Turbulence

by E. J. Noyes

  “What is it, baby?”

  “I want to come so badly.”

  “Then do it. Let me hear you.”

  I could have climaxed just listening to her and thinking about everything she was doing. My legs were trembling as I ran my fingers down…down…down over muscles taut with desire until fingers met hot, wet folds. My clit was throbbing with every beat of my heart and I slid my finger over the swollen flesh, trying to drag the sensation out. My breathing caught. “Jesus. I’m so fucking wet.” A finger, then two.

  “Spread your legs for me. Tell me exactly what you’re doing,” she growled.

  I pulled out, fingers gliding easily through my thick arousal. “I…I’m fucking myself. God, I wish you were here. I want your fingers, I want your tongue.”

  Audrey moaned and I heard the hitch in her vocalization. She was so close to coming. “Iz, I fucking ache for you,” she whispered hoarsely.

  Bracing my feet, I lifted my ass off the bed, furiously driving myself toward the edge. I was done playing, done teasing myself. “I wanna hear you come. Will you come for me?”

  Her telltale cry as she climaxed broke me and before I could form a thought, my orgasm crested and carried me over the edge. I cried out, jerking in spasms with each delicious pulse.

  After a few moments, Audrey made a quiet confession. “Right now, I really miss you.”

  I let my legs drop, my heels sliding against the sheets. The burn of desire in my stomach eased, replaced by a far less pleasant feeling of gnawing unease. I had to swallow before I could answer. “Me too.”

  * * *

  All Saturday, my thoughts kept straying to those words. I miss you. Such a simple phrase. The words were deeper than sexual desire. It wasn’t I miss your body, your hands, your tongue. It was I miss you and there had been no hesitation in my response. I missed her too. I wanted her. I was addicted to her and not just for sex.

  I’d come to depend on her quiet assurances. The way she smiled at me, her gentle teasing. She drew me out, made me laugh more in the months I’d known her than I had in the year before her. When she looked at me, I knew she saw me. Real me, not sort-of-fake me I’d built for presenting to the world.

  I’d wanted to call Audrey again, but forced myself to leave her alone. And it felt horrible. Instead, I settled for closing my eyes and reliving the sound of her voice from last night. It didn’t help. For the rest of the weekend I thought about her, wondered what she was doing and tried to distract myself by working until I dropped. Saturday night, I fell asleep at my desk and woke a little before midnight to a text Audrey had sent earlier.

  Hotels without you are kind of boring.

  I typed out a response without thinking. Home without you is boring. Just as quickly, I deleted it. Too much. Tapping my thumbs against the screen, I thought of what I could say. After a couple of minutes I decided on a lighthearted response. You’re getting spoilt. I added a smile emoji for good measure then tossed my phone aside, disgusted with my cowardice.

  She texted very late Sunday to tell me she was back, and Sunday night blurred to Monday morning. Mark was reserved when he came into the office, offering no insight as to how his weekend had gone. I sleepwalked through my day until it was time to leave for therapy. Clare walked through the office beside me, taking notes.

  A quick glance at my watch confirmed I was in danger of being late. “I’ll need that paperwork first thing and can you double check the meeting tomorrow? Last time he got the time mixed up.”

  “Absolutely. Is there anything else, Ms. Rhodes?” Clare pressed the elevator button for me.

  “Have you and Tamara liaised to arrange a time for Mark and I to have lunch?”

  “Apparently Friday is the earliest Mr. Hall is available.” She gave me a helpless smile when I arched a disbelieving eyebrow at her. Pretty sure Mark had no meetings this week.

  I raised a hand and waved my annoyance away. “Okay fine. Book it please and can you hold my calls until four fifteen. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Therapy sucked. Raw and confused about Friday night I ended up crying when Dr. Baker asked if I’d made any progress with declaring my feelings to Audrey. Around my tears I managed to tell her, “No, not a single step.”

  “Why are you denying this, Isabelle?” Dr. Baker’s question was calm, but determined. It was going to be one of those sessions where she didn’t let me make excuses, but forced me to confront my fears.

