Where the Light Plays

by C. Fonseca

  Gently tugging Caitlin’s arm, Erica directed her across the room. “Come on, I’d like you to meet the director of the Victorian College of the Arts. As one of our leading arts academics, she is definitely someone you should get to know.”

  Caitlin suppressed a yawn. It had been nearly an hour since Erica had left her with a group of university academics. She stood with the remaining stragglers and was relieved when Erica approached. She placed her arm around Caitlin’s waist, rather possessively, and said, “I hope you don’t mind, ladies and gentlemen, but I’ve finished my duties here tonight and was hoping to steal away this gorgeous creature for a quiet supper.”

  * * *

  Caitlin acquiesced, and she and Erica stepped outside into the mild evening and made their way towards the car park.

  Fifteen minutes later, she followed Erica through an unassuming, unmarked door and up a flight of wooden stairs. As they reached the top step, Erica turned to her and smiled flirtatiously. Erica looked extraordinarily good in her navy-pinstripe, double-breasted wool suit jacket and pants and her white button-down shirt. Caitlin gazed at her, momentarily disconcerted, then turned her attention to their host, who greeted them at the entrance of the Supper Club. The friendly but officious host recognised Erica as a regular patron and led them to what was arguably the best seat in the house; a corner table near a picture window overlooking Parliament House and Saint Patrick’s Cathedral.

  “Sparkling?” Erica asked, as she flipped through the leather-bound, encyclopaedic wine menu.

  Caitlin nodded, leaned closer to Erica, and pointed to the Chandon cuvée.

  Erica motioned to the barman and placed their order for a bottle of Tasmanian bubbly and a light meal. Caitlin knew from a previous visit that the Supper Club was a perfect venue for intimate conversation. It was devoid of background music, with an understated old world charm and inviting ambience.

  “I haven’t heard from you for weeks, Caitlin. Too busy?” Erica pouted her glossy lips, feigning disappointment—although you could never be sure with Erica.

  “I have been busy. Some days are totally frantic, and I’m constantly behind time. And I am still finding my way around Melbourne.”

  Erica lightly placed her hand on Caitlin’s thigh and stroked the fine fabric of her dress. Caitlin put her hand over Erica’s, discreetly halting its progress.

  “Erica,” she murmured.

  The waiter cleared his throat and set the platter of food and two plates on their table. “Enjoy your supper, ladies,” he said.

  “The food here is divine.” Erica reached for the platter and skilfully sliced the croque monsieur into sections. She held out a crispy morsel to Caitlin. “Try this. It’s probably the best ham and cheese toastie in town.”

  Caitlin bit into the velvety brown sandwich, careful not to burn her tongue on the gooey melted Gruyere cheese. “Oh, this is…so good.” She licked her lips.

  “It’s equally satisfying to watch you eat it.” Erica pushed the platter closer to her.

  Caitlin drained the flute of luscious sparkling wine and relaxed back into the plush sofa.

  “You seem distracted tonight, Caitlin,” Erica said.

  “Just tired. It’s been a long week.” She glanced up at Erica and gave her a lopsided grin. Caitlin told herself to get over it—whatever it was that drew her to Andi. She’d dug a trench in the sand that Caitlin was clearly not invited to cross. Erica, however, was beautiful and willing. Caitlin added, “But not too tired.”

  Under Erica’s gaze, she picked over the platter of appetizers. Tuna ceviche infused with coriander and lime dressing. Crispy house tortillas. Stilton and pickled walnuts.

  “That should fortify you,” Erica smirked. “More sparkling?”

  Caitlin nodded. “Why not.” She dabbed at her mouth and then placed the napkin on the table. “One more, and I’ll walk you back so I can pick up the car,” Caitlin said. She had parked her car ten minutes away at Erica’s apartment.

  Erica smiled confidently. This was familiar territory. The last time they’d shared dinner in the city, they had ended up together in Erica’s apartment—in Erica’s bed. The memory was certainly not an unpleasant one. Caitlin was enjoying the evening—delicious food and excellent wine in the company of Erica—a highly intelligent and attentive woman.

