by Gia Sola
“It’s the eroticism of it,” Maya says. “I would have come just watching us. I will come alone in my bed just thinking of this, of the way we look with that strap-on...of the feeling of your smooth ass and belly, the feeling of your tits bouncing against mine; the touch of your mouth, your skin, so soft.”
“So different from a man. Even as some other things are the same in some ways.”
Maya inches back to sit up against the headboard. “I wonder who that man was who called me while I was in the bathtub after work yesterday. I never checked the message. I would’ve taken the call if I hadn’t had the idea of doing this with you. I was in that tub and didn’t want to be thinking of a man at that moment. Only you. Amazing.”
“Wow,” Wendy says, moving out from under the blanket. “You already had the idea of making love with me?” She turns around so she’s lying on her belly as she looks up at Maya, then she puts an elbow on the bed and cups her chin in her hand.
“Well, yes. You did too,” Maya says. “You had that dildo all ready.”
“Yeah, I did. I deserve another spanking.”
Maya smiles down at her, and lowers her voice. “I’ve never done any of this before, you know.”
“Oh, that’s what we all say, honey!” Wendy laughs.
“I’ve got to keep up the angelic image, you know.”
“I thought you said you were the Devil.”
“Demon, I think I said. Although, I could be the Devil...there’s some ancient ache that wells up inside of me sometimes...something that makes me think I’ve lived in another dimension. And yet, I like to think of myself as an angel. I guess heaven would be another dimension too. Maybe I’ve got a little of everything going on. Like I’m some angelic demon. Or a demonic angel.”
Now Wendy sits up to face her. “So why me?” She senses Maya’s body language shift, feeling a slight stiffening, and she takes her hand off her knee. “Don’t answer. And don’t worry about this, Maya. It’s okay.” She smiles and then she stretches, and clasping her hands behind her neck, puts her head back and looks up at the ceiling fan. “At the moment, it’s food I’m aching for. Can I buy you that birthday meal now?”
“What is it that happened in your childhood that gave you this thing about birthdays?”
“Oh, I guess it was just that my parents were unavailable and I was usually celebrating my birthday by myself when I was young.”
“I know you really got off on us last night. But to repeat what I said, if I’m going to be looking for something strange and erotic, it’s that idea of us with that man that would be the best turn-on.”
“I thought you wanted to stay and cha-cha with me all weekend? Not exotic enough?”
“I tend to get caught up in the moment,” Maya says. “At that moment, it was perfect. It was erotic and exotic. And I would still like to venture out in public and kiss you - that would be exciting too. But in reality, I guess I’m not built that way, to live that way. Like you said.”
“You’re built beautifully,” Wendy says, touching Maya’s hair again. “But you want a threesome, so let’s do it. That’s what got you hot in the dining room yesterday, isn’t it?”
“Partly. Same for you too, no? It was pretty exciting when our fingers were touching, and then he came in the door, and wow! Although, maybe I wouldn’t be getting so hot over the idea of it if I weren’t fantasizing so much lately.”
“Just lately?”
“It’s been kind of strange, actually...I keep having these recurring fantasy dreams...the fantasy that the man is some kind of monster...or master.”
“Is that why you talk about devils and angels? You really like the submissive thing, huh?”
“Oh...I don’t know. After last night, I guess I could say I like it both ways.”
“Me too. I like it both ways too. Especially after last night.”
Maya smiles at Wendy. “But this idea of bondage, I don’t usually go for that in real life. I mean, nobody can tie me down - although they can tie me up, if they’re gonna tease me before they fuck me” - she laughs - “but in terms of the way I live my life, it’s not been easy finding a guy, because I’m strong-willed and I like my freedom...as well as my own authority. In my fantasies, though, I find the notion of submission very erotic.”
“Me too. Kiss me again.” Wendy says, putting a hand on Maya’s shoulder and pulling her closer.
