Suspect Passions

by V. K. Powell

  “You’re really on the edge tonight, aren’t you? Let’s don’t waste time.” She opened the car door, slid the front seats completely forward, folded them over, and waved Syd in. Once they were settled in the back, she kissed the side of Syd’s neck and the sensitive lobes of her ears. She massaged her usually responsive inner thighs, ran her hand up the inside of Syd’s camisole, and cupped her unencumbered breasts. “I love your tits. They’re perfect. Perfect size, perfect nipples, perfect taste. Just perfect.”

  “I’m glad you approve,” Syd lied convincingly. “Enjoy them all you want.” She just wanted to feel that rush of excitement surge through her and take her away from the idly rambling thoughts of her wayward mind.

  Dana stripped off her two-piece outfit with practiced ease, scooted Syd down on the seat, and knelt between her legs. “It makes me so hot when you say that. I’m already wet.” She slid a finger between her legs and raised the slick, shiny appendage to prove her point. “See.”

  Syd closed her eyes and willed herself into the physicality of the moment. Dana’s hands were rough against the smoothness of her breasts, not soft and worshipping like Regan’s. She told herself she liked the contrast, but her body disagreed. Her nipples refused to pucker even slightly. She circled her hips and pelvis against Dana’s thigh, hoping to stir the flame that always burned there. Dana raised Syd’s garment and lowered her head to her breast. Her mouth was hot and inviting. Her tongue expertly stroked and teased, but still no response. Dana didn’t seem to notice, her own excitement building.

  “Oh, God, Syd. Will you touch me, please?”

  Syd reminded herself that this was what she did. She loved driving women crazy until their need for her was so great that they begged for release. It was a powerful feeling of control and a most seductive aphrodisiac. But tonight her body refused to cooperate. No amount of foreplay or pleading from Dana could compel her into arousal. And Syd knew why. Her hands were not Regan’s. Her mouth was not Regan’s. Dana was not Regan, but that’s who Syd kept seeing, as much as she hated to admit it. She wanted to go back to her perfectly normal sexual life before Regan Desanto, to anonymous liaisons for the pure pleasure of it, to no worries or regrets the morning after.

  That one night with Regan, Syd had been emotionally weak, exhausted after the trial and overcome with joy at the victory. She’d simply needed a quick release and became the aggressor before Regan could resist. That uncharacteristic behavior would not happen again. Now she was stronger, back at work and in her element. She stared down at the young brunette worshiping at the altar of her breasts and knew it wasn’t going to work. She had to get Regan out of her system once and for all. She needed to make Regan want her desperately, like all the others. Make her the aggressor without any power. Then she could relegate Regan to the status of her other sex partners; then she’d be free again.

  “Stop.” Syd eased back. “Dana, you need to stop.”

  “No, I don’t. I’m almost there. Please.”

  As Syd worked herself to a seated position, her breast snapped out of Dana’s mouth with a loud pop. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to go.”

  Dana stared at her with horrified eyes. “But I’m a mess. You can’t leave me like this.”

  Syd straightened her clothes, opened the car door, and climbed out. “I’m sorry.”

  As Syd hurried toward the club, Dana peeled out of the parking lot, shouting something about her being a tease. Syd wasn’t often on the frustrated end of a lover’s emotions, and Dana’s anger surprised her.

  “You owe me two martini glasses,” Jesse bellowed from behind the bar as Syd approached. “I draw the friendship line at stealing glassware.”

  Syd stood by the bar too confused and antsy to sit. “I’ll pay for them. I’m sorry. I seem to be saying that a lot tonight.”

  Jesse’s wrinkled brow said she was still annoyed, but concern won out. “What’s the matter. Miss Tall Buff and Horny not do it for you tonight?”

  “That’s not even funny.”

  “I think it’s hilarious. I could’ve told you that wasn’t going to work.”

  “What makes you such an expert on what works or doesn’t work for me?” Syd regretted the question immediately. She’d just given Jesse the opening she needed.

