by Vina Jackson
‘Nothing,’ she repeated.
A veil of anger now clouded his gaze.
‘I just don’t understand girls like you,’ he said.
‘What do you means by “girls like me”?’
‘Girls who want to be hurt. It’s not the way I was brought up. I thought that—’
‘You thought what?’ Aurelia was slipping her head through the white T-shirt’s narrow collar.
‘Bay Area girls here are often kinky. Somehow I thought that you being a Brit, you wouldn’t . . .’ He looked away.
‘I’m not kinky,’ Aurelia shouted and rushed out of the door, anger getting the better of her.
There were no cabs around and she was obliged to walk back to the ballet school cottage. It took her over an hour and a half and she ended up fighting tears all the way. She knew she was changing inside; it wasn’t just Siv’s departure or the appearance of the strange heart on her body. Something else was happening.
As she reached the corner of her street, she was seized yet again by the unsettling feeling that she was being followed. And not by Huck; she knew she would never see the young man again. She turned her head but the avenue was empty, just autumn leaves dancing in the wind. She wiped the tears from her cheek. There was no need to worry Edyta, but now that she had nearly arrived home she could not face another evening alone and worrying about her friend. She nipped inside and penned a quick note to explain her absence and left it on her bed.
Found Siv, she wrote. Staying away. Nothing to worry about. Will be in touch soon.
She wasn’t sure what it was that made her lie. Perhaps superstition; that if she put the thought in writing it might come true.
A light mist was beginning to fall and at the last moment Aurelia ran back inside and picked up a change of underwear, a fresh T-shirt and her shawl from the hook by the door and pulled it tightly around her shoulders. It was the same shawl that she had worn at the funfair, she realised, with a pang of sadness. How long ago that seemed. And where should she go now?
She wandered down to the diner and stared in the window at the booth seat where she and Siv had once shared a plate of chips and excitedly discussed the origin of her tattoo and Siv’s afternoon of nude modelling. No amount of looking through the glass would be able to bring her friend back, though, she knew that. She had to think. Where could Siv have gone?
Walter.
Instinctively, she knew that her friend had taken off with the blind sculptor. She racked her brain for the umpteenth time for any scrap of information that Siv might have mentioned that would lend a clue to her whereabouts. Siv had met him on the day that she had picked up the forms for the performing arts school, and she had mentioned that his workshop was nearby. But she couldn’t go knocking on all the nearby doors at this hour.
She flagged a passing taxi and instructed the driver to take her back to the imposing venue where the exhibition had been held. It was the only thing that she could think of. Maybe she would get lucky and find a young man on duty at the front desk who would respond to the sight of her still bare legs and give her the information that she was seeking.
The stone building did not seem nearly as imposing or as magical on her third visit. Her initial appreciation of the structure was now tempered by her feeling that the exhibition that had been held here had ultimately resulted in Siv’s disappearance. She was tempted to kick the wall in frustration, but knew that would lead her nowhere but probably leave her with a sore foot, so she contented herself with savagely ringing the buzzer on the front door over and over again.
‘For God’s sake! We’re closed. And I don’t even work here . . .’ hissed a husky female voice into the intercom.
Aurelia had long given up hope that anyone would answer and was so surprised by the response that it took her a moment to gather her thoughts. A dim memory struggled to rise to the surface in her mind.
‘Lauralynn?’ she asked.
‘Yes?’ replied the voice suspiciously.
‘Please let me in,’ Aurelia asked. ‘You worked at the exhibition. You dressed us . . . my name is Aurelia, I was here with a friend and now she’s disappeared and I need to find her urgently. I think she might be with Walter, the sculptor . . .’ The words tumbled out of her mouth haphazardly.
The door swung open.
Lauralynn stood right behind it, with a large carrier bag in each hand. She was no longer wearing latex, and her hair was tied back in a simple ponytail instead of the schoolgirl plaits that she had last been sporting, but, un-costumed, she was just as imposing. In her high heels she was taller even than Aurelia and her legs were longer than she remembered and seemed even shapelier clad in skin-tight denim. She was obviously braless and Aurelia couldn’t help but stare at her breasts, which were covered only by a thin white vest top, through which a pair of nipple rings were clearly visible.