The musky smell of perfumed sweat and other secretions hangs over the bed like a cumulous cloud, so thick it might rain down on them any minute. But their embrace isn’t as intense as the night before and they separate.
“Sex is cerebral,” Wendy says, kicking a leg out from under the bedcovers.
“Yes, it’s all in our heads,” Maya responds. “But it does create an appetite. I’m starving.”
“Well, let’s go to lunch then! I like to lunch at hotels. How about the Plaza?”
“Yes.”
It’s one o’clock when they head out of the apartment to brave a wind blowing in an early spring frost. They lock arms and lean against each other as they walk downtown toward the Plaza, deciding to stop at Bloomingdale’s on the way. A blast of heat greets them at the store entrance, and they take off their coats while Maya purchases lipstick and some stockings she puts on in the dressing room. Wendy follows, closing the door, and then she pushes Maya up against it to kiss her.
“It’s like you’re a guy sneaking into the ladies’ room.”
“I know,” Wendy laughs. “Well, I am the one literally wearing the pants!”
“You’re so girl-y, but then you get this testosterone-y attitude. I like that... I think it would be fun to have my turn at it, to kiss you in public just to live out what we were talking about.”
“We’re two thirds there,” Wendy says. “All we need is the man to complete the fantasy.”
A half hour later, they’re in the Plaza. Having decided against the Palm Court, they ventured over to the bar where they’re sharing oysters and drinking champagne cocktails. It’s here that Maya decides to go public. She has a hand on Wendy’s shoulder when she sees that strangely familiar man enter the room.
iii.
Luke had seen enough at yesterday’s lunch table to know their bed wouldn’t be all encompassing later on. And so, he’d headed downtown, walking half way from Columbia to the Plaza before hailing a cab at 86th. Back at the hotel, he’d wandered through the Palm Court, busy at tea time, on his way to the bar. His usual boredom had given way to something more earthly, putting him on the edge of some other sensibility, and he found himself sauntering among the linen-covered, silver-set tables occupied by women wearing too much makeup, by girls in velvet dresses, by men and boys sporting tweed. Choosing a vantage point along the perimeter, he’d stood watching in detached observation. But it was not his cup of tea. He’d continued on into the bar, had two quick drinks and then went upstairs to his apartment for the night.
And yet entanglements relieve ennui. And on the dawn of the new day, despite his rule about having no regrets, he rues not putting forth the effort to step between those two women. He could have taken them home, laid them down.
He gets out of bed, shying away from the bright light at the window. It isn’t a hangover from last night affecting him this morning (although he did finish off that bottle of Jack.) Rather, it’s an ache of a different kind - another thirst he’d just have to quench another day. He leaves his rooms and heads down into the lobby with its proletariat population. The wind is whipping through the open service door as a bellhop transfers baggage for people checking out, checking in. He sidesteps them all and approaches the front desk to check for his mail. But he has no patience to wait and no desire to leave. The outside air is cold. He’s cold inside. Cognac will warm things up.
The door to the Oak Room seems heavier today. He pulls it open with a weari
ness that dissipates when he looks around and sees the women. It was the same women he was too hesitant to approach yesterday, the women who nevertheless found their way to him today. It must be some divine intervention, he thinks, remembering more of the words of his old friend. He makes a bee-line for the bar.
“Hello, Miss Maya Bartolo, anthropomorphic expert. It’s delightful to see you again.” He extends his hand.
She keeps her hands in her lap. “Yes,” she says, as she finds her voice. “But I’m afraid you have the advantage.”
“I do?” He smiles, puts his hand back in his pants pocket. “You don’t remember then?”
“Remember?”
“Ah, well...it may be lucky in a way, but I’m certain your amnesia was unintentioned.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Yesterday. I, uh, I’m talking about yesterday when I was at your lecture.” He smiles again, and now he nods to the other woman. “I was lucky enough to see you both there.”
“Oh, I know that,” Maya says. “You’re the cowboy in the Armani suit.” She looks down at his feet and then into his eyes, before offering him her hand. He takes it with a firm grip and holds it.
