“About you and me?”
“What do you think I mean?” Robin slapped her lover’s thigh.
“But there are a few matters to be resolved before we start over,” Leslie said.
“Like what?”
“Like Rosalie.”
“She’s easy, send her packing.”
Robin’s cold dismissal of Leslie’s lover was almost chilling.
“And the case,” Leslie added.
“You mean Jane?”
“I mean this case. I’m not going to get involved with you until we solve this thing.”
“What in heaven’s name does that have to do with anything? You’re already involved with me. Since when has work come between what we want as lovers?”
“I just want to put some space between this particular case and my sex life. I don’t want to be having sex with you just because I got a little horny while I was working.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Robin said.
“It probably is, but it’s what I want. I like things settled. You should know that.”
She did. Robin remembered other times when Leslie had a problem responding sexually while they were in the midst of a sticky case—though there had never been an investigation quite like this one… nothing as sexually stimulating, nothing apt to provoke their sexual response in such a dramatic way.
“Okay, okay…” Robin sighed, “I can live with that. We’ll hold off until things are settled. Although by the feel of it, that might just be tomorrow.”
“Yeah, well,” Leslie sounded doubtful… “But there is one more thing.”
Robin didn’t say anything. With her head resting on Leslie’s soft chest, she could feel her breath and hear her beating heart. There was a steadiness about Leslie she loved, but she knew that this steady person had her limits and the murder investigation had taken her partner right to the edge. “It’s Jane, isn’t it?” she finally said.
There was some hesitation, then Leslie saying, “Yeah, kind of. I don’t know what it is about that woman. But as long as she’s not the killer – you never know she just might be – I’ve got to find out what it is I want from her.”
“I think that’s pretty obvious. I know what I want from her,” Robin said.
“We’ll see. I’ve told you before, women like Jane don’t really excite me.”
“Except that one,” Robin suggested.
“Except that one,” Leslie agreed. The woman’s mannish face appeared in her mind, as if Jane had taken up residence and was watching her now.
An hour later, the twilight glow around them had faded to darkness. Leslie jiggled the sleeping Robin. It was the first time in a week, since the case began, that Leslie had felt this peaceful. She knew it was the sex and Robin that made her feel this way, but she also knew that the feeling would be short-lived, and this brief respite would only add to the confusing mix inside her.
“Don’t you suppose we should go find Jane now?” Leslie wondered aloud.
“Why?” Robin asked opening one eye.
“I thought you were the one who wanted to take our findings to the police right away.”
“It can wait.” Robin stretched lazily against Leslie’s warm body.
“It’s only,” Leslie reached for the clock by the side of the bed, “ … eight o’clock.
“My how time flies,” Robin said, sighing. Her hand moved slowly over Leslie’s thigh. “You did pretty well for your first time in bondage.”
“First time, huh? Maybe it wasn’t the first, how do you know?” Leslie joked.
“I’d know. I’d see it in your eyes.”
“Yeah, you probably would,” Leslie agreed. “So do we go stake out the mansion and wait for Jane to show, or do we lie here in bed all night?”
“I’m opting for the latter. I guess I’m a slut at heart, if you hadn’t taken off your clothes for me, I’d say we go back to work. But since you’re naked and I am too, and we can do anything our hearts desire all night long, I think we should just stay.”
“Well I don’t know about anything our hearts desire,” Leslie said, “but I do like the prospects of spending the whole night in this bed. I’ve slept in a four poster before, and this is downright,” she searched for a word, “bohemian.” She stared up to the dark canopy, a deep black hole that seemed to be dropping down to surround them both.
“I’m glad you like it. I thought you might,” Robin said. Almost as if she’d planned this place especially for Leslie. “We’ll see what other possibilities evolve. How about a little break, some decaffeinated cappuccino?”
