by Lee Winter
Fear blasted through her. Alison’s carotid artery pushed back against the rigid fingers as it fought to supply her brain with vital blood. She became light-headed as the pressure increased. Natalya leaned over her, her face filling her entire range of vision, and studied her coolly. “It’s not my danger that thrills you?” Natalya repeated. “Are you so certain?”
Alison gasped, and her slick hand stilled between her legs. She lifted it hastily to her throat to pull Natalya’s hands away. Instead Natalya shook her head abruptly.
“No,” Natalya said. “Stopping now will defeat the object of the game. It’s all about trust and danger.”
Alison understood then. She’d heard of such things—blood chokes. Best orgasms ever—supposedly. She searched Natalya’s eyes, hoping to find something that said she knew what she was doing. That this was not some sick excuse to kill the woman who’d been threatening her all over the news. That would be poetic justice, all right. Fucking to death the cop who loved her.
Natalya’s hot breath shifted the hairs on her cheek. Alison stared helplessly up. Her hand had already decided. She slid it back down her body and rubbed herself tentatively. Her nerve endings lit up with the heightened sensation.
“Good girl,” Natalya said. “And you’ll thank me in a minute.”
Alison had been near the edge before, and it wasn’t long before the tremors began to take over. Her thighs began to lock and shake.
She remembered Natalya’s mocking warning: There are no safe words with me. Her fear returned but before she could panic, the pressure eased at her throat. Suddenly a rush of blood flooded through her.
Her back arched.
“That’s it,” Natalya husked, running her lips across her ear. “Come for me. Now.”
Alison crashed over with a strangled sound. Then she was floating. The sensation was nothing she’d ever experienced before—a high that left her dizzy and in a haze.
She lay, panting and sated in a dreamy state staring at her ceiling, trying to catch her breath.
Once she’d recovered, she slid her eyes across to the woman lying beside her, looking well pleased with her efforts.
“It’s you.”
“What is?” Natalya asked.
“It’s not your danger,” she said. “It’s none of that. That’s the window dressing. The kick-ass package you come in.” Her gaze met Natalya’s, willing her to believe her. “But it’s you I love.”
A strange expression flashed across Natalya’s face. Alison inhaled deeply and then rolled to her right side to study her properly.
Natalya was still immaculately dressed. It was so infuriatingly uneven.
“Kiss me,” Alison demanded, suddenly anxious to redress the balance.
“No,” Natalya said. “I don’t…” She faded out. “I never kiss.”
Alison pushed herself up into the sitting position, feeling a telltale tug between her legs that told her she’d been fucked to hell and back in the most satisfying of ways.
But still it wasn’t enough.
“Take off your clothes then,” she said. “Because this is my turn.”
There was an almost insolent pause in the way Natalya stared. Alison swallowed, afraid of how shitty and used she’d feel if Natalya just laughed at her and left. She almost saw those words forming on Natalya’s lips: That she didn’t do that.
No. Alison couldn’t bear to hear it. Not after everything they’d just done, or the fifty ways Natalya had reshaped the definition of what pleasure meant for her.
“Please,” Alison tried again, softer. “I’d really like to see you, too.”
Natalya didn’t comment but she rose from the bed and shed her clothes without preamble. She folded each item neatly and placed it on a chair. She was left in black boyshorts and a sports bra. Then she returned to the bed.
Alison avidly studied her. “You’ve had a busy life,” she said trailing fingers over the nicks and scars she found.
Natalya looked down at herself. “It’s been diverting,” she agreed.
Alison slipped her fingers into her long black tresses. She was struck by the effect of it out of its trademark plait. So beautiful. Natalya was breathtaking. A woman in her prime. Muscled, powerful. So strong. She was an apex predator. And she was Alison’s for the taking.
She shivered.
Well, she had hopes at least.
“Take off your bra,” Alison ordered, her shaking voice undermining the command.
Natalya paused but turned away and slid the sports bra over her head. She turned back slowly, prolonging the reveal until the last moment. Then she held it up and let it drop to the floor. Like a challenge.
She waited for a reaction.
Alison let her gaze roam the sensuous curves unveiled. Her breasts were larger than she’d guessed, but they suited her frame and the broadness of her shoulders. Then she took in a delightful sight. Natalya’s nipples were rock hard.
“Your panties. Off,” Alison croaked.
Natalya ignored this and instead reached down and pulled aside the crotch of her boyshorts, exposing a dark thatch of hair.
Alison held her breath at the sight of wetness glimmering in the light. The realisation she’d caused that was heady.
“I want to taste you,” Alison said. “Make you come so hard you lose control.”
“One does not mean the other,” Natalya warned softly. “I do not lose control.”
She widened her legs but then said: “You can look but not touch.”
“What? No!”
“Yes,” Natalya said. “But I’ll give you a taste.”
“Oh come on! That’s not fair.”
“No,” Natalya agreed with a smirk, sliding off her boyshorts. “But you’ll do it anyway.”
“What makes you so sure?” Alison asked, glaring.
“Because you’re dying to watch me touch myself,” Natalya taunted. “And nothing on earth could make you leave this bed right now.”
