“Okay, okay, I’m up; you now have my undivided attention. Go ahead and talk but don’t expect much in the way of intelligent discourse ‘cause I’m brain-dead – you’ll be arguing with yourself! And don’t get angry with me if I fall asleep while you’re talking ‘cause I’m dog-tired and...”
Toni stopped speaking because Kat’s muff had found its way up and into her mouth. Toni moaned involuntarily, immediately abandoning her claims of exhaustion as she started kissing and licking Kat’s delectable snatch, so sweetly wet and swollen that it was. The fingers of her left hand found their way deep inside of Kat while her right hand, placed firmly on Kat’s nearly hairless mound made a squeezing motion just above Kat’s clit, pulling up tightly and then moving lower and more deeply beneath her pubic bone, rubbing slowly back and forth, the Trifecta, as Kat had nicknamed that particular maneuver, while maintaining constant lingual contact with Kat’s engorged clitoris. Kat groaned deeply in unconstrained pleasure as she relocated her hands to grab onto the artistically-rendered railing configuration above the headboard onto which one hand would remain as she knew that otherwise, the strength of her impending orgasm held promise to propel her off of the bed.
Toni continued to use her hands to gyrate Kat’s body, dipping deeply and furiously, yet gently, intensely, deliciously. Kat felt her entire body heat up from deep within, this orgasm beginning to take on the coloration of diamonds, multifaceted and sparkling. She placed her right hand behind Toni’s head, mainly for support while the other continued to hold on to the railing for dear life.
She came long, hard and deeply, finding it somewhat amusing when she heard herself gasping out multiple thank-you’s for the entire duration of her orgasm. Several continuous rounds of powerful contractions later, Kat finally slumped to the bed in an exhausted heap, yet more than ready to respond in kind but was stopped again by Toni’s deferral for another night.
“We can’t let abstinence become the de facto or else we’ll certainly meet with bed death and you know I simply can’t let that happen. I refuse to be in a sexless relationship.” Kat hoarsely whispered because her strength hadn’t yet fully returned.
“Please - don’t worry. I’ll always want you. Always have, always will. I’m just going through something at work right now that’s stealing my drive. I promise we’ll talk about it or I’ll just work on resolving it myself or whatever, but right now, I just need to get some sleep. No bed death, okay? I promise.”
Toni returned from washing up to find Kat turned on her side, unsuccessfully stifling a soft sob. Toni held her closely that night, neither one saying a word. The following morning Kat awoke to the sensation of Toni inching her way underneath her, gingerly positioning Kat’s hip bone between her legs, gripping tightly then gyrating evenly, rhythmically, while placing passionate kisses on Kat’s neck, ear and luscious lips, lifting herself up so that Kat could fully embrace her.
They came together, laughing, moaning, gasping out their mutual admissions of love while holding each other in a near-desperate embrace, neither one willing to even consider a life without the other, knowing they would do whatever was necessary to keep their passion from withering away in a fashion similar to the horror stories that their lesbian friends seemed insistent on recounting, laughing knowingly, accusatorily, that Toni and Kat’s transformation into the land of platonic friendship, a supposedly forgone fate for all lesbians, was indeed imminent, most not believing it hadn’t already transpired.
******
Chapter 4
The Intervention
The decision had been made to convene the intervention in neutral territory, but Monica made an eleventh-hour change request and asked Toni if she could instead go to her and Kat’s place as she feared there would be tears and although she knew she would be at a decided disadvantage, being in a public space or worse yet her own abode, would have been far worse. Toni readily agreed, no questions asked, as Monica knew she would; she couldn’t have hung up any faster. Monica knew Toni quite well and even if she didn’t, would have been able to see/feel/hear her discomfort from across a continent.
