Bliss

by Fiona Zedde

  "Fine. Give me fifteen minutes."

  It was half an hour before they left. Sinclair couldn't decide what to wear or how to fix her hair. In the end it was a loose cotton dress with her one-piece bathing suit under it. Her hair she first combed loose, then ended up tying back up with a light blue scarf.

  "You look nice."

  "Thank you," she said graciously. "Nikki, we're leaving."

  Faint noises of goodbye floated to them from the kitchen.

  "I guess we're off, then."

  The jeep was noisier than it looked even though Hunter had put the doors back on, in deference, she said, to Sinclair's city sensibilities. Sinclair wanted to push her out of the truck. Though as they sped over the winding paved roads into the hills, she was grateful for the doors. She clutched onto the Jeep's sturdy frame, praying not to be lurched out the window during one of Hunter's quick turns.

  "I don't suppose you could slow down?" Sinclair shouted over the wind.

  "Sure." Hunter shouted back. "But only under penalty of being considered an irredeemable fraidy cat."

  "Meow."

  The jeep slowed down a little.

  "Are you going to tell me where we're going now?"

  "Sure. Why not?" Hunter looked over at her, eyes sparkling with mischief and fun. "We're heading to the falls. It's quiet and private. I heard you haven't been out much since you've been here, so I'm making it my duty to make sure that you reacquaint yourself with the real Jamaica before you go."

  "Are you part of this experience?"

  "Of course. Although to hear Lydia tell it, I'm not authentically Jamaican enough. Hopefully you're not that picky."

  "I am very picky, thank you very much. But-" Sinclair's gaze flickered over the other woman's body. "You'll do."

  The jeep stopped under a canopy of trees. Sunlight filtered through the wide maze of banyans, but only in jewel-like flickers that enhanced the beauty of the trees without compromising any of their shade. Nearby a waterfall roared, full throated and loud. "Here we are."

  Hunter pulled a picnic basket and blanket from the back of the jeep. "Come on. We're going just down here."

  Sinclair followed carrying her own light bag. The place was indeed deserted, clean with the smell of highly oxygenated water and freshly turned earth. At the falls, white water spilled down moss-covered rocks in an explosion of sound before diving through masses of hanging vines and plants to plunge into the deep pool below. Lily pads floated on the water's surface.

  Sinclair looked at her guide in surprise. "Thank you. This is ..." Her voice faded away.

  "Just enjoy it. That would be thanks enough." Hunter set up the picnic basket and blankets on one of the high, smooth boulders that surrounded the water.

  Sinclair put her bag behind her on the driest rocks and took out her camera. Through the lens she noticed new things, the subtle splash of color around them, shy hibiscus that lurked behind large fronds of deep green plants, orange and yellow lantanas with their tiny bouquets offered up as gifts to anyone who cared to pluck them, and Hunter stripping out of her cutoffs and T-shirt. The shutter clicked.

  "Are you going to come here and enjoy me, or just take pictures all day?" Hunter was already stripped down to her bone white bikini that showed off her muscled body and the black diamond shade of her skin. Her loosened hair rode the curves of her shoulders and back. Sinclair couldn't help but notice that her breasts filled out the bathing suit rather nicely.

  "Is that a rhetorical question?" Sinclair put her camera away and walked over to where the other woman had laid out the food and wine. "This is quite a spread."

  "I'm trying to impress you, remember?" Hunter reached up and tugged on Sinclair's hand. "Let's talk later. Come into the water with me."

  "Wait! Let me take off my dress." She pulled the white cotton quickly over her head and dropped it on the blanket before jumping into the water. Her skin goose pimpled from the sudden coolness. She allowed herself to fall deeper into the pool, past the wavering weeds, and small orange fish that scattered at her sudden presence. The pool's depth was only about fifteen feet. Sinclair pushed herself off the ground back up to the surface, past Hunter's paddling legs and to the other side of the pool that was frothy with the fall of water from the rocks above. A fine spray misted the air around them.

  "You have a beautiful body, Sinclair." Hunter swam close, her hair loose and floating behind her like trails of black ink in the water. "I hope you aren't trying to hide it from me."

