Necessary Distractions

A literal crimson flush swept through Fatima. She almost radiated heat.

"And you," said the old woman turning to Kylie. "Fatima's been through a lot, so you had better make her feel good."

Now it was Kylie's turn to be mortified as the old woman left after a final wink to them both.

The elevator doors closed and neither of them said anything to each other. The only sound in the elevator was the low volume monotone rendition of Fur Elise on the speaker.

"That was... I mean.."

"Hey it's New York," shrugged Fatima. "People can get away with being weird."

"You haven't seen weird until a middle aged man with facial hair sits next to you on the subway dressed like an anime high school girl," quipped Kylie. "All the way down to highlights, real pigtails and make up."

"I'll see your pigtail guy and raise you the homeless man who has declared his corner of Stuyvesant Park as a sovereign nation. He has a flag, some colourful currency and even a passport stamp if you want it."

Finally, the elevator stopped at Fatima's floor. They stepped out and walked to her apartment. She opened the door and led the way in.

Her apartment was a simple, inoffensive affair with two bedrooms, a kitchen and dining area which expanded into a living room and culminated in a balcony. Thirty seven stories up, the Museum of Natural History and Central Park could both be seen, along with the rest of the Upper West Side.

"Casa de Fatima," said the host with a flourish.

Kylie looked at the light blue walls covered with various pictures. Some had Fatima. Some had her family. She saw one of her astride her bike overlooking a chasm.

"Working my way up the Andes," came the helpful context. "All the way from Chile to Bolivia. My bike has also seen the beautiful desert floors of Arizona and Utah."

She helpfully pointed out the relevant pictures.

"Well travelled, I see."

"Not as well as I would like, but getting there."

Kylie's gaze wandered to a picture of a much younger Fatima flanked by her parents. All three were in front of a bodega.

"My Dad opened that bodega almost thirty years ago. He's Iranian and my mother is from Yemen. I had to learn both Farsi and Arabic as a matter of principle."

She turned her attention from the wall to see Fatima holding out a couple of issues of Salinger's Blade and a pen.

"A few more autographs?"

"Fatima," said Kylie, drawing herself to her full height. "Did you honestly bring me all the way here on your death cycle, make me endure that horrible elevator music and that far too open-minded elderly resident of your building just to sign some manga?"

Fatima smiled and put the copies down. In an instant, she bridged the gap between them and pinned Kylie to the wall, almost dislodging one of her pictures in the process. Her hand grasped Kylie's wrist and pinned it above her head as she tried to writhe and squirm away from her.

"No, I did not. What are you going to do about it?"

"I had-"

Her sass was cut off by Fatima's lips crashing into hers and her mouth being invaded by her tongue. She tasted sweet -- of fresh fruits and honey and so much coffee. She tried taking the upper hand before realising there was just no way. Fatima was relentless, driving her tongue all over Kylie's mouth.

She pulled back for some air before diving in again. Not as aggressive now. This time was like the second helping of that dessert you really like. It was soft, slow, taking the time to savour the smell, the taste, the intimacy. Kylie also responded in kind. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the stirrings of pleasure.

"Tell me, Kylie," she said, her fingers playing with the neckline of her lover's dress. "What would you like to do?"

"Let go of my hands and I'll show you."

"You don't seem to realise this is my domain. I am the boss now," Fatima chided.

She leaned in for another kiss. Their lips were as close as possible without touching when she pulled back. Kylie grunted and tried in vain to break out. Both her wrists were held by a single hand from Fatima on the wall over her head.

"Tell me," she repeated slowly, making the effort to enunciate each syllable. "What do you want?"

"I want... to... kiss you again."

"Good. You're catching on."

Fatima leaned in for the briefest peck before pulling back again.

"I want to kiss you for longer."

"All this demanding. You don't seem to grasp the concept of my domain, Casa de Fatima, yet. Did you ask me what I want?"

"I'm sorry," swallowed Kylie. "What do you want, Fatima?"

"There. That wasn't so hard now, was it? Try that again, with a bit more effort this time."

"What do you want?"

