by Fiona Zedde
“I never figured you for a bookstore-owning type.”
“What did you think I was? A stripper?”
Dez choked on her laughter. “Not exactly. I never thought of you doing much of anything beyond having lunches with beautiful women and entertaining strangers for the weekend.”
“A society honey?”
“If you want to call it that, sure. Those hands of yours don’t look like they do much work. They look like mine.”
Victoria made a show of examining Dez’s hands. Finally, she said, “If you look closer you’ll see six years’ worth of paper cuts and staple puncture wounds,” she said. “Before that I was a full-time student. I had to quit the school game after they gave me my Ph.D.”
Dez was intrigued. Dr. Jackson. She vaguely remembered Victoria saying something about a doctorate before. “How old are you, anyway?”
“Older than you, I bet.”
“Come on, stop playing games and answer my question.”
“I guess you’re the only one allowed to play, huh?”
“We can play together anytime you want, Victoria.” Dez poured raw seduction into her voice.
“Thirty-six.”
“Seriously?” She raked Victoria with her gaze.
“The women in my family age very well.” It was Victoria’s turn to raise her glass.
“And what about your parents?” Dez asked.
“Both alive and happy.” Victoria traced the rim of her glass with an index finger, smiling. “They’re in Toronto still running the antique business they started before they had me.”
“You’re very lucky,” Dez said.
“Yes, I am.” Victoria murmured. “So are you. Both your parents are still alive. Cherish the fact that your mother is here now and still able to tell you that she loves you.”
“All that, huh?”
“Yeah. All that. I lost my brother while I was in college. I know.”
She squeezed Victoria’s hand, felt the empathy well up inside her, but said nothing. Anything she said would seem trite and ridiculous. In the face of that real loss, her situation was nothing. Dez squeezed her hand again, then pulled back to reach for her wine.
Dez had never made any effort to get to know someone outside her established circle of friends without the eventual goal of getting them into bed. Had never wanted to. But she wanted more than that with Victoria. That much was obvious by now. She didn’t know if she’d have let herself pursue the woman without that being true. Derrick would never forgive Dez if she treated his best friend like all the others. But she had no experience with this, didn’t even know how to proceed.
Victoria called her name. “Tell me about your aunt,” she said.
“Really?” Dez cocked an eyebrow at Victoria. The other woman nodded, seemingly giving permission for the old memories of her favorite and only aunt to bubble up, warm and bittersweet. Dez smiled. “There’s not much to tell, actually. She was a lot like me. Or, more accurately, I’m a lot like her. She didn’t have to work. Her father was some kind of a doo-wop singer back in the day, and he had a couple of hit songs that they always play on certain stations and at certain times of the year. Although she was his love child, she was also his only child. After he died, she started getting royalty checks from his music. Because her lifestyle was pretty modest, she invested most of the money. Her only luxuries were women, her bike, and good food.”
“Yeah,” Victoria chuckled. “She sounds a lot like you, all right.”
“Except I have a few more essential wants than she did.”
“I can imagine.” She met Dez’s eyes across the small table.
Her look said that she imagined all sorts of things where her dining companion was concerned; things that she wasn’t quite ready to share yet. Victoria cleared her throat. “Would you like dessert?”
They left that evening, packing up the remains of their weekend in silence. Dez would have liked to put her mind on the next day, on the possibility of finding her father in town and protecting herself and her mother against him, but her preoccupation with Victoria wouldn’t let her. On the drive back to Miami, she asked the question that had been burning her tongue for hours.
“If all I had to offer you was sex, would you take it?” Victoria looked at her. “Is that all you have?”
Dez shook her head. “I’m not sure, but I don’t want to commit to something and end up breaking you when I can’t do it. And I don’t make promises when I’m not one hundred percent sure.” She briefly met Victoria’s eyes. “What I am sure of is that I want you. You know that. When we talked you said you don’t want to ruin your relationship with Derrick. Fair enough. But what if you just experiment? Try me on for size, so to speak. And if it turns out that you only want me for sex, then we can get that out of our systems and no one would even have to know about it. Once that’s done, you can go on being Derrick’s friend. No harm, no foul, everyone gets satisfied.” Dez grinned wolfishly.