  It was a mild spring night, and the city hummed. Fairy lights glittered in the plane trees that lined Collins Street. At this hour, the Paris end of the street certainly earned its name, with its grand old buildings, prestigious restaurants, and high-end boutiques. As they stepped out of the Supper Club, Caitlin and Erica joined the well-dressed patrons leaving the Princess Theatre.

  “By the look of things, the exhibition opening went as planned,” Caitlin said.

  Erica seemed pleased with the attendance and level of interest shown in their latest show.

  “I think so. Max from The Age newspaper and a handful of other reporters were in attendance. I believe the exhibition will draw enough media attention to attract sponsors for our arts program.”

  “Isabella and the estate are proud to be part of the program, especially as it sponsors young, disadvantaged women artists.”

  “We’re glad to have you on board.” Erica smiled sweetly. “You’re a native already. Are you enjoying our city?”

  “Yes, I do love Melbourne. It lives up to its reputation for being one of the most liveable cities in the world.” Suddenly, Erica lurched forward and pulled Caitlin to safety as a cyclist veered towards them.

  “Damn. Maybe I spoke too soon. Thank you.” She stared at the disappearing bike and shook her head. Close call. “Having said that, I also love getting down to the coast as often as I can.”

  Erica scoffed. “Not for me, I’m afraid. I’m a city girl—born and bred. Too much sand, mosquitoes, and open spaces…”

  They came to a standstill outside Erica’s sandstone apartment located in the historic nineteenth-century building, Treasury on Collins. Erica used her card to access the electronic security door, and Caitlin followed her into the vaulted entry foyer.

  The space was empty, apart from the night doorman, who looked up and smiled discreetly before lowering his gaze to his book. As they approached the elevator door, Erica stood close and delicately brushed her glistening lips against Caitlin’s cheek. “You are coming up for a nightcap, aren’t you?”

  The elevator door opened smoothly, and without further conversation, they both stepped through.

  CHAPTER 15

  “Come on, Andi. Move along. The taxi will be here any minute,” Ellie shouted from the other side of the bathroom door. “You’ve been in there forever.”

  Five agonising minutes later, Andi turned the doorknob and reluctantly walked into Ellie’s living room. A group of Ellie’s friends had gathered, and they wolf-whistled in unison, filling the apartment with a high-pitched sound.

  Andi had left her hair naturally windswept and tousled. It had taken her ages to decide what to wear to the dance, but she’d finally selected straight, black, tailored trousers and her favourite vintage black-and-white chequered jacket. Her charcoal silk shirt, pencil-thin red tie, and leather hi-top sneakers—shiny and black—completed what she hoped was an acceptable look.

  “Wow. Andi, can you be my date?” asked Helen, the overzealous young theatre nurse who worked with Ellie.

  Andi’s cheeks burned, and she shoved her hands deep into her pockets.

  “Oh, sweetie…if you blush like that, you’ll have half the room eating out of your hands. You are simply too gorgeous,” added Helen.

  Andi tried to smile, but her nerves were on edge. She shook her head dismissively, and when she trembled, Ellie put a reassuring arm around her shoulders.

  “You do look sensational,” Ellie whispered softly, as she gave Andi a hug; then she turned to the group. “Helen, please stop the teasing. Go. And take the rest of these delinquents with you.” Ellie shooed her friends out the door, allowing Andi some space. “Splendid. I think we’
re ready. The taxi should be here.”

  Andi rocked back and forth on her heels. Four hundred women at one dance. “Oh, crap,” she said. How had Ellie talked her into this?

  The tickets had arrived in the mail, with an accompanying note from Caitlin suggesting the event would be a perfect place for Andi to network with artists and other arty women. At the end of the note, in an informal scrawl, was a smiley symbol and the words—could be a lot of fun too.

  Ellie jumped at the chance to use the second ticket. When Andi telephoned Caitlin to thank her for the generous gift, she’d been forwarded to her voicemail. The recorded message said that Caitlin was out of town on business. Discouraged, Andi had texted her and was even more reluctant to attend when the return message explained that Caitlin might not be back in time for the dance. Now that Ellie had finally persuaded her to go anyway, she’d be disappointed if Caitlin didn’t make it to the dance.