Monica keenly felt the tenuousness of her grip on life in general and with sanity specifically, and knew that her frayed composure now showed to such an extent as to be the beacon upon which Toni and Kat would be subjecting their unfounded hopefulness. She pitied them for a moment but then her blackened heart was silenced by an irreversible atrophy; they had been the ones to reach out to her so there would be no quarter for their misplaced optimism. Her brief flirtation with rationalization was that they would be able to find comfort in each others arms and perhaps this would bring them even closer together. Any hesitation she may have been feeling about their involvement melted effortlessly away.
She firmly believed that she had given life her best effort, that despite her desperate, repeated attempts at remaining centered, she invariably found herself incapable of preventing a morbid spiral from making its descent into places so dark that she actually could no longer bear the weigh of her own burden. In due course, she had made a plan to end her miserable existence rather than continue to endure living within the grip of a devastatingly oppressive depression that relentlessly sought to tear her apart, slowly, painfully, without compassion.
Toni held a far more simplistic view of the darkness that can encompass ones emotional state and because of that, Monica always found her to be comforting, providing a sliver of hope that a stable life was possible. But, she realized not too far into their relationship that Toni lacked the depth of negative emotion sufficient to understand the intensity of the angst that drove her every thought, feeling, creative inclination and relentless desire to put an end to the nauseating circularity of her inability to logically reason through her issues. Her process of thought harbored a duplicity of convoluted layers fraught with self-disgust, contempt and loathing for everyone and everything in which she came into contact, placing herself at the top of the list.
From every associate, old and new alike, Monica heard subterfuge taking shape with every word spoken by those who sought out her art, falsely believing themselves to share the depth of passion and isolation that was the crux of her creative inspiration. She found each of her benefactors to be singularly foolish, greedy and delusional to such an extent that concealing her contempt for them became an impossible feat.
Rather than recoil from her in justifiable revulsion, despite how horribly she dressed, her refusal to shower with any semblance of regularity, how despondent and fatalistic her artwork had become, her choice of lovers brought to openings and sundry social gatherings who looked like and had more of a ‘dock worker’ aesthetic than someone worthy of spending time with members of the literati, and irrespective of how insulting she became to her ardent and growing fan base, how they continued to flock to her side, wanting desperately to ingratiate themselves to her, begging to take pictures with her at each of her openings, stopping her in the streets, in bars, galleries, restaurants, drooling with delight, almost demanding to be granted an audience but not, as she had assumed when she still possessed a modicum of innocence, to discuss her work while seeking her wisdom and unique perspective, but rather to spew at her their own absurdist drivel in hopes that she would validate their belief that they too were brilliant, tortured souls living in an idiotic world filled with unbearably unenlightened fools.
Being dependent on the hoards she had come to loathe for her monetary well-being began to sicken and disgust her. Artificially elevating her pricing structure did nothing to deter them from wanting more; inflammatory titles did not dissuade them from salivating at the prospect of procuring one of her latest works. The collective weight of their blatant narcissism became too much for her to bear, a rift from which no repair could be effected - the point at which she felt there was no other option but to construct a plan to simply end her life – quickly, cleanly and without drama.
Toni and Kat wrongly believed that they were going to conduct an intervention after which Monica wou
ld walk away feeling unburdened and then go about her business a resurrected soul – a woman with a more positive, healthier perspective on her life. She looked forward to watching their collective shock once she advised them of her actual intentions for having accepted the invitation.
Monica made a silent wager with herself as to which one, if either, would have a revelation before she spelled out the details. She knew Kat to be sharp and shrewd and Toni had read several psychology texts and even went so far as to pursue a second degree, this time in psychology, to supplement her original degree in basket-weaving. Still, she placed even money on them both; Toni’s love for her and avoidance of anything too deeply ugly and Kat’s reluctance to commit to anything that might upset Toni left Monica feeling more lighthearted than she had been in quite some time. Her mood darkened once again after realizing that her current interest in self destruction was the only thing able to bring her any amount of pleasure.
