By the Bay Ch. 06

He rolled them over so that they could get under the sheets, and she let him because she was wont to move. As he pulled the covers around them, something glittered on the table, and he remembered the gift he'd bought her. Climbing out of bed gloriously naked, he blew out all the candles except the ones by the bed, palmed the bangles and slipped back under the covers. She was waiting for him, her eyes a bright, cloudy blue and sated.

He took her hands in his. "I bought you something," he murmured, and slipped some of the bangles onto one hand, and the rest on the other. The sapphire bangles glimmered in the candlelight as she raised them to look at.

He watched the joy on her face as she surveyed her present. But he was unprepared for the tears that rose to her eyes.

"What's the matter?" he asked, pulling her close.

"Nothing. I just... no one's ever bought me anything so pretty before."

He wrapped his arms around her so that she was tucked against him. "I'll buy you something pretty everyday if you want."

She chuckled lightly and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for this. It's lovely."

"It reminded me of you."

"It's too grand to be anything like me," she said around a yawn, admitting to herself that she was deliciously comfortable with his warmth around her.

He tilted her cheek so that she would look into his eyes for what he had to say. "Don't belittle yourself that way, Anita. You're in no way lesser than any woman I've known. In fact, I think you're better than most. No other woman would sacrifice her life to make her younger sister happy. You're a gem, lady. You've yet to realize it is all."

He was being so sweet to her that Anita couldn't think of anything to say. She stared at him for a long time, tears shimmering in her eyes.

"Thank you," she said finally, snuggling deeper into his arms. His skin heated hers and she wished they never had to leave their little warm cocoon and that he would keep saying sweet things in her ear all night.

His pressed a kiss to her neck, inhaling the sweet essence of her hair. "Goodnight," he said, and she was asleep seconds later.

*

Rae placed the cigar on the ashtray and dipped the brush in paint again. She raised it to the canvas, correcting the imperfections in the portrait. Meera knelt on the floor a few feet away, still in the position Rae had captured on canvas. She'd been painting for hours now, having started just after Meera had stepped into the hotel room.

It was a beautiful piece, even Rae had to admit that. Meera knelt by the bed, facing Rae, wearing nothing but her see-through red cotton sari. The material covered only her femininity and midriff and her hands, criss-crossing over her chest, covered her breasts. Her eyes were averted, as though in shame, and the bed lay rumpled nearby. Rae had thought it a good position to paint Meera in, and she'd been right.

Rae had painted numerous people before but she knew as she put the finishing touches on Meera's painting, that this was one of her best work. The painting seemed so alive to her, so filled with emotion, passion, shame, guilt. She hoped Meera would be able to see it too.

"Done," Rae murmured, and Meera gratefully shifted from her position to stretch her limbs. Eager as a kitten, she rose from the floor to see her painting.

"My goodness, Rae. This is beautiful!" she exclaimed, studying the painting intently. "It's so alive."

Rae's style was amazing. The brush strokes were clean, and the colors were pleasantly jarring. "You're so talented."

Rae watched Meera as she marveled at the painting. The younger woman's hair was unbound and she wasn't wearing a stitch under the sari she'd used like a towel to cover herself. Rae ran a finger over the exposed flesh at Meera's shoulder, unable to keep away from the creamy skin.

"It's like you can see me in the vanity mirror," Meera murmured, pointing at the spot in the painting. There was a blur of a reflection there, as Rae had wanted it.

When Meera had looked her fill, Rae turned her around. "I want you to have it."

Meera looked startled. "What? But I thought you wanted it to remember me by."

Rae smiled, but it was a sad smile. "I don't need that when any little thing reminds me of you."

Meera perched herself on Rae's thigh. "Sweet-talker," she said softly.

"More like a confession."

Meera pulled the tie that held Rae's hair in place. The long auburn locks fell around her shoulders. "What am I going to do without you?"

Rae didn't answer. She couldn't. They were both living for the now, the present. They had no future and they both knew it. She kissed Meera, shocking the younger girl with the ferocity on her lips.

