by Bobbi Marolt
“So you don’t know if she slept around because of her desire for a variety of women, or because you lacked something that she needed, and now you’re carrying the weight of inadequacy.”
“I wasn’t in the mood for conversation that afternoon.”
“You have an issue to resolve. Maybe you should have that conversation with Rachel.” Liz reached out with her arms. “Come here, please.” Marty slid across the sofa and into welcoming arms. When held there, everything felt perfect. She rested her head against Liz’s breast. How soft Liz was. “You know what I’m thinking about?”
“What?”
“I’m thinking about your shows, the songs you sing, the books you read.”
“I love your books. You’re a hopeless romantic.”
“You are, too. Romance is everywhere in your life. You thrive on it and you need it to feel happy.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Do you feel romantic with me? Do you want me to love you some day?”
“My best footwork in years was stopping in the bagel shop to meet you.”
“Then you need to trust us and believe in yourself. I’m not going anywhere, and we’re in no hurry.”
Marty held tighter. She was tired of dancing the chorus line. It was time to costar with Liz. Not tomorrow, not next month, but now. She sat up.
“Liz—” The door buzzer stopped her.
“I’m expecting papers from Paul. I have to get the door.” She kissed Marty’s cheek. “Hold that thought. I’ll be right back.”
Swell. Marty didn’t appreciate being pushed aside and especially during a critical moment. Paul again. He’s here today and not gone tomorrow. Let’s all go to the Bahamas, and oh, wouldn’t that be fun? No, it wouldn’t. Liz talked a pretty game, but Marty needed to take a stand, no matter the pain she felt. Liz would have her weekend on the island, but when she returned home, she wouldn’t have Marty.
She walked into the kitchen just as Liz turned away from the door. She was all smiles and held a vase shrouded in white paper that sparkled with colorful stars. She stepped closer and placed the vase in Marty’s hands.
“I wasn’t expecting anything from Paul,” Liz said. “These are for you, my star, and they’re from my heart. Sometimes a girl needs flowers.”
Marty was speechless and thankful her entrance hadn’t run off into a monologue of obscenities directed toward Dr. and Mrs. Chandler. She hated her new role of jumping to conclusions. She felt the proper thing to do next was dive out a window, but that feeling quickly subsided. Marty hadn’t received flowers from a special woman in several years, and suddenly she was the most fortunate woman alive.
“Really?” she asked tearfully. “You ordered flowers for me?”
“Of course. You’re my girl.” She reached for Marty’s finger and touched the ring. “Remember?”
Marty smiled. “Your girl.” She placed the vase on the table and tore open the paper.
Liz stood behind her and rested her chin on Marty’s shoulder. Marty anticipated a lovely and lively summer mix, or an eccentric bouquet of Q-tips, but when she removed the paper, the floral arrangement surprised her.
“They’re different than a normal bouquet, but they’re special beyond belief,” Liz said.
“They’re…lovely. This is wonderful, but the florist has only baby’s breath here. Did they make a mistake?”
“No, that’s what I ordered.”
Marty turned in Liz’s arms. She felt better when Liz’s smile and tender eyes came into view. Falling deeper into love with each minute of happiness and each moment of anxiety, Marty knew love wasn’t about the proper flowers. Love included acceptance and understanding, even when things weren’t perfect.
“Why just these flowers?” She gazed into Liz’s eyes that shined with promises of tomorrow. What she saw and felt made her heart pound. “What makes them special beyond belief?”
“Baby’s breath is a symbol of pureness and innocence.”
She heard a sentence that sounded like it ended with a comma and not a period. Liz wanted to say more, and Marty wanted to hear the missing value. “What more does baby’s breath mean?”
“Read the card.”
She shook her head. “You tell me,” she said, but Liz was slow to respond. Marty’s heart pounded with anticipation. “Please.” She held her breath.
“The flower symbolizes everlasting love. That’s what I want to give you. It’s out there and waiting for us.”
Her heart jumped rhythmically to the simple serenade. Her hands had never trembled upon hearing words of love, but now she couldn’t stop them from shaking over a hint of it. She couldn’t utter a word and Liz’s eyes reflected the alarm of a child who had just spilled a glass of milk. Liz’s exhale sounded like defeat.
