Classy, a Sapphic Siren Interlude

"Still, you must have broken a heart or two in your time."

"Regrettably, yes, but I never mask my intentions nor promise more than I am prepared to commit to."

"No need to explain yourself to me, my dear. Commitment is not all it's cracked up to be."

"So I gather."

Beatrix took another sip of her Champagne as she studied Melina. "And do you seduce them, or do they seduce you?"

"Seduction is seldom required. More typically, the interest is mutual. But occasionally, I have to do extra work to spark an initial interest. A few lunch or dinner dates, good conversation, slinky outfits, some slow dancing. Those usually do the trick."

"And have you ever been turned down?"

Melina cocked her head and considered. Had she? She honestly couldn't remember a time when a woman said no to her. But that seemed unrealistic, so instead she said, "Oh, yes. I remember one or two utter failures."

"What about the other way around?" Beatrix asked curiously. "What if a woman you weren't interested in fancied you? Could she seduce you, or would it be pointless?"

Melina was stumped again. She couldn't remember a time when she wasn't interested in a woman who wanted to sleep with her. There were, however, a few girls that she deemed too young. She usually found more suitable diversions for them—like girls their own age.

"When I say no, I have very good reasons for it. But if I seem uninterested, more often it's that I haven't taken notice. Sometimes, it's just a matter of getting my attention. And treating me to a good meal is enough to do that."

"Ah, so the way to your heart is through your stomach?"

"So it's my heart we're talking about?" Melina asked coyly. "I rather thought we were discussing the way to another part of my anatomy."

"It wouldn't matter if it were a lock of your hair. I can't cook worth a damn," Beatrix said sounding regretful.

Melina smiled at the comment. Was Beatrix aware that she was making an advance, or was it the Veuve Clicquot talking? Melina never slept with inebriated women. But there were other ways to satisfy Lady B's curiosity.

"Cooking isn't a requirement. I'm quite fond of take-out, too," she said flirtatiously.

She watched as Beatrix's eyes glanced over to the empty bread plate. "It would seem our driver has the current advantage over me."

Melina didn't deny the point.

"You don't have to say anything," Beatrix went on. "It's the story of my life."

She took her shoes off, turned to her right, and stretched out across the back seat, careful not to spill her drink. The position pulled at her blazer, so she unbuttoned it. She also removed the polka dotted scarf from her neck, tucking the hideous thing in her purse. Melina was delighted to see Beatrix had much better taste in undergarments. She wore a lacy black camisole under the blazer.

Beatrix noticed her evident appreciation. "Ah, so food isn't the only way to your, shall we say, lady parts?"

"I never said it was," Melina replied with a smile. "Lacy undergarments have their own unique appeal."

"Score one for the woman with the expensive underwear," Beatrix said cheering herself. "Would you like to see more?"

"I can think of worse ways to spend the next hour."

Beatrix pouted. "That's hardly a resounding endorsement."

"Well, you've created a moral dilemma for me."

"Ew! Must we bring morals into the conversation?"

"It pains me to do so," Melina said, "but I have to wonder. Should I be giving you any encouragement given that you are very likely drunk at this point?"

"I assure you I am not. But I'll let you off the hook, so to speak. If I decide to strip naked in front of you, I hereby absolve you of any responsibility for my naughty actions."

Melina laughed. "Then by all means, strip away."

"I said if, Melina. I haven't decided yet if I want to show you my lady parts," Beatrix said peevishly. "You haven't exactly said you'd show me yours. And I'm a big fan of quid pro quo."

"I'd happily strip naked, too, if we weren't stopping in an hour. I don't like interruptions."

Beatrix held up a finger. "Hold that thought." She returned to a sitting position to reach the controls and then hit the intercom. "Driver?" she called.

No answer.

"Don't tell me this intercom isn't working now. Quinn, are you there?" she called out louder.

"Uh, oh, yes, Lady Beatrix, I'm here," Quinn replied over the intercom.

"Ah, good, you can hear me. Do we have to stop at the 90-minute mark?"

"No, ma'am. We schedule stops at those intervals to give passengers the chance for a bit of air and to use the facilities."

Beatrix released the button. "Damn! Now that she said it, I have to go," she said to Melina, who chuckled.

She pressed the button again. "I need to stop now. And then we can continue on to Cork without further stops."

