by Mickey Brent
“My pleasure,” Sylvie replied, forcing a smile.
The splat of raindrops hitting the windshield merged with the soft rock music. When Sylvie put the engine to rest, all went silent, except the rhythmic pattering on glass.
“I’ll drive you home. It’s starting to pour.”
Hélène stood erect in the rain, wide-eyed and confused as a stray cat mid-street. “No thanks,” she replied, shaking her head vehemently.
“M’enfin, Hélène,” countered Sylvie, as hundreds of droplets sprayed from the tips of Hélène’s hair. “Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t let you—”
“Now that I like water…I might as well soak in it, n’est-ce pas?” Hélène snickered, raising her hands to the rain clouds. “Besides, it’ll cool me off.”
Sylvie furrowed her thick eyebrows. This isn’t like her at all. Then she recalled an article she once read, about a young boy who went berserk after drinking a grape soda. Apparently, the artificial flavors caused certain food allergies, which radically affected his behavior. He was acting like a monster until his parents finally took him to an allergy specialist.
Images of Hélène ingesting glassfuls of retsina flashed through Sylvie’s mind. Merde. I should’ve taken her to a Belgian restaurant.
But Sylvie didn’t know any. She always ate Greek. “I don’t mind taking you home. Vraiment,” she insisted.
“Non, thanks anyway.” Hélène lessened her frown for a nanosecond as she took a wary step around a puddle.
“Okay, but be careful. I want to see you at the pool tomorrow in one piece.”
When her VW bug rounded the corner, Sylvie glanced through the rearview mirror at Hélène, who was unlocking her bike. She seemed so vulnerable, bent over like a bug in the pouring rain.
As Sylvie drove away, she realized how little she understood humans—especially women. Cats are so much easier, she reminded herself, impatient to snuggle with Goldie on the sofa.
Chapter Eighteen
Lying on the sofa that rainy afternoon, Hélène tried to push everything out of her mind. She had Chaussette on her stomach and a steaming mug of peppermint tea by her side. This comforting remedy would fix all ailments. It had worked in the past. But to her distress, every time she closed her eyes, she saw vivid images of Sylvie holding her tightly in the pool.
It can’t work, she tried to tell herself, ignoring her racing heart. But something deep inside didn’t want to believe this. Something wanted her to relish the warmth of their physical and emotional closeness. She remembered the intimacy she felt during her ride in Sylvie’s car toward the Greek restaurant just a few hours earlier. How drawn she was to her. Even her messiness, somehow, was sexy. And her voracious appetite. The way she hummed as she devoured that exotic food, licked the garlic sauce off her lips, and downed that nasty wine. She remembered squirming while her bare toes explored Sylvie’s inner thigh and the roughness of her jeans under the table. The ginger caresses certainly warmed them up, along with the delicious surprise on Sylvie’s face.
Ever so gradually, sensual thoughts invaded Hélène’s body. As she lay on the sofa with her cat on her stomach, inhaling the aroma of steeping peppermint leaves, tingling spread from the tips of her toes to her soft lips. Soon, the tingling intensified, rousing her senses, igniting her skin, wetting her tongue. It swept to her fingers, and then down again, to the tender spot between her thighs. Her eyelids fluttered like dizzy butterflies as she struggled to control her body, which—to her amazement—appeared to be morphing into a new life of its own.
*****
After their early-morning lesson, Sylvie proposed a truce. “It’s Saturday. Let’s take advantage of this beautiful summer day. Let’s test your swimming talents in the ocean.”
Hélène tightened her bath towel around her wet body and glanced out the locker room window. Sunlight filtered through the trees, indicating an unusually sunny morning. It would be a waste not to take advantage of it. And Marc was taking care of the weekly shopping; then he’d go to the market café and knock back a couple of beers. Next, he’d watch the game on TV. He wouldn’t miss her. She was sure of it.
Thank goodness Ceci had convinced her last night that she was right, making Marc take responsibility for their groceries for once. Especially since he was most likely cheating on her. She didn’t care anymore. They had had a deep conversation, where she’d explained to Ceci why she’d left the office early yesterday and where she’d gone with Sylvie. She’d, of course, left out the juicy part about her exploring toes under the table, but she’d shared with her best friend about her hidden feelings for a woman—her attraction to Sylvie.
To Hélène’s surprise, Ceci had accepted her confession and encouraged her to follow her feminine intuition. “True love only happens once in a lifetime, ma chérie, and let me tell you, you haven’t found it with Marc. So what are you waiting for? Follow your heart!”