  I propped my elbow on the arm of the chair, resting my chin in my palm. The urge to say I don’t know and then just get up and walk out was overwhelming. Dr. Baker waited silently, watching me try to find what I had to say. Eventually I said, “Because I’m afraid that if I tell her, it’s going to change everything.”

  “How?” she asked immediately.

  “Well, if she doesn’t feel the same and just wants to keep being casual there’s going to be the awkwardness of her knowing I want more.”

  Dr. Baker nodded. “Okay. Do you think that knowing that, she’d call it quits?”

  “I don’t think so, no.” I raised my head from my hand. “But I don’t know for sure and if she does, it’ll be so humiliating.”

  “From what you’ve told me, Audrey doesn’t seem like the type to mock you, or purposely make you feel bad for being honest.”

  “No, she’s not.” I reached around to dig my fingers into the suddenly tight muscle at the base of my neck. “Listen, it’s just…I need something uncomplicated in my life. Work is stressful, there’s something up with Mark and I just can’t handle something else being confusing right now.”

  “I think it already is confusing, Isabelle.” She set her pen down atop the notepad. “In my opinion, clearing the air and letting this go will ease some of your mental burden.”

  Thanks, Doc.

  In the car home from therapy I texted Audrey. Though I’d be at her place in just over an hour, I was suddenly desperate to connect with her. Even as I was doing it, I recognized my need as insecurity, wanting to reassure myself that she was still there, and still wanted me. Still wanted this.

  Want me to bring dinner?

  I’m cooking. Massaman curry. Arrive hungry.

  Always. Be there in an hour.

  Penny waited while I raced through showering and overnight bag-packing. I swear that since the first night, every time Penny took me to Crown Heights, she’d grown more and more gleeful. When she stopped outside the apartment building and turned the ignition off, I leaned forward and placed a hand on Penny’s shoulder. “Pen?”

  “Yes, Ms. Rhodes?” She twisted around as best she could without shrugging my hand from her shoulder.

  “Thank you for what you did for Audrey, for…telling her about the job.” I swallowed, unable to say what I really wanted to. Thank you for bringing her into my life.

  “You’re welcome, Ms. Rhodes.” Pen dipped her head, seeming suddenly shy. “One of my better decisions.”

  “Yes,” I mused quietly.

  As I stepped onto Audrey’s floor, I spotted her opening her door as though she’d had an ear trained for the sound of the elevator. Waiting for me. I couldn’t stop my smile. The first thing I thought was that she looked relieved. It was so slight I thought I’d imagined it until she murmured how much she’d missed me, kissing me hungrily. Warmth spread through my chest before I could stop it. “Yeah?”

  She strung kisses along my jaw, tugging me inside her apartment. “Yeah.”

  We settled on the couch for the dinner she’d made, facing each other. Audrey wiped her hands on a paper napkin. “A friend of mine is in town just for tomorrow. Would you mind awfully if we saw each other Wednesday instead?”

  “Course not.” I moved things around on my plate, stabbing another forkful. “Did you have a good weekend?” Not bitter about being left alone for the weekend, no sir not me.

  “Absolutely. I won five hundred bucks on roulette and attended a number of fine adult establishments.” Audrey widened her eyes. “And I got myself a happy
ending lap dance. I contemplated getting a hooker, but couldn’t find one hot enough who did women.”

  I set my plate on her coffee table. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” I was quite proud of myself for keeping bitterness from my voice. If she wanted to get fingered by a stripper, who was I to be pissy about it?

  Sure, keep telling yourself that, Isabelle.

  Audrey took my face in her hands. Her hands were always so warm and soft, and I felt comforted by the gentle touch. “Iz. Look at me,” she sighed. “You’re so smart, yet so very gullible. You’re too easy. I’m teasing. None of that’s true, except for the roulette part. Well, technically it was five hundred and forty-eight dollars.” Audrey let go and slid off the couch. “I’m not seeing anyone else in any way. It’s just you and it’s only been you since our first night.”

  I exhaled. “Oh. Me too.”

  She kneeled in front of me. “The happy ending was from myself on Saturday night, thinking about how hot it was listening to you making yourself come. But it wasn’t all that happy.” She took my hand, interlacing our fingers. “I missed these fingers.”

