by A. L. Duncan
Knowing he believed her to be the real Carolyn, Janie determinedly remained casual. She wasn’t about to give herself away by asking the interpretation of the Hebrew scribble on the paper. Apparently Carolyn was fluent in several languages. She set her cup down.
“Sounds simple enough.” Again she felt eyes on her and risked a glance over Sam’s shoulder.
Sam turned slightly and smirked. “I think he likes you.”
Janie frowned. “Harmless, huh?”
“He’s one of the diplomats for the British Raj, currently en route from a meeting with my supervisor at the British Embassy in Bucharest. Nice fellow. Bit of a recluse, though.”
Janie smiled and tipped the coffee to her lips. “Sounds right up your alley, Sam.”
“Rot! I desperately loathe long-distance relationships. By the by, I’m much too dashing for his tastes, I’m sure.”
“Modesty is apparently not one of your virtues.”
“Modesty happens to be one of my more contemptuous character defects I try never to pursue. I’m much more the student of narcissistic foreplay. I must say, I applaud both you and Ilene for your honest splash of inhibitions by the way,” he added dryly.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, don’t be bashful now, old cat. I am billeted in the compartment next to yours. Your...indulgences were quite audible.”
JANIE AWAKENED ILENE with a kiss. “Morning,” Janie said as Ilene’s eyes opened.
“Umm.”
“Sleep all right?”
Ilene sighed heavily. “I wish to just lie here and do absolutely nothing other than remember last night and how marvelously glorious it was.”
Janie grinned and rose to her feet. “Is that because you wouldn’t be able to handle more?”
“It would be delicious.”
Janie raised an eyebrow.
Ilene leaned up on an elbow. “You don’t take me seriously?”
“Of course, I do.”
“I meant what I said.”
“I believe you.” Janie slipped into her silk dragon robe. “I just find it funny to hear you say it in that way, I guess.”
Ilene’s smile faded. “I suppose you’ve made love to many women like that.”
“No. I haven’t. I’ve never been in love before.” She frowned at remembering the women in her past. “Until last night, I was never emotionally invested, just participating in pretty forgettable sex.” She sat beside Ilene. “You...captivated me from the moment I saw you, almost as if you were unreachable, a fantasy, and that made me want you all the more. I still tingle from touching your skin. No one’s ever made me feel that way.”
Ilene cupped Janie’s face, her eyes searching deeply before their lips met in a heated kiss. The sensation was as intense as it had been the night before. After a long moment, Janie pulled away.
“What is it?” Ilene asked.
“Train stopped. We’re in Budapest.”
Ilene moaned and stretched her arms and plopped them atop her head to lie limply like a frumpy hat. “I don’t care about Budapest, I want you.”
Janie crossed to the washbasin and splashed tepid water on her face. “We have a short layover here. I thought you’d like to visit the art museum. The bartender in the lounge car said its various collections were pretty impressive.”
“Why would I want to visit a stuffy old museum when I could spend more time in bed with you?”
“I seem to recall a somewhat vocal objection about missing all the sights and entertainments of Vienna before getting on this train.”
“All I’m saying is—”
“Oh, I know what you’re saying.” Janie toweled her face. “And I would usually jump at the opportunity, but I suggest we stretch our legs instead of turning them into noodles. We have to save our strength for Istanbul, or you’ll have no energy left to go shopping.”
“You insist on distracting me from my intentions, darling.” Ilene sighed. “I can see you aren’t taking me seriously. You are the most intriguing combination of the feminine and masculine that I’ve ever set eyes on. Any Greek sculpture we might see in a museum would not be more beautiful than your form. I have tasted something wickedly sinful, and I like it. I not only like it, I want more. Your gift to me is that I now know myself better. For the first time in my life, I know exactly what I want. I want to feel exactly the way I feel today. You, my darling, are the most succulent of forbidden fruits.”