"Very well, ma'am. I see a service station just ahead."

Beatrix smiled, evidently pleased with herself. She placed her glass in its receptacle on the little round table. Then she rebuttoned her blazer, stepped back into her shoes, and grabbed her purse.

Moments later, the vehicle stopped. Melina heard the driver side door open. And then Quinn was there, opening the curbside door for them.

"I'll be back shortly," Beatrix said before disappearing inside the station.

*****

Melina joined Quinn outside the limo, taking the opportunity to stretch her long legs. She noticed the young woman seemed nervous.

"Is something wrong?"

She watched as Quinn pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Then she took a breath and responded.

"The matter is a wee bit delicate, Miss Wilder. You see, when Lady Beatrix tested her intercom button earlier, she may have pushed too hard. The intercom didn't disengage after she removed her finger."

Melina smiled broadly. "You mean it's been on all this time?"

"Yes."

"And you overheard our entire conversation?"

"That I have, ma'am, but through no intention of my own. The eavesdropping is of a purely accidental nature."

"It's quite all right, Quinn. But if you could hear us, why didn't you answer when Lady Beatrix first called out to you?"

"I didn't realize at first that she was calling me over the darn thing. Not until she said my name."

"Do you want to see if you can fix it now?"

"Aye." Quinn hurried into the back of the vehicle and fiddled with the controls while Melina poked her head in to observe.

"It's well and truly stuck, Miss Wilder. Should I tell Lady Beatrix?"

"Absolutely not," Melina said. "She's liable to have you fired for what you heard, and none of this is your fault." She moved aside to let Quinn step out. "It might be best to keep quiet up front so she doesn't hear you over the open channel. Can you do that?"

"I have already. I had to sneeze fiercely ten minutes into the ride and thought my brain would burst from the effort of keeping it in."

Melina chuckled. "Good job."

"And I promise, Miss Wilder, I'm the soul of discretion. I'll never repeat anything of what I'm hearing."

"I know that already," Melina said. "Just remember, mums the word around Lady B."

Quinn nodded.

Moments later, Melina saw Beatrix returning to the limousine.

After they settled back in and resumed their journey, Beatrix tossed her a small bag.

"For you," she said.

"What's this? A chocolate bar?"

"That was the deal, wasn't it? The way to your heart—or at least, to your lady parts—is through your stomach?"

"You expect me to trade my virtue for a chocolate bar?"

"I would have bought you a proper meal, but they only had snacks. And it most certainly is not your virtue I'm interested in," she added distractedly. She was fiddling with the controls again. Suddenly, the privacy blinds on the side and back windows lowered into place. "There now, isn't that nice? Just you and me and two and half hours to fill."

"And how do you propose we fill the time?" Melina asked.

"Well, let's start by picking up where we left off," Beatrix replied. She unbuttoned her blazer again, and this time, she pulled it off completely. "Now you," she said eagerly.

Melina reached for her blouse buttons and then paused teasingly. "Are you sure you're interested in lady parts?"

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"Well, you have a husband. Have you ever been interested in women before?"

Beatrix poured herself the rest of the Champagne. "We should have gotten more," she said. She sat back and took a sip. "I don't wish to discuss my husband," she finally replied.

"Neither do I. It's your history with other women I'm asking about."

"I've never slept with one if that's what you want to know."

"Have you ever fancied another woman?" Melina asked.

Lady Beatrix took another sip of her drink. "Well, if you must know, I am rather fond of an au pair currently staying with me."

"Now we're getting somewhere," Melina said with a smile. "Tell me about her."

"There's not much to tell. She's a fine au pair, from the Netherlands. She's clean, organized, smart. A little older than other au pairs because she worked before going back to school. But that makes her tolerable to be around. Not immature or untrained like some of the others I've met."

"Fascinating," Melina said sarcastically. "But as I am not interested in hiring her myself, could you try describing the person behind the position?"

Beatrix sighed. "Fine," she said. "She's extremely attractive, with long blond hair and big blue eyes. She's funny, too. A little direct for my taste, but as most of her cutting remarks are about men, I find her amusing. You'd like her. She's a feminist, too."

"What's her name?" Melina asked.

"Brinka."

"That's a pretty girl's name."

"No, Brinka is her family name. Janna is her given name."