Hélène smiled shyly at Sylvie and nodded “yes” to her invitation. Before she knew it, they were driving through the Belgian countryside. Lazy sheep and pastures flew by as Sylvie’s old VW sped down the deserted winding roads. Hélène felt her heart pumping faster as she rubbed Sylvie’s keychain between her fingers.
All of a sudden, Sylvie turned to Hélène, winked at her, and sped up to one hundred forty kilometers per hour. The two acted like carefree and rambunctious teenagers sneaking out on their first road trip. A silent complicity united them as they flew through the countryside.
When Sylvie turned on the stereo, modern Greek tunes blared from the speakers, prompting Sylvie to dance in her seat as she steered. Hélène tried to imitate her teacher’s sexy movements. She stuck her arms and head out the window and, breathing in the fresh air, she yelled like a wild hyena.
As the couple advanced through the lush, green landscape, they guzzled down cans of diet soda. Hélène threw popcorn at Sylvie as they whizzed past cows, pigs, horses, prairies, fields, flowers, forests, and quaint villages. The sun floated high in the cloudless azure sky.
When they finally arrived at the Belgian coast, Sylvie parked her car next to the deserted dunes. Opening the trunk, she pulled out a checkered wool blanket, a picnic basket, a bottle of red wine, and a loaf of French bread. She handed Hélène a boom box and flipped on the switch. The pair skipped to earsplitting music as they approached the sandy dunes.
At last, Sylvie led Hélène to a secluded spot where the sparkling sea stretched before their eyes. Its bold blueness contrasted with the sand’s crisp whiteness. Sylvie spread out the picnic blanket, then started taking off her jeans. Hélène’s jaw dropped as she watched. Mon Dieu. What is she doing?
Sylvie took off her shirt. C’est pas possible. Hélène’s heart jumped a beat. She glanced at the empty dunes surrounding them. As soon as Sylvie was down to a pair of tiny black panties, Hélène cut the radio and stammered, “Wha…What are you doing?”
Sylvie grinned. “What does it look like? We’re going swimming.”
“Out there?” Hélène gulped at the waves crashing in the distance.
“Non, in the pool…Of course out there!” Sylvie approached her. “Don’t tell me you’re scared?”
A wave of panic hit Hélène. It was panic mingled with anticipated pleasure. Sylvie was the most attractive woman she had ever seen in her life. And there she was, standing a foot away, wearing tiny black panties and nothing else. The nipples on her firm breasts were pointing straight at Hélène. The two women stood secluded between sand dunes at an empty beach. Hélène looked at Sylvie’s strong, sexy body with its smooth, tan skin. She watched her wavy, dark hair blow in the wind. She looked just like a model or, as Hélène had continually thought, a Greek goddess. Hélène became conscious of her own pale body and cringed. Even though she had recently lost a lot of weight and replaced excess fat with muscle, firming her body in all the right places, her old self-conscious doubts returned. She crossed her arms. “I’ve never swum in the ocean. Besides, I didn’t bring my suit.”
“That
isn’t stopping me. Don’t be a chicken!” Sylvie grabbed Hélène’s arm.
Hélène resisted. “Non, you go ahead. Someone’s got to stay here and watch our stuff.”
“But nobody’s around!” Sylvie grimaced. “Don’t be such a prude, Hélène. On y va!” Ducking behind Hélène, she forced her to stand.
“That’s not it,” Hélène protested, feeling Sylvie’s arms around her waist. “It’s just…”
Sylvie snuck her head behind her ear and whispered in a husky voice: “Don’t forget, I’m a lifeguard. If you start to drown, I’ll save you.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.” Hélène felt a delicious shudder at the thought of Sylvie’s muscular arms pressing against her body, her cool lips on hers, resuscitating her.
Sylvie gently turned Hélène around. “What did you say?” she asked, gazing into her eyes.
“Eh bien…I can’t believe you’re making me do this.” Hélène sighed as she slowly removed her blouse, revealing a baggy white T-shirt underneath. If I had known we were doing this today, I would’ve worn a nicer shirt. Embarrassed, she could feel Sylvie’s eyes penetrate her entire body as she unbuttoned her jeans. She quickly slid them off and—like a shy little child—gazed at her teacher. As she did this, Hélène noticed how her feelings toward her body had changed since she had started exercising and dieting. She was much more mindful now, and more confident. She could feel how her muscles made her stronger. Never before would she have shed her clothes to expose her vulnerability outdoors—in such an intimate way—with a woman. The realization brought her a shiver of excitement. She narrowed her eyes at Sylvie, who stood in the sand with her arms on her hips, grinning. Hélène could feel her T-shirt floating like a sail over her bare thighs. “Let’s get this over with,” she grumbled, diverting her eyes toward the ocean.
