by Ronica Black
She patted herself dry carefully with a soft white towel, combed through her hair, and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Danielle’s scent and any reminder of her touch might be gone, trailing down the drain in her shower, but her words replayed. She could despise Danielle and hate everything she stood for, but the truth was that some of the things Danielle had said rang true. That was what angered Sarah the most. She did indeed live in a fantasy world.
Angrily, she turned and stalked into her bedroom. She threw herself down on the bed and stared, hard and cold, up at the ceiling. Her eyes refused to blink and her mind refused to give in. Why couldn’t she let someone in? Why couldn’t she attempt the love and passion she dreamt about? For as long as she could remember, she had avoided opening herself up completely and exploring a part of herself she knew existed. A part that longed to love and be loved. A part that would enable her to share and experience true intimacy with another.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. As her troubled mind searched for answers, it drifted back to her first love, back to Amy.
Sarah had been six foot tall at age seventeen, her hair long and dark, her body fully developed, that of a beautiful young woman. She was popular at her high school, and not through any doing of her own. She was quiet and driven and always politely declined when a boy asked her out on a date. Her goals were her top priority and took precedence over everything else, including a social life. Even though she kept to herself and rarely went out with her peers, there was one person who could get and hold her attention. Amy Chaplan.
Sarah was sitting in history class, frustrated at her teacher, when Amy first walked into her life. She walked in like a fresh spring breeze, hair cut short and too many earrings. She stopped promptly at Mr. Klein’s desk and cocked her head.
“Excuse me?”
Mr. Klein was sleeping, snoring just like he always did after he gave them an in-class assignment. He had exactly four months and three days until he retired with full pension, and he obviously wanted to save his strength for the golf course. He jerked awake, and the majority of the students laughed. Sarah watched intently and then gave a smile of her own as the new student continued.
“Sorry to stir you from your, er, nap, but the office told me to come here.”
Mr. Klein snatched her hall pass and slid on his reading glasses to examine it.
“I can go tell them they’ve made a mistake,” she offered lightly.
“No, no. You’re fine.” He studied her over the lenses. “Sit down in the back there, next to Sarah. Sarah, raise your hand.” He crumpled up the pass. “Sarah will get you up to speed. She’s my number one student.”
The young woman turned around and rolled her eyes before she fastened them to Sarah. Sarah lowered her hand and immediately felt her face heat. The new student slid into the neighboring desk and Sarah caught herself looking at the exposed flesh beneath her torn jeans.
“What the hell is his problem?” she asked, clearly unimpressed with Mr. Klein.
Sarah shrugged. “You want the short or long version?”
They both watched as he removed his glasses and leaned back in his chair to fold his arms across his chest. His eyes fell heavy once again and closed.
“Neither.” She looked to Sarah again and grinned. “I’m Amy.”
“Sarah.”
“Yeah, I know.”
She stood and scooted her desk closer to Sarah’s and then sat down again. Sarah caught her scent and flushed, confused by her reaction.
“Okay, Sarah. Fill me in.”
They were friends from that moment on. They shared many of the same classes, and Sarah found herself spending more and more time with her. Especially after school. Every day Sarah looked forward to hanging out at Amy’s house well into the evening. She hated going home, and Amy’s mother worked so most of the time they had the house to themselves. They did their homework, gossiped, and often even made dinner together.
People began to comment to Sarah on how much more she smiled, how she seemed happier. What was going on? Did she have a boyfriend, was she dating? Sarah simply grinned and shook her head. She knew what was making her happy, but she didn’t understand exactly why. Amy was her new best friend, and that would make anyone happy, wouldn’t it? She thought about how nice Amy looked in her tank top, how good she smelled when she first arrived at school. Those thoughts always brought on butterflies but she forced them away.
One Friday, Amy called her mother at work and asked if Sarah could sleep over. Sarah was near giddy at the thought of spending a whole night alone with Amy. She called home and relayed the plans, though her father sounded too messed up to even realize who he was talking to. She hung up the phone and relaxed, content and comfortable for the first Friday night in years.