“You look as though you’re about to turn away from me. Please don’t.”
Marty took a quick breath through her lips. Still, she said nothing. When tears blended into Liz’s eyelashes, Marty caught them against her fingers. “Are you sure you aren’t confusing me with the woman you watched week after week? Maybe Abby?”
Liz suddenly exuded the look of a confident woman. “No. The woman on stage would have known the proper romantic line to say. Abby said all the things I needed to hear. She was the perfect Marty, and you aren’t perfect. I’ll love the woman that isn’t so far into my fantasy that she immediately sweeps me from my feet and carries me into the bedroom without questioning my judgment. You were speechless and then you questioned me. Your hands feel like quivering jelly.”
“Like jelly.”
“Like jelly. Like my knees.”
It didn’t take a pinstripe suit to reduce Marty to a warm puddle. An honest moment worked just as well. Funny, how a timeline could curl at the edges, roll up, and explode into oblivion, once it was ignored. Not that she’d given it much attention.
They held each other gently, swayed slowly, and Marty’s sparkle flourished inside.
“You’re right,” she said. “I don’t have the perfect line, so I’ll reach right inside and grab what I’m feeling. I’ve wanted you close since the moment we met.”
“Me, too. Are we crazy?”
“Probably,” she answered and they laughed. Marty moved back and held Liz’s hands. “We’ve never had a real date, so we haven’t been conventional. Why bother now?”
Liz turned her back and leaned against her. “As a romance writer, I could fill your head with promises of the moon, the stars, and the sun, or I could sweep you away to parts unknown and turn you into my love slave.”
“That wouldn’t be slavery.”
She turned back around. “What I will promise is all of me. Head to toe, occasional endless nights, unlimited affection in my heart for you, and”—she walked her fingers upward from the center of Marty’s chest and playfully pinched her chin—“I’m sure there will be times when I’m nothing more than a bitch, but I’ll be your bitch.”
“Mostly a pretty picture,” Marty said. “This is where I insert the reality of my Rachel issues that have surfaced.”
“I’m not trying to sugar coat what we could have. She left some wounds that I’m willing to chance, but you need to help with that, too.”
“Infidelity squeezes my heart so badly that it nearly suffocates me. Most of all, I feel inadequate. I don’t know if I’ll be enough for you.”
“I understand. I also understand that you want to wake up to someone who loves you, so you have to give yourself to someone. I want to be that someone.” Liz smiled sweetly and yanked Marty against her. “Your ass is falling, but you’re far from inadequate. You’re warm and loving. You’re talented, fun, you listened to my story about old rocks and giant ice cubes, and you make a great cup of coffee. What more can I ask for?”
“For me not to say dildo?”
She poked Marty’s ribs. “Yes, for you to stop saying that word. You’re a pest, too.”
“You make me incredibly happy, when I’m not equally terrified.” She leaned over a
nd kissed her lips. “I’ll work on things.”
“I had that in mind all along. Now, don’t think I’m an angel. If I decide to write more fiction, you’ll wonder who I am and how you fit into my life.”
“I won’t settle for neglect.” She ran her fingers through Liz’s hair. “Do you think you’ll write more?”
“Maybe I’ll try my hand at writing material for a certain Martina Jamison. I hear she’s worth a dollar or two.”
Marty smiled. “At least one.”
“Okay, enough mush for now. Call Clive and get the new show rolling for us.”
Marty sat at the desk and Clive answered his phone immediately.
“Hey. It’s Marty.”
“You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said and Clive wasted no time getting down to business.
“Good. Let’s begin damage control. We need money and a costar. What are your thoughts?”
“If you can set up auditions for Friday and Saturday, I’ll handle the money.”
“What happened to Liz’s advisor? He knows who should be responsible for this mess.”
“He’s not answering her calls. All we have is us.”
“Bastard. Okay, I’ll get on auditions as soon as we hang up. I’m thinking mid-twenties, dark hair, but we’ll dye someone if we have to. Who do you have in mind for backing?”
