by Fiona Zedde
She got to the studio late, of course, cursing herself for forgetting that Tara didn’t have a key and Linette didn’t get in until ten. And although Tara didn’t complain too loudly, the people waiting to take her class did, throwing Mayson annoyed looks and making comments about “respecting other people’s time.”
Only Fatimah, the woman she’d had a very satisfying one-night stand with weeks before, flashed Mayson a teasing smile.
“Lucky girl,” she murmured for Mayson’s ears only.
Embarrassed heat climbed into her cheeks as she twisted the key in the lock and pushed the building’s red doors open. The dozen or so people swarmed in behind her and headed directly for Tara’s intermediate Tantric yoga session. The lanky redhead gave her an amused look but said nothing. Only when Mayson got into her office, shifting the piles of paperwork on her desk to begin the day of business, did she catch a look at herself in the mirrored Quan Yin altar by the door.
She looked well and thoroughly fucked. The color sat high in her face. Her mouth looked naked and red. Eyes slumberous and bed-bound, as if she couldn’t lift them high enough to look beyond the lover who had been in her sights not too long ago. No wonder the students heading into the yoga class hadn’t wanted to hear her excuses. She might as well have had pussy juice smeared across her face.
“Jesus.” Mayson dropped her face in her hands.
Two hours later, she was back in her office, unwinding from her first class and catching up on the monthly paperwork.
“Mayson.”
Linette, the studio’s manager, stood in the doorway. “These just came for you,” she said, holding out an armload of red roses bursting from a tall rectangular vase.
Without waiting for Mayson to respond, she came into the office and arranged the delivery on the desk. She plucked out the card and dropped it in front of Mayson.
“Is this what bad girls get when they stay out late on a work night?”
Mayson shot her an irritated look. “Only if they’re very good the next morning.”
Linette laughed and let herself out the door.
The flowers were overpoweringly sweet. Mayson picked up the note, already knowing whom the roses came from, and tucked it in her pocket. She sighed. Kendra may have said she understood that their new relationship was a casual one, but she wasn’t acting like it.
Mayson threw open the windows to let some fresh air in and the too-sweet smell of the roses out.
Chapter 21
“Are you joking?” The dimples deepened in Renee’s cheeks as she laughed. “I would have totally cussed you out if I was Tara. She could have lost some students. Hell, you could have lost students.” Renee looked at her significantly over her teacup.
Mayson shrugged. I know, I know. The words went unsaid but she sighed, admitting guilt. “You would have cussed me out, regardless. Remember when I forgot you were on the phone that night Kendra called?”
“How could I forget, you horny little”—Renee sputtered—“worm?”
“Do worms even get horny?”
“Don’t try to deflect.”
“I’m not trying to deflect. You brought up the horny worms.” Mayson grinned, glancing sideways at her friend. “Did I tell you she sent me flowers that same day?”
“What? You did not tell me that.” Renee’s eyebrow rose. “Were you that good?”
“Of course.” Mayson waggled her eyebrows. “The girls can never get enough of this hard candy.”
Laughter exploded from Renee, abrupt and loud. “You are so damn cheesy!” She laughed again, ignoring the glances she attracted from other patrons of the teahouse.
At half past noon on a Wednesday, Ms. Tuffets was crowded with the lunch-hour business crowd, Renee included, running in for a bite to eat before dashing back to their corporate prisons. Mayson didn’t quite put it in those terms, but her raised eyebrow at Renee’s grim gray suit spoke volumes.
Mayson joined in Renee’s laughter although she wasn’t at all serious about this thing with Kendra. The clarity of Renee’s questions made her see that. The girl—the straight girl—was a nice distraction but wasn’t worth any potential headache when there were plenty of willing lesbians she could occupy herself with instead. Although apart from this aberration, she didn’t really have the energy, or the urge, to seriously pursue any women.
“Hard candy. Okay.” Renee’s eyes twinkled. “I understand about good sex, honey. Just make sure you keep a balance.” Then Renee made a face like something just occurred to her. She shook her head. “And maybe I should be taking my own advice too.”
“What do you mean? Were you able to hook up with that last guy again? You seemed pretty into him.” Mayson took a careful bite of her veggie sandwich.
Her friend pursed her lips. “I’ve been too much of a chicken to contact him again. I feel so bad about what happened afterward.”
“He’s a man. Contact him. If the sex was as good as you say, he’s not going to turn down another date.”
“You think so?”
“Hell, yeah,” Mayson said. “They think with their dicks. If his dick likes you, then whatever bad feelings he might have left over from the other night won’t matter.”
Renee forked the spinach from one side of her plate to the other. “I hope you’re right. Before I screwed things up, that night with him was the best I’ve ever had.”
Which was quite a statement since she’d been married to Linc for over four years and the great sex had been the reason Renee gave for staying with him for so long.
“It was perfect with him, you know.” Renee’s gaze bounced back to Mayson’s face. “In the dark, I felt desirable again and free from someone else’s demands.”
Mayson nodded. They were both thinking about Renee’s ex. Mayson knew that the marriage to Linc had been far from perfect. As handsome as the guy was, he was also needy and controlling, using his supposed love to back Renee into an emotional corner. And he’d never liked their friendship.
