by C D Cain
“Get up, sleepy head.” Mo shook my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go up to the rooftop and drink coffee.”
I opened one eye and peeked through. “It’s still dark out.”
“Yeah, but not because it’s late. There’s a rain shower coming in and it’s super cloudy.”
“But the bed is so nice and cozy.” I tried to pull her on top of me but she stood firmly next to the bed. “I want to lie next to you some more.”
“Then get up and let’s go.”
I twirled my finger around the material of her boxer shorts. “Yes, but in here you won’t need these.”
“I won’t need them up there either.”
I sat up to let my legs hang off the side of the bed and pulled her body into me. I lifted up her shirt. “But in here, I can do this,” I mumbled against the skin of her lower belly.
She ran her fingers through my hair. “You can do that up there too.” She knelt down in front of me and took my breath with her kiss. “Come on. Trust me already.” Her words tickled my lips. “I want to show you this.”
She stood up, held her hands out for me to take them, and pulled me up off of the bed. The morning air was cold against my bare legs as we stepped out onto the fire escape.
“Oh yeah, this is very private.” I pulled at the bottom of my shirt tail in a failed attempt to cover the skimpy pajama shorts I was wearing.
“Oh, ye of little faith.” She stepped onto the staircase, reached behind her back for my hand, and led me up toward the rooftop.
“I never knew this was up here,” I said as I climbed the small steps that led over the brick wall of the rooftop.
“Jaz had it renovated a few years ago. We sneak up here at least once when I come over.”
The décor of the home extension carried the same flow as that downstairs—clear glass, walnut-colored wood, and dark metal.
Mo walked to the kitchen area and poured two cups of coffee. “Black, right?”
“Uh, yeah. Black.” I gave the enlarged swing a push. “This thing is pretty awesome.”
“See. I told you.” She ran her hand along the thick pillows that were propped against the wooden backboard. “I’ve slept many nights up here.”
“I can see why. It’s more like a bed than a swing.” The oversized swing reminded me of the porch swings I loved to sit on back home except the bench on this one was wider and longer than the ones I was used to.
“Totally. Jaz had hell when she was first thinking of making it. She was scared it wouldn’t be stable enough but it’s not too bad.” She walked around the swing to open the three sliding glass doors. A breeze poured through them and brought with it the smell of an impending rain.
“Climb in and I’ll hand you your coffee.” She steadied one of four thick metal chains fastened to the corner of the bed-type swing with her hand so that I could climb onto it.
“The breeze feels nice.” I leaned against the tall backboard and stretched my legs out in front of me. The bench was long enough that my feet didn’t come near touching the end of the cushion.
“See I told you.” She shook her head. “When are you ever going to start trusting me?”
“Oh, I trust you alright.”
“Is that so?” She climbed in next to me.
“That is so.” I kissed her lips as she brought them closer to me.
“Maybe we’ll test that theory one day.” She winked at me as she took a sip of her coffee.
We settled our backs against the softness of the pillows. She swept her leg over mine and we stared out into the sky as we quietly drank our coffee. The width of the swing did afford her room to not have to sit so close to me but I was surely happy she had chosen not to use the extra space. I was enjoying the feeling of her body nestled up against mine.
Clouds swollen and grayed with the threatening rain hovered right above the skyline. Slowly, they moved closer to us to kick up the breeze to blow Mo’s hair across her face. She tucked the freed strands behind her ear. Distant thunder rumbled in the quiet.
A smile twitched at her lips. “I love weather like this.”
I felt a heat rush my neck as I pictured her head lying against the pillow with the same type of smile playing at her lips. Last night, I had pushed the thought of her sharing her body with the many women I knew had seen her beauty before me. I pretended my touch was the first she had felt. Otherwise, I doubt I would have been able to overcome the hesitation in my timid, inexperienced hands as they explored her. She had lain in front of me and welcomed anything I wanted to give her.
She brought her cup back to her lips. I studied the tattoo on her wrist and remembered the night before when I had kissed the musical note found there. Her pulse underneath the ink had quickened with the trace of my tongue. It raced even more when I kissed her neck. Her breath became more labored with each sweep of my tongue upon her neck. I watched her take another swallow of coffee. Her lips parted to take in the sip. They had parted in much the same way last night when I first touched her. She had taken in a sharp inhalation as I first went inside of her. Raindrops tapped on the roof in a rhythm much like the pulse of her neck that I had watched while I explored her. Rolling thunder broke through the patter of rain as her moans had broken through the depths of her breaths. The wind strengthened and brushed the scent of her hair across my nose. The scent I had inhaled as her body moved against me under the light sheet. She brushed the fallen strands again behind her ear but my mind took me to the night before when her hand was swiftly brought into the side of her hair as she lifted her body into me. A flash of lightning buried deep in the clouds gave light to the sky and my daydream of the desire in her eyes as she tightened the grip of her hand in her hair. I had been entranced with her every response to me as I made love to her. I watched her teeth as they bit into her bottom lip. My body molded into hers when her back arched into me.
