Concerto in Chroma Major

by Naomi Tajedler

  Alexandra puts her hands over the folded menu on the table. “Oh, I do want to eat.”

  Halina doesn’t want to let her libido take over, but she cannot silence mental suggestions of exactly what, or who, Alexandra could be eating right this instant. She squirms in her chair.

  Alexandra speaks up, cutting through the fog of lust. “I didn’t pick this restaurant on a whim; it’s one of my favorites. I know the menu like the back of my hand. Besides,” she adds with a crooked smile, “the view is more interesting.”

  “Is it so?” Halina is unable to keep her appreciation for the compliment from her voice, as hard as she tries.

  “Very much so.”

  “If you are so familiar with the menu, do you recommend a dish in particular?”

  For Halina, this is the first step on a tightrope without any net.

  Alexandra’s smile turns into a full-on smirk. “Depends on how varied your diet is.”

  “Pretty varied, but I am a creature of habit.” If Alexandra’s phrasing was a challenge, she will learn how strong Halina’s competitive side can be.

  “Is that so?” Alexandra cocks one eyebrow.

  “Omnivorous, but with a very selective palate.”

  “Mm hmm?”

  “Not sure you’re as picky as I am.”

  Alexandra raises her other eyebrow. “Au contraire, I am very picky. I simply have varied interests within the parameters of my likes and dislikes, if you will.”

  “Oh, I will.”

  A blush appears on Alexandra’s cheeks, spreading like a drop of red ink in a glass of water. “Good—good to know.”

  A moment passes, just long enough to make Halina fiddle with a stray piece of thread escaping from the embroidery on her sleeve.

  “Back to your question,” Alexandra says, her voice sounding slightly strangled. “I recommend the brioche. It looks like a pastry served with jam, but it’s actually filled with a filet of salmon cooked in Thai spices with a side of bell peppers and tomato chutney.”

  Halina searches for it on the menu and frowns at Alexandra. “The whole menu is like this. The Saint Honoré?”

  “You’d think it’s a cake, but it’s actually a burger.”

  “And the dessert section, with the cold cuts?”

  “An assortment of chocolates and miniature cakes, yes.”

  “This place is weird.”

  “I’m sure you’ll like it, though.”

  “You seem so sure.”

  “Positive.”

  The weirdest thing is not the way Halina trusts Alexandra’s judgment on this matter—or any matter. It’s the warmth spreading through her whole body at the sight of Alexandra’s smile.

  “Aren’t we doing things backward?”

  Alexandra swallows her mouthful of gnocchi and tilts her head to look up at her. Halina’s heart should not somersault at how lovely she looks across the table. “What do you mean?”

  Halina puts down her cutlery and presses her napkin to her lips, which gives her the time to compose her thoughts.

  “Fucking first, dating second. I mean…” She needs to understand where she’s going with this experiment, and it’s well worth the embarrassment of having her cheeks turn bright red.

  Alexandra mirrors her moves, pushes away her plate and cutlery, folds her arms on the table, and relaxes. “Well, as previously stated, when we… fucked, as you put it, I was under the impression that it was the heated start of us as a couple, nothing less.” With the thumb and forefinger of her left hand, she twists the thumb ring on her right.

  Even though they haven’t spent a lot of time with their clothes on, the comfort Alexandra gets from the gesture hadn’t escaped Halina’s notice. If she focuses hard enough, she can recall the way the ring felt against her heated body while they kissed, the way the light bounced off it when Alexandra ran her thumb over her nipple, and—

  Well, aren’t I fucked.

  Alexandra clears her throat, and Halina returns her gaze to her face. “It was always about building something real, not just orgasms.”

  That is a loaded sentence if Halina has ever heard one. She takes a deep breath before diving in headfirst. “It’s … it’s not just about sex. For me. At least, not anymore.”

  She’s not proud of her stammer, but there, she said it, she admitted it, and she may even be a little proud of herself for managing to say it aloud, if only for the reward of Alexandra’s responding smile.

