A niggle in the back of her mind told her that, yes, Sarah may well have attended. She’d been open to new things, new experiences. Even a naturist resort to feel the sun on her body. Even parachuting although she was scared of heights. Even a snake-handling course, although she disliked the feel of reptiles. But she’d given them a go. And a sexuality class? There was nothing Sarah would have disliked about that. At least, not in the first few years of their relationship.
It was just gone five thirty. She turned the sign to Namaste. Return Again, Friend. The sound of voices made her peer through the glass just as the group of women walked past. Carly was at one end, her curls bouncing as she bounded along in that puppyish way of hers. She was chatting with a woman Freya didn’t recognise. The group moved slowly down the street. In their midst was Lily. Her dark hair was held back by a scarlet scarf, and she was laughing at something someone had said. As Freya watched, Lily placed a hand on the shoulder of the woman next to her and leant in closer to say something. The afternoon sunlight flashed off the silver rings in her ears. If the moment were frozen in a photograph, it would be captioned Fun and Female Friendship: the Building Blocks of a Happy Life.
“So are we going to the pub?” she heard.
“Oh yes!” That was Carly’s voice. “There’s a bucket of wine waiting for me, I’m sure of it.”
Freya moved back from the glass. She didn’t want anyone to turn and see her peeping out from her shop, a woman alone, not part of the group. Sidelined. But the image of them blurred in front of her eyes, Lily most of all. The effortless centre of attention.
She gathered herself, drawing in her strength, her female power, her aloneness. She didn’t need the superficiality and physical excesses Lily represented. She was strong.
Freya quashed the tiny voice that whispered, what would it be like to have Lily touch her skin like that; what would it be like to feel her fingers clasp Freya’s own? What if Lily looked at her, Freya, with those dark, expressive eyes, focused in on her so closely, so entirely. What would that be like?
She swallowed. Tendrils of something long buried stirred in her belly. A warmth, a spreading.
Desire.
Chapter 11
Lily pulled a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt from the back of the wardrobe. She now attended yoga three times a week. Freya had begrudgingly given her the nod to come to an intermediate class, as well as the beginners’ one. Each time she went, more moves came back to her. Muscle memory. It had been a while since her body had been so flexible.
The intermediate class had introduced her to a different group of people. Carly, of course, but she had been pleased to see a couple of women who also attended her sexuality workshop.
Yoga had been an unexpected pleasure in living in Grasstree Flat. She looked forwards to the hour out of her increasingly busy life, an hour when she focused on herself and her body, her wellbeing. She twisted her hair into a messy knot on the top of her head. That was something she always told her sexuality class. Make time for yourself, your body, your pleasure. Get to know yourself. Let your fingers do the walking.
She hadn’t been doing that lately. The last time her fingers had drifted down between her legs in the peace of her own bed, she’d fallen asleep. She’d been so tired after the demands of her workshop and the constant tasks of a new business.
Maybe it was time to practice what she preached in class, and let herself experience more pleasure, sex without guilt or censure or shame. But then, as she told her students, it had to be right for you. Some people found their pleasure in one partner and a lifelong relationship. Others took a new partner often, yet others embraced a polyamorous lifestyle. There was no right way. No wrong way, as long as it was what all participants wanted and freely gave their consent.
The persistent woman from the bushwalking group pushed into her head. Janie. There’d been a spark between them. In Sydney, if she’d been free and available, she wouldn’t have hesitated. Maybe it was finally time to explore some possibilities there.
Leaving her feet bare, Lily trotted down the worn timber stairs and through her shop to the studio. She smiled at her fellow classmates, and nodded to Freya, who stood tall and proud at the front, then Lily took her accustomed place at the rear.
“Namaste,” Freya said. “Welcome. Today, in addition to focusing on core and balance, I want you all to adopt a pose that is comfortable for you. Close your eyes and focus on your breath, in through your nose, hold… and out through your mouth. Expand your awareness along the pathways in your body. Today, I want you to focus on those pathways you may have neglected. Let the energy flow along routes that are less used. Maybe it is an area of your mind, some thoughts you have ignored, a problem unsolved. Maybe it is a physical area, a muscle that is tight, a small ache or pain. Concentrate on that, let the energy flow.”
Lily closed her eyes, breathed in and thought of her energy as a white light ready to be directed at her will. Where would it go? There was only one answer—the one she had been thinking of only that morning. Her pleasure, her sexual nature, was the most neglected part of her right now, despite how she was working to bring out that awareness in others.
Her visualisation settled deep in her belly, between her legs. The white light built to a low, pulsing energy that grew in intensity with each breath until she could barely stand it. For a few moments, she fought it—this yoga class was not the place—but the energy would not be denied. Her nipples tingled against the cotton fabric of her bra, and her pussy lips were engorged and heavy. Moisture pooled between her thighs. She tried to ignore it, focusing on her breath, trying to redirect her energy to other places. But her body would not be controlled; the only thing sucking the energy she was creating was her sex. Her mind and her sex.
With a small sigh, Lily gave herself up to the sensation, and her body swam in liquid heat, filled with a tingle and an aliveness that now threatened to consume her.
