Bliss

by Fiona Zedde

  "I'll let you get back to your quiet evening, then." She started to walk through the living room.

  "No. Stay." Nikki made room for her on the couch.

  Sinclair came back and sat down, tucking her bag in the corner between the wall and the coffee table.

  "So," Sinclair said to break the silence. "What are you doing this evening?" The inanity of the question made her want to roll her eyes.

  Nikki giggled. "You can do better than that, right?"

  "At another time, maybe. Hunter has my mind doing all kinds of crazy cartwheels today." Too late, she realized what she just hinted at.

  "She is a challenge, isn't she?" Nikki looked at Sinclair as if inviting her to share a secret. "Lydia thought she could handle her, but she can't."

  Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. "It's not about can't. She just won't."

  "I doubt that."

  Nikki sounded fairly certain of what she was talking about. It made Sinclair wonder. "What do you know about Hunter?"

  "Not much. But I can see that you want to know her better. "

  Sinclair felt a blush climb hot and fiery up her throat. She coughed on air and turned away from her stepmother's teasing smile. The phone rang and saved her from responding. Nikki stood up and disappeared into the kitchen to answer it. Moments later she was back with the cordless phone in hand.

  "It's for you."

  "Hey, it's Hunter." The woman's voice caressed her ear through the phone.

  "I know. Is everything all right?"

  "Yes, fine. Why shouldn't everything be OK?"

  "You're calling me when I just saw you less than half an hour ago."

  "So you don't want me to call you, is that it?"

  "No, that's not it. Quit putting words in my mouth." Too late she heard the teasing note in Hunter's voice. "What do you want?"

  "You. For dinner tomorrow evening. Is that possible?"

  "Um." Sinclair swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I don't see why not."

  "Good. I'll be by to get you at four thirty."

  "OK. See you then." Sinclair ended the call, avoiding Nikki's eyes. "Yes, I do want to know more about her," she finally said, feeling her face heat up again.

  Nikki's smile was full of mischief. "No crime in that."

  A question took hold of Sinclair's tongue. "Not that I'm trying to find conflict where there is none, but why are you so OK with this?"

  "Why shouldn't I be? I know people think that everybody in the Caribbean wants to stone gay people and blame their visit to foreign countries for `turning them gay,' but I had a lot of good girlfriends growing up who still play the games we used to play as children. They're still my schoolmates. I'm not going to stop being their friend just because they don't like what I like in the bedroom."

  That was the longest sentence Sinclair had ever heard the younger woman speak. She smiled, feeling a sudden rush of warmth for her stepmother. "Thank you."

  Sinclair and Nikki shared the glass of Grand Marnier and conversation until nightfall. When Victor and Xavier came home, Nikki excused herself to tend to her boys and Sinclair went out into the dew-dusted night to be alone with her camera and her thoughts.

  When Hunter knocked on the door the next evening wearing a powder blue dress shirt and black slacks that fell in an elegant wave of cloth over shiny black loafers, Sinclair was relieved. She didn't want to be the only one to dress up. Hunter gave her apple-green silk dress a long appreciative glance before greeting Victor Daniels.

  "Hello, Mr. Daniels."

  When the doorbell had rung he had put down his paper to answer it but Sinclair beat him to it, dashing out of her room in the gauzy, slim-fitting dress. Now he looked from one woman to the other with curiosity. Beside him, Nikki smiled at Hunter.

  "Good to see you again," she said.

  Hunter nodded and gave her one of her lazy smiles.

  "I'll be back later on," Sinclair said.

  "We'll probably be in bed when you get back." Nikki was careful not to smile as she said that.

  "That's OK. I have my key."

  "Be careful then," Victor said with a slow nod. "Drive carefully out there."

  "Yes, do," Sinclair said to Hunter as they closed the door behind them.

  "Of course." Hunter opened the passenger door of her Jeep for Sinclair. "I wouldn't want to end our date before it begins."

  Sinclair rolled her eyes. Hunter did drive slowly this time, entertaining Sinclair with details of her eventful day at the university until they pulled up at the beachfront restaurant. Coconut trees swayed in the front driveway with a sound like quiet laughter, welcoming them into the faux-thatch-roofed building.

