by Fiona Zedde
She was getting closer to Absolution; she could feel it. Even though with that growing proximity, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to capture or congratulate them.
“I don’t think it’s instructive to lump the slavery practiced on the African continent with the forms it took in the United States, the Caribbean, and South America,” one of her students was saying.
“Why not? It’s all slavery! You can’t pick and choose which one you support and which one you condemn.”
The rush of antagonism in the class brought Mai back to the discussion that was rapidly in danger of becoming a fistfight rather than an intellectual debate.
Mai flicked her gaze to the clock at the back of the room. Fifteen minutes until the end of class. “I think that’s enough lively conversation,” she said, tapping a pen against her knee and giving a firm look to the two students leaning toward each other in blatant hostility. “This is not a history class, everyone. But feel free to put your paper on the novel into a historical context, remembering that we are discussing the literature and not indulging in our not-so-latent racist or xenophobic tendencies. Okay?” She raised a pointed eyebrow, and the some of the students had the good sense to look embarrassed.
The classroom door creaked open, but Mai didn’t bother to look who it was. Probably a student from the next class who didn’t realize how early they were. She looked at the clock again. “We have another ten minutes, so if someone else wants to present the topic of their paper to us, let’s have it.”
But most of the students were looking over Mai’s shoulder. Beatrice, in particular, looked like she wanted to strangle whoever it was she was looking at. Mai sighed, turning around. “We’re not done…” Her words fell away when she saw who it was.
Xóchitl sat in a chair close to the door as if she intended to stay a while. Mai flushed, then immediately tried to look like she hadn’t.
She turned back to face her students, but no one volunteered to talk about their paper. They were suddenly playing shy. Mai cleared her throat. “Why don’t we call it a night? Send your proposals to me by midnight tomorrow, and we’ll go from there.”
While she talked, most of the students stared at Xóchitl with naked curiosity, obviously wondering who she was and why she felt so free to interrupt Mai’s class. Or more importantly, why Mai allowed the interruption. All she knew was that she couldn’t focus while Xóchitl watched her. The back of her neck tingled with awareness and with a familiar warmth that flowed down her spine and settled into her hips.
Mai pursed her lips, annoyed at her own reaction. “Good night, good night,” she said, waving her students toward the door with her glasses. “E-mail me or Carol with any questions you have.”
For a wild moment, none of them moved. Then Mai stood up. “That was your not-so-subtle cue to scram. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.” She smiled crookedly at their nosiness, absolutely not looking behind her.
The stampede of students quickly started, but it seemed to take them forever to actually leave. Beatrice stood in a circle with three of her friends, a small stack of books pressed against her chest and her eyes shooting daggers at Xóchitl. Mai internally sighed and dropped her glasses into her briefcase. She slung the slim leather case over her shoulder and walked toward Xóchitl.
“What can I do for you, Dr. Bentley?”
Xóchitl was composure itself, immaculate in a white, 1950s-style dress with a wide, black belt and high-heeled black shoes. Her lipstick was very red. She flicked a gaze behind Mai, the corner of her mouth ticking up at the sight of Beatrice, who wasn’t being subtle at all about her annoyance. Or jealousy.
“Walk with me?”
Mai pressed her lips briefly together and had a flash of sense memory, the taste of Xóchitl on her tongue. “Sure.”
They walked down the hallway, the heels of their shoes tapping against the tile floors, hollow and loud. Mai didn’t know what there was to say after the last time they saw each other. Those moments were seared into her mind and into her skin, possibly for a very, very long time. But that didn’t mean anything, did it?
Their footsteps took them toward the courtyard just outside the building that housed their offices. Swaying trees whispered in the delicate night breeze, offering shelter and shadow and only a faint respite from the heat. The weather was perfect.
“You’re not what I expected,” Xóchitl said as they rounded a curve on the path.
Starlight and lamplight glowed above them and settled on the cool curves of her face. The tilt of her mouth was like a question.
“You mean because I don’t sleep with my students?”
“No, that was—” Xóchitl cut herself off, slid her hands into the pockets of her dress, and seemed to really think about what she meant. “You’re not like the others, and…you’re actually kind of nice.”
“Nice?” Mai almost laughed. No one ever said that about her.
Some of her laughter must have leaked through her voice, because Xóchitl huffed softly. “I said kind of nice.”
This time, Mai did laugh. “Wait until you really get to know me.”
“I’d actually like that.” Xóchitl’s voice went low. “To really get to know you.”
Mai’s laughter died. She bit the inside of her lip, strangely reluctant to say what she already knew. If—when—their fascination with each other ended, being around each other would become damn near unbearable. Her job, her refuge, would become tainted. Shitting and eating. No.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said.
Xóchitl stopped on the path and turned. “Give me one good reason why not.” Her brown eyes, warming under the burn of the moon and stars, drew Mai in until it felt like she was leaning in, waiting to be kissed and devoured as she had that night in the restaurant parking lot.
But Mai held herself back. Barely. She had so many reasons for them not to see each other that she couldn’t think of just one.
The demons she wrestled with nearly every night.
Her family.
Her past.
Mercy.