Alison flushed dark red. “You don’t know anything,” she muttered.
Natalya’s smug look said Alison wasn’t convincing.
With eyes fixed on her, Natalya slid her fingers inside herself and began to rock gently. She made small, faint sounds as she buried herself in the task.
She lifted up a little, giving Alison a better view.
“Oh my God,” Alison groaned. “Jesus, Natalya.”
The base of Natalya’s hand pressed against her clit and her breathing changed. Her eyes began to close.
“What are you thinking about?” Alison demanded. “Right now?”
“The way you looked at me,” Natalya whispered, “when I was inside you, when you were mine.”
“I still am,” Alison said as Natalya’s fingers reach feverish pace. “All yours.”
“I know.”
Vulnerability flashed across Natalya’s face and in that moment she spasmed, trembled, and tilted her head back briefly.
Natalya sat up and offered her hand to Alison.
“A taste.”
Alison huffed out a breath.
“Only if you want,” Natalya said with a shrug.
Alison wished she had the willpower to refuse. Instead she greedily devoured the fingers and discovered the unique flavour that was Natalya. It was not at all what she’d expected. Gentle, sweet, with the faintest edge of piquancy.
Natalya looked like an overfed cat, well pleased with its bowl of cream. She might not have lost control but she’d enjoyed herself—that much was clear.
Alison bit into the fingers mischievously.
Natalya’s hand retracted swiftly and she gave her a playful swat. “Since when do mice have such sharp teeth?” she demanded archly.
“Since when do cats not let mice play with them?” Alison retorted. “Come on. I want to get my hands on you. All of you.”
Natalya didn’t speak immediately but it was like a shutter had gone down. When she did speak, her tone was flat.
“You know I am returning to Euro
pe for good this time. I won’t be back.”
Whatever she’d expected her to say, that wasn’t it. Alison felt deflated.
“I know.”
“This was all there ever could be.” The words were more forceful than needed and Alison gave her an indignant look.
Natalya glanced at her folded clothing on the chair, and Alison’s heart sank. Over already.
Natalya rose from the bed. The play of her muscles made her look like some lethal yet stunning goddess. A goddess Alison would like to worship a few more times, or a few more decades.
“Why did she have to be you?” Alison muttered, not intending to speak aloud. “It’s not fair.”
“She had to be someone, Alison. There is no force of power on earth—no warlord, drug baron, gang leader or arms dealer—who can stay in business for long without an enforcer at their side.”
“There’s a depressing thought. I still wish things were different.”
“You’ll be fine,” Natalya said. “Look at you. I told you to eat life. You sat down at the banquet table and ate ten courses. You’ve shown them all.”
“I don’t care about them. It’s you. I’ll never forget you.”
“Of course you won’t.” Natalya smiled not unkindly. “How could you?” She leaned forward and her fingers trailed Alison’s cheek for a brief moment. It was the most tender thing she’d done to her all night. “Try, though, because I can’t change.”
Alison’s heart lurched again. She knew that. But still, it hurt.
“It’s funny,” Natalya added, as she slid her underwear on. “People look at you and see the flaws—the small handful of chipped pieces you have because you never bother to hide them.
“They look at me and see only the confidence, the mask. They never see the thousands of pieces shattered on the floor.”
Alison stared at her in surprise.
“Underneath we are the perfect opposites of what we appear,” Natalya mused. “I’m broken; you’re solid. So seek out someone else who is solid; someone who can love you back and be what you need.”
She slid on her pants and tightened the belt.
“Did you never feel anything for me?”
Alison definitely didn’t mean to ask that. It was embarrassingly needy. They’d already set the rules for this evening. This wasn’t even on the cards.
“Haven’t you been listening?” Natalya asked archly, pulling on the rest of her clothes. “I’ve told you so many times, in so many ways. You already know the answer.”
She fixed her long hair into a ponytail with a sharp jerk and moved into the lounge to pack up her cello.
Yeah, Natalya had, so many times: I don’t do love.
Alison padded out to say goodbye. Natalya paused at the door, cello case in hand. No words. They just held gazes and then she turned and was gone.
The soft click of the apartment door echoed around the room.
Alison’s eye fell to the USB drive on the coffee table. She pulled out her laptop, plugged the stick in, and hit play.
The source of Natalya’s amusement became immediately clear. Alison listened to the track for its entirety, then opened her calculator app, tapping in the length of the song, converting it to seconds.
Of course.
She closed her laptop and stared at it, her mood darkening. She removed the USB drive and flung it against the wall.
Natalya had given her a track with nothing on it but silence. 1935 seconds of silence, to be exact. Arvo Pärt’s birthday. So, silence remained perfection for her—because no human could ever mess that up.
The absence of emotion was perfection to Natalya.
Didn’t that just say it all? Natalya really didn’t care.
Well, she’d just have to do what the great Requiem had suggested and get on with life. She knew how to now, ironically, thanks to the woman who’d just let her down somewhat gently. Alison was stronger than she ever had been. Confident. She even walked taller.
But still, her heart ached and futile tears sprang to her eyes.
