The Song in My Heart (18 page)

Erika stroked her cheek tenderly. “And you’re incredible. And lovely. And so sexy.”

“Hmm, does that mean we’re having a stay-at-home date again tonight? That may or may not involve us getting out of bed?”

“Well,” Erika said, nuzzling her neck and planting tiny kisses. “I’d always vote for that kind of date with you. But actually, do you know what I really want to do with you tonight?”

Dess could only imagine, and she grew wet at the visions that began rampaging through her mind. “Tell me,” she said throatily.

Erika cupped Dess’s breast and laughingly said, “Okay, I want to do all those things you’re imagining too. Especially before Sloane returns tomorrow.”

“But?” Dess’s heart began to sink a little.

“But nothing, sweetheart. Except that I want to go onstage with you tonight. Just the two of us. And only for fifteen minutes or so.”

“What? Where?”

“My friend Laurie owns a coffee house in the gay district. It’s open mic night tonight.”

“But wouldn’t you rather stay here and…you know?” Dess grinned, her hand creeping down to Erika’s stomach. Then lower. But Erika’s eyes were dancing at the prospect of performing as a duo, and Dess knew she would be hard to dissuade.

“Of course I would. But I want to share you with the world. I want to be on a stage with the woman I want to be with more than anyone else in the world.” Erika captured her hand to still it. “I want to look at you as I sing, knowing the words are only for you. I want to celebrate the way we feel about each other doing what I love doing the most.” Erika kissed her on the mouth. “Well, besides pleasuring you.”

The love sparkling in Erika’s eyes stalled Dess’s heart.
Oh God, she’s so in love with me. And I can’t say no to her.
“Okay, let’s do it. But just two or three songs, all right?”

Erika wrapped her leg around Dess’s middle. “You have plans for me afterwards?”

“You could say that,” Dess teased, cupping her. Erika nipped her finger, then drew it into her mouth and began slowly sucking it. Dess gasped at the sight of her lover fellating her finger, and it charged her desire all over again. “Keep that up and we’ll never get out of here.”

“I wouldn’t be tempted if you weren’t so damned hot. But if we’re going to perform tonight, I guess we better figure out which songs to do.”

“Can we do some dirty ones?”

Erika kissed her on the chin. “We can do anything you want. Anytime.”

“I plan to take you up on that.”

“I’d be very disappointed if you didn’t.”

* * *

Laurie Skilling had been a mentor to Erika in her early singing years, when she was struggling to be heard as a singer at night and taking college courses during the day. Laurie was more than a mentor; she was a mother figure who’d offered Erika and other college students like her a place of safety and encouragement. She was, as she described herself, a big ol’ butch, who, if she’d had a daughter, would have wanted it to be Erika. She always gave her an open mic at the café and helped her find paying gigs. Erika remembered the first time she’d walked in, her battered guitar slung over her shoulder, her confidence about the size of a pea. Laurie didn’t even ask if she could sing before she signed her up for a time slot, gave her a hug, then told the crowd that if anybody gave the kid a hard time, they’d have to deal with
her
.

Their hug was long and meaningful, then Laurie moved to hug Dess…well, Dora…just as intensely.

“You look familiar, honey.” Laurie’s eyes traveled over Dess like she was studying an exotic creature. “Your eyes. Something about your eyes. Where have I seen you before?”

Dess patted her wig in a self-conscious fashion, and Erika instinctively stepped in front of her. “All right. You found us out. She’s really Kelly Clarkson in disguise, wanting to slum it at your café.”

Laurie frowned, then broke into a laugh so deep it was a roar that jiggled her over-sized belly. “You got me there, kid. Kelly, welcome to my dump. Now get your asses up there and knock the shit out of the crowd like I know you’re going to.”

“Whew, that was close,” Dess whispered, unpacking her guitar from its case backstage.

“It’s okay. Laurie’s one of the good ones. Even if you told her who you were, she wouldn’t tell anybody.” Erika captured Dess’s eyes with her own. “But it’s for you to tell, not me.”

“Thank you for that.” Dess leaned in and kissed her on the mouth, and Erika wanted to scoop her up and find the nearest dark corner.

“You keep kissing me like that,” Erika whispered, “and we’ll never get on stage.”

