All I need is a few hours of sleep, she reasoned as she headed down the hallway to the bedroom she and Carol shared. They had not spoken since their brief encounter yesterday. Carol had disappeared after Sandra escaped to her office and not returned home until after midnight. They spent a long silent night clinging to their respective sides of the bed. Carol was still sleeping when Sandra left for work.
If she’s in, perhaps we can talk, Sandra thought. We have to clear this up. After I’ve rested for an hour or so, we can go somewhere for the afternoon and maybe even share an early dinner. Sandra opened the bedroom door gently, in case Carol was still sleeping. She stopped short at the spectacle before her. Carol sat in the middle of their bed, with her head thrown back, moaning in ecstasy. A blond tangle of hair spread out from between her legs and across the bed. A cry began and died in the back of Sandra’s throat.
Carol’s eyes flew open. A look of sheer terror crossed her face. Sandra felt her feet weld themselves to the floor. She could only stare at the woman between Carol’s legs. All the times she tried to get Carol to let her touch her came back in a flash. How long had she been seeing this woman? Was she the first or were there others? Was this how Carol normally spent her days?
“Sandra, I can explain,” Carol said, crawling across the bed toward her. Ingrid Bennington sat up and tossed her mane of wild hair, her lips still wet with Carol’s excitement. She flashed Sandra a triumphant smile.
Carol grabbed Sandra’s hand. “It’s not what it looks like.”
Sandra looked down into Carol’s face. She had been such a fool! “You have exactly five minutes to get out. Get dressed.
Don’t bother packing.”
“Sandra! No!” Carol began to cry. “Please, let me explain.
Ingrid is a photographer. She came by to take my photo and…
and…”
“Four minutes,” Sandra said, feeling made of stone.
“You can’t do this! You can’t make me leave. This is my home, too.”“You signed away your title when you let that bitch crawl between your legs,” Sandra spat. “You’re down to three minutes.
Unless you want to walk through the lobby as you are now, I suggest you start dressing.”
Ingrid slid from the bed and began to dress with slow deliberation. Sandra tore away from Carol and crossed the room to where Carol’s purse sat on the dresser. She began to dig through it.
“What are you doing?” Carol demanded.
“I’m taking my car keys and my credit cards.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Carol wailed.
“You can either crawl back to Daddy, live with the love of your life there,” she said, pointing to Ingrid. “Or you can get a job.” She glared at Carol, who stood naked before her. The initial shock was wearing off, and Carol’s anger was building.
“You can’t do this to me,” she insisted. Her voice shook as she continued. “I’ll sue you for everything you have.”
“No, you won’t. You’d have to admit you’re a lesbian. What would Daddy do then?”
Carol’s arm swung up to slap her. Sandra caught it and pushed it aside. Carol grabbed a suit from her closet and began to dress.
As soon as she pulled the skirt and blouse on, Sandra threw the purse to her.
“Get out of my house and take your trash with you,” she said, tilting her head to indicate Ingrid.
“You’ll be sorry” Carol hissed.
“I’ve been sorry for years,” Sandra countered. She waited until she heard the front door slam before she reached for the telephone and called the building security guard.
“Hello, Richard. This is Sandra Tate. Ms. Grant no longer resides here. She should be leaving the building in a few seconds.
She’s not to be allowed back in under any circumstances.”
It took Sandra three telephone calls to get Ingrid Bennington’s address. An hour later, a moving crew arrived at Sandra’s penthouse and packed Carol’s things. Sandra gave them Ingrid’s address and signed a check, which included a hefty bonus for their willingness to arrive on such short notice. A separate courier arrived to transport Carol’s jewelry.
Sandra systematically canceled Carol’s credit cards, charge accounts, and bank accounts. After the last call, she forwarded her calls to the answering service and allowed herself a rare shot of Scotch. She carried it to one of the guest bedrooms where she stripped and crawled into bed. She pushed all thoughts of Carol from her mind, downed the Scotch, and was soon asleep.
