by V. K. Powell
Zak took a quick drink of wine and forced herself to look at her mother. “Sorry?”
“I said, why don’t you ask the young lady to join us? I’d love to meet her.”
She struggled for an answer that would both appease Estelle and get her out of inviting Sara to dinner. Failing, she rose and motioned Sara to their table. “Would you like to join us?” Please say no. I don’t think I can sit here and look at you without touching you.
Sara’s eyes roamed over Zak and sparked with heat. Then she turned to Estelle and the fire cooled to a simmer. “I don’t want to intrude.” She turned toward another table.
Zak started to sit back down, but her mother nodded vigorously in Sara’s direction. She placed her hand on Sara’s arm and stopped her. “Excuse my manners. Sara, I’d like to introduce Estelle Chambers, my mother. Estelle, this is Sara Ambrosini.”
Sara’s jaw went momentarily slack, then a huge smile emerged. “Your mother?”
The two women shook hands as Zak pulled out the chair beside her. “Won’t you join us for dinner, please? You look amazing, by the way.”
As Sara sat, she slid her hand over Zak’s where it rested on the back of the chair. “If you’re sure it’s okay and I won’t be interrupting a long-awaited mother-daughter reunion.”
Estelle answered, “It is and you aren’t. Cheri, I love your dress. Eyelash lace is so chic and feminine. And the cut and flow of that piece suits your figure exquisitely.”
Zak moaned and took another sip of wine. “Good grief.”
Sara and Estelle looked at her simultaneously, then back at each other, and broke into a laugh that sounded like they’d been friends for years. The next three hours passed with Estelle recounting stories of her painting, her travels, and of meeting Sara’s parents. Zak listened to their friendly exchanges to distract herself from the nearness of Sara and the realization that their time together was disappearing too quickly. She had her favorite women beside her and she didn’t want to give either of them up. The thought disturbed her.
When Estelle folded her napkin and placed it delicately beside her plate, Zak rose and pulled out her chair. She did the same for Sara, and they exchanged prolonged hugs and whispered good-byes. It was a somber parting, as if they were all unsure when or if they’d meet again.
“I’ll drive you to the airport, Mother.” Zak started to make her apologies to Sara.
“You’ll do no such thing. I already have a cab waiting and my bags are loaded. Stay and entertain your guest.”
Sara gave Estelle a parting kiss on both cheeks and said to Zak, “Walk your mother to her car. I’ll wait for you in the lounge.”
As they strolled through the lobby arm in arm, Zak was comforted by her mother’s presence and the calm perspective she brought to her life. She missed the consistent influence of Estelle’s wisdom and wondered if her job had totally erased the values her parents instilled in her.
“Take care of yourself, cheri. And hold on to that one.” She nodded back toward the restaurant. “She’s a keeper.” Estelle gave her one final hug and got into the cab. Before Zak closed the door she added, “And for God’s sake, read those reports. I love you.”
When Zak walked into the Exchange Bar, Sara was at a corner table in the back with a drink and a glass of wine in front of her. “I took the liberty of ordering you another Riesling. I hope that’s okay.”
Zak smiled and sat down next to her, missing her mother but glad to finally be alone with Sara. “I probably shouldn’t,” she said before taking a hefty sip.
“Estelle says it makes you horny.”
Wine shot up Zak’s nose as she grabbed a napkin and tried to keep it from flying out in all directions. “She said what?” Sara was obviously enjoying her discomfort. To emphasize the point, she rubbed her bare foot down Zak’s thigh and up under her pants leg.
“She said Riesling mellows you out and puts you in a loving mood. I’m all for that.”
Zak took a smaller sip while searching for a safer topic of conversation. “Did you know that the Nairobi Stock Exchange started in this place in 1954 and operated here for thirty-seven years? You can’t beat the nineteenth-century décor for ambience. This is still considered the premier networking location in the city.”
Sara’s foot continued its distracting work on her leg. “Fascinating. Anything else I just can’t live without?”
