“I know you like her, Sophie. Give her another chance.”
“If she wants another chance, she’d better give me one first. The ball’s in her court.” Sophie shifted her gaze to Alex. “What do you think?”
Alex cleared her throat. “I think you’re all grown-ups who indulge too much in teenage-like hormonal behaviour.”
Sophie burst out laughing. Nat was less amused.
“I promise she’ll call you before the end of the weekend.”
“And who are you to make that kind of promise?” Sophie refocused her attention on Nat. “Stop trying. It’s no big deal. She didn’t lie to me, didn’t behave dishonestly. And I didn’t get my feelings hurt. It was one blind date, not the end of the world.”
“But it does sting a little, doesn’t it?” Nat kept on trying. “I’ll make it right.”
ISABELLA
Isabella was more than surprised when the call came. She’d skipped body combat class on Friday to avoid Nat, but had, much against her own advice, started reading The Stranger again—not because she wanted to join the book club, but because the book belonged to Nat.
“I have in my possession,” Nat had said over the phone, her voice brimming with the Nat swag as Isabella had coined it, “Blu-ray discs of Casablanca and North by Northwest. A bottle of your favourite Bordeaux and an array of French cheeses I can never eat on my own. Care to join me on an indoor evening of decadence?”
The mixed messages swirled in Isabella’s brain. Was it a date? An apology? And if so, for what? Or was Nat lonely and needing to talk?
“How can I possibly say no to that?” It had been raining all morning and Isabella had planned a cosy night in, safely shielded from the elements. Why not spend it in charming company? All she had to do was take the elevator two floors down. And it would give her a chance to see Nat’s flat.
* * *
“I see you’re taking your vow of abstinence seriously.” Isabella presented Nat with another bottle of Bordeaux.
“At least one of us has to honour our arrangement. Otherwise, it would just cease to exist.”
“Mm.” Isabella ignored Nat’s comment. If she didn’t, she would be in for a long night of torment. “Nice place.”
Nat had obviously had work done on the place. Flats in The Ivy didn’t come equipped with wall-length book cases and white-washed floorboards. Drawn to the colourful spines of Nat’s book collection, Isabella inched closer and let a finger glide over them.
“At least you have good taste in literature.” Did she really say that out loud?
“Taste is so subjective.” Nat came to stand next to her, eyeing Kafka and Bukowski paperbacks together with Isabella. “Take the lovely Sophie for example. Ninety percent of this city’s lesbian population would jump at the chance of a date with her, but what does Isabella Douglas do?” Nat turned to her, her blue eyes already piercing through Isabella’s resolve. “She doesn’t return her calls.”
At least the mystery of the impromptu invitation had been solved. This was about Sophie.
“That’s not very polite, is it? Or is that how they do things in Scotland?” Nat continued, her gaze scanning Isabella’s face for signs of weakness—at least, that’s how it felt.
“I was still considering it.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Sophie had been pleasant enough company and she had called Isabella five times. No matter what Maddie claimed to know about Nat, she would never fall into Isabella’s arms without a long, drawn-out fight. And even if she did, then what? Isabella didn’t feel like becoming another of Nathalie Orange’s one-night-stands. She needed a distraction and, as far as distractions went, Sophie fit the bill more than perfectly.
“How about a renegotiation of our deal?” Isabella asked.
Nat stared at a shelf completely dedicated to hardcovers of Elizabeth George’s Thomas Linley mysteries. “Don’t you think With No One As Witness is one of the best crime novels ever written?”
“I wholeheartedly agree.” Isabella had trouble ignoring the image of her and Nat’s bare feet propped up on an ottoman on a Sunday afternoon. The beginning of a typhoon raging outside while they were both immersed in a book, sharing a bottle of wine between them. Out of nowhere, it had popped into her head. As if Nat were the type to engage in some gentle afternoon reading. She seemed more like someone who nursed a vile weekend hangover with another round of Scotch. Possibly something stronger. “How about I commit to at least two more dates with Sophie. I’ll call her tomorrow. And you add another week to your new way of life.”
