The Lovers (8 page)

I shiver for long moments, then Audrey stands and wraps her arms around me, kisses my mouth.

“My turn now,” she says.

I am still shaky, but I get down on my knees, and she raises one leg and rests her foot on the edge of the tub. She is wanton, her legs spread, and I can see her pink sex, wet and open, and another surge of pleasure goes through me. I use my fingers on her first, playing with the swollen folds, then slipping inside.

Her head falls back, and she whispers, “Oh, yes.”

Holding the sprayer in one hand, I let the water play over her clit, a hard pink nub between her naked pussy lips, and I use my other hand to impale her: one finger, then two. She is wet inside, slick, and she is squirming, panting, as I work her, her hips arching into my hand.

“Oh…oh!”

Then she is coming, her hips jerking hard, her pussy clenching around my thrusting fingers. And she is more beautiful to me than ever.

We stay in the shower for a long time, quiet, sated, washing each other, our soapy hands slippery on each other's skin. When we finally get out we are both pink all over from the heat. From coming, maybe.

“Come on,” Audrey says, “let's take a nap. I'm so sleepy.”

“Yes, me too. Let's sleep. I just want to curl up with you.”

She takes my hand and we climb onto my bed. And I am thinking vaguely how different this is, being with a woman, just as she'd said. It's softer, and perhaps I have needed this.
Because I do feel healed, somehow. And it's not just Audrey's magic, but the
femaleness
of it. Of her, of us together.

We are curled up together, naked, on top of the blue-and-white quilt, like a pair of kittens. That sweet. That innocent. And we sleep in the gentle afternoon sunlight, the ocean soothing us, like a mother's lullaby neither of us can remember.

We're on the beach again, all of us, writing, brainstorming our way through blocks, drinking cool iced tea from the big thermoses Viviane always brings. The ocean is our constant companion, the waves rolling onto the beach, then receding, as though it can't make up its mind.

I am a little in dreamland today, but I'm comfortable here, with these people who have quietly become my friends in the last ten days, or at least familiar to me. After a week with Audrey she is still as much a mystery to me as her body is familiar. And yet, I feel that I know her, and she knows me, perhaps because we have shared our secrets. I've shared some of my fears, but I know she still holds a lot back from me.

We have established a pattern already, a way of life here. Another set of rituals in which I find comfort. Not only Audrey and me, but the entire group. I've come to be familiar with everyone's little quirks: the pure sweetness that is Kenneth, the glimpses of softness beneath Patrice's sharp exterior, Leo's odd, dark sense of humor and awkwardness, Viviane's mothering tendencies, such a contrast to her cool and glamorous rock-and-roll exterior. And I find myself wishing this would
never change, that we could be here at Viviane's house, in this summer, forever.

But nothing lasts forever, isn't that what they say?

It starts with Audrey yelping as she jumps to her feet. She is racing across the sand toward someone, but all I can see from where I'm sitting is a silhouette against the sun. Audrey launches herself at the figure, her arms and legs wrapping around him. And I know who it is: Jack.

Her weight makes him stumble back, and they fall over together onto the sand. I can hear their laughter. And I can see him now, or what little of him is visible beneath Audrey's veil of hair as she lies on top of him in the sand. He's tall, with one of those long, wiry builds. His hair is dark, curly, a little too long. Then they are kissing, and jealousy is a hard pit in my stomach. I feel nauseous.

“That must be Jack,” I say stupidly to the others.

Viviane has an odd half smile on her lips. “Yes, that's Jack.”

Kenneth is getting up then, a grin on his face as he calls out, “Hey there, you two! Let the rest of us say hello.”

He ambles off toward Audrey and Jack, and Leo follows. Patrice glances at Viviane briefly, and I wonder once more what it might mean, but vaguely. I'm distracted by Jack's arrival, by Audrey draped all over him.

Leo drags Jack and Audrey to their feet, and Kenneth pulls Jack into a bear hug, then Leo does one of those hand-shaking, slap-on-the-back things men do. They all come back to where we're sitting, and I see him for the first time. Jack.

He's even taller up close, with broad shoulders. His face and his arms are tanned, and there's a heavy, black tribal tattoo peeking from the left sleeve of his black T-shirt, with some sort of lettering beneath it. His mouth is lush and wide. Great bone structure, with a little dark stubble growing along his
jaw. But his eyes…they are a shifting dark and pale green with touches of gray, like the sea itself. Amazing. Compelling. And I am furious with my response to him: heat, desire like a punch in the stomach.

I do not want to like this man Audrey is so excited to see. Who kisses her in front of everyone as though he has some right to.

Maybe he does.

I feel my cheeks go uncomfortably hot, and my fingers clench.

Fuck.

