My Lady Lipstick

by Karin Kallmaker

  Diana turned her head to give Paris a wide grin. “I can do with more of them, sure. And pills.”

  Paris leaped out of the bed. “Where are they?”

  “The white leather bag on the dressing table. With a red zipper.”

  There was no white bag on the dressing table in Diana’s bedroom. “I don’t see it.”

  “Maybe I dropped it into my suitcase,” Diana called back.

  “Found it!” She lifted it from on top of a pile of silky black undergarments, any one of which would look marvelous on the floor next to the bed.

  Diana was sitting up against the pillows looking wan, which quelled Paris’s libido for the moment. She handed over the bag and stepped into the bathroom to get a glass of water. By the time she returned, Diana had upended the bag and a jumble of items had fallen across the bed—two bottles of pills, a wrapped set of slender tools Paris took for manicure equipment, and a pouch out of which a small electronic device had tumbled. She couldn’t help but pick up the most interesting item—the chestpiece of a stethoscope.

  “Playing a doctor lately?” Too late she considered the fact that she might not want to know.

  “No that’s for…” Diana’s pale face was abruptly flushed.

  “Seriously?”

  “Old-fashioned tools still work in a digital world.”

  “So sometimes you actually crack open a safe?” The image was laughable. But then this was Diana who excelled at looking like what people wanted her to be and not what she was. Except last night—that hadn’t been an act. Or did Paris desperately want that to be so?

  “Do you want me to answer that question?”

  Paris pushed down a swell of anxiety. This is what life with Diana would be like and she was crazy to be daydreaming about making her breakfast every day. “I still want only the truth.”

  “A desk drawer with an ordinary lock doesn’t take long to open if you know what you’re doing. Half the time a credit card will do it.” Diana picked up the tools Paris had thought were for manicures. “These are much faster.”

  Lockpicks, not cuticle utensils. She set the stethoscope back on the bed. “And this?”

  “It uses any headphones.”

  “For safe cracking?” She flexed her fingers against her robe and took a moment to focus on the glass and steel panels of a building several blocks away. She couldn’t remember a time when making sure curtains were pulled all the way closed hadn’t been part of her nightly routine.

  “It has a number of uses.” Diana opened one of the bottles and shook two pills into her hand.

  Paris handed her the glass and watched as she tossed the pills into her mouth and chased them with a large gulp of water. “I’m sorry about your back.”

  Diana’s face went pink again. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “It really did.”

  Diana speared a piece of cheese. “Thank you for this.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  Diana’s gaze was on Paris’s hands. She gave herself a little shake and said, “So when you do that—stretch out your fingers like that, it’s to help with feeling anxious?”

  Suddenly shy, Paris busied herself with peeling and slicing the banana. “Physical response to physical signals. I visualize excess energy shaking off my fingers like raindrops.”

  “This conversation is making you anxious?”

  “Yes.”

  “And knowing why I open locked doors and that I try hard not to take undue risks doesn’t change that?”

  “Knowledge isn’t that kind of power. Knowing what tends to trigger an episode doesn’t get rid of the trigger. It only helps me mitigate or avoid it.”

  She accepted a slice of banana offered from the tip of Paris’s knife. “Like being allergic to bees. You avoid the bees, but you’re still going to puff up like a marshmallow in a microwave if you get stung.”

  “The early stages aren’t as obvious as anaphylaxis,” Paris said drily. “Like I’m sure people don’t know you’re in pain from your back most of the time unless you tell them.”

  The sheets over Diana’s breasts slipped slightly. “I stand up as tall as possible when it starts up. If I can I’ll sit down.”

  Paris lightly touched the irregular bump on Diana’s shoulder. Her skin was intoxicating to her fingertips—she couldn’t get enough.

  Diana turned her head to watch Paris’s hand. After a deep breath she kissed the back and said, “Breakfast first.”

