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Aren’t We All Sinners?

Summary - Its 1923. The streets of Barcelona are rising with tension between rival gangs and you seem to find yourself in the middle of it.

A/N so, this chapter is very heavily based around r and her background, but don’t worry Alexia does show up at some point!

Warnings - mentions of physical abuse/tiny bit of smut 18

w/c 15,000

A HUGEEEEE thank you to @wosofutbolfan

This girl has helped me out tremendously with this story! It’s much hers as it is mine! Thank you girly for helping me! And adding your add libs! Absolute queen that one ❤️

You had hardly slept a wink last night.

Not because of the old rusty bed frame that creaked obnoxiously loud whenever you made the slightest of movements.

Not because your sad excuse of a mattress had given way to the sharp springs that poked into your skin with a prickly sting.

No, you hardly slept because you were overwhelmed with excitement. Your whole body had trembled with nerves, making it impossible to sleep.

Even the cutlery in your hands had slipped a couple of times at last night's dinner because of the sheer adrenaline that consumed you. You had gotten a few looks from the girls at the table for many different reasons. Confusion. Disbelief. Jealousy.

Word must have spread of your news. You ignored the stares and the whispers. Instead you put your concentration into pretending to eat, pushing around the grey mystery meat that sat sadly on your plate.

Just 16 hours ago you had been in the middle of your chores, on your hands and knees pulling weeds from the church gardens. You hated the idea of ‘chores’; it was just a dressed up word for free labour. But you didn’t have a choice in the matter.

Though, being alone in the gardens wasn't the worst of your chores. You enjoyed being outside, getting your hands dirty while the tiny gold finches sang around you in the bushes that lived in the back of the chapel. It was peaceful. Calming.

And it was the one time you did your chores without any complaints.

Footsteps approached you from behind. You glanced over your shoulder to see who it was. You smiled when you spotted Sister Claire walking towards you. But your smile quickly turned into a smirk when she shyly looked away, her cheeks already turning a shade of pink.

Sister Claire was a kind woman, on the shyer side. A little timid even. And very obedient. To an extent.

Only a week ago you had your head between Sister Claire's thighs. She had prayed to god a lot that night.

“Hello, Sister Claire. You’re looking as lovely as ever.” You said before pulling out another tough weed from the dirt.

Her big brown eyes caught yours. “Sorry to interrupt you. But Sister Maria has asked me to fetch you. She wants you to go to her office immediately.” She mumbled.

Your smile instantly dropped when she mentioned Sister Maria. “Did she say what for?”

“No. But she seemed more irate than usual.”

“Great.” You huffed as you pulled the garden gloves off of your hands.

Sister Claire escorted you to Sister Maria's office. You had assumed you were being called upon because someone had squealed on you for your lack of effort in one of your many chores. You’d bet money it was Sister Agnes, she was always snitching. She never liked the way you ‘messily’ folded the bed sheets. You had a habit of skipping a corner or two of the hundreds you had to fold. But it wouldn't be the first time you’d be pulled into Sister Maria's office for not sticking to the rules.

Sister Claire tentatively knocked on the wooden door.

“Come in.” Sister Maria's voice clipped.

“She is mad.” You whispered.

Sister Claire softly nodded and mouthed ‘Good luck’

You took a deep breath readying yourself for the belt or the caine, since she was feeling extra mad today.

The door creaked open as you entered. Sister Maria was sitting at her old mahogany wooden desk. A desk you imagined was nearly as old as the convent itself. She was scribbling something down on a sheet of paper. Just from the way her nostrils flared you could tell she was in one of her moods.

“Sit.” She ordered. Still yet to look your way.

You did as she said. Sitting on the small wooden chair in front of her.

The old familiar room smelt of dust and damp. A concoction of smells that didn't sit right in your nose. Even with the incense burning in the corner it did little to hide the odor. Egyptian Lotus was the scent burning from the stick, you knew the smell well. It reminded you of home, when you were young. Something you wanted to remember but also entirely forget. Maybe Sister Maria knew that, you wouldn't put it past her. She had her ways.

Your eyes landed on the old antique clock to the right, the hands ticked too slowly, too loudly. The clinking of the clock would always put you on edge when you heard it, because it normally meant you were getting some kind of punishment. It was second nature for the muscles on your body to stiffen.

Sister Maria still hadn't looked up from her task. You took the rare opportunity to observe her. You watched the way her skeleton-like fingers gripped at the ink pen. The deep blue veins of her hands popped hard along the thin skin of her freckled hands. She had workers' hands. Hands that had brought pain to many.

The starch white guimpe sits tightly across her face and neck. It looks suffocating. You wondered if it itched. Then your eyes catch the silver crucifix hanging from her neck, It's a hefty piece. It almost looked too large for her small stature, comical even. But you suppose the bigger the cross the deeper your love for Jesus.

Finally, your eyes reach her stealy face. All sharp and stern features. The frown lines that sat between her eyebrows were so deep in her skin you would bet she had been scowling since birth. Perhaps she was born angry. It made you wonder what she was like as a child. Was she just as miserable as she is now? The little girl no one liked, so she became a nun to feel loved by God?

You had a feeling not even God would love Sister Maria.

Her small round glasses sat low on her nose. It amazed you how they hadn't slipped off her pointy face. Her thin dry lips pursed as she continued to write. She had a few more wrinkles since you first arrived here, the bags under her eyes sagged deeper and no doubt a lot of it was thanks to you. Of course her aging skin was due to the natural stages of life but your presence had definitely helped.

You weren't sure how old she was. Maybe older than that desk. Older than Christ himself. Of course you'd keep that in your head unless you wanted to meet God.

Sister Maria stopped writing and cleared her throat. Her eyes remained on her movements. It was jarring the way she completely ignored you. Acting as if you weren't sitting right across from her even though she had called for you. One of her many mind games she liked to play.

She leisurely slipped the paper into an envelope and slowly licked the paper lip with her cracked, old dry tongue. The visual made your stomach churn. She slipped the paper in a drawer under her desk, locking it as she did.

Then she looked at you.

“Your father has passed away. God rest his soul.” She said before blessing herself.

Oh. Well, you weren't expecting that.

“Oh.” You mumbled as your eyes casted down to your hands.

You weren't really sure what to say. You hadn't seen the man in 8 years.

Yes, some would be upset and maybe even shed a tear or two on hearing the news of their father passing but honestly, you really didn't care.

It was because of your father that you were dumped in this convent in the first place. He was the reason you were no longer living in your own home, sleeping in your own bed. But instead, in a cold, damp room with tattered sheets and a rotten lump for a mattress.

In one single night he had taken away your freedom like it was nothing, not even discussing it with your mother, and definitely not with you.

Now you were spending your days imprisoned in a convent, having a religion beaten into you while you sang hymns and were forced to pray for forgiveness all while having to wear a smile on your face.

Long gone were the days where you were free to live your life, doing normal things a girl (now woman) your age would.

You missed sneaking out your bedroom window in the early hours of the morning while your family slept soundly in their rooms. Effortlessly shimmying your body down the large Oak tree that lived outside your window. Sometimes to meet friends. Sometimes to meet Sophia…

God, how you missed the simple things, like shopping at the department stores at El Siglo mall with your school friends. Laughing loudly like teenagers do at the silliest things. Eating vanilla ice cream at Llevan’s seafront while the sun kissed your skin as you watched the waves gently stroke the golden wet sand.

That was a distant memory.

Now taking a lukewarm shower without 20 other girls in the room felt like a privileged act. This was your life, it had been for 8 years.

It had been yours and your brother, Tomas’s 16th birthday a week before you were brought here. You had celebrated at your house. You parents had thrown you a lavish party. Everyone you knew was there. Your friends, your family. But now your friends were long gone. After hearing the ‘news’ none of them wanted to know you. It wasn't until 2 months after that you received a very short letter from your then best friend Emilia. She wished you well but explained she could no longer be associated with a ‘troubled’ girl like you. You understood, but it didn't hurt any less. Not when you were already outcasted from everything and everyone you knew.

Except your Mother and Brother. They never left your side.

Visitations were limited to twice a year, Easter and Christmas, the two days you most looked forward to and yet dreaded. It only reminded you of what you were missing. Slowly watching each year as their faces grew older. Having to witness your mother age and your brother mature. It killed you.

It was only ever your mother and brother that visited. Your father had never shown his face, never passed on any messages. It was clear you were dead to him.

When he left you with the nuns, crying and screaming, begging him to take you home, he never once turned back. Even when you pleaded with him. He didn't flinch when you screamed at the steps, painfully hurting your throat in the process. No, your own father left you to rot like some stray on the street. You were someone else’s problem now.