That hasn't occurred to me.

Obviously there is something between Jack and Audrey. What does that mean for me? Is whatever has happened between Audrey and me over? It occurs to me that I may have intruded on a relationship I didn't know existed.

I hate this idea. It makes my time with Audrey seem tawdry, rather than beautiful and enlightening, and I am so upset suddenly, my vision blurs with tears. I turn out to face the sea, let the power of it drain some of the tension from me before the others see.

I don't want to see Audrey in Jack's arms, but after a few moments I have to turn and look, have to greet him so I won't seem rude. But he's smiling at me. He is watching me in that same sort of careful way Audrey has, his gaze seeming to pierce me. My cheeks go hot again.

“This must be our shy Bettina,” Jack says, his voice deep, resonant, a little husky.

He grins and it's impossible not to smile in return; he is so sincere, so friendly. Audrey is clinging to his arm, her eyes alight with excitement, and I can see why. He is letting her, but not really paying attention to her as he takes my hand in his, his grasp warm and dry, his palms a little rough, as though
he works with his hands. He seems so…elementally male to me. And his touch makes me go warm and liquid all over.

Whatever is wrong with me? It must be some leftover from last night, a lingering sensation of desire in my system. Or maybe somewhere in my subconscious I'm worried that being with Audrey means I'm a lesbian, even though on a conscious level this doesn't concern me at all. I've never been one to be concerned with labels, for myself or anyone else.

Maybe I am simply losing my mind.

He is still holding my hand, those ocean-green eyes on mine. His smile is slow and languorous, as though we have all the time in the world to stand here and shake hands. Finally, he lets go, and he is absorbed by the group as we walk back to our spot. But I notice that Viviane stands back, watching as Kenneth jokes with Jack, the two of them laughing. Leo is practically dancing with excitement on the sand, and even Patrice seems entranced by him, sticking close to his side, touching his arm as they talk.

Audrey pulls Jack down onto the blanket and feeds him bits of pastry with her fingers. He is smiling at her, laughing and sucking the sugar from her fingertips, and it is purely erotic to me, watching them together, even as a knot forms in my stomach.

I don't know who I am more jealous of: Audrey or Jack.

I am an idiot.

Somehow we get through the rest of the morning as we all settle in to write. There is the occasional murmur as some one either loves or hates whatever they are working on. And sometimes when I glance up, Jack and Audrey are smiling at each other, or she is pouring coffee for him.

They are too beautiful together. Perfect, really. I feel more the fool than ever.

The sun is high overhead and it's really getting hot. I wipe the sweat from my forehead and put my pad down on the sand.

“It is getting warm, isn't it?” Patrice remarks. “I'm going back to the house.”

“Good idea.” Viviane sets her pad down beside her, stretches her arms over her head. “Why don't we all go back. Maybe have our usual afternoon siesta before lunch.”

“Excellent idea.” Kenneth nods and stands.

Leo gets up, then Jack, who pulls Audrey to her feet as though she doesn't weigh anything. She doesn't. I remember her body laid out on mine just last night. What is that old-fashioned saying? Bones like a bird.

We pack up and everyone helps to carry everything back to the main house, leaving the blankets and the wicker hamper in the sitting area off the kitchen.

“I'll put this away later,” Viviane says. “By the way, Jack, the red cottage is yours.”

“Thanks, Viv. I'll grab my stuff from my car. I could use a nap.”

He flashes her a smile that would melt ice. Pure white teeth. He has a dimple in his left cheek, just like Audrey. I'm not sure why this bothers me so much.

Maybe because they really are so perfectly matched.

Jack goes out through the back door, and as I rinse the morning's coffee mugs and load them into the dishwasher, I can't even pretend not to watch out the kitchen window as Jack opens the door of a big, black truck. Audrey is right behind him. The door hides most of their bodies, but I can see from the position of their feet, their heads through the dusty car window, as she sinks into him. I can tell they are body to body as he leans in and kisses her. A mug slips from my hands, crashes into the bottom of the steel sink, chipping.

“Damn it.”

“Don't worry, doll,” Viviane comforts. “I have more.”

I turn and give her what I'm sure is a washed-out smile.

“Hey.” She takes my chin in gentle fingers. “Why so sad?”

“I'm not sad.” I try to turn away, but she holds me firmly.

“Everyone's gone to nap. You can tell me.”

“I don't…I honestly don't know. I mean…God, that's a lie. I do know.” I bite my lip. “It's Audrey.”

“Ah.” Viviane drops her hand. “Honey, there is something you should understand about Audrey. She's full of passion and brilliance, and is more lovable than she knows. Oh, she throws herself at everyone, it's in her nature. And we all bask in her blazing light while she's focused on us. Then she finds someone else to dazzle. Don't take it personally. I know that feeling. She makes you her best friend and then she disappears. Jack is a bit the same, that dazzle. And Jack always distracts her.”