Chapter Thirteen
Leslie opened her eyes in unfamiliar surroundings. There were four posts around her that for an instant made her think she was in the midst of a bad dream, in the middle of Felicia’s last nightmare. Feeling another body beside her, she looked to see Robin sleeping with her back to her. What a memory that raised! The lovely curve at her waist widened to her hips and the soft flesh of her undulating rear cheeks, with their pink cleft. Her blonde hair was strewn around her in casual disarray, which only added to her sexual allure. The aroma of her body was strong and sweet to smell. What had gone wrong between them? she wondered. At that moment, she could hardly remember. If she touched her, would she awaken? No, she wouldn’t spoil the moment; Robin was like a child at rest, peaceful, content, perfect as she was.
Leslie wanted to wish away their awkward moments together. Beginning anew was tough, but there were things they couldn’t avoid. She hoped that Rosalie hadn’t come home the night before. Her pretty Latina lover wouldn’t worry about her being gone. But still Leslie felt guilty… especially since she wasn’t working at all, but having sex with her former lover.
The truth was, Robin was a better lover than Rosalie, not that Rosalie wasn’t wonderful in her own endearing way. But Robin was always the best; she always had been, and likely always would be in Leslie’s mind. After everything the two had been through together over the past ten years, Leslie was still in love with her business partner and she imagined that would never change.
It was hard to take her mind off their surprising reunion… once the initial sex was over, they drank decaffeinated cappuccino in the nude, then showered before tumbling back in bed, giggling like school girls over some really stupid old horror movie on TV. Suddenly the tables were turned when Leslie impulsively tied Robin’s hands above her head. She slapped the blonde’s breasts until they were red all over, listening to her egg her on, “Don’t stop, ooo yes, do it more…” Robin had repeated a dozen times. The feeling of dominance Leslie experienced had been remarkable. Having Robin at her mercy produced a feeling of power that was as good an aphrodisiac as any sex act she’d ever experienced. It was sexual, but it was so much more that – all still difficult for her to understand.
Was this what Jane felt when she grabbed at chains suspended from clamped nipples, or raised a whip against immobile flesh? Did Jane cum just from the sensations of power that brute domination generated? Leslie didn’t orgasm in the midst of abusing Robin’s tits, but she might have if she’d gone on long enough. She stopped short of letting the feeling overtake her body, needing to move slowly into this foreign world. At least for now.
They loved each other long into the night, long after the clock across the street hit midnight. And then, sometime in the wee hours of the morning, they collapsed into a heap exhausted, and fell asleep.
Even when they were living together, they hadn’t had sex like that – that long or that wild, that profoundly powerful. Maybe Robin was right, Leslie mused, maybe she needed to dive into the savage fetish life that was all around her now.
For the first time ever, she wanted to know everything about Robin’s S&M scene. What her Dommes were like, who’d marked on her breasts – the small marks on Robin’s flesh that were now just faint lines etched into her pearly skin. How had Robin felt when the blows were delivered? And how long ago had it been? Maybe just a day or two, maybe a week? Maybe
in the last few days, Robin had submitted to another woman. Leslie’s quaking body shivered at that thought. And who was that other woman? Were they lovers too? Or just top and bottom? Domme and sub?
Leslie looked at her own breasts, seeing that she was still able to distinguish four of the six cuts Robin had burned into her flesh the night before. She’d been hurt, abused – if ever so lightly. She’d been at Robin’s mercy, and she realized only now how much she loved the surrender that had been demanded of her while she’d been bound. Would she feel the same way if she were bound by Jane, her breasts marked by Jane’s crop, her mind and body forced to surrender to Jane’s command?
Leslie pulled herself from the bed; she didn’t want to but she had to pee. On returning to the room, she saw Robin’s peacefully sleeping body, and for a moment, she stared at her lover’s gentle face before she reached down to pick up the alarm clock that had fallen to the floor sometime in the midst of sex the night before.
“Damn,” Leslie said aloud. It was nearly nine o’clock. It had been weeks since she’d slept in that late.
