by Radclyffe
“You did it!” she said softly, and I saw the gleam of her smile.
As we neared the bottom of the chairlift, the lights got brighter.
“Bloody hell, Han, we’re all covered in t’ mud!” Niccie cackled. Her lad had his arm around her. I supposed I’d better think about finding out his name. She was right, too—head-to-toe mudlarks, the lot of us.
Kim had a smear of dried mud on her cheek, pale against her skin. She smiled at me. “You’ve got mud on your nose,” she said. “Want me to get it for you?”
“Is it worth it?” I asked, looking down at myself ruefully. Thank god I’d worn full waterproofs. Even if they did make me look like a walking tent. Now I looked like a tent after a weekend at Glastonbury.
“Probably not. Still, nothing a hot shower won’t cure.”
I felt a bit hot myself, her voice conjuring pictures in my brain. “We’re staying at a B-and-B back at Horton in Ribblesdale, me and Niccie. Don’t suppose you’d like to come back with us?”
Kim’s face twisted. “Can’t—I’ll have to stay and help dismantle the winch, it’s our last day here. By the time we’ve done that—well, and had a few drinks—I won’t be fit for anything but sleep. But we’ll swap numbers up top, all right?”
“All right,” I said.
We watched a lad being strapped into the chairlift, flirting with the caver doing the strapping.
“Okay,” the girl said as she finished the last buckle and stepped back. “When you get up to the top, you give us a yodel, all right?”
He grinned. “Got it.”
“It’s traditional, but I’m always too scared,” Kim whispered. We watched as he rose up and up, the ceiling of the cave seeming to get higher as he did, until he started to block the sunlight coming down that big chimney. Then he let out a great call, whooping like one of the monkeys in Chester Zoo, and disappeared.
“You’ll be fine,” I told Kim.
“I know, I know—I’m just being daft, really.”
“No dafter than me thinking a cave that’s stood for a million bloody years is going to pick today to fall in on me.”
“Actually, it’s more like eleven or twelve thousand years old. Since the last ice age.”
I laughed. “Good thing you didn’t tell me that back there, then.”
“You were so brave,” Kim said, her hand slipping into mine. “I was worried you’d freeze up or hyperventilate, but you just kept on going.”
“Had an incentive, didn’t I?” I squeezed her hand. “Didn’t want you getting away from me.”
“Oh, don’t you worry,” she teased back. “Climbers and cavers are known for keeping a firm grip on things.”
We watched Niccie and the lads going up on the chair. The lads all howled like werewolves when they got to the top, and Niccie screeched out a battle cry I thought would bring down the whole bloody cavern.
Then it was our turn. I made Kim go first, and I saw how her fingers were trembling as she held onto the harness. “You’ll be fine,” I told her, and she managed a smile.
I watched her soar up toward the daylight, and my heart ached to think of her scared, with her eyes tight shut. I’d loved the trip on the way down, being gently sprayed by the thin summer flow of the waterfall and passing sheer rock walls with brave flowers and plants clinging stubbornly to life. I wished I could be up there with Kim now, holding her close so she wouldn’t be frightened.
Then I heard her voice, yodeling down from the top of the cavern. “Woo-hoooooooo!”
My heart soared up to join her, and I couldn’t wait for the rest of me to follow.
LAW OF THE CAMAZOTZ
Lisa Figueroa
The moment I stepped off the plane in Cancun, the heat surrounded me like a feverish demon, both sticky and slick, attacking in shimmering waves of unrelenting sweat. It seemed to cling to me, particularly focusing its wet mouth—if such a thing even had a mouth, which I’m pretty sure it would—directly on my pussy as my knees threatened to collapse from the sheer force of its intensity. I knew it would be hot in the middle of August, I knew the humidity in the southernmost part of Mexico would very likely be uncomfortable, but this was almost inhuman. What had I been thinking, agreeing to a vacation in such tropical weather? With a sigh of dismay I noted that my long, curly hair was morphing into a mass of unmanageable frizz. I shot a disapproving look at my sister, Marga, who stood next to me with our luggage, grinning back at me like she’d just unwrapped this paradise on Christmas morning. When we were kids, she was the one who had always managed to wake up first, desperate to see the toys Santa left her, and then she’d drag me sleepily out of bed to follow her to the Christmas tree. She was always in a hurry, rampaging through her gifts like someone might cancel the holiday any minute, while I preferred to take my time and savor each wrapped bundle. I even tried to guess what was inside. It drove her nuts and she’d eventually abandon her opened boxes and wander over and sit in front of me on folded legs, tilted head resting on her hand as she stared at my efforts like she was trying to figure out how we could ever be related.
