“Oh, God…on fire,” Kaia, panting, whispered into the air as Joanna drew out the final tension. She grasped Joanna’s hair, arched off the mattress, then called out suddenly as the climax seized her.
Joanna waited until she felt her soften into languor, then withdrew and slid up to lie under Kaia’s arm. She wanted to whisper something tender in her ear, but the joy that filled her at that moment was wordless, their lovemaking the gratification of some animal want that did not need speech.
Kaia’s chest still rose and fell with the deep breathing of satiation, but finally she turned sideways and stroked her face.
“I want to make you happy like that, but I don’t know yet…I’ve never…”
Joanna reassured her. “It’s all right. You know all the places. And I’m so excited that you only have to touch me a little. See?” She pressed Kaia’s hand into the wetness between her legs.
Kaia’s touch was electric. Tentatively at first, then obviously learning the landscape of Joanna’s sex, she stroked with skill and confidence. Then she began to tease, slowing the movement of her fingers, caressing every place but the hot, hard spot that yearned for it.
Joanna closed her eyes under the exquisite torment, and a shimmering scenario coalesced behind her eyelids. Circles spiraled within glistening circles, laughter sounded over the rushing of a stream from deep below. The water rose and fell and rose again, and the circles turned more tightly, spiraling the silver liquid upward pulse by pulse until it was unbearable. For the briefest instant it stopped her breath; then all erupted brightly, and she was the water and the fountain and the joy.
She lay spent for a moment in the sticky sweet air of the adulterous bed, then murmured into Kaia’s hair, “I could almost face the sharks again if I knew it would end in this.”
“Don’t talk of sharks. Let’s never talk of sharks again. Just tell me that you care for me.”
“You know I do. How can you doubt it?” I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Joanna thought, but dared not say it. The woman in her arms still belonged, at least legally, to a man. And he was due back.
Kaia was falling asleep. She murmured something in return, something incoherent, but Joanna thought it could have been the word love.
*
Joanna awakened abruptly at some sound but then realized it was only the boat thrown against the dock by a wave from a passing powerboat. She slipped quietly from the bed and went to use the charming nautical bathroom she had grown to love in the week it had been hers. Its glass-enclosed shower and tiny polished wood cabinets were luxury in miniature. She stepped inside the shower to rinse the stickiness from her thighs, but a moment later Kaia stood in the doorway, her thick dark hair gorgeously disheveled. “You were going to shower without me?”
“I was just warming it up for us,” Joanna said, adjusting the temperature. Then she drew Kaia into the tiny space and they stood in a slippery embrace as the warm water poured down, over, and between them.
They lathered playfully and then kissed again, tongues dancing in the same wordless language they’d used the night before, and the combined sensations of water and each other brought immediate arousal. Kaia broke away.
“Stop, before I collapse and break my neck in here.” She took hold of Joanna’s wrist and pulled her back to the bed where they began anew, their soapy bodies sliding against each other. Joanna once again invaded the sweet space she had learned the night before, and they climbed together the breathtaking steps of newly discovered passion.
Afterward, they lay damp and half dozing in each other’s arms until Joanna asked, “What time do the crew arrive?”
“Jibril comes at ten and the others at noon. When we’re in the dock, there’s not so much for them to do. She twisted sideways to glance at the night-table clock. “Eight fifty-five. Come on. I’ll make you a nice breakfast.”
“Let’s make another try at that shower first, okay? This time separately.”
*
It was the same breakfast at the same sunlit table they’d had a week before, yet the world had changed. As she cleared away the plates, Kaia hummed something that sounded operatic and remarked about the scarcity of fresh pineapple in El Gouna. Joanna watched her while she squeezed oranges to make another round of fresh orange juice for them, as if they were a family. The thought brought a twinge, because they were not a family. They had different lives and responsibilities, and hers was to be in the workshop making the last statue.
The last statue? Uff. She all but slapped herself on the forehead. She hadn’t yet even brought it up.
“Kaia, would you stand model for our fifth statue? Of Lot’s wife?” She gathered up the remaining dishes and carried them to the galley.
