by Lynn Ames
In fact it was Fran, Samantha remembered, who had the stronger knowledge of Nina back when this all started, who cautioned and even occasionally coached Samantha. The memory made her smile. There were two occasions when they disagreed about her approach to the strong but still secretly and deeply scarred woman they both loved. One occasion had turned out well, and the other, Samantha considered ruefully, they were seemingly all paying for now.
How do I tell her without pushing her in any way?How can she make a decision that’s free and wholly her own if she’s not fully aware of everything?
It hit her suddenly. She didn’t have to tell Nina anything, because such a telling could force things and that forcing was anathema to them all. But I can let her know! Samantha realized, eyes growing wide. I can do that without pushing or forcing anything!
A subtle hint, Samantha decided, that’s all it would take. Well, given what Nina had already shown, perhaps not too subtle, but still, it would probably give Nina all the information she needed to make her own decision.
Tomorrow was a full day. There were meetings, there was a gig, there was the party at some club they had to go to since it was being thrown for them by the venue owners and, of course, there were the plans that Samantha had begun.
She didn’t know how or when she would do it, but as she closed her eyes, Samantha knew exactly what she had to do next.
***
All Nina could remember of her dreams the next day was that they were a confused medley and muddle of image and emotion. She fell asleep sitting up on the bed with Fran held close, woke up when Samantha came in, and when next she wakened, she had a few moments of warm peace hearing the low conversation between Fran and Sam—Frankie and Sammer, as they called each other quietly.
She let the soft murmur of their voices fill her drowsiness with a satisfied calm for that little bit of time before the regret that she’d ever come between them rose and filled her eyes. Then she remembered the demands of the day and jumped out of bed. There was a quick round of good morning affections, and she hit the ground running.
A hasty breakfast meeting took place in Ren’s rooms where they quickly discussed and agreed to cut out an interested party. Nina was aghast to hear the conversation that Samantha had had the night before. “A small man, uh, mind,” Samantha began, “with big ideas.” But there was no time for anything but that quick review and an even quicker agreement on how they would proceed during the official meeting that would take place in an hour.
They all promised to meet again the next morning and discuss final details before any official signings or promises were made. There werehints of something more to come in that conversation, but then before there was an opportunity to ask…the next meeting was underway. There was, at its start, the rapid, polite-but-firm dismissal of the rejected party with its attendant brief explanation euphemistically positioned as incompatible differences but in reality, ethical ones. “We have them. They don’t,” as Fran stated in their earlier, private meeting. Then it was onward with outlines and plans, stats and projections, and the tentative assignments of rights and responsibilities.
Bear had to be picked up from the airport and there was a flurry of activity with instruments and stage-wear. Then it was back to the venue for yet another sound check now that Bear was there to run the sound and lighting boards since this, as opposed to the dress rehearsal of the night before, was a real show with a paying audience.
The performance lasted longer than Nina thought it would. The audience was more enthusiastic and responsive than usual, and the band responded in turn. That was followed by the truly unavoidable, entourage-encumbered journey and entrance to the club. Nina rolled her eyes at the memory. It was only now that Nina had a moment of silence and solitude, although standing at the bar surrounded by strangers still high from the concert could hardly be called either of those things.
As she sipped at her cup of juice, Nina allowed her mind to wander where it would, then let her eyes do the same. She spotted regular club-goers and the rest of the band, Toya’s troupe and the venue administrators, and even some of the suits that she’d met with earlier, milling about, drinking, dancing, having what seemed to be a good time. More than likely, she decided, some hand-picked press was there too.
She let her gaze continue to drift until it finally found Bear, who was heartily enjoying both his beer and an animated conversation and dance with Fran. Nina focused on her, the way she angled her head, the flow of her hair, the brilliant flash of her smile, and the beautiful curve of her lips when she laughed. Nina’s eyes traveled further down the elegant length of Fran’s neck, rested on the glorious rise of—
Samantha’s warm presence announced itself half a second before she wrapped herself around Nina and leaned her cheek against hers. “She really is amazing, isn’t she?” Samantha asked quietly. Nina thought she sounded wistful as well.