  With her kneeling and me slouched on the couch we were almost level. I pulled her close until she was jammed against my legs. Her gaze moved between my eyes and my mouth. “You know what else I missed?” Audrey asked.

  I shook my head slowly. “No. Please tell me.”

  Her answer was to kiss me, her tongue searching for mine. She found it quickly and the familiar urge began to build in my stomach when she bit my lip. Audrey’s voice got even lower when she continued with, “That tongue.”

  The kiss turned frantic when we came together again and her hands slipped around my waist to drag me to the edge of the couch. I let out a groan as her hip pressed against me, my legs wrapping around her ass to keep her in place. Fire spread through my belly down into my groin, and I had a thought. About us. Bad timing. Stop. I should be thinking about pleasure, not deep things. Instead I was thinking that I could do it, I could do this. I could have all of it. All of her. If she’d have me. I couldn’t imagine growing tired of making love to her. I couldn’t imagine growing tired of her.

  Her hot tongue made its way up my neck to my ear. Teeth grazed my earlobe. “Hold on, cowgirl. It’s going to be a wild ride.”

  I forgot about my conviction, laughing as she pulled me off the couch and onto the floor with her. The laughter died pretty quickly when her hands moved to other parts of my anatomy. Slowly, she pulled the zipper of my jeans down, her eyes locked to mine the whole time. She stared right into me and I was overcome by the sudden desire to slow down. Make love instead of fuck.

  Audrey’s hands stilled and she eased herself off me and stood. Without a word of explanation, she pulled me to my feet and led me to her bedroom. As though she’d read something on my face, she’d turned from playful and frantic to soft and sensual. Our lovemaking was sweet and slow. Gentle touches and quiet words. She pressed her forehead to my cheek and as she came, I felt the long shudder and her soft exhalation.

  For some reason I couldn’t fathom—maybe it was our exquisite connection, maybe it was how close I was to telling her how I really felt—but I started to cry. Not full on ugly crying or even sobbing, just letting tears track down my cheeks. Audrey untangled herself. Her dark eyes were soft with concern. “Everything all right, Iz?” She stroked gently along my ribs.

  “Sorry. Just tired and worn out from therapy.” More like I was worn out from my own internal battles. I pulled a stupid face and swiped my hand over my eyes.

  If she suspected the real reason for my distress she didn’t let on. “Come here.” She held me close with her nose in my hair and fingers tracing patterns on my skin. I fell asleep in minutes.

  The next morning, nothing was said about my little meltdown, and for once, Audrey walked me to the door of her apartment. Usually she stayed in bed while I slipped out before dawn to go home and get ready for my workday. She picked up a brown paper-wrapped package from the utility closet and offered it to me. It was flat, about two feet square and weighed little.

  I turned it over, running my finger over a taped seam. “What’s this?”

  She shrugged. “Just something I’ve been working on in my painting class. Don’t open it until you get home.” Her cheeks were pink. Deliciously so. I couldn’t recall seeing her blush before.

  “A painting. For me?” My voice lifted an octave with my question. I bit my lip. “Thank you!”

  In that moment, something passed between us. Something I couldn’t name. I thought I saw unasked questions in her expression. Maybe it was just wishful thinking but I wanted to believe there was something more. Something deeper. I almost asked her. Blurted it out right then. Spilled my feelings. But then she kissed me and I lost my nerve and instead mumbled, “I’ll see you Wednesday.”

  William took my painting, then passed it back over for me to hold rather than tossing it into the trunk. The whole ride home I ran my fingertips lightly over the wrapping, wondering what secrets were held inside.

  The moment I’d closed my front door and dropped my bags, I tore into the brown paper. It was a pale blue canvas, and slightly off center was a naked woman tangled in sheets. It was minimalistic with rough lines and edges but still beautifully clear. The backdrop was done in such a way that suggested the whole canvas was the bed, shadows and faint lines marking edges. Light blue. The color of Audrey’s sheets.