We were the same way when it came to our love life. Despite the fact that I was attracted to women and she to men, she tore through her men, eagerly unwrapping them as soon as possible and then discarding them just as quickly when what she found inside wasn’t to her liking. I, on the other hand, was content to explore each of my women slowly, always looking to discover something new inside each one, never wanting to give up even when I knew better.
“God, Antonia, I love the heat. It makes me feel so fucking alive. I think I never want to leave,” my sister announced with a throaty and cheerful inflection I hadn’t heard in a while, at least not since her breakup with Marco.
I suppose that was the point of this vacation. To get to a happy place, to commiserate together as only sisters can and in the process help each other get over our exes. If only I could laugh about Delia. I was particularly bitter about my breakup with her because she had cheated on me. It had devastated me because I never saw it coming. I was too busy thinking of future dreams, of us moving in together, instead of the reality of her betrayal. I pushed away the memory as I regarded my sister with a wan smile of resignation.
“Great. You feel alive and I feel like I’m dying. I can see this is going to be a wonderful trip.”
“Just give it a chance, will you? Don’t start checking out on me yet. Let’s at least check in to the hotel first, hermana.”
I nodded compliance and headed toward the hotel, very intrigued by the idea of getting inside and basking in the comfort of air-conditioning.
The hotel room was nicer than I’d imagined, terra-cotta floor tiles, handcrafted rustic furniture mixed with modern paintings and luxurious bed linens. Authentic but comfortable. I went immediately toward the wall panel to flip on the air conditioner as Marga opened the French doors that led out onto a small balcony, and with a quick smile over her shoulder at me, she went outside. I flopped onto the bed, only slightly feigning exhaustion. When I realized that Marga had no intention of coming back into the coolness of the room, I got up to join her on the balcony. She was leaning with her elbows on the rim of the wrought-iron enclosure, watching the breaking waves and cascading foam. It was a lovely view and took the edge off the unrelenting heat.
“So, what should we do first, grab lunch or go on that diving tour of the caves?” Marga asked without taking her gaze off the ocean.
Marga was an experienced diver. She’d been talking about diving in the wondrous stalagmite caves of the famed Dos Ojos caverns for days. She had several brochures that showed beautiful pure and tranquil water and unique rock formations that turned the caves into another world. There was so much to see that even the bats that lived and roosted high up among the stalactites didn’t bother her as much as I thought they would. But I was not in the mood for adventure. Anyway, it wasn’t like we were a married couple. We were each free to do as we pleased.
“How about you go diving and I’ll go shopping,” I said
lightly. She blinked in surprise, not sure if she was supposed to be happy about my suggestion or act disappointed.
“Well, okay, but we’ll meet back at the hotel for dinner? How’s that sound?” she said with a little too much enthusiasm. So much for acting disappointed.
“Perfecto,” I replied. I left her to her personal commune with the natural wonders of Mexico as I grabbed my bag and went to commune with the simple splendor I often found shopping.
On the advice of the front desk, I walked six blocks away from the beach and turned left onto the main street of the town. It supposedly offered the best variety of shopping. There were several shops that sold the usual tourist trinkets; sandal key chains, T-shirts and wide brimmed hats, but a few stood out with lovely and authentic Mexican crafts: leather bags with incredible tooled design, delicately painted Talavera pottery, hand-woven blankets with intricate detail and Alebrijes, papier-mâché sculptures in the shape of every known animal. By the time I reached the end of several blocks, and the limit of how many shopping bags I could comfortably carry, I decided to take a break. I stopped at a café for a soda, sipping it as I stretched my tired legs and rubbed my sore arms, people-watching while luxuriating in the cooling air. It was then I noticed how much darker the day was getting. Twilight was settling in and I decided it was time to head back to the hotel. Actually, if I didn’t hurry, I was going to miss my dinner date with Marga.