  The thickly muscled host in a yellow tie led them through the meagerly peopled restaurant out to the large back deck only a few feet from the water. Out here, only three of the dozen or so tables were occupied. Hunter pointed to the table farthest from the others that was tucked in a corner by the railing.

  "We'll take that one."

  The host pulled out their chairs and laid two menus on the table. "Your server will be right with you." He disappeared back into the restaurant.

  "This is gorgeous." The beach stretched beyond them for a few yards before falling into the hypnotic quiet of the sea. Tonight the moon was barely a sliver in the inky sky.

  "I'm glad you like it. My cousin, Clifton, is the owner and he's pretty proud of the place."

  "It doesn't seem very crowded though."

  "It's only five o'clock. He gets most of his business from the late dinner crowd and the brunch set on the weekends."

  "How come we didn't have reservations for later, then?"

  "It should be pretty obvious to you, you're not a stupid woman."

  "Humor me anyway."

  Hunter winked. "I wanted you all to myself, of course."

  The waitress approached before she could say anything else. "Good evening, ladies." The woman was tall and voluptuously built with large high breasts, easily the size of Sinclair's head each, and full womanly hips held tight by her red dress. She gracefully placed two glasses of water in front of the two women. "Welcome to Celestial."

  "Hey, Hyacinth."

  The woman looked at Hunter for the first time. "Hey, girl. How are you doing?"

  "Good, good. Can't complain, you know."

  "Oh, yes. I understand." Her eyes slid over Sinclair. "This your new girl?"

  Sinclair hid her smile.

  "I'm trying, but you know how slippery some women are."

  "Slippery, huh? Interesting turn of phrase, my dear."

  Hunter chortled. "Behave, Hyacinth."

  "Why? Life is too short." She winked at Sinclair. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

  "The house port, please," said Hunter.

  "Hmm, seduction wine." Hyacinth grinned and turned to Sinclair. "And you, my dear?"

  "Gilbey's and tonic for me, please."

  "Coming right up." She did a sassy turn on her high heels and left them alone.

  "Sorry about that." Hunter gave the other woman a look of chagrin. "I should have known better than to bring you here."

  "It's all right so far. The waitress is fun." Sinclair glanced down at her menu. "Do you bring girls here all the time?"

  "No. Not all the time. Della came here with me once. Usually I'm here alone with my laptop." Hunter gestured to the restaurant. "Sometimes it's just nice to be among other gay people."

  Sinclair looked around in surprise, noticing for the first time the refined flamboyance of a few of the male customers and the rainbow-colored Christmas lights threaded along the railing of the deck. "This is a gay restaurant?"

  "Not exclusively. But a lot of the clientele and staff are. So is the owner."

  "Your cousin?"

  "My cousin."

  "Here you go, my dear." Hyacinth twisted open the bottle of wine and put it and two glasses on the table. I'll be right back with the gin and tonic."

  Hunter had just finished pouring wine into her glass when t
he waitress came back with Sinclair's drink. "Your Gilbey's gin and tonic." She presented it with a theatrical flourish. "Do you know what you'd like for dinner?"

  "I know what I'd like, but I'm not sure if-" began Hunter.

  "I'm ready, too," Sinclair said. "Can I have the steamed parrot fish with rice and peas?"

  "You can have anything you want, sugar."

  She arched an elegantly plucked eyebrow at Hunter. The other woman grinned as she gathered up the two menus and handed them to Hyacinth. "Chicken roti for me with a side of corn. On the cob and roasted."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  After Hyacinth left, Hunter lifted her glass in a toast. "To a pleasant evening."

  Sinclair echoed the toast. "And thank you for bringing me here. The view and company alone so far have been well worth it."

  "Anytime you want me to repeat the experience just let me know."

  They shared a smile and drank deeply from their glasses. The light caught the gleam of burgundy the wine left on Hunter's mouth. Sinclair tasted the gin on her own lips wishing suddenly for a taste of port, preferably from the pair of lips across from hers.

  "Don't you think it would be wrong if we got involved?" she asked suddenly.

  Hunter put her glass down. "In what sense?"

  "Morally, of course."

