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Max had thought Thanksgiving to be a difficult holiday in the best of times: disgruntled relatives dug out of the woodworks to come together out of obligation and pretend they were happier with each other than they were. Her own parents, she liked enough, but the aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents from all over the country bursting into her life to argue politics and petty grievances and old grudges left her less than eager to participate. Compared to the atmosphere in the Price-Madsen home though, that seemed like a vacation. And that was before Rachel's cheating came to light, Jefferson's activity increased, and Max's visions of the storm constantly warping.
So while she could appreciate that Chloe and Rachel wanted to look after her, their bringing her here was only agitating her already flickering stress firecracker.
They sat around the kitchen table, David at the head, Max and Rachel on one side, and Chloe and Joyce on the other. David said a short, choppy prayer that only Joyce bowed along with, while Chloe snorted in derision, Rachel wore her fake patient smile, and Max hoped to God—in a sense—that the head of the household didn't grow irate at them. Then, they began to eat. There was no conversation for the first five minutes.
But Joyce seemed determined to have a good family event, said, “I can't tell y'all how lovely it is to see all three of you here together. You're just too good to be fightin', ya know.”
The entire left side of Chloe's face twitched at that, but she held herself in. Max was grateful. However, seemingly undeterred, Rachel replied, “It's nice to have finally cleared the air. Chloe and Max are my best friends, like . . . ever. I think it's fitting we fit into a little trio.”
Chloe was as stiff as rigor mortis. Max noticed David noticing that. But a sideways glance to her right let her know: so had Rachel.
And then Rachel's eyes met hers. Max quickly looked away.
“So Max,” Joyce said, turning her attention, “any plans for winter break?” She pointedly ignored the glares shot between her daughter and husband.
Max wriggled in discomfort. “Not really.”
“Will you be goin' to Seattle?”
“I haven't talked it over with my parents.” She half wondered how their Thanksgiving was going. Had her dad and Uncle Jack started arguing over politics? But then her thoughts drifted to everything happening here in town . . . everything she couldn't leave behind over winter break. There was another conversation she'd have to figure out. Her stress continued to mount.
She felt Rachel's hand on her thigh and froze. Joyce said something, then Chloe said something, then David; Max couldn't make out any of it. While all their attention was on each other, she was trapped staring at Rachel, who mouthed, You okay?
She was . . . she was still checking up on Max after all this. The last few days she'd been so distant, and just this simple touch and question had Max wanting to cry. Deciding to be honest, she subtly shook her head. Rachel gave her thigh a squeeze and left her hand there.
Suddenly she cleared her throat, snapping Max back to reality, and said, “This cranberry sauce is really good, Mrs. Price.”
Chloe began to slice her turkey. Joyce replied, “Why thank you, Rachel. And I must say, I do appreciate your help with the turkey.” Chloe began slicing vigorously. Her face kept twitching.
“Do you have a problem with your food, young lady?” demanded David, gripping fork and knife in two fists.
“What makes you think that, old man?”
Max winced as they began to go back and forth with increasing intensity. In response, Rachel began rubbing her hand back and forth, and her core tightened.
Holy shitballs, do not do that here and now! she chastised her body.
Ever perceptive, Rachel noticed her distress. As Joyce put her head in her hands and Chloe and David continued to throw barbs, the young woman mouthed, What's up?
Heat exploded in Max's cheeks, and she wasn't sure if it was from wanting to cry from stress or . . . blushing. She looked at Chloe, growing angrier and angrier the more time went on, and Max thought about Chloe and Rachel, and she thought about herself and Chloe, and further guilt swept through her.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed—and she saw Rachel holding her own and looking at her expectantly. Max looked.
Rachel: whatcha thinking about?
Max contemplated how to respond.
Max: the three of us i guess
Rachel: in what way?
Wowzer did she really wish she hadn't asked that. She couldn't control the flaming heat on her face as she typed back:
Max: idk
Max: how were gonna move forward i guess
Max: we're
Rachel watched her carefully as she typed, and didn't look at her own phone immediately. When she did, she seemed to consider very hard what to say next.
Rachel: you sure it's not
Rachel: . . . i mean . . .
Her heart began to race.
Max: you mean what
Rachel: i'm just saying i'm not blind
Max: about what???
Rachel: . . .
Rachel: okay i know you have a thing for chloe
Rachel: and i do too
Rachel: but here's the thing max
Rachel: i have a thing for both of you
Rachel: and i'm pretty sure you're blushing harder with every text i send
Max was hyper-aware of how firmly Rachel now held her thigh with her other hand. Their eyes met once more—Rachel's so intense and piercing, seeing right into Max's brain and unraveling her from inside. She was distantly aware that Joyce had left the room while Chloe and David were now screaming at each other. Her heart was trying to leap out of her throat, and she was ashamed at the heat that was now pulsing between her legs.
And she knew for a fact that Rachel could tell.
The hand on her thigh slid to her wast, and she played with the band of Max's pants. This okay? she mouthed.
Distantly, flashes of Frank and the pain Chloe was feeling at this very moment begged her to slow down and think. But she also couldn't deny that with everything her body had been feeling the last two months, with how utterly pent up she was, and with how Rachel's eyes softened as she asked permission—Max was weak. She was weak, and she desperately wanted to be touched.
She nodded.
Max faced forward as Rachel's warm fingers slipped under her jeans, watching the other two in the room in case their attention suddenly turned. She had little to worry over though, as the conversation had turned to politics, and would likely take a while.
