by Sunniva Dee
“What makes you think that I—”
“Want me? This.” Two thick fingers glide inside me. I can’t hold back a moan. I sigh unhappily when he withdraws.
“This,” he repeats. Nathaniel’s breathing is labored as he lifts his fingers to my mouth and touches it with my moisture.
I shut my eyes. “Please. Lock the door.”
Dr. Bergstein and I are at the Hillside Starbucks, only minutes away from the Queen. All I had to do was roll out of Nathaniel’s arms this morning, take a quick shower, and walk here.
Dr. Bergstein agrees. “You’re onto something, and if we angle it right, I think I can piggyback part of your funding from the Markata project.”
“Really?” Something levitates in my chest. It’s a feeling I haven’t experienced in months.
He waves his pen at me and jots random letters on his notepad. This is how he deliberates. If it’s in a classroom, he does the same thing on the whiteboard. Dr. Bergstein is past retirement age but as vigorous as ever. Despite the twenty younger anthropology professors, I can’t imagine our department without him. Now, small genial eyes peer at me from beneath white eyebrows.
“Does Haskens’ Multitudes Theory mean anything to you?”
“Yes, sir, of course.”
“Great. Use it in your proposal, and I’ll take a look. I’ll edit it for you.”
What Dr. Bergstein proposes is so much more than a first-year doctorate student can expect. I actually cup a hand over my smile and shake my head slowly.
“Is that a no, thanks or an oh-my-god?” The doctor’s eyes glitter with humor, and I break into a giggle at his unexpected word choice.
“Sorry. That was definitely on the oh-my-god side of the spectrum.”
I try to minimize my reaction by concentrating on my coffee. I took my time selecting a scholarly beverage while I waited for him to arrive, and I ended up with this, a simple caffe latte. As I found us a table, my professor went all out with exactly what I’d wanted to try myself: the Unicorn Frappuccino. He’s taken the lid off it now and is unconsciously drenching his moustache with cream and rainbow-colored syrup.
“You want some?” He tips his drink toward me. I blush.
“No thank you, but I know what I’m having the next time I come.”
“It’s marvelous.” He shuts his eyes for a moment, really rubbing it in for me, and I can’t help laughing.
“One more thing, Miss Diakos-Miller.”
“Yes?”
“You’ll want to mock up an expense sheet for the trip. Estimate how long you’re staying and the size of your travel group.”
“I was thinking a couple of months?”
He nods long, sagely, before tonguing the straw back into his mouth and sucking up more unicorn juice. “I think two months is a minimum. It would work, but making it closer to three would give you solid data to work on.”
“Got it. And on the expense sheet...?”
“You’ll want to add everything from supplies to transportation, starting at your house and ending at the Lara’s doorstep. An interpreter, computer software, anything you can think of.”
“Okay.” I open my laptop and type up his expense-sheet instructions.
“Don’t forget to include costs of at least one main companion. Have you had time to regroup, look into fellow doctorate or master’s degree students with similar interests?”
“No.” I chew on my lip. “I mean, yes, there are some interested people, but they’re all women and I’d feel better bringing some muscle.” I chuckle uncomfortably.
“Right. We don’t want to underestimate the importance of men in a male-dominated society. But since you’ll need an interpreter, you could get a two-in-one with that person being a man.”
“True. Just, wouldn’t it be expensive to have an interpreter full time for three months?”
“I’d expect the local prices to be reasonable, but start looking into that, the sooner the better. The bigger question is rather if the interpreter will agree to stay in the jungle for three months.”
A Starbucks employee with a nametag that reads Aaron approaches us. “Everything good here? Can I get you anything?”
We bob out that we’re okay, and Aaron smiles, retreating to a pretty Hispanic girl at the table behind us. He sinks to his haunches in front of her, touching her knee. She leans forward and steals a quick kiss. For a second, it reminds me of what I used to have.
