by Heidi Lowe
"It's a dive, I know. But it's my dive," I said when our lips parted ways briefly.
She stroked my face. "I know. I'm proud of you. Don't ever think I'm not. And the truth is, nowhere would be good enough, because it's not with me."
I'd suspected as much. The studio was bottom of the barrel bad, but a multimillion-dollar mansion would also have yielded the same reaction from her.
I started working her sweater up without her permission, and she didn't stop me. She never stopped me. And right then, the setting no longer mattered to her. The only thing she cared about was this, us.
I got as far as removing her bra before she took over, took the lead. She removed my jeans first, kissed at the fabric of my panties, teasing me with the promise of her tongue.
When she finally did slide my panties off, I was already too moist for her to ignore. She glided two fingers inside me, their passage easy. She penetrated with a steady, firm movement, and started a rhythm that was slow yet charged.
The application of her tongue to my nether region while her fingers slid in and out of me, quickly brought me to delirium. My thrashing hands, my shrieks, losing my breath and barely able to breathe, was what I'd come to expect from sex with her. I always thought I was prepared for it, that I wouldn't lose myself and wail like a cat being strangled. But I crumbled every time. Her mouth and her hands were simply too skilled, too experienced for me to withstand her.
"I'm close," I cried. We hadn't been going more than five minutes. It was a warning to her more than anything.
"It's okay, you can let go, baby," she cooed.
But I didn't want to. I wanted it to go on and on until my muscles ached, until putting on my panties was too much contact for my sensitive sex. This was too soon.
I tried to hold on.
"I thought you said you were close?" she laughed against my sex.
"I...I want to hold on," came my breathless response.
"Maybe I don't want you to. Maybe I want to hear your moans fill this room and wake all your neighbors. Maybe I want them to complain about the noise until your landlord has no choice but to terminate your tenancy."
Now, you may not think words like that could ever have been sexy in a million years, and they wouldn't have...had she not been saying them against my sex, causing a crippling vibration, while kissing and licking between words.
She got her wish. I was crying and thrashing by the time the orgasm sparked through me. The whole building must have heard me climaxing that evening.
What a horrible way to go, against my will, unprepared, and with words so nasty. And just when I thought I could never be touched again, I heard and felt her laugh against my sex.
"I think you're capable of another one, don't you?"
"I can't," I groaned, still recovering from the first one. Was she trying to paralyze me or something? And yet, even though I protested, I didn't try to stop her. She would have ceased had I really wanted her to.
Instead, her tongue started a second assault on my swollen nub. I expired yet again, much more aggressively than the first time, much more everything than the first time.
She knew not to touch me until I had fully recovered. She sat up, her mouth shining with my sap. I was too totaled to kiss her straight away, even though that post-sex kiss was my favorite thing.
She laughed to herself. "I really did a number on you, didn't I? Poor baby."
"I hate you," I said with all the love in the world, my eyes still closed.
"Maybe if I did it again, that might change your mind," she said with amusement in her voice.
"No! No, I didn't mean it. I love you," I said quickly. I knew she was teasing me, trying to scare me into submission, that she didn't actually plan to go for round three so soon. She knew exactly when to stop, or when to carry on. Her intuition was actually scary when it came to my body. I'd always thought that, from our first night together, we were part of the same body, the same soul. She must have felt it too.
Eventually she kissed me, leaning over and staring at me with so much love, it was overwhelming.
"That was mean," I said.
"I couldn't help it. I'm fully prepared for your vengeance." Her smile was devilish.
"Oh, don't you worry. As soon as I've recovered, you're finished."
She chuckled, then we kissed.
The heat from our love-making had miraculously turned an otherwise cold room into a sauna. So instead of shivering while I lay naked on my front, Jean beside me on her back, my body felt wrapped in a warm blanket.
Every now and then, when we realized how long it had been since the last kiss, one of us would kiss the other.
"This place definitely grows on you," she said, staring up at the ceiling, a lazy, contented smile on her face.
I laughed. "You're just saying that because we've just had lots of sex. If we'd done it under a bridge you would have said the same thing."
"True." She kissed me, then lay back down, letting out a happy sigh. Though not literally, we were in a good place. The best place we'd been in a long time. Absent blame, anger, and secrets. Well, mostly. Her happiness mirrored my own.
"Now all I need to do is hold on to my job," I said. It was an extension of my inner thoughts, and shouldn't have come out.
"You're in danger of losing your job?" There wasn't, as I would have expected from her, any note of glee in her voice. Me losing my job would have meant I was unable to pay my rent, and thus would have no choice but to move back in with her.
"It's nothing. Just some funding issues. They'll sort it out."
She sat up on her elbows. "Lissa, if it's a money problem, I can always help out. I know how much you love that job."
I did. She'd wanted to get me a position in a gallery when we first moved; Robyn had connections and could have arranged an interview. But I'd secured the position at the shelter. Up until then I didn't even know I liked animals that much. Once I'd seen them all, I'd instantly fallen in love. Once I'd seen myself in them, there was no going back.