But what broke you the most was when he refused to let you attend your mothers funeral. You had only got to see her 4 more times before she died. You had begged your brother, Tomas, to make your father change his mind. But he never allowed it. Even Sister Maria pitied you that day.

You never forgave him for that. For you, you had lost two parents that day.

Sister Maria didn't say anything else, so you thought maybe you should.

“When did he die?” You mumbled.

“Last night. We got the call early this morning.” She said as she clasped her fingers together, already looking bored.

The clock read 3.47pm.

You wanted to scoff, but honestly it made no difference when she decided to tell you. He was already dead to you.

“Who- what did he die from?” “He died. Because it was God’s will. And who are you to question that?” she snarled. She then raised a grey eyebrow that was hardly visible anymore. “A heart attack.”

You nodded. Maybe that was the truth. You’d never know until you spoke to Tomas.

An awkward silence fell over the room, other than the jarring ticking of the clock. You didn't want to sit there any longer. Not with Sister Maria and her cold blue eyes looking at you with nothing but a dead stare. The woman hated you, dead parent or not. You weren't about to get any sympathy from her, not that you wanted it.

You began to stand. “Well, thank you for letting me know. I best get back to the garden-”

“Wait.”

You stopped and lowered yourself back to your seat.

“As a result of your father passing, your next of kin is now your brother.”

You nodded. Eyes downcast.

“And as he is your next of kin he has wished for you to return home.”

What?

You whipped your head up. “I-I’m going home?-”

The sudden cracking sound of skin slapping the wooden desk had you flinching in your seat and immediately sitting back

“Do not interrupt me!” Sister Maria barked, snarling her lip.

“Sorry, sister.” You mumbled before lowering your head.

She let you sit there for half a minute before she began to speak again.

“I informed him that you’re not ready to leave here. You have promiscuous ways. The devil's temptation has embedded itself deep within you. I would actually argue that it wouldn't be right for someone like you to be in the midst of good god fearing people.” She spat.

Cold goosebumps crawled from the bottom of your spine, and up the back of your neck at her words. It made your body shiver. But you did your best to hide it.

The thing is, you weren't ashamed of yourself. Even after all the years of the beatings, the abusive words, the hours of praying for forgiveness while on your knees, the days with no food. It never repressed you. But somehow Sister Maria made you feel dirty. Like some monster that people weren't safe to be around. You hated that she had that power over you. That her words could affect you like they did.

You didn't meet her gaze but you could feel it on you.

“However,’ she leaned forward, clasping her skeleton fingers together. “With your family's history I don’t need a reason to have any trouble at my doors. God's doors.”

That meant she was scared. Good. You wanted to smile at that but you knew better.

A loud, angry sigh escaped her before pressing her non-existent lips together.

“You’ll be leaving Monasterio de Santa Maria de Vallbona first thing in the morning. 7am sharp.”

You blinked a couple of times. Words weren't able to come to you.

Surely this was a dream? You discreetly pinched the skin at your wrist to see if you could feel anything. And you did. You felt the sharp pain of your nail pressing into your flesh. This wasn't a dream. This was actually happening. You were leaving.

Sister Maria began to speak again, probably preaching about how wrong it was for you to be leaving, but you couldn't hear her. Her hollow voice mingled into the background as you felt your body tremble with an overwhelming sense of pure happiness.

You wanted to scream for joy. You wanted to jump on Sister Maria's desk and scream at the top of your lungs and scream some more.

You were actually leaving this hell hole.

You kept your face calm but on the inside you were ecstatic. You had to keep your hands pressed together to stop the excited shakes from showing.

“....I advise you to pray everyday. Every morning and night. Whenever you feel the devil in your ear, urging you to commit the sins that got you here in the first place. Pray.” She advised you.

“Yes, Sister.” You nodded.

She shook her head, more than likely not believing you.

“God be with you.”

—--------

“Oh, my god. Fuck right there.” You moaned as Sister Claire pressed two of her fingers softly against your g spot.

“I’m going to miss the way you moan.” She husked against your stomach as she eagerly crawled down your naked body.

When you told Sister Claire about the news she had cried. Not dramatically, just a few tears. You weren't sure if it was for the fact that you were leaving or if she had wished she was in your spot. Either way you never asked.

So instead you had promised her one last nightly visit.

Your fingers curled into her long brown hair when you felt her lips softly trail the inside of your thighs.

“I want to feel your mouth.” You groaned. Desperately pushing her face between your legs.

She didn't need much convincing before she slowly guided her tongue gently through your wet folds.

Sister Claire’s mouth was truly godly. She did things with her tongue that no one else could. Out of all the girls you had slept with in the convent she was the one who always made you come the hardest.

She fucked you with her mouth and fingers. Making you come two more times. You returned the favour, giving her four. It was the least you could do since you were the one leaving and she was stuck here.

The room fell silent when both of your breathing became regular again. You never stayed too long. Not that you wanted to. The nuns liked to do dorm checks every now and again.

A couple years back you had been caught with your hand down your dorm mates' knickers and hers in yours. You were put in confinement for 2 weeks and beaten so hard you still had scars on the back of your thighs. You never saw her again, and you were never given another dorm mate.

Luckily Sister Claire didn't have to share her room, being a Novitiate gave you those special privileges.

You grabbed your nightgown and threw it over your head, you could feel her watching you dress.

“Are you scared to leave?” Sister Claire asked as she sat up, her long brown hair trailed down her chest.

You scoffed. “No! I can’t wait to get out of here.” You said as you buttoned up your gown.

“I’d be scared.” She mumbled. Your wetness was still evident on her chin. “Won’t it feel different when you’re out there? You’ve been here so long.”

You grabbed her brush from the bedside table and combed it through your hair. Detangling the knots her hands had made. “Yeah, too long. And no, I’m not scared. I can’t wait to leave. I can finally live my own life. Instead of slowly rotting away with everything else in this prison. That scares me more.”

Sister Claire seemed to think about that answer then. “My real name is Isabel by the way.” She whispered shyly.

You had never known her real name. You had never thought too much into it, even when you were two fingers deep inside her.

“Isabel,” You smiled as you began to pull your underwear up. “That's a pretty name.”

She smiled as her eyes swept up your thighs.

“Y-you don't have to tell me yours, if you don't want to.”

You gave her a sad smile. “Yeah, that might be for the best.”

You could tell she was disappointed with that but she didn't argue it.

“Well… thank you for the memories, Isabel.” You grabbed the door knob as you took one last look at her. “Just so you know, you were my favourite.”

That brought a genuine smile back to her face. “You were mine too. Well, my only one.” She confessed.

You nodded before gently closing the door behind you.

—----

Now here you were. 16 hours later.

You sat on the edge of your bed. The familiar metal spring poked sharply through the thin mattress digging into your thigh, like it always did. But you didn’t care, because it would be the last time you’d ever see the old bumpy thing again.

The tips of your fingers tap along your knee in unison as you wait. You were meant to be released forty minutes ago, but Sister Maria was late. The woman who was never late. The woman who would happily lash the bones in your knuckles with her favourite wooden stick if you dared to be late was now late today. But of course she was late today. Why wouldn't she be? She’d do anything to piss you off one last time.

It was another 15 minutes before the loud clunk of the locks gave way on your room's door, making you jump out of your thoughts.

Finally,

It was the first time you were ever happy to see her old miserable wrinkly face. Sister Maria gives you the same look she always gives you. Disgust. But today her face does little to affect you. It actually makes you want to laugh. You have to hold the smirk back from your face.

“Let's go.” She snaps.

The sound of your shoes lightly tap against the old stone floor, hardly making any sound. It was something you had to learn quickly when you first got here. Walk as quiet as you can. ‘God doesn't like a loud foot.’

The small leather suitcase in your hand sways with every step you take. It’s light, other than a few personal belongings there's hardly anything in it. Given you weren't allowed to bring much when you arrived here 8 years ago.

There's a small picture frame encased with a photo of you and your twin brother when you were around 2 years old. A beautiful hand held gold mirror your mother gifted you on your 11th birthday and a paint set that had nearly lost all its colours. And every letter and postcard you had received from home. Along with a bible that you mostly used as a paper weight.

Sister Maria walks 3 paces ahead of you. You couldn't hear her steps, you never could. It was as if she had clouds for shoes. Always silent as she roamed the cold hallways. Like a ghost.

It’s how she earnt the name ‘ghoul face’ of course you didn't dare call her that to her face.

The poor girl that had let the name slip was lashed 30 times in front of the whole convent. Sister Maria had gathered every student and teacher. Her skirt was lifted to everyone in the room. You’d never forget the way she screamed. By lash 19 she had lost her voice. What was once white skin had turned a deep, angry shade of red. She couldn't sit for 3 weeks after that.