  "You found me out." Sinclair ducked away from the other woman, dipping back beneath the water's surface to swim to the other side. She knew that she was thin. Much thinner than the lush body Lydia showed off in her delectable frocks and culottes. Even though Hunter had never seen those riches of Lydia's bared, how could she not compare even that hinted abundance to Sinclair's too-thin body?

  Hunter's arms circled her under the water. Without even trying she hauled Sinclair up with her. Water sluiced from their faces and shoulders. Below the surface, their legs briefly entwined and their thighs slid closer. Sinclair resisted the urge to swim backward and surge away from her like a frightened fish.

  "We're here to have fun, to relax." Her hands spanned Sinclair's waist. "Nothing's going to happen here that you'll regret later. I promise."

  Sinclair relaxed for the first time all day. She felt like a fool, like a child unable to govern her body's own responses. But she also felt relief and a heady sense of freedom. At her smile, Hunter groaned. "I think I'm going to regret saying that."

  Sinclair swam off toward their blanket, laughing.

  After they ate and finished half the bottle of wine, Hunter drowsed in the sun like a big sleepy cat, spread out on the blanket in the white bikini that barely covered any of her skin. The sun and sunscreen made her glisten, irresistible to Sinclair's eyes. Her palms itched to touch that wonderful skin, to know if it was as soft in reality as in her suddenly out-of-control imagination. Hunter shifted next to her and rolled over to her stomach, cradling her cheek on crossed arms. Sinclair could feel her stare under the protection of the mirrored sunglasses. The muscles in Hunter's back rearranged themselves as she watched, curling under her skin like lazy eels. The dark woman took off her shades and dropped them on the blanket. Sinclair resisted the urge to pluck the edge of Hunter's hide-and-seek bikini out of her backside. Instead she leaned over to briefly kiss her mouth before she could lose her courage.

  "Thank you for bringing me out here. I know you didn't have to."

  "Of course I had to. It's part of my diabolical plan to get you into bed."

  Sinclair's eyebrow rose. "You're very direct, aren't you?"

  "That's the only way to get what you want most times." Her eyes dropped to the slight swell of Sinclair's breasts under her bathing suit. "Don't you agree?"

  Instead of answering, Sinclair took up her camera and stood to go looking for more beautiful things to capture on film. Hunter tugged her back down. "OK, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a pain in the ass, really." At Sinclair's look of disbelief she laughed. "Show me your camera. What does this thing do?"

  After a suspicious look at Hunter, Sinclair cradled the camera in her lap and gently turned it over. "That's the manual film advance and rewind crank."

  "Are you joking?" When Sinclair rolled her eyes and shook her head all in one go, Hunter picked up the camera and pointed to a dial at the front of it. "How about this?"

  "That allows you to control the shutter speed. It works with the lens aperture to control the brightness of the picture."

  "This all seems needlessly complicated. Why go through all this when you can just get a digital camera, take the photo, hook it up to your computer, then print it out?" She looked so genuinely confused that Sinclair had to laugh.

  "For me it's about the process. I like taking photos. I also like going in the darkroom and developing them by hand. It's therapeutic."

  "I knew you were a weirdo the second I laid eyes on you."

  "Very funny. Giv
e me my camera back."

  "I was just joking, touchy girl." Hunter handed over the camera with exaggerated care.

  "This camera has gotten me through some rough times. I didn't pick it up again until recently."

  Hunter's eyes were soft on her. "Are you still having rough times?"

  "No." Sinclair murmured, watching the face before her transform with a smile. "Not so much now."

  After her food settled in her belly Sinclair went for a swim. She floated beneath the surface of the fertile pond, watching the cascades of water from the fall but not being able to hear them. The water rippled like silk above her. Through it she could see Hunter, her long, graceful body spread out on the rock, steaming in the sun. She was so beautiful. Sinclair watched her until her oxygen-starved lungs forced her up for air. As she broke the surface, her insecurities came rushing back. She pushed a hand through her dripping hair, sure that it was sitting on her forehead in unattractive clumps.

