by V. K. Powell
“You’re teasing me now. Don’t you know it’s not nice to torture a horny lesbian, especially in a public place? It can lead to unconventional behavior.” The minute the statement was out of her mouth, Syd regretted it. Memories of her first encounter with Regan flashed back. The sparkle in Regan’s eyes dulled as she seemed to be revisiting the same scenario. “I’m sorry. That was tacky.”
“That was our beginning and, yes, it was tacky.” There was no hint of judgment in Regan’s voice, only the facts.
“Those days are over, trust me.”
Regan seemed to consider Syd’s comment, to sift through it in her mind like panning for gold, or the truth, which was often equally rare. “What makes you say that?”
“Because the need for that behavior is gone. I don’t have to hide from my feelings anymore. And the only reason I’d want to take you in a public place is because I can hardly control myself when I’m around you. I want you that much, all the time.”
Syd inhaled deeply, sure that she’d pass out if she didn’t. Exposing her emotions was daunting because she had no idea how her admission would be received, but it was also exhilarating. She wanted Regan to know how she felt and to know that she could be trusted.
Regan’s neck tinged with pink that crept across her face. She fumbled with the napkin in her lap. “I…don’t know what to say, and I’m usually the talker.”
“Then let me talk for a while. I’ve got a lot to say.”
The waiter brought their wine, Syd tasted it, and he poured them each a glass. Syd raised hers in a toast. “To truth in advertising and relationships.” They clicked glasses as Regan gave her a questioning look. “Because it feels a little bit like I’m selling myself here.”
“You don’t have to sell yourself to me. And you don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.”
“It’s not about want, it’s what I have to do, for us. If there can ever be an us.”
Regan took a tiny sip of wine and settled back into her seat. “Okay. I’m listening.”
Neon light from across the street refracted through the window and cast a rainbow of color across Regan’s ivory skin as Syd watched, captivated. Colors to represent the many phases and nuances of Regan’s personality she had yet to discover. The possibility excited her emotionally and physically. She slid a hand up the inside of her thigh and pressed firmly against the fabric torturing her clit. A charge bolted through her as she realized how easy it would be to make herself come just sitting here looking at Regan. But now was not the time. Tonight was about expressing her feelings verbally, proving to Regan that she was sincere.
Syd summoned all her courage, realizing that this was the most important conversation she’d ever had. She wanted it to be perfect and to relay her feelings exactly. Such proclamations couldn’t be rushed.
As if reading her mind, Regan smiled at her and said, “I’ve got all night. It’ll probably take that long for me to finish this wine. I’m really not much of a drinker. So, take your time.”
“I don’t know how you do that, but I love it. Don’t ever stop.” She took another hefty breath. “The first night we spent together was amazing. At the time, I thought my reactions to you were about relief and gratitude over the case.”
“And now?”
“Now I know it was about you, the person, and how incredibly safe, comfortable, and wanted you made me feel.” A furrow forming across Regan’s forehead made Syd stop. “Did I say something wrong?”
“You make me sound like somebody’s mother.”
Syd struggled with how to express what she felt. She’d had precious little experience doing that and was obviously botching it big-time. “Not at all. I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve never felt that anyone cared about me that way, just for me.”
The worried look lifted from Regan’s brow and Syd tried again. “You saw the worst of me and weren’t afraid. And God, do you turn me on. Couldn’t you see that? I came almost as soon as I touched you that first time. It’s like flipping a light switch whenever you enter a room. I’m on.”
“That kind of talk can turn a girl’s head, Cabot.” Regan smiled and a mischievous glint twinkled in her eyes.
Syd had finally found the right words. If she could only keep that smile on Regan’s face forever, she’d be happy. “While I’m on a roll I might as well go for it. I’m sorry again for leaving you alone in my loft with a kiss-off note. Not one of my finer moments.”
“Why did you?”
