by Dawn Carter
Spencer smiled when she faced him. “It’s not perfume. It’s lilacs. I soak them in water, then splash myself with it.”
“That’s interesting, how long have you been doing that?”
“Oh gosh, since I was a kid. I used to pick all of the petals from my mother’s garden and bathe in them.”
Terry stopped walking and rubbed his chin. “You just gave me an interesting thought. Princesses and queens wore perfumes made from flowers. They cooked and soaked them in oil to produce liquid perfumes to smell good. I’m wonder if they bathed in the petals? It’s something worth looking further into.”
Spencer stopped dead in her tracks, and shook her head. It was then that it occurred to her that, since her childhood, she had mimicked several things from her past life. The signs were always there, but she hadn’t taken notice. Shrugging, she waved her hand in the air. “Another thing to add to my many mysteries.”
In unison, they both filled the room with laughter.
●●●
Terry wouldn’t admit it to Spencer, but he enjoyed their sessions. He was not only getting paid for what he loved doing, and he did need the money, but his customer had become more than a paycheck. She intrigued him, and had removed all doubts about his degree plan.
As the clock struck 11 P.M., the sound of the buzzing halted. Adorned on Spencer’s feet were gold-laced sandals. Terry stepped back to admire his work, the vision Spencer had had was coming into focus. “How do you feel?”
In a quick motion, Spencer stood and spun around. “I’m good, a little sore around my ankles, but you said that would happen.”
“Yes, and don’t forget, you cannot soak in a bath for ten days. We don’t want the ink coming out.”
“Got you. When do you want to start on the neck piece?”
“I have finals in a week, so I need to study. Can I call you with a date?” He could see the disappointment in her eyes as she looked down and her bottom lip pouted.
She sighed. “Sure.”
Half smiling, Terry knew she was eager to finish her vision, and he was sure she didn’t understand how long it would take. “I need you to sit back down.” Terry took the time to clean the remaining stained ink from her skin, and wrapped each of her feet in cellophane. “Don’t look so disappointed, Spencer, we’ll get it done.”
Later, he sat in the dark, looking over the pictures he’d taken of his recent work. A broad smile spread across his lips. This was his best work ever. He saw the world as it was—a beautiful array of colors and shapes, ideas and formulas, voids and space, love and fear. It was all a canvas that left just enough space for everyone to paint their own story, their own lives, in the whites of the world. Some painted outside the canvas onto walls if they dared, and others painted in a smaller area that was provided for them.. That was what he did; he painted history upon skin. He was a true artist, one who saw the world for how it was supposed to be seen, with an open heart, mind, body and soul. He judged no one and nothing. It was all the same to him, parts of life that were each equal and necessary. The art of the world.
●●●
It took several minutes before she finally looked back up at Terry.
“I know, it’s just, when I talk to you, I finally feel as if I belong to something.” That was the first time she had admitted to anyone that she had never felt as if she was a part of her life. She was nothing like her family, and her entire upbringing she had questioned if they were her real parents. If it were not for her grandmother confirming the day she was born and the hours of labor Spencer had put her daughter through, she would have sworn she was adopted.
Grinning, his eyes sparkled in the dim light as he scribbled on a piece of paper. “Call me if you need to talk.”
Spencer took the paper and held it next to her heart. She was grateful for his friendship.
She usually felt good when she left his shop, but tonight, her heart was heavy. The memories of the different dreams lingered. She could still feel Anai’s touch. In this life, she’d never experienced anything so tender and loving. It made sense now, why she could not have a fulfilling relationship with anyone. As much as she wanted to, there was always something holding her back.
Like a bright light glowing in her mind, were the possibilities that there was more to her story than she knew. Anai could have also been reincarnated. The once hopeless feeling was gone. She knew there were always two sides to a coin, and if she was looking for Anai, Anai could also be looking for her.
For the first time in years, Spencer had a purpose. The only thing she would need to do is get the time off from work so she could follow her past, and she prayed it would lead her to her future.