  “Well, since you asked, let’s get straight to the point. You’re hung up on that attorney.”

  In spite of herself, Syd hesitated, wondering if that was even remotely possible.

  Her silence was enough for Jesse. “See, I told you.” The New York accent made her smugness sound even more pronounced.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not hung up on anybody.”

  Jesse retrieved a beer from the cooler beneath the bar, opened it, and slid it down the counter to a yelling customer without taking her eyes off Syd. “Let’s review the evidence, shall we? How many times a week do you usually get laid?”

  Syd wasn’t in the mood for a walk down the corridor of her conquests, but she knew Jesse wouldn’t let it go until she made her point, presuming she really had one. “It varies. If I’m seeing someone, it’s…more.”

  “And when did you and Regan sleep together?”

  “A month ago.” Syd didn’t need Jesse to do the math. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

  “That’s never stopped you. How many times have you gotten laid since then, not counting failed attempts like tonight?”

  “None.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear that.” She made a point of leaning closer, as if she’d suddenly gone deaf.

  “None.”

  “I rest my case.”

  “You don’t have a case. I’ve just been busy trying to get my feet back on the ground at work. It’s not easy.”

  “I can see you need further convincing. How many times have I thrown singles nights so you could meet women in the last four weeks?”

  Syd groaned.

  “Right, and I’ve paraded women of every color, shape, size, culture, socioeconomic status, and sexual persuasion under your nose. You’ve hardly even taken a whiff. Face it, Syd, you’re hung up on Regan and the old style isn’t working for you anymore. You need to shed it.”

  “If you’re going to pass out this shitty advice, you’d better get a shrink’s license. And consider giving free drinks. It’ll go down easier.” Syd set her glass down. “I gotta go home.”

  The short walk to her loft seemed too long as Jesse’s assessment of her situation spun through her head again. Damn it. She knew she hadn’t had sex in a month. Anybody who stood within three feet of her could probably tell from the pent-up current whizzing around inside her. It was like dancing on top of an electric fence, and no self-help devices were helping.

  She recalled the complete satiation she’d felt making love with Regan, like nothing she’d ever experienced. She’d always considered sex a purely physical act with entirely physical results. When she’d woken up next to Regan the following morning, her entire body was exhausted yet she was simultaneously ravenous to have her again. Watching Regan sleep, her heart and soul had ached with something so foreign and frightening that it had driven her from her home without a word. She’d written a note and bolted because she couldn’t trust herself to stay and not tell Regan just how confused she felt.

  If these feelings for Regan were so wonderful how could they be so terrifying at the same time? Syd knew the answer. She’d been out of her element and behaved in a way that was not comfortable for her. The next morning, when the lust wore off, she’d realized her mistake. Nothing had really changed for her. It had taken the past month to figure that out. Now that she understood why she’d behaved uncharacteristically she simply had to convince her body and heart that it was okay to enjoy Regan and then let go. Under less-stressful circumstances, she would discover the truth—that there was no special magic. She was still Syd Cabot and Regan was just another attractive woman. That’s where her new plan would come into play—tease, seduce, and conquer.

  Regan Desanto would be hers
one final, purging time.

  *

  Regan parked across the street from the Thai restaurant and watched Syd walk toward the Cop Out in the next block. The sight of her dispatched flashes of heat through her body that were quickly replaced by cold chills. She wondered who Syd would liaise with tonight, but decided she really didn’t want to know. Her former client’s life was no longer any of her concern, personally or professionally. The case was over and they’d had their one night of passion. It was what they’d both agreed upon, so why did it still bother her that Syd had left that morning without a word?

  Regan grimaced. She was upset because she wanted to believe she was different. In her fantasy she hoped that Syd would want more. But what did she really have to offer a woman who could have anyone she desired? Her own partner had found her unattractive and dumped her after fifteen years. Her sexual experience was mediocre at best and had probably been uninspiring, perhaps even boring for Syd.

