Bliss (3 page)

The office intercom buzzed and Shelly's voice filled the air.
"Regina Velasquez calling for you, Miss Sinclair."

Sinclair's fingers twitched against the computer keys and
typed three extra t's.

"Put her through."

She took a deep breath and picked up the phone.

"You didn't call me last night." Regina's southern drawl
wrapped around the words like hot molasses.

"I didn't know that I was supposed to."

"You were, but I forgive you. Did you read any of my essays?"

"Yes. A few." Sinclair wiped her damp palms on her
slacks.

"What did you think?"

"They're good. Very ... vivid."

Regina laughed again while Sinclair's stomach rearranged
itself. "That's something, I suppose."

"Is that how you pick up people?"

"What makes you think I was trying to pick you up?"
Regina asked.

Sinclair had walked right into that one. In all of Regina's
essays, she never once mentioned the gender of the person
she was with. There had been body parts sprinkled throughout, a liberal mentioning of penises and vaginas, breasts and
buttocks that left Sinclair absolutely bewildered and painfully aroused.

"Are you?" Sinclair felt bold enough to ask.

"Yes." The other woman's laughter was full bodied and
captivating. Sinclair imagined Regina throwing her head
back, white teeth flashing, her long neck arched.

"Well, you know that I'm seeing someone," Sinclair said.
Her hand tightened on the phone. Yuen had never made her
feel like this. Hot in her belly and dry-mouthed. Sinclair knew that she should have been more nervous, hesitant, but
Regina's seduction was so shameless and genuine that her
own responses were too.

"So am I," Regina said. "Do you want to come to dinner
with me tonight?"

She couldn't say no. Her body remembered the promise in
Regina's book, in her low laughter. But she hesitated. What
about Yuen? He would be expecting to see her soon, maybe
even tonight. What would be her excuse? Sorry darling, this
stranger propositioned me and I was a little curious about
my attraction to women so I'm going to try her out and see
what happens. That obviously wouldn't work.

In the end Sinclair called to invite him to breakfast on
Sunday, apologizing that she couldn't see him before then.
Still, she knew he would call to wrangle an invitation to
Saturday dinner as well. She'd deal with that when the time
came. In the meantime she tried to convince herself that there
was nothing for her to feel guilty about. At least not yet.

Dinner was at a Mediterranean restaurant near Regina's
house. The decor was stark. Sky blue walls and white columns,
the scent of olives in the air despite whatever else was going
on in the kitchen. Regina pulled Sinclair's chair out for her, then
waited until she sat down.

"I have a few suggestions, if you don't mind," she murmured near Sinclair's ear.

Sinclair didn't mind. She'd never been to a place like this
before and welcomed guidance. When the dark-haired waitress appeared, Regina took charge.

"We'll have the moussaka, dolmas, the stuffed shrimp
with spinach and feta, tiropita, and a bottle of your house
red."

That was her idea of making a few suggestions? She saw
Sinclair's expression and laughed again. "I know. I'm overbearing, but you'll love it. I promise." Her eyes gleamed. "You
have to try everything."

When the food came, Sinclair picked over it cautiously,
prodding the dolmas-grape leaves stuffed with rice and
herbs, apparently-and barely tasted the moussaka with its
unpalatable blend of eggplant, ground beef, and zucchini
swimming in a god-awful white sauce. The spanakopita was
good though. Sinclair sipped her wine and watched Regina.
The writer ate her meal in big, voluptuous bites that left her
mouth white with bechamel sauce. Her pink tongue swept
the paleness away in preparation for another bite.

"Come, taste this." Regina held a dolma perched between
her thumb and index finger. When Sinclair lifted her hand to
take it, she pulled it away and shook her head. "With your
mouth."

Regina fed her the dolma, waiting patiently while her teeth
bit through the thick concoction of grape leaves and seasoned
rice, the soft pads of her fingers resting against Sinclair's lips
all the while. Sinclair couldn't meet her eyes. She wondered
briefly if she shouldn't be more uncomfortable with this. It
didn't matter. She ate the other half of the dolma in one neat
bite.

"So the person that I met the other night, was that a man
or a woman?"

Sinclair almost choked on her wine. "Very funny. Yuen is
very much a man."

