by D. L. King
The water flows over us, less a baptism than a rain-storm, bringing relief but not clarity. I reach my hand out to trace her hair back behind one ear, wanting to feel its silky length while I still have the chance. It’s longer now than I’ve ever seen it before, though there are still no earrings in her ears, nor the empty holes that would indicate a secondary absence. She turns to face me, one eye flashing me a mischievous wink, and then she presses me up against the shower wall, lips whispering and teeth nipping down the side of my neck as I nearly dissolve in pleasure. When we step, dripping, onto the tile floor, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and see a crimson mark on my throat that would be visible from a mile away. I don’t know how I’ll be able to explain this one at work tomorrow, but right now I can’t think past the elation of her touch.
She dries herself quickly, shaking water out of each ear. We dress in silence. As I push the last button of my shirt through its hole, she approaches, holding my tie, and I let her tie it around my throat. I want to say something, anything, everything, but my mind is oversaturated, the thoughts too densely packed to allow the linear structure of a sentence to take shape. She expertly knots the silky fabric, giving me a tug and smirk to show she’s finished with it.
We walk outside into the fading afternoon, and I am instantly and profoundly disoriented, as if I’m leaving the theater after an early movie, shocked to find that out here there is still daylight. The sky looks dusty and orange, the imposing geometry of skyscrapers silhouetted in the distance. Trash blows and scuffs in the gutters.
I turn toward her. Start to speak, trying to find at least a few words to leave her with, to express how much this meant, but my lips and brain are still useless. She tilts her head, surveying me casually. Slowly, she raises one hand and then abruptly slaps me hard once more, full across the face. The moment her fingers make contact, I come again, light and electricity exploding across the hand-shaped echoes she has left all over my skin. I stumble back against a wall, my body flashing like a silent neon sign, a private fireworks finale, the climax entirely invisible to the people walking past, intent on their own journeys.
It takes me half a minute to emerge from the fog of shock and arousal to find that she has left me there alone on the sidewalk. I gape after her retreating form, and she turns her head slightly, flashing me a Cheshire cat smile, before continuing on her way.
ALOHA À TROIS
Kathleen Tudor
I might love my job, but I was still out the door at 5:03 p.m., my blazeróo tucked over my arm to let the sun kiss my shoulders. It had been three weeks since I’d moved to Hawaii, and my routine was beginning to settle. I’d drive home, change into something more suited to the island, and head straight back out again, sometimes to jog in the wet sand and cool breezes, and other days with a book in hand to find a corner of paradise in which to lose myself. Today was different, though. I drove home and changed as usual, but where I would normally walk to one of the closest beaches, this time I drove across town to park at a familiar resort. I took a deep breath of salty air, turned my face to the warmth of the evening sun, and then started for the sand, angling away from the resort and toward a quieter stretch. Around a bend, a group of local surfers had set up camp, some lounging and chatting while others charged the waves.
It didn’t take me long to spot her among them. Anani: the Polynesian goddess who’d spent ten sun-kissed, perfect days healing my broken heart before releasing me back to real life.
I’d never really gone back, though. Or at least, a part of me had remained on the island, pinned to Hawaii by the beauty, the peace, and the gentle touch of a woman with a big heart and love to spare.
I settled in easily, sitting straight in the sand and watching the surfers bob with the gentle swells, waiting for their ride. One of the men joined me a minute later. “Hey, you new around here?” His grin was welcoming, and I smiled back.
“Sort of. I’ve been here before . . . I was one of Anani’s lost kittens once upon a time.” That’s what her friends called us—the women, fragile or needy or sad, who Anani gathered to herself, comforted, and released.
“Oh.” His expression hadn’t exactly become cold, but it was suddenly guarded.
“Don’t worry,” I told him. “I don’t expect anything. I just want to see.” What exactly I wanted to see was open to interpretation. See her? See if I could persuade her to be mine? See if I’d remained trapped in a corner of her heart the way she had been in mine? “Just see.”
