by Fiona Zedde
* * *
After her shower, Mayson searched listlessly through her closet, dismissing outfit after outfit without pulling them off the hangers. Renee watched her from the bed, tucking the pillow more comfortably under her cheek. If they didn’t speed up this process, she was going to fall asleep and send Mayson off to troll for girls on her own. She grinned at the thought.
“You should wear that green shirt I bought you last year. It looks great against your skin, especially with your hair loose.”
Mayson obediently began rooting around in the green section of her frighteningly well-organized closet.
“I can’t find it,” she said after a long search.
“Then never mind. Put on that thin white one. Yes, that one with the black buttons down the front. With black jeans you’re all set. The girls won’t know what hit them.” Renee invited Mayson to share her smile, but her friend was having none of it.
“This better not be a repeat of last time I took you cruising or I’m leaving you to find your own ride home.”
“I’m sure none of the girls would mind…giving me a ride.” Renee smirked.
She turned in time to see a smile transform her friend’s face. A real smile.
Mayson shook her head. “Come on. You promised a good time. You better deliver.”
Less than an hour later, they left Mayson’s townhouse in the convertible with the top down and Alicia Keys on the iPod. Renee drove. She kept the stereo just above conversation level so Mayson wouldn’t feel she had to talk. The mellow voice and piano were the only sounds they needed as they cruised under the moonless sky, the faint stars.
Mayson visibly relaxed, head lolling back against the passenger seat, fingers tapping against her thigh to the music. She looked moody tonight. Hell, she was moody and should have no problem picking up someone to help her forget about Kendra if that was what she wanted. But Renee doubted that was what she wanted.
She turned her gaze back to the road and let her mind float away.
It had been days since she’d seen her lover, and she missed him. As much as she wanted him, she didn’t want to want him. It was too much like a relationship. After their last date, he’d sent an e-mail letting her know he would be out of town for the next six days and wouldn’t be able to meet her. Renee had tried to see someone else. She was sure that the itch he inspired could just as easily be scratched by another man.
Uninspired but determined, she’d looked through her long-ignored inbox and picked a man she thought would do just as well. But when she walked into the hotel room, shrouded in a darkness that should have been perfect, the wrongness of the man’s smell washed over her. She couldn’t touch him. She couldn’t let him touch her.
Before things could go any further, she made stammering excuses, grabbed her things, and left the room. It had felt too much like cheating. At home, she emptied her inbox of every message, every profile except his. And instead of taking a cold shower like she’d planned, she slid into bed with her favorite vibrator and made herself come again and again thinking about his cool mint scent and the concentrated force of him against her back when he took her from behind. Next time, she remembered thinking just before drifting into a dreamless sleep, I’ll have him like that.
Renee pressed her thighs together and brought herself back to the present with a low sigh.
“Thinking about something good?” Mayson asked.
Renee decided to ignore the meaningful tone in her friend’s voice. “I usually am thinking about something good,” she replied, slinging an arm outside the car window.
The breeze felt good on her head and the back of her neck, reinforcing the rightness of her decision to get rid of the weave and wear her hair short again.
“I’m sure whoever he is appreciates those good thoughts… and deeds.” Mayson chuckled.
Renee smiled back at her despite the sudden heat in her cheeks. A few weeks ago she would have chided Mayson that not everything was about sex. But with the thought of her lover and the deep satisfaction he brought her every single time, she realized that sometimes it was just about sex. And that was okay.
“You feeling better about things?” she asked Mayson.
“A little. Although I don’t know why.”
“The healing elixir of my company, of course.”
“Of course.” Mayson snorted behind her grin.
Renee forced her smile away. “Things will be okay again, May. You didn’t do anything wrong. Just remember that. Okay?”
“Okay.” Mayson’s response was quiet but certain.
On Coronado, they found parking on the street across from the little pastry shop, sliding into a parallel spot right after a black Honda Accord pulled out. Xocolatl was overflowing with women. Through the wide glass windows of the little chocolate shop they could see a line of nearly a dozen customers—mostly women—peering into the case of delicacies as they waited to be served.
“You want to sit inside or out?” Renee asked.
“Outside,” Mayson promptly answered, a smile already spreading on her face. On the patio, three of the five tables were already taken by casually dressed women—some with boyfriends—sipping mugs of the café’s signature Mayan chocolate blend.
“I’ll grab a table while you get our order.”
She pulled out her wallet but Renee turned away. No need to fight over who was paying since she was the one who had invited Mayson out.
The smell of chocolate, rich and dark, bathed Renee’s face as she opened the café’s heavy glass door. This was the real reason Mayson loved this place. Heaven. It put an automatic smile on her face. The woman behind the counter returned her smile with a quick one of her own. Renee took her place at the end of the line.
The glass cases were filled with beautiful concoctions—chocolate cheesecakes, a chocolate-infused strawberry shortcake, fruit tarts with stripes of dark chocolate, tiramisu, platters of fat chocolate-dipped strawberries.
“You have some great little cakes tonight,” she greeted the cashier when it was her turn to order.
