Bliss

by Fiona Zedde

  "Thanks, Shelly." She ignored her secretary's curious look and slid the books into her briefcase. "See you tomorrow."

  At home, Sinclair propped the card up on the edge of the tub while she took her bath. Earlier, she'd sniffed the card, brushed it under her nose, and found the light scent of mint that clung to it. She stretched out under the bubbles and leaned back against the inflatable pillow propped up against the back of the tub. Irresistibly, her eyes wandered to the card again. Regina Velasquez. At the book release party, Regina had been polite yet mischievous, especially after Yuen came back with Linnet. She flirted shamelessly with Sinclair as if putting on a show for Yuen, touching the small of his girlfriend's back, refilling her drinks, even kissing her lingeringly on the cheek when they said their goodbyes. At first Yuen seemed titillated, then annoyed. By the end of the evening he and Regina both seemed to be in competition over who could be the most solicitous to Sinclair's needs. Sinclair had been content to sit back and enjoy their attentions. She hoped that neither of them had known just how much Regina had intrigued her.

  Fresh from her bath, her body still steaming from its heat, Sinclair slid naked into bed to read Regina's first book. It was a collection of essays on sex and love. Making Sex, Having Love. Nice title.

  The first time someone else touched me with the intent to pleasure, I fell in love. Not with that person, but with the act itself. Such intimacy and accord. Even with the awkwardness of first time lovers there was a grace and purity, carnal and beautiful, that I knew from that moment on I could never live without.

  Sinclair slid down into the covers and continued reading. This was a woman who unabashedly loved sex. The more she read, the more descriptive and less academic Regina's prose became. Sinclair squeezed her thighs together and crossed a hand over her stiffening nipples. Regina was very good. She imagined the slight woman reading the words aloud, her soft red mouth shaping the seduction, an invitation to fall into her silken trap. And Sinclair was seduced. In the cool seclusion of her bedroom, she felt Regina's hands on her, touching her skin, teasing, satisfying. All these things that she wrote about aroused Sinclair's curiosity-the goodnatured teasing among friends that eventually became a thoroughly gratifying group orgy, going down on a lover in a crowded subway station, the scorching wave of a shared orgasm in a cozy bed for three. All these were alien experiences to Sinclair. Regina's words made her long for them. Her fin gets slid down between her thighs. She didn't fall asleep until almost five in the morning.

  The office intercom buzzed and Shelly's voice filled the air. "Regina Velasquez calling for you, Miss Sinclair."

  Sinclair's fingers twitched against the computer keys and typed three extra t's.

  "Put her through."

  She took a deep breath and picked up the phone.

  "You didn't call me last night." Regina's southern drawl wrapped around the words like hot molasses.

  "I didn't know that I was supposed to."

  "You were, but I forgive you. Did you read any of my essays?"

  "Yes. A few." Sinclair wiped her damp palms on her slacks.

  "What did you think?"

  "They're good. Very ... vivid."

  Regina laughed again while Sinclair's stomach rearranged itself. "That's something, I suppose."

  "Is that how you pick up people?"

  "What makes you think I was trying to pick you up?" Regina asked.

  Sinclair had walked right into that one. In all of Regina's essays, she never once mentioned the gender of the person she was with. There had been body parts sprinkled throughout, a liberal mentioning of penises and vaginas, breasts and buttocks that left Sinclair absolutely bewildered and painfully aroused.

  "Are you?" Sinclair felt bold enough to ask.

  "Yes." The other woman's laughter was full bodied and captivating. Sinclair imagined Regina throwing her head back, white teeth flashing, her long neck arched.

  "Well, you know that I'm seeing someone," Sinclair said. Her hand tightened on the phone. Yuen had never made her feel like this. Hot in her belly and dry-mouthed. Sinclair knew that she should have been more nervous, hesitant, but Regina's seduction was so shameless and genuine that her own responses were too.

  "So am I," Regina said. "Do you want to come to dinner with me tonight?"

  She couldn't say no. Her body remembered the promise in Regina's book, in her low laughter. But she hesitated. What about Yuen? He would be expecting to see her soon, maybe even tonight. What would be her excuse? Sorry darling, this stranger propositioned me and I was a little curious about my attraction to women so I'm going to try her out and see what happens. That obviously wouldn't work.