When Dr. Bergstein leaves, my laptop tempts, open in front of me. The Queen is going to be confusing anyway. I’d be rummaging over men and situations I don’t want to consider right now, so I might as well work through some of these issues related to the Amazon trip.
I do my research down to the nitty-gritty while trying to ignore the warm interaction between Aaron and his girl behind me. I’m being realistic, plotting in medium-range flight prices, with departure mid-summer and return mid-fall.
“Oh my!” a sweet voice exclaims. I swing and find Aaron’s girl staring at my computer with wide eyes. “You’re going to Colombia?”
“What?”
“Oh sorry. I didn’t mean to get all in your business. I just couldn’t help seeing it said Bogota on there.” She juts her head toward my screen.
“No worries. It’s not private,” I say. “I’m doing research for school.”
“So you’re not really going?” She sounds disappointed. A section of long dark brown hair falls along her cheek. Wow, she has big lips. They’re perfect, but just a tad bit… handcrafted? Come to think of it, her boobs have a similar look. Envy-worthy, of course, but a bit on the unnatural side.
“I am, but I need to do my research first. Gotta mock up this list of costs, see, so they can pay me for it.” I sure make it sound easy.
“Ah! So Bogota?”
I feel like I have only bad news for this strangely chatty girl. “Bogota is actually just a layover. The final destination is Brazil, the western part of the Amazon.”
“Aww, too bad. I’d have you say hi to my aunt and uncle in Bogota if you went. They didn’t move here with the rest of the family. I was just a couple years old when we came twenty years ago.” She opens her palms to me and dances a little in her seat.
A small whimper comes from behind her, and she hurries to pick up a Chihuahua in a hot pink bikini. My jaw drops.
“Whoa, I didn’t notice you had a little doggie. She’s adorable.”
“Yep, this is Bella. She was sleeping.” The girl waves with one of Bella’s tiny paws. The claws have gold nail polish on them.
“Can I pet her?”
“Oh yeah, she’s good with people. Knock yourself out.”
“I love dogs. I’d love to have one, but I’d feel bad leaving it home alone during the day.”
She slides from her table and into the chair in front of me, from which she looks deep into my eyes. “I take her with me to work.”
I smile. “Seriously? You must have a great boss. Lucky.”
She leans closer, Bella’s little apple head barely reaching over the tabletop. Her dark eyes are on me too, but they’re a little less intense than her mom’s. “You should get my kind of job, then.”
Aaron’s girl scans me from head to toe. Am I getting her wrong, or is she spending a little longer on my boobs and legs? “I could totally get you in.”
“In where?”
“Into my business. You could work with me first. You could be my protégé. Doesn’t matter that you’re older.”
Older. Wow.
“When you say ‘older,’” I start, but she shakes her hands in the air like it’s not important.
“We could literally get you a puppy right now. The makeup people at Lucid looove Bella so much they fight over her. If you had a puppy, they’d take care of her too while we worked.”
Makeup people. Work. Hmm.
“A film studio. I’m one of the actresses there.” She tips her head up happily.
“Any specific genres?” I ask while trying not to let my eyes float down to her boobs again. Bella shakes her head, jingling what looks like a Barbie necklace around her throat. It’s a big, blue heart made to look like a diamond. The Heart of the Ocean. Titanic... Yeah, I have a feeling this girl’s films are a little less mainstream than that.
“Definitely! We create adult entertainment.”
“Oh, maybe you know Luka Verenich? He’s a porn star too,” I don’t say. “That’s cool.”
Her smile grows. “I mean, it’s not what people expect to hear, but I like my job. The money is good, and the sex is too, usually, if you pick your gigs right. I mean, I’m into girls and boys, so as long as it’s nothing crazy going down, I have fun.”
TMI.
“Wait, do you go to Kar Community College?” she asks, eyes lighting up.