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  They exchange a look before returning to their respective meals. The salmon is indeed delicious, just as Alexandra promised, and the smell of the herbs blends with the underlying tanginess of the caramelized vegetables and the sweetness of the sauce to complement the fatty taste of the fish. Alexandra’s dish of gnocchi is odd, in its appearance at least. It reminds Halina of a makowiec, the pastry her father used to make when she came back from a concert away from home. It does look good, and this dish nails the restaurant’s concept in Halina’s mind. Entrées shaped like desserts, desserts disguised as savory dishes—it’s disturbing. Alexandra didn’t pick the place for their first date by accident; she picked a place she was familiar with in order to get the upper hand.

  Halina spares a moment to ponder how it fits another aspect of Alexandra’s life: It’s good, sure, but Halina prefers to have things more clearly defined. In her admittedly limited experience of the world, choices need to be made, and one thing cannot fit in two boxes at once—a pasta dish cannot be a dessert, a dessert cannot be a pasta dish, and one cannot be attracted equally to different genders. She’s certain she would be more comfortable in this relationship business if she could be sure of Alexandra’s preference.

  But for now, Alexandra seems to have chosen her, and Halina is a perfectionist.

  “So…”

  Alexandra raises an eyebrow and picks her glass. “So?”

  “Enlighten me,” Halina says, affecting confidence as she sits back in her chair, her fingers around the stem of her wine glass. “What does a date not meant to end in, um—”

  “In bed?” Laughter rings in Alexandra’s voice, reminiscent of the soft thrumming of the drums in the background of a piece, a vibration that spreads through Halina’s belly.

  “Precisely. What does such a date entail?”

  Alexandra laughs openly, and the sound is as rich and warm and silky as the sweetest of miód pitny, just as intoxicating as the liquor, and just as addictive.

  “Well, for starters, it entails getting to learn who we are, beyond our magical spots and the way we moan or sigh,” Alexandra replies, her voice cracking with the remnants of her laughter. “What makes us, us.”

  Halina wrinkles her nose in unveiled contempt. “What, a variation of Twenty Questions?”

  Alexandra’s features turn predatory as she looks at Halina, as if she is getting ready to pounce on the mouse Halina has become in this game. It’s not a role she’s used to playing, but she can’t find it in herself to mind.

  “Exactly like Twenty Questions.”

  Halina can only focus on swallowing without choking on her mouthful of wine and on gathering what’s left of her wits after the unexpected wave of arousal in her body. Why does learning things about Alexandra while revealing things about herself turn out to be so exciting?

  “You start,” she says, hands on her lap and legs crossed under the table. “This is way too much of an uncharted territory for me.”

  Alexandra smiles at the waiter when he takes their plates before returning her attention to Halina. Her eyes are like lasers. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle. First one: dream holidays?”

  Halina is so surprised by the question she just snorts a laugh. Truth be told, she expected something a little bit more… traditional, or cliché, such as her zodiac sign or her favorite movie. Somehow, Alexandra manages to surprise
her.

  “Remind me of what a holiday is.” She stalls to hear Alexandra’s rich laugh once again. She could get used to this relationship business.

  Ch 8

  G Minor

  Purple, Bottle Green, and Gold

  The moment she closes the door behind Alexandra, Halina pulls her into a passionate kiss, all tongue and teeth and, yes, desperation.

  During the day, on a search to catch a glimpse of Alexandra, Halina had an eyeful of Leonardo Neri, or he-who-must-disappear as she called him in the privacy of her mind. She saw the way he couldn’t take his eyes off Alexandra. The sight accentuated every emotion Halina could feel brewing deep inside, from a lustful curiosity to something she could not yet name.

  Most of their dates have had Halina walking on eggshells. Alexandra and her whirlwind of emotions, heartfelt words, and softness—both literal and figurative—pull her into a maelstrom of confusion and doubt. But this? Kisses that turn her partner’s brain into mush? Using her body to find peace? This, Halina knows how to handle.

  She pulls Alexandra closer, one hand on her cheek and the other on her waist, and doesn’t give her any time to pause or talk. Halina doesn’t give Alexandra a chance to throw her out of her groove; she just takes all she can while giving as little of herself as possible.