The light faded even faster as I made my way down the winding streets. I kept looking at the shops around me for help in distinguishing landmarks, but I couldn’t seem to note anything familiar, and when I turned the next corner, I realized with a fluster of anxiety that I was lost. I was about to take out my cell phone when a man walked up to me out of nowhere.
“Hola, señorita. Can I interest you in some silver? I have bracelets, rings, necklaces. What would you like?” He opened up his coat and I found myself gazing at an amazing display of jewelry arranged neatly on the inside lining.
“No, gracias,” I said, moving around him. He quickly moved back in front of me. I hesitated before firmly stepping past him again but he blocked my way and stared at me without smiling.
“Can’t you see she’s not interested, Gonzalo?” Another larger man came up behind me and I felt momentary relief that someone had come to offer help. That relief vanished quickly as he clamped his hand over my mouth and together they pulled me into a darkened alley. I screamed but it was muffled, and I lost my bags as I tried to pull away and kicked out, making contact with the smaller one’s knee as they increased their speed. I wasn’t sure if I tripped or was pushed, but the ground rushed up at me and I banged the side of my forehead hard. The larger man released my mouth to roll me over, and as he did so I was finally free to scream my lungs out. Although the first, smaller guy was startled into letting me go, the other pulled back his hand, quickly closing it into a fist as I closed my eyes in sick anticipation, but the blow never reached me. Instead, the resounding thud I heard was the large man being hauled against the side of the building before he crumpled at my feet. The smaller man slinked away, his jewelry coat jingling as he turned and ran. He didn’t get very far, and in a flurry of movement too quick to understand, he was soon unconscious on the ground next to his friend.
I closed my eyes in relief but I was also stunned and confused as to what had just happened. When I finally opened them again, someone was crouching next to me. A woman with eyes that reminded me of the dark turquoise diving pools my sister was probably exploring somewhere in those caverns deep beneath us. Long, silky black hair was gathered loosely in a clip at the nape of her neck, and her bronzed skin had a burnished quality like smooth terra-cotta sculpture. Her clothes were dark and indistinguishable except for a long leather coat that for some reason reminded me of a superhero cape.
I tried sitting up but the motion made me want to vomit, so I lay back down and blinked as she bent closer, assessing my injuries. “You’re going to be okay,” the woman said as she touched my face briefly, almost longingly. She withdrew her hand and smiled.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“My name’s Caliana. And you are?”
“Antonia.”
Even though she nodded, I wasn’t sure if she’d heard me. She was paying particularly close attention to my bleeding temple. I had a hard time focusing because my vision wouldn’t stop whiting out and her eyes kept transforming into six dancing pairs of blue. The last thing I remember was her leaning forward to cradle the back of my head with her palm, hot breath panting across my forehead as she soothingly traced her tongue across my bleeding wound with purposeful flicks.
I woke up slowly as the sounds of crashing waves and salty, moist air invaded my senses. For a moment, before I opened my eyes, I imagined I was floating out in the middle of the sea, drifting, guided only by the fickle whimsies of the wind. The feeling of letting go was peaceful and I didn’t want it to end, but I knew it was time to come ashore, and since I was curious to see where I landed, I opened my eyes. I was lying in a soft bundle of blankets on some kind of raised dais. A bamboo table and matching chairs were on one side of me and a small sink and stove on the other. My shopping bags were neatly arranged against the wall. The illumination of several candles gave off an eerie glow that made shadows appear and disappear. I sat up reluctantly, not wanting to leave the comfort of the cocoon-like bed. I remembered my head wound and tentatively touched it but there was no trace of the previous cut; no pain either, even when I rubbed my forehead harder. No anything. It was as if it had never existed. But it did happen, didn’t it?
“Hello?” I called out, unsure of anything, and my echoing voice seemed to taunt me. I realized I was in a cave.
“Hello,” my rescuer, Caliana, answered in the same instant I felt a rush of air next to me that appeared to morph into her solid form. A wave of dizziness flooded through me as I turned toward her and blinked, trying to focus. She smiled at me shyly. “It’s good to see you awake.”