0
CHAPTER FOUR
Sandra opened her eyes to an unfamiliar room. Disoriented and bewildered, she looked around the darkened room and moaned as the events of the past few hours slammed back. Her throat constricted as the look of ecstasy on Carol’s face came back to haunt her.
Why was I never able to put it there? she wondered. Carol was right. I am a lousy lover.
For years, she had held onto her belief that Carol’s lack of interest in sex caused their problems. Now, she knew it was not Carol.
She was the problem.
Sandra tried to analyze her feelings for Carol, but they were too complicated and clouded. Had she ever loved Carol? Yes, in the beginning, before she discovered Carol tricked her and used her as a money tool to help her father.
Sandra glanced at the glowing digits on the clock beside the bed. It was already after ten; she slept the entire day away.
She pulled the blanket from the bed, wrapped it around her, and walked aimlessly around the room. Unable to corral her thoughts, she opened the French doors and stepped out onto the dark balcony. The late February temperatures were brisk, but Sandra craved its freshness.
She curled into a chair and deliberately avoided thinking about Carol. At some point she would have to come to terms with her, but the wound was still too raw. She focused her thoughts on work until the cold drove her back inside.
Chilled, she slipped on a bathrobe and headed to the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee.
“Ah, there you are, lass. Will you be wantin’ to eat now?”
Startled by the voice, Sandra jumped. “Margaret. What are you doing awake? Its almost midnight.”
Margaret started working for Sandra about a month after Sandra and Carol got together. Carol insisted they hire a maid.
Sandra had been hesitant to let a stranger into her home, until one of Carol’s friends mentioned they were moving back to London and their housekeeper refused to go with them. The woman assured Sandra that Margaret was discreet. Sandra soon discovered the reason Margaret so calmly accepted her employer’s lesbian lifestyle: Margaret was a lesbian herself.
An immediate bond developed with the stout, no-nonsense woman who even after several years of living in the States still spoke with a strong Irish brogue. The bond flourished, and a deep sense of respect and caring developed between the two women.
“I thought you and your Canasta buddy, Minnie, were going to a wedding tonight.”
“So we were, lass, but Minnie was feeling poorly and we decided not to go.” She pulled bowls from the refrigerator.
“Margaret, I’m not hungry. I came out to get a cup of coffee.”
Margaret looked at her critically. “You’ve not had your supper, I’ll wager.”
“I’m really not hungry.”
Margaret was about to protest, but Sandra shot her a warning glance. Never one to be intimidated, Margaret anchored her hands on her hips. “Ms. Grant won’t be liking your drinking coffee at this hour.”
Sandra suppressed a groan. Somehow, Margaret must have already heard the rumors and canceled her plans with Minnie to make sure Sandra was all right. She was now waiting for Sandra to confirm the rumors.
Sandra plopped onto a stool and rubbed her hands over her face. It would be days before Margaret stopped saying “I told you so.”
“Ms. Grant doesn’t live here anymore and quite frankly never gave a damn what I ate or drank when she was here.” Sandra watched in surprise as a kaleidoscope of e
motions danced over Margaret’s face. She knew Margaret disliked Carol as much as Carol disapproved of Margaret.
Carol accused Sandra of treating Margaret like family. Sandra had laughed and told her she wished Margaret were family. The statement caused an unpleasant scene, and Carol only resented Margaret more.
“Are you okay, lass?” Margaret asked with such concern a lump formed in Sandra’s throat. She swallowed several times, fighting to regain control of her emotions.
“I’m fine,” she said. “It should have ended years ago. We’ve both been dragging it out too long.”
The intercom buzzer from the security guard interrupted them.
“Now, who would come calling at this hour?” Margaret scolded as she went to answer. Sandra followed.
“Ms. Cromwell is here to see Ms. Tate. She says it’s urgent,”
Arnold, the night security guard, informed them in what Sandra secretly called his Humphrey Bogart voice. In his early sixties, Arnold was always ready to tell anyone, who made the mistake of lingering within hearing distance, about his golden years in Hollywood.
