And Playing the Role of Herself...

by K E Lane

  I actually had been wondering that - the routine over the past few days had been a phone call around eight pm, just before Robyn went to bed. Not that I minded one in the middle of the day. "You missed me so desperately you just had to hear my voice?" I said flippantly, and then kicked myself at the resulting silence.

  "There is that," she said finally, without a hint of teasing. "But," she added in a lighter tone, "that's not the only reason I called. Do you have big plans for the weekend?"

  "Hmmm, let's see…I have some laundry to do, and I suppose I should wash my hair…oh, and sleep with Josh, I should fit that in somewhere, too…"

  "Come spend it with me."

  I sucked in a breath. "What?"

  "Spend it with me," she repeated, and then rushed on nervously. "They don't need me over the weekend, I was thinking about renting a house on the beach - something private, and quiet, and we could, you know, just spend some time together…"

  "Yes."

  She paused in her nervous rambling. "Yes?"

  "Yes. Of course, yes." I heard her soft sigh of relief, and shook my head. Had she actually thought I'd say no? Crazy woman. "When and where?"

  I could hear the smile in her voice. "I'll call tonight with details."

  "Okay."

  "Okay."

  We were quiet for several moments. "I should go…Liz is going to bust if I don't let her yell at me soon."

  She chuckled. "Best not keep her waiting, then. I'll talk to you tonight?"

  "Yeah. And Robyn?…Thanks. I'm looking forward to it."

  "Me too," she said softly, before she hung up.

  I stared at the phone for a full minute, a stupid grin plastered across my face, and didn't hear Liz until she was practically in my face.

  "Goddamit, Caid, tell me what's going on or I'll toss you in the pool for the dogs to fetch!"

  I smiled at the picture her threat conjured in my head, and waved her into her seat. "Okay."

  Her eyes narrowed and she looked at me suspiciously. "Okay what?"

  "Okay, I'll tell you. Just sit down."

  She slowly did as I asked, eyeing me warily. "That was him, wasn't it? You don't smile like that for anybody, Caid. I was right, wasn't I?"

  I tucked my cell phone in my pocket and sat down. "You were half right. Yes, that was the person I'm…involved with, but it wasn't Josh."

  She popped up out of her chair and threw up her hands. "Then who the hell is it? Damnit, the way you're keeping it a secret makes me think it's someone else you shouldn't be with…"

  "It was Robyn." I dropped the name and sat back to watch the reaction.

  She stopped and frowned as though she hadn't heard correctly. "What?"

  "Robyn. It was Robyn on the phone just now."

  "What does Robyn have to do…" she trailed off, still looking confused.

  "Remember our conversation about kissing women?"

  She nodded slowly. "You said you hadn't, but you wanted to…"

  "And now I have."

  "Oh. Oh." She sat down heavily. "Wow. Robyn?"

  "Robyn."

  "But she and Josh…" she motioned vaguely with her hand.

  "You said yourself, Liz - they know how to work the system. I won't get into particulars, but trust me when I say that what's between Robyn and I is not interfering in anything romantic between the two of them."

  "I'll be damned." She stared into space for a moment, and looked over at me. "That explains some things. And what is going on between you and Robyn, Caid? Is this…just messing around, or is it for real?"

  I shrugged. "I can only speak for myself, but for me, it's as real as it gets."

  Her eyes showed surprise at the words but she didn't reply, instead looking away across the lawn to where the dogs were laying in the sun, panting. "I'd heard things about Robyn, but always just figured it was just random gossip…"

  "You heard gossip about Robyn being gay?" I asked in surprise. Now why hadn't I heard that gossip? "I never heard anything…"

  She gave me another affectionate smile, like I was a small child who'd just told a cute, albeit stupid, joke. "Because it was gossip, Sugar, and you never pay attention to it, so no one ever tells you anything good. And it wasn't about her being gay, necessarily, just…flexible, maybe."

  "Flexible?" Well, she certainly was that, but I doubted that's what Liz was talking about.

  "Yes, flexible. Occasionally seen at a women's bar, spotted with women known to be gay, that sort of thing. But hell, the majority of industry people in this town end up in a gay bar at one time or another, and it doesn't mean anything. I guess this time it did."

  I smiled slightly. "I guess."

  We were quiet for a while, watching as the dogs began to wrestle. Eventually Liz looked over at me, her expression serious. "You're happy?"

  I didn't try to stop my smile. "Yes, I'm happy."

  She nodded. "I'm glad for you then." She smiled wickedly and leaned forward. "Now spill it - was I right? Is she a screamer?"

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  "Mile marker…" Squinting against the sinking afternoon sun, I slowed and double checked the name of the road before turning. I kept an eye on my rearview mirror after the turn, half expecting cars to follow me as they'd done all over LA the past week. No other car turned behind me and I gave a satisfied nod that the precautions Liz suggested seemed to have been enough to throw the press off, at least for the time being.