“Changed my shoes,” he says. “But not my mind.”
“Pardon?”
“Yesterday. I was about to approach you and offer congratulations on your very interesting topic when I was, uh, interrupted, shall we say? I mean, your attention seemed otherwise occupied.” He nods again at the blond. “So, let me take this opportunity to say it was delightful to be in your audience, Maya. You’re still beautiful...so beautiful, I mean. And nothing could’ve been more engaging than to see you, to watch you, to listen to you speak.” He kisses the back of her hand before returning it.
She looks over at her friend, and then looks back at him. “Why, thank you. We both saw you there in the audience. Didn’t we Wendy?” She turns to Wendy again.
Her long, wavy hair is loose. He wonders where she put the ribbon. “This is Wendy Finch,” she says.
He steps between them. “Pleased to meet you, Wendy. I’m Luke Degas. Hope you don’t forget my name.” He bows and takes Wendy’s hand to his lips.
She smiles at him before looking over at Maya. “I’ll remember. We don’t get kissed like this very often, do we Maya.”
“Luke?”
Luke drops Wendy’s hand, turning to Maya, whose brow is damp with sweat.
She puts her hand across her chest. “Oh my. I once knew someone...”
“Someone who?” He lowers his voice. “Someone you thought you’d never get over, right? But then you did, right? Or no?”
Her shudder is subtle but it doesn’t escape him and he takes advantage of it. Brushing her hair aside - and her dangly earring - he puts his lips to her neck and kisses her.
He’s annoyed when Wendy interrupts to ask, “What part of the universe are you from, Luke?”
“This may not be where I started out,” he says, “but I’m here now.” Pleased that Maya didn’t object to his bold move, he motions for the bartender. “Another round for the ladies, Joe,” he calls. “Remy for me.”
Maya leans toward him, keeping her shoulders back and her breasts forward. “Are you with the University?” Her face is flushed, even as her wide eyes narrow to scrutinize his face.
“No. But I like bees” - he winks at her--“and birds.” Turning his head, he looks at Wendy, who can’t look away. Then he turns back to Maya. “I’m an investment advisor - with customers in academia” - he stops to smile - “and other places. I make the rounds of this City...and other places. I’m out there trying to keep abreast of the market, keep my finger on the pulse of things.”
“You’re a money broker?” Wendy says. “But not a Shakespearean usurer, are you?”
“I’m no Shylock.” He laughs. “It’s to my advantage to make sure people get what they want in this materialistic, hedonistic society, but - ”
“But then, in the end,” Maya says, “we sometimes get what we deserve, don’t we?”
Luke drops his shoulders as he looks down at her. “What we deserve...or what we need. Certainly” - now he has to force a smile - “but sometimes my clientele must suffer losses...whether on account of the market. Or on account of their greed.”
“Well,” Maya says, “you know what Gordon Gekko said, ‘Greed is good.’”
“Well, you know what happened to old Gordie.” He motions for the bartender, orders another round.
“You’re an investment advisor,” Maya says, “and you don’t think greed is good?”
“Oh, greed is good alright. Just ask my ex-wife. But it can lead to a state of perdition - and that’s the moment when I step in.”
“Ah, what would your ex-wife think about you promoting yourself as a savior? Perhaps that’s what I see in your eyes.”
“Well, this is a relatively new gig for me so a little self-promotion doesn’t hurt, and let’s keep my ex-wife out of the conversation.” Luke wonders about her characterization; he turns away, toward Wendy.
“Just what we all need,” Wendy says.
“And what is it that we all need? An ex?”
