Fire and Water

by Amanda Kayhart

  What an irresistible combination.

  “I suppose.” Diane dropped her head to the side, moaning as she surrendered to the peppering of kisses Michelle gave her along her throat. “But I’m going to blame you if it doesn’t turn out right.”

  “For this,” Michelle said, setting her throaty purr at Diane’s ear, “I’ll gladly accept the blame.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Experiencing autumn approach along the northern shores of Lake Champlain was inspiring. The air sagged, cold, damp and heavy. The Green Mountains transformed into a viridescent canvas splashed with fiery paint. Diane loved fall and its vivid atmosphere, perfect for writing. Over the last few chilly nights, Diane lit the fireplace and wrote late into the night, sipping mugs of hot apple cider, the spicy zest of cinnamon and cloves keeping her fresh and going. The days of her sabbatical were slipping by faster than Diane preferred. Her novel, though she made generous strides since arriving in Vermont, still had a good chunk left to go—including the elusive ending Diane had yet to nail down. But if she planted her butt in her chair, trusted her creative process, and focused on her word count goals, she’d have her book completed and ready by the beginning of October.

  If only her brain could’ve stuck to the same darn plan.

  Instead of thinking of Michelle. Kissing Michelle. Fantasizing how good Michelle’s lips felt as they slid meticulously, and hungrily, down her throat. Or how Michelle’s strong body felt, pressing up against hers. The memory alone left Diane flustered and hot.

  Since that last evening together, they’d spoken through dozens of texts back and forth, little flirtatious messages and cute emojis, but Michelle was busy for the last couple of weeks, and Diane respectfully gave her space. Diane clearly needed some space of her own—time by herself to cool down and recuperate from their arousing encounter. Only a few nights together and Diane was already attuned to Michelle’s company. Having someone to cook for. Care for. And the kissing wasn’t bad either. Okay, the kissing was downright incredible, and Diane was quickly losing her head over this woman—evidenced when Michelle messaged her about an art festival on Saturday, asking her to meet her there. Diane accepted the invite instantly, smiling giddily as she replied.

  When the weekend arrived, Diane was initially nervous. But standing at the mirror earlier, dressing herself up for Michelle—choosing a cute tan sweater dress, plaid hoop scarf, and a pair of over-the-knee boots to, hopefully, knock Michelle’s socks off—Diane felt more exuberant than anything. Because now, there was no denying her crush and how Michelle made her feel. Thinking back to her conversation with Maureen a few weeks back, why shouldn’t she relish having a beautiful woman put a skip in her step? Diane spent the better part of her marriage with someone who only made her feel frustrated and ignored. Like a cheap, undervalued accessory to Nora’s success.

  “I deserve to be happy,” Diane encouraged herself in the driver’s seat, following the directional commands on her phone and finding a place to park. “Yes. Happy and hopeful and—horny.”

  Diane laughed out loud as that last word snuck out. If Maureen could see and hear her today, taking her happiness by the wheel and steering it wherever she desired. Her best friend would be proud.

  In Burlington’s South End, the streets were chock full of art studios, eclectic eateries, and old industrial buildings, enlivened with bright and bold murals. Autumn was officially here, and Vermont was the place to be, the sidewalks brimming with people, pushing strollers and walking dogs, enjoying the weather under a canopy of golden trees. Exiting her car, the smooth indie music pumping in the air led Diane, and she strolled towards her destination, where she was greeted by an archway of red and orange balloons, and the Art on Fire banner waving in the wind.

  The parking lot of Bayside Brewery was loaded with food, art, and beer tents. A mob of people gathered around the beer garden, filling their clear, plastic cups with all different ales, a variety of vibrant tones of ambers and golds. Diane smiled. This festival was certainly up her alley, Diane thought as she wandered around. But where was Michelle? Diane hadn’t received a reply to the text she’d sent when she arrived. Finding Michelle in this scene would be a challenging feat, but as Diane scouted around, she laid her eyes on a familiar face of someone who might help.