The phone rang and she answered it, while seeing Robin open her eyes and stare up at her in wonder.
“Leslie?” The voice was all too familiar.
Ouch! It was Rosalie.
“Yeah babe, we got exhausted casing out a suspect and just crashed here. I’m sorry I didn’t leave a message, I didn’t think you’d be home.”
She waited through an awkward silence, feeling sure that Rosalie didn’t believe her story.
“Yeah, that’s why I was calling,” Rosalie said. “I was worried when you didn’t come home.”
“I thought you were gone for another week?”
“Things pooped out, but hey, I thought maybe I’d take off for Sonora. See my brother.”
“Really?” Leslie said cautiously. Rosalie didn’t go see her brother unless something was bothering her. “Anything wrong?”
“No. Just not seen him in awhile. I miss Mexico. You want to go?” she asked, as an afterthought.
“God, Rosie, wouldn’t I love it, but we’re still working on this case. It’s a nasty one, but I think we’ll have the answers we need real soon.”
Leslie looked down, seeing Robin watching as she rattled off her string of lies.
“I’ll be about a week, you take care, pretty buns,” Rosalie said. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Leslie answered. She heard the phone click, then she hung up. “How did I do?” Leslie asked.
“I would never have bought your story, but I suppose it depends on how much she wanted to believe you.”
“I don’t think she did. She’s going to see her brother.”
“So?”
“She’s ready to split, I can tell. Last night was just the icing on the cake. I feel it in her voice.”
“Just your intuition?” Robin asked.
“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me, but Rosalie is not hard to figure out.” She sighed, a little sad, a little relieved, and not sure which feeling would stick. “But hey, we don’t have much time, it’s already nine. Jane’s probably left and we’ll be on a wild goose chase all day finding her.”
***
Martha was finishing the breakfast dishes in the kitchen when Zelda came up from behind her and playfully grabbed her ass. “You going to the library this morning?” she asked.
“No. At one,” Martha replied. “It will feel good to get back to work.”
“So is Remy leaving soon?”
“She’s due at her lab at ten, I think.”
“Oh, then, we have the house to ourselves,” Zelda purred. “Do what we couldn’t do yesterday?” Her eyes glimmered hopefully.
Martha turned around and gazed into the redhead’s eyes. They looked green today, but they often changed color. Maybe it was the bright green shirt she wore.
They both thought of the missed moments the day before, their sexual attempt obviously had been ill-timed. They should have figured that Leslie and Robin would be nosing around their lives again. By the time detectives Patrick and Penny were done, they’d upset everyone so much that getting back to sex was impossible.
Martha still wanted some time with Zelda, time to lie back and luxuriate in her steamy sensuality. That kind of sexual release was something she longed for that didn’t happen often in her life. She was the kind to give and give and give, taking little for herself. Felicia would talk about giving her what she wanted, but other than that wild woman demanding that Martha abuse her, and having the satisfaction that came with dominating the bitch, Martha usually brought herself off. Felicia was always too strung out to tongue her pussy at the finish. She often wondered if all submissives acted like Dominants right in the middle of a submissive scene.
One thing for sure, Zelda wasn’t demanding the way Felicia was. Whether she took a dominant or submissive role, Zelda would give to her without demanding everything in return. She’d seen the woman nurture Remy, how lavish she was with her sensuousness body. Now Martha needed that herself.
“You really think we’ll finally have some privacy?” Martha asked, leaning in to kiss Zelda’s very soft lips.
“How about we go upstairs, take the phone off the hook, not answer the doorbell. Even Jane won’t be around to ruin things,” Zelda said.
Their hands roved more aggressively as they embraced, their lips meeting tenderly time after time. “Remy won’t be gone for a few minutes yet,” Martha said, pulling away reluctantly. Her thighs were already trembling, her heart pounding with need, she wanted Zelda now.