“Someone to rescue us from ourselves,” she says. She nods at Maya, and then describes the scene in the university café - and tells him they’d both seen him leaning against the wall in the auditorium and had then seen him come into the cafe, making no mention of their little tete a tete, which he’d witnessed. She continues with the story, offering unflattering comments about Jack Bernard, the professor, as the bartender pours the cognac for Luke and pops a cork to mix more champagne cocktails. When he sets the glasses on the bar in front of them, Wendy is painting a mental picture of honeybee sperm splattered across Maya’s finger nails, and soon enough, they’re all laughing as Wendy raises a toast to ‘curmudgeons everywhere.’
And then Luke tells them Jack has been his client for years, that their mothers were old friends, living in the South of France.
“Whoops!” Wendy bats her eyelashes, flirting with him.
But he likes the other one better, and lets her lure him back.
“I’ll bet you’re a good son and visit your mother often.”
“In fact, I go at least twice a year...finding some reason to do business, even while pursuing my pleasure.”
“Ah, Paris is for lovers...and pleasure! I’ll be looking to find some pleasure in Paris next year when I go for business; that is, if I get a place at the conference table. One day I will move to France and live there.” Maya’s smile is sensual, so too her body language. But there’s something in her voice that summons up a memory he’d been trying to suppress. It’s uncomfortable, and yet he likes it.
“So tell me,” she continues, “what is it that brought you to my lecture? And then to the cafe where you didn’t sit down to eat? And now, it just seems too coincidental that you’re here at the Plaza.” She looks at Wendy, then turns and smiles at him with a certain amount of bravado. “Does that kiss mean you’re following one of us?”
“Following both of you, perhaps.” He looks from one to the other.
“I’ve heard such men are dangerous,” Wendy says.
“Danger is my game,” he says, and turning back to Maya, adds, “Wanna play?”
Maya sets her glass on the bar and faces him. “You like the odds? Two of us, one of you?”
Wendy leans across him and smiles at Maya. “Seems to me ‘Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look.’ ”
“Julius Caesar,” he responds. “ ‘He reads much; he is a great observer, and he looks quite through the deeds of men.’ I like you two. You go well together.”
“That last line could open a lot of doors,” Wendy says. “It’s a pretty good pickup line.”
“And a knowing one too,” Maya says.
“Yes. All-knowing, Maya,” Luke says, as he takes Maya’s hand off her lap to kiss it.
She allows him hold her hand longer than proper etiquette would suggest is proper; but then, she’d already allowed him to kiss her throat. Now she tilts her head in the same way that Wendy had done, and says, “Thank you for the kisses. I was beginning to wonder...”
“Wonder what?”
“Why your first kiss was for Wendy.”
“We must choose our moments, cherie.”
“Luke. Why is it that I think I know you? Why is your name Luke?”
“Never ask ‘why’, cherie. It’s better to say ‘why not?’”
“Interesting, you are.”
“You too. You alone...the two of you...and both of you together. I’ve been imagining you together. It was like fire...flames lapping all over you, burning, burning.”
“Funny, that’s what I was thinking,” Wendy says.
“Indeed.”
Maya taps his chest. “You like things hot, don’t you?”
“You do too.” He puts a hand on the back of her head and then kisses her mouth. Again, she doesn’t resist. But he doesn’t push it, or prolong it.
“I hate restraining myself, Ladies,” he says. “Thank you both for indulging me. Now, what would you like? Would you like to stay at the bar? Or retire to a booth?”
“We can handle a booth, can’t we, girlfriend?”
“I guess we’ve had enough alcohol to take us there. So...yes, we can.”
Luke steers Maya across the room, holding her elbow, and ushers her into the banquet seat. He slides in next to her and motions for Wendy to sit on his left. The bartender follows them, transferring their drinks to the booth, carrying the glasses and a bowl of pretzels on a tray. Luke waits until the bartender returns to his post. “So,” he says, “it seemed I was interrupting something when I walked in on you this afternoon...and not for the first time. We’re comfortable enough now, don’t you think? Perhaps you have secrets you’d like to share? I’m a gentleman. I can keep a secret.”
“Think he can keep a secret?” Maya nods toward the bartender. She moistens her lips with her tongue and then picks up a pretzel.