“Well-played, Doc.” Nat gave her a half-smile. “It’s a deal. Now, can I interest you in some light snacks and beverages?”
Halfway through the first movie—North by Northwest—Nat fell asleep. First her eyelids shut, then her lips opened slightly, letting out gentle puffs of air with every breath, followed by her body sagging deeper into the cushions—and closer to Isabella. As her breathing got heavier, her bare arm slumped closer toward Isabella’s shoulder.
Oblivious to the suspense on the screen, Isabella waited patiently until that final breath, the one that would catapult Nathalie Orange, if not into, at least against her arms. She fixed her eyes on Nat’s heaving shape and waited, immobile and with a mounting tension in her muscles.
“Oh damn.” Nat smacked her lips together and hoisted herself up. She’d been so close, perhaps only five breaths away from touching. “I dozed off for a minute.”
“That was a nice snoring symphony you performed there,” Isabella joked while her blood hammered in her veins. “Do you want me to rewind?”
“Not necessary. I’ve seen this movie about twenty times. I can tell you exactly what’s going to happen in the next scene.”
“So can I, as a matter of fact.” Isabella chuckled.
“But it’s perfect for a gloomy Saturday night cheese-and-wine fest.” Nat straightened her posture, widening the distance between Isabella and her.
“Why gloomy?” Isabella could never keep herself from asking such questions.
Nat shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of time to think lately. Maybe too much. No booze, except for the occasional glass of wine.” She reached out her hand to grab her drink. “No girls. An absent flat mate. A finished first draft. It hasn’t exactly been fun and games on the forty-second floor of late.”
“It surprises me you would include a finished first draft in that list. Isn’t that a good thing?” Isabella spun herself towards Nat to better pick up on her body language.
“I love writing the first draft. Pounding out the words as if there’s no tomorrow, as if no one will ever read them. The first draft is the fun bit. It’s all bloody hard work from there. And endless as well.”
“It also sounds like a cause for celebration, though. Have you celebrated at all?”
“I haven’t been in the most celebratory of moods lately, Doc. Seem to have lost my mojo. Don’t really know what’s going on.”
Isabella witnessed Nat deflating in front of her, just like a week ago when she’d found her perched on her doorstep. As a matter of self-protection, she decided to retreat into professional mode. No almost touching of arms this time around and no succumbing to the vulnerability of Nathalie Orange. Isabella was smart enough to know that this was the Nat she had fallen for. This bruised but proud person trying to find her way, not the loud-mouthing philanderer with alcohol on her breath.
“It may take a little while before you feel better, but, trust me, it will get better.” Isabella eyed her glass of wine but thought it wiser to not drink anymore. “You’re on the right track. Changing your behaviour. Confronting yourself. You’re doing important work.”
“If I understand you right, it needs to get worse before it gets better though?” The blue in Nat’s glance had shed some of its sparkle.
“Not necessarily. Try to focus on positive things. Events you look forward to. People whose company you enjoy.” Isabella returned Nat’s broken stare with a confident smile. She realised Nat had a long way to go, and her journey was mo
re important than any hormones waging war in her own menopausal blood.
NAT
Nat woke up in the sofa at three in the morning with a blanket thrown over her body. The cheese had been transported back to the fridge. The wine bottle had a metal cork popped in its neck and the glasses and crockery awaited a wash-up in the sink. Good thing last night wasn’t a date because she prided herself on never falling asleep on a date—except when they involved sleep-overs of course, but even then she always waited until the other party nodded off first.
She dragged herself to bed and, before settling her head onto the pillow, pointed her ears towards the ceiling to check if the upstairs neighbours were getting any sleep at all. Except for the never-ending rush of cars outside, everything was silent.
Before allowing herself to drift off again, she remembered the talk she’d had with Isabella. It was so easy to confide in her. It must be her shrink vibe, as if she could see right through Nat and all her antics. As if, with her only, there was no need for pretending.
When she woke up again five hours later, hangover-free and with a surprising spring in her step, she threw the windows open and inhaled the damp air. Hong Kong always felt reborn after a good rainstorm. And it didn’t get glacially cold in November.