“Maybe we should go to your house to get some beer.” Amy raised an eyebrow.
“No way! I’m not going home unless I have to.”
“Come on, it can’t be that bad. Your parents party all the time, how can that be bad?” She chomped on her gum and her blue eyes danced playfully.
Sarah swallowed hard as she thought of her home life. The drunken madness, the mess, the loud laughter and radio. And Scottie. She cringed and fought off angry tears.
“I’m not going home.” Her voice was stern, her throat burning.
Amy’s face softened and she quickly rounded the kitchen counter. “Hey, I’m sorry.” She brushed Sarah’s cheek, causing her to inhale and glance away. Her heart hammered like a rabbit’s.
“Are you pissed off at me?” Amy looked concerned and her hands held Sarah firmly.
Sarah shook her head. “No, I’m just, it’s just…” She couldn’t find the words, and Amy pulled her in for a hug.
Sarah shuddered against her, her heart racing and her mind reeling with craziness. She wanted to feel her bare skin, touch her lips, and hear her sigh. She wanted to hold her so tight that nothing could ever come between them. She wanted Amy for now and for all eternity.
“I just want to be with you,” she said.
Amy released her and smiled. Sarah resisted the urge to trace her fingers up her neck to the numerous necklaces and chokers she wore. When she lifted her eyes, Amy turned her head quizzically.
“Sarah?” She took a step closer and reached for her hand. Hers was warm and soft and inviting. She didn’t wait for Sarah to respond. She lifted Sarah’s hand to her mouth and breathed upon it slowly, delicately, intentionally.
Sarah gasped and tried to pull away, afraid. Amy held on and held her eyes.
“Don’t be afraid,” she whispered. “Do you really want me to stop?” Her lips followed her hot breath, kissing Sarah’s knuckles, fingers and eventually her inner wrist.
“Oh God.” Sarah’s entire body pulsed and pounded. She wanted to run, she wanted to hide, but more than that she wanted to remain.
“Tell me.” Amy dropped Sarah’s hand and stood very still. Her eyes held her magic, her mystique. She was like a spell, a wonderful spell, and it had been cast on Sarah.
“I don’t know,” Sarah breathed. “I don’t know anything.”
“Come on.” Amy reached for Sarah’s wrist and led her down the hallway to her bedroom.
Sarah had been in there many times, and she loved everything about it. The way it smelled, the colors, dark purples and blues. To Sarah, it felt like the home she never had. She could lie in Amy’s bed forever.
Amy switched on her stereo and lit two large candles on her dresser. She turned off her bedside lamp and lifted her shirt up over her head. Sarah glanced away, startled and strangely aroused.
“Sarah?” She moved to stand directly before her. Her hands eased Sarah down onto the bed. “I’m undressing and getting ready for bed.” She pushed down her jeans and then raised Sarah’s chin with a finger. “Don’t you want to watch?”
Sarah stood, alarmed. Amy laughed softly and pressed her back down. Sarah tried to look away from the matching black panties and bra, but Amy wouldn’t let h
er.
“See this?” She dropped her head and ran her fingers over her abdomen, where several horizontal cuts were healing above her panties.
“What is it?” Suddenly Sarah was concerned and worried. Tentatively she reached out, needing to feel the wounds for herself, wanting and wishing that she could heal them.
“Sometimes, when I get upset, I cut myself.” Amy confessed her secret lightly, as if everyone in the world did the same thing.
Sarah met her eyes, confused. “But why?”
“It’s just how I cope.” She held Sarah’s hand and kissed it softly once again. “But you, Sarah. You make it all okay.” She bent down and stroked Sarah’s face. “Do I make you feel like that?”
Sarah nodded. “Yes. You do.”
Amy pulled her up gently and they stood, a breath apart in the candlelight. “Then come lie with me.”
