Stay Here Tonight

By Cynthia Dane and Hildred Billings

Lonely Lydia has little to look forward to during her long days working at the local LGBT resource center. Except greeting multimillionaire heiress Maxine Woodward, who drops by every week.

But Maxine could barely care who Lydia is. Maxine's a faraway dream, the ultimate fantasy for young lesbian Lydia. When she attends a high-class fundraiser at Maxine's country manor, the last thing Lydia expects is for her dreams to come true!

Dancing. Flirting. And a one-night stand that leaves more than her heart racing and her body shaking.

But the fantasy comes to a halt when Maxine tells her young lover to leave. Now. Because Maxine Woodward does not let girls spend the night.

MAXINE WOODWARD

Fresh from the most toxic divorce that side of the Sierra Nevadas, Maxine is the last person looking for love. Lust? Yes. Most definitely. Sex is the only thing that keeps Maxine distracted from ex-wife Penelope long enough to function.

Lydia was supposed to be just another one-night stand. Until the society pages misprint that they're dating. Then all hell breaks loose - both in Maxine's legal life, and in her heart.

Will these two finally admit that there's something more there? Or will Maxine's obstinate personality and Lydia's nerves get in the way of something special?

First step? Staying the dang night.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barachou Press
• Release date: Aug 11, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386539223

Book preview

STAY HERE TONIGHT

Cynthia Dane + Hildred Billings

BARACHOU PRESS

STAY HERE TONIGHT

Copyright: Cynthia Dane & Hildred Billings

Published: March 20th, 2017

Publisher: Barachou Press

This is a work of fiction. Any and all similarities to any characters, settings, or situations are purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

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Stay Here Tonight

Chapter 1

The best part of Lydia’s job was how often Maxine Woodward came in.

She was a legend around that sunny part of California. The Woodwards were already rich when Maxine was born, making her an heiress in her own right. Except it was what Maxine accomplished after college that changed the family fortunes. Now they were one of the top three richest families in a county that already boasted its share of multimillionaires.

These days, Maxine spent most of her time fielding charities and turning herself into a west coast Kathryn Alison with the money she accrued every day thanks to smart investments. Whoever Kathryn was. Lydia didn’t bother with the society pages, particularly those from New England. There was enough scandal coming from Hollywood.

In contrast, Lydia Kellerman was nobody special. Student loans from a college nobody had ever heard of because it never made lists – not even the worst lists. A degree that sounded great at the time, but had so far landed her exactly two jobs, neither of which paid enough to get rid of those loans. A tiny studio apartment above a greasy restaurant and adjacent nail salon. No car, no license. Not even Lydia’s face was anything marvelous. Oh, she didn’t make people cower in fear and shield their eyes when she walked into a room, but like her alma mater, Lydia was not someone anyone knew.

Which probably explained why Maxine never seemed to know who she was, even though they saw each other once or twice a week for the past few months.

Lydia co-ran the front desk of the LGBT resource and social center, a position that was often called volunteer during the leaner months. So whenever Maxine entered, her golden sunglasses gracing that sharp nose, Lydia was the first one she saw. In return, Lydia was the first one to have a heart attack.

Because Maxine was the definition of ridiculously hot.

Age and money had been kind to the thirty-three-year-old businesswoman. Mostly the age, but the money certainly helped tailor those clothes and frost those tips. Not a single day arrived where she didn’t sport a plain, dark T-shirt and slacks combo. If it wasn’t at least eighty degrees outside, she’d throw a blazer on – otherwise Lydia made an ass out of herself by staring at the hint of cleavage poking out of those V-necks. I’m so pathetic. That’s what she thought one otherwise sleepy Wednesday afternoon, when Maxine strolled through the glass doors, one hand hanging in her pocket and the other carrying a manila folder full of information she doubtlessly needed to trade with the head of the resource center.

Maxine didn’t always come for meetings. She taught personal finance classes aimed at one of America’s most economically vulnerable groups and often gave free seminars regarding small business and entrepreneurship. She was on the board of directors for the Pride committee and had been the Grand Marshall twice out of the past seven years. No wonder she doesn’t remember me. She’s so busy…

Once Lydia realized her crazy crush was heading straight for her, she forced her spine straight and pushed her thin brown hair behind her ears. Why had she worn it in a messy bun that morning? My glasses! They’re so ugly!