  The line extending from The Bloated Goat was long. The scents of sweet sauerkraut, hot horseradish and salty corned beef poured from the truck’s open-air window. The spicy kick of cayenne pepper joined the aromatic arrangement. “The Flaming Rueben” was one of the handful of on-theme specialty sandwiches listed on the truck’s menu board. Waiting in line, Diane gawked as several satisfied customers carried off the sandwiches, between two crisp slices of dark pumpernickel bread. Her mouth was watering.

  “Hey, stranger,” Sawyer called, he folded his arms behind the window with a smile. His red-and-black flannel shirt brought out the auburn tones in his brown beard. His familiar red bandana tied tightly to his head. “Fancy seeing you here. How are ya?”

  “I’m doing well,” Diane said. She eyed the picnic tables beside the truck, not an empty seat available. “Looks like you’ve got your hands busy today.”

  “Totally.” Sawyer nodded, glancing at his two workers preparing food behind him. “This is one of our biggest and busiest events all year. Beer drinkers love their food trucks.”

  “I see that,” she said. “Which is why I don’t want to monopolize your time.”

  “I’ve always got time for you,” he said. “What’s up? You hungry?”

  “No thank you, not at the moment,” Diane said. “I was wondering if you knew where I could find Michelle? I’m supposed to meet her here, but I’m not exactly sure where.”

  “Oh, right. She’d said she invited you here,” he said, leaning closer, a twinkle forming in his hazel eyes. “Speaking of, mind telling me what you did to her?”

  Diane froze. Her throat tightened. “I’m—I’m sorry?”

  “She pranced over to the truck, eight in the morning, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,” Sawyer said, shaking his head with a chuckle. “For a woman who hates mornings, I thought she’d been smoking something with Shawn, but she’s not into that sort of stuff. Then she told me you were seeing each other.”

  “Is that—” Diane choked. “That’s what she said?”

  Having not seen Michelle in a couple of weeks, there was some doubt how things left off between them. Diane certainly enjoyed their evenings together, but it’d been a long time since she’d kissed someone, made-out in a feverish, unbridled frenzy, like they did. Heated hook-ups were not something Diane experienced in this decade, or even the one before that—the last casual encounters she’d had involved velvet blazers, spritzing on too much CK One, and grinding with faceless women to Toni Braxton in an Orlando gay bar. How was she to know if she was doing it right? Or taking it too fast? Slow? Or getting her head wrapped up in someone who didn’t return the same feelings? This situation was incredibly nerve-wracking.

  “Yeah, Michelle said you two have been hanging out.” Sawyer smiled, tapping his fingers on the counter playfully. “So, what have you been up to?”

  “Nothing,” Diane spat out far too quickly. “I mean, not much. A few dinners together.”

  Sawyer grinned. “She said you showed her how to make pie,” he said. “Good thing. I’ve been trying to get her to use her kitchen for years. At least one of us has an effect on her. Whatever you’re doing to her, Diane, keep it up.”

  Diane managed a laugh. “Will do.”

  “And not to bring it up,” Sawyer added, a slight pout forming on his lips, “but how come you’ve been here for weeks and you haven’t made me a single pie, yet? I feel neglected.”

  “You’re absolutely right.” Diane nodded, relieved by the change in subject. “I’ve deprived you. I will get right on that. What kind do you like?”

  “I’m a chocoholic. The more the better.”

  “Chocolate I can do.” Diane smiled and glanced over her shoulder. T
he line getting longer behind her. “I don’t want to keep these people from your delicious sandwiches. Do you know where I could find Michelle?”

  “Go past the performance stage with the live band, a few tents down on the right.” He pointed. “She’s there with Shawn doing glass blowing demos. You can’t miss her. Oh, and Diane?”

  “Yes?”

  “You and Michelle?” He smiled. “I’m glad you’re getting along.”

  “Me too,” Diane said. “It was nice seeing you, Sawyer.”

  “You too,” Sawyer said. He turned and grabbed two wrapped sandwiches, and handed them to the waiting customer by the window. “Have fun. Come back when you’re hungry, and I’ll hook you up with something wicked.”

  Going in the right direction and moving through it were two different things. The festival was an explosion of sights and sounds and people. Vendors, performers, music and local artists—blacksmiths, potters, wood burning creators and other crafters—filled the large commercial parking lot. Diane strolled through, enjoying the chilly, early autumn air, laced with invigorating scents of smoke and fire, as they demonstrated and sold their goods. A community coming together to celebrate the arts and support the local brewery was a beautiful thing, and there wasn’t a single artist Diane wasn’t impressed by.