Sister Maria was an evil woman. She enjoyed beating the girls. Humiliating them. Scorning them whenever she could. She got a sick king of pleasure out of it. And it was all in the name of God.

Your eyes landed on her. Her thin shoulders hardly moved when she walked. Her back was as straight as a ruler. It looked uncomfortable. Unnatural.

She would always know what you were up to. When you first arrived here you would have sworn she had eyes in the back of her head. Ears like a bat. And the coldest ice blue eyes you had ever seen on another human.

Eyes you’d never have to see again. Hopefully.

8 years you had walked these halls and yet today felt like someone had added 4 more long stretches of bricks and wood just to make sure the journey was longer.

When your eyes landed on the large wooden doors your heart lurched.

Freedom was just on the other side.

Sister Maria took a large bunch of old keys from somewhere under her habit, picking out a skeleton key that looked like every other one that dangled from the antique chain. With a few turns she unlocked the door, making the old wood creek as she pulled it open.

The fresh air hit your face instantly. It felt different. Smoother.

Sister Maria walked out first and you tentatively followed behind. It was still early morning, the sun brightly shone through the trees, making the sun rays dance between the leaves. It was the start of summer and everything was green and full of life.

You had to do a double take when you spotted Tomas in his smart pinstripe suit, leaning against your fathers black Chevrolet. You would have thought he was your father. He was the double of him.

You felt the tears that desperately wanted to appear, but you held them back. You wouldn't dare cry in front of Sister Maria. You’d promised yourself years ago that you'd never let that woman see your tears ever again. Even if this time it had nothing to do with her.

As you went to take a step you were stopped by an old wrinkly hand.

“You’re a sick girl. Your brother is doing no right by you. Allowing you to leave before we can truly fix you. It’s not ungodly.” Sister Maria grunted.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the fact that you were about to leave that you felt brave enough to speak up.

“Or maybe there's nothing to fix. Because I'm not broken.” You reply.

She raises a thin eyebrow in disbelief. “Oh you are, child. People like you are broken, so deeply broken that not even God can save you. You’re the devil's work.” She spat. Those cold ice blue eyes stared at you like she came from hell herself.

You shrugged. Trying your best to not let her words affect you. “Well then, I guess I'll see you in hell, Sister Maria.” You smirked before you quickly bounced down the stairs, giggling like a schoolgirl with your heart in your throat.

The sheer anger that took over her old wrinkly face was comical if not terrifying. “You insubordinate wench!” She yelled from the top of the stairs. The fury in her voice was thrilling. “You’ll be back!”

You ignored her. Because there was no way on God's green earth that you would return to a prison like this again. They would have to kill you first.

The stones crunched under your shoes, thankfully it was only yours you could hear.

“Tomas!” You shouted as you threw your hands up, running at your twin.

“Here she is!” He smiled as he leaned off the car, his arms open wide for you.

A single tear rolled down your cheek as you embraced. You were finally free. And it was all because of Tomas.

He pulled you back to look at you. His own eyes twinkled with tears. He had your mothers eyes, soft and loving. You hadn't seen him since Easter. He looked older. A few wrinkle lines had embedded at the creases of his eyes. The dark bags under his eyes were subtle but you could see them. His mustache was dark and thick, making him look more serious. He looked just like your father. They could have been twins.

Your little brother by 4 minutes. Now your saviour.

“Come on. Let's get you out of here. That sister’s giving me the creeps.” Tomas muttered.

Tomas took your suitcase from you and placed it in the boot. You turned around to face the old building. To give it one last look. You watched the back of Sister Maria walking inside, slamming the door behind her with such force you were sure the bolts had shifted. It made you smile, knowing you pissed her off one last time.

Your eyes swept over the grounds, the gardens that you had cared for, the impressive water fountain that sat proudly in the middle of the stone path with a figure of the Virgin Mary, her hands clasped together in prayer. It brought you back to the second year you were here. Summer had brought a blistering heat that had you sweating like a pig in a butcher shop.

You had been sweeping the steps, the same steps you had just told Sister Maria you’d see her in hell on. You had asked for a sun hat to block the sun, but instead you were scoffed at and told ‘God will provide you shade if He decides you need it’. Beside, the sun will do you good.’

The harsh rays had burnt your cheeks, turning your skin red and sore. And your anger boil. Sweat trickled down your back, making your already thick cotton dress stick tightly to your hot skin, it was suffocating. You were uncomfortable, sticky, sweaty and burning up. You had already been told you weren't allowed a water break until you were finished. You argued that was a human violation. You were laughed at and told to get on with it.

You had sat down for a second before Sister Teresa had painfully grabbed you by the ear, screaming at you in her thick Irish accent. Even though she spoke Spanish you could never understand her.

While Sister Teresa screamed insults at you in two different languages, the fountain had taunted you with its ice cold water splashing out. The sound of the water trickling was enough to make your skin gasp for something cool to run over it. You slapped Sister Teresa’s hand away and ran to the fountain. You heard her scream your name but you were already too far gone. You quickly removed your shoes and socks and dipped your feet into the cold water. Relishing in the way your body instantly cooled.

You were punished with no food for three days. But it was worth it to see the nuns' faces. Clearly in disbelief that a girl would defy their rules.

You could have blamed the sun for your behavior, said the heat had fried your brain but really you didn't care if you made trouble. Some part of you hoped if you were rebellious enough the nuns would give up and send you home. But they never did.

You realised that after the third year. But it didn't stop you from making it harder for them.

8 years you have lived here. 8 years of your life stolen. A surge of anger mixed with sadness crept into you. You had missed out on so many things. Different life events you weren't part of. Memories your family and friends had made without you. It was all stolen from you. Taken away like you meant nothing.

You gritted your teeth to stop the tears from escaping you, fiercely blinking them away.

That's when you spotted Sister Claire at one of the windows. It was her bedroom window. Even from this far you could tell it was her. You gave her a small wave and a smile. She gave you a weak one back before disappearing.

A surge of guilt hit you then. You should have told her your name.

The car engine rumbled as you took off. It was weird to be back in your fathers Chevrolet. The last time you were in this vehicle was the very night you were left with the nuns. Your father had thrown you in the back of the car and drove like a mad man.

It was the same night your father caught you with Sophia.

No one visited you for the first year. Tomas and your mother had written to you, but by the letters it was clear your father had them under his thumb. Not that you were surprised. He ran his family the same way he ran his mafia. Like a dictator.

Your dad was one of the most ruthless men in the business. And so was his father before him and his father before him. He was highly respected but mostly feared. Even by his own family.

At the age of 9 your father had you shoot a man.

No, you didn't kill him. But after putting a bullet in his knee you were sure he wouldn't have been able to walk again without the aid of crutches, that was if your father hadn't already killed him after you went to bed.

The man had been found out to be a snitch. It was the singular worst thing you could be within this world. If you dared ratted to the police and were found out, you were sure to have a slow and painful death. No questions asked.

Your dad had called you in from playing with your stuffed animals. You innocently followed him to his office, a room you knew to never enter on any other occasion. As soon as you stepped into the dark room you felt off. When you spotted a man in a chair with one eye socket completely caved in you knew the scene wasn't meant for you.

You heard a small sniffle and you recognised it instantly. Tomas was already in the room, crying softly in the corner, his bottom lip quivering. His whole body shook as he stood next to one of your fathers men.

You had seen this before. Your father, forcing Tomas to partake in his crimes. But Tomas wasn't like your father or his father before him. He was soft. Gentle. Kind. He didn't want to hurt people. He didn't care for the violence, the guns or the money. He was a child. But sadly for him he was a child of a Mafia boss. His one and only son.

And your father hated it.

So, on nights when Tomas couldn't do what your father asked, he would bring you in to make a show of your brother. He would hand you the gun or hammer and ask you to do what Tomas couldn't. And you would, no questions asked.

You hated it. You hated that your father used you to make Tomas feel worthless. But most of all you hated it because even though you did the awful things he asked of you he would never see you the same as Tomas.

When the car pulled out of the gates and onto the road you let out half a gasp that turned into a disbelieving laugh. Your shoulders began to shake with nerves, then pure joy, then everything all at once.

You threw your head back as an uncontrollable scream escaped you. But just as quickly as you let it out you covered your mouth. Embarrassment flooded you, you looked over at Tomas to apologise for your outburst.

“Sorry Tom-.”

“Wooooooo!” He yelled just as loud, interrupting your apology with his own scream. He looked over at you, smiling like a crazy person.