  Her hand moves from Alexandra’s soft waist to her even softer breast before traveling south to her generous buttocks. God, Halina had never been so interested in asses before, but there is something in Alexandra that effortlessly turns Halina’s world upside down.

  Alas, her partner is not so easily convinced, and though she kisses Halina back—and with as much passion, the little diabełek—Alexandra quickly pulls away from her embrace.

  “Now, now,” she says, voice soft yet strong in the two short words. “Didn’t we say we would do this right?”

  “Was I doing it wrong?” Halina asks as innocently as she can manage. At Alexandra’s silence, she cocks one eyebrow and puckers her lips. “I must need to practice some more.”

  Alexandra lets out a throaty laugh as she twirls a long lock of Halina’s hair around her fingers. “Nice try,” she says, an echo of her laughter still in her voice like the ring of cymbals at the end of a movement, “but it’s not what I meant.”

  Halina pouts and tries to get ahold of Alexandra’s waist once again, but she takes a step back and puts a hand on Halina’s shoulder. Her touch is feather-light, and yet it weighs on Halina like an anchor.

  “Tut, tut. Let’s go to that comfortable sofa over there and order all the most decadent items on the room service menu.” She clasps Halina’s hand in hers and pulls her toward the aforementioned piece of furniture. “And then we’ll catch a movie and maybe kiss…”

  “A regular date, with just kissing.” Halina sums up, and Alexandra nods as she sits and pats the couch next to her. Such a short woman, but she has more power over her than Halina would ever care to admit.

  Damned if she doesn’t love it, too. Yes, women and their curves and their softness and their complications are everything one could desire. Why anyone would want a man when they could hold a woman is beyond Halina’s comprehension, and she intends on convincing Alexandra of the same.

  While they wait for room service to deliver the many delicious-sounding items Halina picked from the menu, she decides to woo Alexandra with her abilities as a mixologist. Camille was only one of the numerous bartenders Halina had seduced around the world and over the years, and she retained some ideas and recipes.

  Her minibar and fruit bowl have just the ingredients she needs to make a Negroni. Sharp, tangy, delicious, it seems to be a perfect choice for Alexandra. She doesn’t appear to be much of a drinker, but for one, of all the cocktails Halina enjoys and can prepare easily, the Negroni is the one with the most delicate taste. For two, Halina finds herself more comfortable with this whole seduction, this slow-paced relationship thing, than she’d thought. She enjoys the “make an effort to please your partner without any expectation” aspect—no expectation, but still an eventual reward.

  Alexandra takes the offered glass, plucks the slice of orange from it, and sucks the peel. She smiles at Halina. “Trying to get me drunk?”

  Halina quietly laughs and takes a sip of her drink. “I would never,” she replies, one eyebrow dramatically raised. “Besides, do I really need to get you drunk to make you change your mind?”

  Alexandra may want to be firm on her no-sex policy, but Halina doesn’t have to make it easy for her. They share a look, and Alexandra seems unable to tear her eyes away. Halina can’t either; the swirling gray of Alexandra’s eyes pulls her in and gives her comfort.

  Alexandra breaks the connection and takes another drink. “I suppose that’s true,” she finally says, before asking Halina how rehearsal went.

  After a little chat about their respective work at the Philharmonie, they let a companionable silence fall over them as they enjoy their drinks. Halina feels nervous, out of her element; somehow, noticing her lack of nerves makes her nervous. And yet there is nowhere else she would rather be.

  When a knock on the door disturbs their quiet, Halina jumps from the couch. Her hair frees itself from the loose tie she was using to tame it. Shaking the cascade of hair, Halina catches her reflection in the mirror near the entrance of her suite: Her appearance is wild, an incarnation of a filly introduced to human touch. The metaphor fits. She’s slowly learning how to behave around someone who wants to domesticate her, how not to let her flight instincts take over, how to let herself trust Alexandra and get her to ride…

  Oops. She just lost herself in the possibilities of the comparison. She opens the door.

