by Leigh Hays
The dom—Diane—looked up and extended a hand. “Want a taste?”
“Lindsey’s” head came up, and Rebekiah’s arousal vanished. Up close, she looked nothing like her. Attractive in that same sort of way, but the features were all wrong.
Stepping back, Rebekiah lifted her camera and said, “I’m good with this.”
Diane shrugged and said, “Suit yourself.”
She stayed with them for a couple more minutes, taking a few shots she’d never use. It felt rude to see her face and turn tail, but her mood was gone. She wandered away, on the cusp of leaving when Neil’s voice cut through the cacophony of music and various sex acts. He waved her over to a grouping of old couches and chairs where about a dozen people sat and talked. She let him introduce her to the mostly male group.
“And this is…” He paused at the only woman and tilted his head.
She reached across and shook Rebekiah’s hand. “Sabine.”
Rebekiah grabbed her hand and smiled. She looked and sounded familiar, but Rebekiah couldn’t place her. “Nice to meet you.”
They talked art and then music before the talk turned personal, and they splintered into smaller and smaller groups. Sabine kept looking at her as if she knew her, and that was when it hit her. Lindsey’s assistant. She reviewed her actions for the past hour. Her mind stumbled on the Lindsey look-alike. Did she see her and make the connection? She felt embarrassed and exposed, as if she had been caught cheating.
They’d left New York City two weeks ago on the same flight to Providence a few hours after Lindsey had been discharged from the hospital. She dropped her off at her apartment and then nothing but a few texts since. Not that she’d expected much. They’d shared an unexpected intimacy going from first kiss to hospital support in the span of a few weeks. Rebekiah suspected Lindsey needed time to build her defenses again, and she was willing to give her that. After the hospital visit, she wasn’t sure that she was ready to dive back in either. But seeing her clone here tonight had stirred up that original desire.
Sabine moved over and leaned in. “Did you figure it out?”
Her perfume pressed into Rebekiah’s nostrils, and she stared down the lace corset. The line of her breasts matched the seam and drew her eyes even lower.
Rebekiah swallowed, suddenly more nervous than she was expecting. “What?”
“Where you know me from?”
Rebekiah nodded. “Oh. Yeah, that.” She coughed and shifted away. “Lindsey’s assistant.”
Sabine leaned back. “More like her associate.”
“I see.” Rebekiah didn’t know the difference, but she didn’t say anything. “How’s she doing?”
Sabine ran a hand through her long black hair. She shifted sideways and propped her head in her hand. “You haven’t heard from her?”
“Just a couple texts.”
“Really.” She pursed her lips. “Interesting.”
“How so?”
“Lindsey doesn’t usually work with clients like you.”
“Yeah, she told me.” Rebekiah tried to figure out where the conversation was going.
“She should have passed you along to me once she signed you. She didn’t.”
“I’m sorry?”
Sabine laughed. “Me, too.” She straightened and said, “I’ve worked with her for six years. She’s very predictable. It’s good. I like it.” She waved her arms around the room. “I like structure, rules. Lindsey does, too.” She waved a finger. “But you…You do not.”
Why was she telling her this? An image of Lindsey on her knees, willing and wanting, flashed through her head. Rebekiah shrugged and played it cool. “What can I say?”
Sabine glanced across the room, and Rebekiah followed her line of sight. A handsome woman smiled at Sabine, and she smiled back. She reached across and patted Rebekiah’s hand. “Be careful with her.” She stood up and left.
Rebekiah sagged against the couch, surprised at how tense she was talking with Sabine. The constant up and down of her arousal left her exhausted and unfulfilled. Time to call it a night.
She didn’t bother to find Elena or Neil to say good-bye before shrugging into her winter coat and stepping outside. Snow covered everything in a fine layer, and the powder absorbed her footfalls across the parking lot. Slipping into her car, she closed the door and swiped open her phone. She found the chat history with Lindsey and reread her last text the day after they got back from Providence.
Just checking in.