Relief rushed over you as you broke out into your own smile. This was your brother. Your family, he wanted to see you happy, he was the reason for your happiness, you had nothing to worry about.

You didn't hold back this time. A scream of joy escaped you once more. You let out a high pitched squeal, kicking your feet and throwing your hands in the air as it turned into a cackle.

Tomas let out a belly laugh beside you as he watched you.

A beat of silence fell over the pair of you.

“I’m actually free.”

“You are.” Tomas smiled widely, nodding at his words.

You closed your eyes tightly. Not wanting to let your emotions get the better of you. You took a deep breath and let your body relax into the car seat.

This was actually happening.

Tomas allowed you to take it all on, you sat in silence for the first few minutes. Allowing the engine to take up the noise.

“I’ve got you an apartment.”

“What?” You whipped your head at him, “Where?”

“Downtown. Near that bakery where Mami would take us to get churros.”

“I remember. The one with the blue writing outside. We'd dip them in the chocolate sauce.”

“That's the one!”

“Carmen's Cafe. I loved that place.” You mumbled fondly.

“Yeah. So did I.” Tomas murmured.

It almost seemed like a made up memory. It felt so long ago. Non existent nearly. You looked over at your brother, you spotted a few gray hairs poking out above his ear. It reminded you how much time had passed.

“I’ve also got you a job. In a library.” He smiled to himself.

“You haven’t! How? You’ve never stepped foot in a library!” You laughed in disbelief. You pictured the 6.1 man awkwardly standing near a bookcase, hat in hand, trying to be respectful.

“Jose’s aunt works there.”

“Oh Jose. Is he still as unruly as ever?”

“Pot calling the kettle black!” Tomas laughed, shaking his head at you. “I know you didn't give the nuns an easy ride in there. And I bet you broke a few girls' hearts too..”

You tried to hide the smile pulling at the corners of your mouth, turning your head as you looked out the window. “No…I didn't break a single heart.”

You were 14 when Tomas found out about your attraction to women.

It wasn't a huge reveal or an emotional discussion. You had said it causally, just in passing. As you read your Wonder Woman comic book. He shrugged his shoulders at you and went back to reading his own comic book and said “God doesn't make mistakes.” He said simply. Even at a young age he didn't see you as someone who needed fixing. He accepted you completely. He loved you, but still gave you a hard punch as he walked by you when leaving the room.

“Come on, don’t get shy on me now. You’ve always been a flirt with the girls. Did you have someone special in there?”

“One or two.” You chuckled softly.

In truth you had bedded 7 girls in total but Tomas didn't need to know that.

Tomas threw his head back and a roar of laughter left him. “Your lying face hasn't changed one bit, you know?”

You could feel the tips of your ears going red.

“I bet you got more skirt than me.” He mumbled amused.

“Tomas!”

—------------------------

“So, this is your new home.” Tomas said as he unlocked the apartment door, holding it open for you.

As soon as you took a step over the threshold you instantly fell in love with the place. It was a small apartment, but it would be plenty of space for you. It gave you a cozy, warm feeling. It was naturally bright, with the sun shining through the large balcony windows, giving the room life.

And it was all yours.

“I know it's not the most luxurious but it's what I could find at such short notice. It's a safe part of the neighborhood. You have a good size bedroom.” He nodded towards said room.

You stepped toward the wardrobe and opened it. It had a few smart dresses already hanging up. You looked over at him, clearly shocked. “You got me clothes?”

“I got Jose's sister to pick them out. Some shoes too,” He smiled, clearly proud. “Do you approve?”

You stroked the fabric of the skirts, you hadn't owned your own clothes in so long.

“I approve.” You smiled.

“And a spot where you can put your plants,” He walked over to the window in the living room, pointing at the wall where the sun painted the brick. “The estate agent told me it's south facing. Apparently that's good for plants,” He shrugged, “You still like plants, right?”

It was funny to see that Tomas still rambled when he got nervous. It was a quirk he had since you were kids. A few strands of his dark hair fell out of place as he looked out the window to the front, he quickly smoothed it back with his palm, the movement reminded you of your father. He really was his twin. But only by looks.

On the drive here Tomas had you caught up with everything. He told you about your Mothers illness. How strong she had been up to her last breath. How your Father had changed after her passing. You also found out Tomas was taking over the business from your Father but you had already known that, it's what your Father had planned for him the day he was born.

“Things are a little delicate. Now that Papa’s gone I have vultures on my back. The streets are unsettled and people are ready to pounce.”

That explained the bags under his eyes.

He looked over at you, worry sketched on his face, clearly taking your silence as a bad sign, but truthfully you were just trying your hardest to not let yourself break down.

18 hours ago you were on your hands and knees, pulling out roots from the church gardens. Serving a prison sentence.

Now you had your own apartment and a job lined up for you. It was maddening how different your life could change in a day. You actually had a second chance.

“It’s perfect, Tomas. I don’t even know how to thank you.” Your voice wobbled.

Tomas walked over to you, both his hands gently grabbed your shoulders, giving you a loving squeeze. “Hey, you don’t need to thank me. What you’ve been through…” He looked away, his eyes glazing over with mist. “What Papa did to you was unforgivable. He was wrong for it. Mami and I were never the same with him. She even tried to leave him but…” He stopped himself.

Your own eyes began to water.

“Well, you can imagine how that went down.” He mumbled, giving you a sad watery smile.

You nodded, you understood. Even if you hadn't been around for 8 years you knew the type of man your father was, Tomas didn't need to explain that.

He sniffled before squeezing your shoulders again. You watched as he walked towards your cupboards, quickly wiping your own eyes as his back was turned.

“I’ve got you some groceries, bread, milk, eggs. But here’s some cash until you get your paycheck.” He pulled out a thick wad of money before licking his finger to count. “If it's not enough let me know.”

You came closer, taking the cash from him. “Thank you, Tomas.”

He let out a small chuckle as he looked you over. “You don’t know how happy I am to have you back.” He said as he gave you a beaming smile.

“I’m glad to be back.”

A beat of comfortable silence fell over the pair of you before a car horn outside broke the bubble.

“Okay, I’ve got to go. I have to see a man about a dog.” Tomas said as he looked at his wrist watch. You didn't miss the way his shoulders tensed up as he began to head towards the door.

You nodded, following behind him.

Tomas let out a tired sigh as he stood outside your door. You lent up against the wooden beam, folding your arms as you watched your ‘little’ brother going off to fill shoes he never wanted to wear.

“I’ll check up on you tomorrow. Make sure you’re not late on your first day. Mrs Rivera doesn't take well to lateness. Or rudeness, or back chat… just try not to be yourself.” He chuckled.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not that bad.”

“And the pope isn't a Catholic.” Tomas’s voice dripped with sarcasm. ”Just remember, yeah? Libraries are supposed to be quiet”

“I’ll be good. I promise.” You crossed your heart with your fingers. Something you and Tomas would always do when you were young.

Tomas shook his head as he began to walk down the stairs.

“And no flirting!” Tomas shouted as he disappeared round the bend of the staircase, his shoes tapping against the wooden floor.

You closed the door, shaking your head at your brother's childish giggle. “No promises.”

—---------------------

The streets were bustling with people. Most of them were heading to work, some just finishing. Vendors neatly positioned their fruit and veg, hoping to make the fresh food more appealing if stacked at the right angle. Impatient drivers angrily honked at the stand still of vehicles, blaring their horns as if that would get them out of traffic any quicker.

Your heart raced a little harder than usual, you hadn't been in such a busy environment in about a month, and you definitely hadn't been outside without one of the sisters glued to your side. Let alone by yourself.

Every Sunday you and the other girls were permitted to leave the convent. Though, it was never for your own leisure time. The only reason you were allowed to step foot outside the convent was always to better the church in some way. Most of the time it was to work at soup kitchens, or orphanages. It was a straight in and out job. You were never allowed to go out alone, or even in pairs.

Unless you had Sister Ana chaperoning you. Sister Ana was a kind woman. She was a lot younger than the other nuns, only a few years older than yourself. She had taken a liking to you when you first arrived. The young nun would let you get away with small things that the other sisters would punish you for. There was something rebellious about her. She wasn't like the other nuns. She always wore a smile on her lips like she was holding a secret. A secret you think you already knew.

Sister Ana was yours and every other student's favourite. She allowed you and the other girls a half an hour to do what you wanted, within reason of course. But when one of the girls was caught stealing a muffin from the market Sister Ana was dismissed from the church immediately.

You had cried that day, alone in your room. Until one of the prefects knocked on your door asking if you could ‘do that thing with your tongue again.’