“No, I’m at Vethertal.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t know where that is. Just thought, because I have a super-smart friend who’s taking classes at Kar—Savannah Nichols? She’s having a baby with a colleague of mine, Ciro Silveira.” For a second, her eyes widen with hope that maybe I do know her friend since we both go to college. “But yeah, guess you don’t know her.”
I agree that I don’t. The only porn star I know is my gross, live-in could’ve-been brother-in-law. Whom I won’t be talking about with any outsiders.
I have work to do. As sweet as Aaron’s girl seems, she’s too close to a part of my reality I don’t appreciate. With a grip, I adjust the screen of my laptop so it angles toward me. She doesn’t take the hint.
“Ciro saved me from a life of party-couch-surfing when I was seventeen. Totally helped me out when I was new in the industry. Omigod, he and Savannah are so cute together. Right, darling?” she tosses to her Aaron as he passes our table.
“Adorbs,” he agrees, winking.
“Good for her. That’s not what I’m used to,” I blurt out and suck in air really fast because—what in the hell?
“No?”
Oh for the love of— Now, she’s leaning her elbows on the table, scooting toward me like we’re about to share secrets.
“Are you dating an adult performer?”
I lean back into my chair, away from this stranger. I tell myself the truth: she doesn’t need to learn about my life. Although if I end up squealing a little, where would my words go? We don’t exactly frequent the same crowds.
“I’m Ana by the way. What’s your name?” she asks, slender, silver-nailed hand stretching toward me. I shake it and tell her mine. For a moment, I think I’m off the hook, but then she picks up her question again. “Are you dating an adult performer?”
I’m prepared this time, and I decide that it doesn’t actually matter that she knows about Luka.
“No, I’m not. My boyfriend was a twin. His brother is in your industry.”
“Who’s the brother?”
For a short moment, I mull it over, trying to think what his name out there, connected with my own, would do. I shrug inwardly; in Luka’s crowd, my name would mean squat. I’m just some boring regular girl.
“Luka Verenich.” Heat shoots up my cheeks as I say it. It’s too personal to talk about, I guess, being that he’s the brother of my love, the good one who died.
“Luka? No way. The Russian god?”
I feel my face scrunch up at the description.
“He’s ah-mazing! I love working with him. The first time, all the chicks were, like, du-u-ude, you’re so lucky. If you don’t come at least five times during the shoot, you’re frigid. I was, like, gimme a break.” She lets out a hearty laugh. “Sorry. Was that too much information? I get it if it is. Savannah tells me all the time. She’s not in the industry. She’s— yeah, at Kar.”
“That’s nice.” Wow. I’ve been thinking of myself as open-minded, attributing this to my theoretical studies and the ability to extract myself from moralistic dogmas. But here’s Ana, and she seems free without even having to consider it.
“Can I ask you a question?” I ask.
She instantly nods, beautiful, dark eyes interested and willing.
“He’s your boyfriend, I assume?” I look toward Aaron, who’s finishing up a table in the corner by the door.
“Yes, and my soulmate.” Her smile broadens with white teeth and happy lips.
“That’s so sweet,” I hurry out. True but not where I’m going. “How... Is he in your industry too?”
She thumps back in her seat, laughing, arms flopping down along her sides. “Geez, you’ve no idea how funny this is.”
I tilt my head at her. “What?”
“Sorry. I mean, you don’t know me, and you don’t know Savannah. But I so had this conversation with her, like, eight months ago.” Ana leans forward again. “She didn’t know she was dating a porn star. Let’s just say she didn’t take it well when she found out.”
“Wow.” Something in my stomach stirs.
“Ciro worked so hard to get her back. Didn’t he, Aaron?” Ana must have eyes in the back of her head when it comes to the BF, because now she pulls him in from behind until he nuzzles against her neck.
“Sure did,” Aaron agrees once he’s done puckering a kiss on her.
“But no, my Aaron doesn’t work with me. Do you, darling?”
Aaron confirms that his girlfriend isn’t lying.