"You don't have to fix everything, Jean. Diane will find some more funding, don't worry."
"And you don't have to do everything by yourself. That's what girlfriends are for." She pulled me into a kiss. "That's what I'm for."
"If the situation changes, I'll let you know. All right?" I said reluctantly.
"Good." She went silent for a little while, as though contemplating something, as though calculating the effect of her forthcoming words. And then she said, "I think it's time we got you a car."
I frowned. "I can't drive."
"We'll get you some lessons, and then get the car."
"What is this about?" I regarded her smile with suspicion now.
"I would feel a lot better about you coming home alone. And you could visit more often, stay longer."
"I don't want a car," I said simply.
"Okay, a car service perhaps? Someone who'll take you to and from work, and wherever you want to go."
I shook my head in disbelief. "Like a chauffeur? Are you kidding me? Jean, I don't want any of that. I don't want to live beyond my means. Getting chauffeur-driven to work, into this neighborhood, how is that going to look?"
"But you wouldn't be living beyond your means, honey. What's mine is yours."
I reached for my clothes, pulled them on in a rage.
"Lissa," she said, placing a hand on my shoulder to stop me. I shrugged it off.
"You still don't get it."
"I do," she said desperately.
"No, you don't," I shouted. "I don't want your money. I don't want you buying me cars or paying for lessons. I don't want new furniture. If I did, I would get it myself, from my own paycheck, with my own goddamn money!"
"Okay." She threw up her hands in surrender. "I'm sorry. I never want you to struggle, that's all. I want you to know I'm here. That I'll always be here."
"I need to get to sleep." If my back to her didn't make it clear that I wanted her to leave, my tone certainly did.
/> She didn't move immediately – I could feel her gaze on me. And then she finally collected her clothes up and put them on in silence. A perfect night ruined.
"Will I see you this weekend?" she asked as she collected her keys off the counter and headed to the door. I got up to meet her, feeling bad about the way we were leaving things.
"I don't know. Sunday, maybe."
Her smile and parting kiss were melancholy. And just as she went to step outside, I grabbed her wrist to stop her, so that we could kiss properly.
"I love you," she whispered, when we finally broke away.
"I love you, too."
I could already see myself changing, evolving. The old me would have stayed mad, would have made no effort to ease the tension before letting her leave. As mad as she'd made me, I knew that her need to constantly try to help was born out of her love for me.
SEVENTEEN
My task was simple: go to Brady Creek. Find Dallas. Confront her. Walk away.
A sane and less obsessive person would have skipped the first three steps entirely, and simply walked away. I hadn't seen her in two weeks, anyway; she'd probably forgotten all about me.
But in my mind we had unfinished business. There were a couple of things I couldn't, not for lack of trying, let go of. Like, for instance, Jean's assertion that Dallas had used me as a pawn in some centuries-old werewolf/vampire feud.
I guess my need to prove Jean wrong consumed me. My whole life had been about her for so long; I didn't want to believe that this – attraction from another woman – was also about her.
I should have walked away after the first day, when I got off the bus in Brady Creek, making a brief visit before my shift started.
I should have walked away after the third attempt, having seen no sign of Dallas or her famous motorcycle.
There was still time to walk away after the fourth, after I'd spent hours, collectively, sitting around in coffee shop windows, or getting a single bottle of beer in Devil's Highway, the bar where we'd bumped into each other all those months ago. The hope was that she would patronize it again.
I'd asked around, too. A handful of people. One girl who drove a beaten up Harley and had a similar grunge look to Dallas. Even the barman who'd given me a drink after Dallas had spilled mine on me. The one who'd also warned me about her and her gang.
No one had seen her, or they didn't know her. I was wasting my time. I could have been with Jean, or painting, or doing a million more productive things than looking for a needle in a haystack.
"How are you at making martinis?" I asked the barman. It was a Saturday evening, the party crowd hadn't yet flooded in, and the place was still relatively quiet. I'd decided, on the bus ride over, that this would be my final visit, especially to this bar. I'd gotten the distinct impression that the barman had the wrong idea about my frequent visits. The last thing I needed was the attentions of a man. He'd been so nice to me, and we'd spoken each time I'd come in, that I didn't want to lead him on.
His smile was boyish. "I could make it in my sleep. You want one?"
"Sure, why not? I've always wanted to try one."
He gave me an exaggerated look of shock. "You've never tried a martini? Oh my God, have you been living in a cave?"
I laughed. "I prefer beer. It's not very classy, but I know what I'm getting with it."
"Amen to that." He whisked off to fetch something, said he would be right back.
I drummed my fingers on the counter to the tune that was playing. I thought about Jean, whom I hadn't seen in three days. It wasn't that I didn't want to see her; on the contrary, every moment we spent together was like something out of a fairytale. The lying by omission – or just outright lying – about where I was going, and who I was looking for, was the problem. I never wanted her to find out. Telling myself that once my curiosity about Dallas had been quelled I would forget about Weres, allowed me to sit in that bar with a half-clean conscience. Today would be the last day.