The woman, pretty in a boatneck blouse showing off her elegant collarbone, grinned back at Renee.
“I know. Some of my favorites are out. The chili chocolate cream is really good.” She leaned closer, as if sharing a secret. “There’s vanilla cream inside the chili pepper.”
Renee laughed, surprised into realizing the girl was flirting with her. “In that case, I’ll have one of those. Add a chocolate crepe and two cups of house hot chocolate to that too, please.”
“Good choice.”
The woman—well, she was just a girl, actually, not much past twenty—rang up her order and took her money. The girl let her fingers brush Renee’s palm when she passed back the scattering of coins. Inexplicably, Renee blushed, dropped the coins in the tip jar, and added a dollar from her purse.
The girl flashed another smile. “Enjoy.”
“I will. Thanks.” Renee moved farther down the counter to wait for her order.
Outside the café, Mayson had taken a table with a view of both the street and the entrance to the café. It was a beautiful night. Pedestrians walked down the strip in a constant trickle, enjoying the late spring weather.
A couple walked past, arm in arm, pausing for a moment to peer inside Xocolatl before continuing on. Renee noticed that Mayson watched them go, her friend’s admiring glance following the taller of the women, who wore slacks and high heels.
As long as she and Mayson had been friends, Renee could never figure out the type of women her friend liked the most. Over the years she’d guessed but was so wrong that it was ridiculous. It was a good thing she’d never tried to set Mayson up with anybody. Not that she’d ever needed to. Whenever Mayson wanted a woman, there was never a shortage.
Outside the café, her friend continued to watch the lesbian couple walk away, oblivious to a tall flash of legs coming from the other direction. This more obvious femininity was far from Mayson’s ideal. The woman with miles of l
egs bared in a short green dress looked at Mayson, though. Renee did a double take. Kendra?
“Here is your order, miss.”
Renee absently took the tray loaded down with their dessert and drinks, still staring out the window. It was Kendra. And the dress that bared all those legs wasn’t a dress at all, it was a shirt, long-sleeved and buttoned down, that she wore with the sleeves rolled to her elbows, one button undone over her considerable cleavage, and a belt strapped tightly to create a high waist just under her breasts.
Mayson still hadn’t seen her.
Renee quickly moved toward the door, walking sideways to avoid bumping into the growing crowd of customers and spilling the hot drinks. “Excuse me,” she said more than once, clutching the tray to her chest.
A woman opened the door for her as she approached and she smiled her thanks, only vaguely aware of the chivalrous woman checking out her rear end as she walked out.
“Just in time.” Mayson pulled out a chair for her, then took the tray from her hands.
“Looks like you found something good in there. Thanks.”
Before Renee could say anything, a new clatter of high heels headed toward them. She clenched her teeth, knowing who it would be before she even turned around. So she didn’t bother doing it, only gave Mayson a significant look before she sat down.
“Yeah, this place is full of surprises tonight, both good and bad.”
Mayson gave her a puzzled look. She still hadn’t noticed Kendra’s steady approach.
“We should have just gone to Strokin’ Aces,” Renee muttered.
“I didn’t know you were into strippers like that, Ren.” Mayson chuckled, lifting her mug of chocolate to her lips.
“I’m not, but right now I’d rather be anywhere but here.”
“What are you talking about?”
Renee twitched her head in the direction of Kendra’s approach. “Trouble.”
Mayson turned in time to watch the woman walk the last couple of feet to their table. “This is just perfect,” she muttered and put down her hot chocolate.
“For a couple that’s not really a couple, you two sure do a lot of intimate things together.” Kendra had landed.
Intimate? Having hot chocolate at a café is intimate? Renee stared at Kendra in amazement.
Their uninvited guest sat down on the empty chair, arranging her long legs and cleavage so no one would miss them. To be fair, she did look nice in the dress—ah, shirt. Something that had been squirming for attention at the back of Renee’s mind suddenly broke free. Kendra was wearing Mayson’s shirt! The same green one they had been searching for in the closet earlier that night. Its black and jade cloisonné buttons were unmistakable against the green cotton.
“We didn’t ask you to sit down.” Renee wanted to rip the shirt off Kendra’s body and beat her with it. This chick wasn’t only psycho, she was a thief too.
“Is that jealousy I hear in your voice, honey? You finally owning up to the fact that you’re fucking your so-called best friend?”
A few startled gazes bounced toward their table, then away. Under any other circumstances, Renee would have squirmed with embarrassment. But right now she was too pissed off.
“Kendra, this isn’t necessary,” Mayson said coldly.
“What do you mean this isn’t necessary?” Kendra leaned into Mayson’s face, hissing. “You dump me for your slut of a best friend and you think I’m just going to slink away like some whipped dog and let you do this to me? Do you know she fucks strange men in hotel rooms all over the city? Do you?” Kendra’s voice rose to a near screech. “You deserve better than her and I deserve better than this.”
Heat exploded in Renee’s face. “Listen to me, you psycho bitch. Mayson isn’t with you now because she doesn’t want you.” Kendra gasped but Renee didn’t stop. “Accept it. Be a woman, not some pathetic excuse for one.” She kicked Kendra’s chair hard, jolting the woman. “Now leave before you make me lose my temper.”