“He does work me, though,” she purrs with an impish lip-bite, and I think the poor guy blushes. “But Luka’s one of the good ones too, like Ciro. A bit wild, but hey. Who isn’t in the beginning?”
I want to tell her he’s been doing this for six years, that he’s not that young. I close my laptop, shuffling it into my bag. “Well, it was really nice to meet you, Ana. And you too.” I flutter my fingers at Aaron, who greets me with one of those short manly salutes.
Back in the Mustang, I consider what “a bit wild” in the adult industry must mean in comparison to out here in the real world. Wouldn’t it take more for Ana to consider Luka wild than it would for me?
It’s Saturday night. I’m not surprised when I go to bed, don’t fall asleep, and toss one time too many, attracting Connor. My Poet Boy enters and shuts the door after himself. Tonight, I’m purposely wearing something nice too, a small pink silky thing that would have made Julian groan on the nights he didn’t just konk out.
Connor pulls the comforter over us and paints relief across my skin with his nails.
“Is it my turn?” he whispers, confirming what I’ve known all along.
“I don’t know.”
“I’m here.” What he says is simple, but I read between the lines. When he hugs me, the soft fur of his chest brushing my nipples, I think he means that he’s here for me.
We kiss. He pulls my lip into his mouth, suckling, swirling his tongue over it. He takes the lid off my well of desire. When I gasp, he responds with a choked grunt, and it’s so sexy, I press my body against him.
It doesn’t take me long to fumble for his underwear. Desperate, I try to fold it off him, but it’s not easy without help. His body is solid, more so than most of the others. With the exception of Nathaniel, of course, and—god, I’m comparing one man to the other.
“You like this?” He’s inside me, rocking slowly, eyes hot on me and gauging my reaction. I want to say something clever, like, What’s not to like? I should be cool like that, but goddamn—
“So. Good.”
“Let it out, babe,” he breathes against my ear. “Whatever it is.”
I do let it out, the desire as it builds, the weight of the sadness in me. Humans are social beings, and this, with someone you know and love and trust, is beautiful.
But I come silently tonight, my channel trembling around him. Connor doesn’t say anything. Instead, he pushes small kisses to my face, moving as slowly as he did when we first started, letting me ride out my climax without interruption.
I pant erratically afterward. He draws me higher on the mattress, over him until I’m his blanket. He pushes my face in against his throat, whispering small words of praise. It makes that lump swell below my esophagus again, so I think of something else, like how my sister has stolen my butterfly collection and used it as garland decor in her room. It helps.
“You’re such a gorgeous woman,” he tells me. “We all thought Julian was a lucky bastard from the get-go. I hope you understand there’s nothing we wouldn’t do to keep you happy.”
“I hate to keep you awake at night,” I joke, eyes half-masted.
Even in the low light, I see his eyes roll lazily. “Yes, this was a sacrifice. But, ya know, whatever the babe needs.”
This is the first day in a long time that I’m home alone at the Queen. Usually, I hate every minute of it, but today, with every Fratter shuffled off to their mother/a date/a job interview, I actually feel okay.
I rig myself up in the dining room with its view onto the porch and the gravel beyond. Then, I plug in my laptop and crack my fingers for a good afternoon’s work session.
I look for interpreters in the western Amazon. There are ten who speak the Lara’ language, Larengatu, of whom seven are women.
I send out identical emails to the three male interpreters, explaining my plan, my timeframe, and how I’d like for them to stay with me during that time. I’m relieved once I’m done. I still want a travel companion from the U.S., but if one of these guys bite, the pressure won’t feel that heavy.
I’m impatient. I wish they were at their computers, just waiting for my email to tick into their inbox. I busy myself polishing my thesis statement.
Sunday Night.
The Queen has been strange all night. After dinner, as another romantic comedy wraps in a happy ending, Lenny gets a call from his sister. She’s stranded on PCH with a flat tire, he says. Lenny’s Toyota is parked in by several Fratter-cars, so James offers to help. As in give him a ride, not lend him his car.