Marty laughed. “I could do a Dillinger, although his wasn’t a favorable finale. I don’t know. I’ll find cash somewhere.”
“Okay. I’ll make calls tonight and we’ll begin auditions Friday. I’ll set it up for ten in the morning.”
“That works.” Liz walked to the phone, motioning her desire to talk to Clive. Marty got up from her chair. “We’re set then and we’ll see you tomorrow. Liz wants to talk to you.” She handed the phone over and kissed her cheek.
Thinking Liz brought home a copy of the script, she searched the room and kitchen, but came up empty-handed. “Script?” Liz pointed to the bedroom.
When she entered the room, the play was open and at the center of the bed. Marty stretched onto her stomach and let her feet dangle over the side of the bed. She grabbed the script and read changes that Liz had already inserted to accommodate two actors. A feeling of relief washed over her and she even smiled. The only thing missing was half a dozen songs.
“Like the changes?” Liz asked when she entered the room. She stretched onto her back next to Marty.
“So far, they’re fine with me.”
“Many of the lines will remain the same. We’ll just have to figure out the distribution.”
Marty dropped the play to the floor and faced Liz. “How will I fill my time while you’re gone?”
“I’m sure you’ll be too busy working to give me a single thought. I’ll have to call Nina to see what naughty things you’re doing.”
She softly taunted. “Naughty? Me?” She pushed up on all fours and playfully kneaded the blankets. Liz’s eyes softened and her chest rose quicker with each breath. Marty leaned closer. “Meow.”
Liz had a heavy dose of serious in her eyes. “You know what you’re doing to me, kitten. If you come any closer, we don’t turn back.”
Marty straddled her. She leaned down and bit into her neck. “Maybe we should stop pretending.” She pushed from the bed and further teased. “If memory serves”—she opened the front of her blouse—“I’m wearing a lovely red teddy underneath my clothes.” She fingered the top of the satin beneath the blouse. “Tsk tsk,” she said and dropped her shirt to the floor. “Such lazy girls, you and Nina.”
She pushed her pants to the floor and then kicked them aside. One strap of the teddy fell over her shoulder. She gathered her thick hair and held it near the top of her head. Marty tilted her head and slowly ran her hand along her neck, over her breast, and down her tummy until it rested on her opposite hip.
“You made that same move in Breakable Goods. Do you think I’ll let you get away with it?” Her eyes took on a defiant look of desire. “I’m not kidding. One more word and that teddy is history.” She sat up and reached for Marty.
Marty stepped away from Liz’s reach. With her hand on the other strap, she pulled it down until the top of her teddy fell to her waist. “Curls.” Liz came toward her. She took hold of Marty’s hand and slid it from her hip to between Marty’s thighs. Marty groaned when Liz pressed harder. She pulled Liz against her and moved to the rhythm of Liz’s press. “I play, I pay.”
“I play, too.” Her eyes were no less interested. Liz pressed her tongue into Marty’s mouth and an explosion of warmth blasted Marty’s thighs.
When Liz revealed her body, Marty took in all of her. Toned arms reached forward. Tan lines brightened the delicate white of her breasts. Small, dark nipples were inviting. Marty’s gaze moved further down Liz’s tummy. A thin waist led to full hips and then to a cover of dark hair. Sleek legs held fleshy thighs.
Liz slowly pulled at the sides of Marty’s teddy until it fell to the floor. Her eyes followed until she whispered a single word: “Curls.” Marty reached for Liz, but Liz stopped her and motioned toward the bed with a head jerk. “Now,” she said. Marty moved quickly to the bed. “Hands and knees.”
Marty bit her lip. She rolled to her stomach and arched slowly onto all fours. A warm hand followed the curves of her back and down along her hip. She murmured and moved with each stroke. She hung her head. A warm hand cupped and then squeezed her breast. Bites against her flesh aroused her even more. She leaned into and sometimes away from Liz’s teeth. Marty reached between her legs, but Liz stopped her.
“That’s for me.” She moved Marty’s hand away.
Tender kisses replaced the legion of bites on her back and then Liz eased Marty fully against the bed. “Why did you stop?”