  “You are really on edge. What are you nervous about? Are you worried she will be there, or that she won’t?” asked Ellie.

  Andi wished she knew that herself. “I don’t know.” She shrugged noncommittally. “I’m…I just don’t like large crowds. You know that,” she said. Who was she kidding? She wanted to see Caitlin tonight. Andi hadn’t thought of anything else since their last conversation.

  Ellie laughed, “Yeah, sure.” She pulled on her Burberry jacket. “Well, if she doesn’t turn up, there will be…oh, let me see…just another four hundred or so lesbians at this charity bash. Just remember, if you don’t go—and Caitlin does—she will be there with those four hundred other women instead of with you.”

  “Oh God,” Andi groaned. “I haven’t been out to a nightclub in ages. Maybe it will be fun. I actually feel like dancing.” And maybe it will be good to hang out with some of the old crowd from Melbourne; burn off her agitation on the dance floor. She gave Ellie an admiring glance. “You look fantastic tonight, Ellie.”

  “Thanks, Andi Pandi. Dancing is the best way for you to work off all that nervous energy. Let’s not forget all those women… I know, I’ll shut up. I’m just trying to get you to chill. Come on, the taxi is here.”

  * * *

  Friday night’s seven thirty flight from Sydney was full of business commuters heading home for the weekend. Caitlin had chosen to leave her car in the car park at the airport and had taken only carry-on luggage, ensuring a quick getaway. It would have been near impossible to secure a taxi ride back to Kew on a Friday evening.

  By the time she got to the estate, Caitlin buzzed with excitement. She bounded up the stairs to her apartment, tossed her briefcase and suitcase into the wardrobe, grabbed the outfit she’d pre-planned to wear, and headed for the shower. The thrill of expectation gave her a burst of energy. Caitlin managed to shower, dress, and head into South Yarra by ten o’clock.

  Tonight, Caitlin would attend her first event at the Emerson hotel. She was ready to let loose and have a bit of fun. All the way home, she’d thought about Andi—in the plane, driving down the motorway, and especially now that she was nearly at the venue. Andi’s texts during the week had been noncommittal, but she was confident Andi would be at the dance.

  She thanked the parking fairy as she reversed the Roadster into a car space, directly in front of Prahran Market, two hundred two hundred metres from the hotel entrance. People spilled out of cafés and restaurants, and Caitlin hummed impatiently as she weaved and dodged through the noisy, jovial crowd.

  “G’day love,” called an inebriated man as he staggered towards Caitlin. “There’s a party down in Greville Street. Want to join us?”

  Shaking her head at the invitation, Caitlin walked on until she reached the steps of the hotel. Wide-eyed, she observed the sign over the entrance doorway.

  That which we call sin in others, is experiment for us—Ralph Waldo Emerson

  “Intriguing choice,” Caitlin murmured. She flashed her ticket at the tux-suited doorman and made her entrance into the large, double-height, open lobby. She looked up at the curved staircase and contemplated the meaning of Emerson’s words.

  Tonight, Caitlin had every intention of enticing Andi to go home with her. And like the quotation implied, she would have to face the consequences of her actions.

  She took the carpeted stairs two at a time to the central club level. She headed towards the pulsating, pounding music. The room reverberated, and she scanned the vast expanse of moving bodies and coloured flashing lights. “Be still my beating heart,” she said and took a deep breath. With a stunningly crazy decor, a grain-wood dance floor, and a DJ booth, the setting would fire up any party.

  She noticed that the room focused on excitable colours—deep reds, purples, and bright mahogany. What could you say about a club that boasted seating especially designed to be danced on? Caitlin walked past the perimeter seating, avoiding eye contact with the women who lounged near the entrance and who checked out the passers-by.

  “Caitie,” Kim greeted her with a booming voice and wide smile. “So glad you made it, sweetheart.” She pulled Caitlin into a crushing hug. “I tried to save you a seat…but these women are throwing themselves at me.” She winked and waved her hands excitedly in front of her ample chest.

  Sharon playfully slapped her partner on the behind. “In your dreams…lover.”

  Kim and Sharon led Caitlin to their booth at mezzanine level, where the intimate lounge area and cocktail bar had a bird’s-eye view of the DJ booth and the thumping dance floor below.