Guilt over coming between Samantha and Fran twisted through Nina, but the wistful note in Samantha’s voice and the real love and comfort that radiated from her, opened Nina to a new awareness as together they watched the wonder that moved before them.
It was in that stillness, with Fran before her and her Samantha wrapped around her, that the words finally floated free, easy and clear in Nina’s mind. I love her—I’m in love with her. She’d always known the first part, and the second, she supposed she ignored, out of fear, out of ignorance, and perhaps a thousand other stupid reasons. But there was a third part left to acknowledge, and it made itself clear the second she saw one of the members of the dance troupe cut in to dance with Fran. God! I wanther.
The knowledge of it hit her hard, threaded through the guilt with shame, and slammed into her with heated and heavy urgent fullness. It stole her breath and pounded with bruising force against her heart.
Nina’s whole world tilted. Had Samantha not already held her, Nina was certain she’d have fallen. As it was, she couldn’t prevent leaning harder into Samantha’s embrace.
“Go dance with her,” Samantha encouraged softly. Her breath whispered against the sensitive skin behind Nina’s ear. It felt the same way it had when they made love the night before, when Samantha asked her to look up, to see them and the reflection of the love they made. One physical memory brought others, and Nina, already off-balance, felt the ground beneath her cant further.
The minute shake of her head rubbed Nina’s cheek against Samantha’s. It took effort to breathe, to speak. “Maybe later.” The words were faint, even to her own ears.
Samantha loosened her hold and slid around to face her. She took Nina’s now half-full cup from her hand and placed it on the bar. “Then dance with me…it’s been a while.” She smiled and, despite her turmoil, Nina couldn’t help but smile in return at the lips she frequently and freely admitted she was addicted to kissing.
She glanced up and was caught in the placid blue glow of Samantha’s gaze. Love and desire flowed from it, and Nina’s heart raced. “Yes, it has,” she agreed, and for the first time, perhaps ever, Nina allowed herself to be led to the dance floor.
For a little while, Nina was lost in the rhythm. She let the music and the motion cascade over and through her and released all the tension to the dance. Samantha’s raw sensuality, coupled to the heavy beat, played well to her state of mind.
Here and there, a flash of light went off. Wonder if that’s private or for the press.Nina shrugged the thought away. It didn’t really matter, either way.
“Hey, good party, huh?” Bear asked as he bumped into her. “Better than Prague.”
Nina shared a laugh with him. “But not quite like London.”
“But neither of those would ever beat Madrid,” Samantha said, her voice mischievous and light in Nina’s ear.
Nina raised an eyebrow as she faced her partner. “Don’t you mean Ibiza?” When it came to parties and party towns, as much as she loved her native city of New York, so far as Nina was concerned, Ibiza beat the world.
“’Biza totally rock
s!” Bear seconded, his head bouncing in time to the rhythm that surrounded them.
“For parties, Ibiza, sure,” Samantha agreed, “but for amazing, beautiful, wonderful? Madrid. Absolutely.” She wore an enigmatic smile.
Nina stared. Madrid brought memories with it, memories that beat through her already heightened state with both an emotional and visceral reality that very much resonated in the present. Nina’s world was again a-swirl; the dance haze was gone.
“What do you mean?” she asked carefully.
Samantha laughed lightly as she gazed about the dance floor, then found who she was searching for in the direction of the bar. “Why don’t we ask Fran?” she asked, as she waved her over.
Nina’s every nerve jumped into hyper-alertness. “I’ll take your word for it,” she answered, but Fran was already there.
“Hey, they did a really good job with this party, don’t you think?” she asked, her voice pitched to rise above the din of the music and the crowd. Her face wore the incredible smile Nina now clearly knew she still was—and had probably always been—very much in love with. Even had she wanted to, she couldn’t stop staring. With that smile before her, all Nina could think was that she wanted nothing more than to touch its corners, round its curves, taste its depth.