After a shower, Nat grabbed her laptop and made her way to The Bean for some Sunday morning surfing and, who knew, maybe some revising of her work in progress, tentatively titled In My Name.
Cindy, the barista, who reminded Nat of the lesbian writer in Underemployed with her big nerdy glasses and shy smile, couldn’t believe it when Nat showed up before ten a.m. on a Sunday morning.
“Morning, Nathalie,” she cooed, batting her dark lashes twice. “Double espresso?”
Nat nodded. A week ago she wouldn’t have hesitated. She would have inquired about the end of Cindy’s shift. She would have waited or come back when she was done working and taken her to Fortune for a drink, then back to the flat for some Sunday afternoon fondling. How easy it would be to while away another day like that. Nat had no trouble imagining exactly how good it would feel.
“Thanks, Cindy.” She planted an elbow on the counter and slanted her body sideways, looking up at Cindy with wide eyes. “Morning shift?”
“It’s not so bad on a Sunday.” The noise of the coffee machine temporarily halted their conversation. “You’re up early.” Cindy deposited a steaming green mug of coffee in front of Nat. The vapours rose up around Cindy’s angelic face, framing it as if in a feverish erotic dream.
“I knew I had to be here on time if I wanted to catch you.” Nat accompanied her statement with a broad smile.
Cindy reciprocated with a timid one.
“Can I buy you a…” Nat’s next move was interrupted by the cheery door jingle announcing the arrival of another customer. Cindy’s attention immediately shifted. She pushed her glasses high up her nose and painted a friendly smile on her face. Nat shot her a quick wink and left some money on the counter before turning to find a seat.
“Hey, Orange, ignoring’s not going to work.” Alex’s bossy fitness instructor voice cut through the coffee house’s snug Sunday morning atmosphere.
“Well, well. Look who managed to drag herself out of bed and was let out of the flat on her own on a weekend day. Shocking.”
Alex ignored Nat’s remark and kissed her on the cheek. “What happened to you?”
“Why don’t you get yourself a coffee and I’ll tell you all about it.” Nat gestured at Cindy, whose grin had gone back to displaying small signs of being smitten. Or at least interested enough.
“Where’s your woman?” Nat asked as soon as Alex sat down.
“Getting Isabella out of bed so she can join my special Sunday afternoon body combat class. I’m filling in for Jason. Want to come out and play?”
Nat peered at Cindy behind the counter. It was either body combat or break the deal with Isabella. If she lingered in The Bean on her own, she knew how it would end—the same way it always did.
“What time?”
“I wouldn’t want to keep you from more important tasks, of course.” Alex shot her a knowing smirk. “Two o’clock.”
Nat cast one more longing glance at Cindy, who was occupied serving another customer. “Sure, I’ll be there.”
“How’s your you-know-what going?” Alex leaned in closer. “And the grand Isabella-Sophie set-up scheme?”
“You’re usually not one to gossip, Pizza. What’s gotten into you?”
“I’d tell you in great detail, but I’m pretty sure you don’t want to know.”
“Don’t be so certain. At least I’d get to live vicariously through you.” Nat sighed. “Damn, that’s sad.”
“What?” Alex beamed a glorious smile brimming with sexual satisfaction. “Because for once I’m getting more than you?”
Nat bowed her head. “You said it, not me.”
“Maddie is just…” Alex leaned back in her chair, bliss written all over her face. “So amazing. She instinctively knows what I want. I don’t have to tell her. Don’t even have to hint at it.”
“I see, your affair has graduated to spanking already. I’m so happy for you, Pizza.”
A flush crept along Alex’s cheeks. “So, tell me about you.” She changed the subject.
“Well, it looks like you arrived in the nick of time. I was about to fall off the wagon.” From the corner of her eye, Nat caught Cindy ogling her.
“I thought as much.” Alex emptied her mochaccino. “Come on, I’m taking you to brunch. You’ll need the energy if you want to survive my class this afternoon.”
Nat grabbed her laptop bag and notebook and made for the door with Alex, turning around once more to shoot Cindy an apologetic look.