“You mean the one who turns into a pillar of salt?” Kaia took them and set them in the sink.
“Uh, yes, that’s the one. Her name was Atiyah, and she was much wronged. Murdered, in fact. I want to bring her alive again and your face is perfect for her. You’ve seen how we make the cast. It’s not so nice being inside a mold, but it’ll just take a day.”
Kaia answered without hesitation. “Of course I would. I’ll come any time you want.” They returned to the table and Kaia poured the new orange juice into their glasses.
“How about today? We’re very close to deadline.”
“Well, why not? What should I wear?”
“Just something you don’t mind leaving on the workshop floor. We’ll wrap you in drapery for the mold.”
“Oh, a costume drama. I love it. Let me change then. I’ll be back in two minutes.” With a quick kiss to the top of Joanna’s head, Kaia disappeared down the staircase to the lower deck.
Joanna relaxed against the cushioned bench and let her gaze wander around the warm, sunny teak interior of the yacht, unable to decide whether she loved it or hated it. It was Kaia’s yacht, but also Bernard’s, and had become a symbol of what kept her tied to him. Being there this time felt like trespassing. Or maybe being the third party in adultery always felt like that; she didn’t know. She had never loved a married woman before.
Loved? Did that word actually float by? She examined the thought, but then Kaia suddenly reappeared at the top of the stairs in very old jeans and a brassiere, holding a shirt in each hand. “Which do you think is more chic, the blue one with the paint or the green one with the grease? I have an image to protect, you know.”
Joanna took the blue one and examined it. I think this one is—”
“What the hell are you doing here? I thought I made myself clear that you were not welcome.” Once again Bernard Allen marched through the salon doors like the buffoon in a French farce. But he was no clown.
He stared for a moment at Kaia’s naked shoulders and brassiere, then directed his glare at Joanna. “You fucked my wife, didn’t you?”
Joanna stood speechless, as she had done before, paralyzed by fear, guilt, and a growing sense of banality.
Strangely, Kaia seemed unfazed. With a defiant calm, she took the paint-stained blue shirt from Joanna and slid one arm, then the other into the sleeves. She began buttoning from the top. “Twice actually. The best sex I’ve had in twenty years.”
The insult caused an alarming change in Bernard’s expression, from a scowl of suspicion to ice-cold rage. He focused on Joanna again. “I told you to stay the hell off my boat,” he snarled.
Kaia rolled up the sleeves of her shirt. “It’s my boat, Bernie, not yours. We bought it with the earnings from my films. I can invite anyone on it I want.”
“You bitch. I could ruin you for this. You’d never be offered a contract again.”
“Ah, a threat to my career. That was inevitable. Divorce won’t do it any good either, I suppose. Well, obviously we’ve got a lot to talk about. For starters, I know about the pictures in your safe.”
“My safe? What the hell are you talking about?”
“The pornography. The girls. You slimy bastard.”
Bernard took a step backward at the sudden g
ame change. Joanna did too, though she had no idea what the discussion was about. Obviously something deadly serious, for Bernard’s voice dropped in volume and menace. “Do you really want to discuss these things in front of a stranger?”
“She’s not a stranger. But, no, I don’t want to discuss our shame in front of her.” Kaia turned to Joanna. “Please excuse my husband’s bad manners. But he’s right. We have unpleasant matters to talk about in detail and in private. Don’t worry. I’ll come by the workshop around noon. I promise.”
“You’re sure?” Joanna asked, reluctant to leave. Did Hollywood agents beat their wives? She looked nervously at Bernard, but he appeared more shaken than threatening.
“Yes, I’m sure. Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. If I’m not there by twelve, you can come back and pick me up.”
Joanna was not sure if the “come back” remark was a practical suggestion or a hint to Bernard that someone would be looking out for her. Either way, Joanna agreed. She dared not lean in to kiss Kaia good-bye so merely stepped around Bernard. She walked with deliberate, casual steps through the salon and down the stairs to the stern deck. As she stepped onto the dock she passed Jibril, who was just coming to work. She had never warmed to the dour crewman, but now she was relieved.