Dimly, she heard Freya’s voice, bringing the class back from their inner journeys, back to the yoga studio. She didn’t want to release this discovery, so she wound that energy tight, pushed it deep within, so she could call on it at another time.
She opened her eyes and found herself staring directly at Freya’s intense silver gaze. Two rows of women sat between her and Freya, but the connection strung tight, a shining cord of energy linking the two of them.
But then Freya broke eye content and glanced around the room. “Mountain pose,” she said.
To Lily’s ears, Freya’s voice was rougher than usual, a little hoarse. Had Freya felt that connection too, or was it all in her own head? She mentally shook herself. It was one thing to acknowledge the imbalance in her life that lack of sexual pleasure had brought; it was quite another to project that longing onto her neighbour, an abrasive seemingly asexual woman who had no desire to change that status.
Lily pushed the image of steely eyes and stern face from her mind and directed her thoughts to her own needs. Healing and change. Freya’s words had sparked something, a seed of an idea that unfurled tiny tendrils in her mind as the class progressed.
Two things needed to happen: most immediately, she would explore herself with fingers and toys this evening. No TV, no books in bed, no time on the balcony with a glass of wine. Instead, she would rediscover the physicality of sexual pleasure. Her body hummed in acknowledgment and anticipation.
And the second thing? Maybe that would never happen as it involved Freya. It certainly wouldn’t start today; indeed, it may never get off the ground. The approach would have to be as delicate and light as Dorcas when she balanced on the balcony railing. Lily would have to be careful, subtle, enticing rather than blunt. She would have to choose her words with care.
Lily moved into eagle pose. Her body stretched, her nerves tingled in anticipation. Not today, not tomorrow, but one day soon, Lily would propose to Freya that the two
of them run a yoga and sexuality workshop together.
Over the next few days, Lily bided her time, but it was hard to get Freya alone, and with enough privacy and time to discuss her idea. She hung back after the intermediate yoga class, only to find that Carly, too, was waiting for Freya.
“We’re going for breakfast at the Green House,” Carly said. “Want to come?”
She had a million things to do—a new shipment of books from her favourite women’s publisher had arrived, and her business activity statements were on the verge of being overdue at the tax office. But as she opened her mouth to accept anyway, and the tax office be damned, she caught the tiny tightening of Freya’s lips. Maybe Freya wanted time alone with her friend, or maybe she just didn’t want Lily along.
She declined with a regretful shake of her head, citing those damn tax office forms that wouldn’t wait for breakfast.
“They do the most fantastic chia porridge,” Carly tempted her.
“I know. I’ve had it. Maybe next time.” And Lily walked away, to shower and change, and to move into her day.
Freya was true to her word, and the next morning, Lily found a packet of the Assam tea she had so enjoyed on her doorstep. She picked it up and turned it over in her hands. This would give her the excuse she needed to speak with Freya. After all, the tea was expensive; she must owe her money.
Without waiting to second-guess herself, she took the tea upstairs and grabbed her purse. It was only seven in the morning, but Freya was an early riser and was usually up long before this. She’d heard the light footfalls in the mornings, the sound of water in the shower, and sometimes the soft tones of a meditation chant wafting from the balcony in the dawn.
Freya answered her door after a couple of minutes, long enough that Lily had started to assume she was busy with her morning routine and didn’t want to be disturbed.
“Hi.” She held up her purse. “Thank you for the tea. What do I owe you?”
Freya’s face was expressionless, her posture rigidly upright, at odds with her bare feet and the loose Indian pants she wore. “Don’t worry about it. Enjoy the tea.” The door started to close.
Lily pitched her voice louder against the closing door. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something anyway. A joint venture. Do you have a few minutes?”
Freya’s bark of laughter wasn’t encouraging. It had a sort of resigned coolness, as if anything Lily was to propose were doomed to failure and not worthy of consideration. “I suppose now is as good a time as any.” She held the door wider. “Come in.” She led the way to the balcony, which was still relatively cool in the morning shade.
Lily didn’t wait for an invitation; she sat on the couch, made herself comfortable. A couple of pale-headed rosellas perched in the gum tree opposite, feeding on the flowers. Their blue-and-yellow plumage made bright patches in the grey-green of the leaves.
“I love those birds,” she said. “You don’t see them in Sydney.”
Freya rested her butt against the railing. “You wanted to talk about something?”
“Yes, I do. But first, tell me what I owe you for the tea. If I don’t pay you for it, I’ll feel I can’t ask you to get me some more, and it’s gorgeous.”
Freya shrugged. “If you insist. It’s eight dollars.”
Lily handed over a ten, which Freya pocketed. “I owe you two bucks.”
Lily took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking. Remember last week in yoga, you told us to focus on an area of ourselves that needed attention? Let the energy flow to that place, you said.” Freya nodded, and Lily continued, “Well, there was an area in my life that’s been somewhat neglected of late.” Her pulse juddered at the thought of what she had to say next. “I’ve been neglecting my own sexual pleasure. I’ve been too busy, and then too tired to pursue that part of my life, which used to be such an important one. Indeed, I recognise the irony of teaching others how to expand their sexual pleasure when my own is withering.” She snuck a glance at Freya’s face. It wore a look of cool disinterest. Lily could have been talking about specials in the meat department of the local supermarket.