The raindrops beat faster and trickled down the glass. I felt her in my hands again. The way I knew who I truly was from the moment I was inside of her. Thunder rose and rolled through the clouds just as her body had risen into me and rolled into my life. An impending storm that would not be denied. Lightning flashed. As dark as the room was the night before, it didn’t have enough strength to keep the light from me when Mo gave herself to me. Her release within my touch unshackled my darkness. Lightning flashed again and gave light to the darkness that had been forever changed by the feel of our bodies held tightly together.
“What are you thinking about?”
I took the cup from her hands, set mine beside hers next to the bed, tucked my finger under the collar of her shirt, and pulled her toward me.
“This,” I whispered against her lips. I took her in my arms and relived the awakening of my own storm the night before as the rain pattered against the roof. The swing flowed in the breeze of us.
“What’s next? I mean, I’ve never done this before.”
“This?” Mo looked up over her menu. “Generally, you look at the menu and pick out something that looks good to you.”
“You know that isn’t what I mean.” I leaned across the table to whisper, “A one-night stand.”
She met me as she leaned forward too. “A one-night stand, you say?” she whispered and then began to lightly laugh. “By my count, it was one night, one morning, and one very long afternoon.”
Somehow, I foolishly thought maybe my ability to blush would be lessened after the night she and I had experienced. I was wrong. I felt it take over my cheeks yet again. Carefully, I leaned back away from her before she noticed. Although, I couldn’t go back too far as the small padded stools didn’t give much leeway in leaning back too far. At least they were only about a foot off of the floor so it wouldn’t be a high fall.
“You are so adorable.” She poured us a glass of white wine that she had ordered for dinner. “Here, sip on this. It’ll calm some of those nerv
es you seem to have found now that you’ve got clothes on.”
The blush returned full fold and Mo laughed. I glanced around to see if anyone was eavesdropping on our conversation to notice two women who had spent the last day wrapped passionately in one another’s arms. Quickly, I became angry with myself and the inbred fear of wondering what those around me thought of my actions. What the hell did it matter anyway if complete strangers had any inclination of the experience I had just had?
She held her glass up. “To our weekend of new experiences.” She clinked it against mine. “For both of us.”
The taste of the riesling caught me off guard. It wasn’t as sweet as I remembered and I was quite sure I flinched or made a face as I swallowed it.
Mo chuckled. “What? You don’t like it?”
“No. It isn’t that. I wasn’t expecting it. I thought this wine was sweeter than this.”
“Not all rieslings are sweet.”
I brought the glass up to my nose. There was a weird scent of petrol. “It sort of smells like diesel fuel. Maybe it’s bad. Like spoiled or something?”
Mo laughed loudly. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have laughed. You’re just so damn cute. I remember what it was like when Jaz and I first started drinking wine. Let’s try it again and if you don’t like it, we’ll order another bottle or a beer. Deal?”
“Deal.” Although I would have agreed to anything at that moment. She could have said, “Hey, let’s go rob a bank after dinner,” and I most likely would have nodded my head in agreement. She was absolutely stunning. The restaurant’s backdrop brought out the green of her eyes brilliantly. They nearly sparkled as she looked at me.
Her expression turned serious. Perhaps she read something in mine as I watched her. She slowly brought her hand to her mouth and bit at her thumbnail. She took in a deep breath.
“Has anyone ever told you how dangerous those eyes of yours are?” she asked around the thumb resting against her bottom lip.
I couldn’t speak so I simply shook my head.
“Well, they are. I swear I can read them sometimes. I can tell what you’re thinking.” She looked around the restaurant before fixating on the stone pillar at the end of our table. “If this had given us four walls instead of this one lonely column, I fear I would have to take you right here…right now. No wonder we haven’t eaten. All I want to do is take you back to bed.”
Butterflies swarmed my belly and refused to let go. “We could get it to go.” My voice was shaky and soft.
“Or we could eat the fabulous meal I’ve ordered. Finish off a bottle of wine. All the while your eyes will continue to drive me crazy so that the moment we step into Jaz’s apartment, all I will be able to do is rip your clothes off and hold you until the sun comes up.”
“Or, yes. There’s always that option.”
Mo shifted on the stool and watched me in silence for a few moments before clearing her throat. “Now, let’s see what we can do with this wine,” she said softly. She brought her glass up to her nose and inhaled. “Try to smell past the diesel fuel. What do you smell beyond that?”
I brought the glass to my nose and breathed in its scent. I blocked the thought of petrol from my senses and inhaled deeper. “Hmmmm…citrus? Sort of smells like citrus.” I smelled the wine again. “Oh, and honey. I smell honey.”
A smile spread across her face. “Perfect. Okay, so this time after you breathe in to get the aroma past the noxious, I want you to take a sip. Swish it in your mouth until you can no longer detect the smell and then swallow.”
I did as she instructed.
She followed my movements. “Now, what do you taste?”
“Mostly pineapple but with a hint of lime and apricot.”
“Perfect.” She smiled even broader. “That’s why it’s such a good choice with Indian food. It’s the interaction you go for. The wine must complement the food, not take away from it. This wine won’t take away from the complexities of spices in the dishes I ordered.” She stopped and leaned back away from the table. “What? What’s that look for?”