Ms. Woodward! Nope, nope, nope. Lydia needed to dial that shit back before she embarrassed herself. I didn’t expect to see you today.

Maxine lifted her sunglasses up, but her eyes were focused on the topmost paper in her folder. Is Francis in?

Uh… no. The director’s still at lunch.

Finally, Maxine glanced at her. Amber-hued eyes full of judgmental ire. Great. Some messenger was about to get shot.

In that case, the folder flipped shut, and Maxine was back to looking away from Lydia, I’ll go find her wherever she’s having lunch. This is that important.

I… Even if she knew where the hell her boss was, Lydia couldn’t say she was comfortable sending Maxine after her. I honestly don’t know where she’s having her lunch.

The cold pause hanging between them like an icicle ready to crash into the desk made Lydia wonder what the hell she had done wrong this time. It was a joke, I assure you.

Oh.

Maxine pulled the folder off the desk. If you see her come in, tell her I’m in the classroom and that I want to see her as soon as she can.

Yes, Ms. Woodward.

Thank you. Those other-worldly eyes looked down at Lydia’s nametag. Oh my God. It’s right on my boob. She’s looking at my… never mind. Lydia.

The woman was gone within a few more seconds. Lydia exhaled a sigh of relief. As much as she loved gazing at both Maxine’s front and back, talking to her was a true test in self-preservation. Lydia couldn’t stand the way her mouth went dry and the rest of her body staged a coup so she could get so turned on she wanted to run home right now.

Fuck me, Lydia muttered. For all the good Maxine did for the community and parts of America at large, she was an ice queen from top to bottom. Even her students commented that they were intimidated by her frank manner of speaking and her rigid posture – she reminded them of the surlier substitute teachers they had as children. Lydia had never seen a woman on Maxine’s arm, even though the businesswoman was as gay as the Pride flag. The woman had published a book about lesbian businesses in North America. Lydia often imagined going up to the author and asking her to sign a paperback copy, but so far Lydia only had the e-book and, unfortunately, was too chickenshit to ask anything other than, "How can I help you today?

Also unfortunately for her, that did not get Meet me in the back room sans your panties, Miss Kellerman, because Lydia would not pretend to be a blushing virgin even for the cost of her student loans.

Okay, maybe blushing. Not a virgin, but definitely blushing whenever Maxine was around.

You’re drooling again, a voice hissed behind her.

Lydia nearly leaped out of her seat. Her chair spun around, taking her for a ride along with it. There was Joanie, the other day-shift manager of the front desk who often did odd jobs around the place, leaving Lydia to fend for herself more often than not.

Once her heart attack abated, Lydia said, I am not.

Joanie hopped into another aging swivel chair, crossing her sweater-covered arms and puffing out her cheeks in disbelief. You dirty liar. Every time Maxine Woodward comes in here, your brain pops out of your ear and scuttles off to parts unknown. You’ve got it bad.

Lydia could salvage some pride from this situation, yes? Have you seen her?

I’m not the one drooling over a rich bitch. Joanie caught herself. Butch. Sorry. Rich butch.

God. Lydia slumped down in her chair and flung the back of her hand against her forehead. "I would like the most stereotypically lesbian woman on the block. My mother was right when I came out to her. I’m going to marry a woman wearing a tux."

Isn’t that a good thing? From what you say about your mother, she’s all about you wearing that big white wedding dress and pairing you up with a masculine partner.

Pretty sure someone like Maxine isn’t what she had in mind.

Yeah, but Maxine is rich as fuck. Your mom would make an exception for that.

My mom is in denial, and there’s not much more to say about that. Lydia turned around and leaned against the crescent-shaped desk. Stop picking on me, eh? It’s never gonna happen.

No. Probably not. Great. Thanks, Joanie. She’s notorious for sending girls packing. Remember Ramona?

Vaguely.

Last time I saw her at a drinking party, she confessed she slept with Maxine a couple of months ago.