Like so many of her countrymen, Beatrix anglicized the name and threw in an r sound between the vowels, pronouncing it JAN-ner. Melina suspected, however, that the correct pronunciation was YAHN-nah.

"You refer to her by her last name?" she asked.

"Of course. That's the custom with hired help. It's always Stevens, Benson, Danvers, Brinka. Quinn," she added, motioning toward the front of the limousine.

"You mean our Quinn? Our driver?"

"Yes. Did you think that was her first name?"

"I did, actually."

Beatrix teased her. "Are you worried she won't like you now?"

"Of course not, but I must remember to ask about her first name."

"Why is that so important?"

"Because it's a gesture of friendship."

"That's your Canadian upbringing talking. On this side of the pond, some of us prefer maintaining a professional distance between the classes."

"Well distance isn't going to get you close to your Dutch au pair."

"I wouldn't even know where to begin," Beatrix said impatiently. She drained the rest of her Champagne and set her glass down.

"I just told you where to begin. Start by calling her Janna."

Beatrix batted the idea away with a negligent wave of her hand as she turned and stretched her legs out on the seat again.

Melina shook her head and tried a different approach. "Would she be interested?"

"In what?"

Melina rolled her eyes. "In lady parts, of course."

"Oh, that. Yes, certainly. She declared her allegiance to lesbianism on her application form."

"She did?" Melina asked amused.

"Yes, I told you. She's Dutch. They're very direct. She wanted to make certain it wasn't going to be an issue. And of course, it wasn't."

"Good for you both!"

Lady Beatrix smirked, and Melina really had to wonder what the problem was. "Why don't you just get on with it, then?" she asked.

"What do you mean? I can't just simply proposition her."

"Let's summarize, shall we?" Melina suggested.

"By all means, press on."

"You said commitment is overrated, and you refuse to discuss He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Clearly, your marriage is holding about as much charm for you as Ireland."

Beatrix made a sound somewhere between a snort and a chuckle. Melina took it to mean she agreed, so she continued.

"Suddenly, you have daily access to an attractive and funny Dutch lesbian who may be keen to rub her lady parts against your ladyship. And you're unwilling to indulge because of your fine British reserve?" she asked.

Lady Beatrix looked confused. "Is that what you do? You rub up against each other?"

Finally, Melina caught a clue. "Ah, so that's what this is. You want me to coach you in lesbian sexuality."

"Don't look at me that way, all amused and superior. After all, you made the first move back at the rental office."

Melina frowned trying to remember. Beatrix explained.

"That little maneuver where you arched your back to show your cleavage at the same time that you were endorsing the idea that we ride together? That had wanton interest written all over it."

"Hardly wanton. I was just trying to distract you before you bit poor Quinn's head off for making the suggestion."

"So you were never interested in me? Is that why you still have your top on? And after I got you a chocolate bar, too," Lady Beatrix added shaking her head in mock lament.

Melina chuckled. "Fine," she said relenting. She unbuttoned her blouse and removed it, revealing a pair of ample round breasts held together by a slightly transparent burgundy bra with a leafy pattern in the weave.

Beatrix licked her suddenly dry lips. "You were right. Lacy undergarments are appealing." She glanced up at Melina. "Show me more," she said.

Melina smirked. "Surely you have Internet?"

"It's a household computer. I can hardly do this kind of research on there."

"Well, the first thing you want to do when you get home is buy yourself a personal tablet and password protect it. Then search how do lesbians do it. Trust me, you'll find out everything you ever wanted to know. With pictures."

She heard a little sound over the speaker and realized Quinn had snorted. She had quite forgotten about the intercom. She quickly coughed to mimic the sound hoping Beatrix would think she had somehow made the earlier noise, too. She needn't have worried. Beatrix was too focused on their conversation to notice.

"I'll certainly do that, but we still have about two hours left on this trip, and I don't want to waste them. Surely, you can give me some pointers."

Melina preferred indulging herself with their charming driver. If she could just find out her first name, she thought. She was fairly certain Quinn was interested in her. Neither one of them moved away earlier when her breast and Melina's knee made accidental contact. And the young woman had stared openly at Melina's bosom when she arched her back at Beatrix in the rental office. So, how to close the gap between Ms. Quinn and herself—using only an audio connection—and, at the same time, satisfy the inquisitive Lady B?