  I looked closely at the woman in the painting. Her features were vague—straight nose, a smattering of freckles. I ran my fingers over the bridge of my nose. Painting woman had blond curls, an arm slung under her head and stretched off the bed. The way I slept. I looked closer. The outstretched hand had a mark on the underside of the wrist. A small, unique tattoo that I recognized immediately. My breath caught.

  It was me. She’d painted me.

  Chapter Twenty

  Having not heard from Audrey at all Tuesday, on Wednesday morning while eating breakfast at my desk, I texted to make sure we were still on for that night. I was done eating and my teeth were re-brushed but she hadn’t responded. Probably sleeping off a hangover from her night out with friends. Poor darling.

  Darling…

  After a salon appointment over lunch, I went head down and ass up working until a knock on my open office door startled me from calculations. “Ms. Rhodes?” Donna from HR stood tentatively in my doorway.

  “Donna.” I glanced at her eight-months pregnant stomach. “How are you?”

  “Aside from feeling like an elephant, I’m wonderful.”

  I stood and gestured to the other side of my desk. “Did you want to take a seat? What can I do for you?”

  “I’m fine thank you. I’ve been sitting all day.” Donna held out a folder to me. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I can’t find Mr. Hall and I need some medical leave approved.”

  “Is everything all right?” I asked hurriedly, and simultaneously wondering where Mark was this time—this was his side of the business.

  Donna laughed. “Sorry, it’s not for me. It’s for Audrey Graham.”

  First I’d heard of it. Poor thing probably had the flu or something. She’d looked a little tired on Monday night and going out all last night drinking wouldn’t have helped. I took the papers, already thinking about taking her soup or something. “How long?”

  “Medical certificate clears her until next Wednesday.”

  A week for the flu, she’d need at least that. “Sure thing. I’ll take a look and have it back to you, ASAP.”

  “Thanks.” Donna smiled gratefully and left my office.

  I glanced at the details. Balancing a pen between my index and middle fingers, I flipped it quickly back and forth on the blotter. The rhythmic tapping stopped the moment I read the details on Audrey’s medical certificate.

  Vehicular accident.

  Oh God.

  I pushed my chair back so fast it hit the low bureau behind me. “Clare!” I already had my laptop unplugged and tablet shoved
haphazardly in my leather tote.

  “Yes, Ms. Rhodes?”

  Gathering my bags, I scooted around my desk, catching my thigh on the edge. Panic spilled out my mouth in a stream of words all running together. “Call a car around and cancel everything for the rest of the day. I’m leaving.” I yanked my coat from the hanger in my small closet near the door. “Please.”

  “You have that app—”

  “Cancel it.” I was already rushing through the office, phone in my hand. “Send anything urgent to me, end of world shit only. I’m off the grid.” In the elevator I called Audrey and got voice mail. I left a babbling message.

  Downstairs, I ran through the lobby as fast as my Ferragamos could carry me, out the front door and to William and the waiting car. “Take me to Crown Heights, please. Quickly.”

  Queasy fear curled through my stomach as I dialed her. Voice mail again. I left another message. We hit traffic and the thirty-minute drive stretched to almost forty-five. All three calls I made went straight to Audrey’s voice mail. All three messages I left were panicked.

  Knowing the anxiety attack was baseless didn’t stop it. She’d notified HR that she needed medical leave so she was obviously alive. A week off wasn’t that serious. Despite constantly trying to reassure myself, I couldn’t rationalize. All I could think of was her, hurt badly.

  Yanking up my bags and coat strewn over the back seat, I slid from the car before William could come around to open the door. I buzzed Audrey. No answer. I buzzed obnoxiously again and again until finally there was a hoarse and slightly grumpy, “What?”

  A gentle flood of adrenaline spread through my limbs. “Audrey, it’s me.” To my ears, my voice sounded weak and unsteady.

  The grumpiness in her voice disappeared. “Iz? What are you doing here?”

  “Are you okay? Can you let me up, please?”

  The door clicked and I rushed through, throwing a thank you over my shoulder at a bewildered William.

  Audrey opened the door of her apartment, holding a hand up to stop me speaking. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” Her right eye was shadowed above a purplish bruise spreading to her jaw and the side of her chin was raw, like it’d been swiped with a cheese grater.