He shrugged, granted me a small smile, and took off for the water, scooping up his board on the way. I lay back, relaxing into the sunshine like a hot bath, and let the sound of the surf lull me into a doze.
Some time passed before I heard a familiar voice. “You look more relaxed this time.”
When I opened my eyes, the sun burned behind Anani like a halo, and I grinned at the image. “Much more,” I agreed, sitting up. “But you look just the same.”
Anani laughed and sat beside me. “Couldn’t stay away?”
“Not at all. From Hawaii or from you, I guess. I hope that’s okay.”
She took my hand, and even though she was still wet from the sea, her hand was warm in mine. “I told you before that I’m no good at relationships, sweet girl, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have today.”
“Today’s a good start.”
“Where are you staying?” she asked, her voice as thick and sweet as warm honey.
“I’ll drive you.”
She loaded her board into her friend’s truck, pulled a loose dress on over her bathing suit, and followed me to the resort’s parking lot. “I’m Rachel, by the way. I know you make a lot of friends.”
“I remember,” she said, but with the mischief behind her smile, I couldn’t tell if it was true or not. It didn’t matter.
I parked the car and we met in front of the hood, our hands coming together like they belonged entwined as I led her toward the concrete steps up to my apartment. She stepped in once I’d unlocked the door, and her eyebrows rose at the sight of boxes half unpacked.
“This isn’t some Air BnB place, is it.” Not quite a question.
“All mine,” I replied, wondering what she’d make of it. “It’s still a bit of a mess out here, but the bedroom is all finished.”
She grinned. “Well, let’s go see, then.” She pulled the dress off on her way, and I followed, my heart starting to pound at the sight of her beautiful surfer’s body. She turned the corner to step into my bedroom and I pulled my own dress off and tossed it aside as I went to meet her.
Anani had shed her top in the seconds she’d been out of sight, and she stood turning in the center of my bedroom, her small, firm breasts inviting my caress. “It’s lovely,” she said.
“You’re lovely.” Maybe even more than I had remembered. I stepped forward, one hand lifting to cup her breast as I pulled her against me with the other. I wished in that moment that I’d paused to take off my own bra, but as her salty-sweet kiss burned through my veins, I knew I couldn’t have waited another moment to taste her.
She moaned into my kiss and her body swayed into mine like the palm trees outside, stroked by the wind. Her nipple beaded hard under my touch and I teased my palm across it gently before rolling it between my fingers to make her gasp. It also made her throw her head back, so I took advantage of my access to the dark, salty column of her neck, kissing my way from her jawline to the hollow of her throat. She reached around me to unclasp my bra as I journeyed down her skin, and I sighed when the bra fell away and the weight of my breasts hung free, soon caught up in her eager hands.
It was my turn to gasp and moan as Anani kneaded my breasts with a touch that alternated between firm and gentle, making heat rise in my belly. “Come to bed.” I skimmed out of my panties as I stepped back and she shimmied out of her bikini bottom before eagerly pressing her body over mine. Her skin was warm against mine, soft, but not delicate. She was lithe muscle all over, and I ran my hands over her firm ski
n, sighing as her muscles contracted beneath my palms.
She kissed me, this time taking charge. It was like that first burst of Hawaiian afternoon after a day in the sterile air-conditioning of the office. Refreshing. Invigorating. With warmth that spreads all through your body . . .
Anani shifted so that her thigh pressed against the slick heat of my pussy and I groaned and arched into the contact. Somewhere deep inside, I felt like I had been waiting ages for just this moment, and now that it was here, it was perfect. She was perfect. She moved against me, as rhythmic and inevitable as the crashing waves, and a tide rose within me, sweeping me away. I reached between us to seek her center and found her wet folds slippery and hungry for my touch. When I found the pearl of her clit she moaned, but her rhythm didn’t change. She ground against me, driving me crazy. I gasped and writhed beneath her, a soft keening caught in my throat, and I let it wash me away.
Anani soon followed, her cries high and sweet as she came. I held myself still as she rubbed gently against my fingers, slowly bringing herself down.
