by Kim Baldwin
She slowly pulled back a step and retrieved her top, slipped it over her head, and allowed a final lingering study of Isabel’s perfect nudity before she spoke. “Probably time you dressed and got started ticking off stops on that itinerary of yours,” she said gently. “I have some things to do to prepare for our shoot here.”
Isabel looked at her with heavy-lidded eyes, so lost in the aftermath of her orgasm it clearly took her a few seconds to realize what Kash had said. Then her face registered confusion and a hint of disappointment.
“Oh. Sure. Of course.” She reached for her clothes, quickly dressed, and waited by the door for several beats as though hoping Kash would embrace her, kiss her, or in some way acknowledge what had just happened.
When Kash stood her ground, unflinching, Isabel gave her a half smile and put her hand on the doorknob. “I’ll…I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
Soon, only her lingering fragrance remained, and Kash was surprisingly unsatisfied and empty.
Chapter Eight
“Stop! I demand a break for espresso or something,” Gillian groused. “My feet are killing me, I have to pee, and my stomach has been growling for the last hour, at least.”
“Okay, already.” Isabel glanced down at the map in her hands to orient herself. She had kept them to a strict schedule all day, first to the Spanish Steps, then the Roman Forum and the Pantheon. She still couldn’t quite believe what had happened the day before with Kash, so she kept them constantly on the move, too preoccupied to spend much time trying to make sense of it. Her sexual encounter with Kash had left her breathless, but also in a semistate of shock. It hadn’t gone at all as she imagined.
The way that Kash had taken her, for that was what it felt like—without any discussion or foreplay, without the kind of gentle interaction she was accustomed to—and without the reciprocity that usually marked her sexual encounters—all of it had surprised her, especially her own reaction.
Do you want to analyze this, or do you want to fuck?
The entire experience had been so unbelievably exciting that merely remembering it sent her into a mild state of arousal. Kash stirred her up and made her feel more in those few minutes than any woman she could remember. Including women she’d known well, women she thought she might be in love with. But even as the experience had thrilled her, it had left her wanting, as though they had unfinished business.
But she apparently doesn’t share that thought. Her dismissal of me couldn’t have been clearer.
“Izzy? Earth to Izzy! You going to stare at that map all day or make a decision?” Gillian’s words shook her out of her reverie. “Is everything okay with you? You’ve been awfully quiet. Ever since you went to talk to Kash, as a matter of fact. Did something happen?”
Is that ever an understatement. “Everything’s fine, Gill. No worries.” It was rare for her not to confide in Gillian. Normally neither of them hesitated to discuss other women they were interested in. But she wanted to keep what had happened with Kash to herself. At least for now. Until she could put it in perspective somehow. Right now it was too fresh, too raw. “Should be a toilet somewhere. We’ll stop at the first place that seems promising.”
“Buon pomeriggio, signori. May I help take you somewhere?” The offer, in heavily accented English, came from one of two young Italian men who seemed to materialize out of nowhere.
All day, whenever they stopped to study a map or appeared uncertain about their surroundings, some handsome, swarthy stud or two would appear, charming and gracious, and offer assistance and sometimes more—dinner, drinks, a guide for the afternoon. Gillian’s miniskirt got a lot of attention, as did Isabel’s long blond hair and fair complexion.
They learned fairly quickly to firmly decline the offers if they expected to keep to Isabel’s schedule, for many of their would-be good Samaritans were more than a little persistent.
“Thank you, no,” Isabel responded politely.
“We’re fine. But thanks,” Gillian chimed in.
“Prego. Come desideri.” One of the men sighed dramatically before they took the hint and departed.
“Damn shame that Italian women aren’t as anxious to introduce themselves as the men are,” Gillian said wistfully. “I’ve seen some absolutely breathtaking women.”
“This is true,” Isabel agreed. But still nothing to compare to the one we came with.
They came upon a pleasant café where they could sit outdoors and people watch. Over espresso and biscotti, Isabel studied her list. “I wish I didn’t have to do this makeover thing. It sure eats up a lot of hours that we could use seeing the city.”