Pressure was building in Zak’s crotch and the dampness had already soiled her new tuxedo pants. “Over there,” she pointed to the opposite side of the bar, “is the Wall of Fame. There are photos of the chairmen of the current top twenty companies on the Nairobi Stock Exchange.”
Sara finished her vodka tonic and stood. “Are you planning to drink that?” She motioned toward Zak’s wine.
“No.”
“Then come with me.” She offered her hand and Zak took it.
“Where are we going?”
She looped her arm through Zak’s and brought their bodies closer together. Stretching up on tiptoes, she whispered in her ear, “To my room.”
Chapter Fifteen
Sara closed her room door behind them, leaving the lights off, and led Zak to the small sofa adjacent to the balcony. She opened the door, allowing the cool breeze and street noises to rush in, then sat beside her. Touching the side of Zak’s face, she examined the darker patches that had formed on her jaw and cheek. “Do these hurt?” The memory of the officers kicking and hitting Zak as she lay on the ground tugged at Sara’s heart.
“Not really. I just had a—”
“I was at the hospital for the dedication.” Zak surveyed the room, refusing to make eye contact.
“I’m sorry you had to see that. He touched my mother. He had no right.”
“You’re a complicated woman, Zakaria Chambers, and I want so much to understand you. But I’m having a hard time reconciling your secrecy and temper with the kindness I see. It just doesn’t fit. Have you always been so reclusive and hot-headed or have circumstances changed you?” Zak picked at the cuff of her shirt but offered no immediate response. “Please, Zak, talk to me.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.” Her blue-gray eyes were pleading orbs of pain and confusion. “I can’t give you whatever it is you want.”
“You don’t even know what that is. How do you know you can’t give it to me?” Sara knew she was pushing, but her time with Zak was limited and her desire to be closer wasn’t.
“Then why don’t you tell me and I’ll be more specific about my deficiencies.”
Sara took Zak’s hand and held it between hers, forcing her to meet her gaze. “I want you to tell me something about yourself. I don’t need your entire life story, yet.”
“I’m just not very good at small talk.”
Zak’s words and tone were as unconvincing as her shifting stare. “No, you’re just very good at concealing things. And Estelle seems to be trained as well. I’ve never sat through an entire meal with a parent without hearing at least one bragging story about her child. She is obviously very proud of you and wanted to share some of your successes, but knew it wouldn’t be acceptable. She talked about herself, which appeared to be a struggle for Estelle. Whatever your secret life has become, you’ve dragged your mother unwillingly into it.”
Zak shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. “You don’t know me or my mother well enough to psychoanalyze us.”
“No, but I do know people and the nuances of behavior.”
“In a few days we’ll part company for good and I’ll be just another entry in your collection of sob stories. Trust me, you’re better off not knowing. I’m doing you a favor.”
“Do you file that under deception or hypocrisy?”
“Why is this so important to you anyway?”
Sara rose from the couch and slid the spaghetti straps from her shoulders. She mentally recited a list of adages to bolster her courage. If only those who risk are truly free and anxiety is the dizziness of freedom, she had reached a new level of enlightenment. Wh
y else would she subject herself to almost certain rejection?
“What are you doing?” Zak asked.
“Telling you why this is so important to me. I’m sure that in your world actions speak much louder than words.” She folded the laced bodice of her dress over her breasts and let the sheath slide down her body to the floor. It pooled around her feet and she stepped from it and her shoes simultaneously. She stood there naked. “I’m baring my body and my heart to you, Zak. I have all these feelings for a woman I know nothing about. Do you feel anything for me? Please, just tell me if I’m crazy.”
Time seemed to stall, locked in a freeze-frame of Zak’s steel gray stare, void of action. Sara felt raw and too exposed to endure the stillness and uncertainty. Her choices were few: retreat and give up on Zak entirely, or keep pushing until she hit a wall or rejection. Again, she chose the direct approach. She might never know more about Zak than she did at this moment, but it wouldn’t be for lack of trying. Regrets were not something she suffered well.
Zak stared at Sara’s body, silhouetted against the dim light from the street below, and struggled not to go to her at once. She’d never had a woman offer herself this completely with such unselfish abandon. Sara’s breasts were lusciously full, nipples already tight and extended. The curve of her waist and hips outlined the feminine beauty of her shape and called to Zak in a language as old as time.
