Natalie worked late into the night, her mind a swirl of deadlines and unresolved tasks. It wasn't until two in the morning that her phone buzzed.
"Dreamt of you. Goodnight."
The weight of the day seemed to melt away as she read the message, its simplicity almost surreal against the quiet hum of the office. Chloe's words were like a soft breath on a cold night, gently sweeping away the tension in her shoulders. Natalie's mind drifted to memories of Chloe curled up in her arms, the comfort of her presence turning even the stark office lights into something warmer.
Their relationship had always been on Natalie's terms—she was the one who reached out, the one who set the pace. Even now, she didn't immediately respond. These late-night messages were like a playful game Chloe had learned Natalie enjoyed. It was just one of those little things Chloe did to keep things interesting.
The next time they saw each other, Natalie couldn't resist. She grinned and teased, "So, what did you dream about me last night?"
Chloe's eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in closer, her lips curling into a playful smirk. "Kiss me, and I'll tell you."
Without a second thought, Natalie pulled Chloe onto her lap and kissed her, the warmth of it settling deep inside her chest.
Chloe was perfect. And Natalie sometimes wondered how someone could be so effortlessly in tune with her. Was it a skill she'd perfected over time? Or was it just how Chloe was? She thought back to all the whispers she'd heard about women like Chloe—how often those relationships ended in scandal or heartbreak. But with Chloe, Natalie never had to worry.
Chloe was careful, considerate, and steady. Too steady, sometimes. That perfect control, that ability to stay composed, made something stir uncomfortably inside Natalie.
She laughed at herself, shaking off the feeling. What was she worried about? She wasn't like those other women. She was single, beautiful, and this… whatever this was, it wasn't serious. It was just a passing thrill—a new experience, a brief adventure. Nothing to get hung up on.
It was a transaction, simple as that. Nothing worth overthinking.
"I'm hungry."
Chloe had just been about to leave for the club when the message popped up.
"What do you want to eat?"
The reply was almost instant, as if Natalie had been waiting with her phone in hand. "Not sure. Have you eaten yet?"
Chloe paused for a beat, then smiled and kicked off the heels she'd only just slipped on.
"How about I make you some congee?"
It wasn't the first time she'd offered. Natalie remembered the last time she'd driven Chloe home. Chloe had asked, almost shyly, if she wanted to come inside. Natalie had been predictably adorable—outwardly composed, but with a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. Like a child torn between curiosity and doubt. Chloe had simply laughed, leaned in to kiss the corner of her mouth, and waved goodbye.
Here's a revised version of your text, polished to better align with the stylistic conventions of contemporary American web fiction—especially in the romance genre. The tone remains intimate, with smooth pacing, casual wit, and emotional undercurrents made just a bit more vivid for clarity and flow.
Among Chloe's regulars, Natalie was surprisingly low-maintenance.
Over a month of seeing each other, she kept to a rhythm—two, maybe three messages a week. She never pried, never pushed. The most impulsive thing she'd done was drag Chloe into a bathroom stall once, and maybe, maybe fall asleep next to her—twice—on a lazy weekend.
Clean, gentle, generous—and most importantly, never nosy. For Chloe, it was the perfect setup. Any other time, she would've rated the whole arrangement a solid ten. No strings, no drama. Wasn't that the dream?
But this particular client—polite, spoiled, prone to sulking and shoving her up against the wall when irritated, all flushed cheeks and shaky hands as she handed over the room key—
How was anyone supposed to not get attached?
Chloe waited a few minutes. When no reply came, she smiled to herself and sent another message.
Black bean, longan, and red date congee. How does that sound?
Ten minutes later:
I want shrimp and crab congee.
Chloe's apartment was small—a simple one-bedroom clearly lived in by one person. But despite its size, everything had its place. Compact living, perfected. The building itself was older but spotless. Orchids bloomed on the balcony, and little pothos plants hung in corners and clung to shelves, giving the space a quiet pulse of life.
Natalie's coat hung beside Chloe's on the rack. Through the glass kitchen door, Chloe moved with easy rhythm.