“Well then, we’ll just wait, it won’t be long,” Zelda quipped. She grinned, thoughts of sex motivating her to blow a meaningful kiss in Martha’s direction, as she left the room.
Robin and Leslie drove to the Hill after they’d quickly showered and dressed. They didn’t talk about sex the night before, or Leslie being tied to the bed. By mutual agreement, it would be a while before they’d be in bed together again. That fact made their morning a bittersweet moment, halting and uneasy.
At the base of the hill, they spotted the little red compact car that Remy drove, turning right on the street and moving away from them in the direction of the lab at the university.
“Must be going back to work,” Robin said.
“She looked a little flustered,” Leslie said. “Didn’t even see us.”
“Just as well, our business is not with her. If she’d seen us now, she’d probably have an accident. I’m surprised that Martha doesn’t drive her to work.”
“Perhaps she’s not as confused as she sounds. It wouldn’t surprise me if she has spells of very lucid thinking.”
“You think she’s guilty, don’t you?” Leslie asked.
“I think we’ll know more after we’ve finished with Jane,” Robin assured her.
They drove up the long driveway to the top of the hill, Roman Hill standing like a monolith over the city below. Its purpose didn’t seem as clear to Robin as it once had been – a haven for lesbians in need of a quite playground away from the judgments of the world. Now it seemed like a relic that would be best bull-dozed away once the murder was solved. A bed and breakfast? She wasn’t sure it would fly, unless someone wanted to give ghost tours, or mystery nights, or something like that.
They parked close to the garden, just a short walk to Jane’s cottage. The detectives hoped that Jane Hugh was still at home. There was no excuse for not having been there bright and early, except for the lust that had overcome them both.
“I wonder if Martha is back to work, too,” Leslie said. She stared up at the dark windows looking out to the garden, thinking of Martha’s disgruntled face staring down at them the day before. Perhaps the woman didn’t know, but Leslie had seen her scowling at them from her perch. Later, when they seemed to interrupt her and Zelda, the same scowl was only thinly disguised by her civility.
Reaching the cottage now, they could see a light still on. A knock on the door and Jane answered moments later.
�
��So, to what do I owe this visit?” she said. Her eyes were without a hint of malice, her tone not in the least accusatory, just curious.
“We’ve made some discoveries that we’d like to talk to you about,” Leslie said. “May we come in?”
“Sure,” Jane said. Holding the door wide, she let them pass.
There always was an air of authority about her that suggested in any situation she would be in control. Robin wondered if she would still be in control if the police should arrest her.
“I’m surprised you two can confront me at all,” Jane said, with a pleased smirk. “You look as if you’re creaming in your pants.”
Leslie was taken aback, not realizing that she was so obvious with her lust. The truth was, she was ‘creaming’ in her pants. Just seeing the woman, it was difficult not to think of being dominated by her.
“Is that supposed to disarm us?” Robin quickly replied to the sarcastic remark.
“Just stating what I see. It doesn’t bother me,” Jane said. “If I was prone to be flattered, I suppose I would be now.”
“You’re assuming a lot,” Leslie said, while trying to regain her composure.
“Am I?” Jane’s eyes flashed.
“There are some things we have to ask you, Jane,” Robin immediately changed the subject. “Some very curious holes in your story, lies in fact. We’d like some explanations.”
“Why don’t you just take this to the police?” Jane asked.
“Because frankly, we don’t think you murdered Felicia,” Leslie jumped in.
“But you have to ask.” Jane moved to her leather chair and sat down, motioning Robin and Leslie to the couch opposite her.
“We found pictures of you and Felicia in her room, you had her bound just like she was bound when she died. The very same knots that her murderer used.”
“Hum. Curious, isn’t it?” Jane said, although she was not at all perturbed by the information.
Leslie went on the offensive. “You were having sex with Felicia here at Roman Hill, what appears to be many times, and you brought her to the club. Your relationship with her was more than just a sour business partnership.”
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