“That was beautiful,” she said as she eased herself down beside me.
“Do you want more?” It was a loaded question, and one she evaded.
“What I want is a nap!”
I laughed, but with her tucked warmly against my side, sleep was soon irresistible. And so we dozed.
We woke at nearly nine, both of us starving and a little bemused at having slept so long. “Is it too late for me to take you to dinner?” I asked.
“Not if we go now,” she said with a playful shrug. “And if you let me borrow some clothes!”
We were tucked into a local restaurant twenty minutes later. A part of me wanted to avoid the hard discussions, but they would still be there haunting me if I tried to ignore them. “We should talk about what it means. Me living here.”
Anani scrunched up her face like a recalcitrant child, but what she said was only, “I told you once that I’m no good at relationships.”
I wondered if she remembered because I’d made an impression on her, or because it was something she said to all of the little lost kittens she adopted on her beach-combing excursions. “All relationships? Or just monogamous ones?” There it was. The thing I had spent a year pondering, exploring, accepting, and even enjoying.
Anani blinked, and when her pause had extended long enough, she was granted further amnesty by the arrival of our entrees. I waited as she picked at her pork and rice, determined not to rush this. Rush her.
She surprised me by answering with, “Did you move here for me?” I could barely hear her over the live music playing at the other side of the restaurant; I couldn’t read her tone.
I thought for a moment, wanting to give my most honest answer. “I thought about you a lot,” I began, chewing the tip of my thumb instead of my meal. “You . . . inspired me. But you didn’t drive me here. I’d like to try to find a way we could be happy together, but if that’s not going to work, I hope we can at least be friends.”
She stole one of my sweet potato fries. “Friends with benefits?”
“Polyamory can be like that,” I agreed casually. It was hard to be so outwardly relaxed when my heart was fluttering, but I didn’t want to pressure her. “Why shouldn’t we try?”
She spent the next week treating me like one of her vacation girls, lavishing me with attention in the evenings and making love to me until we were both limp with satisfaction. When her texts and invitations started to feel more rote than enthusiastic, I went to meet her at her beach.
“Go,” I said, kissing her lightly and pushing her away. “Go hide away from me for a while, or find a lost kitten to heal. Take the space you need.”
“You don’t mean that,” she said, sighing in concert with the waves.
“I mean it. I’m going home. Don’t call me until you’re really ready.” I stepped closer again, just long enough to press her in a warm, brief hug. Then I smiled, turned my back, and walked away.
Anani called me three days later. “I met a woman,” she said.
“Will you tell me about her?”
“She’s a stunning black woman—her skin is even darker than mine. And she’s a lawyer. She’s getting a divorce and she came here to celebrate—and maybe to mourn.”
I laughed. “I bet you made her vacation memorable.”
Anani hesitated. “I think so.” Another pause, longer. “I hope I did.”
“You always do. You made my breakup feel like a beginning instead of an end. Hell, you turned it into a beginning.”
“You’re really not angry, are you?” she asked, and her voice was still so cautious that my heart caught.
“No, sweetheart,” I said, lowering my voice. “I want you to enjoy making your lawyer-divorcee purr.”
There was only a short pause this time, and then, “She goes home in two days. Can I see you? After?”
“Of course.”
Anani had tested her bonds and found them pleasantly flexible. She spent most of the night after her lawyer went home making her pleasure very, very evident.
Soon we had a pattern: we would have a very normal week or two as a couple, and then Anani’s attention would fade and she would ghost away, sometimes for as much as a week. When her temporary lovers flew home, she would find me, and the passion she unleashed would often leave me dazed and bleary at work the next day—not that I was complaining.
One afternoon my phone buzzed just as I was walking out of work. It had only been three days since I’d last spent time with her, but sometimes it was just that fast. Can I see you tonight?
I smiled at my phone as I walked to the car. I’ll be reading in the courtyard. Come over.
