A Palette for Love

by Charlotte Greene

  “Amelia!” I begged again. “Please! I can’t wait anymore.”

  She only chuckled and kept her lips and hands where they were. I wrapped my legs around her, trying to pull her closer so I could rub my furiously throbbing center on her, but she kept shoving me down and away from her.

  “Not yet,” she said, firmly. I let out a groan of frustration, and she laughed at me. She stopped kissing my neck and put her lips to my ear. “I want to make you come so hard you’ll beg me to stop,” she whispered.

  The words nearly undid me. Had she touched me anywhere between my legs, no matter how briefly, I would have come almost instantly. Just her harsh ministrations to my breasts might make it happen anyway. The sensual blindfold, the stockings, and my limited movement added to the taboo. Evidently the fantasies I’d harbored about being tied up and blindfolded had been correct: this was exactly what I’d wanted her to do.

  She moved her mouth down to one nipple and then the other, gripping my ass and massaging it as well. Her fingers were closer to my center than they’d been, but still too far away, and despite how wonderful her mouth felt on my breasts, I desperately wanted it somewhere else. Finally, as if sensing I couldn’t wait anymore, she moved one of her hands between my legs. I rose to meet her fingers and she slammed into me, hard. I choked down a scream and threw my head back, using the momentum of my entire body to meet her fingers inside me. She used the pinky of the hand inside me to teasingly play with the outside of my ass, and I began to slip over the edge.

  When I came, waves of tortuous pleasure rolled through me. I saw bright flashes of white behind my eyelids, pulsing in rhythm with the undulations of my body. I was too overwhelmed to even scream for several long moments, but as I began to crest, I screamed incoherently, rocking my head backward and forward in a desperate effort to make the pleasure last forever.

  Finally, just as she’d predicted, I heard myself gasp out, “Stop, please stop.”

  Despite the blindfold, I could sense her triumph.

  *

  In the afterglow of the best sex of my life, I took stock of what had happened. Amelia was cradled in my arms, her head on my shoulder, eyes closed in a light doze. While she hadn’t taken off all her clothes, I was satisfied with how far she’d gone to please me. I knew I could try to get used to her situation. Moreover, she’d suggested that, however slim the hope, it might not be a permanent problem. She used to like being touched. Perhaps with time and patience, she could like it again. I decided to hold on to the hope that it would happen for us and keep trying. I would be gentle and loving, and maybe with time, things would change. I ran my hand up and down her arm, raising goose bumps, and she snuggled into me, sighing softly.

  We might have stayed there all afternoon, but I made the mistake of glancing over at my alarm clock. I jerked upright. “Christ, Amelia, look at the time!”

  She sat up lazily and looked over, her eyes widening. “Shit.”

  “We need to get moving.”

  She sighed and scooted over to the edge of the bed, helping me stand up. She reached down and then pulled on her clothes, buttoning her shirt reluctantly.

  I pointed at the dress. “Iron that. I’ll take a quick shower and do my hair and makeup.”

  “Yes ma’am,” she said, snapping a salute. “Anyway, don’t worry about being late too much.” She bent down to pick up the dress. “It’s just my family. You don’t have to impress anyone.”

  I laughed and patted her arm. “You keep telling yourself that the next time you run into my Aunt Kate.”

  She nodded and raised her eyebrows, apparently recognizing the futility of her reassurances.

  I showered quickly and raced back to my bedroom. After drying my hair as well as I could, I arranged it in a simple French twist. My makeup, like all of my clothes, was in complete disarray, and it took me longer than usual to find everything I needed. I was going for a clean look, but by the time I finished, I looked overly made up. I sighed and removed it all before reapplying, this time just darkening my lashes and putting on lipstick. I put a little concealer under my eyes to lighten up the dark circles and took a look at myself. While I still appeared overly tired and worn, I looked better than I had. Satisfied, I stood up and grabbed my bathrobe.

  I walked out of my bedroom and called, “Amelia?”

  I found her sitting at the kitchen table with Aunt Kate and Jim. Jim looked incredibly uncomfortable, and Aunt Kate and Amelia looked a little grim. They both glanced over at me when I came in, and I pulled the robe around me a little tighter in embarrassment.

