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"Be honest, Irene, isn't that just a bit selfish?"
"Don't." Evelyn felt her lips shape the word, but did she really say it? And if she did, did she mean to disapprove of Olivia's words or of the hand caressing her breast? It had slid inside the top of her dress by now, but she didn't move to get it off her flesh. She just sat and stared, feeling tears leave the corners of her eyes. She noted Irene swallowing hard.
"Olivia," the pale woman finally said, her voice a distant groan. "You wouldn't know love if it bit you in your well-pampered ass. So, you want to buy this girl? Go ahead and buy her if she thinks she's for sale. But don't call it love." The voice was a mere shadow of the witty, amused one that had taken Evelyn in, months ago, opening this new, enchanting world. All it did now, was making her feel... ashamed? But there was nothing to feel ashamed of, was there? It wasn't her fault. It wasn't.
"You want to have her and maybe you'll get her," the gaunt woman went on. "I have nothing to offer like the things you mentioned. Yes, I guess I'm a beggar.
"I beg for her because I love her."
Evelyn saw Irene rise, shaking from weakness. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. Then she stepped forward and went down on her knee, right in front of Evelyn, causing another hot blush to spread. She showed her empty hands, palms upwards as if cupping emptiness.
"This is my love, darling," she whispered. "You can only see it if you love me back. If these are empty hands to you, please don't even look." Evelyn stared at the shaking hands, seeing the lined skin and the bony knuckles. Time stretched into awkward lengths, tightening the band around her skull. It wasn't fair. It wasn't her fault. The choice wasn't hers, it wasn't.
The woman rose again. Looking down on Evelyn and Olivia, she sighed.
"Make her happy, Olivia," she said. "If it is what she truly wants, make her happy with what you have to offer." She leaned over to Olivia and her voice rose. "But if I hear that you make her unhappy, I'll come for you, you pompous, spoilt, power-sick woman, and I'll make you wish you never tried." Irene turned away, her shoulders sagging, her feet unsure. When she almost reached the exit of the terrace, the voice of one of her one-time admirers cried out.
"Go! Go away, you, sick old witch! We don't need you here anymore!" It stopped Irene for a second. Then she walked on, disappearing into the shadowy darkness of the Société's inner sanctum.
Evelyn just stared until she was gone. Shapeless urges pulled her in every direction, resulting in perfect immobility. A sense of profound unfairness invaded her mind, but she struggled to keep it out. She never came to this place to choose, did she? Nobody should have a claim on her, not here. Things were complicated enough without having to bother about others. She was here to forget, wasn't she? Why else be here at all? Her ears heard the murmurings, the bitchy remarks and the uneasy bravado around her. Her eyes saw the painted mouths, the exposed skin, the shifting eyes. She rose; ah, well, her body rose, and her feet took her into the shadows, following the shuffling woman into the cool building, and to the restrooms. Her hand touched a shoulder.
"I'm sorry," she heard herself say. "Olivia was cruel to you, it made me feel ashamed." She swallowed and went on saying words that had hardly passed by her mind. "She should not have said it. You're the sweetest woman I ever met. She had no cause to humiliate you. I'm so sorry," she whispered. "Please forgive me for being weak. I am weak, you know. I'm confused. Ever since my first day here they all want things from me, and I can't say no. I just don't seem to be able. Please, don't condemn me for wanting it all."
Irene turned to her. She smiled. Her shaking hands reached out and cupped Evelyn's face, spreading comfort, her thumbs rubbing tears away.
"It's all right, darling," she said. "Olivia is right, you know? I'm ill and in no position to burden you with my love. Don't feel embarrassed, it wasn't you who said those ugly words. But please promise me that whatever decision you make, you'll do it for happiness. You deserve it, you know?" Evelyn wept, her shoulders shaking.
"It's all so... so unfair," she said. "Please, oh please Irene, I need to do this. Please let me." She slid down, out of the woman's grasp, and knelt before her. Her nervous fingers opened Irene's skirt and pulled it off her hips, taking the white panties with them. Then her face dove into the trimmed bush, her tongue searching for the hidden clit. Familiar warmth, familiar taste. She felt Irene's hands grab her head, trying to pull her away, but at the same time she spread her thighs.
"God," she heard her sigh. "Oh, dear God." For long minutes, there were only wet sounds -- and the moans of Irene. They rose in volume and increased in desperate frequency when Evelyn kept hitting her clit. Irene started humping into the face, her fingers clawing the rich curly hair. Words rolled out of her mouth, meaning nothing, meaning everything. Then she came hard, dizzy with exhaustion. Her juices gushed onto Evelyn's sucking lips, her tongue lapping them up.