At the beginning of their involvement, before asking Renee to marry him, he’d tried to isolate her from Mayson, claiming Mayson would try to seduce Renee away from him. That amateur move hadn’t worked, of course, but from that point on Mayson had written off the relationship as a failure and impatiently waited for Renee to come to her senses enough to see it as a failure too. It took four years, but that moment finally came.
“Linc is in the past, honey. Just make sure you keep him there.”
“That’s one thing you don’t have to worry about with me,” Renee said.
Mayson heard the false note in her voice, but she didn’t force the issue. Instead she reached for her glass of pineapple juice and took a sip.
Renee could tell herself—and Mayson—whatever she wanted to about Linc. That she was over him. That the decisions she made now had nothing to do with how broken he had left her. Mayson knew better, and she would be there to catch Renee when the realization sent her tumbling.
Chapter 22
Apologies for the first time. Meet me again for a better second time?
Renee finished the e-mail and hit “send.”
Sitting at her kitchen table, she frowned at her laptop. If she were in the stranger’s place, she’d ignore that message. Aside from the fact that their bodies had connected, there was nothing in it for him. Still, she hit the “refresh” button to her Internet browser to hurry any new messages into her inbox. Just in case.
On the television, yet another commercial for a trade school went off, making way for the late-morning judge with her slash of bright lipstick and an eyebrow raised in amazement at her scandalous plaintiff trying to sue his two wives for alimony. These shows were her guilty pleasure, Jerry Springer–light, whenever she took the day off from what Mayson called “sucking corporate dick.”
She shoved the new abundance of hair out of her face and back over her shoulder. A window popped up at the bottom of her screen. New e-mail. A hand flew to her mouth.
Yes. Same place? I promis
e not to bite this time.
A breath of relieved laughter leaked past her fingers.
Anticipation raced through her, quick and heady. She could barely coordinate her fingers enough to type a reply.
Same place. Seven tonight?
His response came back immediately.
Yes.
Tonight. Seven o’clock. The phantom scent of his skin came to her then, of mint and the outdoors and sweat. She jumped up from the kitchen table. No use moping around the house. There was a beautiful day out there to enjoy.
The blindfold was on the bed when she came into the room. Black velvet against the pale floral sheets. The bedside lamp radiated a faint glow. Was this to be their usual, then? The fabric of the blindfold licked the sensitive skin of her hands, sending a shudder through her body. She put it on.
The velvet, fragrant with a faint but familiar scent, settled against her cheeks. Its smell was—she jumped when hands clasped her waist from behind.
“Yes?” He breathed the simple question against her ear.
Renee let her body speak for her, sinking back into him with a sigh. He took the sigh into him, holding her more tightly for a moment before tugging her across the carpet, pushing her down onto the bed. She lay there for a moment, under his intent regard, feeling something from him, although she wasn’t sure what it was. There was one certainty: He wanted her. That was enough.
She lay still while he stripped her body naked. His hands stroked her breasts. The heavy heat of him sank between her thighs. Renee sighed. Sensation slithered under her skin.
In the bed, they came together, not like before but still good. His big body overwhelmed her with its taste and its sweat and its immediate and hard length inside her body. The drive to pleasure was slow and easy. It took Renee away from herself, kept her in the dark with the faint nutmeg scent of the blindfold, the scrape of her smooth legs against his furred ones, her body open and wet and moving like a dream against the sheets.
He grunted.
She gasped.
The bed shook.
Afterward, he pressed a kiss into her throat that blossomed into a line of kisses down her body. His damp lips brushed the bottom of her foot, then nothing. A rustle of cloth. Him getting dressed. Startled, she sat up in the bed, reaching for the blindfold.
A hand stroked her foot and her hands fell away. This isn’t the last time. She felt the words as surely as if he’d spoken them.
Renee stretched out on the bed, pulling the pillow tight against her face and inhaling the smell of mint, of nutmeg, of their sex. When the door opened, she didn’t turn around to watch him leave.
Chapter 23
“Sometimes I forget how pretty this place is.” Mayson guided the open convertible through the winding streets of her old neighborhood, away from the harbor and the boats littering the crystal-blue ocean behind her. From the passenger seat, Renee nodded in agreement.
“It’s a quiet beauty that you just can’t find in San Diego,” Renee said. “Everything here is like a memory of something good.”
They cruised past a tri-level glass house, its yard strewn with the startling red of ginger plants. The house next door was nearly hidden by the tall fan of a jacaranda tree with its explosion of purple blossoms. A scattering of pale petals lay on the deep green grass.
“How could Mama and Daddy leave this behind?”
Mayson paused at a crosswalk to allow three bare-chested boys with Boogie Boards to pass in front of the car.
As usual, she had been thinking about her parents on and off during the drive up to Dana Point. Like Renee said once, it seemed strange to come up here, to come home, and not see her parents. And she couldn’t stop the spasm of jealousy at the ready accessibility of Renee’s parents. The Matthewses, retired and reliable, were always there for their daughter and whatever drama that brought her rushing back home to them.