“Are you joking?”
“Why would I be? I never joke about something this serious.”
“Sex?” Victoria’s tone was incredulous.
“Yes.”
“Have I ever told you what a bad woman you are?”
“Yes. And you can keep on telling me.” Dez’s voice dropped to a deep rumble. “All night. For as long as you want.” She turned back to the road. “Think about it. I can get you off however you need, whenever you need it. No complications.”
Chapter 16
“I had fun this weekend.” Victoria turned around with her duffel in hand. She moved it behind her and it made a noise as it scraped against the door. She dropped it on the step and moved toward Dez. “Thank you.”
“Anytime. I enjoyed your company very much.” Dez brushed her fingertips across the other woman’s cheek. “Let’s . . . get together again. Soon.”
“Yes.” The air from that simple word brushed Dez’s lips as they came closer to Victoria’s. They hovered then, at no sign of resistance, made contact.
Christ! Wetness flooded down, coating her swollen pussy lips. And all I did was kiss her. She felt Victoria’s hands on the back of her shirt, pressing into, then under the cotton. They both trembled.
“Can I come in?” The heat in Victoria’s mouth and hands made Dez feel feverish. And horny as hell.
“No.”
She used her tongue to try and make her case, licking at the full lips before diving in again to taste every corner of her mouth. Then her hips came into play, pushing and gliding against Victoria’s, even holding her against the door and promising a taste of something she’d never had before. But what she had really wanted all day long was to know the shape of that ass, to feel it move under her palms, to squeeze its firmness. And she did so now.
“Fuck,” a voice breathed.
Who said that? It didn’t matter. They both wanted it. But they also knew what was on the line if Victoria let Dez in.
“You have to go.” Victoria pulled away. Her mouth was wet and slightly swollen. “I’ll call you later.” She stumbled inside and closed the door in Dez’s face.
Dez stood outside the house, burning. There were so many things she could have done, would have done, if so much wasn’t at stake. She leaned her forehead against the door.
“Victoria?” Her voice was hoarse.
She felt her through the door, a faint conflicted presence. “Tonight, I’m going to be thinking about you.” Her fingers curled against the wood. She fought the urge to say something else, to tell Victoria how good she could make it, how she would come for hours, how Dez would fill her up, make her scream with pleasure—if only she’d open the door. She swallowed. “Call me soon.”
Dez felt restless. Pent up. On the drive home, images of Victoria, sweating and hot, pressed against her own front door arching her wet pussy for Dez’s mouth, tormented her. It was dark. There were high bushes to shield the yard from the eyes of passersby. No one would see. And even if someone could see, so what? Victoria had been s
o close to giving in. So close. Dez felt like she’d wanted this woman forever. This waiting shit was for celibates and fools. She pressed her hand against her aching clit through her jeans and groaned.
As she was pulling into her driveway, the cell phone rang.
“Your father just got in tonight,” Claudia said after Dez’s hello. “He wants to have drinks with all of us tomorrow.”
Shit. “Fantastic. Tell him I can’t make it.”
“Darling, please. Derrick will be there. You should, too.”
Not fair. Not fair at all. “All right. I’ll come. Where is it?” She parked the truck in the garage and turned off the engine.
“Their suite at the downtown Hilton. Seven o’clock. Call the hotel to get the room number. I can’t remember it right now.”
Claudia probably barely remembered her own name right now. All because of that asshole ex-husband of hers. “I’ll be there.”
“Thank you.” She heard a smile in her mother’s voice. “I owe you one.”
“You owe me several, but who’s counting? See you tomorrow.” She closed the phone and tucked it in her pocket.