The warm smell of freshly baked bread filtered from the bakers and wafted into your nose, making your mouth instantly water. You peaked into the window just in time to see the baker carrying out a tray of freshly baked rolls. You were so absorbed watching the steam rise from the hot rolls you hadn't watched where you were going, clumsily walking face first into a hard body.

You nearly toppled over before strong hands gripped at your waist, saving you from falling on your backside.

You opened your mouth before thinking, like you normally did.

“Son of a bitch!” you hissed, grabbing your arm from the knock. “Do you want to watch where you’re going?” You half shouted half grumbled, pulling your bag back up to your shoulder with a disgruntled huff.

You were ready to shout at the ignorant man some more for not looking at where he was going, even though you knew damn well you had been completely distracted yourself.

But you regarded your pride too highly to apologise to a man.

It wasn't until you actually looked up to see a pair of piercing hazel eyes looking down at you that you realised she in fact was not a man.

Not. At. All.

Gone was the smell of fresh bread, you had completely forgotten what had even caught your attention in the first place.

You blinked a couple times before you could open your mouth. “Shit, sorry I thought you were…” You trailed off not really knowing how to redeem yourself.

The tall, pretty brunette cocked her head, her eyes studied your face before she slowly smiled. “Well, considering I was standing right here when you bumped into me, I'd say you should look where you're going.” She teased.

That voice definitely didn't belong to a man.

You weren't one to fumble your words or get thrown off by a pretty face, but this woman really did have one of prettiest faces you'd ever seen. And it wasn't just her striking hazel eyes or stunning features that caught your attention, it was also her attire.

She was fitted in an smart ash grey suit that had definitely been custom made for her and just by first glance you could tell it was a very expensive tailor. The lines were clean cut, not a stitch out of place. The wingtip brogues on her feet were polished to perfection, like she had just walked out of the shoemakers before bumping into you.

Other than the fact she was a woman, she could have easily been a member of your fathers mob from her choice of outfit, it commanded respect. You’d bet that she even had a pistol strapped beneath her jacket.

She looked familiar and yet nothing like you had seen before.

And fuck, she looked good.

Only then you felt her fingers twitch at your side that you realised her hands were still comfortably wrapped around your waist. You looked down at the touch, feeling your skin heating up where her hands lingered. Even with the layer of fabric between you, your skin tingled from her touch.

The beautiful brunette followed your eyes, and slowly and maybe a little reluctantly let go of your waist. Tucking a hand into her suit pocket.

It was ridiculous, but you already missed her touch.

“Sorry, I was in a rush.” You breathed a little out of breath.

You might not apologise to men, but a pretty woman was a whole different story.

And she was so stunningly beautiful.

“It's okay, no harm, no foul,” She leaned in a little closer, close enough that you could smell her woody perfume and whispered. “I have women falling for me all the time.” She winked.

And very fucking full of herself. Drop dead gorgeous or not, it wasn't a turn on for you.

You let out a breathy laugh before eyeing the women in front of you. “Oh, is that so?” You playfully rolled your eyes. “Well, I must be the exception, because that was a lousy chat up line.” You smirked.

The pretty woman's neat eyebrows shot up in shock, clearly a little taken aback from your comment. She probably thought you would blush and fall at her feet, like you imagined she was used to. But you weren't that easy. Even if she was beautifully handsome.

“Ouch!” The brunette dramatically sighed as she placed her hand near her heart as if you physically broke the muscle. “My charm normally works on the pretty girls.” She pouted.

You wondered what it was like to sink your teeth into her bottom lip. No, don’t fall for it.

“I suppose you’ll need to work your charm a little harder than,” You stepped closer as the brunette watched your movements. “I don’t fall for shit chat-up lines.” You purred while giving her a wink of your own.

The beautiful stranger let out a deep chuckle shaking her head in disbelief. “You got a dirty mouth for such a pretty face.”

“Hmm, you wouldn't be the first to tell me that.”

Her hazel eyes sparkled with intrigue. “I’m sure I'm not,” She took a final step closer to you, fully in your personal space now, (not that you minded in the slightest) and raised a suggestive eyebrow at you. “So, tell me, when would be an appropriate time to work my charm on you? For practice of course.” She husked, her smirk widened into a full smile that unfortunately for you, made your breath hitch.

Tonight, in my bed, while I take those large fingers in me. You could work your charm on me all day and night if you wanted too!

But you couldn't say that, that was your pussy talking. You needed to get to this job, you were running late now. And you didn't want to mess it up, not when Tomas had gotten you this. Focus!

It wasn't until you spotted another woman appear to the side of her that you realised she wasn't alone. This brunette woman was shorter, but no less intimidating. She was dressed similar to the woman in front of you, her suit was almost a mirror image. Her doe brown eyes gave you a once over, sizing you up.

“Maybe another time. Don’t want to cause a queue for all those fallen women of yours.” You gibed. But even when you said it out loud you felt a pang of jealousy.

Get a grip.

“That's a shame.” She murmured. Her eyes flickered down at your mouth. “I would’ve liked to have practiced my charm on you.”

Fuck, this woman was killing you.

Despite your best efforts to look more in control then you were, you couldn't stop the flush creeping up your neck.

“I’m sure you would, but sadly I'm in a rush for work. Maybe if I bump into you again, we can take a reign check?”

“Promise?” She cocked her head, catching her lip between her teeth.

You tried to hold back the giddy smile but it was hard when a woman who looked like her was shamelessly flirting with you.

You playfully rolled your eyes at her but nodded nun the less. “Promise. May I get passed now?” You motioned your head to the pavement. The momentment of your head distracting her gaze from your lips, and you swear she shook her head out of a trance before she responded.

“Of course. Please.” She smiled before stepping to the side, allowing you to pass her.

“Thank you.” You thanked the brunette, smiling as you walked past her.

“Have a good day, miss. I look forward to bumping into you again.”

You took a few steps before you looked back. “I can’t wait.” You chuckled, sending the brunette a cheeky wink over your shoulder.

The brunette let out a low chuckle shaking her head at you clearly amused.

“She’s trouble.” The brunette mumbled under her breath as you went on your way.

—---------------------------

“So, this is where we write the details of every person who borrows a book.” Jana smiled as she eagerly opened a thick folder that you assumed held said details.

Jana was your new work colleague. The girl had shown you around the library all morning. Training you on how to talk to customers, where you find certain books, even giving you the gossip on some of the regular visitors.

Jana was a couple years younger than you and had energy that was even younger than that. She was perky, smart and very chatty. You had instantly liked her. She was like a mischievous little sister that could easily get you into trouble. And with her charming charisma you had a feeling she could easily get herself out of trouble just as fast. She was an all round sweet girl.

When lunch time came around Jana took you to a popular cafe spot not too far from the library. You passed the bakers where you had bumped into the gorgeous lady from earlier. It felt silly but you had looked around the street wanting to have seen her again. Like a dog who had once found a piece of chicken in a field and hoped to find it once more.

You and Jana grabbed a coffee and sandwich and sat in a booth by the window. She spoke about where she was from, you learnt you hadn't grown up far from each other and attended the same catholic girl school. She spoke about her childhood. How long she had worked at the library and what else she wanted to pursue in life.

“So, what about you?” She smiled as she sipped at her coffee.

You knew this question would come. And you knew the truth could ruin your shoot at keeping the job. So, you lied.

“I’ve been staying with my aunt for a while. In the countryside. Out West. Far away.”

Jana nodded at you to keep going.

“She-she wasn't well. So I had been looking after her. Until she passed on.” You rambled.

It was a complete lie but you couldn't take the chance.

“Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry!” She said as she held your hand.

You felt bad. So you moved the conversation on quickly.

“It’s okay. She was old.” You nodded, drinking your empty coffee cup to bid you some time.

“So, what about your love life? You got someone sweet waiting for you at home?” Jana's brown eyes twinkled as she asked, any sympathy for sweet-fake-deceased-auntie gone from her gaze.

The phrasing of the question was an odd way of asking if you had a boyfriend. But you supposed you hadn't been around people who were actually courting in a while. Maybe the lingo was changing.

“No, no. I haven't got a boyfriend, and there's no ring on my finger, so no husband either.” You chuckled gently.

Jana’s shoulders seemed to drop a little at the answer you gave her.

“What about you? You must have about a hundred men begging for you to be his girlfriend.” You joked.

You swore you saw the girl shiver at the question or maybe it was the implication.

“God, no. Men my age just want to get married, hide you away and get as many children out of you as he can.” She scoffed then almost looked a little anxious at the scandalous answer she gave you.