“You saved my life,” I said.
“Not really. Those guys were just robbing you. They weren’t going to kill you. They had you targeted the moment you went to Gato’s Café.”
I remembered the look on their faces and the promise of brutality in the grip of their hands. Somehow I knew she was downplaying the seriousness of the attack. “But you stopped them. I don’t understand how you were able to do that.”
“I know some martial arts,” she said with a shrug. She gently touched the place on my temple where my cut had been. “How do you feel?”
My eyes widened at the coolness of her touch and the simplicity of her explanation. Her strength was something I’d never seen in anyone, let alone a woman. She’d handled those men like she was twice their size. I wondered why that didn’t scare me more as I looked around, still trying to get my bearings. It was night now but her olive skin glowed as if lit by more than simple candles, and her eyes sparkled as if there was something hovering just beneath the surface of those tranquil turquoise pools, something that kept wavering as she regarded me with a deepening intensity. I wanted to sink back into the cocoon bed. With her. That last thought made me light-headed again. “Thank you.”
It was all I could manage to say.
She tilted her head as if she’d never heard these words before, her lips pressed together in a slight frown, and then she brightened again. “If you really want to thank me, then stay and have dinner with me. I just caught some excellent fish.”
Had she also caught me? “You mean you not only know martial arts but you can cook too?” I smiled mischievously at her and she chuckled.
“I can do a lot of things that might surprise you.”
I quivered with an overwhelming wish to know what those things might be.
“I’d love to have dinner with you,” I said.
“Good,” she replied and stood up as she offered a hand to me.
I clasped her hand, and as I got up from the bed and stepped down off its platform, I stumbled and fe
ll clumsily into her arms. She caught me instantly, our faces inches from each other, breathing each other’s breath, the warm softness of my full breasts pressed up hard against her smaller, flatter chest. As I felt her nipples contract through her thin shirt, my arms tightened around her shoulders and her hands gripped my waist. A soft moan escaped her just before she released me and stepped away.
“Careful. You might need to take it a bit easy for a while,” she said without looking at me.
“Is there somewhere I could freshen up a little?” I asked.
“In the back, to your right, there’s an alcove that will have anything you need.”
She had already grabbed a small basket from the table and was busying herself with the preparations for dinner. I found my way to the alcove and made a quick phone call to Marga, who was upset that I was not meeting her for dinner.
“I can’t believe you already have a hot date,” Marga said with a tinge of jealously.
“Well, I don’t know if I’d call being in a cave with a stranger a hot date.”
“You’re in a cave?” There was panicky edge to her voice. “My diving guide said the caves have an unusual number of bats this season. God, they were everywhere.”
“That’s strange. I haven’t seen any.”
“Just be careful. Anyway, I guess I get to have a boring evening with room service. I don’t feel comfortable going out by myself.”
I said good-bye, amused that for once I was the one willing to get out there and take a chance and my sister was afraid to even go down to the bar and have a drink by herself. It was actually satisfying to see our roles reversed. My attack had left me feeling a little reckless, along with a definite sense of exasperation at my sister’s fear and hesitation. I supposed I finally understood the way Marga usually saw me. When I got back to the main room, Caliana was setting the table. She looked up at me, and her appreciative glance made me shiver even though I wasn’t the least bit cold.
Dinner was a heady blur of shy glances and longing looks. My host was incredibly attractive. She was androgynously gorgeous in a way that surprised me, since I usually went for femmes like me, but her slim hips and boyish body were a nice counterpoint to my generous curves. I could tell by the way she kept staring at my cleavage that the attraction was mutual. There was a soothing calmness about her, a sort of sensuous ease that made me comfortable but also made me vibrate with desire. I had never felt such potent attraction. I ate every bit of my exquisitely prepared red snapper and finished off two glasses of wine. When she was about to pour a third glass I shook my head. I noticed Caliana had barely touched her food. It seemed like she was very good at moving the food around her plate. I couldn’t help but wonder what Marga would do in this situation. At the moment, I was tired of being careful. The more careful I was, the worse I seemed to do when it came to women. Maybe it was time to be bold.