The girl felt the woman sag into unconsciousness. Her arms kept her from hitting the tiles and a sudden fear struck her. Did she faint, or did she die? Where should she look for a pulse? A sigh left the woman's mouth. Evelyn rose to get a wet towel, spreading it over the bony brow. She knelt next to the body, cradling the head in her lap. The pale eyes opened at last, regaining focus.
"Thank you," the woman whispered. "That was -- incredible." She accepted the glass of water Evelyn offered, and drank. Then she rose on still uncertain legs, adjusting her skirt. "I have to go now," she said. Evelyn shook her head.
"You don't need to. Please stay!" Irene smiled, tiredly.
"I can't stay where she is, honey. Not after this I can't. You do understand, don't you?" Evelyn understood, but it didn't ease her mind.
"I don't want you to go!" she insisted. Irene seemed to consider what she would say next, then said it.
"Then why don't you leave with me? I know a great new place where you would enjoy all the adventure and excitement you need. It's a wonderful place. I would love having you there and you would never be without the attention of sweet, inventive women. Please do it! Leave with me!" She coughed and once again dizziness seemed to overtake her. But her eyes never left Evelyn's, she must ache to hear an answer -- The Answer. But all Evelyn felt was confusion. There was nothing she could say. Her lips moved soundlessly around vowels that meant to say she was sorry -- so sorry.
Then she turned and left.
***
Chapter Two -- Olivia.
Evelyn lay on her naked belly, her fingers lazily caressing the slick skin of the woman beside her. She was Olivia Perez, her body soaked with sweat after Evelyn had licked and fingered her through a string of orgasms. The woman returned the compliment, as always, but this time, Evelyn had merely lain there, feeling oddly removed, absent almost. Of course, she'd come; she always did. But she'd never felt connected to the wriggling she-volcano her body was.
Resting on the bed -- sweaty and out of breath -- Olivia murmured if something was wrong. Nothing was, Evelyn assured her and asked why she asked.
"You're so quiet today, darling," Olivia answered, removing strands of hair from the girl's damp face with a red-lacquered fingernail. Evelyn didn't answer. She looked away, mumbling something. Olivia asked her to speak up, regretting the sharpness of her voice.
"I'm here, aren't I?" Evelyn said, louder. Olivia's voice found a sweeter tone.
"Are you really, Evelyn?" she asked. "Here, I mean?" Evelyn raised her face and kissed the woman, feeling weary, her energy slipping away.
"Do we have to talk, Olivia? Let me suckle your sweet round tits; let me lick your pussy. I'm yours tonight. I'm here to please you, okay?"
Half an hour later they rested in almost the same position again, Olivia being just a little sweatier. Evelyn's hair lay spread between the woman's thighs, like before, just a little damper. The radio produced soft sounds of something classical. "Mahler," she whispered into a creamy thigh, still feeling the rippling echoes of the woman's climax. Ah, she was good, Evelyn, wasn't she; even if she hardly tried. She loved eating pussy -- taking it to the edge and back; then coaxing it up once again, and again, teasing and pushing until it tottered on the brink of ecstasy, pulsing, drooling, her victim crying for release, clawing her hair, begging but being denied until she ranted, rambled, uttering sheer nonsense... then dragging her up again and plunging her over the screaming edge, sending her flying.
It made her feel powerful; the Club had taught her a lot. But today everything was, well, good, but mechanical, wasn't it? When Olivia once again offered to eat her in return, Evelyn put her finger to her lips and hissed shhhh. It angered the woman. She rose on her elbows and cried out: "What the fuck is wrong with you, Evelyn!" It made the girl start.
"Nothing," she said. "I just love this music." Olivia shook her head, rolling her eyes.
"I didn't mean the fucking music!" she exclaimed. Evelyn just stared at her, face blank, eyes wide.
"Sorry," she mumbled, not feeling sorry, but suddenly scared by the woman's vehemence. She got up and crawled sideways to leave the bed, but Olivia grabbed her upper arm and pulled her back.