Syd had a feeling Regan already knew the answer to her question. She seemed to understand Syd that well. But she needed to hear the words from her. “I was afraid. I woke up that morning beside you and never wanted to leave. That was a first for me and I didn’t know how to handle it, so I ran.”
“Are you saying it wasn’t just about sex?”
Reaching across the table, Syd slid her fingers under Regan’s and stroked the top of her hand with her thumb. Syd looked directly into her eyes, sensing that this question held the key to all Regan’s concerns. “No, it was awesome but not everything. That night I allowed myself to feel for the first time in almost a year. It brought me to tears but it felt good at the same time. You helped me do that by being so open. Can you forgive me for acting like such a coward?”
Regan closed her fingers around Syd’s, her eyes never leaving Syd’s. “Done.”
Syd shivered like tiny goose bumps were marching through her insides. One intense stare from Regan’s eyes propelled her into a full-blown fantasy that she couldn’t contain. “If you don’t stop that, we’ll have to skip dinner and go straight for dessert.”
“Would that be such a terrible thing?”
“Not at all, but I need to ask a question first.”
Over Regan’s shoulder Syd spotted a well-dressed woman wobbling toward their table. She had wispy blond hair, the face of a cherub, and the body of a porn star, big tits, slender waist, and childbearing hips. She was the type who could lull a woman into a coma of safety with her eyes and fuck her until her bones turned to dust at the same time. Syd thought she looked vaguely familiar but couldn’t make the connection.
The woman came to an unsteady stop beside Regan’s chair and just stood, waiting to be acknowledged. The breath from her heavily painted red lips reeked of alcohol. When Regan looked up, her entire face blanched as white as their tablecloth. Her mouth opened but produced no sound. Already Syd didn’t like this woman, whoever she was. Then it hit her. God, no.
“Well, what have we here? Aren’t you going to ask me to sit down, Regan?”
Regan looked from the intruder to Syd, unable or unwilling to speak.
“What about you, Syd?” The woman asked. “May I join you?”
Syd could feel the tension from Regan’s body across the table. She wanted to whisk her away from this place before the ax she felt hanging over them fell. Regan’s face shifted and contorted as every conceivable emotion brushed across the pristine canvas. Shock followed by fear turned to annoyance, disbelief, and anger.
“You know each other?”
Before Syd had a chance to explain that she’d only seen this woman once years ago, if she actually was the woman Syd recalled, the interloper said, “Oh yes, we know each other in the biblical sense. Right, Syd?” With a contemptuous look at Regan, she added, “And I learned just tonight that your new friend here even fucked another officer’s wife. Can you believe that?”
Syd sprang from her seat. Who was this vile creature and what dark corner of purgatory did she spring from, spewing all Syd’s past transgressions? “Who the hell are you and what business of yours is it who I sleep with?”
Regan’s skin turned deep red. “You’ve fucked this woman, too?” She spat the question at Syd through clenched teeth.
Syd’s mind was spinning violently. Why was Regan’s response so disproportionate? She knew Syd’s past was littered with women who meant nothing. It was embarrassing to have one of them spoil their romantic dinner, but there was no reason to let t
he evening turn into a nightmare. They needed to take their discussion somewhere private. She reached for Regan’s arm.
“Let’s get out of here.” As Regan jerked out of her grip, Syd said, “Regan, listen to me. I don’t even remember this woman’s name. It wasn’t important.”
Her comment seemed to affect Regan like a glass of cold water. She stepped within inches of Syd’s face, eyes locked to hers. “Her name is Martha. And it was important to me. She’s my ex-lover.”
“Oh, shit.” As Regan exited the restaurant, Syd felt as if she’d been gut punched. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”
“Yeah, small world, isn’t it? Want to have a drink?” Martha asked.
If Syd were a violent person, she might’ve done her bodily harm. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
She threw some cash down on the table and ran from the restaurant, desperate to find Regan and sort out this huge mess. She was too late. All she could do was watch the taillights of Regan’s car as she sped away.