“Yes.”

“But?”

“But…it's complicated.”

“Ah.”

I look up at her. “What do you mean, ‘ah'?”

“It's none of my business.” Viviane picks up a dish towel and begins to dry a mug, but her gaze is still on me.

I fidget, my fingers twisting together. I don't know what to say. This is not something I'd planned to talk about. Hell, I haven't even had time to really think about it myself. But if I can't tell Viviane, who has been so good to me, I can't tell anyone.

“Viviane.” I pause, waiting for her to put the cup down and really look at me. “Something has happened, with Audrey.”

She nods, her shoulder-length black hair swinging. The sunlight makes the purple streaks blaze like fire. “Okay.”

“That's it? Just ‘okay'?”

“You're both big girls. I've been with other women before. I'm hardly going to judge you.”

“No, I never thought…I didn't think you would. I just don't know how to talk about it yet. I don't know how to even think about it.”

“You don't have to tell me anything, Tina. I shouldn't have pressed you. I'm sorry, babe. I'm just concerned for you, that's all. I don't want to see you hurting. But you do your thing. No one has to report in around here. Okay?”

“Okay. Okay.”

“We're all a little tired today. Too much sun, maybe. Why don't you lie down for a while.”

“Yes, I'll do that.”

She drops the towel and gives my hand a quick squeeze. “Dinner is at seven. Skip lunch, if you like. Or come up and help yourself whenever. There's plenty of sandwich stuff. I'm going to let everyone do their own thing this afternoon.”

I nod and watch her walk out of the kitchen, then turn and do the same, heading through the front door, then making my way over the short gravel path to my cottage. The sound of laughter stops me short, and I stand for a moment, listening to Jack and Audrey in his cottage.

I do not want to hear this.

I move past, swing the blue door to my cottage open, and retreat inside. I strip my sandy clothes off and lie down on top of the crisp blue-and-white quilt, and let the ocean drown out the sounds of Audrey and Jack together. But my heart is beating in my chest in an uneven rhythm, as though something inside me has chipped, just like the cup I dropped into the sink. Only I am not so easily replaced. And I hope, not so easily forgotten.

I feel more invisible than ever.

 

I was certain I would lie awake in my bed, straining to hear Audrey with Jack. Or Jack with Audrey. I'm still not clear on which scenario bothers me more. Ridiculous. But I must have fallen right to sleep feeling sorry for myself; I don't remember. Now I'm awake and stiff from having slept in a bad position, facedown in the pillows, on top of the covers. The room is growing dark, and it's chilly and damp. I'm still wearing the same clothes I put on this morning. The cuffs of my pants are crusted with sand and salt. I roll over onto my side and stretch, yawning, my eyes focusing on a few grains of sand scattered over the quilt, barely visible in the fading light, but if I narrow my eyes I can see that some are dark in color, some nearly clear, like tiny bits of crystal.

I am still trying not to listen, but I do, anyway. All I catch is the usual dull roar of the surf and the thoughts racing through my head: What is the nature of Jack and Audrey's relationship? What does it mean for me? Was I nothing more than a few hours of pleasure for her, if even that? Is this something she does all the time? Maybe they have an agreement about her sleeping with women?

Why do I care so damn much?

Part of it, I think, is that being with her was ultimately as much about connecting with her on some deeper level as it was about the chemistry. Which was, undeniably, intense. It still is.

Maybe I just need to be happy with this experience and move on.

Right. Because all my years in therapy have shown me how great I am at moving on.

I sigh, roll into a sitting position. I'm hungry, but I don't feel like going up to the house, seeing anyone. I don't want to see Audrey and Jack there, happy together. I don't want to
not
see them there and imagine them still together in his cottage. In his bed.

I am all fucked up.

Maybe I should leave, just go home, back to my old, uncomplicated life. But I don't really want to leave this place. I want to stay here and get over these feelings.

I just want to stay here.

Moving into the bathroom, I strip down and step under the spray of steaming water. It makes me feel a little better, initially. A hot shower always does. The heat and the water are soothing, safe, somehow. I've had a number of dreams over the years of being in a big shower, always beautifully tiled in brown and green, filled with steam and fragrant soap and the hot water coming down on my skin. I have no idea what it means, except that I'm always calm, serene.

It's also one of my favorite places to masturbate. I could take the shower sprayer in my hand and aim it right at my clit. It works every time, makes me go off like a rocket, just as I've done in this very place with Audrey, over and over. But I'm too tired, too
something,
and for once I don't even want to get myself off.