"I heard you've been looking for me."
I froze in my seat, held my breath for the longest time. I knew who that voice belonged to.
Dallas pulled up a stool beside me. I felt her eyes on me before I turned to look at her. Through my peripheral vision her smirk was visible.
"I knew it was you. Even before they described you to me. I thought, only a broad from Indiana would be so damn persistent. Only a broad from Indiana who's also screwing a fanger."
I glared at her. She always had that just crawled out of bed look to her hair, but today especially. And there was her trademark leather jacket, matching leather gloves, and unusual homemade necklace. When she reached for a straw, put it in her mouth and chewed on it, she looked like such a rebel. I didn't want to find any of this attractive, but I'd been sucked in.
"Don't presume to know me."
She laughed. "Did I hit a nerve?"
"I came here for one thing and one thing only. To confront you."
"Really? Confront me about what? Now I am intrigued."
I hated how cool she was. She reminded me so much of Jean in our first few encounters. How I'd tried my hardest to get a rise out of her but she'd smirked and grinned at me like I was a joke. Look where we were now, though. I must have been attracted to women who made me feel small, insignificant.
"About your little secret."
She frowned, still smiling. When the barman returned, he looked at us warily, as though afraid something was about to go down.
"I'll have what she's having," she said without being asked.
"Two martinis coming up." He continued to watch and listen to our exchange in the background while he prepared our cocktails.
"If you mean what I think you mean, then that's not a secret."
"Is that why you didn't mention it to me?"
She shrugged casually. "I didn't mention it because it's none of your business."
Though she'd claimed it wasn't a secret, I still didn't feel comfortable speaking about it so publicly. Being "other" was always looked upon in a negative light, no matter what sort of "other" a person was. I didn't know how the people around us would react to the news, if they didn't already know. I got the feeling that the barman's words of warning the other day were his way of telling me, though.
"I think it is my business, if you're hanging out with me."
"Hey, your outrage would sound a lot more justified if it wasn't coming from someone with a fanger for a girlfriend."
I was glad for the low lighting, because my burning cheeks – my shame – were hidden. Well, at least now the barman knew I didn't bat for his team.
"She's the reason you pursued me, isn't she?" I said, my tone lowered.
"Is that what she told you?" She didn't seem at all fazed by my accusation. It must have been true.
"Well, was she?"
"Don't you think I have better things to do with my time?"
"I think you like to get your kicks any way you can, and pissing off a vampire is one such way."
She said nothing, only chewed on the end of the little black straw, and regarded me with amusement until our drinks were ready. Then she reached into the pocket of her skintight black jeans – something that looked impossible to do – pulled out a twenty and handed it to the barman.
"Together?"
She said yes at the same time that I said no. But he took the money anyway, probably in the interests of staying out of whatever the fuck was going down. He walked away to serve someone else.
"I don't need you paying for my drinks. I can pay for my own drinks," I mumbled, sipping the offending martini with reluctance and disdain, as though it had betrayed me. My first martini and I couldn't even enjoy it.
"You mean with all that fanger money? I get it now, why you're here and she's back in Greenfields. You just can't get enough of that lavish lifestyle, even if you're unhappy with her."
"You don't know anything about us. We're happy. The happiest we've ever been, in fact." Despite that being true, there was some
thing in my voice, some element of uncertainty, that made my response sound disingenuous. Did I want her to think we weren't happy? If so, why?
"Does she know you're here? That you've been looking for me all week?"
"She's not my keeper. I don't have to tell her everything."
She snorted, downed her drink as though it was water, then slid the glass away. She looked at me with the most intense stare. "What are you really doing here, Liz? And cut the bullshit, all right. You didn't come all this way to ask me one stupid question. We both know you already know the answer."
"What, that you did use me to get to Jean?"
"Wow, she's really gotten into your head. Got you thinking she's the only one who could ever want you. Now you think so little of yourself that you're wary when someone else shows you an interest."
"Jean's not like that." I was sure of it... At least, I'd never seen her like that before. Could there have been truth in what Dallas was saying?
"Okay, whatever. Look, I've gotta be somewhere. So we can wrap this up...or you can come with me. It's up to you." She got up and started off.
Under no circumstances was I going to follow her. Nope, no way, not me. I hadn't yet finished my drink; I didn't know where she was going; I was pretty sure that I didn't even like this girl...
I swallowed down as much of the martini as I could and left the rest, hurrying after her like she had me on a leash. I felt powerless to stop myself.
"Where are we going?" I asked her when we reached her bike. She handed me the helmet and then put hers on.
"My friends are expecting me."
"You mean your pack?"
She laughed. "Up on the lingo, I see. Just don't call them that to their faces. It's a surefire way to piss them off."
We hopped on the motorbike and sped off into the night.
EIGHTEEN
As we crept through the woods, the leaves crunching beneath our feet, I stayed close to Dallas's side. The animal calls and unidentifiable sounds of the night, coupled with the crescent moon seemed more ominous than usual.