She eased back her comforter and removed her bra and panties with Sarah watching intently. Her breasts were small but full, soft and pale. Pale like ivory, like cream. Her nipples were thick, deep and red, the color of a rose. Cream and roses, cream and roses. It was all Sarah could think of. The contrast was so beautiful, and her body was alive and luminous in the candle light, shimmering and soft like satin.
Amy crawled into the bed and ran her hand up her body, keeping the covers down around her feet. “Please, come lie with me. Please.”
Sarah stood trembling, fear rocketing through her. Her brain screamed and her heart pounded. Not ever had she been so frightened. Not ever. Scottie didn’t even fucking compare.
“I…I,” she rasped.
“Come here, Sarah.”
Somehow her body followed the command. She took three steps and felt the heat flood her cheeks like it was alive and spreading.
Amy reached for her hand and kissed the fingertips. “You don’t have to get undressed. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
Sarah swallowed. Amy’s mouth was warm, wet, awakening. “What do you want?” she asked, desire mounting and slamming throughout her body all the way to the tips of her fingers, melding with the heat of Amy’s mouth.
Amy held her eyes, and her lips parted. Sarah felt her knees buckle as she watched the mouth move and declare its desire.
“I want you to touch me.” Amy held Sarah’s hand and pressed it gently to her chest. “Anywhere.”
Sarah dropped to her knees, too weak to stand. Emotion, deep and fierce and overwhelming, rose up from her insides. She had never felt so alive, so wanted, so moved. Her eyes filled with tears. She wanted to touch Amy, wanted to more than anything in the world. But touch couldn’t be how you showed love. It couldn’t be.
“I can’t.” She pulled her hand away and wiped away her tears, angry, confused. She didn’t want to touch Amy like that, like how Scottie touched her.
Amy sat up and moved to her dresser in silence. She put on a nightgown and stood before Sarah holding another. Slowly and without a word, she undressed Sarah. Sarah’s breath shook in her chest as the gentle fingers removed her clothing. She resisted the urge to run and fought off tears as the gown was placed down over her head. Amy took her hand and led her to the bed, where they both lay down. Amy pulled the covers up over them and then snuggled into Sarah. She held her close and kissed her temple.
“I love you, Sarah,” she whispered.
Sarah clenched her eyes, moved, safe, home. “I love you too.”
After that, Amy never asked her to touch her again. When Sarah spent the night they cuddled up close and fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Their time together didn’t last long. Amy moved away the week before their senior year began. They wrote each other a lot at first, and Sarah thought she would die without her. Time and time again she begged her parents to pay for the bus trip to go visit her, but they refused. Eventually, Amy’s letters stopped coming and eventually, Sarah had to move on with her life. Without Amy. Without anyone.
*
Chan bent down and laced up her sneakers. Straightening, she stretched out her arms and chest and bounced on her toes. The spring weather was warm and soothing, accompanied by a gentle breeze. A perfect evening for a run.
Pushing on her Oakleys, she started off on a trot to warm up her muscles. She rounded the base of the mountain, kicking up dirt in her wake. As she approached the entrance to the dirt path, she gained speed, ready for her physical high. Most days she rode her Harley to the mountain, which helped to milk some of the tension from her core. But since she knew she shouldn’t ride at the urging of the law, her body screamed for some sort of release as she flew up the mountain trail.
The terrain was rough and uneven, switchback after switchback. Her calves tightened as she pushed on, feeling as if they would pop. Her body worked like a well-oiled machine as her heart pumped the drug she craved, the drug she needed. Her eyes focused intensely on the trail and her lungs breathed in the surrounding blooming desert.
Another runner approached from ahead and Chan automatically moved to the right side to let her pass. Settling into a steady pace, she was startled when the oncoming jogger stepped in her way and called her name.
Chan slammed to a stop and nearly tumbled on a loose rock. She angled back and got her balance, trying to catch her breath. The jogger spoke again before Chan could place her.
“Chandler?” The accent was thick and Spanish.
Chan propped her hands on her hips, agitated. “Yeah?” she breathed, shaking out her feet, anxious to continue her jog.
“Why you no call me?”
