Flesh and Bone

by Ronica Black

  “Not really.”

  “So make it up to me.”

  Julia raises an eyebrow as Sam slips back into her cold, damp coat.

  “Come home at a decent time tonight. And spend the weekend with me.” She stuffs her bra and panties into her book bag, along with her iPod.

  “Okay. I will.”

  Sam shivers and stands before her. They exchange another soft kiss.

  “I love you so much,” Julia says.

  “I love you too.”

  Julia glances at the candles. “What about those?”

  “Keep them. They smell good and they’ll remind you of me.” Sam picks up the rose. “Along with this.” She presses it lightly to Julia’s lips. “Save it always.”

  “I will.”

  Sam walks away, tears in her eyes. When she reaches the door, she turns and smiles.

  “See you tonight.”

  Julia nods, rose under her nose. “Tonight. And forever.”

  Sam tugs the door open and Vinny nearly stumbles in. He smiles and greets her but then suddenly blushes profusely. Sam leaves him confused and walks in a daze to the elevator where she rides alone to the lobby.

  There are a few people coming and going, but it is still with quiet.

  She holds her head high, her coat moist and teasing against her bare skin. Her insides feel as though they’ve melted and the heat radiates outward, keeping her warm. She smiles at the man who holds the door for her, and when she steps out into the clear, crisp breeze, she looks straight up once again.

  The sky is healed, the sun strong, screened by a bright blue sky.

  The street hums and buzzes, people walking, talking, hurrying.

  It is a beautiful day.

  S is for Sensual

  “Come on, come on,” Stephanie urged, grabbing hold of Camille’s arm to tug her up next to her. Satisfied, she faced the door, threw her shoulders back, and rapped three times. Then she paused, rapped two more times, paused again, and gave another three raps. She grinned at Camille as if she’d just communicated with life on Mars. Her eyebrows wiggled in a “you’re not going to believe what I just told them” sort of way.

  Camille knew that look all too well. They’d been in Amsterdam a total of four days, and she’d seen and done more in those four days than she’d done the past four months. Her friends weren’t letting anything pass them by, including time itself. But this, Camille looked around at the quaint little house nestled on a quaint little street. This place seemed a little too normal. In fact, if it weren’t for the presence of the always wheeling and dealing Stephanie, Camille just might want to relax on that bench they’d just walked past in the lush, beautiful garden and have a strong cup of Dutch coffee with whoever lived here.

  But Stephanie’s wink sucked that little dream right out of her head. Something was going on. And why hadn’t Crystal and Renee come along?

  The doorknob clicked and turned and Stephanie bounced on the balls of her feet. Camille’s heart rate accelerated a little as the door was pulled open to reveal a petite blonde with shoulder-length hair wearing a sleeveless white silk blouse and worn blue jeans. A quiet contradiction. Her smile was warm and friendly and her makeup was minimal. She waved them inside with soft hellos and welcomes.

  Stephanie bounded in with a toothy grin and then turned to extend her arm toward Camille. “This is my very good friend, Camille,” she said, as if Camille had not only landed on Mars but had actually flown the spacecraft herself after years of elite training, thus deeming her the best pilot on all of earth itself.

  The woman eyed Camille quickly and gave her a soft but curious smile, extending her hand.

  “Welcome. My name is Anna.” Her accent was heavy but her voice light and pleasant. Her eyes were prettier than blue ice. Deeper.

  Camille shook her hand and found it equally as warm and pleasantly firm. Nothing was worse than a limp handshake.

  “Cammy. Call me Cammy, please,” she stuttered. Anna only smiled, and Stephanie all but bounded right back out the door.

  “I gotta go,” she said, eyes suddenly fastened on her cell phone.

  “What? Wait,” Camille said, stepping to follow her. But Stephanie jerked her head up, shaking it.

  “No. You stay here. I’ll be back to get you in a few hours.”

  “A few hours?” Suddenly that beautiful garden just outside the front door seemed dangerous and alive, anxious to swallow up the house and all those inside. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” Stephanie grinned. “Just trust me, okay? You wait here. Anna will take good care of you.” When Camille said nothing, Stephanie’s grin faded. She looked serious, and serious for Stephanie was rare. “Come on, Cammy, you need this.”