‘You had a problem?’ Lauralynn asked. ‘Or have you forgotten what it was now? You seem rather, err, distracted.’ She grinned from ear to ear, displaying a mischievous white-toothed smile.
Aurelia flushed all the way to her roots.
‘I was at the exhibition . . .’ she stammered. ‘You lent me a dress . . .’
‘Yes, I know who you are,’ Lauralynn replied. ‘You looked great in the dress, too.’
Aurelia didn’t think it was possible to blush any more deeply than she already had, but somehow she managed it.
‘You can have it if you like,’ Lauralynn continued, glancing down at one of the carrier bags that now lay by her side. ‘You’re lucky you caught me. Only reason I’m here. Taking all the costumes and things down to our headquarters in Seattle.’ She looked at her right wrist, though she wore no watch there. ‘You’ll have to be quick, though, my flight leaves soon. I’m on my way to the airport.’
‘My friend Siv,’ Aurelia said. ‘I think she could be with Walter. Do you know how to find him? Or her?’
Lauralynn raised an eyebrow. She seemed amused by this news rather than surprised or worried, which Aurelia supposed was a good thing. At least it was evident that Lauralynn didn’t think running away with Walter was any cause for concern, so the blind sculptor probably wasn’t a psychopath.
‘Run away with Walter, eh?’ Lauralynn mused. ‘He does seem to have a knack for spotting them.’
She seemed to be talking to herself.
‘Spotting them?’ Aurelia asked. ‘Models, do you mean?’
‘Not exactly,’ Lauralynn replied. ‘But I don’t have time to explain now. I can’t take you to Walter. But I can take you to someone who probably knows where he is. You’ll have to come with me, though. Now.’
Lauralynn picked up her carrier bags and began to hurry through the door, barrelling Aurelia out of the way and waving her arm to hail a passing cab.
‘Come on then,’ she yelled pulling open the passenger door and throwing in her bags.
Aurelia leaped into the back seat a moment before the taxi sped away. This caused her skirt to ride all the way up to the tops of her thighs and she self-consciously tried to hitch it down again.
‘No need to be modest on my account,’ Lauralynn murmured. She was far more forward than any man Aurelia had ever flirted with, perhaps with the exception of the stranger, though their limited but intense exchanges could hardly be considered flirting, had in fact been virtually dialogue-free. Briefly Aurelia wondered if Lauralynn’s confidence extended to other areas and immediately she felt a familiar pulse throb.
She had never been with a woman before, nor considered such a possibility with any seriousness. Until now. Aurelia spent the rest of the journey with her mind in a tangle caught halfway between worry for Siv, satisfaction that she finally had a lead and the mental picture of Lauralynn’s breasts squeezed into her T-shirt and the metal loops that so clearly decorated her permanently hard nipples.
Occasionally her mind would drift back to her tattoo and thoughts of the stranger and the memories and fantasies that he always elicited in her. She was certain that so
mehow the mysterious Walter and Siv’s disappearance had something to do with him, and he was the one that she truly longed for. But it had been so long now without a word from him. She could not spend her life waiting for a man that she had not even seen.
The cab crossed the bridge, driving back to Oakland but before it could reach her suburb, it took a sharp turn and Aurelia found herself disembarking at Oakland airport. Lauralynn swiftly took charge and purchased a ticket for Aurelia. She protested, insisted on paying, but Lauralynn just waved her proffered credit card away.
It was raining in Seattle, and nearly midnight by the time they arrived. Aurelia was freezing cold and bone weary as they picked up Lauralynn’s car, a small Honda Civic, from the Tacoma International car park. She didn’t pay any attention to anything at all as they journeyed along dark, wet highways besides remembering the hypnotic sway of Lauralynn’s hips and arse and marvelling at the way she could seemingly stride along forever in her stiletto heels without exhibiting a moment’s pause or pain in her feet.