  But Syd’s lovemaking had been anything but boring. It had physically released Regan to be adventurous. The memory of their passion burrowed deep into the cells of her body and throbbed like an incurable disease. Each night she tried to claw it out with her inadequate hands or some ineffective hunk of molded thermoplastic, but the ache persisted. Syd had satisfied her taste for Regan. It was over. But as many times as she’d told herself she was okay with it, Regan knew she was lying. She’d carefully reconstructed her emotional barriers and rationally accepted that a one-night stand was for the best. But the tiny hairline fractures that Syd had caused in her defenses would not heal. She’d seen glimpses of a gentler, more caring Syd and she wanted to believe they had a chance. She had to believe that what they shared was not only in her mind.

  She watched Syd enter the club and physically ached at the visual absence of her. If she couldn’t be with Syd, she’d have to be away from her completely. Seeing her by accident was not going to be an option. No one had ever affected her this way, making her crave and obsess. And this woman would not do it again either. She had to regain control.

  Resisting the urge to chase Syd into the bar, Regan walked instead into the restaurant where she was meeting her old college friend and potential future boss. Nancy Hyde waved from the intimate window table and rose to greet her. She’d chosen a cozy spot out of the main flow of traffic but with a great view of the sunset.

  They hugged and Regan smiled at her friend who never seemed to age.

  Nancy had attended college late in life and specialized in child and family law. She was ten years older than Regan but looked like her contemporary. Her soft facial features and green eyes were accentuated by platinum blond hair in a tight gamine cut. She was the kind of exotically statuesque woman who could pull off short hair and look hot doing so.

  “You look great.” Regan assessed the fringed leather jacket, tweed pants, cashmere sweater, and ridiculously high-heeled Manolos and decided that family law paid very well. “How do you manage to never change?”

  “Lots of strong drink and fast women. You look great, too. As usual.”

  Nancy Hyde was chasing women when Regan was still in grade school. They’d never acted on the occasional tug of attraction between them, content instead to appreciate each other. Regan smiled. “You’re just the woman I need to talk to on several levels.”

  “One of the things I’ve always loved about you, Regan, is that you get right to the point. I thought being an attorney would squeeze that out of you. Is it work or personal?”

  “Both.” She’d never been able to lie to Nancy or even fool her for very long. She was too tired to try either at the moment.

  “I’ve ordered a bottle of New Age white wine,” Nancy said. “I know you don’t drink but it’s more like champagne. You’ll have some and keep me company while I solve all your problems.”

  Spoken like a wonderfully loving Jewish mother. When Nancy set her mind on something it was hard to stop her. It was one of the things that made her a great attorney.

  The waiter came, poured their wine, and hovered while Nancy tasted it. After he filled their glasses, she shooed him away and asked that he not return until their bottle was empty. They should be ready to order by then, she told him.

  Without further preamble, Nancy launched into a succinct recap of her life since she’d last seen Regan, then they moved onto the Cabot case. “So you’re ready to leave this cushy government job after only a year because you just won a big case? There’s more to the story.”

  “I just need a change. This job isn’t for me.”

  “Is it the nice salary you object to, or the substantial perks and benefits?”

  Regan regarded her friend with a mixture of admiration and annoyance. The city had gone way over budget when they hired her, including in her contract a sizeable benefits package. “You really have been doing your homework, haven’t you? Then you should know exactly why I need a change.”

  “If I had to guess, I’d say it was a woman.” Nancy smoothed her platinum knot with a casual air belied by her intent stare. “Sydney Cabot. Am I close?”

  “Too close.”

  “You’re going to let another woman run you out of another town?”

  The question struck Regan like a splash of ice-cold water. This wasn’t the same thing at all. She’d left her family home because her parents were abusive and her mother was a selfish bitch. She moved from Nashville because Martha was fucking her boss and dumped her. She wanted to get out of High Point because… Dear God, Nancy was right. Her life sounded like a Jerry Springer rerun.