Hey. I’m good. Tired, Lindsey had replied.
If you need anything…
Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. And thanks for the help in NYC.
No problem. Glad I could help, Rebekiah had answered.
I owe you.
No, you don’t.
We’ll reschedule with Gordon. Probably after the New Year. End of the year is his busy season. Text with details?
Sure. Rebekiah remembered waiting for a reply, but no dots appeared, and she’d put the conversation aside.
Nothing. For two weeks. At the time, she’d wanted to reach out, but didn’t know what to say. The hospital trip brought up unpleasant memories that she didn’t want associated with Lindsey. But the desire to see Lindsey was intense. She hadn’t forgotten the kiss, although she’d let Lindsey think she had. The vulnerability Rebekiah saw in New York only underscored her original interest in peeling back her layers to the person hiding underneath. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to call her.
A knock on her passenger window made her jump. Neil stood shivering with his arms wrapped around his torso. She started the car, rolled down the window, and leaned over the console. “Where’s your jacket?”
He shrugged. “Can’t find it. Open the door. I’m freezing my nuts off.”
She hit the automatic locks. He crawled in and slammed the door. His teeth chattered, and he sagged against the seat. “Brr. How long have you been sitting here?”
Rebekiah didn’t answer him. “What are you doing?”
Neil yawned. “I need a ride.”
Rebekiah shook her head. “I almost left without you.” She slipped her phone between the seats.
He nodded. “Who’s on the phone?”
“No one.”
He scooped it up and swiped it open. “Who’s Lindsey?”
She flipped the wipers on, sloughed off the snow, and backed out. “No one.” She changed the subject and pulled out of the parking lot. “No takers tonight?”
He put her phone back and shrugged. “A couple, but it’s a little too close to the holidays for me.” He adjusted the vents and fiddled with the temperature settings on his side. The Lexus had the extras. “Desperation sex is not really my gig.”
Rebekiah exhaled. Maybe that was it. These feelings with Lindsey. The seasonal push to connect.
“How’s your show coming?”
Rebekiah merged onto 95. Traffic moved smoothly—the snow was not sticking to the road. “Almost done.” She thought of the two finished sets. She’d taken the original shot of Meghan on her wall, shrunk it down, and blended it into another shot she took of a red gold marigold and then blew the whole picture up to a four-by-four semi-gloss print. She’d surrounded the warm tone with an off-white matte in a rust-orange frame. For the couple, Renee and Dawn, she’d arranged nine pictures in three horizontal triptychs mounted in a vertical series mirroring and mimicking their sexual images with the stems and petals of orchids. She chose black lacquer frames and metallic finish to accentuate the contrast and colors. She gave him the broad outlines of those two sets.
He clapped his hands. “I can’t wait. It’s been too long.”
Rebekiah murmured her agreement. Despite her initial reluctance, she’d really warmed to the idea and was looking forward to it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him shift and stare. She let him until he finally spoke.
“You okay?”
Rebekiah debated how much to reveal. “Yeah. I’m just worried about this last photograph.”
&
nbsp; “What’s wrong with it?”
“I can’t get her to sit for it.” That wasn’t entirely true. She hadn’t asked, and after the kiss and then New York, she wasn’t sure what she wanted.
Neil clutched his chest. “Oh my God. Pick someone else.” He waved behind him. “There was a whole warehouse full of exhibitionists back there.”
Rebekiah chuckled. “I know, but…”
Neil hummed and leaned back. “I’m going to assume that you’ve already cataloged all the things about her that you could find in someone else and found them lacking.”
“Mm-hmm.” But it was so much more than that.
“Then you have two options. Honesty or manipulation. If you already have a consent form, you could just work the situation with remotes and not tell her. But that shit’ll backfire quick. If it’s the sex part, is there a way you could work so she would feel less exposed?”
“Maybe, but I want to see her face when she comes.” Did she? Yes, but she knew there was more to it than that.
“See, this is the problem with the way you do art. Your ego gets involved, and you have to be a part of it.”