"I want to see you naked."

Fatima released her wrist and took several steps back. She settled on one of the living room chairs and looked straight at her prey.

"Slowly," she said. "Don't rush it."

Kylie held the end of her Nirvana tee.

"Alexa, play some Nirvana, in honour of that soon to be discarded shirt."

Kurt Cobain's voice filled the room like a gentle background sound. Kylie slowly peeled off the tee and folded it on the coffee table. Her jeans shortly joined her shirt, leaving her only in her underwear.

"Keep going," said Fatima, her chin resting on her palms.

Kylie hesitated for the briefest moment. Her mind involuntarily flashed back to the first time Sakura had seen her nude. She recalled the disinterested look on her face, seemingly more into whatever was on her phone. This was after begging forever to go on a date. It felt like buyer's remorse -- only a person instead of a dress that does not fit.

"Hey, look at me," said Fatima, snapping her out of her reverie. "Remember that this is Casa de Fatima. My word is law within these walls and I declare that you look beautiful."

It was almost as if she could read minds.

Kylie nodded in agreement and undid the straps of her bra. They slid off her arms. Her immediate instinct was to cross her arms over her breasts so that Fatima could not see how small and inadequate they were.

"Now why would you do that?" said Fatima, getting up from her chair. "Didn't I say you were beautiful?"

With some trepidation, she let her hands hang by her side. Her breasts were barely a couple of handfuls of flesh each, but plump and firm. Each mound was topped by a pink nipple, which were both currently hard.

"Now come closer. Let me see that body up close."

She obliged, now standing easily within Fatima's reach. Fatima ran her eyes appraisingly over her lover. An alabaster white complexion on a slender frame. A hint of curves around her ass. The rest of her was toned and shapely. A face framed by high cheekbones and blue eyes and topped by a cascade of black curls. Her glasses gave her a nerdy air.

Fatima sauntered behind her and came to a stop. Her eyes were arrested by Kylie's back.

"Yuki Murakami. Google the name. She's one of the hottest tattoo artists in Tokyo. That artwork back there is one of her finest."

It looked the part. A winged angel dressed in armour and wielding a greatsword against a dragon. The edges of the wings segued into tribal patterns that went past her shoulders. Fatima leaned over to study the look on the angel's face below the helmet.

"Just so you know, I drew that before Yuki took her implements to my back to recreate it."

"Let's see if we can make her smile, shall we?" said Fatima, rubbing her hands gleefully.

She drew Kylie into a deep kiss. Her hand went around her neck and the other around her waist as she bent her back on her knees and sank deeper. They fell onto her bed, Kylie on her back and Fatima on top, their kiss unbroken.

Fatima kissed both her cheeks and down her neck. Her fingers found Kylie's nipples and tweaked them gently. She was rewarded by a sharp squeal. Smiling, she kissed her way down to her breasts and took them alternately in her mouth. She clamped her lips around each nipple and lashed it with her tongue while the other was caught in her free hand.

Kylie grabbed a fistful of bedsheets in each hand and arched her back upwards. Fatima continued alternating between each nipple, her free hand surreptitiously slipping down to her now-sopping pussy.

"You're dripping and I'm thirsty. Funny how things work out," she whispered. Two of her fingers were now inside her lover to the second knuckle. She pulled back and pushed in slowly once again.

Kylie's eyes were clenched shut and her nerves taut to the point of breaking when she felt the rough layer of tastebuds rub against her engorged clit for the first time.

After that... oblivion.

* *

Kylie squinted. Something was wrong with the sunlight. Even in someone else's bedroom, the sunlight is not supposed to be blue. She rolled onto her side and opened her eyes a sliver to see a stained glass pane which had been hidden by the curtain last night. Sunlight streamed in through the swirled mosaic of colours, illuminating the room like a kaleidoscope.

She lifted the mass of tousled hair off her face and sat up, wrapping the blanket around herself. Shafts of red and green light shone across the walls. Her clothes were still neatly folded on the coffee table. Fatima's clothes, in comparison, were haphazardly strewn on the floor.