The next day came much too quickly. So did the night. She rode up in the mirrored elevator at the Hilton, sneaking occasional peeks at her reflection. If she didn’t know better she’d say that she looked nervous with her tight mouth and darting eyes that couldn’t stay on any one thing for long. Fuck him for doing this to me. With a deep breath, Dez forced herself to calm down. She consciously relaxed her shoulders, loosening everything inside her—except her bowels—before looking back in the mirror. This was better. She looked arrogant and cocksure again, her preferred façade whenever she was out in the world. Besides, it was the one that got her the most pussy. And speaking of which . . . a woman two bodies away was also giving her reflection the eye. Reflexively, Dez winked. The woman, peach-colored and pretty in a farm girl kind of way, blushed and looked away. A bell signaled the fifteenth floor.
In honor of the occasion, Dez had worn black, appropriately funereal slacks, a button-down shirt, and her favorite leather jacket. As she got off the elevator, she felt the woman’s gaze on her ass. She strutted down the hall to give the farmer’s daughter an eyeful. It wasn’t until she was halfway down the hall that she realized that she was going the wrong way. At least the elevator doors had already closed. Dez doubled back to find the right room. Warrick came to the door when she knocked.
It was easy to forget that it had been almost five years since they’d seen each other. That time had been good to him. If anything, he looked more prosperous and more handsome than the last time. A few more flecks of gray dotted his thick hair, only adding to the already “distinguished” look. His smile was wide and white and the body beneath the charcoal gray suit looked trim. The lawyering business must be good out in California.
“Desiree. Look at you!”
And look at you, you smug asshole. Dez served him up one of her own bullshit smiles and stepped inside the suite. “How’s it going?”
Warrick seemed taken aback by her casual greeting. She didn’t know why. It wasn’t like they were long-lost friends or anything.
“I’m doing well,” he said. “Come on in. You’re the last to arrive.”
Good. She shrugged off her jacket and hung it on the coat rack by the door.
“So how are things in your life, Desiree?” He closed the door and adjusted the drape of her jacket on the rack. The tiniest sneer in his voice betrayed that he had his assumptions about Dez’s life and didn’t care to hear her version of things.
“Same as always, Papa. Real good.” She bowed, a mocking tilt of her head that she knew reminded her father of Aunt Paul.
Warrick had never liked her aunt and liked her even less when Dez had turned out to be a dyke, too. As a child, Dez had gotten used to his offhand, and often unkind, remarks about Paul. They were easy to ignore because Paulette had given less than a piece of rat shit what he thought. But she never thought that one day his cruel remarks and disgusted looks would be directed at her. Dez learned the hard way.
She came out during her arrogant phase. Even when she knew that her father couldn’t deal with what he scornfully called her “alternative lifestyle,” Dez still brought a girl home. Someone sweet and feminine, undeniably gorgeous with her big Afro and pillowy body; but still a dyke. Mia was sixteen and had already been plucked several times before the fourteen-year-old Dez got a hold of her. Dez had boldly walked her into the family’s house, shared peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches and giggles over the dining table before taking her up to her room for the sticky, teenaged version of “show-and-tell.” When the two girls emerged, breathless and glowing almost two hours later, they bumped into Dez’s father. Warrick’s nostrils flared, like he smelled the dyke on them. Then he walked past as if Dez wasn’t even standing there. Her stomach and her face fell, but she turned to Mia with a carefree smile and asked the older girl if she wanted to go for a dip in the pool.
She ran to her aunt later that day, finally giving into the tears that had threatened at that one poisonous look from her father. Paul patted her shoulder then made her a root beer float. When Dez could finally speak without dissolving into hiccupping tears, her aunt made a simple offer:
“If you want to hang out with your girlfriends, bring them here. You know that you have the whole attic to yourself. Just give me some warning so you don’t give this old dyke a heart attack when I hear strange noises over my head.”