While she spoke, Renee had kept her voice low but steady so Kendra couldn’t mistake her meaning.
Kendra’s mouth snapped shut and her eyes narrowed to slits. Her hand flashed out to grab the nearest mug of hot chocolate from the table but Mayson snatched her wrist in the air.
“Don’t even think about it,” Mayson said.
“You fucking cunt! I should have done more than key your car when I had the chance.”
“What?!”
Kendra shook off Mayson’s hand and stood up, ignoring Mayson’s shocked question. She loomed over them in her high heels before stalking off, her shoes stabbing the sidewalk with each vicious step.
“She was the one who keyed your car? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I just found out a second ago like you did. When it happened I thought it was”—Renee shook her head—“the girl. Remember?” My God, did this just really happen? She took a shaky breath. “I am officially out of fun.” Renee looked around the café, at the people who stared, at the people trying hard not to stare. “Let’s call it a night, okay?”
Without waiting for Mayson to respond, she grabbed her purse and jerkily got to her feet. Her hip bumped the table, sloshing lukewarm chocolate over the edges of both mugs.
“Shit!” Mayson jumped away before the leaking chocolate could drip through the scrollwork metal table and stain her pants. “This is so fucked. I’m sorry, Renee. This shouldn’t have happened.”
“You’re right, it shouldn’t have but nothing can be done about it now. Let’s just go home and try to forget this crappy night.” Although it would be hard to forget Kendra’s hate-filled face and the frightening way she had claimed Mayson.
They endured a mostly silent ride back to Mayson’s townhouse, where Renee gave her best friend a fierce hug before getting into her car and driving the short distance home.
“Oh my God.” As soon as she stepped into her house, she sagged in the doorway.
Kendra had been awful. Spiteful. Unpleasant. Insane. And the things she said … Renee shuddered with revulsion. It made her sick to realize that this was the woman Mayson had shared herself with, had welcomed into her home and into her bed.
She plucked off her shoes and padded to the kitchen to pour a glass of red wine. Glass in hand, she left the kitchen, turning off the lights as she walked through the condo. With a trembling hand, she massaged the back of her neck, stretched the muscles, trying to get rid of the tension there. It didn’t work.
A sense of restlessness kept her moving. She wasn’t quite ready for bed yet, but she didn’t want to go out either. Aimless footsteps took her into the office. The computer was still on, the screen dark but the power button a sleepy green. She sank into the chair at her desk and flicked the mouse.
Did you let someone else touch you when I was gone?
Renee sat up in the chair, heart thumping in her chest. The words flashed on the instant-message box, heavy and black. The sender was unmistakable. Was he back in town? Was he close?
At the very idea of him, the tension and anger of the past few hours began to drain from her as if they never existed.
The time stamp said the message had been received at 7:46. She had been at Mayson’s by then, the two of them batting back and forth the problem of Kendra. Almost three hours ago.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, uncertain what to type. Should she tell him that she’d contacted someone else, that she hadn’t been able to go through with it?
No one else touched me.
Are you lying?
She blinked in surprise when his reply came almost immediately.
No one can touch me like you can. Guilt at her attempt to replace him scorched at her face.
I know that. You didn’t answer my question.
She thought about the various truths she could tell him, then settled on the one that seemed right.
I arranged to meet someone else, but he wasn’t you and I couldn’t go through with it.
How far did it go before you stoppe
d him?
Did you let him put his fingers inside you?
Did you give him a blowjob to compensate him for his time?
He fucked you, but you couldn’t come?
You let him put his dick in your ass, so it doesn’t count?
What? Tell me.
The words came at her like bullets, rapid-fire fast. She squirmed at their rawness, blushed at how easily images flashed behind her half-closed eyelids. All of him and her together. Her on her knees, him with his palm against her womanhood, his fingers seeking inside. The darkness pressing them together but nothing hidden between them.
No. Nothing. I couldn’t even let him touch me.
A long, wordless pause.
How do I know what you’re telling me is true?
But the gentle, almost apologetic way he worded the question told her that he believed her. She could almost see his body relax. The phantom of the other man had already been dismissed from between them.
Do you want to smell me?
Renee shivered as she wrote the words, imagining him sniffing between her legs for evidence of another lover. His nose brushing the soft hairs, his mouth tantalizingly close.
Yes. I want to smell you.
Her fingers were paralyzed by the image abruptly thrust into the center of her brain. His mouth hovering over her aching center, his big hands holding her thighs wide open to his gaze. She was quickly and completely wet. Renee rubbed her thighs together, a hand drifting down to rest on her knee.
And I want to fuck you, he wrote into her silence.
Her hand clenched into her skirt. Her womb clenched, achingly empty, hungry for him to fill her. She couldn’t help it. She really couldn’t. She slipped her hand between her thighs, under her panties. Sighed.
One-handed, she typed, Yes.
Would you let me?
I’d beg you to.
Her words lay on the white screen, naked. I want to see you, he wrote.