But she settled on what she and Xóchitl could agree on. “I’m not as nice as you think,” she said.
Xóchitl stepped closer until her every exhale brushed Mai’s cheek. “What if I say I’ll take you however you are?”
Mai smiled sadly and shook her head, because despite the best of intentions, no one ever accepted her for who she was.
Chapter 8
It was a beautiful day to take off from work. One of those typical Atlanta autumn days that made Mai happy she’d never accepted the teaching job in New York City, despite her longing to escape the Redstone name. With what she thought was pretty damn impressive willpower, Mai was consciously not thinking about Xóchitl and their talk after class, about how things had been left unresolved between then—a throbbing wound that Mai worried at when her mind had too little to do.
Like now, apparently.
Get it together, dammit.
Okay.
She took a deep breath and drew in the scent of the crisp fall air, smoky with crackling leaves and bright afternoon sun. Wearing black knee boots, designer jeans, and a see-through blouse that showed off one of her prettier bras, Mai tap-tapped down the sidewalk toward a popular Buckhead restaurant.
Mai knew she naturally walked like she was on the prowl. It was something one of her first lovers had told her—not that she moved through the world with confidence, which was what she wanted, but that she stalked through the world as if she was looking for the next thing to devour. It wasn’t an impression she was proud of, because that was the way her mother moved. She’d seen it enough times to know.
So Mai changed. With each step, she altered herself just a little, shortening her stride, adding a dimple to her chin, straightening her back even more until the click of her heels against the sidewa
lk was the sound of an urgent businesswoman with limited time. Gradually, she changed the look of her clothes to a boring dark blouse, matching slacks, and high heels.
She lengthened her hair and pinched her features to something resembling stress. When she walked through the doors of the restaurant, she looked like someone else entirely, and when she saw the woman in the simple black dress at the hostess’ station, she knew she’d found the right person.
Sunlight slanted through the wood and glass doors to splash the dark hardwood floors in gold. It was just after the desertion of the lunch crowd, and the entire restaurant felt like an exhale of relief.
“Good afternoon, Miss.” The hostess greeted her with a professional but sweet smile. “Table for one?”
Mai nodded, and the hostess smiled even wider and led Mai to a table overlooking the back terrace, where she could stretch her legs out into the sun.
“A late lunch is the perfect thing,” the hostess said, placing a menu in front of Mai. “You just missed the lunch crush.” She lightly patted the menu. Clearly, she was a woman used to making things better for the people around her. “This table is a good one for the time of day. The sun is right here but not in your eyes, and you have a view of our garden from here without being out in the heat.”
Mai would have preferred being completely in the heat, but she didn’t say that.
“Your waitress will be with you shortly, but feel free to ask if I can help you in any way at all.”
Mai nodded at her again, this time visibly relaxing her tight features and giving the woman the faintest of smiles. If possible, the hostess—and Mai knew her name was Tracy—perked up even more, the smile brightening and widening to show teeth so perfect they looked brand new.
“Thank you,” Mai said and extended her legs into the promised patch of sun. Tracy turned away, still smiling, her entire body radiating satisfaction at a job done well.
Mai didn’t have to look at the folder in her briefcase to remind herself how Tracy had looked nearly two years before. Surveillance stills from the local hospital she’d visited too often had captured a good view of her face, unmarked but purpled with a low-grade terror, as if the very oxygen inside her body had been strangled by fear.
In a moment of incredible strength, Tracy had gotten a rape kit done on one of these many hospital visits, but in the end, she withdrew the charges against her husband. After half a dozen more hospital visits, the husband caught the attention of the Absolution Killer. Although she’d been fairly certain before, Mai now knew without a doubt what linked the thirty-eight murders.
The folder she carried bulged with pictures and statements of people victimized by Absolution’s targets. These people had been wrecked, torn apart, so someone else had taken away their pain.
Mai had verified the reason and the link between the victims. Now she just had to find the killer.
Cold shivered over her arms and down her back despite her sitting in the sun. No, she didn’t want Absolution to get caught. But what choice did she have? It was either his life or hers, and she was still rather fond of living.
But that decision made and unmade itself during the hour it took her to get back to Poncey-Highlands and, because she didn’t know what else to immediately do after the revelations from her visit to Buckhead, she wandered through the busy maze of streets in her neighborhood.
She’d taken the day off to visit the woman in Buckhead and do a few other things. Now that she’d finished what she’d set out to do, the day was free, hanging from her like a loose thread she wanted to yank away. Mai had never done well being idle.
A store was selling high-end clothing for what looked like poodles, and she spent much too long staring into the window and considering how a poodle would even get into a complicated-looking chartreuse sweater with too many buttons.
“Shopping for some new clothes?”
She turned at the sound of the amused voice and drew a sharp breath of surprise. The world had been moving as it wanted around her, humans threading through the late afternoon in their cars and on foot and in the air—in the constant hum of traffic and tapping footsteps on the sidewalk and the occasional cry of a siren that perked up her ears but not her attention. These things caught her notice and not the woman who moved up behind her. She would’ve made a terrible spy.
“Xóchitl.” The woman took a bow as if Mai was introducing her onto a stage. “What are you doing here?”