Hearing women moan and groan and cry out in the throes of sexual climax had always inflamed Melina's desires. Orpheus himself couldn't compete with that music. Perhaps Quinn, too, would be aroused by the sounds of women achieving orgasm. If so, she would be so ready by the time they dropped Beatrix off at Cork that the merest invitation from Melina would make her swoon. And as a bonus, Beatrix would be less skittish about consummating her evident infatuation with her Dutch lesbian au pair. As skittish women were Melina's specialty, she didn't see a downside. She admired the efficiency of her plan.

"All right," she said at last. "What do you want to know first?"

"How can I tell if she's interested? Specifically, in me? I mean, she doesn't have a girlfriend. And that little arching of the back that you did? She's done that with me. So I believe she might be interested."

Melina nodded. "Those are all good signs. Have you done the same with her? Given her any signs of interest? Like smiling at her, showing her a little cleavage, brushing your hand against her shoulder and letting it linger there a moment?"

"No, I don't think so," Beatrix said frowning. "I may have smiled at her once. But no cleavage or touching. Should I try that?"

"Well, my advice would be to ask her directly if she's interested. But as you are somewhat of a fuddy-duddy, I won't suggest that. So yes, send her signals. Send her flowers. Send her something!"

"What if I'm too subtle, and she doesn't pick up on my interest? What then?"

Melina resisted the urge to poke fun at her. Beatrix seemed truly lost. She considered the woman's options. "I have an idea," she said at last. "Why don't you tell her about me?"

"What about you? We aren't involved or anything?"

"No, no, I mean tell her that you shared a ride with a gorgeous lesbian who spent most of the trip talking about sex. Tell her I propositioned you and even disrobed in front of you as an enticement, but you declined."

"How will that help?" Beatrix asked dubiously.

"Hint to her that you could be interested in a lesbian encounter. That you didn't get your knickers in a twist over the idea of having sex with a woman."

"I still don't see how that helps me, especially if I tell her I declined."

"You're going to explain to her that you simply didn't want to accept the offer from a virtual stranger. Which implies that you would sleep with a woman you know better—like Janna. Tell her you would have accepted my offer otherwise because you did find me attractive."

"I don't want to lie to her."

Melina frowned. "You don't think I'm attractive?"

Beatrix rolled her eyes. "God, your ego! I mean the rest of it. I don't want to tell her I prompted the disrobing. What would she think of me?"

"She'd probably think you are far more enlightened than she thought. But you don't have to tell her what you did. Just tell her about my antics. It's all technically true. I am talking about sex, and I'm half naked already. In fact, you won't need to embellish at all. I can show you plenty more," Melina added.

She leaned forward to reach the clasp in the back, unfastened her bra, and then tossed it on the seat next to her. She saw Beatrix gaping at her suddenly liberated bosom. Before giving her a chance to recover, Melina kicked off her shoes, undid her belt and slacks, and removed pants and panties in one quick motion. She grabbed a folded linen towel from the side compartment, snapped it open the way Quinn did earlier, and laid it over the grey leather to provide a small barrier between her private parts and the too public seat. Then she turned back around, settled herself gingerly and nakedly down on the towel, and paused to enjoy Lady B's stunned expression.

"You, you," Beatrix began haltingly. She took a breath to regain what composure she could. "You have a huge tattoo on your, uh, lower back," she said, straining to sound calm.

Melina grinned, knowing this was not what Beatrix had meant to say. "Yes, I do," she lied.

In reality, her body mark was natural. With mortals, it was just easier to pretend it was applied. All shifters had a body mark related to their transformative abilities. As a siren, Melina bore the mark of her wings. When she was able to unfurl them, the so-called tattoo morphed into her real wings, moving up and out of her back and spanning twice her height.

The mark sat quite low on her back—on her tailbone, to be precise, directly over her curvaceous buttocks. She was certain it was more the bareness of her backside that had caught Beatrix's attention.

"It's—well, it's lovely," Beatrix said.

"Are we still talking about the bloody tattoo?"

"Yes."

"Is that all you noticed?" Melina teased.

"Well, of course not. You're naked!"

"Yes," Melina said. "And you're not. Quid pro quo, your ladyship."

"Oh, I couldn't!"

Melina reached forward for another towel, snapped it open, and held it out expectantly. "Come on, Trixie. It's just you and me and a pastime that you'll find far more interesting than grant writing for hedgehogs."

"What are we going to do?"