“When you talked about the energy flow, well, that was the area to which my energy went. Your yoga class revitalised my sexual energy.”
Freya turned away and faced out over the street, as if the conversation were already over. “That’s fine. I’m glad you took something out of the class.”
“It made me think that you and I could run a class together. Yoga for sexual health and wellbeing.”
Freya swung back to face her. “Yoga for what? I don’t think so. I think our teaching methods and aims are completely incompatible.”
“I respectfully disagree. We have many students in common. Our overarching aim in teaching has, at its core, the same goal: we want to give women joy and power in their lives. You do that with your yoga, I do that with my sexuality class. Your class the other day made me realise how very intertwined those two courses could be. A class focusing on meditation and yoga techniques to ground the physicality of sex.”
“You’re forgetting one thing.” Freya’s voice could have shredded paper. “I encourage people to rise above their baser desires to find happiness. You lower them to their animal instincts. Our classes could not be more different.”
“You’ve never been to one of my classes.”
“I don’t need to. I heard it through the wall of my shop. Every. Damn. Word. I heard your casual approach to teaching, I heard the informality of your exchanges with students, and I certainly heard the sex toys you were demonstrating, as did my customer. I didn’t want your shop next door to mine, I still don’t, and I can’t think of anything that would induce me to run a class with you.”
Lily frowned. “You heard through the wall? I’m sorry, I didn’t realise we were that loud.”
“Single skin panelling. I hear your music, I hear you singing in the shower, talking on the phone. I hear most things.”
“I seldom hear you.”
“I’m extremely quiet by nature. You, obviously, are not. In anything.”
The stress on the final word alerted Lily to what else Freya could have heard through the wall.
“I see. I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable. That was the last thing on my mind.”
“Obviously.” The word was as dry as desert dust.
Lily fell silent. Any sort of response eluded her. She could hardly promise not to have more sessions with her favourite sex toys—especially since she had rediscovered her dormant sexual energy. And equally, a promise to keep quiet went against her nature. She liked to vocalise. The words, the grunts, the groans, the whispers and sighs, the occasional shriek of pleasure, well they were all part and parcel of sex. The only way she would be quiet was if someone smothered her with a pillow, and that wasn’t going to happen.
“I can’t promise to be quiet. It’s just not my way. I’ll move my bed away from the wall, though. That should make some difference.” She smothered a giggle at the thought of Freya banging on the wall at Lily’s most intense moment.
“I don’t find this funny.”
“No. I’m sorry it’s difficult for you. I’ll see if I can get some cloth wall-hangings. That should help muffle any noise.” She cleared her throat. It must be nerves making her throat as dry as it was. The idea of the joint class had fired her enthusiasm in an entirely unexpected way. There must be some way she could persuade Freya to agree. “Please can I have a glass of water?”
Freya nodded and disappeared back into the flat. Lily sat back on the couch. Dorcas appeared from some cat hiding place and padded over the couch to curl up on Lily’s lap.
“What do you reckon, Dorcas?” She stroked the cat along the spine, and Dorcas undulated under her hand and pushed her head against Lily’s forearm. “I don’t want to make your mum uncomfo
rtable, but that’s all I seem to do. I get that she doesn’t want a physical relationship with anyone. That’s her choice. No worries. But I can’t live as she does.” She fell silent, running her fingers lightly over the cat’s fur. Animals were so calming; maybe she should get a cat herself. “You’d have a friend, Dorcas. Living right next door to you. Would you like that?” Although neighbours were not necessarily friends. She and Freya were proof of that.
Freya had taken a while to get the water. Lily closed her eyes and relaxed on the couch. Freya got under her skin in a way few people did. Her brusqueness, her insistence that life was best lived on some sort of esoteric, spiritual plane. If Freya ever changed her mind, if she decided to rejoin the sexual world, then Lily was sure she would find any number of willing partners in Grasstree Flat.
Freya returned and thrust a cool glass at Lily.
“Thanks.” Lily drained it in long gulps and set it down beside her. “I don’t mean to antagonise you, you know. All of this”—she waved her hand generally around, encompassing where they sat, the shops, even Grasstree Flat—“is just me, trying to live my life the way I’ve always wanted. And along the way, if I can help other people as well, that’s great. I think that’s probably how you see it too.”
“I do. And I don’t have a problem with your choices. It’s when they impinge upon mine that the difficulties start. Your noise through the bedroom wall. Your classes in my workshop area—”
“Our workshop area.”
“Our workshop area. I accept that, I have to, it’s in the lease, but I can’t accept you driving away my customers. Even you attending yoga… Well, now, it seems you want to usurp that as well with your latest scheme. Not only do you push your lifestyle in my face at every opportunity, now you want me to be a part of it.” She glared at Dorcas, still curled on Lily’s lap, as though the cat’s defection was just another irritant. Like sand in her bathers, or a bindii in her sandal.
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