Or would a rigid Islamist simply make things worse?
Chapter Twenty-one
Joanna stood at the workshop doorway and watched the road.
“Stop worrying,” Charlie said behind her. “She’ll be along. We only need about four or five hours to do both head and body, and we’ll still be able to finish today.”
She returned to the workbench with him. “You don’t understand. It’s Bernie I’m worried about. You should have seen the look on his face, like he could have murdered us both right there. The only way I know he’s not beating her up is that one of the crewmen is there, probably all of them by now. So I suppose—” The sound of a car motor made her hurry to the doorway.
Kaia stepped out of the rented Mercedes and waved. “I’m sorry if I’m late. I had to settle a few things before I could leave.” She stopped in front of Joanna, somewhat flushed from exertion. I’d have preferred to stay there while he packed his things, but I knew you were waiting for me.”
“Packed? What do you mean?”
Leading the way into the workshop, Kaia lifted her shoulder bag over her head and looked around for a place to set it down.
“I told him to leave. We’ve got two residences he can choose from, a penthouse in New York and a house in Los Angeles, but I suppose he’ll go to New York and talk to his lawyer again.” She smiled a greeting at Charlie and dropped her bag on the floor out of the way.
Ever the model of discretion, Charlie made no comment, but gestured toward the modeling stool. Kaia sat down and went on talking. “In addition, he’s got an office in West Hollywood, so he might end up there. It’s all part of what we have to work out in the divorce.”
Joanna was about to pour water into the alginate for the face cast but stopped, holding the beaker suspended in midair. “You’re divorcing him because of…of last night?”
“No, of course not. I mean, last night was absolutely amazing, but even if you hadn’t shown up, I was going to tell Bernie that it was over between us. It has nothing to do with you. I mean, it didn’t. There are…other matters.”
“Ah, I see.” Joanna didn’t see at all, but sensing that it wasn’t the time for such a conversation, she held back asking further and turned her attention to the mixture.
Charlie also seemed unsure whether to react to the announcement and simply held out a plastic shower cap while Kaia tied up her hair. After inserting a few large clips to hold it all in place, he laid the cap over the entire mass.
But Kaia was obviously feeling talkative. “Anyhow, I called my daughters,” she said, even as Charlie inserted plastic tubes into her nostrils. Unfazed, she continued while Joanna applied the first layer of alginate over her forehead and crown. “They’ve agreed to fly here for a week, for my birthday. I’ve got important things to discuss with them in any case. Of course, I want you to meet them. I’m sure you’ll like each other.”
Daughters. Right. Kaia had a life of her own, Joanna remembered. She would go back to the States soon, and life would go on. Without Bernard, apparently. At least there was that. She shook herself back to the present.
“Ah, yes, well. As soon as you’re ready, I’ll paste up your eyes and mouth. And then you can’t move your lips for forty-five minutes.”
“Okay. I’ve cold-creamed up my face. Go ahead and smear me. I can take it.” Kaia closed her eyes. “I can take anything, now.”
Ignoring the enigmatic remark, Joanna scooped up a dollop of the thickening alginate batter with her spatula. “All right then. Here it comes. I’ll start with the right eye.” She laid it on, then scooped again. “Now the left one.” She scooped a third time. “And this is for those lovely lips.”
“Ummph,” Kaia commented.
“Yes, I thought so, too,” Joanna said.
Charlie laid on netting and Joanna slathered on a second coat of the mixture. “If you have any problems under there, trouble breathing, or an anxiety attack, just grunt twice and we’ll let you out,” Charlie called into one of the thickly coated ears.
Kaia grunted once. “Ummph.”
“We’re finished applying the goo, so now you just have to relax,” Charlie added. “It’s going to seem like a long time, so we’ll try to entertain you.”
“Oh, dear. We forgot to ask whether she preferred show tunes or poetry readings.”
From underneath the mask Kaia emitted a distinct moan of despair. “All right. We’ll skip the show tunes.”