  Instead of flying out of photographer-laden LAX, I'd left my house at an ungodly hour this morning and made the four hour drive to Yuma to catch a commuter flight to Phoenix, then from Phoenix to Fort Lauderdale and onto a tiny prop plane that took me to Marathon. Connie hadn't batted an eye when I'd told her I needed to get away for a few days and asked her to arrange a car without using my name, and it had been waiting, just as she promised, in long-term parking with the keys under the floor mat. From Marathon it had been another thirty miles to this turnoff; I'd been traveling for nearly 14 hours and was more than ready for my traveling day to be over.

  "Follow for a quarter of a mile…" I muttered to myself, looking around with interest at the tall palms and shrub trees that kept the road hidden and essentially secluded from the nearby overseas highway.

  I followed Robyn's directions and turned into a small break in the foliage just before the turnaround, and the car sluggishly churned through the loose sand of a narrow lane lined with shiny-leaved brush and dwarf palms. The lane opened up into a wide, sandy driveway and I pulled my practical, mid-sized sedan up behind a bright yellow Mercedes convertible, smiling at our role reversal. If we went anywhere this weekend, Robyn was definitely driving.

  The house was white and boxy, and Robyn's little convertible was nestled in an open-air carport that took up half of the lower level. I got out of the car and stretched, looking through the carport, surprised to see how close the beach was to the house. No one came to greet me but I noticed curtains billowing through an open sliding glass door on the second floor, so I pulled my backpack and small suitcase from the trunk and climbed the stairs to the wrap-around deck on the second story, pushing up my sunglasses as I stepped through the door and looked around curiously.

  The house was clean and neat, with a small living room opening into the kitchen on one side, and a hallway that I assumed led to the bedrooms on the other. The walls were white, the tile floors gray, and the comfortable looking sofa and loveseat facing a wooden cabinet that housed a television and other electronic equipment had a subdued, floral print. The kitchen was large and connected to a screen enclosed area of the wrap around deck, and a delicious aroma of garlic and spices filled the house.

  "Robyn?" I set my bags down and listened for a response. "Hello? Anyone home?"

  My stomach grumbled and I followed the smell of food into the kitchen. A fresh loaf of French bread wrapped in paper sat on the counter, and a note was taped to the handle of the oven.

  I knew this would get your attention. I'm down on the beach - come watch the
sunset. There's beer in the fridge, bring one for me.

  R

  I smiled and shook my head. The woman had my number.

  After taking a quick peek in the oven to find a bubbling pan of lasagna with white sauce, I picked up my bags and carried them down the hall, hesitating momentarily at what was obviously the master bedroom before walking past to the next room and depositing my bags on the bed. I was dressed in faded jeans and a t-shirt - I'd always disliked wearing shorts when I flew; something about the thought of my skin against the airplane seat just made me queasy - and I quickly changed out of my traveling clothes and into shorts and a tank top.

  Back into the kitchen I snagged two short, squatty bottles of Negra Modelo from the fridge and rummaged around in the kitchen drawers for an opener that I finally found attached to the fridge door with a magnet. Laughing at myself, I plucked it from the door, pulled the caps off, and walked out onto the deck facing the ocean.

  The beach was sandy - something I'd been told was rare in the Keys - with low vegetated rises bordering the stretch below the house and making it quite secluded. 100 feet from the house, near the water, two lounge chairs were set up looking out over the ocean. One was empty and the other occupied by a familiar dark-haired figure in a wide-brimmed hat.

  A frisson of excitement and happiness ran through me at the sight of her, and I forced myself to keep a sedate pace as I walked down the stairs and out onto the beach. I came to a stop beside her chair and took a moment to just look, allowing myself the pleasure I'd missed the last time we were together.

  Her dark hair was fastened in a long braid that spilled from beneath her straw hat and over one shoulder onto her chest. She wore a white, gauzy button down shirt with the sleeves rolled above her elbow and mostly unbuttoned, showing off a black bikini top and plenty of deeply tanned skin. My eyes took it all in, from burgundy colored toenails, up long legs, over the brown sarong wrapped around her waist, along her flat belly, lingering momentarily on small, high breasts in black fabric visible through the outer shirt, and finally up to the classic lines of her face. Black, oval-framed sunglasses hid her eyes and expression, but the tip of an arched eyebrow was visible just above the rim of her glasses, and a small smile curled the corners of her mouth.

  "When you're through objectifying me, you're in my sun."

  I gave her a skeptical look. "Unless the sun suddenly started setting in the north, lady, I'm nowhere near your sun," I said mildly, but moved anyway, lowering myself into the chair beside her. "For you, Madame." I handed her a beer, which she took with a nod of thanks and a murmured "Merci."

  She seemed content to sit in silence and watch the ocean, and I was content to let her be content, so we watched the ocean and occasionally sipped at our beers as the sun sunk lower on the horizon. After several minutes she reached for my hand and brought it to her lips, kissing each knuckle and sending little sparks of pleasure shooting up my arm. She rubbed my hand against her cheek, and then rested it, palm down, on her stomach and let out a long, contented sigh.