  In the end Sinclair called to invite him to breakfast on Sunday, apologizing that she couldn't see him before then. Still, she knew he would call to wrangle an invitation to Saturday dinner as well. She'd deal with that when the time came. In the meantime she tried to convince herself that there was nothing for her to feel guilty about. At least not yet.

  Dinner was at a Mediterranean restaurant near Regina's house. The decor was stark. Sky blue walls and white columns, the scent of olives in the air despite whatever else was going on in the kitchen. Regina pulled Sinclair's chair out for her, then waited until she sat down.

  "I have a few suggestions, if you don't mind," she murmured near Sinclair's ear.

  Sinclair didn't mind. She'd never been to a place like this before and welcomed guidance. When the dark-haired waitress appeared, Regina took charge.

  "We'll have the moussaka, dolmas, the stuffed shrimp with spinach and feta, tiropita, and a bottle of your house red."

  That was her idea of making a few suggestions? She saw Sinclair's expression and laughed again. "I know. I'm overbearing, but you'll love it. I promise." Her eyes gleamed. "You have to try everything."

  When the food came, Sinclair picked over it cautiously, prodding the dolmas-grape leaves stuffed with rice and herbs, apparently-and barely tasted the moussaka with its unpalatable blend of eggplant, ground beef, and zucchini swimming in a god-awful white sauce. The spanakopita was good though. Sinclair sipped her wine and watched Regina. The writer ate her meal in big, voluptuous bites that left her mouth white with bechamel sauce. Her pink tongue swept the paleness away in preparation for another bite.

  "Come, taste this." Regina held a dolma perched between her thumb and index finger. When Sinclair lifted her hand to take it, she pulled it away and shook her head. "With your mouth."

  Regina fed her the dolma, waiting patiently while her teeth bit through the thick concoction of grape leaves and seasoned rice, the soft pads of her fingers resting against Sinclair's lips all the while. Sinclair couldn't meet her eyes. She wondered briefly if she shouldn't be more uncomfortable with this. It didn't matter. She ate the other half of the dolma in one neat bite.

  "So the person that I met the other night, was that a man or a woman?"

  Sinclair almost choked on her wine. "Very funny. Yuen is very much a man."

  "A very beautiful one."

  "Yes. We've been together for about two years."

  "It's a serious relationship, then?"

  "It's exclusive, if that's what you mean."

  "Up until now." Regina's eyes danced in the candlelight. She was so sure of herself.

  "Until now." Sinclair released the admission, finally voicing her desire for much more than a friendship with this woman.

  "Does he please you in bed?" Regina bit into a flaky spinach pastry, then licked the crumbs from her mouth.

  "Yes. Yes, he does."

  "You don't sound so sure."

  "I think you're the one who doesn't want me to be sure. He does satisfy me in bed. Can we move beyond that, please?"

  "Of course." Regina sipped her wine. A bit of red lingered on her mouth. She caught Sinclair's gaze and smiled. "Curious?"

  Sinclair knew that she would be lying if she said no. Instead of replying she bit into her dolma and chewed as if that would save her from answering. Regina stood up over t
he low candles and leaned in to kiss her. Sinclair stopped chewing. Regina's lips pressed harder into hers, then softened. She licked Sinclair's mouth, bit the plump softness of her lips until the other woman sighed and opened her mouth for more. Sinclair's body began a slow melt, heating until every bit of moisture in her body was pooled between her thighs. Her fingers slid into Regina's hair to pull the woman closer. When Regina drew back, Sinclair's dolma was in her mouth. She finished chewing what Sinclair had started and swallowed.

  "Does that satisfy any of your curiosity?"

  When the check came, Regina took it before Sinclair could. As the waitress leaned over to pick up the bill and its generous tip, Regina smiled over the flickering candles, her eyes lazy with seduction.

  "Come home with me."

  Those simple words ignited a fire between Sinclair's legs. She couldn't say no. In the elevator to the penthouse apartment, Regina watched her from the other side of the copperand-bronze fitted cage, smiling.

  "I'm not going to touch you now. If I do I won't be able to stop. Don't want to frighten my neighbors."

  Sinclair tried for levity. "They spook easily, like horses?"