Lydia was sick with both curiosity and rancid jealousy. Who the fuck does Ramona think she is? Lydia barely remembered the young woman. Whatever! That would show her!

Said it was some of the best sex of her life.

Lydia glared at her coworker.

Then our champion of justice told her to get the fuck out right away. Like, not even five minutes after they were finished comin’. I hear that’s a pattern for Ms. Woodward.

She does come off as rather distant.

Distant? Lyds, honey, Maxine is what we hussies call a one-night stand addict. Great if you don’t actually have to see her again, terrible if you live in the same neighborhood, or, uh…

Or what?

Or if you see her at the resource center every week.

Didn’t I say that it’s never gonna happen? I don’t have to worry about her rejecting me afterward and making things awkward. Lydia readjusted her glasses. Because she never notices me to begin with.

"Just saying. There might come a day when she does notice you."

Lydia rolled her eyes. Yeah, right.

Then her eyes settled on Maxine sitting in a darkened classroom, the blinds opened to show her svelte figure slumped over the large conference table in front of the whiteboard. She lazily flipped papers over and highlighted sentences here and there. Her eyes were hardly focused on her work. Whatever she thought about, it was not plans for the upcoming fundraiser she was throwing for the foundation.

A part of Lydia wanted to pretend that Maxine thought about her. About asking her out. About breaking a pattern of behavior that could not have been healthy. Because while Lydia would never pretend to know much about Maxine’s personal life, she had a feeling a woman didn’t indulge in endless streams of one-night stands without something eating her subconscious.

Still… would it be totally terrible to be one of those one-night stands? That was the stupid thought Lydia had before her boss walked into the building, back from her lunch break.

Maxine glanced in Lydia’s direction. Hello, Ms. Kellerman. Still wearing those panties, I see. Lydia choked on her own spit. Joanie giggled behind her.

Chapter 2

Maxine wanted a drink. A hard one. Now.

Her lawyer had advised her against drinking on this important day. After three years of fighting both in and out of mediation, courtrooms, and the backs of country clubs, not only was Maxine Woodward legally single again, but that fuckhead ex-wife of hers was finally getting her shit out of the house.

The crap was piled in a guestroom Maxine never went in. She barely let her maid go in there, other than to air the place out and to make sure Penelope’s shit was dusted on a regular basis. Fuck her, fuck her belongings, and fuck her again. No one would say that a divorce that took three years to finalize was amicable, especially when no children were involved, but Maxine and Penelope had managed to take it to a new crazy level.

Okay, Penelope had done it. That conniving woman that Maxine couldn’t believe she had ever loved, let alone enough to marry the day gay marriage was once and for all legalized in California. They had been happily together for two years by that point. Maxine had carved herself a niche as a trailblazing leader of gay rights. It seemed natural to join one of the mass-marriage ceremonies taking place at City Hall. They had a private ceremony a week later, but that was the beginning of the end.

Ten months later, Maxine found her wife in the arms of their accountant. More like beneath his dick, but you know, whatever. Two months after that, one week shy of their first wedding anniversary, Maxine filed for divorce because she knew her marriage was past the point of repair. Penelope had never shown remorse for what she had done. As it came to light during those lengthy divorce proceedings, Ms. Penelope Amarillo had a slew of lovers behind Maxine’s back. No wonder she was often too exhausted for marital sex.

Maxine made up for it, though. As soon as the relationship was officially over, she started her new life as southern California’s most promiscuous lesbian.

She had gone without, recently. Her mind was too troubled by upcoming dates. Maxine did not want to spend her Friday afternoon sitting on the balcony. Hard to find it peaceful when a snake slithered through the house, grabbing this, taking that, and pretending that a police officer was not necessary.

Because when Maxine said it wasn’t amicable? She meant she filed a divorce for one specific reason.

Penelope was a mean, nasty woman, and she dared to stand up in court to say that the one scar she got from Maxine was anything but self-defense. She came at me like a lion, your Honor! I thought she was going to kill me! Rape me! You should have seen her! Maxine had to spend thousands of dollars for experts to take the stand and