“Awesome!” Bear agreed as Samantha reached for Fran’s hand and pulled her closer to them. “And Sam here is saying that Madrid beats ‘Biza for parties. What do you say?”
“That’s not it exactly,” Samantha corrected him with a laugh. “I said Ibiza was great for parties, but for sheer wonder, Madrid. What do you say?”
Nina wasn’t sure exactly when any of them had stopped dancing. She cast her gaze downward, and her eyes caught and loved the elegant, sensual fit of Fran and Samantha’s hands together. She vividly remembered how that joined touch had felt, remembered too, how hers blended with it, and heat joined memory.
Nina glanced up, and watched a flush, visible even in this erratic light, rise on Fran’s cheeks. The world stopped and for a moment; Nina thought her heart might too.
“Madrid.” The answer was low, barely audible, and Nina wasn’t certain if she’d merely read Fran’s lips. But they were closer now, so perhaps it didn’t matter. “I lovedMadrid,” Fran continued. “And you’re right, Sammer,” she said, directing her gaze to her, “I should never have left like that.”
The music, the rhythm, the party, even Bear, were forgotten as Nina stood there, shocked by the admission, by the real discussion they were finally having under the surface conversation. Fran took her hand, brought it to her lips, and kissed it. “I’m sorry.”
Every moment, every touch, every word, the offers and promises both Samantha and Fran had made when they’d last been together in Spain replayed and lived in Nina’s mind, a thundering tumble that beat with her blood.
Nina reached delicate fingers to touch Fran’s chin, brushed her thumb along her cheek. With Samantha’s hand firmly in hers, Nina didn’t wonder or worry about anything at all as another light flared near them. She followed her heart and kissed her desire.
***
The car ride back had been…interesting. It was not the sensual make-out fest of porn fantasies, nor was it filled with the casual rough banter of friends and teammates. There were long silences occasionally punctuated by intense short questions, followed by even briefer answers—exchanges that were in essence the confirmation of very necessary permissions, accompanied by the affirmation that, yes, they were really going to do this, because they wanted to, because they needed to. Sober. Clear.
“It’s not…it’s not because of—this isn’t just some sort of strange sympathy thing?” Fran asked into the tense silence that grew as they traveled back to the hotel, her nerves and fears at the surface now.
The answer was quick, almost vehement in its reassurance, from each of them. The situation was the catalyst, not the cause, and while there was a half-embarrassed admission from Nina that perhaps things between them might have dragged on a bit longer before resolution without it, there was also the firm promise that whatever tomorrow held, they’d face it together.
Despite these assurances, tension in the car escalated, and they each grew quiet, almost still, as they neared their destination.
Expectation, anticipation, and even a touch of fear, twined and grew so thick between them, that it seemed palpable. It made the walk through the lobby almost silent and the elevator ride found them all avoiding both touch and even random glance.
Fran’s heart shook the way Nina’s hands did when she unlocked the door. She felt the tremor that ran through Samantha’s arm when it accidentally brushed against her back as she reached to flick the light switch.
They stared at each other solemnly in the warm glow, the color of their eyes indiscernible to one another through the flames that danced within them. Samantha smiled at her, a tiny gentle quirk of her lips as she took Nina’s hand and embraced Fran with the other arm, but it was Nina who closed the circle between them.
And then…and then it was easy, just oh so very easy.
The shake Fran felt from within moved through her when Nina leaned into Samantha and kissed her. “I love you,” she told her, voice low and deliberate. “I will always love you.” She turned her gaze on Fran, her eyes now luminous and deep blue, the silver that outlined them so clear, as clear as the emotion that poured from her touch with her words. “I have neverstopped loving you—and I won’t.” She edged closer, her lips a breath away. “And I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I should have known—should have told you before.”