  "Something like that."

  The elevator bell sounded. Regina ushered her through a well-lit hallway into an apartment that was all darkness and warmth. The scent of pine filled Sinclair's nose. The apart ment was ornate but impersonally furnished. Anyone could have lived there. Sinclair trembled with an unknown fear. They moved through the darkness to the bedroom.

  "Relax."

  In a rustle of sound, Regina was on her. She kissed Sinclair, softly, as if trying not to frighten her. It was just like kissing a man, Sinclair decided, except for the press of two soft breasts against her.

  "Touch them if you want," Regina murmured, nibbling on her lips then the slope of her neck.

  Sinclair took a deep shuddering breath. With no table between them, no restaurant, no ambiguous flirtation, it was on. Regina took Sinclair's hand and pressed it against her breast.

  "I'm going to fuck you." She bit Sinclair's lip. "If there's anything that you don't want, just tell me. Otherwise I'm going to take this." Regina cupped her through her trousers.

  There was only one word left for Sinclair to say. "Yes."

  Regina pushed her into the mint-smelling sheets and pressed her fingers into Sinclair, devoured her mouth, her breasts and pussy until she was incoherent with want.

  "This isn't a man touching you, is it?"

  "No." Sinclair gasped when the other woman's fingers slid deep inside her, quickly finding the spot that made her breathless, made her sweat and beg. She didn't even know that it existed. "God!"

  "Just call me Regina." Still in her silk suit, she turned Sinclair over and slid up behind her, biting and caressing, inviting her to stain the silk with her sweat and cum.

  "Come. It's all right. That doesn't mean the night's over."

  Sinclair did, panting like a freight train as she collapsed beneath the other woman. Her own loudness made her blink at the ceiling in surprise. She half expected to see a mirror up there.

  Regina shrugged off her skirt and blouse. She was com pletely naked underneath, ready with her small hard breasts and curvaceous hips. Sinclair reached for her, cupping her hips with wonder. They were soft and laced with fine lines that were almost invisible until the flesh was close enough to kiss. Sinclair's fingernails traced the rounded ass, the thick thighs.

  "Time for that later, baby." Regina touched Sinclair's mouth with damp fingers. "Open your legs for me." She slid down Sinclair's body and tasted her, licked her, slid her tongue in and over her until Sinclair's throat was raw from gasping.

  With the last of Sinclair's noises echoing in their ears, Regina lifted up her head, then her whole body. "That was your first lesson. I'm about to give you a pop quiz." Regina straddled Sinclair's face, opening up her shaved cunt to her inspection. "Do your best. I'll guide you through it."

  Sinclair wanted to stare. The writer was pale and pink, and glistening, her clit hard and distended. Above her, Regina caressed her own nipples, squeezing and pinching until they were the color of raspberries.

  "It's just like eating a peach, only you don't use your teeth." She undulated her hips above Sinclair, signaling her readiness.

  It wasn't like eating a peach at all, Sinclair decided. It was better. The soft, wet flesh slid under her tongue like a salted oyster. She smelled gingery here, too, her musk addictive and, right now, very necessary.

  "A little lower, sweetheart. Slip your tongue-hmm. Exactly. . . " Regina's voice trailed off on a deep moan.

  Sinclair was a fast learner. She remembered how she liked to touch herself. With her tongue lavishing Regina's clit with focused attention, she slid two fingers deep inside her new lover and was rewarded with a sharp gasp and the trembling of the soft thighs bracketing her face. Regina pressed harder against her mouth. Her thighs quaked and started to give out. Sinclair sped up the hummingbird-like flutter to her tongue and thrust her fingers deeper. Regina gasped again, bucked on Sinclair's face as she growled long and deep and came hard around the long fingers.

  Regina laughed softly. "I knew you'd be a keeper."

  Rain started to fall, and Regina opened the windows to let the sound in. It was not a romantic gesture, she assured Sinclair as she stood bathed in the soft light from the bedroom lamps. She just liked the quiet noise, and so far above the streets she didn't have to smell the filth of the city. When Regina sank back into the bed, Sinclair propped herself on her elbow. "Doesn't this seem at all odd to you?" she asked.

  "What? Sex with a near-stranger?"