  I smiled but let the silence continue, tracing tiny circles on the skin of her stomach with the pads of my fingers until she stilled my hand with a gentle slap. "Tickles," she said softly, and pulled my hand back up to her lips to place an open mouthed kiss on the pulse point of my wrist. I shivered, her action doing much more than tickle, and heard a low chuckle. My arm was bent at the elbow, my palm resting against her cheek; I moved my hand up to cup the back of her head and leaned over at an awkward angle to bring our mouths together in a soft, exploring kiss.

  "Hi," I whispered when I'd pulled back a few inches.

  She smiled, and raised her sunglasses onto her forehead below her hat. "Hi." The smile on her face matched the one in her eyes and I kissed her again lightly before sitting back and letting out my own contented sigh. I found her hand and laced our fingers together, and we sat in silence, holding hands, watching until the last sliver of sun sunk below the sea.

  She stirred as the sun disappeared, squeezing my hand before dropping it and pushing herself out of her chair. "Hungry? Dinner should be just about ready."

  "If you're cooking? Always. Whatever you have in the oven smelled wonderful."

  "Cajun seafood lasagna." She walked around to the other side of my chair and held out a hand to help me up. "You like spicy, right?"

  "I love spicy." She pulled me to my feet, and our faces ended up inches from each other. I gave her a friendly peck on the lips. "And I love…" I stopped myself before the words I'd been thinking tumbled out of my mouth. "…that you don't mind cooking for me."

  Whoa. Close one. Good recovery, Harris.

  Things were so relaxed, so easy between us, that my mouth was running off without my mind's permission. I'd have to watch that. I wasn't going to screw this up by scaring her away.

  She smiled. "And I love that you enjoy my cooking."

  "Hmm. Sounds like we make a good pair." We started towards the house, swinging our loosely linked hands. "Maybe we should hang out."

  We walked a few steps in silence and I caught the flash of her smile in the falling darkness. She raised my hand to her lips. "Maybe we should."

  ##

  "Tired?" Robyn asked and kissed my hair, running her fingers lightly up and down my arm. "Been a long day for you."

  "Mmm. A little, maybe." I leaned my head back to look at her. "This is nice, though."

  "Yes." She kissed my forehead. "This is very nice."

  We were sitting on the wooden porch swing in the corner of the mesh enclosed area of the deck, swinging idly back and forth and listening to the sound of the ocean and the distant murmur of the highway. I was half sitting, half reclining against her, a position we'd gradually come to over the last two hours since retiring to the swing after dinner. We drank a bottle of wine and cautiously felt each other out on topics of politics, religion, and musical tastes, and save a few glaring discrepancies in the latter, we were surprisingly in synch. I suppose, in the grand scheme of things, the fact that she still liked 80's hair bands was something I could live with, and my fondness for twangy hill country music was something she could overlook. Our conversation had wound down into sporadic comments, then to comfortable silence, and Robyn's question had been the first to break the silence in at least ten minutes.

  I stopped the fingers that were rubbing my arm, interlaced them with my own and brought the hand to my lips briefly. "I'm on LA time, though, and you're not - maybe we should get you to bed."

  I moved to get up but the arm around my shoulder tightened. "Caid?"

  I relaxed back against her and tipped my head up again to see her face. "Hmm?"

  "I noticed that you put your bags in one of the other rooms…" Her expression was uncertain.

  "I…" I didn't think this was the time to get into my insecurities about this relationship meaning more to me than it did to her, or to ask for a definition of exactly what the relationship was. Sometime before Sunday afternoon I meant to get answers to those questions, but not tonight. I sat up and brushed a hand across her cheek. "I just didn't want to assume anything."

  A look that was a mixture of annoyance and hurt flashed in her eyes, and she stared out the screened window behind me for a moment before looking back at me, smiling tightly. "Am I so hard to read?"

  "Rob…"

  She stopped me with a finger across my lips. "I think we need to have a talk, you and I, about what this is, and where this is going, but we've done enough talking for tonight. Right now, I'd like to go to bed, and I'd like very much for you to be with me when I do." She stood and pulled me up beside her, smiling slightly. "And for future reference, I think that if there's anything you can assume about all this it's that I'll always want you in my bed. But if that's not what you want..."

  "Oh no," I said quickly. "I want."

  "Come on, then." She smiled shyly - a look I'd never associated with Robyn - and took my hand. "Let's go to bed."

  At her words, I realized that for the first time, t
hat's what we'd be doing. Going to bed. Not falling or stumbling into bed as the final destination of frenzied love-making, or happening to fall asleep together as we'd done in Big Bear. This was actual washing your face, brushing your teeth and putting on your pajamas kind of going to bed. It sounded so domestic, so normal.

  It sounded wonderful.

  I smiled to myself and allowed Robyn to pull me through the house, turning off lights and locking doors as we went. When we reached the door to the master bedroom, she paused, looking slightly nervous. "Ah…the bed in here is bigger, is that okay?"

  I kissed her lightly and pushed her into the room. "It's fine - I'll be in in a minute."

  I used the second bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready for bed, and then stood in the bedroom where I'd put my suitcase, frowning at the boxers and silk tank in my hand.