  "One day I'm just going to cut this all off," she said out loud.

  "Don't do that." Hunter rolled over on the blanket to watch her swim toward the pond's edge and pull herself out of the water.

  "Do you have any suggestions for what I can do to this hair besides more of the usual?"

  "Quit your whining. Let me braid it for you."

  "You? Braid hair?" Sinclair dried herself with a towel, paying particular attention to her woolly hair.

  "Don't look so shocked. I'm good for more than a few spectacular rounds in the sack, you know."

  Sinclair choked on her laughter. "No, I didn't know."

  "So what do you say?" Hunter sat up and stretched. "Can I braid your hair for a kiss and another fun outing?"

  Sinclair thought about it. "I guess. But if it looks bad the bet is off."

  "You insult me, city girl."

  Sinclair threw the wet towel at her. "Do we do it now or later on when you're less ... horizontally inclined?"

  "Now is fine, smart-ass."

  Sinclair retrieved her comb from her bag and sat in front of Hunter on the blanket. She leaned into the other woman as the hands in her hair gently began to comb through the thick strands of hair.

  "You have beautiful hair," Hunter said in a low voice. "You shouldn't cut it."

  "Well, it's not like yours. I have to actually battle with it every morning before it does anything remotely resembling what I want it to."

  "Maybe you're just not being gentle enough." Her hands slid through her scalp, massaging as she combed. Sinclair murmured her agreement as she sank back into the gentle touch.

  "Hmm. You're entirely too good at that."

  "There's no such thing as too good. As long as the ladies are satisfied, I consider it a job well done."

  "You must have plenty of satisfied customers on the island."

  "Not as many as I'd like." Was that wistfulness she heard in Hunter's voice or something else? "When I moved back to the island a few years ago, I was the new dyke meat for a lot of straight aka bi-curious women here. Even the tourist women I ran into wanted a piece of me. But I soon realized that being the tropical flavor of the moment was even less satisfying than being alone."

  "Was that before or after you hooked up with Della?"

  The hands in her hair stilled. "So you know about that too, huh?"

  "Of course, it's not like you two keep it a secret."

  Hunter released an exaggerated sigh. "This island is way too small. Used to be I could seduce a naive virgin and no one would ever know. Now it's broadcast in all the papers from here to Manchester."

  "That's the price you pay for being so wanted."

  "By you?"

  "Maybe."

  Her low chuckle vibrated against Sinclair's back.

  "That was before Della and I became lovers. She was an escape for me, a reprieve. We had a nice year together."

  "I'm assuming from what you just told me that you didn't come fully formed from the wilds of this place. Lydia talks about your notorious days in England, but I've never heard you mention them."

  "There's not much to say." Hunter shrugged. "My parents took me from here to England when I was fifteen. After they died I came back. End of story."

  "Really? There was no great love in England that you were escaping, no dyke determined to end your days of bachelorhood?"

  "Oh, that's your story, Sin, not mine. Love for the island pulled me back here."

  "It must be nice to have such pure motives for coming home."

  "It is." She heard the smile in Hunter's voice.

  Sinclair sighed and leaned back into the cradle of warm flesh behind her. The faint scent of the other woman floated to her on the breeze. Hunter's hands drifted through her hair, already tightening bits of the kinky mass into the promised braids.

  "She's not worth all this, you know." Her hand touched the back of Sinclair's neck briefly before returning to the hair. "If she was worth half your sighs she would have been here with you apologizing on her knees for hurting you."

  "Oh, I know she's not going to apologize. I doubt that she even sees anything wrong with what she did."

  Hunter was quiet above her, patiently twisting Sinclair's hair, and lending the solid warmth of her body to the other woman as comfort. "You'll feel whole again. This pain is only temporary."

  Sinclair could only nod. It was true. Already the Reginainduced pain was fading to a mild sting. With a start of surprise, she realized that it was her pride that was hurt more, not her heart. She pushed the thought of her ex-lover away and decided to change the subject.

  "Della took me to see my mother's grave yesterday."

  After a moment's hesitation, Hunter went with it. "Why?"