*
Regan felt like her veins had been slashed open and the very essence of life drained from her. The only thing missing was a deranged scientist to collect her mutilated body and distribute it to the blood-thirsty undead. But that had always been Martha’s job: draining her of joy, leaving her empty, and abandoning her. A full year later she’d done it again. What had started off as one of the most beautiful nights of Regan’s life ended like a bad horror movie.
Martha and Syd. Kissing. Fondling. Sucking. Fucking and coming, together. The thought scorched her mind and curdled in her stomach. She stopped her car by the side of the road, leaned out the door, and vomited the bitter wine out of her system. It singed a raw path up her throat that only momentarily distracted her from the dark specter of betrayal that clutched her heart again.
God, how she wanted to believe Syd when she’d phoned to ask her on the date. She’d been so candid during that brief call, telling Regan that she wanted them to have a fresh start and get to know each other. That she wanted something different, something meaningful. Regan had even dared to hope that she was part of the change she could sense.
And tonight, Syd was so sincere, so genuinely in touch with her emotions that Regan had started to believe and hope. But the closer she got to Syd, the more skeletons fell out of her seemingly infinite closet. She’d been fooled again. When would she learn that no one could be trusted, especially in affairs of the heart?
Her old wounds festered as she drove out of town and for hours beyond. She had no idea where she was when she finally pulled off the shoulder of the winding road at an overlook. A small town blinked and twinkled its light display in the valley below as Regan leaned her head against the steering wheel and wept. No amount of crying would eradicate the vision of Martha and Syd’s sweaty body parts entwined in an all-night comefest, and no rationalizations would alter the facts.
She could recite from memory every explicit and covert move in Martha’s sexual repertoire. Syd would have been overpowered and perhaps she’d even enjoyed Martha’s obsession for physical domination and sexual control. Regan couldn’t stop the images of Martha’s rough hands clawing Syd’s supple skin or her philistine invasions of the feminine hills and valleys of Syd’s body. Her stomach lurched again and she sat back against the seat and really looked at the rolling hills surrounding the small town below, at the cup-shaped valley and the glitter of lights like diamonds thrown on the ocean floor. Her emotions started to calm and cool in the presence of such a serene setting. When her life seemed most tumultuous, she often sought refuge in nature and the comfort of miracles too simple or too intricate to be explained. The chaotic perfection of nature helped her understand that some things were purely out of her control. It brought her back to basics.
Now, with that perspective came the realization that many other things were hers to command. One of those was her life and how she chose to live it. As Izzy used to say, “The truth is welcome in heaven.” Regan dealt with some version of the truth every day practicing law. Now she needed to re-evaluate her truth in the cold, hard light of new information.
Martha was in town and she didn’t know why. How had she found out about Regan’s interest in Syd? Why did she feel the need to rub Regan’s nose in some ancient liaison with Syd and to further expose Syd’s affair with yet another woman? Where had she gotten that tidbit? What was her motivation for such an unkind revelation? Was Syd really as genuinely surprised by Martha’s appearance as she seemed? Was there a logical, forgivable explanation for this whole fiasco?
Regan forced her emotions aside and came to the only logical conclusion. She needed more information. There were entirely too many questions for which she didn’t have answers. She’d allowed Martha to destroy her life once. This time she refused to let it happen quite so easily. Why should she accept Martha’s warped, self-serving statements as truth? Syd might not be the most emotionally tuned-in woman she’d ever met, but to Regan’s knowledge she’d always been honest. If nothing else, she owed Syd a chance to explain. If not for Syd, then for herself. She couldn’t release Syd without a fighting chance. It simply was not possible.
Her disgust with the idea of Syd and Martha together wasn’t about her ex-partner. Who Martha slept with, fucked, or loved didn’t concern her—as long as that person wasn’t Syd. She had no feelings of love, jealousy, betrayal, or anger toward Martha. Any emotional connection she’d had to her ex was severed long ago. But the idea of Martha’s or anyone else’s hands on Syd’s body provoked an entirely different array of emotions worthy of exploration.