Dess shrugged, pitched a smile at her. “Okay by me.”

“Nice try, but you’re not getting out of this so easily. Next to being in bed, the stage is where I love spending time with you.”

Something deep stirred inside Erika whenever she and Dess performed on a stage together. It was like a switch turning on. A switch that turned her world from black and white to full color. There was magic present, and it was because of Dess. Dess possessed such a quiet, calm charisma. A confidence that an earthquake couldn’t dislodge. Her playing was smooth as butter too, and just knowing she was there, this woman who’d performed in front of crowds a hundred times this size, filled Erika with a fearlessness she felt she could ride to the very top.

“Ready for ‘Smile’?” Erika said, and Dess nodded.

They stepped onto the stage, which felt not much bigger than a postage stamp. Dess plugged her guitar into an amp. Erika stepped behind the keyboards, and they waited for Laurie to take the microphone and introduce them. The crowd, Erika was happy to see, was large for the small venue. Every table was filled and a few people stood as well, but few were paying them any attention.

“Listen up, folks,” Laurie announced in her no-nonsense way. “You’re in for a real special treat tonight! And you’re gonna want to remember this night and this woman’s name, trust me. Put your hands together for my good friend Erika Alvarez and her accompanist, Dora Hessler!”

The reception was polite but tepid, and that was okay with Erika. She was here, with Dess—the woman she loved—doing the thing she loved doing most with Dess. Well, okay, the second best thing she loved doing with Dess.

“Thanks, everyone,” Erika said into the mic perched on the keyboard. “Thanks very much. It’s a real pleasure to be here and to spend some time with y’all.” She gave them a playful wink. “We’re going to start things off with a little ‘Smile.’”

She played the opening notes, keeping the beat jaunty. Dess came in with the acoustic guitar after the intro, and Erika’s heart soared. Dess did make her smile like the sun, made her feel all the crazy things the song talked about. She hoped with all her being that Dess felt the same way about her. She was pretty certain in the way Dess touched her that she did, but she ached for her to say the words. She smiled at Dess, was rewarded with a grin. She scanned the audience. Heads began turning in their direction. Conversations stopped. The crowd was right where she wanted them—attentive, curious, on the edge of delightful discovery. It was intoxicating playing to an audience that had never heard them before and seeing folks swing from indifference to exuberant appreciation. Eclipsing their expectations provided a high like little else.

The song ended, and the crowd cheered loudly, almost endlessly. A few wolf whistles pierced the air.

“Well, thank you very much,” Erika said into the microphone. She never took the applause and appreciation for granted. “Something tells me you liked that one, hmm?”

“Yeah, baby!” a woman yelled. “Give us more!”

Erika laughed. “All right. How about I give you something a little sweet?”

She started into “How Sweet It Is,” but not the fast tempo Motown version. This one she slowed down to a sultry, sexy, bluesy pace. She sang the words to Dess, watching her deftly move her fingers along the fretboard and sway her body to the beat.
Oh, that body,
Erika thought, remembering the feel of her soft skin beneath her fingers, the taut muscles, the curves. Already she was beginning to memorize everything about Dess’s body, about what Dess liked, what made her crazy with desire, what she begged for.

Dess returned her gaze, smiled at her, and Erika’s heart lifted to the ceiling. It was incredible, unfathomable, that one woman’s smile could make her feel as though the tumultuous seas of her life had calmed, as though all her roads converged in one direction. It was as though all the love and affection her parents had withheld from her throughout her life now coalesced in a fierce desire to shower Dess with all her love. The knowledge that she possessed so much love—a revelation, really—empowered her to share it.

“And now,” she announced after a consenting nod from Dess, “a very special song that we’ve never performed before. It’s called ‘The Song in My Heart.’”

Dess played the slow, opening riff. Erika sang and stroked the keys to begin the verse, closing her eyes and singing with every ounce of love, desire, companionship and happiness she felt with Dess. It was perfection—her voice, the guitar and keyboards, the lyrics, the joyful melody—the way it all came together. And the audience knew it too. After a moment of stunned silence, they clapped and hooted and demanded more.

“Sorry,” Erika told them. “Laurie was very firm with us that three songs was it, and you all know how she can be.”