Even if you had been tucked away for a long time, women never spoke like that. The ‘normal’ answer would be ‘I have a boyfriend of 4 months, we’re getting married in 3 months.’ But this was different. You loved it! It thrilled you to know the girl wasn't looking to rush off and throw away her whole life for a man.

“I just don’t want to do it so soon is all.” Jana mumbled as her eyebrows knitted together in worry. But she had nothing to worry about.

“No, I completely agree with you!” You chuckled.

“You do?” Jana’s smile crept back on her face.

You gave a little glance around the cafe before leaning closer to Jana, she instinctively did the same. “Can I be honest with you?

Jana nodded. Her sweet face suddenly turned serious.

“I don’t think I ever want to marry a man.” You whispered.

Jana's eyes widened at your confession before a huge smile broke across her face. “Me too!” She shouted.

You both began to giggle, clearly too loudly, catching the attention of a table next to your own. Two older ladies gave you a look of annoyance.

“It's refreshing to hear. Sadly not a lot of girls think the same.” You sighed.

“I know,” Jana nodded. “All my school friends are already married,” She shook her head in disbelief. “Some with children!” She whispered as if saying it too loudly might magically curse her with that very lifestyle, her face changing to one of repulsion.

Jana looked at her watch. “We better head back. Don’t want Mrs Rivera to give us shit on your first day.”

You laughed as you began to stand. “No, she was scary enough.”

Really Mrs Rivera was a pussy cat compared to Sister Maria, but you couldn't tell Jana that.

You stood at the table fixing your coat as Jana began to talk about something or other. But your attention was stolen when your eyes caught a glimpse of a woman outside. She looked just like the pretty brunette from earlier. Was it her? It looked like her. Your fingers stopped working as you followed her, trying desperately to see her face.

But when a car horn honked and the lady turned her face to the sudden noise your hopes had been bitterly halted. Even your shoulders slacked at the realisation that It wasn't her.

You didn't want to admit but the beautiful stranger had been in the back of your mind all day.

It wasn't until Jana gently cleared her throat that you realised you had been caught staring.

“Ready?” The young brunette smiled a little more mischievous than normal.

“Yep. Ready.” You forced a smile.

The rest of the day was mostly slow, giving you and Jana lots of time to talk. Well, mostly Jana talking at you, which you didn’t mind. Your brain was somewhere else, on someone else. She was in the middle of showing you another task when a young woman came up to your desk.

“Hello, I just want to check this book out please.” She smiled politely at the pair of you. Almost looking a little nervous.

“Of course, my assistant will help you out today.” Jana smiled as she gently nudged you to take on the task.

“I’d be happy to help.” You smiled at the red head. The very cute redhead.

You took the books from the side and smiled when you saw the author printed on the cover. Virginia Wolfe. ‘Orlando: A Biography’

Back in your early teens you had been obsessed with the same book. You had hid the novel under your bed, not wanting the maids or your mother to find it. Giving its themes.

“I love this book.” You smiled as you wrote down the details of the book in the check out folder.

The redhead gave you a shy, reliving smile. “So do I. She’s an amazing author.”

You nodded in agreement. “Have you read ‘Mrs Dalloway’? It’s another favourite of mine.”

“I have! I just finished it last week.”

“I need to read it again. It's been a while. Oh, sorry, can I get your name and address?”

As the girl gave you her details Jana watched the whole interaction with a pleased little smirk on her face.

“Great, that's all done. I hope you enjoy.” You smiled as you slipped the book back over.

“I’m sure I will.” The redhead smiled back, grazing your fingertips as she took the book from you.

The girl turned on her heels and swayed her hips as she left you and Jana alone once more.

“Well, that was interesting.” Jana smirked.

You turned to look at her. “Did I not do it right?”

“No, you did great. You knew a lot about that author.”

“Oh, erm. Yeah, she's a brilliant writer.” You mumbled.

Fuck.

“Hmm.”

“...What?” you ask, your voice harsher than it has been all day. What's wrong with you? You had literally been out of the convent for one day. “Nothing, nothing.” Jana raises her hands in innocence from where she stood organising returns. Your heart rate settled back into your chest as she turned back around to her organising. You took a breath and turned back around. “They say you can tell a lot about people from the books they read, y’know?” Jana says, suddenly. Now, you know libraries are famously quiet places. But this library, at this moment, must have been a sound vacuum, your ears filled with the sound of blood rushing to your face as you distracted your hands with the return receipts you were pretending to organize. “Do they? I’ve never heard that.” you mumbled. “No? Maybe they don’t say that out west.” Jana replied, neither of you looking at each other, Both pretending to complete your separate tasks. For a moment the only sound is the shuffling of papers and Mrs Elonzo still taking hours picking a cooking book in aisle 3. Or at least pretending to whilst she sneaks whiskey from the hip flask under her cardigan. “Hey. Are you free Saturday? I want to show you a place?” Jana asked with her back still facing you.

“Erm.. yeah, I’m free. What kind of place?” You asked, side eyeing her profile.

She took a quick look around the library, making sure no one was around, but it was still as quiet as it was the whole time you'd been there. She stepped a little closer to you. “A bar.” She whispered.

“A bar?” Your eyes popped open in shock.

“Shhh!” Jana hushed you before looking around again, but no one had heard. “Yes, a bar. It’s called ‘Bar 11’.”

“Bar 11.” You repeated.

It was illegal to serve or drink alcohol. Enough to put you in prison for up to five years, maybe longer. You knew bars had been closed down since the prohibition. They had closed even before you were taken to the convent. You had passed a few when you walked through the town to work. Their windows bared up and closed down. Some were new shops altogether.

Not that it stopped you and the other girls from making your own hooch in the convent.

But you had yet to see inside a bar.

“I’ll need something to wear.” You smiled.

“Yes! I’ll take you shopping after work.” She squealed, “I can already tell red is your colour.”

You laughed, shaking your head at the young excitable girl. “I do look good in red.”

—----------------------

Saturday arrived and just like Jana promised she had knocked on your door at 8 sharp. You had apologised for the lack of furniture, but she only used it as an opportunity to take you furniture shopping.

You held your clutch a little tighter as you and Jana stepped outside the taxi cab. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, making you slightly nervous, not knowing what to expect.

“Come on.” Jana smiled gleefully at you as she grabbed your wrist.

You were standing outside a line of restaurants, their artificial lights glowed brightly in the dark, trying to catch the eye of hungry passer byers. The smell of Tapas drifted into the street, mixed with other delicacies.

You approached a brunette woman standing near a dark cove with a door behind her. If you hadn't caught the soft features on her face you would have mistaken her for a man.

The attire reminded you of the brunette you had bumped into at the bakery. She was fitted in a long black wool suit coat and shiny black brogues on her feet. Her newsboy cap sat low on her eyes, giving her a frankly intimidating look. She stood with her legs rooted to the spot, like strong tree trunks, while her shoulders sat tall and firm and her leather gloved hands crossed neatly in front of her. You watched as she nodded to two women as she opened the door, allowing them entrance.

That's when you realised she was the doorman or in this case, women. Come to think of it, you had never seen a woman manning a bar or any establishment before. Though she looked like she could take on a man or two without a sweat. But even with the dim street light you could see she was smiling, clearly already knowing Jana.

“Hello, you!”

“Hey Lucy. How have you been?” Jana smiled, opening her arms to greet Lucy.

“Good, good. I hope you’ve been keeping yourself out of trouble.” She smirked.

You could tell she wasn't Spanish, she had an unusual accent, French maybe? But her Catalan was fluent.

“I can't get into trouble if I don’t get caught.” Jana chuckled.

“Hmm, I suppose not. Who’s this?” The woman nodded to you. You didn't miss the way her stunning green eyes swept over your body.

“This is my friend from work.”

“Well well well, ‘Friend from work’ You are very welcome here.” the brunette schmoozed, as she opened the doors she was standing in front of.

“Thank you.” You mumbled, still a little puzzled.

“Have fun, girls.”

The door opened to a dark hallway leading down a set of stairs. Jana confidently led you down, clearly knowing this place well. Golden candle holders mounted the walls, giving you just enough light to see where you were going. You almost didn't see the hidden door, it looked as if it was a dead end, until Jana pushed at a certain spot in the wall to reveal another, wider hallway.

Thankfully this space had more light. The walls were lined with picture frames, some group photos, some solo, but you didn't have time to look at them before Jana excitedly pulled you towards another secret door where you could hear the subtle sound of music. It made your heart race a little more.

“Ready?”

“Yes.” You nodded.

Jana knocked four times then spoke.

“Sappho.”

Suddenly the door opened and the sound of a live band swelled into your ears, playing an up beat jazz number. You both stepped through the secret door where you spotted a brunette woman standing on the other side. That's when you noticed the two small peep holes in the wall. You put two and two together realising she had been watching you in the hallway. Something you had seen in your fathers own establishments.