Moving on with life without Natalya? Love or not, how does anyone ever forget someone like that?
She smiled in spite of herself through the shimmer of tears.
What a stupid bloody question.
Epilogue
The crowd at the experimental music club grew hushed as the spotlight fell. Alison stepped out onto the stage, biting her lip anxiously and hit play on her CD player. The low murmur of didgeridoos began, and she placed her violin under her chin, closed her eyes and started to play.
She was instantly there. This piece always reminded her of colours. Empty blue skies that stretched endlessly. Streaks of red of the desert earth. Orange of the rock outcrops. Green of spiky spinifex grasses after the wet season.
The movement shifted. There was the pang of loss and broken dreams of the elders. Her violin soared across the high notes as it reached its crescendo. She opened her eyes and her gaze shifted, as it always did, to the back, right corner.
Sometimes, just once or twice, she could have sworn she’d seen a shadow. The figure of someone who should not have been there. Of course it was illogical Natalya would be in Australia at all when the GOU and the Homicide Squad had been closing in on every last member of the gangs. But sometimes Alison wondered if it was her she’d seen. Watching her. Or watching over her—like some hard-ass avenging angel.
She almost laughed at her overactive imagination. Natalya was in Europe. Permanently. Fulfilling her lifelong Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra dream. Alison had read they were touring Spain and Italy now. Getting rave reviews—not that she was surprised.
After her performance, and a few rousing claps from the small crowd, Alison packed away her violin, musing on how life had changed in recent years.
It had taken eighteen months of running the GOU but it was pretty much all over. Alison and her team had decimated the Victorian crime gangs. Oh, they weren’t all gone, she knew, but their backs had been broken.
The last of the worst of them had been some sneaky little cockroach called Saliya “Sal” Govi who’d filled the vacuum at Fleet Crew after Lola was killed. The special ops team had picked him up in a raid just that morning.
Alison was ready for a change. Truthfully, she was ready for a lot of things. She’d tried to do what she’d promised herself. Tried to go out and live life. Tried dating and getting out of her comfort zone. She’d partied, wined, dined, danced, played the violin, had drinks with the boys from work who were still essentially assholes, but at least not to her anymore. She’d done everything else in between. Everything she thought she was supposed to do.
It had been eye-opening in some ways, but empty in others.
The truth was, no one had come even close. The shadow Natalya cast was unparalleled. Of course the maddening woman was right: They could never be a thing. But still.
She wanted.
* * *
Alison hadn’t heard from Natalya since the day they’d been intimate a little over a year ago.
A six-figure sum had lobbed mysteriously into her bank account marked only “Refund” and that had been that. She’d checked the date and was relieved the payment had been made before their “farewell fuck.” That would have been too much to take. She was no one’s paid lay.
Alison knew what she really was at the end of the day: A loose end. Something to be neatened, tied up.
Nonetheless, every day Alison carefully watered and tended Natalya’s African violet and thought about what she would never have.
It was futile, actually, caring for someone who’d left her with 1935 seconds of silence to sum herself up. A brilliant, deadly creature who loved empty, silent perfection, and felt nothing.
She sighed and gathered her things, heading for the exit.
“Great work tonight,” the barman called out to her.
Lou. He was nice. Kept trying to set her up with his sister.
She gave him a wave and a smile and stepped outside only to find it was r
aining softly.
God, that brought back memories.
She pulled her jacket’s collar up and ran for her car. She watched for puddles as she ran, so she didn’t see the shadow standing by her vehicle until it suddenly moved.
She bit back a gasp and assumed an aggressive posture.
“I wouldn’t try it on,” she growled. “I’m a cop.”
“Easy little mouse,” came a low drawl. “I’m well aware of your unappealing occupation. It’s me.”
God how she had missed that voice.
“Natalya?”
The shadow took a step forward, angling itself so Alison could see its features in the street lamp.
Natalya came into sharp relief and smiled unexpectedly, sucking all the oxygen out of Alison’s lungs. Her treacherous, thudding heart set up a painful beat.
“You were wonderful tonight. And last night.”
Alison blinked at her. “You watched me play?”
Natalya’s lip curled instead of answering.
“Are you back in Melbourne?” Alison asked. “For good, I mean?”
“No. Just for a little while. I thought about something while I was overseas. Something I might ask.”
“Oh?”
“I was wondering if you’d consider trying the world’s best paella. I’ve found a place that has no rival.”
Alison’s mouth fell open.
“You want me to…go to Europe with you?”
“If you’re done savaging the gang of four, that is. And my informants tell me you are.”
Alison was startled she knew that; very few did. Then she remembered Natalya knew far more about the gangs than any police taskforce would uncover in a lifetime of investigating. Natalya had literally grown up with them.
“Why are you asking?”
“I’ve spent the past year picking apart all the many ways music made sense to me and all the ways that I exist in this world. Whether I can do one effectively without the other. Do you know what I learned?”
Alison shook her head.
Natalya’s voice softened as she regarded her. “That there is something to be said for having someone, just once, look at you with love in their eyes.”
“You care about love now?” Alison eyed her sceptically. “Since when? Why now?”