  “I thought you were going to be out all day,” I said to Aunt Kate.

  “The restaurant we planned to go to was packed, so we decided to head back. Amelia and I were just having a nice conversation.”

  Amelia got to her feet and handed me the dress. “Here you go.” Her expression didn’t reveal anything, but she widened her eyes at me slightly, a hint of panic there.

  “I’ll just go slip this on,” I said, and hurried back to my room.

  While I knew Aunt Kate wasn’t likely to say anything overly critical, she could be very blunt. I could only imagine the kind of grilling Amelia was getting. I took one last look in the mirror, slipped on some ballet flats, and rejoined them as quickly as I could. Amelia almost jumped up when she saw me.

  “Are you ready?” she asked, her voice nearly pleading.

  “Yep. All set.”

  “I called the car since we’re running a little behind. It should be here any minute.”

  “Well, have a nice afternoon, ladies,” Aunt Kate said cheerfully.

  “Thank you, Katherine,” Amelia said. “You and Jim do the same.”

  “See you later, Aunt Kate.” I grabbed Amelia’s arm, and we walked to the front door to wait outside.

  Once there, she breathed a long sigh of relief. Seeing my concerned expression, she laughed. “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “That’s good. I’m sorry you had to go through that. Did she say anything mean?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing like that. It was more about how much she cares for you, how much she just wants you to be happy, and how upset she would be if someone hurt you. It was all very vague, but the implication was clear: if I hurt you, she’ll hunt me down and strangle me.”

  I hugged her. “Don’t worry about it. Once she understands how happy I am with you, she’ll come around.”

  She nodded, but I could see her skepticism.

  “Now you know why I’m so nervous about today.”

  Amelia laughed. “Don’t be. No one will corner you like that. I promise.”

  “That’s good,” I said, but I was still incredibly anxious. I suddenly wished I’d thought to get a drink of something in the house to help me relax, but it was too late now.

  The car pulled up a moment later, and we climbed inside before George could get out to open the door.

  “We’re in a terrible rush,” Amelia told him.

  “Yes, Miss Winters,” George said, and we were moving seconds later.

  “I need to go to my place first, George. We can walk over from there.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She looked back at me. “I’m going to keep you close to me today, Chloé. Family functions make me a little nervous, too. I’m just so happy you agreed to come.”

  I laughed. “If you’re this nervous, you can only imagine how I’ll feel when we get there.”

  Chapter Twenty

  As I’d predicted, the opulence of the Winterses’ family mansion was beyond anything I’d ever seen outside of a movie. Straddling an entire city block, it was nearly four times the size of Amelia’s sizable house. It had been kept its original white, and the large, columned front porch wrapped around the front and the side of the house. As this was the only mansion that had stayed in the family since it was built, it also served as the storehouse of the family’s antiques and art. Tours for the public were held on Wednesdays in the spring and summer, and it was listed as a m
ust-visit destination for tourists in guidebooks for the city. Now inside, I could see why. Several rooms on the ground floor had been kept in museum-quality condition, each looking like a window into the past. As we were led through the house to the back garden, I wondered what it had been like for Amelia and her family to grow up here. Nothing about the house, as far as I could see, suggested that anyone actually lived here. I saw no photographs, no televisions, nothing that gave away the real life of its inhabitants.

  The garden was very crowded when we walked out. Several servers were walking around with champagne and hors d’oeuvres. Despite being early November, the weather was sweltering, and large ice sculptures had been set up around the yard with fans behind them to blow cool air into the crowds. A small jazz band was playing on a raised dais, the music quiet enough that people could talk over it. A tiny dance floor had been set up in front of the band, but so far it seemed that most people were too caught up in chatting with each other to use it. Almost all of the attendees wore typical Southern garden-party clothing, the men in either seersucker or white suits, the women universally in dresses. I was incredibly fortunate that Amelia had chosen my dress, as I would likely have worn slacks if I’d come on my own. I clutched Amelia’s arm nervously, and she glanced over at me, the panic in her eyes mirroring what I felt.