Fatima was a few feet from the bed. Her prayer mat was rolled out towards the rising sun and she sat on her knees with her hands in front of her face. Her eyes remained closed with perfect concentration as she recited under her breath.

Kylie shook off the last of the sleep. She went to grab her clothes and make a trip to the washroom. By the time she came back, her host was putting away her prayer mat.

"Good morning," Kylie said with a broad smile.

"Good morning to you too," she said, pulling her in for a deep kiss.

"Your glass pane is beautiful."

"Thanks. I get to make my sunrise as colourful as I want," Fatima said. "I have some coffee if you want a cup. Not nearly as good as what we've been having, but not bad."

"Grandpa's still with us," said Kylie, scrolling through her messages. "No worse than he was since he arrived at the hospital. Dad and Uncle Howard just checked with the doctors."

Fatima set both cups to brew. Kylie shut her phone and looked up nervously.

"I-I... wasn't bad or anything, right? It's just that... it's been a while."

"Oh you poor dear," cooed Fatima, kissing her on the lips. "Your ex did a real number on your self-worth, didn't she?"

Kylie felt the sting of what she had just said as well. Sakura was always demanding of her in public and disinterested in private.

"You were divine. Do you really think I would have gone back for seconds otherwise? Let alone the number of times I actually did return to you?"

She almost laughed at the absurdity of it. In her thirties, with a woman she had barely known for a week and it was butterflies of her senior prom all over again.

"I know coffee is usually our thing, but how about I take you out for brunch today?"

"Do you have a place in mind?"

"I have exactly the right place in mind."

She grabbed her leather jacket off the back of the dining chair and slid it on in one fluid motion.

* *

"Next time, we're taking an Uber," declared Kylie. "There is no way I am getting onto this thing again. Not with you riding it like Mad Max."

"Welcome to Ocean City, New Jersey."

They strolled along the boardwalk. The breeze wafted in the smell of the ocean. It looked like a town of the last century with the single and duplex houses, the store fronts and strip malls. Kids rode their bicycles down the road separating the boardwalk from the town. A mass of seagulls circled high above them. The ocean was a brilliant blue and sparkled along the path to the sun. Several yachts and catamarans dotted the water all the way to the horizon.

"Take a look."

Fatima pointed at a bodega on the main street. There were stacks of fresh fruits outside. It looked familiar from somewhere.

"Is that your parents' shop?"

The picture at Fatima's apartment had her standing in front of that very shop with her parents. The place had grown since the photo, expanding to take the adjacent space as well, but it was unmistakable.

"Dad still stacks the groceries on most mornings. He has six employees he can pass it off to, but not him. Laying out the fruits of the day is how he started his enterprise thirty years ago and he'll be damned if some kid thinks he can take that from him."

"Where is your house?"

"Same building, second floor. It was a bit tight, but enough for us," she said. "This place where we're taking a stroll, it's my childhood. I rode my bicycle on this boardwalk before I traded up to a Ducati. I kissed Jenny DeLuca on that pier. I kissed her brother, Kenny, on that same pier a few years later. Not that either found out about the other."

"Jenny and Kenny?"

"The DeLucas are not the most creative people, but they do own a great restaurant."

Fatima led them to the far end of the boardwalk where DeLuca's was embedded into the wall in an old calligraphic font.

"Trust me, it is worth coming all the way out of the city for this. The pizza here, out of this world. Not to mention any of the pasta. As for the seafood, it's as fresh as it gets. Dad used to bring me here every time there was something to celebrate -- usually with one of their sundaes."

The inside of the diner could best be described as retro. The paint had faded from parts of the wall and was peeling from the ceiling. The plush red seats and the slightly rickety table added to the ambience.

"Don't be fooled," said Fatima. "They purposely keep the place this way. Tourists can't resist eating in the seventies."

"I remember coming here for a summer vacation once."

"My whole childhood was your summer vacation. People in the city pay so much to go to a beach and I could see the ocean from my window any time I wanted."

"Fatima! Oh my God. I haven't seen you in ages."