  “Need what?”

  “This.” Stephanie almost whispered it. As if it were a secret and she didn’t want Anna to know.

  “What is this exactly?” Camille was more confused than ever and she was starting to feel more than a little anxious.

  Stephanie sighed. “Just stay, okay? I’ll be back in a while.” She held Camille’s eyes a little longer and then exited, cell phone pressed to her ear, Nike Shox pressing on the stone path back through the garden.

  Camille was about to chase her when Anna spoke.

  “Is fine,” she said softly, touching Camille on her forearm, forcing her mind back from Stephanie. Anna pushed the door closed and took her hand. “Come.”

  They headed left and into a roomy sitting area where two large chairs flanked the hearty stone fireplace. A hand-stitched pillow sat centered in each chair. One said “liefde” and the other said “ontwaken.” She didn’t know what either meant and she wished she had her pocket dictionary, but Stephanie had insisted that she bring nothing.

  “Please sit,” Anna instructed. Camille eased herself into one of the chairs and held the “wak” pillow in her lap. Anna disappeared around the corner into what Camille assumed to be the kitchen. She heard dishes clanking as she studied the room. The floor resembled the fireplace, only with larger, more flush stones. A red hand-stitched rug with an Indonesian influence sat in the center, accenting the related artwork and pieces on the nearby furniture.

  On a colder day, Camille could easily imagine the room flickering with warm fire and smelling of freshly cut wood and apricot brandy. As if reading her mind, Anna returned carrying a thick glass. She handed it over carefully, as if it were valuable in ways Camille wasn’t aware. It was chilled, and as Camille sipped she realized it was Coca-Cola and jenever. She’d tried the local spirit their first day in Amsterdam and she recognized it immediately.

  It was strong, but Camille welcomed it, not realizing just how thirsty she was from their bike ride over, weaving through the maze of canals and tourists.

  Anna watched her closely and encouraged another series of drinks by tipping the bottom of the glass with the pad of her index finger. It was a delicate gesture, deliberate and slow. As if Anna were offering her finger along with the drink. Camille obliged, taking a few more generous sips, but she cautioned herself, still feeling the effects of the half pints of beer she’d had earlier.

  “You are hungry?” Anna asked.

  “No, no, thanks. I had some uh, patats earlier. Those French fry things?”

  Anna nodded and encouraged another drink.

  When she was finished she held the glass out for Anna, who placed it on a nearby end table. Then she held her hand out for Camille. They stood and Camille followed her slowly to the steep staircase. They ascended slowly, the old wood creaking underfoot. Camille tried to imagine where they were headed, but she could come up with no answers. Her head swam with liquor and her body ached from days of bike riding and walking and sleeping in a cozy little hostel on a hard bed.

  She knew she should be reserved and concerned about what she was doing there, but her current state of warm fuzziness and fatigue wouldn’t allow it.

  The floor creaked on the second level as well as they walked a short way to a bathroom. Anna flicked o
n the light and shoved a towel and washcloth into her arms.

  “Now you bathe.”

  Camille stared at the single sink, toilet, and small standing shower. “Excuse me?”

  “Do it and do it quickly.” Anna walked to the shower and turned on the water. Steam rose and floated to Camille.

  She started to ask why, but Anna shoved a folded satin robe in her arms on top of the towel.

  “Hurry. I explain later.”

  She left Camille dumbfounded, closing the door behind her. Camille stared a moment longer through the steam and then she disrobed and stepped into the hot water. It felt wonderful on her exhausted muscles and she could’ve stood there for days if not for Anna’s instructions to hurry. So she soaped herself generously and washed her hair. After rinsing, she emerged, dried herself, and slipped into the robe. She folded her clothes and opened the door.