  "Yes, for one thing. I don't know anything about you. For all I know you could be a mass murderer or something."

  Regina showed off her gorgeous teeth. "What do you want to know? I like dogs, I'm not into adventure sports or bingo. I'm HIV-negative and otherwise disease-free, unless you count manic depression as a disease."

  "Interesting." And so very uninformative. Perhaps that was the point. Could she be satisfied with this? After Yuen's compulsive soul baring, Regina's reticence was a kind of relief. It made her more compelling and much, much sexier than the boy Sinclair had left at home.

  "Does that mean you're satisfied?"

  Sinclair traced Regina's collarbone. Desire hummed through her veins again, steady and loud. "I wouldn't say that."

  Red-blushed nipples puckered and rose under Sinclair's gaze. With a soft laugh, Regina slid her fingers around the back of the other woman's neck and pulled her head down.

  "Good."

  At work the next day, Sinclair was useless. She pressed her legs together and stared at the computer screen until all she could see was Regina's face, wet with cum and sweat, her lip tight between her teeth. Sinclair left as early as she could and called Regina on her way to the train.

  "Come to my house tonight. I want to show you something."

  The writer's throaty chuckle stirred up the moisture already on Sinclair's panties. "I can't tonight. How about Sunday?"

  What else could she do but agree? Sinclair called Yuen when she got home.

  "I can't see you anymore," she said.

  "What? Where did this come from?"

  "Nowhere. I-"

  "I'm coming over." He hung up the phone.

  The doorbell rang twenty minutes later.

  "Is it someone else?" he asked as soon as she opened the door.

  Lying wasn't Sinclair's forte. "Something like that."

  "What does that mean? Is there or isn't there?"

  "I-I met a woman."

  Silence.

  He walked farther into the apartment. "You did what?"

  "Three days ago." Had it only been three days?

  "This is crazy." He turned to her, his face softening from its initial anger. "Is it that woman I met at Lin's party?"

  Sinclair flushed hot and looked away. Had she been that obvious?

  "It is, isn't it? I knew that bitch wasn't joking around." He looked
at her across the pale expanse of the living room. "Three days. You're throwing away two years because of three days?"

  Her tongue felt too heavy to speak. Yes, it was sudden. But she felt more in these past three days than she ever had with Yuen. Sinclair didn't want to say any of that out loud. It was too cruel.

  "Sinclair. You have to know how insane this sounds. A week ago everything was fine. We were making plans for a weekend upstate."

  "You were making plans for a weekend upstate. I wanted to stay home."

  "But you always want to stay home. That's why I always make plans for us."

  "Maybe that's the problem."

  "You know what, Sinclair? This is bullshit. You'll come to your senses in a little while." He slid her a look. "Have you slept with her yet?"

  "That's none of your business, Yuen."

  He looked intrigued by the possibility of it, then shrugged. "Call me in a few days. Take time to sort this out. I'll be here for you." He moved to kiss her, but seemed to think better of it. "Call me." Then he left.

  Sinclair collapsed against the closed door with a tremulous sigh. She felt limp and exhausted. Still, her mouth curved in a bittersweet smile. In two days, she would see Regina.

  Regina called Sinclair on Sunday morning. "Where do you live?"

  She came over with strawberries, whipped cream, sliced peaches, mangoes, and lychees. Her body looked delectable in a black jumpsuit that showed off her lean length and high, round ass. "I hope you haven't eaten yet."

  "I have, but my Gram said that there's always room for dessert."

  "Don't bring your grandmother into this. She probably wouldn't approve of what I have in mind for you."

  Regina glanced briefly around the apartment, at its high ceilings, tasteful furniture, and spectacular view, before focusing fully on Sinclair. "Let's get you in the shower."

  She was soft all over, despite her leanness, and eager as a puppy to play with Sinclair, to slide the soft fruit inside her and suck it out in loud, juicy slurps. Regina approved of Sinclair's bed. Its size and softness were apparently perfect for what she had in mind, although it had never been this sticky before. When all the gasping was done, she lay beside Sinclair, staring at her while trailing still-wet fingers over Sinclair's skin in long, lazy sweeps. Sinclair could almost see the tape recorder in her mind, making note of this scene. Fodder for her next book.