Fran’s body pulsed with what her heart and mind could no longer contain or restrain. She was alive with the taste of Nina’s mouth in hers, Samantha’s whispered declaration confirmed with her lips on Fran’s neck. The bond that ran between them was open and strong, the one from her to Nina free and clear.
Naked in ways she had never been before either of them and they to her, Fran allowed her heart full reign as she embraced them both and together they lay down.
She had thought it was enough to remember, or at least had tried to make it enough, to cherish what had been the past, to let it remain there. But surrounded by the scent and sight and sound of the present, Fran knew she’d only tried to fool herself.
This moment, this very now, with Nina’s body once more melded to hers, the pulse and flow, over and under and within, while Samantha’s breath floated under her ear, cascading down her neck and shoulder only to become a kiss that heightened the hunger it satisfied…Now was all that mattered.
The kiss itself grew, traded, shared, until Fran lost all sense of difference between one lover and the other, and her body became the instrument through which they played the music of love and desire in a rhythm that made up for lost time. Then time itself erased.
Whispered words that came from the depth of each self—felt and known before even being spoken—preceded each deep touch, and the welcoming heat of even deeper embraces brought the sweet song of such profound satisfaction that Fran felt its jolt with her entire self, body and mind lifted even higher. She never knew who made it first or echoed it next. It didn’t matter—Fran herself was part of the refrain.
The days and nights of longing, of rigid restraint, were banished in a dance that called for unconditional release; it demanded a complete surrender to its rhythm and rhyme, and in that surrender, gifted them all with an absolute freedom new to each, as they remembered and relearned, renewed and rediscovered.
Fran could feel Light grow, expand, spread through her until she was made of it. Even behind closed eyes, Nina and Samantha glowed with it too, as the melody they built between them swelled.
Each note eased into the next, every empty space was filled and full. Point and counterpoint wove a harmony through a chorus that held Fran firm and hard and fast. Between the two women she loved perhaps even more than she loved herself, Fran was brought face to face with the source of that Light, her soul the witness, her body the testament as it fill
ed her, a burgeoning lift until it overflowed and she knew, she knew—
She was loved, she was loved, she was love. This was her family. She was finally home.
***
“…and that,” Ren said, “is the final offer. Ladies”—she looked over where Fran, Samantha, and Nina sat nearby at the long conference table—“we are certain?”
The question was as rehearsed as it was rhetorical, but it was necessary that it and its answer be public so that there would be no doubt. Ren was chosen to present the final proposal so that both the reality and illusion of unity were firmly upheld.
Fran, who spoke for Nina and Samantha’s part of the deal, quickly answered to the affirmative. “We are. And we would, of course, prefer to wrap this within the next twenty-four hours, before the needs of business require we all be out of country.”
Ren leaned back in her seat and impassively observed the other participants over steepled fingers. There was quick scowling over notes on pads, frantic crossings-out of eliminated terms. Quiet discussion took place among scattered pairs. “We can reconvene in an hour, so you may have the time you need to check with your various home offices,” she offered, and the hasty agreements were accompanied by the hurried push of chairs across the carpet.
The hour of time had also been pre-agreed upon between them; it permitted for a fair response to the issues, while keeping the meeting itself within acceptable time constraints. This would allow Nina, Samantha, and Ren herself time to rest before tonight’s performance. She smiled over at them. “Shall we get some coffee?”
Not more than two hours earlier, Isamu announced the prompt arrival of the triad for their private pre-meeting, and during it, Ren allowed Samantha to lead the discussion. There was, Ren observed when they all first sat down to eat and discuss, a definite change between them.
Even had Ren not witnessed both the exchange between Fran and Nina, nor the kiss at the party the night before, the change would still be evident. It was obvious to Ren in the brightness of Nina’s smile and the softness in the corners of her mouth when she looked at Fran or Samantha. Ren read it in the clarity of Samantha’s eyes, the openness of her hands that touched one, then the other. She saw it in the set of Fran’s shoulders, the way her body leaned toward one, her head angled to the other.