Marty rolled to her side and Liz was there with a soft smile waiting. Her eyes melted Marty and it didn’t matter that Liz had ceased touching her. What mattered was Liz’s presence. She ran her fingertip down Marty’s nose and then the backs of her fingers against her cheek.
“I want you, Martina Jamison,” Liz said in a tender voice that Marty had never before heard. “I don’t want to handle you like a wrestler.” She kissed Marty. “I want the bashful babbler from Queens.”
“Why her and not my stage persona?”
“The girl from Queens takes you down from the pedestal that people have placed you on. Not that you act like a star.” She nudged her. “Usually, but you know you have that power. I want her because she brings me closer to the woman who believes in God and the same woman that babbles when she feels nervous. Those are the real things.”
Marty lay there, smiling, gazing into Liz’s eyes. Her words struck with the same power that “I love you” would wield. She wondered if Liz saw the skyrockets that shot off inside her. Did she hear the popping of champagne corks? Did pretty colors of confetti cover her, too? Could she hear the rumble of Marty’s heart mimic today’s distant thunder?
“And there you are, speechless again.”
Marty focused through the tears in her eyes. “My heart’s about to burst into a lizillion shimmering pieces.” Liz’s hand pressed against Marty’s chest. “Can you feel it?”
“I do,” she said. “Lizillion? I think you’ve honored me.”
Marty kept hold of Liz’s hand. “Most women want the woman on stage. Once they have her, they leave her in the prop room or just leave. I can’t tell you how much more deeply you’ve just touched me.”
“I’ve told you I’m playing for keeps.”
“Sometimes it’s difficult to believe.”
Liz kissed her again. “I’m all about time with you. Maybe one day you’ll trust our production and let our curtain go up all the way.”
“Semper fi,” Marty said and ran her hand over Liz’s shoulder. She scanned her breasts. Her eyes and hand followed the delicate curve of Liz’s waist. “Do you want me?”
Liz took Marty’s roving hand and placed it against her breast. “Ravenously.”
L
iz’s full weight pressed onto Marty. No longer willing to settle for delicate and refined, Liz moved quickly downward. Marty looked past her knees. No mirrored fantasy teased her. Liz was there, parting Marty’s legs. She ran her fingers along the inside of Marty’s thighs, and Marty lifted her hips against her touch. She flinched when the weight of Liz’s warm breath covered her. Marty reached forward and ran her fingers through Liz’s hair.
“Curls,” Liz said and pressed her lips lightly against Marty. “I’ve waited too long for you. Curls,” she said again and jammed her mouth against Marty.
Marty fell into ecstasy. With her own might, she moved against Liz with matched pressure. She could have come right then but Liz stopped and nuzzled her cheek into Marty.
“Beautiful, thick hair. So curly and soft. I want to stay here forever. I belong here.”
Marty pulled Liz into her arms. She kissed her welcoming lips. They rolled together, each touch more demanding than the last. Marty’s mouth dampened Liz. She suctioned her mouth against her breast and Liz pulled her tighter. Liz gave freely. Marty took everything.
“What do you want?” She moved her mouth to Liz’s hips. Painting a wet map as she moved, Marty drifted farther down. She pulled at Liz’s dark pubic hair with her lips and bit gently into her flesh.
Liz moaned loudly. “Do that again.”
Marty sank her teeth into Liz again. Before she gave final pleasure, Marty pushed to her knees. She wrapped her leg over Liz’s thigh and pressed into her.
Liz moaned and moved with the rhythm. “Oh, Marty. I feel you. You’re wet.”
Coarse hair chafed and moisture blended. Marty moved slowly, building their desire until Liz’s sounds and tightening abdomen signaled Marty to stop.
“No, you don’t,” Marty said. “This is how I’ll have you.”
She sank her tongue into the wet flesh she’d abused. She lavished Liz’s labia and clit. Motion stirred groans. Groans stirred Marty when Liz’s smooth lips slipped from her oral grasp. She welcomed the taste of her, but abandoned her own pleasure. Her tongue against Liz’s clit, Marty eased two fingers inside Liz. Slow strokes inside, slow outside, Marty watched the rhythm of Liz’s body push into orgasm.