She didn't know how she was going to live without this girl. Her taste was like home to Rae, the feel of her arms too familiar not to miss. She'd had many girls before, but they'd all never had her attention for more than a few days, sometimes even a few hours. But she'd been with Meera for well over two months and yet she couldn't seem to tire of her.

Rae didn't want to let her go. She wanted to whisk Meera off to the Dutch and French colonies and have her see the world. Rae wanted to see the world, but now, the dream seemed incomplete without Meera by her side. God, she would do anything to keep this woman.

She didn't know if it was the direction of her thoughts or the passion that always flared when they came together, but their embrace became suddenly desperate. Rae ripped the sari off Meera's body and both of them struggled with the buttons on Rae's shirt. Impatient and half-naked, Rae lifted Meera into her arms, walked the few steps to the bed, deposited Meera on it and covered the young girl's body with her leaner one.

Without preamble, she kissed Meera deeply and plunged two fingers into the girl's femininity. Meera cried out and arched into her hand.

It was desperate, quick, loud. Rae's teeth sank into Meera's neck, biting down as she stroked the fire in the girl. Meera's cries echoed throughout the hotel room, spurring Rae on. She slipped another finger into Meera and curled it upward. The young girl gasped and tensed, and Rae watched as Meera came silently, her throat working as her body struggled to keep up with the pleasure.

When Rae withdrew from her, Meera made a slight sound of protest and opened her eyes.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her dark brown eyes still warm and sated.

Rae wiped her fingers on the towel at the edge of the bed.

"Nothing."

Meera sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees.

"I'm not stupid, Rae. I know something's wrong."

Rae walked over to her chair and picked up the discarded shirt. She slipped it over her head and buttoned it up.

"Rae, talk to me."

Rae slid her a glance. God, she was so beautiful. Perfect. A goddess. Unattainable. She looked away.

"I'm going to go out for a bit." She tucked her hair under a cap. "I'll be back soon."

Meera slid out of the bed and pulled a sheet with her to cover herself. "Don't go. Tell me what you're thinking about. If it's a problem, I can help you solve it."

Large, innocent eyes. They were her undoing. Rae pressed a kiss to Meera's forehead.

"You can't." Not when you're the problem. "I'll be back soon."

She didn't know where she was going, but she knew she had to be away from Meera to think and clear her head. The beach called to her and she walked up and down the stretch for about an hour, thinking. She couldn't come up with a solution to her problems, but she felt calmer.

When she returned to the room, however, Meera had left. The painting stood on the easel, mocking her.

*

It would be dawn soon, Jay knew, and he should let Anita sleep. She'd had an exhausting day – and night – and would be sore from her escapades. It wouldn't be right to touch her again, at least not 'til tonight. The good man in him wanted to scramble out of the bed and douse the heat in him with a cold shower. But the wicked man in him wanted to slide his hand between their bodies, find her core and make her come even before she could wake up. He could almost imagine the honest pleasure on her face, the surprise, the need, the ache...

He must've stirred in his erotic musings because she made a muffled sound and moved closer to him. The cold had seeped into the room through the night, and he deduced that she was only seeking him for warmth. She tucked her head below his chin and curled up against him as though she knew the thoughts rioting in his mind and wanted to torture him for them. Her hair was spread out on the white sheets behind her, leaving her back and bottom bare, and he marveled at the smooth, dark curves that greeted him.

It wasn't his fault. He was only a man. And she was such a beautiful woman. Before he could even process what he was doing, his fingers had slid between her legs, over the thatch of dark curls and traced the lips that had welcomed him the night before. He knew, from prior experience, that women tended to take a longer while to get warmed up, so he massaged the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs for a few minutes until she gasped softly in his ears.

Her voice in pleasure was really such a beautiful thing. Her features as well. Her lips would part in gasps and her forehead would crinkle. It was as though she was battling with the effects of his fingers on her body. He loved that he could do that to her so easily.

Moisture gathered in her core soon after that, and it coated his fingers like clear honey. He plunged one finger into her softness and she arched against him, wanting to get closer for more of his caresses.

He loved her slowly with his fingers, teasing, drawing out her pleasure whenever he could. She made small, kittenish noises in her throat as he circled the nub that he was so fond of. The combination of her wetness and his touch made her tremble and moan.