“Oh, Sara.” The words Sara needed to hear threatened to choke Zak as she fought to keep them from coming out. Her body was already on fire and her mind spun with too many things she wanted to say but couldn’t justify.
Zak watched Sara step closer to where she sat on the sofa and her insides coiled with a hunger she’d forgotten she possessed. Sara reached for her hands and pulled her up so they faced each other. She shucked the vest off Zak’s shoulders and fingered loose the buttons of her shirt, lightly skimming her skin underneath. Tugging the shirttail from her trousers, she left the garment open down her chest. The night breeze ruffled the fabric back and forth against her body. Bolts of arousal shot through Zak and her nipples hardened into painful points against the cool cotton. Her pulse quickened and her breath escaped in short, needy gasps.
Partially unzipping Zak’s pants, Sara let them hang loosely on her hips. She slid her hand inside as if checking for more clothing but dipped deeper into the slick heat between her legs. Zak bucked against her hand, then pulled back, afraid of the level of her desire. Sara raised her moist fingers to her lips and licked Zak’s juices from them, moaning as she sucked each digit clean. She reached up and removed the jeweled hair comb that held her hair atop her head. The coppery waves fell across her shoulders and spilled onto her breasts. Grabbing handfuls of hair, she rubbed it over her own nipples. Still squeezing one breast, she trailed a hand down her abdomen and Zak watched it disappear between her thighs. “Animals judge people by their smells and body language. What are mine telling you, Zak?”
Sara closed her eyes and arched her back as she rhythmically stroked above the waist and below. Her breaths were coming in broken pants as her fingers slid easily back and forth over her glistening bush. Zak couldn’t take her eyes from the lithe movements that edged Sara closer to orgasm. Another throaty moan and Zak’s desire consumed her like heat scorching the desert.
“Don’t.” Zak’s vision blurred as she descended on Sara. She didn’t remember undressing as she moved toward her, but when she threw Sara onto the king-sized bed and came to rest on top of her, they were both naked. Pain stabbed between her legs and propelled her pelvis against Sara’s in voracious thrusts. Grabbing Sara’s ass, Zak forced her to meet her driving hips. She clamped her mouth over Sara’s breast and sucked, feeling as if she could drain life itself from the malleable flesh. She desperately clawed and humped, wanting only to release the spiraling energy that threatened to render her mad.
“Zak.”
Her body ached and no amount of pounding eased the pressure. She needed more from their bodies. Lowering her hand to Sara’s thighs, Zak forced her legs apart with her knees and shoved her fingers inside. Her thrusts were powerful and unyielding, her intent to satisfy Sara’s passion without being consumed by her own savage demands.
“Zak, please stop.”
The power of being in control of Sara’s body fanned Zak’s lust. This stage of desire was foreign to her and frightening in a way she refused to acknowledge. Years of stifled emotions flooded her body, insistent on liberation, and sex was the only acceptable release. She had to manage Sara’s response and still contain her own, but the more she tried, the more uncontrollable her reactions became.
“Stop, Zak!”
Zak froze in mid-stroke, hovering over Sara like an animal crouching over its prey. Sara’s expression was clouded with questions and fear. Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes. Zak rolled away from her, clutching the ache between her legs as if it could distract her from the shame she felt. Her body quivered like she’d been disconnected from life support. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.” She swung her legs off the side of the bed and buried her face in her hands.
“Things were getting a little too forceful for me. It felt like you weren’t really here.”
“I knew this was a bad idea.”
Sara scooted beside her. “This wasn’t a bad idea.”
“How can you say that? If I haven’t hurt you yet, I probably would have.”
“Would you? Hurt me?” Sara’s voice sounded scared, whispery and unsure.
Tears stung Zak’s eyes as Sara’s words stabbed at her heart. “No, never. At least not intentionally.”
Sara stroked Zak’s back in a calming manner. “Darling, tell me what happened just now.” She wiped the tears from Zak’s cheeks and placed a soft, reassuring kiss on her lips before easing her back down on the bed.