  “Mademoiselle Piotrowski,” the young man says, “here is your order.”

  Halina signs the bill, gives him a tip, and takes the silver tray from his hands. “Thank you very much. Please make sure we’re undisturbed?”

  “Naturally, Mademoiselle Piotrowski.”

  Closing the door with her hip, Halina grins at the look of interest on her companion’s face. “First, we have foie gras with toast and a fig and onion marmalade.” She lifts the silver cover.

  “Wow.” Alexandra whistles under her breath. “You’re not pulling your punches, are you.”

  “Followed by a chicken risotto.”

  “Yum.”

  “And for your sweet tooth,” Halina adds with a smirk, “a moelleux au chocolat.”

  The combination of Halina’s accent, her choice of dessert, and all the work she put into setting up the date pays off. Alexandra pulls her into a dirty, dirty kiss, too brief for Halina’s taste, then sinks back into the couch. She bites her lower lip, looking away to hide her crooked smile. With a deep intake of breath, she faces Halina. “Feed me.”

  Halina laughs. She delicately deposits a piece of foie gras on a piece of toast with some of the marmalade and offers it to Alexandra. “Hungry?”

  “Starving,” Alexandra replies as she kisses the back of Halina’s hand before taking the toast. “Thanks.”

  Halina’s cheeks probably turn an ugly shade of red, but she dismisses her bashfulness at Alexandra’s gratitude with a wave of her hand and sticks the spoon in her mouth.

  With a small moan of appreciation, Alexandra bites into the toast. She puts it back on the plate and tries the risotto.

  Halina’s eyes cross when she finds herself faced with a spoon. “What are—”

  “You deserve the first bite.”

  They feed each other, alternating spoonfuls of risotto with foie gras toasts and trading light kisses every now and then. The food tastes incredible, if a little fatty, but Halina is not about to complain about that. She is a hedonist through and through, and generations of Polish heritage sing in her blood about how a little bit of fat never hurt anyone. Then too, the domesticity of feeding each other so playfully is more pleasant than she’d expected. Though she wo
uld never consider herself a romantic, Halina could be convinced this is not so bad after all. And they still have dessert, her secret weapon to get the mood of the evening slightly less romantic and more sexual.

  Halina uncovers the dessert; the chocolate cake looks innocent enough on its porcelain plate. Alexandra gently presses a teaspoon to the top of the cake, which reminds Halina of a squeezed stuffed toy in all its fluffiness. She cuts into it; her hand is firm, and her gesture is assertive. They gasp as the molten center of the cake spreads out so the chocolate covers the plate. Then Alexandra holds her spoon up for Halina to take, which is just what Halina was waiting for.

  Closing her lips around the spoon, Halina brushes her fingers against Alexandra’s wrist. She flutters her eyelashes, closes her eyes to suck on the spoon, and lets out a long, throaty moan. Halina plays dirty, reminding Alexandra of how “thankful” she can be once she gets what she wanted, but she can’t bring herself to feel remorse. Where there is a will, there is a way, and Halina is willing to do whatever it takes to get her way.

  She savors the blush on Alexandra’s cheeks, but Halina should have foreseen it wouldn’t be so easy to get her back in her bed. She should have known it would take more to throw Alexandra off her game, more than a well-placed moan and Halina’s flowing blonde hair. Halina had convinced herself she would have Alexandra between her legs once more before the end of the evening. She had even decided to reward Alexandra, an early prize for losing at Halina’s game.

  As if it could be so easy.

  Alexandra doesn’t open her mouth to accept the cake. No, the damned psotnica sticks her tongue out to lick at it with her eyes firmly on Halina. Mirroring Halina’s earlier gesture, she wraps her fingers around Halina’s wrist while she keeps licking it the same way she did when—Oh. Alternating between broad swipes of her tongue and kitten licks, Alexandra lets out little moans directed at Halina’s libido and hums of delight that efficiently redirect Halina’s blood flow. Halina can’t be sure how much her face lets on, but her hands are certainly unsteady by the time Alexandra is finished.