There was a collective groan, but it was the kind that said they were disappointed but accepting. There were other acts lined up behind the stage, ready to perform. And besides, Erika couldn’t wait to get Dess back to her apartment again, fantasies of stand-up sex in the shower giving her fresh motivation to get moving.

“
That
is a surefire hit,” Laurie told them near the back door.

Erika kissed her on the cheek. “I sure hope you’re right, Laur.”
Hit or not
, she thought,
it’s our song. Mine and Dess’s
.
And it’s perfect
.

“I am right.” Laurie leaned closer. “Am I also right in thinking you got a little somethin’ goin’ on with Miss Hessler?”

Erika winked. “Yeah, you’d be right about that. And it’s more than a little something.”

“Good for you. And you owe me a longer visit. Come by when you can stay, and we’ll catch up.”

“Thanks for tonight. And I will, I promise.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Laurie was shaking her head, unconvinced. “That’s what they all say on their way to fame and fortune.”

After stuffing Dess’s guitar case into the back seat, Erika grabbed Dess’s wrist and spun her around.

Dess grinned slyly. “What?”

“Have I told you lately how sexy you are?”

“No, it’s been a couple of hours. I was wondering when you were going to get around to it again.”

“Well, you…are…one…
hell
of a sexy woman.” Erika breathed in her scent, let it fill her lungs. Then her heart.

“Not as sexy as you, my dear. Not even close. Come here.” Dess kissed her, flinging her arms around her neck, and Erika waited for the words she knew weren’t coming.

That’s okay, Dess,
she thought.
I have you. And that’s enough.

Chapter Sixteen

Sloane had a penchant for making an entrance. She flung the apartment door open and thrust out two fistfuls of flowers—daisies in one hand, roses in the other. “For my two lovely ladies!”

“And to what do we owe this?” Dess asked, kissing her best friend on the cheek and accepting the flowers.

“For so graciously lending me out to Melissa.” Skinny as a fence post and shaggy haired, Sloane was looking every bit the part of rocker chick. “She says hi, by the way, asked how you were doing.”

Dess entered Erika’s tiny kitchen in search of two flower vases, Sloane behind her. She settled for a couple of chipped coffee mugs and filled them with water. “I hope you didn’t tell her about Dora Hessler.”

“Nope. But I did tell her about Erika. Where is she, anyway?”

“Taking Maggie for an epic walk. Want some coffee? I was just going to make some.”

“Sure. You look right at home in Erika’s kitchen.”

Dess filled the kettle and plugged it in, then spooned some ground coffee into the French press.

“Holy shit,” Sloane proclaimed, dropping loudly into a chair at the tiny table for two.

“What?” Dess pulled out two more coffee mugs.

“You’re sleeping with her.”

Dess refused to answer what hadn’t been a question.

A slow smile spread across Sloane’s face, one that said, “You can’t fool me, sister.”

“It’s more than that, isn’t it?” Sloane suggested.

“What?”

“The sex! I can see all over your face that you’re having the time of your life in bed with her. But you’re falling for her too, just like I thought.”

“Okay, wait. You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“What? You’re saying I’m wrong that it’s not the best sex you’ve ever had?”

Dess’s face burned, and she got up to pour the boiling water into the coffee press. Yes, it was the best sex she’d ever had. Hands down. But as for the rest…

“C’mon, spill the deets, Dessy!”

The heat in her face, in her chest, intensified. “I will not!”

Sloane sighed, feigning disappointment. “Fine. But at least admit Erika’s a hottie in bed.”

Hands defiantly on her hips, Dess tried to glower at her friend, but it was useless against the smile that refused to be smothered. “All right, yes,” she whispered, as though Erika were lurking outside the kitchen.

“Ha, I knew it.”

Dess filled their mugs and brought them to the table.

“And the other?” Sloane prompted.

Dess sat down, stirred cream and sugar into her mug. “What other?”

“That you’re happy as hell and in love with each other.”

Dess frowned. Erika was in love with her, that part was true. But she wasn’t sure yet how she felt about Erika. Other than happy. And insanely satisfied in bed. “I’m not so sure yet I would describe it that way.”

“What do you mean you aren’t sure? You look happy, Dess. Happier than I’ve ever seen you. And I know you love Erika.”

“It’s not that simple.”