  Whatever else the morning brought, that was enough of a promise for now. With a parting caress, she was content to move to the foot of the bed where she could look at Diana and the tray was between them. She wanted breakfast too, and more coffee. She also wanted a shower, preferably with Diana.

  What she didn’t want was to go home. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, she smiled as Diana gobbled up every bite of food that Paris didn’t get to first.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I like that you like food.”

  “I do like food. And I know that feeding the machine means the machine gets to work.” She popped the last piece of banana into her mouth.

  Trying to occupy her eyes with something other than Diana’s every move, Paris studied the objects from the white leather bag Diana had swept to one side while they ate. Paris picked up the electronic device that had slipped out of a protective pouch. It wasn’t very big—about the size of a portable power pack. There was an on-off switch, a minute numeric keypad and a single row LED display. Less functionality than a handheld video game.

  “That is my little friend Sissone,” Diana offered. “Scissors.”

  “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that this is not for cutting paper.”

  “No.” She sighed. “I don’t want to—I mean, I don’t mind telling you what that is. I’m not sure you want to know.”

  “I do. I’m telling myself it’s an academic curiosity.”

  Diana cocked her head, then pointedly looked down at her naked-under-the-sheets body and then at Paris in her robe. “Sure. Academic.”

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

  “I certainly learned a lot last night.”

  “So this is academic for you?”

  “It was definitely something we both seemed to have needed.”

  There was no point in arguing about the obvious. “Are you trying to pick a fight?”

  “Yes. Because this is anything but academic.”

  “I know. I’m trying to lie to myself in what is a very odd situation.”

  “Because anxiety?”

  “Because human.” Because she felt like her heart was on a bull’s-eye and Diana was a huntress with a full quiver of arrows.

  They stared at each other for a long minute. Though she was as usual feeling completely in the dark about what Diana was actually thinking, Paris’s heart was pounding.

  “I don’t know how to do this,” Diana finally said. “So I’ll show you what I do know how to do.”

  She picked up the lockpicks and Sissone and threw back the covers. Paris followed her into the other bedroom. Diana fished the hotel bathrobe out of the closet and shrugged into it. Pulling the door farther open she exposed the front of the small safe set onto the middle shelf.

  “Go ahead and lock it,” she said.

  Paris punched in a code and shut the small door. The mechanism whirred and the display announced it was locked.

  The LED display on Sissone was lit. Diana pressed it above the keypad on the safe and less than a second later the mechanism whirred again. The display read, “Unlocked.”

  “Holy crap,” Paris said.

  “It sends a series of common signals that tell the chip inside that the matching unlock code has been entered.”

  “So anyone in the hotel can open the safe in a second?”

  “Anyone who can afford one of these. Which was expensive. I mean sports car expensive. Maybe not an Italian one, but nearly. It also works just as fast on many typ
es of hotel doors.”

  “So in movies where they have their high-tech gadget spinning through all the possible codes—”

  “They’re doing it the long, hard way. But it’s not as if I’m a tech wizard. I had the money.”

  Paris said exactly what she was thinking. “I’m glad you’re using your powers for good.”

  Diana laughed. “Well, sometimes it’s to satisfy not so noble feelings. If schadenfreude was a deadly sin I’d be in trouble.”

  “Kind of like using the dark magic of your enemies against them.”

  “That’s karma.”

  “Karma takes too long.” Paris slipped an arm around Diana and pulled her close. “I know that in one of my books the characters would head right back to bed at this point.”

  “I noticed it didn’t take much for them to do that.”

  “I really would like a shower.”

  “Preferably not alone, I hope.”

  “Definitely not alone.”

  Diana spun out of her arms, losing her robe in the process. “But no hanky-panky until there’s hot water.”

  There was a great deal of soap and shampoo put to proper use before suds proved useful for a foamy massage. Diana’s fingers were strong and firm as they worked their way up Paris’s spine, then she rinsed it off and opened another bottle. “Moisturizer for in the shower. Great stuff.”