“Hey, Patri.” Jana smiled as she greeted the woman with a kiss on each cheek.

“Jana! It's been too long.” Patri smiled warmly.

“I know, I know.” Jana waved her off. “This is my friend.”

Like the woman upstairs, Patri was dressed in male clothing. Her pristine white shirt was buttoned up to her neck. With a fitted tweed waistcoat and matching trousers.

In just 48 hours you had now seen 4 different women all dressed in men's clothing.

Patri's brown eyes landed on you, giving you a once over before a sly smirk pulled at her lips.

“A very pretty friend. Hello, I'm Patri.” She said as she gently took your wrist and placed a kiss on the back of your hand. Giving you a quick wink.

This was different, you never had a woman kiss your hand like that in public before. Not, so openly. You gave Jana a quick look, but she was already waving at someone, not caring in the slightest.

“Hello, Patri.” You said, giving her a flirtatious smile of your own.

“I haven't seen you here before.” The brunette quirked an intrigued eyebrow at you.

“I’m not from ‘round here.”

“I didn’t think so, I'd have definitely remembered you.”

“Alright, alright. You two can flirt later, I need a drink.” Jana said as she tugged you away.

“Oh, I wasn’t flirting-” You quickly mumbled.

“It was nice meeting you,” Patri waved you off as you were pulled by the younger girl.

“You too.” You shouted over your shoulder, still a little dazed at Jana’s comment.

Your stomach suddenly filled with dread. Did she know?

The room was larger than you thought it would be, but yet still small enough to give the place an intimate feeling. There were at least ten small round tables, each of them occupied by people. Some tables had at least five to six guests crowded around it, others smaller. Each of them glowed from the small red stained glass that flickered with a candle burning in the middle, giving the room a cozy atmosphere.

One side of the room wall was lined with booths, all full with more people, laughing and chatting amongst themselves. To the right stood a beautiful bronze bar with wooden stalls next to it. Jana pulled you back by her side, beelining you to the bar, where you grabbed two stalls.

“Hey, Jana.” A young woman approached you behind the bar, dressed just like Patri but with the classic bow tie a bartender would wear.

Another woman working a man's job, wearing men's clothes. Sister Maria would have a heart attack on the spot. You liked that thought.

“Hey, Esme, how’s it going?”

“Can’t complain. Busy as usual.” She gestured towards the room.

You left the two to speak amongst themselves when you took another look around the room. Your eyes focused on a table of women, they were laughing loudly, completely carefree, sipping on their champion flutes, all dressed in colourful cocktail dresses.

The motion of two people in the corner caught your eye, they were snuck away in a booth. They were kissing like no one else was in the room, his hand was cupping her jaw as she eagerly leaned into his touch, kissing him right back. You were sure you saw the shine of spit when someone's tongue poked out. Her hand tugged gently at his hair, messing up the neat neat parting.

When they finally came up for a breath of air, realisation hit you. He wasn't a man. He was a woman.

You looked around at the other tables and it hit you.

They were all women, every single person.

You felt Jana’s eyes on you.

You swallowed. “Jana... I’ve been out West for a while. Have things… changed….since?”

Jana handed you your glass. It was an Old Fashioned, the same drink your dad would drink.

“Things haven't changed, but I assumed this place would be right for you.” She said before she tentatively took a sip of her drink. Her eyes closely trained on you.

Not only had Jana brought to you a Speakeasy. She had brought you to a Lesbian speakeasy.

“I don’t know what you mean-”

“Sweetie, no one looks at a Virginia Wolfe novel like that without being into women.” Jana smiled kindly, patting your leg almost condescendingly.

Wow. You weren't expecting that.

Maybe you were a little more obvious than you thought you were. But being locked away for 8 years alongside other lesbians may have made you a little audacious, and just a tad too comfortable.

You took a tentative sip from your glass. Letting her words sink in. You felt the alcohol run down your throat, warming your stomach.

You finally looked at Jana, and smiled. “Is it that obvious?”

Jana threw her head back, laughing loudly. “Very. Well, to me anyway.”

You sat there for a few seconds, taking it all in. “And… are you-okay? With me?” you questioned, embarrassed. Jana barked out a laugh - “Ha! If I wasn't okay with you then I wouldn't be okay with me!” she continued to laugh to herself, but she caught your worried gaze and bottom lip being chewed in your mouth and put a hand on yours. “Sweetie, I promise, you are safe here. We’re your people.” You felt the tension leave your body, as though you had been deflated for the first time in years as her acceptance washed over you. Even in the convent you’d had to hide who you were. This was the first time you had been openly accepted for being you. You felt silly for wanting to cry at the realization. It wasn’t the time. So you just squeezed Jana's hand that still rested on yours. “Thank you” you whispered, and moved your eyes to her face to take in her kind smile. As though she sensed that she needed to break the tension, her kind smile turned more coy.

“See anyone you like?” Jana smirked, swivelling her chair to look at the rest of the bar.

You let out a breathy laugh and shook your head in disbelief. “Not yet.”

You looked around the room once more, all the different women, in dresses, in suits, some a mix of both masculine and feminine.

Jana explained the different types. “See, so, over there you have the butches…” she haphazardly threw her hand over to where some ladies in 3 piece suits where playing an intense game of pool…”... they look like they’d kill you but, honestly, if you’re in the mood to be treated like a princess, go over there, pretend they stood on your foot and they’ll cry and carry you home…” “Over there are some lipstick lesbians…” she nodded to the other side of the bar you were sitting at where two ladies gossiped together over martini glasses, one caught your eye and winked at you, causing a blush to rise up your neck, making Jana giggle. “Careful with those girl, she’ll make you love her, get two cats and move on in a hot minute…”, you were distracted from your gaze as Jana clicked in front of your face, drawing you out of your trance. “The Tommys are over there…” again, she gestured towards a booth where a group of people dressed in more casual men's attire sat, hair slicked back, playing cards and smoking. You swore you saw a toolbox under the table before it was kicked away by a steel-toe capped boot…”great for if you want to try to pretend you're straight for a while. They dress like men and work like men… but… you know… in my experience that's not the only thing they do like men if you know what I mean…dissapointing.” she dismissed them with a flick of her hand. “Jana. The coaster knows what you mean.” you deadpan, your face starting to hurt from laughter.

She continued to point around the room describing different people in the little cliques that you were getting used to identifying, soft butches, arty lesbians, chapstick lebians. Honestly. You felt like your head was spinning. “And then we have, you! The baby gay!” she explained, arms gesturing around you, you don't know why but you knew you should be offended, so you scoffed. “Excuse me!” you argued lightly, unable to hide your laugh at her antics. “Oh come on sweetie. You give off pure innocent angel vibes. Good job I’m with you. I’m practically keeping this lot at bay as though they are a pride of lions and you are fresh meat!”. She laughed, downing her drink and popping the olive into her mouth, indicating two more for the both of you to Esme. “Well…. Maybe I’m not as innocent as I appear.” you couldn’t help but tease, winking at her. Jana practically guffawed. “I knew it! Come on, tell me everything” she begged as you laughed into your hands.

After a little over an hour you could feel your cheeks heating up from the alcohol along with the heat of the room. The place had gotten a lot busier. The dance floor was a mesh of people dancing. Showing off their moves while the alcohol gave them courage.

“I need to go to the lavatory, I’ll be right back. Make sure no one takes my seat.” The young girl pointed at you, smiling as she left.

You busied yourself ordering two more drinks for you and Jana

Just as Esme brought you over two fresh drinks, you felt someone sit next to you.

“Sorry, someone's sitting there…”

Your words were lost on your tongue when your eyes reached a pair of familiar hazel ones. “Here?” she asked, nodding towards the seat… “someone sitting here?” You couldn't help but nod dumbfoundly, caught off guard which is so unlike you, indicating that the seat was taken. “Well. Not anymore.” she said, moving the stool out and sitting on it like she owned the place. “Look who it is. It's the pretty girl with the dirty mouth.” The brunette smiled smugly at you.

It was her. The woman who had selfishly and unknowingly taken over your thoughts since you left her outside the bakery. You had lost count in the amount of brunettes you had double taken in the street, looking like a deranged woman. Driving you crazy without even knowing her name. It was her.

In the lesbian speakeasy. Looking just as good as she did the first day you saw her. Better even.

“Here I am.” You winked. Finding your confidence.

She liked that, and going by the way her hazel eyes traced your body she also liked what you were wearing.

“Have you been running into more innocent civilians or just me?”

“No, just the ones that stand in my way.”