  Several people waved at Amelia when they spotted her, but the first to reach us was a pretty, younger woman, who clutched Amelia’s arms like she was drowning. “Thank God you’re here,” she said, smiling with gritted teeth. “I was afraid you weren’t coming, and Billy cancelled on me at the last minute. If I hear one more person ask about my boyfriend, I’ll scream.” She was a cute, petite blonde, much slighter and smaller than Amelia. I couldn’t see any resemblance between them, but I assumed immediately that this was her sister.

  Before Amelia could reply, an older, elegant woman, walking rapidly in our direction, called out, “Amelia! So glad you finally made an appearance.” She held out her arms, and I moved aside so they could embrace. They did, somewhat awkwardly. She then held Amelia out at arm’s length, looking at her critically. “You look terribly, honey. Have you been sleeping? You work too hard.”

  “You look lovely, too, Mother,” Amelia said, then actually rolled her eyes.

  Her mother was stunning. Her silver hair was cut in a chic style, and diamond studs sparkled on her ears. She wore a gorgeous, burgundy afternoon dress, which reminded me of the kind of dresses Amelia wore at work. The light lines around her dark-blue eyes only added to her striking beauty.

  She turned to me, eyes piercing me with curiosity. “And who is this?”

  “This is Dr. Clothilde Deveraux. We work together.”

  “Do you, now?” her mother asked. Her expression was hard to read, but it seemed somewhat dismissive. She held out her hand. “So pleased to meet you. And a doctor, no less.” Here she gave Amelia what could be called a smile and raised her eyebrows before looking back at me. “What on earth do you do working for my daughter? Are there so many medical emergencies over there?”

  I heard the younger woman next to us snort with laughter, and Amelia threw her a withering look.

  “I’m not that kind of doctor,” I said, shaking her hand. “I’m an art historian.”

  “Well, that makes more sense,” she said. “So glad you girls could make it. I’ll go tell your father you’re here, dear.” She bustled away, and I felt both Amelia and her sister relax again.

  Amelia turned to me. “So that was my mother.”

  “And I’m her sister,” the younger woman said, taking my hand. “Emma.”

  “Nice to meet you, Emma.”

  Emma turned to Amelia. “Why the hell are you so late? I’ve been here alone for hours.”

  “I can’t help it if you’re always early, Emma,” Amelia said. “Anyway, we’re not that late.”

  “Well, since Billy couldn’t make it today, I’ve been here all alone for what seems like an eternity.”

  “Why didn’t you hang out with Bobby?”

  Emma snorted. “He’s busy with the kids. As usual.”

  “Are Michael and Dean here?”

  “Yeah.” Emma looked around. “Bobby and all the kids are playing boules on the lawn, and Dean and Ingrid are talking to Dad, I think.”

  Amelia looked over at me, “Those are my brothers, if you didn’t catch that. Ingrid’s my sister-in-law.”

  I nodded.

  Emma turned her bright eyes to me. “Ready to meet the rest of the family?”

  Before I could reply, Emma took my arm, and we all started walking through the crowds. “Now don’t be nervous. Only Mother and Ingrid are intimidating. Mother’s not very nice to anyone’s significant other, so don’t take it personally. She and Ingrid are two of a kind, but they hate each other, so Ingrid will probably be nice to you.”

  “Why?” I asked, confused.

  “Since Mother hates you already.”

  “She does not!” Amelia said, flushing red with embarrassment.

  Emma just rolled her eyes and then leaned closer to me. “Anyway, I’m so happy you’re here. Ever since Amelia told me about you, I’ve been just dying with curiosity. I almost never get to meet Amelia’s…friends.”

  “That’s enough of that,” Amelia said, eyes wide with alarm.

  Emma laughed. “Anyway, she’s never brought a girlfriend to Mom and Dad’s before. That must mean you’re something special. We’re going to be good friends.”

  I looked over at Amelia to reassure her. She looked relieved but still somewhat on edge.