  Anna was waiting. She took the clothes and tossed them down a laundry chute behind a small door in the wall of the bathroom. Then she took Camille’s hand and led her across the hall to a large room facing the back of the house. Anna pushed open the door and encouraged Camille to enter. The room was plush with thick, deep maroon carpet, silk-covered walls, low lamplight, and various lush-looking lounges in shades of soft cream. It smelled of warm spice, just enough to comfort and not overwhelm. A very large screen partition covered the far right corner. Camille’s gaze fell back to Anna, who moved to the antique bureau where she began lighting candles and arranging bottles of what appeared to be oil.

  Then she moved to the one window and firmly closed the blinds. The room flickered in golds, as if alive and breathing. Camille stood in the center, turning and looking. Her brain dizzied and she rubbed her temple, overcome with the urge to lie down on one of the lounges and sink to a fast, heated sleep.

  But in a flash it seemed Anna was back at her side, hand coasting lightly up and down Camille’s arm. She touched her face and then trailed her hand down to her neck. Heat surged to the surface of Camille’s skin, along with chill bumps. She was hot and cold at the same time. A contradiction. Just like Anna’s blouse and jeans.

  Anna smiled, as if she’d heard Camille’s thoughts. She held Camille’s face in her hands.

  “Is okay.” Her eyes were sparkling in the wavering light. Like light through a deep blue prism. She moved her hands lower, running them over the robe. Up and down, soothing her, so much so that Camille closed her eyes. Anna leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her cheek, then her neck, and then breathed in and out with warm breath.

  “Is okay, Camille. You’re okay.” Her fingers went inside Camille’s robe. Hot skin on skin and Camille breathed in deeply. Her mind spun and her body surrendered, allowing Anna to slip the robe off her body.

  They both stood still, inhaling and exhaling. Camille opened her eyes, felt her bare chest delight and then tighten under Anna’s gaze. She tried to speak, but her lips were full and tingling. Anna’s hands started again, running up and down, ever so lightly and then all over, firmer and quicker.

  Camille shuddered and inhaled sharply. Her nerve endings were working despite her prominent buzz. She squeezed her legs together, a new sensation pulsing between them. Lust. Want. Desire.

  Things she hadn’t felt in so long. What was happening?

  “There,” Anna said. “You are beautiful. And you are ready.” She took Camille’s hand and led her to a lounge, one that was completely flat, and encouraged her to lie down.

  The lounge seemed to embrace Camille as she lay back slowly. Anna stroked her face and Camille exhaled fully, falling into the imaginary arms of the lounge.

  “Close your eyes,” Anna whispered. “Good girl.”

  Camille willed her body to relax. She heard Anna move to the far right corner of the room and then, just as she was about to set to sea on her comfortably rocking boat, she heard the door open.

  There was whispered movement, soft breathing, and then strokes to her face again. A warm body sat flush against her right leg, and when a new voice sounded, Camille opened her eyes.

  “Hello, Camille.”

  The voice wasn’t Anna’s and neither was the face. Camille blinked, then blushed and tried to sit up.

  “No, don’t,” the woman said gently, pressing Camille’s shoulder. Her accent was different from Anna’s, her voice deeper and more exotic, matching her eyes, which were a mesmerizing hazel. Light blue with a warm brown circle around the pupils. Like a marble, meeting but not melding.

  “Call me Cammy,” was the only thing she could think to say.

  A grin lifted a corner of her mouth. “I like Camille.” Her face was angular yet beautifully feminine with a strong jaw, straight Roman nose, and full but imperfect lips. A small dark freckle danced above them when she spoke, teasing.

  Camille blushed again, this time feeling it all the way down to her bare chest. Her nipples contracted as if the air itself were pinching and tugging them upward.

  The woman’s eyes flicked over them and returned to Camille’s face. The grin eased, but her eyes looked different, like someone had struck a match beneath the surface, lighting them.

  “I am Maria,” she said, her voice rich and assaulting, sprinkling over Camille’s bare skin.

  Camille tried to calm her breathing, to cool her heated skin, but nothing worked. Maria was sitting next to her, watching her, visually tasting and consuming her, setting her body afire without a single touch.

  “You are not what I expected,” Maria said, grinning again, showing Camille a row of white teeth. One tooth sat slightly over another and Camille found it beautiful and natural. She didn’t like perfection when it came to beauty. She liked women. Real women.