Natalie found herself watching—really watching. Here she was, in her… what? Lover's home? It was the closest word she had, even if it didn't feel quite right. And yet, the image of Chloe cooking in comfy loungewear, hair loosely tied back, stirred something foreign but warm. Something like comfort.
She'd been told to wait on the couch.
Her gaze landed on a cloth doll propped against the back cushion. Homemade, clearly. A little girl in a dress. Bored, Natalie leaned in for a better look. Something about it was oddly familiar. She thought about picking it up but hesitated. Felt too personal.
Chloe came out of the kitchen, now in a soft cashmere sweater, wide-legged pants, and slippers. She was heading toward the fridge when she noticed where Natalie's eyes had landed. For a beat, she stiffened.
Natalie glanced from the doll to Chloe.
"Where'd you get this?" she asked casually.
Chloe opened the fridge but didn't take anything out.
"Do you like it?" she countered.
Natalie gave a half-shrug. "Kind of ugly. But familiar."
The fridge door shut with a quiet click. Chloe bit her lip, a blush rising to her cheeks.
"Hmph." Her voice turned mock-offended, dramatic. "Maybe look harder at who it's supposed to be."
Then she disappeared back into the kitchen.
Natalie couldn't help it—she picked the doll up. The stitching was crooked, the proportions off. But the hair, the outfit… yeah. That was definitely her.
Feeling slightly guilty, she rubbed her nose and followed Chloe into the kitchen, trying to figure out how to make it up to her.
——————————
Somehow, they ended up in the bedroom.
In the damp, lingering haze after climax, Chloe curled around Natalie from behind. Natalie reached for her hand, their fingers locking tightly.
"Do you bring people home often?" Natalie asked, voice light, as if the answer didn't matter.
She felt the faintest tension in the arm draped across her waist.
Chloe rested her cheek against Natalie's shoulder. Her voice was calm, almost contemplative. "No."
Pretending not to be pleased would've been a lie. A quiet thrill bloomed in Natalie's chest, but Chloe didn't elaborate. The question had overstepped a line, and she knew it. She was about to smooth it over when Chloe spoke again.
Warm breath brushed against her neck.
"Usually at this hour, I'm working… or with you. This is the first time I've brought someone home."
Natalie turned, a slow smile tugging at her lips. She kissed Chloe softly, once, twice. "Got it."
They held each other's gaze for a beat too long. Then Natalie leaned in, pushed Chloe gently onto her back, and kissed her again.
The haze hadn't even fully cleared before it began to gather all over again.
In hotel rooms, Chloe was always up first, already dressed. But this morning, in her own apartment, the scent of breakfast reached Natalie before her eyes even opened.
She was wrapped in Chloe's pajamas—soft cotton, a little loose, faintly warm with her scent. It wasn't the heady perfume Chloe wore to the club. This was gentler—soap, clean laundry, something just… Chloe. It settled around Natalie like a comfort she didn't know she needed.
Chloe appeared from the kitchen with a glass of warm milk. The V of her fitted sweater dipped just enough to draw the eye, and Natalie's gaze lingered.
Sweaters definitely did her justice.
"Good morning," Chloe said, smiling with her whole face—eyes soft, curved like crescent moons.
Breakfast was simple: eggs, toast, and milk. Natalie, predictably drawn to sugar, reached for the jam and managed to smear some across her arm. She scowled, holding it up with a helpless expression.
Chloe walked over. Natalie expected a napkin—maybe a soft laugh.
Instead, Chloe took her wrist and leaned in, tongue gliding slowly along the sticky smear. She paused to glance up, eyes gleaming with mischief, lips brushing skin in a way that was anything but innocent.
Natalie's breath caught. "No—" she stammered, trying to pull away. "I have to go to the office."
But Chloe caught her other hand, guiding it to her chest, her gaze dark and steady.
"Didn't you just think about touching me?"
And that was it. Natalie was undone.
She made one last, half-hearted protest—hands braced against Chloe's shoulders, breath shaky. "I need to change—"
But there was no escaping the inevitable.
Chloe's hand slowly slid from Natalie's waist to between her thighs. "I've already ironed your suit," she murmured.
Natalie clung to Chloe's shoulder, breath coming in soft, broken gasps. Still trying—barely—to resist, she mumbled, "I need to change."