"A very beautiful one."

"Yes. We've been together for about two years."

"It's a serious relationship, then?"

"It's exclusive, if that's what you mean."

"Up until now." Regina's eyes danced in the candlelight.
She was so sure of herself.

"Until now." Sinclair released the admission, finally voicing her desire for much more than a friendship with this
woman.

"Does he please you in bed?" Regina bit into a flaky
spinach pastry, then licked the crumbs from her mouth.

"Yes. Yes, he does."

"You don't sound so sure."

"I think you're the one who doesn't want me to be sure.
He does satisfy me in bed. Can we move beyond that, please?"

"Of course." Regina sipped her wine. A bit of red lingered
on her mouth. She caught Sinclair's gaze and smiled. "Curious?"

Sinclair knew that she would be lying if she said no.
Instead of replying she bit into her dolma and chewed as if
that would save her from answering. Regina stood up over
the low candles and leaned in to kiss her. Sinclair stopped
chewing. Regina's lips pressed harder into hers, then softened. She licked Sinclair's mouth, bit the plump softness of
her lips until the other woman sighed and opened her mouth
for more. Sinclair's body began a slow melt, heating until
every bit of moisture in her body was pooled between her
thighs. Her fingers slid into Regina's hair to pull the woman
closer. When Regina drew back, Sinclair's dolma was in her
mouth. She finished chewing what Sinclair had started and
swallowed.

"Does that satisfy any of your curiosity?"

When the check came, Regina took it before Sinclair
could. As the waitress leaned over to pick up the bill and its
generous tip, Regina smiled over the flickering candles, her
eyes lazy with seduction.

"Come home with me."

Those simple words ignited a fire between Sinclair's legs.
She couldn't say no. In the elevator to the penthouse apartment, Regina watched her from the other side of the copperand-bronze fitted cage, smiling.

"I'm not going to touch you now. If I do I won't be able to
stop. Don't want to frighten my neighbors."

Sinclair tried for levity. "They spook easily, like horses?"

"Something like that."

The elevator bell sounded. Regina ushered her through a
well-lit hallway into an apartment that was all darkness and
warmth. The scent of pine filled Sinclair's nose. The apart ment was ornate but impersonally furnished. Anyone could
have lived there. Sinclair trembled with an unknown fear.
They moved through the darkness to the bedroom.

"Relax."

In a rustle of sound, Regina was on her. She kissed Sinclair,
softly, as if trying not to frighten her. It was just like kissing a
man, Sinclair decided, except for the press of two soft breasts
against her.

"Touch them if you want," Regina murmured, nibbling on
her lips then the slope of her neck.

Sinclair took a deep shuddering breath. With no table between them, no restaurant, no ambiguous flirtation, it was
on. Regina took Sinclair's hand and pressed it against her
breast.

"I'm going to fuck you." She bit Sinclair's lip. "If there's
anything that you don't want, just tell me. Otherwise I'm
going to take this." Regina cupped her through her trousers.

There was only one word left for Sinclair to say. "Yes."

Regina pushed her into the mint-smelling sheets and pressed
her fingers into Sinclair, devoured her mouth, her breasts and
pussy until she was incoherent with want.

"This isn't a man touching you, is it?"

"No." Sinclair gasped when the other woman's fingers slid
deep inside her, quickly finding the spot that made her breathless, made her sweat and beg. She didn't even know that it
existed. "God!"

"Just call me Regina." Still in her silk suit, she turned
Sinclair over and slid up behind her, biting and caressing,
inviting her to stain the silk with her sweat and cum.

"Come. It's all right. That doesn't mean the night's over."

Sinclair did, panting like a freight train as she collapsed beneath the other woman. Her own loudness made her blink at
the ceiling in surprise. She half expected to see a mirror up
there.

Regina shrugged off her skirt and blouse. She was com pletely naked underneath, ready with her small hard breasts
and curvaceous hips. Sinclair reached for her, cupping her
hips with wonder. They were soft and laced with fine lines
that were almost invisible until the flesh was close enough to
kiss. Sinclair's fingernails traced the rounded ass, the thick
thighs.