Janie laughed heartily. “I’ve been called worse. I guess I’ve loved women for so long, I’d forgotten how it feels to experience that first exposure to such intimacy.” Janie knelt before Ilene.
“You’ve been unfeeling, you mean.”
Janie didn’t respond.
Ilene’s brow wrinkled. “I’m afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“I’m afraid this has made things between us more...difficult.”
“In what way?”
“How can I ever hide my feelings for you, my, desire for you, after what we have shared, feeling the way we do? People will surely become curious.”
Janie prodded, “By ‘people,’ do you mean to say the nosy help at Aria Manor?”
“Yes,” Ilene insisted.
Janie laughed. “Anna and Liz are beautifully naive. It would never even occur to them. A curious thing, truth. It’s the one thing no one wants to believe.” She rummaged in her bag for her medical tape and then wound it around her ribs.
“Did we injure you?” Ilene asked with concern.
Janie shook her head. “Nothing to worry about. The ribs are just a little sore.”
Ilene got up and assisted Janie with getting the wrap around her back. “What are we to do about the others once we’re back at Aria Manor? I’ve never kept any secrets from my father.”
“Oh, come on,” Janie scoffed. “You haven’t even one secret?”
“No.”
“You’ve lived all your life under your father’s roof and haven’t even told one little white lie?” Janie shook her head. “I find that hard to believe.”
Ilene’s eyes narrowed and she jerked off a strip of tape, eliciting a sharp yelp from Janie.
THE ORIENT EXPRESS was scheduled to sit in the station for several hours, which gave the crew time for minor service and the passengers a chance to visit Budapest. The Budapest Art Museum was hosting an exhibit on Roman and Greek pottery and sculpture from their cultural peaks, and Janie and Ilene had plenty of time to stroll through the rooms and view the many wonders of the ancient world.
Several women were whispering amongst themselves about the blatant male attributes of the Poseidon and Zeus nudes. Overhearing, Janie couldn’t help but comment to Ilene, “Poor devil has no more between his legs than I have in a middle finger.”
Blushing, Ilene grabbed Janie’s arm as they laughed and walked on, oblivious to the women gawking.
In another gallery, they studied Winged Victory and the Venus de Milo, admiring the line and shape of each form, now and again glancing appraisingly at one another. In front of a more modern piece of sculpture, Janie noted Ilene’s apparent awe at the artistry of the entwined figures.
“Remind you of someone?” Janie asked. “You have that look in your eye.”
Ilene quickly shook her head.
“I think you have thought of a white lie to confess to me,” Janie said in a whisper as she brushed past her. “I’m not the first woman you’ve kissed, am I?”
“Lower your voice,” Ilene murmured. “Must we discuss this now?”
“We’re alone.” Janie’s gesture encompassed the empty room. “Just you, me, and Venus. And don’t mind Venus. She’s heard this sort of talk before, you know, on an occasion or two.”
Maintaining her composer, Ilene drifted over to a piece of sculpture entitled The Rape of Andromeda. “How did you know?”
“You didn’t shy away last night. You came to me, fully aware of your intentions. You didn’t even ask how to please me.”
Ilene avoided Janie�
��s eyes. “I’ve had fantasies...”
“Fantasies always have an element of truth to them.” They moved to the next gallery. “Does your father know?”
“Absolutely not!” Before Janie could question further, Ilene added, “But that was a very long time ago. I was curiously fearless then.”
“I’m intrigued. Who was it?”
Ilene’s reply was barely audible. “A cousin.” When Janie gasped, Ilene hastily added,
“Third cousin, once removed.”
“Was she pretty?”
“Beautiful. I wanted to be like her. I wanted to do the things she had done and see all the places she had seen. We spent many Christmases and summer months together at her parents’ cottage in Somersby. It was a time when my father was often away in Africa.”
“And?”
“And,” Ilene giggled, “one Christmas we ran up to her room together and she kissed me. She said she had wanted to do that for some time. We shared her bed, as we always had, but that night we cuddled in each other’s arms.” She sighed. “I hadn’t thought of her for all these years. Certainly not before last night.”