  We soon reached a group of people, and Emma released me, which allowed Amelia to grab my hand. She clutched it nervously, and I squeezed back, surprised at her nervousness, but, considering what Emma had just told me, this situation was new for her too.

  “There’s my pumpkin!” the elder of four men said. He detached a little girl from his shoulders, set her down on the ground, and walked over to Amelia, pulling her into a deep hug. He pulled back and, like Amelia’s mother, held her out at arm’s length, examining her up and down. “You look so tired, honey. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Dad,” she said. “I just got back from a trip to New York, so I’m a little worn out.”

  Her dad smiled widely. “Nothing a little R&R won’t fix, then. And some champagne.” He motioned toward a waiter, who brought over a tray of champagne flutes, and we all took a glass.

  “Dad, I want you to meet Dr. Clothilde Deveraux. We work together.”

  He turned his gaze to me, and I met a pair of mischievous green eyes. I liked him immediately and knew I could count on this man and Emma as my allies for the day. He was tall and very solid, with wavy gray hair and a full, gray beard. Knowing that he must be in his sixties at least, I was surprised at how fit and healthy he looked. He didn’t resemble Amelia in almost any way except perhaps for his smile, which was equally disarming. We shook hands.

  “Ted Winters,” he said. “So glad you could join us today.”

  “Thank you for having me, Mr. Winters.” I blushed a little under his curious gaze.

  “Call me Ted. Now let me introduce you to the rest of these dunces.” He put an arm around my shoulders and steered me closer to the group nearby, all of whom were looking at me with open curiosity.

  “Hey, everyone! This is Clothilde Deveraux, Amelia’s guest. Clothilde, the one with all the munchkins crawling on him is my middle son, Robert,” Ted said.

  The younger man detached a couple of the children and stood up, holding out his hand. “It’s Bobby,” he said. We shook.

  Ted continued. “This charming couple is my oldest, Dean, and his wife Ingrid.” We all shook hands, and I could immediately see that Emma was right about Ingrid and Mrs. Winters’s similarity.

  “And this is my youngest son Michael and his girlfriend Jenna.” The three of us shook hands, and then I was able to reattach myself to Amelia, clutching her hand nervously.

  All of us stood there awkwardly for a moment
before Emma broke the tension. “Say, Bobby. Where’s Jackie?”

  Bobby’s face fell. “We broke up. She said that the kids were too much for her after all.”

  “Oh no!” Emma said, walking over to him. They took a couple of steps apart from the rest of the group, whispering together.

  Amelia moved her mouth close to my ear and whispered, “Bobby’s wife died a couple of years ago. He has three kids, so he’s been having trouble getting serious girlfriends. It’s too bad. We all liked Jackie, his last girlfriend, a lot.”

  I smiled, grateful for the context. There were, however, six children in the nearby vicinity. “Which ones are his?” I asked her.

  “All of the girls.” Amelia pointed at an older girl and two younger twins. The boys were darker and younger than the older girl, but looked older than the twins. “The boys are Dean and Ingrid’s kids. Don’t worry about any of the kids’ names this time around. They’ll probably ignore you at first.” She winked at me, and I felt grateful for the excuse to concentrate on the adults.

  “So Dean’s your oldest brother?” I asked, trying to clarify the situation.

  “Yes. It goes Dean, Bobby, Michael, then me, and finally Emma. We were all born almost exactly three years apart. My mother wanted to make birthdays easier so she could just do one big party every year. And I think she said she read somewhere that three years is the best gap between ages for siblings. She always plans everything to the minute. All of us except Emma have birthdays in the same week in January. Emma was, as they say, an accident, though of course she’s Dad’s favorite. She’s five years younger than I am.”

  “It must have been hard to arrange that with the rest of you,” I said, thinking about the logistics of planning the birth of four children so exactly.

  Amelia nodded. “My mother gets my dad to do whatever she wants.”

  Ingrid and Dean walked over to us, and I could feel Amelia tensing up. Dean was a younger version of his father except for one feature—his eyes. Instead of the cheerful, mischievous green I’d seen on the older man, Dean’s were the cold blue of his mother. His expression was blank and unfriendly, as was his wife’s.