  Except one.

  One artist in particular was above the others.

  Surrounded by a table full of tools and glass rods, Michelle was perched behind a mounted torch—its flame burning bright and steady, melted marmalade in color—and twisted a small gather of glass into the heat for a crowd of onlookers. Diane squeezed her way closer. With dark, protective glasses over her eyes, Michelle concentrated on her work, her black beanie keeping her hair from her face, a crimson, puffy vest and long-sleeved shirt protecting her from the cold. Her fingers were mesmerizing, and Diane followed her movements attentively, staring at the soft muscle of her forearms tightening and softening as she worked. The careful precision Michelle possessed, rolling the gather back and forth through the sharp flame was exquisite, and a warmth swelled in Diane’s chest as she watched Michelle shape the glass creation.

  “Glass is colorless in its basic form,” Michelle explained, placing tiny drops of colored glass onto the piece. “The colors such as the silver luster I’m adding now, come from concentrations of metals. Elements and minerals react to the heat and give color. Like cobalt blue, for instance, comes from cobalt compound added into the glass melt.”

  For the next half hour, Michelle carefully and delicately added color, used tweezers and shapers to form her small design. This was a totally different experience, watching Michelle doing flamework. The details were beautiful. Delicate. The way Michelle handled the glass and used the flame, talking expertly through the process, and answering questions from the crowd as she made her art was impressive. Michelle was a master of her craft, and Diane was completely in awe.

  Once finished, Michelle possessed an intricate glass owl, with swirls of lavender and silver, with detailed feathers and a tail. Diane wanted to run to her, but when Michelle placed the item in the kiln to cool, she was swarmed with people asking questions and complimenting her work.

  “You going to keep gawking at her like that, or are you excited to see me too?”

  Diane met eyes with Shawn, standing inside the selling tent. He crossed his arms and smirked, his messy head of hair giving his amused expression a youthful charm. She bit her lip in embarrassment and stepped inside.

  “Shawn, hi,” Diane said. “Obviously I’m happy to see you. How are you?”

  “I’m good,” he said. “Glad you found us.”

  “Me too.” Diane weaved through the handful of people browsing the glass, her eyes drifting over to Michelle, still wrapped up in a conversation. “This is quite something. Impressive set up you’ve got here.”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty nice being mobile.” Shawn puffed his chest out proudly as he observed their set up, complete with a small steel-framed furnace and annealer, perfect for traveling. “Best investment we made for the studio by far.”

  “Do you come to this event every year?”

  “We have been,” he said. “One of Sawyer’s good buddies is a tap room manager for the brewery. He hooked us up with the gig. It’s a good way for our little shop to get some exposure. Add some cool videos for social media. That sorta thing.”

  “I bet,” Diane said.

  Out of the corner of her eyes, Diane noticed the crowd dispersing and Michelle heading their way. All her anxiety about seeing Michelle again dispelled in an instant. Michelle’s face lit up when their eyes finally met, and those gorgeous dimples were on full display. Diane never saw Michelle smile like that before. So honest and bright. Diane hoped it had something—or everything—to do with seeing her there.

  “Hey, you,” Michelle said, stepping into the tent, her eyes dipping to Diane’s mouth for a split second. “I was wondering when you’d be here.”

  “Me too,” Shawn whispered into Diane’s ear, “she’s done nothing but pester me every five seconds, asking if I’d seen you yet.”

  “Shut up,” Michelle moaned.

  Diane blushed, watching Shawn’s commentary earn him an elbow jab to the ribs from Michelle.

  “Like you haven’t been texting Travis a million times today.” Michelle rolled her eyes, grabbing her water bottle and taking a hearty sip. Diane watched her wipe her lips with her thumb, an endearing quirk she’d recently picked up on. “Please. You’ve got it bad, honey.”

  “If you’d see him do squats at the gym, you’d have it bad too.”

  Michelle laughed. “I’ll take your word for it,” she said, patting his shoulder. “Can you hold down the fort while I break for five?”

  “Yes, yes,” Shawn shooed them off, “go get your gay on. I’ll be fine.”