“It’s not that.”
It sounded weak to her ears. Even before Emma’s death, she’d needed an emotional connection to her subjects, and that desire for depth had intensified in the last few years. Since then, the number of times where she’d used her art to fuck someone was alarmingly high.
“I need to connect with my subjects.” Lindsey was no different. It didn’t matter that she was seeing her places or thinking about her all the time. She’d take the shots, and the feelings would stop. They always did.
Rolling his eyes, Neil snorted. “That’s some fucked-up shit from Thea.” Rebekiah’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Look, I’m just saying. Talk to her. She might say yes.”
Chapter Twelve
Lindsey logged in to Rebekiah’s account, clicked on the link that brought her into the JP Morgan site, and received an access denied. She tried again with the same result. She wanted to move money over to another account before year end. Frustrated, she called to Sabine’s desk, “Did you send the paperwork to JP Morgan for the Kearns account?”
Sabine glanced up from her monitor and nodded. “About two months ago.” She clicked a few keys. “Yep. October thirty-first. There’s a confirmation number.”
Lindsey frowned. She wasn’t this careless with her clients. She knew better. She should have followed up before now. Two months was a long time. Roger, Rebekiah, that stupid fever, she’d let them throw her off her game.
“You can’t get in?”
Lindsey shook her head.
Sabine glanced at her computer clock. “Let me give them a call before they leave for the day.”
“I can do it. It’s my fault.” Lindsey reached for her phone.
“No. I’ve got it.”
“Thanks.” She went back to work and glanced up when Sabine knocked on the door. Her expression said it all.
“They don’t have any record of receiving it.”
Lindsey wagged a finger at her. “And that’s why I don’t want them managing her money.” She stretched her shoulders. “So, we need another form. Signed.” Lindsey ran through the logistics in her head. Almost three weeks had passed since New York. She’d spent a week recuperating, which really meant no traveling and shorter work days, even working from home for the first few days.
After a brief text exchange after she got back, there was nothing. She wasn’t sure what to expect, and she wasn’t sure what she wanted. Rebekiah was a client, after all. But New York felt different. Rebekiah had seen her with her guard down. Even before New York, she’d let her see behind the mask. The line between their professional and personal relationship was fading.
But she still worked for her, so she picked up her phone and typed a short and apologetic text. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve,” she said aloud, “so if I want to do any of this before the holidays, I need to do it now.”
“I could drop it off if you’d like,” Sabine said.
Lindsey waved her off. “No, go home. Finish your shopping. I’ll track her down.” She wanted to see her and get a sense of where they stood.
Sabine left half an hour later with a “See you tomorrow.” Lindsey started wrapping up another hour later when her phone dinged.
Really? What kind of an operation are you running over there?
Relieved that their banter was intact, Lindsey smiled and typed back, Apparently, a half-ass one. I’ll compensate and bring dinner? A slight warning bell dinged in the back of her head that she quickly squashed.
Sounds good. Still at studio. Okay to meet there?
Sure. Any requests?
Surprise me.
Lindsey shook her head and packed up. She left work and walked home. She called in her order to the souvlaki house on Pine Street and changed into casual clothes before coming back down.
She didn’t bother calling. She waited for a half a minute, then checked the door and found it unlocked. “Hello?” Bright lights filled the end of the room and the rest of the studio. Music played so loud that it was obvious why Rebekiah hadn’t heard. She was just about to announce her presence again when Sera barked a greeting.
The music stopped, and Rebekiah popped her head around the corner. “Hey. You made it.”
Lindsey brought the paper bags to the coffee table. Sera wound around her legs and sniffed at the bags. Setting her messenger bag down, she crouched on the floor and caught Sera’s face in her hands for a big sloppy kiss.
