't care how screwed-up their relationship is.
Because it is screwed-up, no matter how good or right it feels. Even Amy acknowledged it, after they decided that they were 'workable', her own word choice, not Donna's. If Donna described the thought of the two of them dating, before they actually did, it would have been, weird, strange, or screwed-up. Because it is, Donna knows it and Amy knows it, but Amy doesn't care.
And it isn't screwed-up because they didn't date girls before they went out on that fateful dinner, because they did. Like most people, Donna experimented during her two year stay in college. Even Amy kissed a few girls in her stint at Brown.
And it isn't screwed-up because they work, technically, in the same office. Though in truth they actually don't. Donna works for the Deputy Chief of Staff, and Amy for the First Lady.
It's screwed-up because of Joshua Lyman.
When she kisses her, slips her tongue into her mouth and presses hard against her, it's easy to forget that Josh is even in the equation. But at night it comes, creeps in on Donna while she watches Amy brush her hair or clip her toenails. She sees the way he looks at her, the way he looks at Amy, the way he looks and pretends that he's not looking when Amy comes over to flirt or have lunch with her.
She sees a touch of loss there, a touch of regret. And she can't help but feel sorry for him. She can't help that he still breaks her heart. But then Amy slips into bed and puts her mouth, warm and slick, on her neck. She reaches under her shirt and her breast molds itself against Amy's palm.
When she's on top of her, Donna sometimes slips away. Amy's weight between her legs, their pelvises grinding, this is how she imagined being with Josh. He'd kiss her, cup her breast and reach down and caress her like Amy does. But Josh would be heavier, he'd be smellier and he'd be louder. He wouldn't be soft, he wouldn't taste of strawberry lip-gloss and he wouldn't moan in that mousy way Amy does.
He'd slip down her body like she does, trailing his way with kisses and playful bites. He'd take one of her nipples, stiff, in his mouth like Amy does, and swirl his tongue around it like hard candy. And he'd go down on her; he'd go down on her but not like Amy.
Amy knows how Donna likes it when she scratches her tummy while she's deep down inside her. Amy knows the velvet pleasures of long, laborious licks. Amy knows how to thumb her clit, how to draw circles around it, how much pressure is too much. Only Amy knows how to make her come in small eruptions that follow one after another. Little earthquakes that were alien to Donna before Amy came around.
When it's her turn to go down, Josh would just lie there and take it. He'd groan like a bear caught in a trap. If she licks his chest he wouldn't run his fingers through her hair like she does. If she decides to linger there, he'd tell her to get to it already. All that would matter to him would be that she takes him in her mouth.
She painstakingly kisses her body and dips her tongue in her navel, and Amy knows how she likes to hear her name said, over and over, and over again like an incantation. She likes that her skin is smooth like that of an apple, soft as cotton candy melting on her tongue. She likes how the ball of Amy's heel runs up and down the small of her back, how her thighs are warm against her cheeks and how she tightens around her when she comes.
When they cuddle, Josh is nowhere near Donna's thoughts. They'll lie down on their side, facing each other, Amy would wrap a leg around her and just look at her. They could kiss, but they could also just stay that way. When they sleep and spoon, it doesn't matter to her if she's inside or outside. All she knows is that she'll wake up with someone warm and soft against her. And one day, soon, she'll wake up and she won't care what Josh thinks or feels anymore.