Margaret waited for Sandra to decide whether to allow Lona
to come up or not.
Sandra considered brushing Lona off, but if Lona said it was urgent, it probably was.
“Send her up,” she said, earning another glare of disapproval from Margaret.
“You should be in bed. Not having to listen to the likes of that bloody woman.”
“Margaret, I’ll be fine. Go on to bed and make sure you give Minnie my best tomorrow when you talk to her.”
Margaret was gearing up for a battle, but Sandra cut her off. “You let me know if she starts feeling worse,” Sandra said.
“I’ll stop by to see her on my way home tomorrow and take her some flowers to cheer her up.” The ploy stopped the softhearted Margaret cold, as Sandra knew it would.
“Ah, bless you. You’re so busy, but still take time to care for others. You’re too good for this old world,” Margaret said with a sniff. She dabbed her eyes as she made her way to her room.
Sandra shook her head and made a mental note to check on Minnie’s progress. The doorbell rang and she went to answer it.
“Sandra, darling. Are you all right?” Lona Cromwell floated through the doorway and pulled Sandra into a crushing embrace.
“I’m fine,” Sandra said, maneuvering herself away from Lona’s arms.
“I was so shocked when I heard the news.”
Sandra’s face burned. The news spread much more quickly than she anticipated. How? Considering Carol’s distaste for gossip, she doubted it came from her. That left Ingrid Bennington.
“You poor thing,” Lona cooed, and reached for her again.
Sandra avoided the hug by executing a quick turn toward the kitchen.
“I was about to make some coffee. Would you like a cup?”
“No, dear. You know I detest coffee. Tell Margaret I’ll have tea.”
“Margaret’s already in bed, but I’ll fix you a cup.”
Lona shook her head and clamped onto Sandra’s arm. “You
need someone to take care of you. You’re entirely too lax on your household. You need to rule with a firm hand.”
“Lona, I’m perfectly capable of fixing myself a cup of coffee.”
“I wasn’t just referring to your household staff,” she replied, giving Sandra a knowing glance.
Clueless, Sandra stopped and stared at her. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re such an innocent.” Her hand pushed the hair back from Sandra’s face. You may be a financial genius, but you know nothing about what women want.”
Sandra felt her face turn scarlet. Has Carol told the whole world I’m lousy lover?
“Look at you,” Lona chuckled, increasing Sandra’s discomfort.
“I don’t have your experience, I’m sure,” Sandra snapped, yanking her arm away as she made her escape to the kitchen.
Lona Cromwell’s reputation spread much farther than Texas.
Long ago, Sandra stopped trying to keep up with all the rumors.
Lona followed her, seemingly unaffected by her remarks.
Sandra smiled when she found a sandwich sitting on the counter alongside a pot of coffee. Margaret had again gotten the last word.
“Did it ever occur to you, I move from woman to woman because I couldn’t have what I truly wanted?” Lona asked as she continued to approach Sandra.
“And what might that be?” Sandra asked. She tried to ignore Lona’s closeness as she searched the pantry for tea.
“You.” A hand trailed slowly down her back and Sandra shivered in spite of herself. She turned and backed up trying to get away, but Lona trapped her against the pantry “I’ve waited for you to notice me for so long, but you could never see beyond Carol.”
“Lona, stop it.” Sandra tried to move past her, but Lona held her space and continued.
“I knew you weren’t happy. I could see the sadness in your
eyes. And her screwing every woman who showed the slightest interest.”
Sandra flinched. There it was. Ingrid was not Carol’s first affair. She wanted to know who the other women were, but could not bring herself to ask. Lona was still talking.
“She never knew how to treat you, but I do.” Her hands were on Sandra’s waist. “I can make you feel like the powerful woman you are. I would do anything you told me. Anything.”
Where is this going? Sandra wondered.
“Tell me what you want,” Lona whispered in a sultry voice.
Her lips brushed against Sandra’s eat “You deserve it. Whatever it might be. I’m yours for the taking.”