“Haven’t you forgotten something?” Sylvie tugged at her T-shirt.
Hélène glanced down. Her nipples were hard and pushing through the white cotton. She shook her head. “I’m keeping this on. Just to be safe.”
Sylvie frowned. “It’ll only weigh you down.”
“Actually, we’ve got a history of skin cancer in the fam—” But before she could finish her sentence, Sylvie grabbed her hand and broke into a run.
“Whatever. On y va!” she yelled, pulling Hélène.
“Aaaiiie!” shouted Hélène, feeling the tender soles of her feet scorching over the hot sand.
Once they reached the water, Sylvie dropped Hélène’s hand and dove into the ocean. She resurfaced like a dolphin.
Hélène pouted as she tiptoed into the cold water with her arms suspended in the air. “It’s freezing!”
“Pas du tout. Your toes are just sensitive. Dive in, you’ll see. It’s incredible!” gushed Sylvie as she sliced head-first into the waves.
Hélène clenched her teeth and advanced one centimeter at a time. Mince. This is really not my idea of fun. I’m turning into an icicle. As soon as the water reached her thighs, she stopped. Shivering, she observed Sylvie swimming circles around her.
When Sylvie’s body brushed against her leg, Hélène wondered what part of her body it was. It was so soft. Most likely a breast. She shivered even more. Then it happened again. Hélène felt strong vibrations run through her body. Underwater vibes, she mused as her eyes caught flashes of white under a dark, muscular back. Through the ripples, the body looked like a shark.
Hélène bit her lip. When Sylvie finally came up for air, Hélène blurted, “Let me remind you, I’m not a big fat Greek grouper like you.”
“Who are you calling a Greek grouper? You’re going to pay for this, kopela!” Diving into the water, Sylvie skimmed the ocean floor with a frog-like thrust, resurfacing before Hélène. “This is what big wild ocean fish do to baby city guppies.” She splashed Hélène’s face with seawater.
Hélène covered her eyes. Her T-shirt, now wet, fully revealed the curves of her breasts. Her erect nipples were pointing directly at Sylvie. Drops of seawater streamed off their tips.
“Arrête, Sylvie. You’re drowning me!”
“That’s the idea!” teased Sylvie, still splashing.
Before Sylvie could catch her, Hélène collapsed. “Why are you so mean?” She gasped as her sobbing face entered the water.
Sylvie gently lifted Hélène and held onto her tightly. “I was just playing. I didn’t realize…Mince. How could I be so stupid? Je suis désolée, my city guppy. I’d never want to hurt you. I adore you.”
Just then, the sun’s rays highlighted their glistening, entwined bodies in the ocean. Sylvie cupped Hélène’s face in her hands, peered into her moist eyes, and kissed her tenderly on the lips.
“I adore you too,” Hélène replied, taking a deep breath and kissing Sylvie back. Their tongues mingled; awkwardness turned to tenderness, which turned to passion. Sylvie attacked Hélène’s throat with her lips while the two women grabbed at each other with their hungry hands, pulling their vibrating bodies together as the pair descended underwater.
About the Author
Ever since Mickey Brent was little, she knew she would write books. She has always had an insatiable curiosity about human psychology and what makes people tick. She began penning adventure stories as soon as she could hold a pencil. She would pretend she was a famous author by creating colorful little picture books and selling them to her brothers and neighborhood kids for a dime apiece.
As an adult, Mickey worked as a freelance artist and writer for various editorial publications in San Francisco. When the travel bug bit her, she relocated to several countries in Europe, where she became a translator and language teacher and studied creative writing. Mickey has finally settled down, to the astonishment of family and friends, after thriving for two decades as a globetrotter. Through the adventures of her fictional characters, Mickey’s aim is to provide readers with delicious entertainment as well as glimpses of her favorite cities and cultures around the world. She relies on her linguistic and teaching skills to fund her writing passion and spends her free time learning exotic languages, drawing, taking photos, and jotting down crazy anecdotes from her travel experiences in faraway lands.
For more information about Mickey, visit www.mickeybrent.com.
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