Very soon, he had her hips moving with his fingers, sometimes in circles, sometimes in a smooth vertical motion. He realized that she was more receptive to the circular motion and went with it, moving his fingers faster over the small, sensitive bud.

She wasn't the only one trembling, he soon realized. He felt like he was in a trance, watching her take her pleasure. His body hummed with need, fueled only by her little moans and movements, but he wanted her to come first.

He knew the exact moment at which she was close to release. Her breath caught at the back of her throat and she waited for the plunge. But he wanted to make his loving memorable for her, so he increased the pace of his fingers until when she fell, she kept falling for a long, long time.

Anita was dying a pleasurable death. She could taste her climax on the tip of her tongue, yet Jay was wont to give it to her. A half-sob of protest escaped her lips and she felt her leg being lifted. One moment she was protesting his withdrawal, and the next she was filled completely by him. His fingers returned to play with her bud, and the pleasure was too much, too heady to be contained within her body.

She came with a cry as he began to move within her, his thrusts precise and even. She could hear his uneven breath by her ear as she lingered in the space between consciousness and hazy pleasure. His movements within her were drawing out her pleasure, making her gasp and arch even before she could recover from the first plunge.

Moments later, he ground out a curse and she felt him spurt between her thighs. He was trembling, and she put her arms around him for comfort. Her body still quivered with aftershocks, but he seemed to have died from his climax. His eyelids remained closed for a long while.

She'd begun to think he was asleep when he opened his eyes – sated emerald eyes that made her feel whole. She gave him an indulgent smile and rose to kiss him tentatively on the lips.

He caught her by the waist and roller her under him.

"Good morning," he said, watching the rays of the rising sun highlight the smoothness of her skin. Her eyes glowed like jewels, and yet again, he wished to god that he could be a poet.

"Good morning," she replied, stretching a little. When she moved her legs, a tiny spasm of pain rippled through her. He didn't miss a thing.

"Sore?"

"A little."

"Me too."

"Really?" she asked in surprise. She'd assumed that men weren't affected as women were after lovemaking.

"Yes. It's because of the friction. Skin to skin contact. Fast, hard movements..."

She turned her head to the side, embarrassed. He laughed and buried his nose in the crook of her neck.

"I love making you squirm. You're adorable."

She raised shy eyes to him. His hair fell forward as he looked down at her, and she reached up to caress the dark locks. In that moment, she knew he was wrong. He'd called her beautiful but she wasn't beautiful. He was.

She shook her head, remembering her vow to herself. She would not romanticize their relationship. Jay was just a companion; a very temporary one in fact. He could depart the island anytime and leave her with a broken heart if she wasn't careful. She would have a good time with him, but that would be it. If she'd learnt anything from her mother, it was not to fall in love with an Englishman.

She tucked a lock of hair behind his ears and wriggled out from under him. He fell onto the bed with a muffledoomph. Spying her clothes on the floor, she began to dress. She knew he watched her, knew she should be uncomfortable, but she wasn't. A warm glow nestled within her as she tucked the end of her sari into her petticoat and turned around. His head was cradled on a palm as he watched her.

"Will you be coming down for breakfast soon?" she asked, grabbing the pillows strewn on the floor and placing them on the bed. Dear gods, they had definitely made full use of the bed last night.

"I think I'll take a nap for a bit."

"I'll keep the food warm for you then."

He watched her leave, fighting the urge to call her back to his bed. She would be sore, he knew that, but there were ways to get past that. Pleasure was always enhanced with a tiny bit of pain. But he knew why he shouldn't. If she stayed with him any longer, Meera might find her sister missing and come looking for her upstairs. God knew what that could bring.

He drew the covers over himself and pulled a pillow against his middle. It felt hollow and meaningless after he'd held Anita all night. He sighed and took a deep breath. The air still smelled like jasmine. It was all of her he was going to get for the rest of the morning. Turning over, he shut his eyes and gave in to sleep.

*

"Anita! Anita, over here!"

Anita tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and turned to look into the dense crowd of the market. She could've almost sworn she'd heard someone call her name.