In spite of her revulsion, Sandra felt a part of herself responding. Her robe opened and Lona’s hands roamed over her bare skin. Lona’s lips inched down Sandra’s throat and trailed a burning line between her breasts before she stopped to whisper in Sandra’s ear. “Take control. Make me please you.”
Sandra felt a stab of excitement course through her. Don’t do this, she warned herself as she grabbed Lona’s hands and tried to push her away. The last thing she needed now was to become involved with Lona Cromwell. Sandra wished her body was as reasonable as her brain.
“Yes,” Lona moaned when Sandra’s grip tightened.
“Lona, stop it.” Sandra shook her. “I want you to go home.”
“No,” Lona cried, her face distorted in anguish. “I want you to control me. I need you. I’m bad. You need to punish me!”
Sandra watched mesmerized as Lona unzipped her jumper and slid it off her shoulders to reveal herself to Sandra. Each pierced nipple held a small gold ring connected by a thin golden chain.
“For you,” Lona cooed.
Sandra closed her eyes and tried to control the desire sweeping through her. I’m doing this because of Carol, she told herself. She made me feel powerless and I’m only reacting to Lona because I need the control back in my life.
No matter how much she talked to herself, her desire for
Lona escalated. She shoved Lona away, ill and ashamed of the lust pounding her body. Lona slipped to the floor.
Sandra collapsed onto a stool and dropped her head to the cool wood of the counter. She had almost given in. Lona’s submission had excited her, but the sight of her pierced and chained body also shocked Sandra.
Lona groaned. For one heart-stopping second Sandra thought she might be physically hurt. She started to rise, but Lona stopped her with a smoldering glance.
“I knew you would respond,” Lona said hoarsely, and crawled to Sandra. Lona’s face held a look that both attracted and frightened Sandra.
“Let me thank you,” Lona begged.
Sandra sat transfixed as Lona crawled to her. In one swift move, Lona spread Sandra’s legs and buried her head between Sandra’s thighs. She wanted to protest, but Lona’s tongue was creating magic previously unknown to Sandra. She gave in to the hunger consuming her. Desperate for the release offered by Lona, San
dra wrapped her hands in Lona’s long black hair and pulled her tighter against her throbbing center. Lona moaned and moved as if possessed. Sandra slipped to the edge of the stool and rode Lona’s tongue until she dropped over the edge of sensation and swirled unimpeded through a warm void. She sat stunned with her hands wrapped in Lona’s hair, while Lona contentedly licked away Sandra’s juices.
Sandra was scared. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, she had lost control. She glanced down at the tangle of Lona’s hair between her legs. How would she ever be able to face this woman again? We both wanted it, she reminded herself.
Nevertheless, this was definitely not something she intended to continue. Lona’s busy tongue made it difficult for her to concentrate on anything.
Lona was the kind of woman who would be attracted to anything she saw as unattainable. With her goal achieved, perhaps she would lose interest. There was still the matter of getting her out of the house and quickly, Sandra thought. Control. She wants
to be controlled. Lona started to look up.
“Don’t look at me.” Sandra forced as much brusqueness into her voice as possible. Lona immediately dropped her head and lowered her body. Sandra gritted her teeth. Be persuasive. “I’m through with you,” Sandra snapped. “Go home and don’t bother me again.” She half expected Lona to rise and slap her; instead, Lona crawled out of the kitchen. A few seconds later, Sandra heard the front door open and close.
Sandra felt ill and ran down the hall to the bathroom. She had not eaten anything since breakfast and suffered a spasm of dry heaves. Having witnessed a side of herself she never knew existed scared her.
Sandra washed her face and rinsed her mouth. As she dried her face, she was shocked to find dark circles ringing her eyes.
The cut above her eye glowed red and angry-looking against her pale skin. She released a long sigh, admitting she felt as tired as she looked.
The tightness in her chest began again. She slowly made her way back to the guest room and lay on the bed with extra pillows piled behind her head to alleviate the pressure building in her chest.
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