“I’m not sure.” Zak rested her head on Sara’s chest, ashamed to look her in the eyes as she tried to explain her emotional defects. “I couldn’t control what I was feeling. It was like a drug rush that I wanted to ride but knew I had to contain. It wasn’t even entirely sexual. It was more like…”
“Rage?”
The lump in Zak’s throat confirmed that Sara’s guess was on the mark. Years of suppressed resentment and revenge were finally beginning to take their toll, demanding release in some form. She raised her head to look in Sara’s eyes as she spoke, knowing that what she was about to say was important. “Yes, but not at you. Do you believe me?”
Sara held her stare, the reassurance in her eyes answering before she spoke. “Yes, I do. From what I’ve seen, you work very hard at emotional restraint. And when you do let it out, it’s usually as hostility. Years of that can stifle intimacy and sexual enjoyment.”
Zak wanted to object because she’d never had problems with sex. But it had only been sex without an emotional or intimate component. Being with Sara was different. She wanted to feel more with her, to express more, to let herself go, but giving those feelings free rein made her uncontrollable and dangerous. Was there no middle ground between her cold, calculated life and the passion that flared inside? “I should probably go.” But Sara hugged her tighter, refusing to be separated. “Sara, please. It’s best.”
“Don’t you want me?”
“Of course I do, but I can’t risk hurting you. And I can’t promise that won’t happen.”
“Let me try something.”
Sara’s fingers trailed lightly up Zak’s body and felt like sparks landing on her flesh. “What?” Zak breathed, barely able to speak.
“I don’t want you to do anything but feel and tell me what you’re feeling. Let me make you come. Can you do that?”
Before she could answer, Sara delicately traced the outline of her lips with the tip of her tongue. When Zak opened her mouth to take her in, Sara continued a teasing play across her lips and up to her eyelids. Her tongue and breath were hot on Zak’s skin and felt so light as to be almost imperceptible.
“What do you feel?”
>
“Tension. Hunger. Pain. Fear.”
“Kiss me.” Zak grabbed Sara’s face between her hands and claimed her mouth. She thrust her tongue inside, probing deeply, sucking her, wanting more. Sara gently released Zak’s grip, guided her hands back to the bed, and withdrew from the kiss. “Kiss me slowly, with your eyes open.”
Zak watched Sara’s mouth as she lowered herself for the kiss. Her lips were red and swollen, wet and inviting. When they were about to touch, Sara licked Zak’s lips, then breathed on them. Cool replaced the heat and Zak’s body shivered.
“What did you feel?”
“Fire and ice, more hunger, lots of pain.”
When their lips met, Zak held Sara’s liquid brown gaze as a series of emotions flashed as if on a screen. Surprise accompanied their initial contact, followed by joy as the kiss deepened. Subsequently desire took over, and finally raw hunger before she withdrew. Zak felt a connection she’d never experienced as the kiss flowed through her like a shot of hundred-proof liquor, powerfully strong and slowly spreading its warmth. “So hot. Like I’m melting inside.”
Sara kissed her way to Zak’s ear, tongued the rim, and probed inside. “I’m going to make you come harder than you ever have,” she whispered. “You want that, don’t you?”
“God, yes. Do it now.”
“Not yet, baby. Just feel it, slow and easy.” She left a tongue trail of wet and chilly kisses on Zak’s skin as she worked her way over to her breasts. Sucking a nipple into her mouth, Sara ground it gently back and forth between her teeth.
“Harder,” Zak pleaded.
“What does this feel like?” Sara asked, her mouth still around Zak’s breast.
“Teasing my clit. Not hard enough.” Zak tried to control the labored pace of her breathing, but Sara’s ministrations were making concentration impossible.
“Easy does it, love. Pleasure doesn’t have to hurt to feel good.”
“I need to feel it.” Zak grabbed her other breast and squeezed the soft flesh up to the tip like a Popsicle. When she reached the nipple, she pinched it between her thumb and forefinger and her pelvis pumped the air in response.