  "Why? I'm not involved with anybody and, as far as I know, neither are you."

  "And Lydia?"

  "What about her? I never fucked her so there won't be any mixture of sisterly body fluids on my toys or in my mouth."

  Sinclair's thighs clenched at the vivid imagery but she pressed on. "What about your emotional attachment?"

  "Damn near nonexistent at this point." Hunter sipped her wine. "As far as I'm concerned, what she and I had has nothing to do with us. She's the past. You and 1 are right now."

  "Easy for you to say."

  Hunter smiled. "It is. You can say it with me if you want."

  Sinclair nudged her foot under the table. "Will you please be serious?"

  "You want me to be serious? Really? Then how about this? Your tits look amazing in that dress, the perfect size for my mouth." She lifted the wineglass by the rim, dangling it by her fingertips. "I want to lap you up like you were my last meal on earth. I want to fuck you with my tongue and my fingers until you come so hard and so much that your pussy juice drips into my palms. And after I tie you to the bed and make you ready for my dick I'll be able to lick my hand off and taste you all over again."

  Sinclair released her breath in a slow, shuddering sigh. But Hunter wasn't done yet. She leaned back in her chair and unzipped her pants. Her lips parted and her eyes fluttered closed briefly before she pulled a slick finger from beneath the tablecloth.

  "See how wet I am for you?" She leaned close, tilting her wet finger toward Sinclair, who could smell the briny damp of her, pungent and tempting. Her own body clutched at emptiness, wanting to feel that finger, Hunter's tongue, anything, inside. She bent quickly, a snakelike motion of her head and licked the other woman's finger, sliding her tongue between it and its neighbors to clean it of all its flavor, sucking the long digit deep into her mouth. At first Hunter drew back, surprised. Then she leaned closer, lips parted, breath coming heavily. Sinclair grasped her wrist and pulled her closer, her mouth sucking steadily on the finger, her tongue stroking. Hunter groaned.

  "I see you started dinner a little early."

  They both jumped back guiltily at Hyacinth's voice. Hunter dropped her hand in her lap and Sinclair blushed painfully and looked down at the table. They made room for the large steaming platters of food the waitress set down before them.

  "Enjoy," she said and left them to their meal.

  "Fuck!" Hunter breathed when they were alone again.

  Yes, please. Sinclair took a steadying breath. "The food looks good." She picked up her fork and held it poised over the fish.

  Across the table, Hunter looked flustered. She drank deeply from her water, finishing half the glass in one greedy gulp. When that didn't do what it was supposed to, she drank the whole glass then took a healthy sip of her wine.

  "I think you won that round," she said at last.

  "I'm just trying to keep up with you." Sinclair forked a bit of the flaky, golden simmered fish into her mouth. It was perfectly flavored with pale curls of onions, bits of pimiento, and tiny tomatoes, wilted and draped across it like bits of confetti. Still her mouth watered for another taste of Hunter. Preferably direct from the source.

  "Trust me when I say that you do keep up." With her fork, Hunter dug into the soft flour wrapping of her roti, exposing the curried chicken, potatoes, and spices inside. Sinclair noticed that she used her left hand with no difficulty. Her right hand was still in her lap. Ambidextrous?

  "Do you have any after-dinner plans for us?" she asked.

  "As of a few minutes ago, yes. But I'm not sure that you'd agree to them."

  "If those plans involve any sort of exchange in body fluids, then you're right."

  "Tease."

  "You started it."

  Hunter laughed softly. "I did, didn't l?"

  Sinclair hummed her agreement around a bite of rice and fish.

  "Then give me a chance to finish it. I promise that I'll make it worth every second."

  I'm sure you would. Sinclair shook her head. "Perhaps some other time."

  Between the two of them they managed to finish off the bottle of wine and two very large plates of food, pushing aside the sexual tension to satisfy their more immediate oral craving. Still, when Sinclair fed bites of her fish to Hunter she couldn't help but notice the other woman's moist pink tongue as she parted her lips to accept each morsel of food.

  "Thank you for dinner, it was wonderful," Sinclair said after Hunter put down money for the bill. They stood and walked out of the restaurant together.