  “If it makes my skin feel like yours, I’m all for it.” Paris braced herself against the shower wall, her nipples like rocks in spite of the steam and warm water. Diana’s palms smoothed the lotion across Paris’s shoulders and down her arms, over her ribs and across her belly. It didn’t seem like any part of her was out of Diana’s reach.

  The feeling of Diana’s small breasts against her back was welcome, but the moment lasted only long enough to realize that Diana was sliding down to her knees. A kiss punctuated with a nibble at the base of her spine sent shivers shooting through her arms and she turned around to see Diana gazing at her with an undeniable hunger. She spread her legs and hoped they wouldn’t fold up—and they nearly did when Diana buried her face between them.

  Her moan of pleasure echoed from the damp walls—then Diana coughed.

  And spluttered, and burst out laughing. “I got water up my nose. I’m sorry—” She clutched Paris’s knees with a loud wheeze.

  Paris’s frustration dissolved into laughter as she helped Diana stand up. “Sex in the shower is fraught with peril.”

  “Oh dear lord!” She snorted and made herself laugh again. “Such an elegant woman I am.”

  “I have to say—there’s a reason I prefer beds.”

  “Well, let’s go with that idea.” She reached for a towel as Paris turned off the water.

  A few minutes later, enjoying the as yet unrumpled sheets of Diana’s bed, Paris asked, “Where were we?”

  “I think what really matters is where I was.” Diana knelt between Paris’s legs and used both hands to caress the inside of her thighs. “This is where I want to be.”

  Diana didn’t stop this time, devouring Paris with a lusty urgency that drew a long groan of pleasure from a place so deep Paris had forgotten it was inside her. Diana’s damp hair was cool against her thighs but there was an untamed fire burning across her skin. She gave herself to it until she was completely consumed.

  When her ragged breathing finally calmed she realized their fingers were intertwined. She tugged on Diana’s hand and Diana scrambled into her arms, cheeks flushed, hair tousled and looking pleased with herself.

  “Is it always like that?”

  “It’s the goal.” Paris pulled her close with what strength she had left.

  She was content to doze, but even so, she knew it wouldn’t last. Sooner or later housekeeping would tap on the door and eventually the hotel would call asking if they intended to check out. Her brain wished life had a freeze frame, just for a moment like this.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Diana startled awake at a knock on the door of the suite. The delicious dozing state slipped away as she heard the door open.

  “Housekeeping,” a woman’s voice called.

  Paris mumbled, “Uh-oh,” and pulled the covers over her, which left Diana naked.

  Diana quickly called out, “Could you come back, please?”

  “Of course, ma’am.” The door shut and all was quiet except for Diana’s pounding heart.

  Paris stuck her head out from under the covers. “All clear?”

  “Yes, and thanks for leaving me déshabillé.” She grabbed a handful of sheet and at least covered her lap, even though the housekeeper was gone. Paris grabbed them back and they rolled into a happy tug-of-war that ended with Paris behind her and her hand between Diana’s legs. She buried her face in the nearest pillow and reveled in the feel of Paris’s body alongside hers. Then the spiral of pleasure took over and she said yes to all of Paris’s whispered questions. Yes, and more.

  * * *

  We can’t fall asleep again, she thought some time later, though they were in danger of doing exactly that. It was good that Paris’s eyes were closed, however. Otherwise she’d see how hungrily Diana was looking at her hands and they would both be lost again. But she couldn’t stop looking at them. They were instruments of extreme pleasure and intense intimacy—and they were too close to her for rational thought.

  She needed to be rational. She wasn’t here to have an affair and neither was Paris. She was no longer here to take back the Chumash Hammer. It was time to go home, enjoy her brother’s wedding and be Diana with her family again. After that… She pushed the thought away.

  Outside the window there was blue sky streaked with pale clouds and the promise of sunshine where tall buildings didn’t block out the light. She didn’t want to leave this hotel room, not even the bed. Not if it meant distance between her body and Paris’s.