“Did she tell you? Kash is going to do shoots at the Colosseum and Trevi Fountain,” Gillian informed her. “I tried to grill her about what’s ahead when we were out to dinner.”
“No, we didn’t talk about that.” We hardly talked at all. Isabel ordered a couple of bottled waters they could take with them. Once they sat down, she realized how hard she had driven them. Her legs and back ached their appreciation. All to keep from thinking too hard about Kash. Not that she’s very far from my thoughts no matter what I do. “Did she tell you anything else about what’s coming up?”
“Nope. I did good to get that out of her. She’s pretty tight-lipped.”
Don’t talk about Kash’s lips, Isabel wanted to say. I don’t need any encouragement to start obsessing over them. She’d wanted so much for Kash to kiss her, the way they had almost kissed in the hallway—she still wanted her to—and wondered why it hadn’t happened. She kissed that actress. But with me…She’d never known that sex could feel so intimate and impersonal at the same time. It was a confusing mix.
“The women here sure know how to dress. Have you noticed?” Gillian asked. “Even more so than in Paris. I mean, like her—the babe in the red skirt? Very hot—that look is only now hitting the States.” Picking another chic native out of the crowd with a tip of her head, she continued, “And that one, the whole package—the jewelry, the shoes. And there—the redhead.” The latest reference was to a buxom beauty meticulously put together, from makeup and hair to the three-inch designer heels she wore with practiced ease. “Very stylish.”
“You’re a far better judge than I am,” Isabel said. “Beautiful, I can absolutely agree with. But you know I have no clue what’s new in fashion.”
“I wonder what kind of clothes they’ll give you for your makeover wardrobe. Since you’re getting it here, I bet it’ll be Versace, or Dolce and Gabbana. Maybe a Fendi purse and some Ferragamo or Sergio Rossi shoes. Oh! Maybe Armani. Wouldn’t that be the bomb?”
“Yes, Gill.” Isabel patted Gillian’s shoulder reassuringly. “You can borrow whatever and whomever, whenever you like.”
Gillian laughed. “I’m kind of glad you’re not into clothes the way I am. Leaves more for me to choose from.”
“Okay, enough of a break. Still got a lot to see.” Isabel glanced down at her itinerary as she got to her feet.
Gillian reluctantly followed suit. “Yes, Drill Sergeant Sterling,” she said, saluting. “Don’t suppose we can fit in a club tonight?”
Isabel considered her answer. She knew Gillian would be happiest spending another night out drinking and dancing, but that prospect held little appeal. Her mind kept returning to Kash, despite her best efforts to distract it elsewhere. You’re obsessing over her. If given the choices among an evening with Gill, seeing the sights of Rome alone, or more time with Kash? It wasn’t hard to decide. Maybe Kash would reject her, maybe not. But Isa the wild child wanted to return to her suite and see if she and Kash could finish what they had started, and she would apparently not be denied.
“I know you want to go out tonight,” she said. “But I’m not really in the mood. Why don’t we hit another stop or two and then head back to the hotel. You can change, and I’ll see if maybe Kash is up for showing me a bit of Rome at night.”
Gillian nodded with a sly smile on her face. “Sounds like a great idea. For both of us. I ap
prove of this new being-more-spontaneous Isabel, by the way, hon. You wear it well.”
Isabel punched her lightly on the shoulder. “Well, I have to admit, you’ve opened my eyes to some new possibilities.”
*
Kash spent much of the day scouting locations with Massimo. He was the perfect assistant, even if his driving kept her heart in her throat as they wove in and out of traffic—he, cursing loudly in Italian and missing every obstacle or impediment by centimeters. They checked out several possible locations and finalized arrangements for her photo shoot.
She was recognized nearly everywhere, and Massimo did an admirable job keeping people from getting too close. But one of his best qualities was his sensitivity to her mood. He obviously realized as soon as he picked her up that she was preoccupied, so he avoided idle chatter, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
And those thoughts were almost exclusively about Isabel.