Janie smiled warmly at Ilene’s sudden blush. “What are you thinking now?”
“How being with you ignites my desire. You’re a torch I can’t extinguish, nor do I wish to.”
An elderly couple entered the gallery, and Ilene started walking away from them. Janie paused on the opposite side of a glass case. Neither knew what treasure was displayed inside as their eyes were transfixed on one another.
A door at the far end of the room opened onto a poorly lit stairway. Janie pressed Ilene against a wall, kissing her passionately while lifting her skirt so that knowing fingers might have access.
Ilene pushed her away. “Wait,” she gasped. “What if someone sees us?”
“Do you want to worry about someone seeing us, or do you want me to touch you?”
Ilene cupped Janie’s face and answered with a hard kiss, tongue searching urgently for that tantalizing escape. That one crystallizing effect to melt them together, panting as one breath, one desire, one moan.
Ilene was wet and wanting, her excitement heightened by the possibility of being seen or heard. Mercifully, Janie’s entry was quick, and Ilene whimpered and moaned, and convulsed almost immediately.
Chapter Ten
**Review Copy Only -- Not For Sale Or Redistribution**
A LOUD WHISTLE sounded as the Orient Express picked up speed and steamed out of the station at Budapest, its passengers content to be underway. Lunch was served in the dining car to the accompaniment of Gypsy violinists. Dancers in native Romanian dress entertained those in the lounge car sipping cocktails. Janie and Ilene were among the passengers enjoying the men in puffy, silk sleeves who spun their women about. When the dance was done, musicians and dancers made a quick exit amidst joyous applause.
Later, the train had crossed into Romania through beautiful scenic villages, pastures, and rushing mountain streams. Visible through the windows were Hungarian horsemen wearing black hats and black draped sleeves riding along the tracks, escorting the train to the Romanian border.
“Oh my,” one female passenger simpered. “They look so dark and dashing, don’t they?”
“Mighty handy with those whips they’re cracking, I’d say,” said a gentleman.
“Not long ago they used to stop the trains and kidnap the women passengers to sell to slave traders,” observed a Frenchman more familiar with the area.
“Good heavens.” A British lord’s monocle dropped from a widened eye.
A woman clutched a hand to her throat. “What on earth would they do with the men?”
The Frenchman accepted his cocktail from an offered tray. “They would kill them, Madame.”
The women cooed in terror, while the gentlemen took the idea lightly, as evidenced by their snorts and laughter. One of the bolder women turned to Janie and Ilene, a devilish glint in her eye. “I dare say, I would be quite tempted to jump off this train myself if it meant a bit of lurid adventure.”
“What on earth for?” Ilene asked.
The woman gestured over her shoulder. “See that man over there—the old coot put to sleep by the dancing girls? That’s my husband. Don’t assume that he is simply relaxing because of the rigors of the trip. He’s always that way. The man wouldn’t know excitement if it socked him in the face. My life is about as dull as dishwater. There is certainly nothing in here to chase me. I might as well take my chances with those men out there. It would at least be more exciting, I venture.”
The woman wasn’t much younger than her husband. Janie mused she must have been quite lovely once. The pale blue dress still flattered her figure, as it probably had for some time. It was a dress well worn, a favorite perhaps, with noticeable fringe perilously near the end of its tether. Her vanity had been precise as to the amount of makeup used to hide the deeply grooved lines on her face. It seemed she was attempting to gain the attention of a gentleman she continued to flutter a glance at her now and again.
Janie lit a cigarette as she watched the byplay—the woman’s sly grin in response to the younger man’s gesture for her to come hither. The woman dashed the rest of her dry martini down her throat and stood, tipping her gaudy red cigarette holder in Janie’s direction.
“Light me one up, darling, won’t you?”
Janie complied by fitting her own lit cigarette into the woman’s holder.