  "I don't know. I was hoping you might give me some insight into that."

  She felt Hunter shrug behind her. "Unfortunately, I have little insight into the motives behind a lot of Della's actions."

  "I thought you two were close."

  "Lydia's been giving up more information again, I see." Hunter snorted in annoyance. "Della and I are good friends. She may just be my best friend on the island, but there are still a lot of things I don't know about her. And it's not because she's secretive; she'll probably tell me if I ask. But I allow her whatever privacy she needs."

  Sinclair felt the subtle slap on the wrist. One good friend protecting another. "I'm not discussing her personal business all over the island, although it does seem that my mother was part of that business." She scratched at a dried patch of skin on her knee. "At the cemetery it felt strange being with her. I miss my mother, and I was content to leave her private business in the past. But it keeps confronting me here. First when I found out that my father cheated on her with Lydia's mother and who knows how many other women, and then I found out that she cheated on him, too, with Della and who knows how many other women." She made a sound that could have been interpreted as a laugh. "But I suppose I shouldn't worry. It's all in the past, right?"

  "Della sometimes lives in the past. A lot of us indulge her. But you're right, you don't have to be a part of that. I'm sorry she made you feel uncomfortable."

  "You have nothing to be sorry for, Hunter. I don't think any of us do."

  Hunter breathed softly above her, and said nothing.

  An hour later when Hunter finished, her hair was wreathed in tiny braids that brushed her shoulders and back. Sinclair stared down at her reflection in the water, impressed. "You're very good."

  "I told you, no woman has ever left my care unsatisfied." She grinned at Sinclair before standing up to stretch. "In case you missed it, that means if you ever have any complaints, keep them to yourself." She threw Sinclair a teasing glance before diving into the water.

  At her father's gate much later that afternoon, Hunter shut the door to her jeep and walked Sinclair to the door.

  "Thank you for a lovely time," she said. "I enjoyed you."

  Irresistible laughter bubbled up in Sinclair's throat. "And I enjoyed you. We should do it again soon."

&nbs
p; "I'm free tomorrow after six o'clock."

  "Very funny."

  "I'm not joking." Hunter stepped closer. "I could lock all my windows if that's what you want. No one will hear you scream my name." Her breath tickled Sinclair's mouth, made Sinclair part her lips and moisten them. "Kiss me."

  Sinclair brushed her lips across Hunter's. The taste was so good, yet so subtle that she had to lean in for another. Her fingers slid into the thick wet hair to pull Hunter closer. The soft mouth opened under hers, inviting her in with a flicker of tongue, a squeeze at her waist. Sinclair accepted the invitation, moving into the dark woman with a slide of tongue and wet lips. Her legs fell open and she pushed, gently, against Hunter's hips. The other woman pulled back, breathing deeply.

  "Only because we're right in front of your father's house," she rasped.

  Sinclair nodded and bit her tongue to prevent herself from begging Hunter to come in.

  "I have to go now." Hunter stepped back. "My right hand and I have an appointment to keep."

  Sinclair watched her hop into her truck and take off down the road as if she did have an urgent appointment elsewhere.

  "Sinclair, is that you?" Nikki came to the front door as Sinclair was unlocking it. Something she saw in her stepdaughter's face made her smile. "Did you have a good time?"

  "Yes." Her face heated and she looked away. "I did."

  Nikki closed and locked the door behind Sinclair. "You sound surprised."

  "Yes, I thought-" Sinclair stopped herself from saying something about having to fight Hunter off. She remembered in time who she was talking to. "I just didn't think I would."

  "But you still went."

  Sinclair laughed. "Yes."

  "Stranger things have happened, I guess." Nikki's smile was teasing.

  "True enough." Sinclair looked around, noticing for the first time how quiet the house was. "Where are the boys?"

  "At a movie. Some kung fu thing." Nikki shrugged.

  "Ah. Boys indeed." She could see where Nikki had made herself comfortable on the sofa with a book turned facedown and a bookmark sticking out from between its pages. Nearby on the coffee table sat a platter of sweet biscuits and a glass of amber colored liqueur.