  “You expected me? I mean, I didn’t even know where I was going, or even where I am.”

  Maria watched her closely and then ran a hand through her dark-as-midnight hair. It was sharply layered and rested just below her shoulders, showing off the elegant but strong column of her neck.

  She stood, showing Camille that she was taller and more muscular than Anna, and walked to the bureau. She cinched the belt on her long satin sky blue robe and rifled through one of the top drawers for a cigarette. Bending, she lit it from the wick of a candle and inhaled sharply. When she exhaled, she spoke.

  “I expected you to be smaller. Weak looking. Like a mouse.”

  Camille sat up and hugged herself. “I don’t understand.”

  Maria crossed to the window and opened it. She smoked some more.

  “You let your girlfriend of ten years sleep around on you. You knew and you did nothing.”

  Camille shook her head. “I—”

  But Maria interrupted. “So you break up with her. Finally. But you aren’t able to move on. Why is this?”

  Heart pounding, Camille tried to think, to speak, to rationalize. “I can’t stop thinking about her, about things.”

  “So go back to her,” Maria said, waving a hand.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t trust her.”

  Maria pointed the cigarette at her. “Okay then.” She took one last inhalation and then tossed it out the window. Then she closed the pane and walked to Camille.

  She tilted her chin up and stared deep into her eyes.

  “It is time to let go, then.”

  “How do you know so much?” Camille whispered.

  “Because I’m the one who’s going to fix it.”

  Camille swallowed, her throat tight with emotion and an anxious curiosity. “How?”

  Maria’s hand slid over the satin of her own robe to the belt. With a firm tug she loosened it and the robe slid from her shoulders and fell to her feet, revealing a black, shiny leather corset. Laces wove up the center leading to sheer covered breasts. Camille stared at her with lust and wonder. Her heart thumped loudly and she could feel it pounding in her neck.

  “Like this,” Maria said, gliding her hand along Camille’s jaw, pulling her up to stand. Maria bent her head and parte
d her lips. The kiss was sudden and powerful, taking Camille completely by surprise.

  Maria’s lips were thick and warm, wet and smooth. They conquered quickly, taking and sucking Camille’s as if they were starving for her and only her.

  Maria tasted of the clove from her fragrant cigarette. Warm and spicy, like an embrace in the coldest and loneliest of worlds. Her scent was something different, something familiar like CK One. Musk, amber, rose, violet, and bergamot. Crisp and clean, yet tantalizing with a hint of masculinity.

  Camille groaned softly and felt her knees go weak. Maria supported her, held her tight, and encouraged her with a thrust of her tongue. Camille responded with her own, surprising herself. They held fast, tongues swirling aggressively, Maria’s hands grabbing her ass and back, squeezing as they moved up and down. A flash of heat and a flood of moisture shot between Camille’s legs and she found herself aching and throbbing and trying to press against Maria’s thigh.

  But Maria’s hand seemed to know this, gliding quickly down Camille’s abdomen. When it reached her flesh, fingers slid into her folds, causing her to yelp with pleasure and shock. Maria stroked her quickly, all four fingers exploring, and then she pulled her hand away, along with her mouth.

  She left Camille breathless and dizzy.

  “You are ready,” Maria said.

  Camille swallowed and caught her breath. “Why do you both keep saying that?”

  To her right Anna reappeared from behind the partition causing Camille to look twice. She wore a matching black corset, deep red lipstick, and her thick golden hair was swept back into a tight ponytail. Gone was her friendly smile. Her eyes still burned, but her jaw was set and her cheekbones sharply defined. Camille couldn’t help but stare.

  Anna met her gaze briefly but her expression did not change. She handed Maria a tasseled flogger and then returned to the partition. Camille watched as she pushed it together and moved it, exposing a tall black crucifix-looking object with extra arms and legs. She stared at it in confusion until Anna began adjusting the cuffs on each end.

  Camille inhaled quickly and swayed. Maria’s hand gently gripped her upper arm. She smiled. Camille shook her head and sat.