"Don't you run away from me, little traitor," she hissed. "It's that dying skeleton again, what's her name, Irene? Isn't it? Or Lucia, that ten-dollar whore? Ayla, with her cheap tits? I know you fuck around, exhausting yourself, but that stops now, you hear? From today on you are mine, Evelyn! Promise me. Promise me!" Olivia's hand rose with her voice. It hung like doom over Evelyn's head, ready to slice a cruel backhand across her face. Evelyn didn't move. She stared at the hand, eyes wide, lips trembling.
"Y-yes," she stuttered. "Yes, I promise..." Olivia's hand dropped to the satin bed cover, lying there like a broken branch.
"Sorry, oh God, I'm so sorry, my love," she whispered, pulling the girl against her moist body. She kissed her face. "Forgive me. I love you so. I'd never strike you. Never you hear, never, ever.
"I don't know what got into me. I love you. Forgive me." She hugged Evelyn, muttering excuses. Their faces were cheek to cheek, so she couldn't see the girl's darkening eyes, right before she closed them.
***
Evelyn admired Olivia Perez. She'd always been totally there with the woman, as with anyone at the club. When she kissed, she kissed passionately, her lips weak and open. When she hugged, she hugged intensely, her whole sweet body pressing into a person. She always gave herself totally, at the Club that is. She never held back, not when she laughed or danced, and not when she made love -- she was always completely there.
Olivia told her she fell in love with her because of that. Maybe it was this sudden talk of love, or maybe it was the woman's rude treatment of Irene, but Evelyn knew that something awkward had slipped into her carefree club's attitude. She felt a distance, even if it wasn't more than an occasional hesitation; and she knew it must strike a nerve with Olivia. It might be true that Evelyn felt sorry for fooling around and she might also feel upset with the way Olivia had bullied her, but those were just small fragments of the true doubts that landed like a flock of crows on the girl's mind.
Olivia didn't seem to understand what happened. She could hardly be blamed for that, as Evelyn barely knew herself -- being utterly lost in the entangled forest of sexual possibilities and female intrigue around her. Olivia's focus should have been on the girl, not so much on her competition. But, as so often while the poison of jealousy seeps in, pride builds a wall against its very cure. It would one day blind her.
On the other hand, Olivia never lost her sense of purpose and efficiency. She was no philosopher; she prided herself in being pragmatic -- a levelheaded businesswoman. Straying girls must be robbed of their straying fields. Evelyn should be taken away from the lesbian club and put in Olivia's gilded cage in her far away home country -- her copper wings clipped. So, Olivia started to paint wonderful pictures of sandy beaches and lukewarm oceans. She talked of traveling to exotic places and staying in luxurious resorts; of parties with the rich and famous, shopping in Milan's fashion stores, a family yacht in the port of Saint Tropez, nights at the Monaco casino. She proposed skiing in the Alps and scuba diving in the Caribbean. She suggested thousand-dollar dresses and sparkling jewelry -- breathtaking sessions at famous beauty salons.
Evelyn let the magnificent visions dazzle her like so many mirages. During long, wine-drenched evenings she allowed Olivia's dreams to soak in and she admitted to their attraction. But wasn't that all they should be? Dreams? Even the mere idea of one of them coming true, scared her. She feared the gold cage, the wealthy, snobby circles she'd have to perform in like some trophy wife. Then again, why shouldn't she go? What was so special about her life now? But no...
Evelyn admired Olivia. The woman was everything she was not: strong, rich, self-assured. But maybe those characteristics were exactly the treats that made Olivia oblivious of the shaky, emotional uncertainties of the girl she wanted. Evelyn had simply too many doubts, most of them not even related to Olivia or their relationship. They were doubts the Columbian woman didn't begin to understand -- and didn't even try to find out. She just pushed and pushed, only to have Evelyn put her heels deeper into the sands of silent resistance.
Olivia loved Evelyn, but maybe she loved the idea of having her more. Whatever her feelings might be, she didn't see that the girl balked, much less why.
Evelyn didn't understand it either. She became restless and doubted if Olivia had the slightest idea why all these plans and propositions just shied her away.
***
One night, the woman took her out to have dinner. They ate at a pretty little restaurant and had some drinks and a dance later. Olivia for once didn't say a word about her grandiose plans, and the wine had nicely dulled the girl's overwrought senses, as had the expensive dress of silvery satin that caused her to blush all evening. Afterwards, the lovemaking in Olivia's hotel bed had been sweet.
"You know I love you very much, don't you?" Olivia's voice penetrated Evelyn's half-sleep. She just murmured an answer, thinking: 'Love?' What's with this damn love? Everybody seemed to love her nowadays and all it did was depress her more. She felt the bed's mattress move; Olivia had raised herself on her elbow.