  Hyacinth spotted them as they were leaving. "Come back to see us again soon, Hunter darling." She brushed Hunter's shoulder with manicured fingers as she passed to tend to another table of customers. "And behave yourself now."

  "She knows you well, huh?"

  "Sadly, yes." Hunter laughed. "It makes it hard to keep a secret in this town."

  "I'm sure you have some that the fawning majority haven't figured out yet."

  "Maybe." Hunter took Sinclair's hand. "Walk down to the water with me."

  "A walk on the beach?" Sinclair looked at her. "Are you kidding me?"

  "Come on, don't be a spoilsport. It's corny but fun. And I promise not to push you down in the sand and have my way with you."

  "Then what's the point of going then?"

  "Ah, I'm rubbing off on you." Hunter pulled her away from the parking lot and toward the water. "Come on."

  They walked in silence toward the water, hand in hand. Sinclair had tried to pull her hand from Hunter's before but after several seconds of futile struggle she gave up. Besides, the other woman's hand in hers felt good, solid and warm.

  "Tell me," Sinclair said. "What's England like?"

  Hunter looked at her as if surprised she would ask that question. "It was a place to live. Nothing special. At least not to me."

  "Specifics, please. Pretend you liked it a little. Give me the highlights."

  "I take it you've always wanted to go but never did?"

  "You take it correctly," Sinclair mocked her proper tone. "You are such a stick up the ass sometimes."

  "Me?" Even in the dark, she could tell that Hunter was rolling her eyes. "You're the last person who needs to call anybody uptight."

  "Shut up and get on with the story."

  "Well, let's see. It's rainy and wet. Where I lived it doesn't really snow so much as ice over. And if you're unprepared you can spend a horrendous hour or two slipping and sliding home, holding on to iron fences or, failing that, crawling on your hands and knees over the pavement." She laughed at Sinclair's expression. "That was in south London. They often didn't bother de-icing my street. In nineteen ninety six, I moved to Manchester, just
in time for the IRA bomb that blew away most of Exchange Square. Though that wasn't necessarily a bad thing since the place looks much better now that they've rebuilt, refurbished, and invited the homos in to redecorate."

  "Are you saying that you didn't have a single good experience in England?"

  "I didn't say that. I definitely enjoyed my life there. Don't get me wrong." Hunter's eyebrow rose. "There's just nothing that I find aesthetically appealing about the country."

  "Fine. You'll just have to take me there so I can see for myself."

  "Will you, as the Americans say, put out?"

  "Is that all you think about?" Sinclair asked.

  "When I'm with you that's definitely in the top five."

  "Pig." Sinclair laughed, not knowing whether to be flattered or insulted.

  "I get called so many names, all for lust of a beautiful woman."

  Still laughing, Sinclair pulled away from her, the Gilbey's and wine beginning to truly sing in her veins. Foam tipped waves splashed up her legs and knees, cleaving the dress to her skin. "I get the feeling that lust is not an uncommon thing for you to feel. The woman is irrelevant. Your pussy doesn't care who it throbs for."

  The moonlight floated silver on the water and over Hunter's face. The scientist knelt to take off her loafers and socks then rolled her pants up. She tossed her shoes and socks a safe distance up on the dry sand.

  "At this moment it throbs for thee." Hunter ran into the waves, splashing Sinclair's thighs with the salty water. She tugged on Sinclair's dress, using it to pull her close. "Isn't that enough? Can't it be enough for now? Come home with me." She bit Sinclair's bottom lip, then sucked it into her mouth. "I'll be gentle if you want." Her voice was rough.

  Sinclair melted against Hunter, slid her arms around her neck, and returned the wine-flavored kiss. Sinclair stopped thinking. Her body, however, chanted yes with its aroused nipples and wet mouth, the hands grabbing Hunter's ass through her slacks, and the soft panting noises it made. But she wanted to be sure, not overwhelmed like she had been with Regina. Sinclair didn't want to be a victim of her hormones again. She pulled away.

  "I can't."

  Reluctantly, Hunter let her go. Later, as they pulled up to the gate of the Daniels' house, she touched Sinclair's thigh. "I'm not going to give any false promises. I'm not going to lie to you. My honesty is what I can offer that's better than what you had before. Think about that."