“Well, I suppose I ought to mingle a bit,” the woman said hastily. “So many passengers, you know. All very fascinating. It was so nice to make your acquaintance. Ta.” Arm in arm, she and her apparent paramour departed moments later.
Later on, Janie’s high spirits were contagious. Everyone eventually gathered around the piano as Janie and Ilene played songs for all to sing, both grand voices and croaking attempts. It was a fine finish to a wonderful day.
THE STATION IN Istanbul bustled with passengers disembarking from the Orient Express and mingling with the life of ancient Byzantium. A sea of human motion drifted in and out of the engine’s veil of steam. The weather was clear and cold. It had snowed the night before, dusting the magnificent, aged copper domes and pointed minarets with a thin white layer. Following the crowd a few blocks farther, Janie spotted an old man with a beautifully wrinkled, dark face who stood in a rowboat and offered worry beads in every color of the rainbow. Such a beautiful and elderly face, kissed by sun and storm and etched by years on the sea. She was compelled to buy a strand, if only to witness the man’s smile.
By the time Janie and Ilene had passed the sights of the glorious Golden City and found a boat to take them across the river, it was dusk. From their boat, the two looked in awe at the most spectacular port in the world, the misted skyline silhouetted against a pale apricot horizon.
Janie and Ilene were taken by horse-drawn carriage, past gnarly trunked trees, to a thickly wooded hilltop where Haziran Palace stood in all its grandeur.
Ilene gasped. “My God, Carolyn. I had no idea.”
“Neither did I.” Janie gulped. “I hope I didn’t book the whole palace.”
Their room was decorated in an echo of the botanical ornamentation and geometrical elements they had seen in the lobby. Ilene drifted about their suite, exploring her surroundings.
“I can’t believe you did this.”
“Something, huh?” Janie murmured as she tipped the bellboy. “Thank you.”
He bowed and then departed, closing the door behind him, leaving them alone.
Ilene skimmed a finger along the edge of a dining cart draped with crisp linens, its offerings hidden under domes of silver that were ornamented with arabesques. “What have we here?” she asked eagerly.
Janie held out a small note that the bellboy had handed her. “According to this, it’s a gift. From Sam.”
“Sam? Tisdale?”
Janie nodded with pursed lips and strode over to the cart, where she read aloud, “Enjoy your stay. Dinner is on me. Sam.”
Ignoring the question, Janie picked up a cream-filled apricot. “Well, since dinner is already taken care of, it looks as though we have ample time to ‘enjoy our stay,’ as the man said.”
Janie gazed at Ilene’s bright smile and held out the apricot for Ilene to nibble. When their lips touched, Janie could taste the sweet fruit. It tasted better with Ilene’s kiss.
BY MORNING, THE bright sun’s golden hue reflected across temples, palaces, and mosques. Janie and Ilene were well on their way to enjoying the ancient wonders of the city. The women took a bike-drawn carriage, whose driver seemed not the least bit worn by his occupation as he rode them past palaces and domes before depositing them at the Grand Bazaar. Veins of alleyways pulsed with locals and travelers alike around a labyrinth of poorly lit streets that reminded Janie of New York, noise laden with the ballyhoo of peddlers selling their wares. Ilene repeatedly expressed her excitement over the fresh melons, tomatoes, and artichokes, along with other produce.
“The man in the lobby told me of a little shop in Pera that makes the best marzipan in the world,” Ilene announced.
“He told me the more languages a merchant tries, the less we should trust him,” Janie replied, her eye on a hawker.
“Really?”
After a few moments of taking in the sights, sounds, and scents of the market, Janie asked, “Are you enjoying yourself?”
Ilene sighed and slid her arm around Janie’s. “Everything anyone has ever wanted in the world is right here at our fingertips. I never would have imagined it all.”
“I suppose that was a very exuberant ‘yes’.”
Ilene laughed. “Yes, indeed, a very exuberant ‘yes’!”