To my surprise, she didn’t show up alone. I was curled in a lounge chair in the inner courtyard of my apartment complex when Anani ushered a bronzed beauty in. The other woman had short, dark curls and her skin practically glowed, though I couldn’t tell if it was sun-kissed or naturally tan.
“Rachel, this is Chloe,” she said, and the breath-taking woman—Chloe—smiled brightly and put out a hand. I quickly dropped the marker into my book to take it, and was surprised when Chloe held on, stepping closer.
“I don’t mean to presume,” she said, and though her grip was loose enough that I could have pulled away, I didn’t. “Anani told me about your arrangement, and I told her that I’d really like to meet you.”
“To make sure everything is above board?” I’d met some in the poly community who were fastidious about checking in person, but I already knew deep down that that wasn’t why she was here.
Chloe shifted, smiling. “Because Anani makes you sound so . . . delightful.”
Anani moved toward me, stilling Chloe with a glance, and drew me a little distance away. “It’s okay if you say no. We probably shouldn’t have just showed up this way, I know . . . I think you’ll like her, though.” She grinned and turned so that only I could see the wink she shared with me. “And it’s not fair that I get to have all the fun, now is it?”
I glanced back over at Chloe, who had picked up my book and was casually studying the back cover. She was pretty cute. Her dark hair curled gently down to her shoulder blades, and it fell to partially curtain her face as she gave us our moment of privacy. “Okay.” It was all I needed to say. Anani squeezed my arm and we moved back together to meet her. “Would you like to come upstairs?”
Chloe smiled and handed me my book. “I’d love to.”
She wasn’t shy. Just a couple steps inside the door, she turned and stepped in front of me, forcing me to a stop. And then, with slow deliberation, she reached for my face and drew me gently into a kiss.
She tasted like lip gloss with just a hint of rum, and I smiled into our kiss, wondering where Anani had picked her up. But her steady, sweet pressure soon pushed distractions from my mind as her lips worked over mine, stoking low heat deep within me.
I’d almost forgotten that Anani was watching, but she didn’t let herself be left out of the fun
. She pressed herself against my back, her fingers teasing against my breasts as she slowly undid the buttons of my blouse. She must have been teasing at Chloe, too, because the other woman gasped and let out a low thrum of satisfaction as our kiss grew deeper and hotter.
Anani finished with my buttons and pulled my bra free, then moved to Chloe, whose dress left her easy prey. She threw back her head as Anani bent and began to gather the hem of her dress, and I took the opportunity to kiss the hollow of her throat, tracing the lines of her neck with the tip of my tongue. She gasped, and then the fabric was between us, hiding her briefly from my view as Anani pulled it over her head and tossed it aside.
She’d already skimmed out of her own dress when she was hidden behind me, so Anani stepped in, pulling Chloe against herself and kissing her deeply. I set my book aside as I stepped out of my shoes and the pencil skirt I’d worn to the office that day. Then I shrugged and did away with the underwear, too.
They were beautiful together. Chloe’s powerful arms and trim legs made me wonder if she was also an athlete. She was a good match for Anani, whose naturally brown skin was contoured and muscular from the hours she spent on the waves. Even with her underwear on, I could see now that Chloe was naturally lighter, but she’d spent enough hours in the sun that her skin glowed as warmly as the gold Star of David that dangled tantalizingly above her cleavage.
I wasn’t sure what she might expect from me, but Anani I could read like one of my stories. She was hungry for touch, and her hands roamed feverishly across Chloe’s body as they fused close, little gasps and moans the only thing between them.
I moved behind Anani and slid one hand into her panties, cupping one of her small, firm breasts with the other. She moaned without breaking the kiss, and I hummed my own pleasure as my fingers slid through the welcoming slickness of her pussy. Her juices coated my fingers as I slid them up to find her clit, and she practically vibrated beneath my touch as I began working her toward her breaking point, quick and merciless. My other hand moved in a gentle caress, fondling the familiar curve of her breast, and also brushing curiously over Chloe’s soft flesh and the satiny gloss of her bra.