She powered up her cell phone and checked messages: seven from Syd desperate to explain and one from Martha. Old business first. Regan started her car.
*
Martha’s suite in the downtown Radisson was indicative of the woman, needlessly extravagant. When she opened the door wearing a negligee, Regan wanted to deck her, on principle alone. Instead, she swept past her outstretched arms and crossed the room to stand at the balcony windows, as far away from her as possible.
“Don’t be like that, baby.”
“This is not a social call.” Regan employed her courtroom voice, determined to remain objective and professional as she gathered the necessary information. “I need a few facts, if you’re capable of distinguishing them from the continuous web of deceit you weave.” Martha drifted toward her, sheer fabric floating behind her like wings. Her expression was that of a vamp intent on the seduction and consumption of another victim. “Why so hostile?”
Regan sidestepped her advance. “If you ever cared about me, please just answer a few questions. It won’t take long.” Regan knew it sounded like she was begging and she didn’t care. She didn’t care what Martha thought of her anymore because she’d do anything to find out what she needed to know.
Martha glared at her. “My God, I should’ve guessed this sooner. I thought you were coming by to talk about us. You’re in love with this girl, aren’t you?”
Hearing the words out loud thrilled Regan’s heart and quickened her pulse, but hearing them from Martha made her want to slap her. She had no right to make assumptions about her life, especially since she’d tried to destroy it twice. “It’s none of your business how I feel. What was that scene about tonight? Why are you here, Martha?”
Regan’s question seemed to infuse Martha with fresh confidence. She captured Regan’s hand and brought it to her overflowing breasts. “I was hoping for a reconciliation.”
“Are you crazy?” Regan snatched her hand from the trap and backed away. “It’s been a year. You don’t love me, probably never did. I don’t love you, and I could never trust you again. Do I need to go on?”
The bluntness of her rejection didn’t seem to faze Martha at all. “Well, you can’t blame a girl for trying.” As quickly as she’d turned on the charm, it was gone. She sashayed to the minibar and retrieved a bottle of wine. “Care for a drink?”
“No, Martha, I don’t want a drink. I want answers.”
&nbs
p; She motioned to the sofa, which Regan ignored and took a chair opposite. “No reason we can’t be civil about this, is there?”
“If you answer my questions honestly, I’ll be civil. Where did you hear about me and Syd? And how do you know about her partner’s wife?”
“Some bar I stopped by tonight on my way into town, the Cop Out. Girls will tell you anything with enough drinks. You know that.” She settled onto the sofa, wine bottle in hand, and crossed her legs. “Besides the trial was big news. It even made the Nashville paper.”
“And Syd?”
“God, she is a sweet little thing, isn’t she?” Martha rubbed a finger suggestively across her lips.
Regan fought an urge to flog her. Her face heated with anger and the suppression of rage at this vulgar and highly insensitive woman. What had she ever found attractive about her?
“I’m teasing you, baby. I know every emotion you ever had. You’d like to choke me right now, wouldn’t you? But I made my point. You’re in love with her.”
“I’m going to if you don’t tell me what I want to know.”
“Okay, okay. I met her about three years ago at the same bar when Angie and I were in town for the women’s ACC basketball tournament. I bought her a few drinks and we went to my hotel room. I was totally into her but she wasn’t feeling the love, if you get my drift. We did a little grab ass, then for some reason she turned chilly. I finally got off on her leg, fully dressed, as I recall. It wasn’t one of my better performances. Afterward, she bolted.”
Regan stared at her in disbelief, the heated image she’d carried of them together earlier bleeding from her mind. It was unlike Martha to reveal anything less than a report of stellar sexual performance, so her story had some credence. “Let me get this straight. You were with the woman you cheated on me with, and you were cheating on her? You took Syd back to the hotel room you were sharing with your mistress? And when she wasn’t into you and wouldn’t strip, you humped her leg? Does that about sum it up?”