ISABELLA
If Isabella had known Nat would be in body combat class, she probably wouldn’t have invited Sophie. Then again, it was an excellent way to prove to Nat she was sticking to her end of the new deal. In Isabella’s mind, having Sophie join Alex’s body combat class counted as one of the two dates she had committed to. It was an inconspicuous way of spending time together. She’d attend the book club meeting next, and, depending on any sparks arising, that’d be that—and she’d have been true to her word.
Seeing them side by side, Nat with her scrawny hair and boyish looks and Sophie with her skin the colour of caramel and her wavy dark hair was, in terms of assessing compatibility, quite the eye-opener.
“Dreaming of a threesome?” Maddie whispered in her ear during a short break between tracks.
It hadn’t crossed her mind but now that Maddie had planted the seed, Isabella had trouble keeping up with the complicated hook-jab-cross combo Alex demonstrated in the front. The mere thought of it was enough to soak Isabella’s skin in another layer of sweat. After class, she had trouble forming coherent sentences. Luckily, she could blame it on the strenuous workout.
“If there’s no one else in there, the steam cabin should have enough room for the five of us,” Alex said.
“We all know Alex loves the steam cabin. It’s her favourite means of seduction,” Maddie teased. “Are you sure you want three other women in there, babe?”
“It’s good for you after a workout.” Alex hooked her arm into Maddie’s. “And don’t you dare question my motives. Or my authority.”
Isabella’s skin already felt so flustered, she wasn’t sure she could face even a minute in the sweaty cabin, certainly not if she was sitting in between Nat and Sophie. She followed along anyway. Before they walked in, steam greeting them, Maddie shot her a wink, her lips curled into a wicked grin.
Isabella chose the corner seat, next to Maddie and Alex and across from Sophie and Nat. Maybe suffer was a big word for it, but lately, she had found herself surprised more than once by a sudden flare of lust. In the five years after her marriage she’d been single, but not always celibate, although her last night of passion had occurred more than a year ago. Pre-menopausal or not, Isabella discovered her juices were still flowing.
Especially in that steam cabin.
Alex and Maddie had let their heads fall back, their pinkies touching on a spread out towel on the bench. Sophie and Nat sat grinning opposite her, Nat’s paler skin contrasting deliciously with Sophie’s exotic complexion. To sit between them now, Isabella thought, would be the hottest sandwich ever. Hottest sandwich? She must have picked that up from Nat at some point because Isabella Douglas did not use expressions like that.
Was this her moment of choice? The goods on display at their finest, skin glistening with sweat, a good deal of naked body parts on offer. They were both equally striking, each in their own way. Nat in an unassuming but über-confident manner, eyes bright blue and up for anything. Sophie with her luscious mane of hair and white-teethed smile, dimples in her chin and her relaxed, everything-will-be-all-right demeanour.
Isabella understood this wasn’t about looks. At her age, rapidly approaching fifty, compatibility was of much greater importance. In that respect, Sophie passed the test with flying colours. Nat not so much.
“Shall we go to Pierre’s later and have ourselves a well-earned piece of triple chocolate cake?” Nat asked.
“Yes please,” Maddie groaned, her eyes still closed.
“You ladies go ahead. I’d like to take Isabella somewhere special,” Sophie said, fixing her glance on Isabella, who had almost forgotten this was a date. “Maybe we can meet for drinks later tonight.”
“Oooh, have I heard of this special place before?” Nat cooed.
“Nope,” Sophie rotated her body to face Nat. “For serious dates only.” She turned back to Isabella and gave her a warm smile.
Something took flight in Isabella’s stomach, maybe butterflies, but probably just nerves. Apart from that blind date, which had turned into more of a reluctant confession of her crush on Nat, she hadn’t really been on one in years. She took a deep breath and returned the smile.
“I need to get out of here before I melt.” She stood up and headed for the door. When she walked past Sophie, Sophie stood up and put her hand on the small of Isabella’s back.
Undisclosed Desires (High Rise Novella Two) Page 3