“I don’t know. It’s just sometimes you surprise me with things you say.”
“Like what? Why?”
“Well, you’re a Harley-riding, leather-wearing deejay who just taught me how to appreciate the combination of wine and food pairings. Doesn’t actually add up, you know?”
“Don’t we all have layers, Rayne? Don’t we all have sides to ourselves that we don’t share with everyone? Sides we only share with a few?”
I thought of the past day in her arms. I thought of Sam. She was the first outside of Meems that I had shown myself to. Yet hadn’t I hidden some from her as well? Wasn’t it true, I felt I couldn’t share everything with her? I didn’t share my insecurities of what being a lesbian would mean for fear I would hurt her or push her away. I didn’t share my fears of what a life with her would do to my future. Well, I didn’t until the end on the night I tried to see her through the tears blinding my eyes. The night I broke as I watched the mascara smear down her face. And then there was Meems. Hadn’t I hidden from her, too? The one woman I felt loved me above and beyond every single wrong or right I could have ever done. Yet, I hid even from her.
The waiter brought our food to the table and broke my memories before the pain crept in. I finally noticed the colors surrounding me. My focus on Mo had prevented me from appreciating the pop of red in the restaurant’s light fixtures, cloth table coverings, and wall decorations. Other than those key elements, the majority of the setting was made up of different tones of brown from a light beige of the stone walls to a rich dark chocolate in the molding and decorative clay pottery.
“I know we said we wouldn’t, but do you want to talk about her?” Mo picked up my plate and filled it with the chickpea dish the waiter had set down alongside the Tandoori chicken. The smell of curry took over my senses as she spooned the chickpeas onto my plate.
“Which her?”
Mo raised her head up and gazed at me. “There’s more than one her? And that’s why, folks, you don’t assume anything.” She filled her plate and rested the spoon along the lip of the bowl. “I’m sorry, I guess I always thought there had only been one woman in your life.”
“There was only one like you’re thinking.”
“I don’t get it.”
“What you see…what you sometimes see when you look at me. The sadness? It’s because of two women in my life.” I reached for my wine and watched the liquid swirl up against the sides of the glass as I swirled it. I took a swallow to squash the tears I did not want to fall tonight. “I get sad when I think of my grandmother and a woman named Sam.”
“Ah.” She reached into the basket on the far side of the table. “Here, try this with it. It’s called naan. It’s a type of bread.” She handed me a round, brown-spotted white bread. “Do you want to talk about them?”
“Is that what you want?”
“To get to know you better? For you to let me in? Yes, that’s what I want. If it’s what you want.” She held up her fork to stop me from answering. “But if you do, then you have to eat while you talk. We’ve not had food since yesterday. I don’t want you passing out on me.” She smiled and pointed her fork at my plate before taking a bite herself.
I felt the heat again rush to my cheeks with the flashback of pulling Mo’s body against mine as tight as I could. I hadn’t seemed to be able to pull her close enough to me. A part of me already feared the next day. The day we would say goodbye. I knew I would see her again but in what capacity I had no idea. I wondered what it would feel like to see her again with all we have shared plus the exposure of opening up to her. Yet in the same breath, I had grown so tired of always fearing or planning for the future of what could happen instead of living in the moment of now. In the here and now, I had this gorgeous woman sitting across from me, sharing an experience of new food and wishing to kno
w more about me. A woman whose attention was desired by so many lesbians and yet here she sat with me. Smiling at me. Wanting to know all of me. It was a freedom I didn’t have with Sam. No matter what I told Mo, she wouldn’t change the way she felt about me or about what she wanted from me. She didn’t want the whole pie like Sam did. She didn’t want the sunset. She wanted the moment.
“The first part of eating is to actually pick up a utensil.”
I blinked several times and looked down at the plate she had put in front of me. “I’m sorry. My mind wandered away for a minute.”
“Yeah, I see that. I think my head is going to spin right off of me if you ever start taking me on the journeys in your mind. Damn, girl, does that brain of yours ever stop?”
“Not too often, no.”
“We’re going to have to see what we can do to slow it down one day.” She motioned her fork at me before taking another bite of food. “It’s a little spicy but I think a Cajun girl like you can take it.” She winked as she took a healthy swallow of the white wine.
I grinned. “Let’s see what you call spicy.” The curry and cayenne seasoning of the chickpeas warmed my tongue but didn’t send the sometimes-searing hurried need for cooling after I tasted foods back home. Nonetheless, I took a swallow of the wine Mo had selected to pair with dinner. She had done well. “You’re right. The wine does complement the spices of the food. It’s like it enhances it.”
Her smile was wide as she popped a piece of naan into her mouth. “Thank you. It’s much like the company sitting across from me.”
I let the matching smile reach my heart and calm my nerves of opening up to her and remembering. “I would say there are two women who’ve changed my life. One I’ve always known and one I knew for only a short while. Both of them are gone now.”
“Gone?”
“Yes. Memaw passed away last November.”
She covered my hand with her own. “I’m so sorry.”
I didn’t flinch away from her touch even with all eyes to see. In fact, I rolled my hand over and basked in the comfort of it.