The Lovers (7 page)

“Bettina,” she says, her voice low, breathy as she moves down, lowering her body over mine. “Come on, baby.”

I stroke her with my fingertips, making her squirm. Then I grab her hips and pull her lower, guiding her, and let my tongue flick out over her wet, pink flesh. She does taste like the ocean: dark and damp and a little salty. And she is so slick under my tongue, the taste of her, her scent, her arousal making me hot, pleasure rolling over me in undulating waves.

I use my hands and my mouth on her, fingers and tongue and lips, exploring, experimenting with touch and taste. And her fingers are deep inside me, fucking me, but not too hard. I thrust my tongue as deeply into her as I can, and her hips are moving as I fuck her with my tongue, using the same slow, even rhythm she is using with me. I reach around and massage her clit with my fingers, and she is slippery with her juices, with my saliva.

“Suck my clit,” she tells me, and I do, taking that hard nub into my mouth. Audrey gasps, pants, and I suck harder.

“Oh, baby, yes!”

Her hips are bucking now, and she's hard to hold on to, but I suck and suck. Her fingers are pushing hard into my pussy, her thumb pressing onto my clit. I'm shaking with desire, with the need to come, but I am too into her body, her response to my hands and my mouth. Suddenly, she grinds down onto my face and I suck hard, holding her, and feel a warm, liquid rush on my lips, my tongue. It is sweet and salty, a mermaid coming into my mouth.

It's too much for me, and I come again, my body exploding, shaking with pleasure, hers and mine. We clench and unclench, thighs tensing, then finally, relaxing.

“That was so good, Bettina,” Audrey says, her voice rough, low.

She shifts, falls down onto the mattress beside me, leans over and kisses me, licks my lower lip, bites it gently.

“Was it…I mean, was I okay?”

“You were great.” She's smiling, her eyes half closed. “God, I could sleep for a week, couldn't you?”

But I am wide-awake, my body humming with energy, my mind going a thousand miles an hour, and I know sleep is far from claiming me.

“Mmm…gotta sleep,” she says, kissing my cheek. “Okay if I stay here with you?”

“Of course.”

I don't want her to leave. My heart is thudding with emotion, confusion. And as she immediately drifts off, her breathing shallow, I get up and turn off the lights, then come back to bed and lie next to her in the dark.

Audrey curls against me, one hand on my hip, and her skin is warm against mine.

What does this mean, if anything? Does it mean Audrey has feelings for me? Or simply that she's attracted to me? How do I feel about her?

God, I wish I weren't being such a girl. But at least I finally know what it's like. Maybe that's all I need to know. That I can feel this. That I can become attached to another person in some normal way.

I turn to watch her sleep, and in the light of the fog-shrouded moon and the stars coming through the sheer curtains, I can just make out her silhouette. I reach out and stroke the silk of her hair, and she shifts closer, mumbles something I can't make out. It doesn't matter. None of it matters, maybe, and it is a huge relief. It's enough just to feel like this. Just to
feel,
for once.

I listen to the gentle sound of her breath, to the hollow thunder of the ocean, to the sound of my own heart beating in my chest, and finally, I sleep.

 

I wake early—seven-thirty—and she is gone.

My heart thuds, but I command myself to calm. She is probably simply being discreet. I'm not ready to answer anyone's questions, certainly. It's better this way.

I turn onto my side and try to go back to sleep, but I can't stop thinking of her, of what happened last night. It was erotic
and beautiful and I can't feel any guilt over it. I'm not even certain why I think I should.

Go back to sleep, Bettina.

I cover my head with one of the down pillows, shutting out the sounds of the sea, but I am too much in my own head.

Is she sleeping in her own bed now? Will she come back to me tonight?

Maybe the not-feeling thing was better than this torturous doubt.

I sigh, flop onto my back, inhale the fragrance of her left all over my bed.

Audrey.

And along with it, the stale wine, the ocean scent that is ever present here.

I lie there for maybe an hour before I give up, get out of bed and get dressed. As soon as my clothes are on, I take to the beach, walking along the shore in the early gray fog.