Kaia made a gesture of writing on her hand and Charlie fetched a pencil and pad of yellow lined paper. She scrawled across half the page, “Tell me about you.”
“I think she means you, Joanna,” Charlie said. “Or do you want to hear my life story?” he shouted at the creamy white head with nose tubes.
“Um umm,” the head answered, and the hand scribbled, “Some other time, Charlie.”
Joanna pulled up a bench to sit in front of her mute model. “Well, I don’t know how much is worth talking about. I work at the London Museum of Natural History, with Charlie, though he’s been there a lot longer. Before that I was at UC Santa Barbara, in California, teaching marine biology. I started diving while I was in graduate school at Stanford, and when I was at Santa Barbara I dove all along the Pacific Coast.”
“Ugh. Cold,” Kaia scribbled.
“Yes, it was cold, but we explored some nice shipwrecks off the Channel Islands and occasionally saw gray whales. But once I started diving in warmer waters, I became interested in coral, which is notably absent off the California coast.”
“London?” Kaia wrote.
“Well, I published a few papers on corals and how they were endangered, and the museum offered me a job. People asked me how I could leave California for rainy London, but I guess it’s in my blood and I need rain for at least half the year to stay properly English. Otherwise I get too cheerful. What about you?”
The white head, which Joanna’s gentle poking revealed was beginning to harden nicely, chuckled softly.
“Nothing to say? Well, I’ll let Charlie talk while I prepare everything for the next stage.” Joanna stood up to collect the packages of gauze and rods for the larger body cast while Charlie took over the entertainment, describing life at the museum.
A short time later, a final tap on top and side revealed that the mold was formed. Joanna incised a line from the right shoulder tip along the side of the head and down to the other shoulder. When she was satisfied the cut was clean, she and Charlie pulled the mold apart.
“Ah, finally.” Kaia panted, as if she’d been running. “It was pretty awful in there. If you hadn’t been rambling on and on, I might have panicked.”
Charlie examined the inside of the face and handed it back to Joanna. “Nice work. This one’s going
to be the best yet.”
Joanna scrutinized the hollowed-out face, turning it back and forth. “I think you’re right. But let’s not waste time flattering ourselves. We’ve got to do the body now, and that will take a little posing. So, everyone who is about to be stuck in plaster for an hour should take a quick potty break.” She pulled a tiny ball of alginate from Kaia’s perfectly shaped eyebrow. “I think that means you.”
*
Bernard seethed as he knelt on the deck of the tiny cabin and emptied the contents of his safe into his briefcase. Getting to his feet, he knocked an ashtray from his desk. He kicked it furiously out of the way but felt no satisfaction. What he really wanted was to pound his fist through the bulkhead. Or into Kaia’s face.
How the hell had she broken into his safe, the bitch? It was his private space, a supposedly secure place where he could store any goddamn thing he wanted, including his pictures. He didn’t look at them often, but every now and again, when Kaia was away, he couldn’t resist. It was like an addiction. Sure, he was a normal guy and could get his rocks off with any woman, but the thought of those smooth little bodies and their tight little pussies made him crazy.
He wasn’t a perv. He’d never raped any little girls; force wasn’t his style. But he sure liked looking at the little peaches between their legs and beating off to the thought of them. And sure, maybe once or twice, he’d done a little touching. “So shoot me!” he demanded of his invisible accuser. When he was the same age, he’d been fingered and jacked off by his uncle plenty of times, with no harm done. There was no reason for such hysteria.
And it wasn’t like he was alone in the world. Christ, there was a whole market for kiddie porn. He ought to know; he’d made a small fortune off peddling it. He only stopped when he found some real talent and a beautiful woman he could market legitimately.
Okay, it was asking for trouble to have kept the pictures of Kiele and Mei all those years. But they were the ones that got him really hot. All he had to do was recall the time he’d cajoled them into stroking his dick, and it gave him a major woody every time. Dumb to bring them along on the yacht, though, he had to admit.
Beloved Gomorrah Page 21