She selected her clothes for the evening with care and calculated precision to avoid alarming them the moment she walked through the door, what with the burn marks and scarred evidence of slicing clearly visible on her forearms, wrists and legs, the conversation would have taken too negative a turn far too quickly. Monica intended to take a measured approach to dropping the bomb on her unsuspecting interventionists – so few pleasures were left for her to enjoy; she wasn’t about to squander this perfectly precious opportunity. She was happy once, briefly, when she first fell in love with Toni, but it wasn’t nearly enough love to keep her from hating herself.
She’s He-ere...
Despite having buzzed her in to the building’s vestibule, Toni practically jumped through her skin when she heard the light rapping at their door, the rhythm so typically Monica. Although she had spoken with Monica several times over the phone to coordinate the meeting, she hadn’t had any face-time with her in almost two years and was apprehensive about recommencing any form of association with her; she was taking a huge risk by even letting Monica into the apartment.
And then there she was, stepping over the threshold, looking slight, just north of gaunt and marginally kempt but with none of the vacuity to which Kat had bore witness. Kat lost the coin toss so had been the one to open the door and usher Monica into the entry foyer. Toni stood off to Kat’s left silent and still but then, feeling a surge of compassion, rushed over and gave Monica a generous hug. Monica looked, smelled and felt as Toni had remembered, albeit bonier. Her vulnerability came through in spades as this time, nothing was standing between her and her deepest fears. Her scent, distinctive, rich, delicious, emanating from every pore, was absorbed directly into Toni’s heart. Toni kicked herself with the inappropriateness of having let loose a short gasp of air as precipitated by the physical pang of desire that coursed through her, a reaction that caught her entirely by surprise.
“It’s nice to know I haven’t lost it.” Monica smiled and then kissed Toni’s cheek with the most genuine warmth that she’d given anyone since before their last break-up.
Feeling slightly embarrassed, knowing that Kat had caught Monica’s allusion and probably also heard her audible gasp, Toni beat a quick retreat into the kitchen, mumbling something about starting the coffee and tea. Kat seized the opportunity to confront Monica outside of Toni’s aural field.
“Did you have a remarkable recovery over the past two weeks because you seem immeasurably more stable and not at all like a woman in search of a steeply craggy cliff.” Kat paused to compose herself and tamp down her rising anger then added,
“I hope you aren’t thinking about trying to win back Toni’s heart because you can’t have it. Selfish of me, yes, but that’s the way it is. She’s mine now.”
Kat stopped speaking when Toni asked whether Monica would like something to snack on. Having responded in the negative, Toni once again retreated to the relative sanctuary of the kitchen. She hadn’t quite grasped the concept or protocols of an intervention so acted as she would have with any guest. Monica laughed and assured Kat there was nothing to worry about in that regard – love was the furthest thing from her mind.
“I don’t mean to be so presumptuous but your demeanor is near-normal so of course I thought you were interested in re-stabilizing yourself by seeking out Toni. Unless of course this is the calm before...” Seeing Monica’s smile form made Kat trail off having, at that moment, realized Monica’s intentions. The exact details weren’t known but Monica then knew that Kat knew she was about to sing her swan song and somehow, in some manner, was going to ask for their complicity.
“Don’t you have any moral compass, Monica? What makes you think Toni will be able to withstand the torture of your ...,” Kat’s last query was left to trail off into open air.
She was forced to stop short when Toni returned with coffee, tea and biscotti on a tray. There were so very few situations that stole away Toni’s appetite or her need to exhibit proper decorum with guests and this situation hadn’t yet transformed into one of them. Kat kept a suspicious eye on Monica, taking the reins and guiding everyone to their seats, making certain that a strategic advantage would not be won by Monica.
Kat was becoming increasingly infuriated and although she didn’t know the specifics of why, trusted that her instincts would not lead her astray. She pulled Toni down to sit next to her on their black leather contemporary loveseat, with Kat immediately sliding a protective arm around her waist. The silence in the room grew thick with anticipation, everyone lost in their assumptions, concerns, fears, reticence. Toni shot up to close a window, hoping it would stop the chills from endlessly wending their way throughout the length of her spine.