"Look at me, darling, please?" she asked. The girl groaned another wordless response, but she did open her eyes. A big and very round breast was right in front of her. Its nipple quivered with the words spoken. "Evelyn," Olivia said "We can't go on like this. You must allow me to protect you. Please say yes." The girl rose on one elbow too, raising her eyes from the perfectly designed breast to Olivia's stare.
"Protect?" she asked. She shook her head to chase away her sleepiness.
"Yes, darling, protect. You are so... naïve. The world is a dangerous place, filled with freaks and perverts. Let me protect you against the weirdoes, the crazy women who want to use and destroy you. Be my woman, darling; let me buy you a ring, a beautiful ring that makes you mine. Allow me, please, Evelyn, and I shall give you everything you want -- anything, just ask." Evelyn moaned and let her face fall forward into her pillow, smelling lavender.
"A ring?" she mumbled. "Why? Why would I want that? I have a girlfriend at home, for God's sake." A cloud passed over Olivia's face, but she controlled her voice.
"It is just for when you visit La So'. Just to warn them to back off. To announce that you and I belong together. We do, don't we? Do you love me, Evelyn?
"Please tell me you do, and I'll protect you."
Love. Olivia grabbed her hands and Evelyn felt herself being pulled against the warm body: pale cream on golden tan. The woman feverishly kissed her throat and chest. Then she forced Evelyn to hold her eyes, their faces close together.
"I know how torn up you are, darling," she said. "I see pain and confusion in your beautiful eyes. Trust me and let me take care of you. Let go of your fears, I'm here to make life save for you; to protect you against all these perverts.
"Be mine, Evelyn, and I'll be yours forever." Evelyn winced as the strong hands strangled her wrists. Her eyes shifted desperately -- two birds in a cage.
"I..." she tried. "I don't know, Olivia. This is so..." She swallowed hard, never able to escape the woman's iron gaze. How to resist? How to say no?
"I know you love me, Olivia," Evelyn went on, "and yes, I guess I might love you too. You have been good to me. You're a sweet woman and I know you wish me the best. Your fear for my wellbeing is honest, I know that." Did she know? Did she even want to know? "Maybe you're right," she went on with a sigh. "Maybe I should be protected... But... my God, why do we need this? Can't we just have fun?" Olivia rubbed her wrists, kissing her fingers.
"Oh, we'll have lots of fun," she said. "Let it all go, darling. No need to make things difficult. Just trust me. Be mine and be generous.
"Let me show the world you're mine!"
***
Evelyn never answered, but she also didn't refuse to come when Olivia took her over to La So' -- dressing her in an expensively rich, embarrassingly bare dress. Olivia had rented the club's salon to throw a party. It was an all-female thing of course, with lots of wine and music. The entire clan was present, bringing friends who brought friends and lovers. From the start, they seemed to know what was going on, for they hugged and congratulated Evelyn, admiring her dress. They exclaimed they were glad for her and assured her that everything would turn out fabulously now.
The evening was a daze. Evelyn was kissed and hugged. She was asked to dance and only realized later that this night no one felt her up in the sneaky ways that were so common with parties there.
Just before the whole function drowned in the usual orgy of lewdness and alcohol, Olivia grabbed Evelyn and a microphone, asking everyone to listen for a minute. Evelyn had been drinking quite her share of the ever-present champagne, so she leaned into Olivia, suppressing a giggle.
"Girls," Olivia said, her voice bouncing off the walls. "Tonight is a special night." The giggle got stuck in Evelyn's throat and she coughed, swaying on the flimsy patent leather heels that Olivia also bought her that afternoon. The woman patted her on the back. Then she wrapped her arm tightly around her reeling body and went on with her speech.
"Many of you have known me and my sweetheart Evelyn for a while." A hiccup shook Evelyn's midriff, but it was mercifully drowned by Olivia's next words. "Tonight, my girl and I invited you all to witness us tying the knot around our deep and eternal love. I announce my engagement to Evelyn Connors and I'm sure you will all wish us the best in our new life together."
A huge cheer went up when Olivia pulled Evelyn close, pushed a fat gold-and-diamond ring on her finger, and pressed her lips on her slack mouth. All the women hurried forward, hugging and cheering and congratulating the couple. Evelyn felt herself being tossed and pushed and kissed. Soft bodies smothered her; fragrant hair and painted lips were omnipresent.