Why is the beach such a lonely place, yet so comforting at the same time? It's as though there is a certain stability about it. The ocean will always be here, on the earth, despite the dire warnings of scientists. It's too enormous, too powerful, to ever be entirely defeated.

I roll up my cargo pants and wade into the frigid ocean, standing right at the edge of the waves as they roll onto the shore. My feet sink into the soft sand, the water making the tiny granules fill in the spaces around my toes, beneath them, then surging back out, taking the sand with it. I loved to do this as a child. I've always loved this sensation. It's like moving while holding still. Magical.

The ocean is pure magic to me: powerful, graceful. Frightening. I have some deep understanding that it holds all the secrets of the earth. It knows my secret now. That I am half in love with Audrey.

I stay for a very long time, staring out at the horizon as the sun rises in the sky, cutting through the fog. The day will be warm; I can feel the heat building already. I slip my zippered sweatshirt from my shoulders and walk back toward our part of the beach. Sitting in the sand, I dig my toes in, enjoying the dampness beneath the cool surface.

I don't want to think too much more about last night. Don't want to dissect it any more than I've already done. It is what it is. I'll know more when I see Audrey.

I want desperately to see her, but I force myself to calm, to try to internalize some of my more sensible ideas about how I should be handling all this.

I can't have been out here more than an hour, but already the group is making its way over the dunes, carrying blankets and hampers. All but Audrey.

“Bettina, you're up!” Viviane smiles at me. “Breakfast on the beach this morning, then we write. We've brought plenty of pads and pens. Or do you need to go back to your cottage to get anything before you begin?”

“No, this will be fine, I think I can work without my notes. Thanks.”

I will not ask where Audrey is.

Maybe this will be good for me, writing, being with the others. Distracting. Constructive. I haven't written nearly as much as I thought I would. Luckily, my deadlines this summer are fairly loose, so I'm not under too much pressure.

Viviane and Patrice have made a simple breakfast of pastries and fruit, and brought thermoses of hot coffee, which I accept gratefully. We eat, drink our coffee, everyone chatting quietly about the beautiful weather, about nothing at all. Everyone is relaxed. I am partly a confused knot of tension, even as another part of me is in waiting mode, accepting that I don't know what will happen next.

We finish eating and Viviane passes the pads of paper around, Leo handing out the pens. I notice his black hair shining almost blue in the morning sun, the smooth golden tone of his skin. I recognize that everything is eroticized for me right now because of last night, that I don't really have any desire for Leo Hirogata.

We all sit on the blankets, facing the water, and become lost in our stories. It takes me a few minutes, but finally I am able to sink into my work, to shut the world out and write.

We've been there for maybe an hour when Audrey arrives and sits in the sand next to me. Seeing everyone working, she quietly accepts paper and a pen and some coffee from Viviane. She smiles at me broadly, and I feel warmed by that momentary attention, able to relax now. I can talk to her later. Then she is focused, scribbling away on her pad. I am able to do the same, and I actually get some good work done on character development for my current work-in-progress.

We write for several hours, and it's getting warmer, the sun rising over the ocean, tinting it in brilliant greens and blues. The gulls are squawking at each other, diving, skimming the silver crests of the waves, and a few of them sweep in close on gray wings while we eat a simple lunch of bread, cheese and fruit. This bit of beach is so gorgeous, and I'm happy here, with Audrey sitting close by. I feel a strange sort of contentment, mixed with a low thrum of excitement in my veins. I look up and Audrey is looking right at me, smiling.

She is so beautiful, I can hardly believe it. I smile back, broadly, foolishly, I'm certain. And she laughs a little, as though we are sharing a private joke. Perhaps we are. I laugh back, making Viviane look up from her notepad.

“Is someone writing comedy?” Viviane asks, one brow raised, a small smile on her lips.

“In this group?” Audrey says. “We're all far too dark and twisted, Viv.”

“That we are,” Patrice agrees, stifling a yawn with her hand. “Anyone else ready for a siesta? I've had enough sun and I didn't bring my hat.”

“I'm done.” Kenneth stands and holds a hand out to help Patrice to her feet.