"Anita!"

She saw more than heard the person who was calling for her. Pleasantly surprised, she waited until Sami weaved through the crowd to get to her. By the gods, had he matured over the years she hadn't seen him. He now sported a thick mustache and had the sculpted arms of a laborer. She vaguely recalled the times she'd looked at him and thought she would marry him someday. Now the notion seemed to be built on childish fantasies.

"Mama, how have you been?" she asked as soon as he got to her side. She had to crane her neck to get a good look at him, which meant that he'd probably grown a handful of inches over the past ten years.

"Good. Very good. And you?"

"The same. It's been so long since I've seen you. Oh, I heard you got married, though. How is your wife?" She breezed over the fact that she hadn't received an invitation to their wedding. She knew that it was his mother, her grandmother, who had barred him from having any contact with Anita. It wasn't Sami's fault.

"She is doing very well. She's somewhere around here as well, with my daughters."

"Daughters?" she asked, pleased for him.

"Yes. I have five of them."

"Five? Goodness. They must be a handful."

"They are. But their mother knows how to handle them. I sure don't."

They shared a laugh, after which Sami suggested that they take a walk. She agreed because she was genuinely pleased to see him again. Times she'd spent with him had been the most fun when she'd been a child. He'd been her closest friend until he was barred from seeing her.

"Where are you working now? Last I heard, you were working for that building company."

Anita made a face. "I hated working there. It was such pointless labor, and the pay was barely enough to put Meera through school. Anyway, I stopped working there about two months ago. Now I'm working at the Duke's house by the bay."

"The big white one?"

"Yes. It's proving to be the best a girl can ask for."

Sami gave her a sad smile. "The best a girl should ask for is a roof over her head and a husband by her side."

For the first time in minutes, Anita began to feel uncomfortable with Sami. She knew he felt guilty about marrying another woman, though she'd assured him that it was all right with her if he married someone else. She supposed he thought it was his fault that she never married, and he felt terrible about it.

"You know I never blamed you for marrying someone else, Mama. You didn't have a choice."

"Well, perhaps I did. I should've been a man and crossed my mother's words, but I didn't. I broke my vow to you."

"You couldn't break it because I'd already released you from it. It wasn't fair that I expected you to marry me. My blood is tainted," she stated simply.

"I didn't care about your heritage, Anita, neither do I care about it now."

They'd reached the edge of the market, near the sea. A group of children were playing with marbles and making a ruckus out of it. Anita watched them, Sami's words whizzing past her ears. A smile lighted her face.

"Do you remember playing that when we were younger?" she asked, pointing to the kids.

"Of course! I always enjoyed beating you." Anita rolled her eyes, but it was certain that hewasbetter than her at the game.

They sat on the sand and watched the children play for a while. Sami regaled her with stories of his children, his work, his wife. It amazed her that he was only five years older than her, yet it felt like he'd lived so much more than she had. He was assistant manager at a British company in town, and his income had increased much over the years. It was only last month he'd set down payment for a plot of land somewhere near her old home. In his voice, she heard his excitement over the successes he'd achieved, and she felt genuinely happy for him.

It felt familiar, almost painfully nostalgic to sit on the beach and talk to him about life. If she hadn't noticed his mustache every time she looked up, she could've sworn no time had passed since she'd last seen him.

When the sun was high in the sky, she realized that she'd spent too much time with him. Jay might've come down for breakfast already, and would be worried if she wasn't home on time. She asked Sami for the time. When he pulled out his pocketwatch and told her it was nearly ten, she gasped and rose to her feet.

"I should have been back thirty minutes ago," she fussed as she walked in the general direction of the house.

"I'm sorry I kept you," Sami said, following her steps.

"No, that's all right. I enjoyed speaking with you," she said without halting.

"Anita, wait." Before she could turn toward him, he reached out to grasp her wrist. Though uncomfortable, she didn't pull away immediately for fear of offending him. They'd never touched before, never held hands, never done anything intimate in the time they'd been together as children. It was forbidden, and they both knew it. Were the rules any different because they were adults now? She didn't think so.