  “I think we have to get up.” Diana kept her gaze on the window.

  Paris sighed and the bed shifted as she got to her feet. “More coffee?”

  “Okay.” Don’t look, Diana told herself, but she couldn’t help but watch as Paris left the bedroom. “I should start packing, I suppose. I have more stuff than you do.”

  She caught a glimpse of Paris in the kitchen area, standing still with her arms held out slightly from her sides. She flexed her fingers and shook her arms before beginning the process of making more coffee.

  Goodness, her backside was sexy and firm and…

  Focus, you twit! Accept reality, Diana told herself. Being around you makes her anxious. You’re a trigger and not good for her. Who you are and what you do isn’t compatible with what she needs. You have chemistry in bed, and that’s all it is. You’ve both had your fun. You’ve had a time of self-discovery. Now it’s time to move on.

  She kept repeating this litany as they raided the increasingly depleted minibar. Cashews and dried cranberries filled a few of the empty spots in her stomach.

  “You look worried.” Paris finished a packet of crackers that came with peanut butter and jelly spread.

  “I’ve been thinking.” Desperately, recklessly thinking, she could have added.

  Paris narrowed her gaze, but she was smiling. “Should I be worried?”

  “Not sure. I, well, I’m wondering if we might get somewhere by dropping off a note for Reynard. Get well or something. Since we were there.”

  Paris made a peanut butter-muffled sound that might have been, “Hell no” or “You’re barmy.”

  “And write in it something like ‘get better soon, can’t wait to talk about the movie with you.’ Wouldn’t that say don’t call me unless it’s about that?”

  Paris swallowed. “You’d have to get in all that gear again. Be Anita Topaz again.”

  We wouldn’t part ways for another couple of hours, Diana thought. She was willing to do nearly anything for a few more hours. “I don’t mind, not at all. It seems like basic courtesy. Given what happened. Yesterday. In the restaurant.” Even to her own ears it sounded weak. Ther
e was no reason for Paris to agree.

  “Okay.”

  Diana blinked. “You’re sure?”

  Paris was staring at a point above Diana’s head. “Courtesy, and I get that reminding him about the movie is a good thing.”

  Don’t analyze this, Diana thought. “We can get checked out of here and leave our bags with the bellman.”

  “Have a real lunch,” Paris added.

  “Yes please. Okay. Well then.”

  “Sure.”

  “All right. I’ll pack.”

  “Me too.”

  “Stop that.”

  “Stop what?”

  Diana decided that Paris was too good at raising just one eyebrow. “Standing there all naked and edible.”

  Paris pointedly looked Diana up and down. “Said the kettle to the pot.”

  “We don’t have time. And don’t say ‘the lady doth protest too much.’”

  “And yet, you just did.”

  Diana stuck her hands out in the universal crossed-fingers-warding-off-vampires gesture. “Keep your distance.” She scampered for her own bedroom absolutely certain she could hear Paris’s eyes rolling.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “I remember there was a drugstore on the corner near the RMG building,” Paris said. “We could get a note card there. Something blank and you could write flowery whatevers.”

  “You should write it,” Diana suggested. “Keep the handwriting consistent with whatever they have.” She shot a glance at the cab driver, who seemed oblivious to them.

  Paris nodded absently. “Sure. Let’s get the card and then decide what to write over lunch.”

  Diana’s stomach growled and she saw Paris smile. “Every time you say lunch my stomach goes into flips of joy.”

  The same response happened every time she looked at Paris, to the point of absurdity. Paris had chosen to wear the tailored suit again, and it was delicious and devastating. It’s all chemistry, she told herself. As they browsed for a greeting card she was reminded of when she was a little girl and the nanny would blow soap bubbles after tea to coax her charges to run about the garden. William had delighted in popping them while Florence had been too small to do more than fall on ones that made it to the ground.