She knew that her celebrity status had spoiled her. She could usually have whatever she wanted immediately, be it a new Jaguar or a pretty face and sexy body.
And rationally, she knew how easy it was to develop an obsession for what she could only want, but never have. The tantalizing allure of forbidden fruit. Some of the e-mail she had received from fans and admirers was testament to that kind of fixation.
She’d thought for a time that this dynamic was responsible for Isabel’s allure. That she’d developed this desire for her because Isabel didn’t, at first, appear to be available.
But if that had been the case, she should now be over that fascination. She’d had her. And in the past, fucking a woman had always been the way to exorcise her from her thoughts. Not this time.
Screwing Isabel had only made her more desirable. Now she absolutely couldn’t get her out of her mind. She was surprised as well by how quickly and easily she had discarded what had become for her a well-established boundary in regard to sex. She had shed her shirt and embraced Isabel, allowing and relishing the contact of their naked bodies.
Most distressing of all, she had been wondering all day about what Isabel had thought of their encounter. You shouldn’t have dismissed her like that. Not her. Her preoccupation—No, not preoccupation. It’s worry, for Christ’s sake. I’m worried about whether she’s okay with what happened. What have you done to me? This isn’t like me at all.
She felt so off-center that she decided to opt for a quiet evening back in her suite, with a room-service meal and a book to distract her. But the concierge presented her with another option as she strolled through the lobby en route to the elevators.
The message he handed her was from Isabel. It was simple and to the point.
I’d like to see you tonight. I’m in my suite if you’re interested.
Isabel
She slipped the note into her pocket as she continued toward the elevators, considering whether to accept the invitation. A part of her wanted to run in the opposite direction. But she suppressed the urge with little effort. She needed to figure out why this woman was different, more compelling than most, and also perhaps remedy how coldly abrupt she’d been. After all, they were going to be spending another couple of weeks together—so she headed to Isabel’s room.
Chapter Nine
When Kash knocked, Isabel’s perfectly imperfect smile greeted her, and she felt uncharacteristically awkward. No, not exactly awkward—shy? me?—about the way Isabel was undressing her with that piercing gaze.
“Hi, Kash. Come on in. I was hoping you’d take me up on my invitation.” Isabel stepped aside to let her pass, but kept staring at her with that same hungry expectancy that had started things up between them the previous afternoon.
It made her feel off balance. Too much so. Like they were on Isabel’s turf now, and she was setting the agenda. The loss of control bothered her. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. She stepped over the threshold but stopped once inside. “I wanted to see if you were okay,” she lied. “I have other plans. I can’t stay long.”
“Oh. I see.” Isabel frowned, and that spark of eager anticipation in her eyes vanished.
Kash felt like a heel, but refrained from soothing the damage.
“Yes, Kash. I’m fine. I have to admit, I was kind of hoping we might…well, I guess…pick up where we left off yesterday.”
Usually when women wanted more from her, more than she could give them, she simply said no. She never explained or justified her actions. But for some reason, she wanted Isabel to understand. “Isabel, we didn’t ‘leave off.’ You got what you wanted. And so did I. And that’s all I wanted.”
Isabel studied her with an unreadable expression for a very long while before she replied. “Okay, I think I get it. You don’t like to be touched, correct?”
“No. Not there.”
Isabel cocked her head, seeming surprised. “Ever?”
“No.”
Another long silence between them. “Do you ever touch the same woman more than once?” Isabel asked.
Kash never answered such personal questions because whatever she said inevitably ended up in print somewhere. But she took a leap of faith with Isabel. “Yes. Sometimes. If it’s fun and uncomplicated.”
“So…what?”
Isabel had been clearly irritated with Kash only moments before. But now she seemed mostly curious.
“Touching me wasn’t…fun? Or uncomplicated? Which?”