"Time for that later, baby." Regina touched Sinclair's
mouth with damp fingers. "Open your legs for me." She slid
down Sinclair's body and tasted her, licked her, slid her tongue
in and over her until Sinclair's throat was raw from gasping.

With the last of Sinclair's noises echoing in their ears,
Regina lifted up her head, then her whole body. "That was
your first lesson. I'm about to give you a pop quiz." Regina
straddled Sinclair's face, opening up her shaved cunt to her
inspection. "Do your best. I'll guide you through it."

Sinclair wanted to stare. The writer was pale and pink,
and glistening, her clit hard and distended. Above her, Regina
caressed her own nipples, squeezing and pinching until they
were the color of raspberries.

"It's just like eating a peach, only you don't use your
teeth." She undulated her hips above Sinclair, signaling her
readiness.

It wasn't like eating a peach at all, Sinclair decided. It was
better. The soft, wet flesh slid under her tongue like a salted
oyster. She smelled gingery here, too, her musk addictive and,
right now, very necessary.

"A little lower, sweetheart. Slip your tongue-hmm.
Exactly. . . " Regina's voice trailed off on a deep moan.

Sinclair was a fast learner. She remembered how she liked
to touch herself. With her tongue lavishing Regina's clit with
focused attention, she slid two fingers deep inside her new
lover and was rewarded with a sharp gasp and the trembling
of the soft thighs bracketing her face. Regina pressed harder
against her mouth. Her thighs quaked and started to give
out. Sinclair sped up the hummingbird-like flutter to her
tongue and thrust her fingers deeper. Regina gasped again, bucked on Sinclair's face as she growled long and deep and
came hard around the long fingers.

Regina laughed softly. "I knew you'd be a keeper."

Rain started to fall, and Regina opened the windows to let
the sound in. It was not a romantic gesture, she assured
Sinclair as she stood bathed in the soft light from the bedroom lamps. She just liked the quiet noise, and so far above
the streets she didn't have to smell the filth of the city. When
Regina sank back into the bed, Sinclair propped herself on
her elbow. "Doesn't this seem at all odd to you?" she asked.

"What? Sex with a near-stranger?"

"Yes, for one thing. I don't know anything about you. For
all I know you could be a mass murderer or something."

Regina showed off her gorgeous teeth. "What do you want
to know? I like dogs, I'm not into adventure sports or bingo.
I'm HIV-negative and otherwise disease-free, unless you
count manic depression as a disease."

"Interesting." And so very uninformative. Perhaps that was
the point. Could she be satisfied with this? After Yuen's compulsive soul baring, Regina's reticence was a kind of relief. It
made her more compelling and much, much sexier than the
boy Sinclair had left at home.

"Does that mean you're satisfied?"

Sinclair traced Regina's collarbone. Desire hummed through
her veins again, steady and loud. "I wouldn't say that."

Red-blushed nipples puckered and rose under Sinclair's
gaze. With a soft laugh, Regina slid her fingers around the back
of the other woman's neck and pulled her head down.

"Good."

At work the next day, Sinclair was useless. She pressed her
legs together and stared at the computer screen until all she
could see was Regina's face, wet with cum and sweat, her lip
tight between her teeth. Sinclair left as early as she could and
called Regina on her way to the train.

"Come to my house tonight. I want to show you something."

The writer's throaty chuckle stirred up the moisture already on Sinclair's panties. "I can't tonight. How about
Sunday?"

What else could she do but agree? Sinclair called Yuen
when she got home.

"I can't see you anymore," she said.

"What? Where did this come from?"

"Nowhere. I-"

"I'm coming over." He hung up the phone.

The doorbell rang twenty minutes later.

"Is it someone else?" he asked as soon as she opened the
door.

Lying wasn't Sinclair's forte. "Something like that."

"What does that mean? Is there or isn't there?"

"I-I met a woman."

Silence.

He walked farther into the apartment. "You did what?"

"Three days ago." Had it only been three days?

"This is crazy." He turned to her, his face softening from
its initial anger. "Is it that woman I met at Lin's party?"

Sinclair flushed hot and looked away. Had she been that
obvious?

"It is, isn't it? I knew that bitch wasn't joking around." He
looked at her across the pale expanse of the living room.
"Three days. You're throwing away two years because of
three days?"