  “What’s your poison, Caitie?” Kim asked, heading for the bar.

  “I’ll have a cosmopolitan, please,” Caitlin shouted, in an attempt to make herself heard. “Let me help you.”

  Kim held up her hand. “Stay right where you are. One cosmopolitan coming up. Your usual, Shaz?”

  “Make it a double,” Sharon said. She held down the hem of her hot-pink, pleated shift and edged closer along the bench seat towards Caitlin. She looked Caitlin over, from head to foot. “You look amazing. You’ve probably been running around all day. How do you manage?”

  “Thanks, Sharon. Everyone looks fabulous.” Caitlin smiled at the group of women seated at the booth. She turned back to Sharon. “It’s been a long week, but I’m hoping to absorb some of the vitality from this crowd. I believe there is enough energy in this room to fuel the next trip to the moon.”

  Sharon nodded. “All the way there and back again, love,” she said.

  Kim sauntered back to their table. As she handed over the martini glass, she slyly motioned towards an attractive young woman who was ogling Caitlin. “I can see you’re already causing a stir, Caitie. The way you’re dressed tonight…oh my. You are either a femme fatale or the angel incarnate—I haven’t decided which one yet.” Kim bowed and collapsed beside Sharon.

  “Agreed.” Sharon giggled. “Only you could get away with indigo sailor trousers, shiny brass buttons, and that figure-hugging top. It shows a nice expanse of midriff. Chic and sexy,” Sharon purred.

  “I’m totally bowled over by these trousers. Hello Sailor. I’ve never seen anything like it before; I’m all at sea.” Kim placed her hand just above her left breast. “Makes my heart race.” She scanned Caitlin from top to bottom, her eyebrows arching mischievously. “And if I do say so…damn…those legs go on forever.”

  Sharon slapped Kim’s hand. “Behave,” she said.

  “Don’t worry my love, I only have eyes for you. But there will be others who don’t have my willpower.”

  “Yes, too true… But I’ll still be watching you.”

  Kim stood and placed her hands on her hips—head to one side. “To put it plain and simple, Sharon, our Irish lass here is dressed to seduce.”

  Caitlin shook her head at the comical banter between the two women. In a very short time, she had discovered that, to some Australians, nothing was sacred. But she had also learned that this fair dinkum joking and teasing was not personal. They enjoyed a great belly laugh, just like the Irish.

  The luscious pink, slight
ly sweet, slightly sour cocktail slipped down effortlessly. Caitlin intended to drive home, so the sensible thing to do was go easy on the alcohol. Plus, she needed to have her wits about her if—when—she found Andi.

  Caitlin grew restless. Where was Andi? Was she even here? It was time to find out. She excused herself and walked to the open balcony. The transparent glass rail allowed an unrestricted view of the crowded dance floor below. She tapped the railing with her hand. How would she find Andi in this multi-storied, ridiculously crowded venue?

  She placed her now-empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and slowly scanned the room from the entrance and across the expansive dance floor. It seemed like an eternity before Andi finally came into view. Caitlin grinned. Without a second thought, she descended the stairs through the lounge bar and made her way down onto the dance floor. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the intense flashing colours from the club lighting.

  Caitlin recognised the dance remix, “I Found You” by UK band The Wanted. The room was pumping. The air was electric, and energy ricocheted and rebounded from every surface. Bodies moved, alone or together, vigorously and seductively in the high-octane atmosphere. Caitlin was exhilarated and edgy with nervous anticipation. She had no idea how Andi would react to her.

  Through the haze, Caitlin noticed Ellie—her attention was clearly fixed on a woman wearing a super short emerald dress. Even though a small group of women danced around Andi, Caitlin could tell she was in her own world. Andi moved with a sensuous internal rhythm that was both graceful and alluring. Strong and so, so desirable. Caitlin needed to be closer.

  She wove her way into the circle of dancers to stand directly behind Andi, who seemed unaware of Caitlin’s presence. She gently trailed her fingers across the back of Andi’s shoulders and encircled her waist as she breathed in the intoxicating mix of sandalwood and sunshine.

  “Andi,” Caitlin said with a longing sigh.