Rebekiah grabbed a couple plates, and Lindsey opened up the bags and set to work putting out the meal. Greek salad with romaine leaves, big tomato wedges, black kalamatas, sprinkled with feta cheese. Aluminum wrapped gyros stuffed with lamb, lettuce, onions, tomatoes, feta cheese, and tzatziki sauce. Grilled octopus, dolmades, pita bread, olives, and a soft goat cheese emerged from the bag, and for dessert, a pair of crispy golden baklava triangles. She felt a jolt of happiness at the domesticity of the moment.
Rebekiah sank down next to her with a couple of bottled waters. “Here. It looks wonderful.” She picked up her gyro, unwrapped it, and took a huge bite. “Mmm.”
Lindsey smiled and speared a piece of octopus. She tapped her fork against the container. “Then try this.” She held her fork aloft and tilted her head in invitation for Rebekiah to take a bite.
Rebekiah leaned over and intercepted her bite. Chewing, she grinned. “Oh…that’s tender.”
Expecting her to take the fork, Lindsey did not anticipate the spike of desire when Rebekiah leaned in and snapped it up. She almost dropped it as the reason she’d been avoiding her became crystal clear. She didn’t trust herself to be alone with her. Before she could respond to that, she felt a nudge against her thigh. Sera glanced from her to Rebekiah with a hopeful look on her face. Lindsey reached over and passed the dog a piece of octopus. Sera gulped it down in one bite.
Rebekiah’s mouth dropped open. “Did you…you didn’t just feed my dog off the table?” Her whole face registered complete disbelief.
Lindsey stopped in mid-bite and put her fork down. “Why?”
Rebekiah brought her hand to her forehead and covered her eyes. She groaned and shook her head. “Oh my God, Lindsey, you are such a sucker.”
“What? She seems like she does it all the time.”
Rebekiah pulled her hands away. “That’s because hope springs eternal in the mind of a dog.” She sighed and pointed toward the far wall and Sera’s dog bed. “Go lie down.” Sera looked at her and then at Lindsey. “Sera, lie down.” Sera’s butt twitched, but she still stared at Lindsey.
Rebekiah glanced at Lindsey, and Lindsey mirrored her gesture and tone. “Sera, lie down.”
Sera’s body sagged, and she crawled to her bed. She snorted and rooted around for a bit before she finally settled.
“Aww.” Lindsey felt bad sending her away.
Rebekiah rolled her eyes. “Oh no, you don’t.”
“
But she looked so sad.” Someone needed to stand up for her.
“And when she throws up all over your kitchen because she’s grown accustomed to human food so she knocks over the garbage can to eat it, you can remember how sad she was.”
Lindsey nodded and waved her fork in the air. “Good point.”
“Uh-huh,” Rebekiah muttered before she bit into her gyro.
They ate in silence for a while, and Lindsey was surprised at how comfortable it was. Rebekiah engaged her in quiet nonverbal cues and smiles, and it felt good. So many people in her life took her silence the wrong way, including most of her former lovers. Conversation required work, and although she was good at it, she tended toward quiet when she let her guard down.
She finished dinner quickly—years of bolting food and running had created a speed eating habit—and Rebekiah reached for her plate. “All set?”
Lindsey smiled. “Yeah. Here, I got that.” She helped clear up their meal and then held out her oily hands. “Do you have a bathroom?”
Rebekiah nodded. “Out the front door, take a right, and there’s two unisex bathrooms.” Rebekiah ruffled Sera’s head. “I need to take this one out for a walk.” Sera got up and danced around at that word. “Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Lindsey returned from the bathroom and wandered toward the main part of the studio. Spotting the bookshelf, she perused the titles, hoping to get a glimpse into Rebekiah’s psyche. Books sometimes told a different story. Mostly coffee table and exhibition books; she idly pulled them in and out to get a better look. A picture fluttered to the floor just as Rebekiah walked in with Sera in tow.
She leaned down and picked it up. Two women lay on a wide white bed with their calves wrapped around the other, something so personal and so immediately intimate about them. “Did you take this?”
Rebekiah glanced at the photo in Lindsey’s hand and shook her head. “No.” She took it and tipped it toward the light. “But there’s something about this one that I really like. I’m trying to figure it out.”