●●●
Dear Diary,
It’s been a long day. Mom and Dad stopped by and took me out for dinner. Of course, there was an ulterior motive. Dad asked me to run the office next week while they go see my aunt in Florida. Oh, joy! I hate putting up with my dad’s assistant, Peter. He gets on my gay nerves.
I don’t know why they just didn’t ask me earlier. I think mom was worried about me, and used it as an excuse. Still, I was glad they came by, since it made it easier than trying to pin them down later. I told them I was going to travel abroad. My dad was not happy when I told him I was planning on going to the Middle East. He ranted about how it wasn’t safe, and it was not worth me risking my life. Mom, on the other hand, was thrilled when I said I was going to Cairo to teach.
So I lied, but how do I tell them I’m going there to find the other half of my heart? They don’t even know I’m gay.
Dad went on and on about how he was hoping I’d take over the company once he retired. It’s not going to happen. I told him that. I don’t want to run it. I want to live my own life. Mom waited until he went to the restroom, and told me to follow my heart. She hated seeing me unhappy, trying to live Dad’s dream. I love her so much.
I need to see about putting feelers out there soon, to find someone who I wouldn’t mind subleasing to. I can easily do a six-month lease with the option to extend it. I can always store my stuff in my parents’ garage or downstairs. The storage units are pretty big, but I’m not sure how secure they are. I’d hate to come back and find all my stuff gone.
I’ll figure it out. I’m exhausted. Off for the night, I have my last session with Terry tomorrow. I’m excited and sad. I’m going to miss him. More later.
●●●
Time stood still around her as the dark-haired woman walked past. In that moment, Spencer felt as if they were the only two in the room. The bronze-toned, dark-haired woman locked eyes with her, smiled, and continued to move through the crowd. Spencer spun around. She was surrounded by a sea of people, churning, twisting to the music emanating from the stage in front of her. She looked around in vain, hoping to see her prey somewhere in the crowd, but to no avail. She was lost in the faceless mass of people. Their grinning and bobbing heads reminded Spencer of the cheap plastic Hawaiian girl on her dad's car dashboard that constantly jiggled its head. Thousands of flailing limbs came together all at once, and the sound of clapping and whistling filled the room as the band finished their song.
Spencer bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, the soles of her heels in the air as she looked through the crowd. Just then, the band started playing the next song. The crowd jostled for positions on the already cramped dance floor. I feel like a sardine in a tin can. Spencer struggled to regain her footing, hopping from one foot to another as the mass of people moved in at once.
It was then she felt the presence again. Eyes watching her every movement, like a cat watching its prey—the intense gaze boring holes into the back of her skull as she moved in time to the tide of the crowd. It was enthralling and disturbing at the same time. Where is she? Spencer turned around, hoping to find the woman in the pool of thousands of faces, but all she could see was blank visages staring back at her, mouthing wordlessly in time with the singer on stage.
Spencer turned back around, chastis
ing herself for not acting sooner—she could have reached out her hand, touched her arm, asked her name. The woman might have slapped and scolded her for invading her personal space, but anything was better than not knowing. As the song ended, she could still feel the presence. The stranger was somewhere in the crowd, and it strangely aroused her. She had never felt this type of intense feeling—her skin tingled, and each nerve ending came alive.
From behind, a girl ground against her, entering her personal space. Spencer’s lip curled up in disdain as the girl continued. Pulling away, she eyed the girl moving in time to the music as sexily as anyone could on the crowded dance floor. Instantly aroused, Spencer’s palms began to sweat. No, no, no…this is not going to happen. Where is she? Removing her gaze from the temptress, Spencer casually looked around the many faces. She could still feel the presence of her quarry—she was closer now. Spencer imagined the woman being a voyeur, always watching but never game enough to make a move, the true temptress—the untouchable. Like a lion stalking its prey, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. You can strike anytime, Spencer inwardly laughed.
“I’ve been watching you all night.” The seductive words burned her ears. Hot breath burned her cheek, the domineering presence overwhelming her senses. When she tried to turn and face the huntress, hands covered her eyes. Before Spencer could fully turn around, the mysterious woman whispered seductively into her ear again. “Some things are best left to the imagination.”