‘We’re here,’ Lauralynn whispered breathily against her ear. Aurelia lifted her head. She had fallen asleep on Lauralynn’s shoulder as the blonde had been driving. Lauralynn laid a warm hand on her thigh to gently rouse her. Aurelia felt her heart thudding in her chest. ‘Not far to go now. I called Tristan and told him to put the kettle on. He makes the best hot chocolate. Soon you’ll be warm all the way to your bones.’
Lauralynn and Tristan were sharing a hotel suite, yet they didn’t appear to be lovers. Aurelia watched the two of them busying themselves in the small kitchen and mini-bar area. Domesticity clearly did not come naturally to either of them. Lauralynn had still not removed her high heels, and even in her casual T-shirt and jeans it seemed clear that she was more used to being waited upon than doing the waiting.
As she watched Lauralynn inexpertly tear open a sachet of sugar and spill it over the carpet, she had the distinct impression that this was not Lauralynn’s usual style. She was being wooed. Tristan was far too good-looking to be at home in a kitchen. He was tall and tanned and muscled and moved with a slow languor that suggested he would be more at home lying back on a cushioned litter with slaves attending to his every whim.
‘So you two work together?’ Aurelia asked. She was eager to get to news of Siv in case she fell asleep and Tristan disappeared before she could quiz him.
‘Not exactly,’ Tristan said as he passed her a tiny espresso cup and saucer filled with an aromatic, deep-brown liquid.
Aurelia took a sip. It was chocolate, hot and thick with a touch of spice. Immediately she felt her chill lift and a soothing sensation filled her all the way to her toes and her fingertips. ‘But this is . . . I think I have had this before,’ she said.
‘Everyone’s had hot chocolate before,’ Lauralynn interjected, sliding into the spare seat alongside Aurelia before Tristan had a chance to. ‘Though he does make rather a special brew, I’ll give him that.’
Aurelia took another long, hard look at Tristan. Could he be the stranger? The man that she had desired for so long? She didn’t think so. He was attractive, beautiful even. But it was an unsettling sort of attraction: something physical welling up inside her. Something in her brain was warning her about an unquiet darkness surrounding him. But at the same time, that darkness beckoned to her, as if it was part of something greater, something he was part of. No, he was not the man she had given in to and gifted herself to, had willingly been taken by. Surely she would recognise ‘him’ somehow, even from a distance, would be able to feel the presence of the man who had stirred such strong passions within her that night and in so many of her waking fantasies since.
‘Do you know where Siv is?’ she asked him outright.
‘I know where Walter is,’ Tristan replied. ‘Or at least, I know where he will be, two nights from now. And if your friend is with him as you believe, then she will be there too and I can help you find her.’
‘What do you mean, she will be there? Where?’ Aurelia grumbled. She was growing tired of all this secrecy.
‘A very special party,’ Lauralynn said. ‘The Ball. It’s our highlight of the year.’
‘Our highlight of the year? Who is “Our”?’
‘Probably best that you get some sleep before we tell you all about it,’ Lauralynn soothed.
Aurelia’s cup was taken away from her. She murmured her thanks to Tristan for the drink, but he had gone back to the mini-bar and she was alone with Lauralynn on the couch. The warm hand that had rested so gently on her thigh in the back of the taxi cab was pressing against her skin harder now and she shivered as Lauralynn’s nails pressed against her skin, right at the seam of her knickers.
‘I should take a shower . . .’ Aurelia said sleepily, remembering that although it already felt like a lifetime ago, she was still wearing the same clothes that she had put back on again after her brief encounter with the Tom Sawyer look-alike from the university library.
‘You can share mine,’ Lauralynn replied, and then Aurelia felt the velvety softness of Lauralynn’s mouth against her own and the flicker of a warm, wet tongue delving gently between her lips.
Lauralynn pulled her to her feet into the nearest bedroom. The last thing that Aurelia saw before the door was shut firmly behind them was Tristan’s eyes boring into her own. Did she see a flicker of anger pass over his face? Or was it simply disappointment?