They dust sand from their shorts, and Viviane rises, gathering up the blankets, Leo helping her, casting longing glances at Audrey from beneath his spiky black lashes, and I feel a little sorry for him.

But I can't think too much about Leo right now. I'm sleepy from our late night the night before, beginning to yawn, and an afternoon nap sounds perfect. We all move up the beach toward the cypress trees. Audrey keeps pace with me, lagging behind the others.

She bumps me with her hip and whispers, “Want some company?”

I turn and smile. “Yes, definitely.”

She smiles back, then calls out, “You guys go ahead. Bettina and I are going to work some more.”

Leo looks over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing, a frown on his face, and I think,
he knows.
But it doesn't matter, does it? It's no one's business.

We slip into my cottage. It's cool inside, the wood floorboards smooth on my feet when I kick my sandals off. The afternoon sun coming through the window is diffused by the curtains and the shade of the cypress trees. Audrey drops her pad on the small table and I do the same. Then she is on me, her arms coming around my waist, pulling me close. Her skin is warm from the sun, and she smells a bit of sunscreen, that coconut-and-beach scent. It smells amazing on her.

“I missed you,” she whispers into my ear as she pulls the
clips holding my hair back, burying her fingers in the tangle of curls. “Did you miss me, Bettina?”

“Yes. I did miss you. I've been thinking about you.”

“And what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking about last night.”

“Ah. And what conclusions did you come to?”

“That I need to do it again.”

Audrey laughs, deep in her throat, then she leans in and nips gently at my neck. I am wet, shivering, instantly.

“Bettina…”

“Yes?”

“I want to take a shower with you.”

“A shower?”

“I'm feeling…dirty.”

“Oh…”

I feel foolish, but I am not about to refuse. Audrey steps back and strips her clothes off in seconds. She stands there, naked, glorious, looking at me. “Well? Get naked, girl.”

I smile—I can't help myself—and take my clothes off, letting them drop in a small pile at my feet. I can't believe how erotic it is, simply standing naked together on the sun-warmed wooden floor, the light slanting in, casting everything in gentle gold and white.

“Come on,” she says, taking my hand and leading me into the small bathroom.

I lean in and run the water in the shower, and we step in together. She pushes me under the water and it flows over me, just warm enough on this hot afternoon. She moves in, joining me under the spray, until we are both wet all over, then she grabs my bottle of shampoo, pulls my hand up and squeezes some into my palm.

“Wash my hair, Bettina? And I'll wash yours.”

“Yes. Sure.”

There is an innocence to what we're doing, just being wet, washing each other's hair. Except that I am on fire, my body burning with lust. And when her sudsy fingers go into my hair, massaging my scalp, my sex clenches with need.

Audrey is standing behind me, her hands in my wet hair, and I feel the tips of her breasts brush against my back. They're hard, warm. Then she moves around me and pulls me under the water, and I close my eyes as she rinses my hair clean. And as the water cascades over my face she is kissing me, and everything is wet: our lips, my skin, my pussy, tight with need.

She arches into me, until our mounds are pressed tightly together, our breasts crushed, soft flesh to soft flesh. Her tongue is sliding over mine, and she tastes like water, clean and pure.

Finally, she pulls back and says to me, “Spread your legs, baby.”

I look at her, and she is more lovely than ever, the water sliding down her tanned skin. I smile, do as she asks.

Audrey reaches around me and takes the shower sprayer from its hook, and my smile broadens. I lean into the tiles of the shower, and watch as she slips to her knees in the bottom of the tub.

“Wider, baby, that's it.”

She uses her soft fingers to part my aching pussy lips, then aims the spray of water right at my clitoris. I am moaning in seconds, my body pulsing with pleasure. She leans in and licks at my hard clit, the sensations amazing: her mouth and the water at the same time, everything so warm and slippery.

“Audrey…I'm going to come!”

“Come on then, baby.”

She sits back on her heels, her dark hair streaming down her naked back, and aims the sprayer at my clit once more,
using her fingers to massage the lips of my sex. Pleasure is warm, undulating, a serpent in my system, spiraling higher and higher. And I come, softly, my legs shaking, my moans a breathy plea for more.