Mai didn’t know where the other woman lived, but she was fairly certain it was nowhere near Poncey-Highlands. For a wild moment, Mai thought Xóchitl had been following her. Then she dismissed the thought as ridiculous.
“Doing a bit of shopping,” Xóchitl answered Mai’s question, although her hands were empty.
Today she was wearing ankle boots, skinny jeans, and an off-the-shoulder gray blouse. On Xóchitl, the simple outfit made her look as if she’d just stepped off a fashion runway. She carried the same colorful messenger bag draped over her shoulder.
“Nothing strike your fancy yet?” Mai asked, gesturing to Xóchitl’s empty hands.
“Oh, I’m just getting started.”
They watched each other for a moment, the ghost of their last conversation swirling between them. Or at least that was how Mai felt, standing awkwardly in her dark clothes that were the complete opposite to Xóchitl, who burned brightly enough to light up the whole universe.
Oh God… Mai internally cringed at her thoughts, uncomfortably aware she was too far gone to save herself from infatuation.
A familiar ripple in the air and a rise of goose bumps on her skin jerked Mai’s gaze over her shoulder in time to see Ethan appear on the sidewalk just behind her. He snarled at her, then immediately looked surprised to see Xóchitl. Mai startled when Xóchitl gripped her arm, but the other woman was looking at Ethan.
“Where did he come from?” Xóchitl asked, her voice low and calm.
“The gutter.”
What was he doing there? Did her mother send him after her again?
Ethan settled on the busy street from wherever he’d just come from, looking around and then stroking the lapels of his navy suit as his expression smoothed into an approximation of a smile. The flash of teeth made Mai’s skin crawl.
“I didn’t know you had company,” Ethan said. “I dropped by to chat with you about some family business.”
She never had any business to discuss with him. “I’m sure whatever it is can wait.” Mai gestured toward Xóchitl’s oddly still form. “As you can see, I’m currently occupied.”
“Maybe later on tonight, then?” he pressed.
“Maybe not.”
Beside her, Xóchitl released a soft huff of breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
Ethan had the nerve to look angry. He bared his canines at her. “Playing hard to get, cousin?”
“You keep forgetting, Ethan,” she said, “that I never play with you.”
His look soured even more. He visibly bristled like an outraged cat, and Mai became aware that Xóchitl still had a hand wrapped around her wrist, a reminder that Mai could be doing more pleasant things than enduring her cousin’s presence.
“Talk to Mother about whatever it is you need,” she said, done with him and the unease he stirred along her skin. “You and I have nothing to discuss.”
Mai wanted to turn her back to him then but didn’t dare. Xóchitl didn’t let go of her hand, and in the time it took for her to appreciate that fact all over again, Ethan disappeared. A few seconds later, Xóchitl’s hand fell away.
“Well, that was an unpleasant person.”
“You have no idea,” Mai muttered, looking back at the empty space where her cousin had disappeared.
“It doesn’t matter.” Xóchitl shrugged like Ethan had never been there, then gestured to a restaurant half a block away. “Would you like to have lunch?”
> But as easily as Xóchitl dismissed Ethan, it took a few moments for Mai to recalibrate her own attentions. She blew out a slow breath. “Ah…not really. I just had something to eat not too long ago.”
“How about dessert, then?” Xóchitl stepped closer. Her vanilla, sun-warmed citrus perfume abruptly made Mai’s mouth water. She could practically taste the flavors.
They were near one of Mai’s favorite places, a French-style pastry shop and deli that served one of the best cakes she’d ever had the pleasure of putting in her mouth. They were also very near her condo.
Mai toyed with her earring, an uncharacteristically nervous gesture she stopped as soon as she realized she was doing it. “Dessert sounds like something I can do.”
She ended up on her knees with the fur of Xóchitl’s pussy scraping her lips. Mai muffled her cries of need in the hot flesh between Xóchitl’s thighs, her hand stuffed down the unzipped front of her pants. Desire lit up her entire body, her orgasm pitifully close while Xóchitl tugged at her own bare nipples and writhed against the closed door of the condo.
“Fuck…that feels good.” Xóchitl’s hand fisted at the back of Mai’s head, roughly guiding her mouth to the small space between her thighs that her jeans, only shoved down to her knees, allowed. “You feel—feel so good.” A gasp broke through Xóchitl’s words.
She was close, if her ragged gasps were anything to go by. And Mai was close too, Xóchitl’s salty, slick clitoris calling for the slide of her tongue again and again as she moved her head in for more, thankful that the jeans had some form of spandex in them. She hummed her pleasure and stroked herself closer to the edge, unable to wait.
But she didn’t have to wait, because soon Xóchitl was coming, groaning Mai’s name and gushing her completion all over Mai’s mouth, down her chin, and all over her blouse. That was all the permission Mai needed, and she curled fingers inside herself, the thumb on her clit stroking just so, until she was gasping into the hairs around Xóchitl’s pussy, too far gone to do more than rub her face in the sticky, salty wet. Xóchitl’s essence smeared all over her face, and Mai’s entire body lit up with a shock blast of pleasure.