It took everything in her not to jump when Rachel's hand ghosted over her mound, fingers playing with the fabric of her panties, the sensation sending electricity all through her body. Rachel traced over her clit—Max's breath hitched—but she didn't linger there, moving to cup her pussy and rub it slowly, pressing in just the right way, middle finger playing her entrance through the fabric. Max swallowed down a whimper with a sip of water.
Rachel began moving her finger in slow circles, and Max felt herself clench up, so hard she must have seemed needy. Then again, she was. She reflexively squeezed the hand with her thighs, silently asking for more. When she released, Rachel acquiesced, finger tips slipping under her panties.
As her fingers reached heat, another wave of embarrassment swept through her as she realized just how wet a few touches had made her. Her underwear stuck to the back of Rachel's hand, and she worried how they would cover that up later. But her attention was soon robbed by a gentle circle around her clit, and she had to fight the urge to buck.
She could feel Rachel's focus, trying different movements, pressures, patterns, until she found something that made Max shake. And despite having only just started, she couldn't help the small orgasm that bloomed in her core as she was finally touched where she ached to be touched. The only thing that kept her from moaning was to bite her tongue. And, as mortifying as that was, she wondered if that would sate Rachel, and she hoped it wouldn't. She was still so tense, still shaking, she needed more.
And Rachel wasn't done with her. With two fingers now, she began rubbing the sides of her clit, up and down, dipping down for more, wonderful wetness every so often, and slowly pressing harder and harder. Max twitched against her, eager for more, shame and pleasure blooming together in a strangely delightful whirlpool of feeling inside her. She looked at Chloe, at the rage on her face, the way her brows knitted together, how she shot middle fingers at David who was now shouting as he walked away, and Max began to shake, and Rachel's fingers dipped down inside her and curled, and Chloe finally looked at Max and—
She barely choked down a cry as she came, holding Chloe's stunned eyes the entire time. Her clit pulsed in time with Rachel’s presses, and the lovely, twisting heat the came with them had her eyes glazing over. And all the while, Chloe was watching her! Watching her! Max couldn’t hide the delicious shame that bloomed from that.
Her ears were ringing, her heartbeat thudding in the background, and she almost couldn't hear Chloe's “What—the fuck?”
Max gasped as Rachel's hand slipped out from inside her as she stood, wiping her hand off on a paper towel, before marching over to Chloe and grabbing her face with that same hand to pull her into a deep kiss. And despite the rage still in her face, Chloe moaned into it. Rachel pulled away, teething at her jaw, and hissed, “Have you seen how in love with you Max is, Chloe? Did you see the look on her face just now? Don't you want to make that happen again?”
At that, Max did whimper. And fuck, the look in Chloe’s eyes as her breathing picked up, as she almost glowered down at her, leaning over the table. She asked, “Is that what you want, Max?”
Oh fuck! She nodded.
Chloe's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, ripping her out of her chair and dragging her to the downstairs bathroom, Rachel close behind. Slamming the door and locking it first, Chloe then spun around and backed Max into the sink and began tugging down her pants while the other woman settled on the toilet and began tearing off her own jeans. She was on her knees just as Rachel's hand met her pussy.
“Oh god!” Max gasped as hot breath met her folds. Then an even hotter tongue parted her lips and dragged from her entrance to her clit. Soft at first, but as soon as Max was acclimated, Chloe ramped up, pressing harder, licking faster—she slid her tongue all the way into Max. She had to cover her mouth to muffle her moan. Rachel didn't care, staring shamelessly as she rubbed herself in swift circles.
With one hand, Chloe grabbed Max's ass and pulled her closer, and with the other, she snatched Max's own, gripping the counter, and brought it to her stiff hair. With a moan, she tangled her fingers into those locks, and Chloe let out her own groan of delight. Max tightened her grip, and Chloe groaned louder. “Ch-Chloe!” she gasped.
Both Rachel and Chloe made sounds at that. In the center of her haze, Max thought, What the heck is happening? but then Chloe licked up inside of her again, and the thought disappeared.
It hit her that they were in the privacy of the bathroom—little as they were doing to stay quiet—and fearing no more wandering eyes, she began to buck against Chloe's mouth, tugging at her hair to pull her where she needed, and in return Chloe moaned again and pulled her closer.
“Oh fuck!” Rachel whimpered next to them. To Max's despair, Chloe paused to look at her. But Rachel rushed out, “No don't stop! Keep going! Fuck, keep going Chloe!”
With renewed strength, Chloe flicked at Max's clit, and she began to shake again. “Fuck!” she gasped.
“Just like that!” Rachel urged.
Chloe moaned.
Max pitched over the edge, Heat burst from her center and stretched all throughout her body, stars and lights splayed out across her vision, and she shook and shook and shook till her legs gave out and she collapsed onto Chloe. She started to apologize, but Chloe was laughing and kissing her hair and her cheeks and her lips, and Max parted her lips and slipped her tongue into her mouth without a second thought. All the guilt she'd felt when Rachel touched her, but here she was kissing Chloe like it was the most normal thing in the world.
But then Chloe gasped and sighed into Max's mouth. Rachel had latched her teeth onto her kneck, and as she released she said, “Good girl, Chloe. Now you need something, don't you.” Max pressed her lips to Chloe's chest as another moan escaped both of them.
Max knew what she was grateful for this Thanksgiving: that her period was late.