Chan looked up, recognizing her face. The Latin woman stared at her curiously as Chan tried not to gawk at her olive-skinned body, which was scantily clad in running shorts and a sports bra.
“Uh, hi.” Chan had first met the woman on this trail and should’ve expected they might run into one another. She scowled inwardly as she remembered the numerous messages the woman had left recently on her cell phone. “I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy at work.” It was true, she had been busy. But not too busy to return a phone call.
Despite the unreturned calls, the woman smiled and stepped up to embrace Chan in a lingering hug. Chan’s pulse quickened as she felt the sweat from her warm body.
“Is okay.” She pulled away. “Come to my house now.” Her brown eyes were hungry and determined, looking Chan up and down. She reached up and tugged her ponytail loose, shaking her thick mane free upon her shoulders. “I miss you, Chandler.”
Chan swallowed and realized she was holding her breath. “I can’t.”
Her libido churned like an angry monster, but she didn’t want to see the woman again. Fuck her, yes. But see her, no. And Chan knew at this point she couldn’t have one without the other.
“Why?” The woman frowned and reached up to stroke Chan’s face.
“I can’t. I’m just so busy.” She shuddered with desire and backed away, knowing she needed to flee. Just like she had done countless times before with countless other women. “I’ll give you a call.” She started trotting again, careful not to keep eye contact.
The woman didn’t respond, merely stood watching as Chan gained speed and fled up the trail.
Chan heard her call out in Spanish but she didn’t turn. Her legs kept moving as she pushed the woman from her mind. It was rude to treat her that way, but she had to do what she had to do. The woman wanted more than Chan could give. Chan was saving her pain in the long run.
With that convincing thought comforting her, she continued her run and again felt the sweet release of adrenaline well before she reached the top. Once there, she stopped only briefly to raise her arms in a soothing stretch. The sun was setting and she took in the beautiful outskirts of the city, dimming with the approaching darkness, yet softly glowing from the lingering rays of the sun.
She panned the ground down below and focused on her vehicle, where the Latin woman stood scribbling on a piece of paper. Chan watched her with worry, concerned she might be considering damaging the Durango. Chan kn
ew firsthand that there were few limits when it came to a woman scorned.
The woman finished her writing and moved to tuck the paper under the windshield wiper. Chan walked to the edge of the mountain to get a better view. To her relief, the woman glanced around and walked away, disappearing around the bend. Chiding herself to be more careful with future lovers, Chan picked up her pace and jogged back onto the trail. All the way down, that thought replayed in her mind. Future lovers. A face kept reappearing, remaining, insisting. The only face, Chan realized, she wanted to see. The face of Officer Monroe.
As she hit the bottom of the mountain where the trail flattened out, Chan slowed, moved by the thought of the mysterious cop and wary of the lingering former lover. She eased into a brisk walk and rounded the corner, a little unsure as to what lay ahead. Was the woman still there, waiting, watching, wanting to talk? Her SUV came into view and Chan felt relief wash through her when she saw no one nearby. She fished out her keys and unlocked the door with her remote. Casting a quick, nervous glance around, she retrieved the letter on the windshield and climbed inside, unfolding the paper only when the doors were locked safely around her.
Written in large letters were the woman’s phone number and a simple plea. Por favor, call me. Chan sucked in a shaky breath and crumpled up the message, tossing it aside as she started her vehicle. Her mind reeling, she pulled away from the mountain and noted that a blue sedan did the same behind her. When it finally turned in a different direction, she relaxed and headed home, comfortably basking in the afterglow of her hard run.
Chapter Nine
Sarah sighed and switched off her truck. She sat for a moment, soaking up the warmth from the sun as it heated her vehicle. She was surprised she had come, especially after her unsettling encounter with Danielle the day before. But here she was.
She stared at the sign on the door of suite number four through her windshield. Desert Mountain Professional Group. Her fingers rapped the steering wheel. A quick glance to her wristwatch let her know she was fifteen minutes early, just as requested by the secretary who’d made her appointment. Another sigh, this one longer and deeper.