“Oh, so I'm the lucky one.” She gently chuckled.

A small laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it. “Maybe.”

Her eyes roamed your body once more. “You’re looking very nice tonight.”

“Thank you,” You said, taking a sip of your drink to try and hide the blush. “So are you.”

Your eyes were easily drawn to her open shirt, you catch a flicker of a gold chain sitting on her skin beneath the fabric. It makes you wonder what else she has hiding beneath it.

“So, who does this seat belong to? A friend?” She asked.

You lift your glass to your lips before raising an eyebrow at her. “And what does it matter to you?” You tease.

The brunette smirks as she leans closer to you. “All the seats belong to me.”

“Is that so?” You quirk an eyebrow at the woman.

A loud cheer rises from the other side of the room, she’s quick to glance over before her attention is back on you.

“So, you promised I could practice my charm on you if we met again.”

“I did.” You nodded, “but I’m a little busy right now.”

“Ahh, you’re always busy. How will this work if you’re always busy.” She points between the pair of you.

You can’t help but love the confidence that exudes of the brunette. She has a natural way of easing you. It's a little scary how easy this all feels.

“You just catch me at bad times.” You shrug, smiling at her rolling eyes.

“Are you having a good time?” She changes the subject.

“I am,” you nod, “this place is really…lively. Everyone seems to be happy.”

She smiles, almost proudly before looking around the room. “Yeah.”

“I’ve not actually ever been to a speakeasy.” You admit, but you don’t know why.

“No? That surprises me. You seem like the person to be in places she shouldn't be.” She jokes.

That makes you laugh, louder than you intend. But you can tell she's proud of herself.

You take another sip of your drink. You can feel the way she watches your side profile. “I’ve been away for a little while. In the county, looking after my aunt. No time to sneak into illegal bars.”

She nods. “Family’s important.” But for some reason it feels like she doesn't believe you. Like she can see right through your lie, but if she does, she doesn't say anything.

A comfortable silence falls over the pair of you, instead the music of the band fills the space. You catch a few of the guests looking your way. Looking at the pair of you. One woman leans over to her friend and whispers. Not caring how obvious it is that she's clearly talking about you.

“Do you come here often?” You ask, before crossing your legs. Trying to ignore the eyes.

“Erm, you can say that.”

Esme suddenly appears behind the bar with a glass and a rag in her hand.

“Usual, boss?”

Boss? Why would she call her boss?

“No, I’m good. Thank you, Es. I’m leaving in a minute.”

A tinge of disappointment fills you when you hear that.

She nods her head to your glass. “Can I get you another?”

You should decline, tell her thank you, but no thank you. There's something about her that screams trouble. The cockyness, the suits, the girls staring at her as they pass. You just can’t put your finger on it. On her. Truth is you want to put your hands all over her.

“Yeah,” you tilt your head. “Thank you.”

But when do you ever listen to your head?

“Another old fashioned?” Esme asks as she throws her rag over her shoulder.

“Please. Thank you.” You smile at Esme.

The girl starts to prepare your drink, leaving you and the beautiful brunette alone.

“Am I allowed to know your name?” The brunette smiles.

You instantly feel a little ashamed that you've accepted a drink off the girl and haven't even introduced yourself.

You tell her, she repeats it. You hate the way your body responds.

“And yours?”

“Alexia.”

“That's a pretty name.”

“Are you flirting with me?” She smiles coyly. Smiling with amusement at the way you roll your eyes.

God, she’s cocky.

“So, this date.” She smirks as she leans closer to you, you can smell her perfume, the same one she wore that day you bumped into her. You can’t stop your nose as it tries to inhale the aroma deeper. Pull yourself together.

“It's a date now?” You chuckle amused, “I wasn't aware it was a date,”

“Yeah, why not? You don’t think you'd have a good time with me?” She challenges.

Oh, you know you'd have a good time with her. Too good of a time.

“That depends.” You shrug before drinking the last sip of your drink.

“On what?” She leans even closer. You feel the press of her knee on yours but she doesnt move it, she lets it settle there. You can feel the heat radiating from her skin.

“If all those other girls will be joining us.” You say as your eyes move over to the gaggle of women that linger near the doorway, clearly waiting for her.

She looks over to where your eyes linger. Her sharp jaw turns into a coy smile, as she gently shakes her head. “Those are my friends.”

“Bullshit.” You said it plainly.

Alexia’s eyebrows shot up in shock, letting out a throaty laugh. “I nearly forgot about that dirty mouth of yours.” She husked as her eyes shamelessly lingered on your lips.

You weren't sure if it was the alcohol, or the way her piercing hazel eyes bored into yours, that had a fierce heat traveling through your body and straight to your cheeks.

Esme came over with your fresh drink, placing it between you and Alexia.

“Sorry to interrupt, boss, but your car’s outside.”

“Thank you, Es.” She doesn't take her eyes off of you.

“Better not let your friends wait any longer.” You tease, but you find yourself sounding more annoyed than you intend. Maybe because you were. Why?

“Think about where you want to go for our date.” She says as she stands up.

You shake your head and a small chuckle leaves you. This woman was so full of herself.

“I’m not a cheap date.” You warn. Not that you’re actually agreeing to a date.

She gives you a flirty smile, “Good, I don't like cheap things.” She smirks before she takes your hand and brings it to her lips. You hate the way your breath hitches just slightly in your throat, but her full lips feel so right on your skin, you nearly don’t realise she’s holding the moment a beat longer than you what's appropriate.

Not that you minded one bit.

“I’ll see you soon.” She murmurs near your knuckles, her breath hot on your skin. Then she turns around to leave.

You already miss her presence as you watch her walk towards the door where Patri waits with her jacket, holding it open for her to slip her arms through and brushing off the invisible dust from her shoulders.

You can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes when you watch the women shamelessly throwing themselves at Alexia when she greets them. One of the women forces the fakest laugh you'd ever heard that you internally grimace.

You scoff. “Idiots.” And grumble under your breath before you take a large gulp of your drink.

Esme smiles to herself as she polishes a glass. Witnessing the jealousy that steams from your ears.

Alexia gives you one last look before one of the girls links her arm with hers. Then she’s gone.

“Oh, my god. I’m so sorry!” Jana rushes over, panic on her face. “I bumped into an old friend in the washroom and was just catching up.” She sits back on the stall Alexia just was.

You miss her lips. Get a grip.

“I didn't miss anything did I?” She puffs out a few hard breaths, you realise she must have actually ran back. You feel slightly bad that you didn't even realise she had been gone the whole time.

“No, no. I was fine, the band kept me entertained.” You reassured her.

Jana gives you a bright smile, you can see the alcohol has flushed her cheeks and neck. Was that a new hickey on her neck?

“So, got cosy with that friend of yours?” You tease before poking at the now red mark on her skin.

The young brunette couldn't hold back the shy smile, breaking into a fit of giggles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her already red cheeks blush even harder.

Jana jumps out of her seat and grabs your hand. “Let's dance!”

You nod. “Let me grab the tab.”

You call Esme over so you and Jana can settle your bill. The young girl smiles as she approaches. “What can I get for you?”

“Can we grab our tab please.”

“That's already been settled.”

What?

“Erm, we haven’t paid.”

Esme smiles at the confusion on your face. “Alexia has. And anything else you order tonight. It's already settled.”

“Ohh, erm, okay. Thank you.” You nod slowly.

“Can I get you anything else?” She asks.

You look down at your drink, you've only drunk a mouthful. And you wouldn’t take more just because it's there.

“No, that’s great, thank you. Wait, Esme? If you see Alexia can you tell her I said thank you.”

Esme gives you a polite nod and walks away.

“How much is it?” Jana asks as she starts to open her clutch.

“It's been paid for.”

“What? By who?” She looks at you, just as confused as you just were.

“A friend.” You smile as you hand over your half-drunk drink for Jana to finish.

“A friend? You made a friend while I was gone?” She teased before she brought the glass to her mouth.

“I could have made a house in the time you were gone.” You joked.

Jana rolled her eyes, slightly embarrassed and a little proud. “I’m sorry. But she was hot!”

“Jana!” You gently slapped the girl's shoulder, both laughing like school girls.

You finished the last of the brown liquor before Jana grabbed your hand and dragged you to the middle of the dance floor, slotting you between bodies. You could feel the hot flush in your cheeks as the alcohol swam through your veins. You felt loose, happy, and so unbelievably free.

You brought your knuckles up to your lips, the very same knuckle Alexia’s mouth had been. You gently grazed your bottom lip exactly where she had lingered. It was as if you could still feel her there. Burning your skin.

Yeah, she was definitely trouble.

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