7
The Island of Doctor Wells
‘It’s a very exclusive party,’ Tristan had said, ‘but I believe your friend might be found there. I hear many circus folk and guys and gals from the arty crowd will be attending. Quite an event. It only comes round once a year and always somewhere different. And I mean really different. I went to one that was held in some underground caves and half the entertainers were dressed as bats and seemed to be flying. You won’t ever attend a more incredible party.’
‘You’ll love it,’ Lauralynn assured her, as they sipped their coffees in the sheltered courtyard of the hotel where she was staying off Pike Place Market.
It was the best coffee Aurelia had tasted since she had arrived in America. Warm, pungent, velvety, it spread across her throat as it travelled down, both soothing her senses and making them sharper. She took every sip as slowly as she could, to savour the taste better. Now she knew why Seattle was considered the coffee city of America.
Lauralynn winked at her.
‘Nice?’
‘Delicious.’
Tristan was looking intently at both of them and Aurelia wondered how much he knew, how close he was to Lauralynn. From the studied shape of his enigmatic smile, she guessed he knew everything. Aurelia blushed. She was anything but ashamed at having slept with Lauralynn; it had been an incredible experience. But she felt unsure about this undeniably attractive man being able to picture the way she had surrendered to pleasure in the arms of a woman.
His dark-green eyes alighted on her and she imagined him savouring the vision of their intertwined limbs. She drew a long breath. Even the way that he moved was hypnotic, and whenever she was in his presence she felt as though he was drawing her closer to him as if they were magnetised. He was difficult to read, though, and Aurelia was not convinced that she could trust him enough to let her guard down entirely. She would settle for admiring his physique from arm’s length, at least for the moment.
‘It’s strictly by invitation only,’ Tristan said. ‘But I am allowed to bring guests. However, the location must remain a secret and you will have to accept wearing something over your eyes for the crossing,’ he continued. ‘just for an hour or so,’ he added.
‘An island?’ Aurelia asked.
‘An island, yes,’ Tristan confirmed.
Aurelia was aware there were hundreds of islands in Puget Sound, so it would literally be a venture into the dark. Could she trust Tristan?
The others’ eyes were on her, as if they were both conspirators and she was the outsider.
‘I’m willing to go,’ Aurelia said.<
br />
Arrangements were made for the following evening and Tristan left them.
Sitting alone with Lauralynn, Aurelia realised with a sense of panic she had nothing to wear for the Ball, having travelled to Seattle with just a change of T-shirt and underwear.
‘Don’t worry,’ Lauralynn assured her, a playful tone in her voice. ‘Come back to my room. I’d certainly enjoy undressing you again and then we can even try some of my stuff on you. It’ll be fine. We’re almost the same height and as for size, did you know I’m a whizz with a needle and thread?’
Once they had boarded the ferry, a group of men in dark-blue sailor suits – Tristan among them – circulated amongst the guests and proceeded to restrict their vision, one by one, by blindfolding them with exquisitely soft silk night masks. Each mask was embroidered in silver thread with a symbol Aurelia was unable to recognise.
Lauralynn’s sight had not been impaired, leading Aurelia to the conclusion that she officially held an invitation to the mysterious event and was actually in cahoots with Tristan, took her by the hand and led her below deck. A sharp, bitter breeze was rising from the west, zigzagging its way through the jigsaw puzzles of islands littering the Sound, and freezing Aurelia to the bones under the flimsy gown that Lauralynn had altered to suit her: a mess of multicoloured chiffon that tied at her waist and a V-neck around her neck, barely covering her breasts and leaving her back and all the way to her belly button completely naked. When she spun, or if the fabric caught in the breeze, then the loose, full skirt flew up in all directions like a parachute, as if it that had been the designer’s intention, and Aurelia guessed that it probably had. Lauralynn had dressed to outrank Tristan, in skintight latex captain’s regalia complete with gold stripes on her sleeves and a blue and white hat that sat high on her head and made her just a few inches taller than he was. Aurelia had struggled to hide her amusement when she noticed Tristan’s sulky response to Lauralynn’s choice of attire. Lauralynn had caught her eye and winked, well aware that she had ruffled Tristan’s sartorial feathers.