Kash flashed back to how it had felt to make Isabel come. “Fun” wasn’t the word for it. “Amazing” might do, but she could never admit that to Isabel. “The latter. Listen, you wanted it, and you got it. It was fun. End of story. Why keep pushing? Is one more evening that important to you?”
Isabel’s eyes grew moist as she considered her answer. “Yes,” she said softly. “I guess it is.”
Most women readily accepted what Kash said when she told them it was a one-time thing. If they asked for more, usually they hadn’t yet gotten what they really wanted from her. But she didn’t feel that was the case this time.
She wasn’t certain which she feared most: that Isabel would turn out to be like the others after all, or that she would be the rare woman who might be interested in her…with no ulterior motive. The real her, too, the messed-up one, not the celebrity one. The one who felt ill equipped for any kind of authentic relationship. “What’s this really about? What do you want from me?”
“Only what you’re willing to give, Kash,” Isabel said. “If you have boundaries, I’ll respect them. I want more time with you, that’s all. Is that so unexpected?”
“Why, Isabel?” Kash repeated.
Isabel went to sit on the couch a few feet away, and in a while she said simply, “I’m drawn to you. I want to be around you while I can be, because when I am…I’m totally and completely happy. You know? Savoring the here and now, not existing for that somewhere-down-the-road time that I usually spend all my energy fretting about and planning for.”
Kash had heard nearly every conceivable story, flirtation, and phony come-on line possible. She could smell one coming long before it actually materialized. This time in her gut she felt certain that these were the words of a sensitive, caring woman.
“I know your affairs are fleeting,” Isabel continued. “I’m not asking for more than is possible. I simply enjoy your company and want to know you better, Kash. I want more time with you, as much as you will give me, because I want to remember you long after we go our separate ways.”
“Isabel, I have lots of…issues. Personal issues. I do sex, not getting-to-know-you, like you do. I’m not that type of woman.” God, it’s getting hot in here.
“Can I ask why?”
Again, she sensed only naïve curiosity from Isabel, not the probing query of a woman who might be seeking information to sell.
It was so hard for her to trust anyone. Miranda had earned a good measure during her steadfast friendship of many years—for putting up with her moods and occasional bursts of thoughtless or inappropriate behavior.
After knowing Isabel only a few days, Kash wanted to trust her. Some instinct told her that she could.
“No easy answer to that.” Kash slumped back against the door, her legs suddenly rubbery. She had long managed to avoid too much self-examination, but lately she had been more introspective than usual.
“I’m not close to many people.” Talk about understatement. “Because people usually try to get to know me because they want something from me.”
“I can imagine how celebrity would make for a rather cautious individual,” Isabel observed. “Especially if personal things you’ve shared with someone end up in a magazine article.”
“Yeah,” Kash replied wryly. “That’s happened a time or two.”
“I realize you haven’t known me very long, Kash,” Isabel said. “But I wish you could believe I would never reveal anything private you might share with me.”
Kash regarded her thoughtfully. “I don’t think you would, Isabel.” Why do I want to tell you things? Confide in you in a way that is so completely foreign to me I’m not sure how to start?
She stuck her hands in her pockets because they were starting to shake.
“I’m a bit of a control freak,” she began. A bit? Miranda would say I’m an Olympic gold medalist in that regard. “I need that sense of control when I’m with someone sexually.”
Isabel regarded her with an unflinching expression. “That wouldn’t be an issue with me, Kash. Like I said, I have no problem respecting any boundaries you might have. Or with letting you…call the shots.”
Isabel’s consent to whatever Kash might desire made it even more difficult for her not to summarily discard any further contact between them. She wants this, even though she knows what it means. Or what she thinks it means, anyway. But she doesn’t know the whole story.
“There’ve been a couple of women who have…well, who’ve meant something to me. Who got close to me.” She was astounded to realize she had known Christine Shaw more than half her life ago. “The first was my college roommate, freshman year. Chris was beautiful, and fearless, and impossibly easy to tell all my secrets to. She was the first girl I ever felt attracted to, and I finally told her, right before spring break, even though I knew she was straight.”