  Grabbing Diane’s hand, Michelle led her around the tent, putting their rental van between themselves and the festival for a little privacy. Stepping backwards, Diane’s heart raced as Michelle stepped closer and pinned her against the vehicle. Michelle’s body heat cushioning her against the cold.

  “Hi,” Michelle said, her bronze eyes darkening as her hands fell to Diane’s hips. “How are you?”

  “I’m good.”

  “You look good.” Michelle’s eyes scrolled over Diane’s body. “Really good.”

  “Thank you.” Diane wet her lips, her eyes holding steady on Michelle’s. “And how are you doing?”

  “Better now that you’re here.”

  Diane chuckled. “Laying the charm on thick and quick, I see.”

  Michelle smirked and leaned in closer, pressing Diane harder against the vehicle. Diane swore her knees gave a delicate buckle.

  “Can I kiss you?” Michelle asked, her voice low and seductive, hands trailing up Diane’s side.

  Diane couldn’t formulate a reply, simply pressed her lips to Michelle’s, kissing her slow and deep. Michelle’s tongue was hot and eager, dipping into Diane’s mouth with a throaty moan. How had Diane gone this long in her life and never felt an ounce of this pleasure she’d felt now, kissing Michelle? Diane couldn’t fathom a guess—or even a single, coherent thought—there was only this magnificent woman and how unbelievably good she tasted.

  Gently, Michelle pulled away. A smile spread across her face, her hands hung on Diane’s hips, gentle and affectionate. “I like the way you kiss.”

  Diane smiled in return. A blissful lightheadedness swirled inside Diane’s head, as she tried to steady her breathing. “I can say you have a knack for it too.”

  Michelle swept a few loose strands from Diane’s face. “I am glad you’re here,” she said. “Did you have a look around? What do you think?”

  “I think the whole festival is amazing,” Diane said, reaching out and tugged playfully on the side of Michelle’s shirt, “especially you.”

  “Couldn’t take your eyes off me, eh?”

  “No. It’s impossible not to.”

  “Flamework isn�
�t my favorite. It makes my hands cramp.” Michelle shrugged. “But it’s definitely a crowd pleaser.”

  “I bet,” Diane said, their eyes lingering for a moment. “As much as I’m enjoying our private liaison right now, I don’t want to distract you from your work.”

  “I should get back, I don’t want to leave Shawn hanging. Plus, I’ve got another demonstration to do.”

  “Would you mind if I stuck around and watched?”

  “I was hoping you would.”

  A sultry smile slid across Michelle’s face, and Diane wanted to kiss it right off. What was happening to her? Was this who she was now? A touch-deprived, unquenchable lesbian who couldn’t keep her greedy lips to herself? In her own defense, who could blame her? Michelle kissed like a sex goddess.

  “The festival goes on until dark,” Michelle chewed her lip, “and there’s a fire performance at the end. Will you hang around for it?”

  “Of course, I will,” Diane said. “That sounds fun.”

  Michelle took hold of Diane’s hand and pulled her away from the van. She looked off in the distance nervously, as they walked back. “And I was also wondering if…”

  Diane eyed her curiously. “What is it?”

  “There’s something I’d like to show you,” Michelle said. “Afterwards. Will you come with me? It’s a place close by, just a short walk from here.”

  “Where exactly am I following you to?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  Diane raised a brow.

  “A good one. Promise.”

  ***

  The entertainment lasted through nightfall, and with the darkness swaddling the city, the festival popped in the rich blackness with bursts of bright fire and light. Flameworking occupied Michelle the majority of the time, but Diane didn’t mind. She’d chatted with Shawn when he was available, and watched iron workers at the next tent over, forging intricate roses from sheets of steel.

  But mostly, Diane was captivated by Michelle. Her next design, a black cat with glitzy golden eyes and a crooked tail, was enchanting. As always, Michelle made the work seem effortless, bringing the delicate glass piece to life with precision. Diane couldn’t take her eyes away from her, an occupation that was quickly becoming an indulgent obsession. However, as much as Diane enjoyed studying Michelle as she created, she was mostly excited about spending time together. Alone. And finally discovering Michelle’s elusive surprise.