The husky voice rumbled in her head, setting loose butterflies in her stomach. She felt the woman grind slowly against her, as delicate arms encircled her waist to draw her closer. Spencer gasped; her heart fluttered as she tried to keep up with the turmoil of emotions surging through her body. She was grateful they were buried in the middle of a crowd of men and women dancing around them, oblivious to anything except for what was happening on the stage.
Spencer breathed in ragged gasps as the unknown woman continued to grind her pelvis, the two of them connected by invisible strings controlled by some sadistic puppeteer above. Each movement sent shivers of pleasure through her, eroding any rational thought she had left. Her logic was cast aside as increasing levels of arousal overtook everything else, and she ground back against the heat pressed against her. She moaned as soft hands ran up the length of her frame, revealing her desires to the faceless crowd introverted in their own fantasies. Closing her eyes, she swayed to the beat of the music, heat emanating from her loins as hands ran up beneath her shirt, caressing her skin. She flushed in embarrassment as delicate fingers rubbed against her erect nipples, her wetness escaping from between her lips, past her saturated underwear, and down her hot, bare thigh.
Spencer’s mouth parted and low whimpers escaped from her lips as the stranger’s hand slid into her jeans and between the thin material separating her from the outside world. Long, slender fingers delicately explored the flesh that lay beneath. Spencer groaned as her hips bucked against the inquisitive fingers. Needing to touch her, she snaked her hand behind her to the woman and stroked the length of her torso. She gasped when a tongue moved along her neck. Leaning her head back and turning her head to the side, she parted her lips and granted the feathery tongue entrance. She felt as if she was going to explode as a lone finger continued to twist to its own rhythm within her.
The two lovers continued to dance their dance of seduction, oblivious to the world around them. Spencer could feel the orgasm build; she was within her own world. Reaching behind her, putting space between her and the woman’s groin. Spencer unzipped the fly of the denim jeans, eagerly slipping her hand down into the moist, satin folds, and gently moving her fingers over the erect, hard clit. In her mind, she could see the image behind her closed lids. The stranger immediately understood what was to transpire as she picked up the pace, stroking against the hard knob. Unable to hold back, Spencer cried out in ecstasy as the woman continued to ravage her relentlessly with savage intensity. Spencer could do nothing but whimper in pleasure as fingers slid in and out, her knees going weak. She gasped once more, when she felt the other hand slide across and tease the already erect nipple between warm fingers.
There was no stopping the building orgasm. Spencer was lost in her lover’s touch, and she could tell by the way the stranger responded, she was also close. She cried out as the explosion tore throughout her, just as the band on stage finished their final song—the crowd and stranger roaring in unison, each for their own reasons. A charge of pleasure released deep within, triggering off a chain reaction of orgasms, overwhelming her in waves of ecstasy.
Beep…Beep…Beep. The sound penetrated the euphoria, pulling Spencer from her dream. Sensations still burned and poured from within her. With a moan, she let the orgasm continue into her woken state. She was alone in the bed, but she bucked and twisted, allowing the imaginary woman to seduce the flow from her.
“Wow, what the hell.” She sat up, still flushed. “That’s never happened to me before. But hey, I wouldn’t mind waking up like that every day.” The memory took her breath away. Spencer looked around the room and smiled. Her body was relaxed but, at the same time, she felt rejuvenated. Nice way to start my day. She lay back, tucking an arm under her head, and tried to remember the woman’s face.
Dear Diary,
The strangest thing happened; I dreamed and, for once, it was not the same dream. I didn’t see the woman really well, but I know it was her. She was dressed like everyone else. We were having sex in a crowd of people, and when I woke up, I was still coming…
Spencer wrote each and every detail into her diary. She wrote as fast as she could, trying not to forget a single thing. It was more important to capture all of the little details than to record her daily thoughts. She wanted to make sure she didn’t forget anything. There had to be a message she had missed, a glimpse of what was to come. Why else would her dreams change?