  When Regan didn’t answer, Nancy reached across the table and patted her hands. “I’m sorry. That was a little blunt even for me. Darling, you know I’ll hire you tomorrow if that’s what you want. You may need a couple of area-specific courses. That’s easy to do while you work. I’ll coach you through them. But a move won’t solve the real problem, will it?”

  Regan sipped the wine Nancy kept pouring into her glass and was starting to feel the effects on her empty stomach. A little light-headedness might be just what she needed to put a different spin on her situation. “I’m not even sure what the real problem is. It’s not like we’ve been in a relationship for years or anything. We’ve only slept together once and—”

  “Once?” Nancy shrieked, and heads all around the restaurant turned in their direction. Her vivid green eyes were huge with disbelief. “That must’ve been one hell of a fuck.”

  Regan jumped in her chair and jerkily set her wineglass down on the pristine tablecloth. The glass overturned and rolled onto the floor. “It was not a fuck.”

  The look in Nancy’s eyes changed from startled to concerned. “My God, what has she done to you? Don’t worry, darling. We’ll figure something out.”

  A pair of waiters took care of the spill and replaced the table linen. Regan apologized before they drifted away. She caught a scornful glare only from the junior of the two men. No doubt the other guy had seen it all. He replenished her wine with an unruffled air.

  Regan left the glass untouched after he walked away. “I’m really sorry, Nancy. I’ve been on edge for weeks now, like I’m crawling out of my skin. She woke up things in me I didn’t even know were there. It sounds stupid.”

  “Tell me about her.” Nancy’s eyes were kind and encouraging, with no hint of judgment or disapproval.

  “She’s a lot like you, actually. She’s extremely competent in her job, gorgeous, sexy as hell, and sleeps with whomever she wants whenever she wants. Her idea of a good time is sex with no strings.”

  “Ouch. I think I’ve just been insulted.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that, but the two of you seem to be able to live without intimacy. I can’t imagine life without that connection.”

  Nancy stared into her wineglass for several seconds, her eyes glistening with rare emotion. “Have you ever considered that some people experience intimacy through sex, not the other way around? That some women are just wired differently from you?”

  As
Nancy’s words registered, Regan remembered her night with Syd. It had been intimate. Their connection had been real, so did it matter how they arrived at that mutual convergence of feeling? She knew only that when she was with Syd, she felt whole again. She deserved that. Syd wasn’t perfect, but neither was she. Life was full of light and shadow. It took more courage to engage life’s challenges than to cower on the periphery and merely accept whatever happened. If she walked away from Syd without exploring their potential, she’d never forgive herself.

  Unsettled by her thoughts, Regan steered the conversation in a new direction. “Are you seeing anyone now?”

  “Jean and I are still together, mostly. Apparently she finds enough redeeming qualities in me to keep coming back. She understands that I need flexible fences.”

  “Are you faithful to her?”

  “When we’re together.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “Sure, at least by my definition. I’m not certain it would be yours.” Nancy must have sensed Regan’s unease because she quickly added, “And that’s not relevant, since you and I are not in a relationship. Every couple has to define their love for themselves.”

  Regan sighed. “She felt connected to me. I’m sure of it. It’s just not possible to experience something that amazing and intense if it’s one-sided.”

  In her heart she knew Syd felt their connection. In her head she knew that feeling of connection had driven her away. The note left on the pillow made her intentions clear. Syd had spent a lifetime avoiding commitment and she intended to go on doing so. Regan could accept the evasive maneuvers and walk away, or she could fight for more. Was Syd even capable of doing something different?

  Regan took a gulp of her wine. She would never find out if she simply accepted Syd’s terms like all those other women. What did she really have to lose if she chose a different approach? As things stood, she was planning to give Syd and herself no chance at all. Whatever she did, the outcome couldn’t be any worse.