Chloe's gaze was heat itself as she slipped her hand between Natalie's legs, pulling her close, breath warm against her ear. "What are you so afraid of, baby? Didn't you just spend the night at someone else's place?"
Natalie left in a flustered rush, cheeks burning. The suit Chloe had pressed seemed to carry her teasing gaze, and Natalie couldn't sit still the entire day.
That woman.
———————————
The long-term hotel key card was no longer needed. Chloe's home had become the most comforting place for tenderness—a place so soothing, so complete, that Natalie found herself growing increasingly uneasy, overwhelmed by Chloe's quiet attentiveness, her calm, her thoughtfulness. Chloe was sincere without pretense, warm without effort. The way she cared, the softness in their time together—it was impossible not to grow attached.
But if this kept going… wasn't it just ridiculous?
She was thirty now—not some reckless twenty-something with time to waste. A fling was one thing, a brief indulgence—but to keep going like this? Absurd. It wasn't like she lacked respectable partners to love, or even lovers with proper jobs and a place in polite society.
At thirty, in the prime of her life, Natalie found herself—again—questioning everything she'd built, everything she thought she knew, just because of Chloe.
She'd even considered just being friends with her.
The thought had crossed her mind. Chloe was, by all measures, someone you could be friends with. She could've kept sending small gifts, just like in the beginning. Maybe share the occasional story from work—those ones too messy or sharp-edged to tell anyone else.
As long as they skipped the last step.
They could've been friends.
Maybe—
But she didn't need more friends.
The early spring sun still carried a chill, wind stirring the tender new leaves on the roadside trees. It had been nearly half a year since she first met Chloe, back in early winter.
Natalie had dropped by to give Chloe a gift card, telling herself she'd just hand it over and leave. Sitting in her car, she went through the whole mental argument again. Better to cut it clean. Leave, and don't look back.
Chloe came down quickly, almost no makeup on. Beneath her coat, she wore a cotton shirt with a Mandarin collar, embroidered with soft blue flowers.
Natalie handed her the card. Chloe lowered her lashes. "Thank you," she said quietly.
But the moment Natalie saw her, she couldn't look away. Her gaze clung to Chloe's face, unable to detach.
Chloe raised a hand to shield herself. "Don't look at me like that—I'm not pretty today." She kept her head down, cheeks visibly flushed through the gap in her fingers.
Natalie didn't answer, just kept staring.
Chloe grew even more flustered and turned to leave.
But Natalie caught her hand on the door handle, leaned in, and kissed her.
The familiarity, the heat—it was thicker than the car's heater. By the time the kiss ended, Chloe's hand had somehow slipped up to tug at Natalie's collar. Her eyes shimmered, heavy-lidded, voice low with desire.
"Stay," she whispered. "Please."
Natalie gently pinched a corner of Chloe's shirt between her fingers and asked softly, "Am I… getting in your way?"
The question made it sound as though all the recent silence—all the unanswered messages and sudden distance—had come from some hidden hardship. She didn't dare meet Chloe's eyes, choosing instead to stare at her own hand. She was the one who pulled away. She was the one who clung. The one who hesitated, who constantly wavered between staying and leaving—and the one who now pretended to be wronged.
Chloe's voice was warm with a smile. "I only have you now."
Natalie let out a small, muffled laugh—quiet and soft, like a shy little creature. When Chloe met her eyes, her own gaze shimmered with something tender and sweet. "Then… when will you come back to me?"
Not knowing how to answer, Natalie buried her face in Chloe's neck and pressed a kiss to her jaw, pretending not to hear.
Chloe indulged her, letting Natalie nuzzle and cling, her tone still gentle, though laced with a quiet helplessness.
"Natalie, I've missed you so much."
Natalie's heart ached and melted all at once. She wrapped her arms around Chloe tightly. "I've been busy… I missed you too."
Chloe ran her fingers gently through Natalie's hair.
And sighed.
"Did I do something wrong?"
Natalie quickly said, "No. Of course not."
But Chloe's voice was distant, uncertain.
"I thought… maybe you didn't want me anymore."
"Natalie, please don't stop wanting me."