Mayson’s life had been relatively drama-free, but that wasn’t the point.
“They just wanted a slower life, you know that,” Renee said.
“What the hell is slower than Dana Point?” Mayson muttered.
“Stop it. They always wanted to go back to Jamaica, you know that.” Renee’s voice turned teasing. “May, you’re all grown up now. If you want to see them, buy a plane ticket. They’ll be happy to see you. Unless you show up whining like a baby who needs her titty.”
“Shut up.”
Renee chortled. Then she turned to Mayson with her serious face. “I know you miss them. Just remember that before they left, you were the one urging your mother to live her dream. Life is too short. Isn’t that what you’re always telling us?”
“Shit. One day I’ll learn to keep my mouth shut.” Mayson pouted.
“Poor baby.” Renee giggled.
They pulled up into the Matthewses’ empty driveway. By the time Mayson put the car in Park, the front door opened.
“Renee. Mayson. You’re just in time to watch us leave.” Renee’s father chuckled heartily like he’d just told the biggest joke.
“Oh, Daddy!” Laughing, Renee jumped from the car and threw her arms around her father’s neck.
“We came up a little early in case you needed any help making dinner.” Mayson climbed out of the car and hugged Renee’s parents, then kissed Mrs. Matthews on her powdered cheek.
“You didn’t have to do that.” Renee’s mother threw a thin scarf around her shoulders. “We were actually heading to the market for some dessert.”
“What are you going to get?” Renee slipped between her parents, slinging an arm around each of their waists. “Ice cream?”
Her mother laughed. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”
“You could get bread pudding,” Mayson suggested hopefully.
“Or both.” This from Renee’s father. His wife shot him an aggrieved look.
“You two should come with us,” she said. “Pull your car into the garage.”
Renee and Mayson looked at each other and shrugged. No one had to ask them twice to go shopping for something sweet.
Chapter 24
The trip took longer than they had planned, diverging at the seafood market and then Trader Joe’s, where Mayson and Renee sampled everything there was to be sampled, frustrating Mr. and Mrs. Matthews just like when they were kids. But they eventually left the store with bread pudding, ice cream, and nearly full bellies.
“We can skip dinner after all that,” Mayson said, swallowing the last of a mini quiche as they walked through the parking lot to the car.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Renee’s father muttered.
Although he was as skinny as a fence post, her father had never met a meal he didn’t like. Renee often wondered if he had worms.
“Let’s get home, then,” she said. “We don’t want to eat dinner too late.”
The sun was already stale in the sky, casting long shadows that were a prelude to evening.
At the house, they divided up tasks by habit of their long years together. Renee and Mayson set the table and retrieved the bottle of chilled white wine from the fridge. Renee’s father pulled the pot of brown rice from the oven, spooned some into a serving bowl, and took the bowl to the table. Her mother emerged from the kitchen with two platters with clear glass covers fogged up from the steam they trapped inside. One platter held tofu, the other thinly sliced curls of beef, both still simmering among segments of red, green, and yellow peppers in a sweet-smelling sauce.
“The food smells great, Daddy.”
“I helped too, you know,” her mother said with laughter in her voice as she slid the platters onto the table.
While her father had cooked most of the meals Renee remembered eating at home, it was her mother who made their drinks—everything from lemonade to any of the more complex concoctions she’d only had to taste once in a bar or restaurant to duplicate.
“This is a lot of food,” Mayson said.
She lifted the glass cover to peek at the tofu. A plume of scented steam lazily w
ound its way toward the ceiling.
“It is, isn’t it?” Her mother looked down at the food, then over at her husband. “We should invite Grant over. He loves your peppered steak.”
Renee winced. “I’m sure he has other stuff to do,” she said quickly. The last thing she wanted to do tonight was put up with more of her parents’ matchmaking. When were they going to get it through their heads that Grant—no matter how “settled” and “sweet” he was—would not be the next one to put a ring on her finger?
“But you don’t know that, darling,” her mother said.
Just then a cell phone rang. Mayson’s. She glanced at it before pressing the “ignore” button. Renee looked away from her parents, worried by the shuttered look on her best friend’s face. She raised an eyebrow in question.
Kendra. Mayson mouthed the woman’s name and Renee felt her face freeze in disapproval. Although they’d slept together only once, the woman kept on calling Mayson, acting as if their sexual relationship were more than that. Renee squeezed Mayson’s shoulder as she passed to lay out the last of the silverware. Leave that mess until we get back down to San Diego.
Mayson nodded.
Renee turned her attention back to her parents but her father had walked away. He left the dining room and came back with a small manila envelope. “Go ask Grant if he wants to join us, and give him this.” He dropped the envelope in Renee’s hand.
“Daddy!”
“Quit whining.” Mayson snickered.
Renee flipped her the bird and flounced out of the kitchen.
As she walked across the quiet street partially shrouded in evening, it occurred to Renee that Grant had always been here. Ever since she could remember, his family had lived across the street, three houses down, in the light gray Spanish-style house with the tall border of deep purple myrtle trees always in bloom. The house hadn’t changed but the family had.