The teenage Dez had shuddered. “As if I’d do anything with a girl when you’re in the house. That’s too weird.”
Her aunt only laughed. Not long after that, Dez wanting to bring girls home wasn’t an issue anymore. Her father filed for a divorce and moved out.
“Mama. Derrick.” Dez greeted her family with a properly somber nod.
Her brother and mother stood next to the high window with drinks in their hands, like someone had just finished making yet another inane comment about the view of the city and they were looking at it just to be polite. Claudia’s face was slightly pinched, but she looked like she was handling the situation well enough. Derrick nodded at his sister, but said nothing. It was probably better that way.
Dez smiled at her father’s wife who sat on the couch watching their exchange with calm eyes. Tall and elegant, she could have been any society woman Dez encountered on the streets of Miami. Her skin was pale, like milky tea, but she was still beautiful with her high, wide cheekbones and straightened hair that fell just beneath her breasts. Like her husband, she wore a suit. A Chanel in burnt gold that made the best of her complexion and mirrored the color of her eyes.
“Desiree, this is Sushaunna. My wife.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Dez bowed over her hand, lightly kissing the scented skin. “Sorry about my slight tardiness. I had something come up at home.”
“You weren’t late at all,” Sushaunna said in her slightly accented English. “We were all just getting to know one another.” Her smile was a gentle appeal for friendship. “And please call me Susha.”
Dez smiled back. “Great. Then let’s get this party started.” “We’re going to be over here in the parlor,” Warrick said.
“After you.”
Dez brought up the tail end of the procession to the pretentious little sitting room with an expansive view of Biscayne Bay. Lights glittered off the water. A table sat prepared with platters of finger food—cheeses, fruit, vegetables, even caviar and crackers. The tall bar opposite the gigantic window seemed fully stocked. There were enough chairs in the room to accommodate everyone and then some.
“Help yourself to anything you want.”
This is too fucking weird. Her father walked around like some benevolent patriarch while his family seemed perfectly willing to go along with it. Dez poured herself a hefty glass of scotch.
“Would you like me to freshen your drink for you, Mama?” she asked from the bar.
“Yes, please.”
She took her moth
er’s glass of white wine and topped it off.
“Before you got here, darling, your father was just telling us how he wanted to give Sushaunna a tour of the city. She’d never been here before.”
“It’s a nice town. I’m sure you’ll love it,” Dez felt obliged to say to her stepmother as she passed Claudia her wine.
“To tell the truth it reminds me a little of some California cities I’ve seen. I’m sure there’s not much difference.”
Derrick grunted. If Miami were a woman, he would have married her by now. He loved the city with a passion that few understood. To him, La Bonita was like no other city on earth. “I wouldn’t say that,” was all he said.
Dez chuckled from behind her glass. “So, Papa. What brings you to our fair city? I thought you were done with us forever.”
Warrick glanced at his daughter, her spectacular height and handsome, dykey looks, and hated her. Or at least that’s what Dez thought. “I could never be done with this place,” he said. “After all, my children are here. And Claudia, the woman who I considered my best friend for a long time.”
“Hm. I guess I wasn’t clear enough.” She swirled the pale amber liquid in her glass. “What are you doing here and why did you want us all to come?”
“Isn’t it enough that I wanted to come?”
Dez shook her head but forgot to smile.
“I’ll not stand here and be interrogated by my own daughter.” Warrick finally put away his fake smile.
Susha spoke up. “Rick thought it was time that I met his first wife and his other children. The twins’ grandparents are in town for the week and could babysit for us, so it was the perfect time for Warrick and me to come see you.”
There was a new set of twins. Dez hadn’t heard that. They, she and Derrick, had been replaced, too. She noticed the faintest twitch of Derrick’s jaw but knew the fucker wouldn’t say anything.
“And,” Susha continued with a faint lowering of her voice, “he told me about your being ill, Claudia. I wanted to tell you in person that if there’s anything that I can do for you, just ask it.”