“So Katherine, I assume you’ve been presented to the Mangiarmi clan?”
“Oh yes, I ran the gauntlet. They are lovely people and now that I’ve met them, I understand my little muffin better than ever.” Making an attempt to drive home her point, she added, “Toni has been, well, for lack of a better word, ‘blessed’ with being raised in a family whose love for one another is absolute and unconditional, which is how she’s been able to demonstrate to us what love should be but which has also placed her at a decided disadvantage with knowing how to handle emotionally damaged people in a safe, appropriate manner.” Kat made consistent eye contact with Monica during her entire discourse.
Having no intention of being dissuaded from her pursuit, Monica continued as if she hadn’t just been read the riot act.
“And how did Giovanni respond when he saw you? He must have been beside himself with lust, little horn-dog that he is,” Monica said with as light a spirit as she could muster.
“I think he still has the imprint on his cheek from when you slapped him Mon, but he’s such a dumb ass that I think he really liked it. He’s just too handsome and horny for his own good but because he’s also a real sweetheart, he had never been rejected like that before.
“He still asks about you, Mon; about how you’re doing.” Toni was doing her best to suppress a full throttle crying jag.
“I remember being shocked when I first saw him; it really is amazing how much the two of you look alike but the initial ease that I felt around him was unfounded. When he placed his hand on my ass and squeezed, I nearly lost it. And then to add insult, he began explaining to me, while non-stop checking me out, how I would be better off with him rather than you because, as he so crudely put it, he had the real thing.
“Yes Toni, he’s handsome, but he would benefit from being taught some manners. Has he improved, Katherine?” Monica intoned.
“Oh no, not really; but, he never laid an inappropriate hand on me, other than to greet me with the standard two-cheeked kiss and once again to bear hug me after I announced to the family Toni and my intentions to wed.” Kat could not help herself; she barreled through the opened door like a bronco on a rampage. She would apologize later to Toni for pissing on her in so blatant a demonstration of ownership, but her gut advised her that it was prudent to do so, so piss away she did.
The room fell silen
t for an uncomfortable length of time, everyone looking down and away but not at one another. Monica’s emotional buttons had been unpushable for so long that she was shocked by the pang of regret coursing through her aching heart. The thought that it could have been her rather than Kat who would be spending her lifetime safely tucked within the nook of Toni’s unconditional love, spent a fleeting moment passing through her consciousness then was coaxed to dry up just as quickly lest she begin to feel lamentations that had no place within her current mindset.
“You’ve lost more weight, Toni. It suits you,” Monica said, desperate to regroup.
“Thanks. Wish I could say the same about you, Mon,” Toni replied with tears beginning to form.
Kat’s arm, having been strategically placed for just such a moment, although she didn’t know that the water-works would begin within the first ten minutes, pulled Toni closer to her, lightly kissing her cheek. Another moment of uncomfortable silence descended on the room, everyone taking a moment to collect their thoughts and sip their drinks.
“Very nice place you have. You’ve moved in already?” Monica asked of Toni, immediately regretting her inability to conceal the accusatory tone of her query.
Until that moment, she hadn’t fully realized how deeply hurt she’d been by Toni’s stubborn refusals to cohabitate with her; she was never given a reason other than family, but even that excuse felt vague and flimsy. Toni never realized how adversely her rejection had affected their relationship. Monica squeezed her eyes tightly shut as she sipped her drink, a gently blended concoction of green tea and white mulberry, deliciously mellow and steeped to perfection. She allowed herself to feel the pleasure of the liquid caressing her lips, cascading over her tongue, down a throat raw with rage, radiating a rarity of warmth from within that comforted her as she was able to imagine herself somewhere far removed from her corporeal prison.
Love Finds Its Pocket Page 11