Chapter 6
Masked by dark sunglasses, Natalie followed from a distance. After weeks of solitude, it occurred to her that maybe there was more to Spencer’s story. She needed answers; there was no going back, but if she was to move on, she needed closure.
From the dark doorway across the street, she watched Spencer go into the tattoo parlor. This was the third time within a month. Tired of being in the dark, she brushed her blond hair behind her ears, rushed across the street, and peeked in the window. In the chair, obscured by the artist, Spencer sat, her head extended backward as he worked feverishly around her neck and chest.
Natalie huffed and stepped back. She’d been sure there was another woman. That would help cushion the blow of being rejected. She’d seen all she needed to; so Spencer hadn’t cheated on her. It didn’t make it easier; she had given Spencer two years of her life. However, if she was being honest, she was grateful for their time together. Spencer had saved her from the future of a loveless marriage, and opened her world to new possibilities.
A single tear ran down her cheek as she placed her hand on the window and whispered, “I hope you find what you’re looking for.” She turned and ran off, but halfway down the block, a stream of tears stained her cheeks. Midway down, she stopped; as much as she didn’t want to know, she was curious.
Natalie returned to her spot. Gathering courage, she quickly ran across the road, stepped into the shop, and looked around. Spencer was still in the chair, her back to Natalie. She did not say anything; instead, she took the liberty of looking at the fresh pictures on the glass. They were current instant photos of the tattoos Spencer had gotten, arms and both feet. Natalie couldn’t see what the artist was doing to her now, but the work already done baffled her.
What are you doing? Before now, you said you would never mark your body, and now you have four tats, possibly more. The questions running through her mind made her wonder if she had ever really known Spencer at all. Natalie found men hard to understand, so when she’d met Spencer, she’d thought for once, she would be with someone she understood and who understood her.
It seem
ed like a lifetime ago to her now. She had just finished her senior year in college when she’d met Spencer and was instantly attracted. Her situation had not been easy. She had a boyfriend who had just proposed to her, and she’d said yes. That same night, in the restaurant, across the room, Spencer and four other women had sat at the bar, laughing. There was something about her, something that pulled Natalie in. As the night drew on, Natalie had excused herself when Spencer had headed to the ladies’ room. She had followed close behind, and within moments, they were standing side by side at the sink, washing their hands.
The towel dispenser closest to Spencer had been empty, and she had asked Natalie if she could pass her a few. Natalie had smiled, and introduced herself as she handed over the paper towels. Fifteen minutes later, they had both stepped from the bathroom, laughing. Before Natalie walked off, Spencer had reached out, touched her hand, and slid a business card into it.
Inwardly smiling, Natalie recalled the seductive tone in Spencer’s voice when she’d said, “call me sometime.” Natalie had had to think for a moment before answering, and when she’d found her voice, Spencer was already seated back with her friends.
The first few months of their relationship had been like nothing she had ever experienced. The first time they had made love, Natalie had thought she’d died and gone to heaven. All good things come to an end, she reminded herself. As she had predicted, Spencer got bored with her, and began breaking dates. She had found out afterward that it had had nothing to do with her. It was the dreams. Spencer’s life had been turned upside down by the mysterious woman who haunted her nights.
Even though Spencer had explained what was going on, Natalie had felt as if there was something wrong with her. She knew it drove Spencer crazy when she pushed for her to stop talking about the dream, and she knew the harder she pushed, the farther Spencer would pull away. No matter what she did, she was on the losing end of the situation. Spencer had stopped being affectionate. They’d not made love in a long time, and when she tried, Spencer complained she was tired. Natalie had tried to understand, but there was no rational reason for Spencer to constantly hurt her feelings. So what if she kept dreaming of some strange woman. It wasn’t as if she was real, but Spencer talked about her like she was. It got to the point that the dream was all she talked about when they were together. One by one, all their plans were canceled, and she stopped asking Natalie to spend the night. When she would say she was staying, Spencer would remind her she was tired.