"Hi, Mrs DeLuca. Good to see you too."

The stocky woman came over and embraced Fatima. She had a pad and a pen and took down the items Fatima ordered for herself and for Kylie.

"She seems nice."

They sat opposite each other. Kylie clasped their fingers together and kissed the back of her lover's palm.

"Will you be stopping by your place?"

"Not likely."

The change in her expression was immediate and noticeable. The smile disappeared and her tone went flat.

"I went to London after high school. I stayed with my cousin, did my major and then got into London School of Economics. There was a man in my building who lived alone. He was away for a few weeks at a time, but he still kept the place. We ran into each other a lot, until he finally asked me out for coffee... at Caffé Nero."

Kylie held her hand tightly. She could tell it was difficult for her to say this.

"I was twenty four and he was almost fifty. I seemed to be the only one who did not see a problem with this. My parents were up in arms, having already planned to set me up with the son of a mutual acquaintance. Not only that, but the idea of me with the lily white Scotsman George McCluskey was also poorly received. Marrying outside my community generally is."

"You married this man?"

"I was young and stupid. It's not a crime," Fatima said. "Anyway, we didn't get to the altar."

"What happened?"

"I was looking for something when I found another phone in his apartment. The picture on the screen was of George, a woman his age who I assumed was his wife, and his three children."

"Fuck!"

"Suddenly his frequent trips to Glasgow made sense. I had easily bought his story about them being related to his business. Too easily as it turned out."

"What happened when you confronted him?"

"I didn't."

"You didn't?"

Kylie looked at her with open-mouthed amazement.

"I couldn't, okay," Fatima said bitterly. "I didn't know how. I was just twenty four and he was a grown man. Whenever he looked at me, I felt like a confused kid. It went on for several months until I got a call one day... from his wife."

There was an audible gasp.

"She tore into me. It was rough and ugly. I guess it was easier to blame me than it was to blame the father of her children. George hurriedly apologized, told me he still loved me, but could not leave his wife, and he was gone. All those silly dreams I had with him were all gone."

Fatima paused to let out a long sigh. It took effort to say these things. Almost having to extract words physically from the very nadir of her being.

"If only that was the end of it. Mrs McCluskey, still convinced the affair was all my fault, took to social media and posted story after story about me. She found me online and made sure everyone I had ever put on my Facebook friend list knew what kind of person I really was. All my friends, family and even my co-workers saw hundreds of posts referring to me as a homewrecker. She was convinced I wanted George to leave his family and move in with me."

"I'm so sorry that happened to you."

"My parents saw it. Their friends saw it. Ocean City isn't a big place. People who came to the shop asked them about it. Their extended families looked at them differently. They blamed me for all of it. They still do. I was disinvited to Eid and Nowruz. I was generally discouraged from coming to the Ozair family home."

She was on the verge of tears by now. A few drops appeared at the corner of her eye which she quickly dabbed away with a napkin.

"I took a year's sabbatical and went everywhere I wanted. I rode my bike through places where few think of going. I climbed Kilimanjaro, K2 and the Eiger Glacier. I took a hang glider and jumped off Jungfrau. I got high with street artists in Mexico City and separatists in Barcelona."

She paused for a bit to gather her words.

"I moved back here and hunkered down, praying for the storm to blow over. It became a routine -- work all week and ride down to Ocean City for a meal or two during the weekend. Khalid was thrilled to see me. It took time, but slowly, my relationship with my parents started mending itself. They would call me on most days and even let Khalid spend time at my apartment. That stained glass pane was his idea."

Kylie nodded, listening in rapt attention. This was a Fatima she had not seen. Before this there had been smiles, laughter, bad jokes and sizzling sex. Not now. This was where the laughter stopped.

"Then..." Fatima said and paused. Evidently the next part was harder, a further rock bottom. A few moments of excruciating silence later, she burst into tears.

Kylie immediately sat beside her and wiped the tears away with the napkin. Fatima gave in. The facade of cheer she had built and shown for the past few days crumbled. She buried her face in Kylie's shoulder and wept.

They held each other tightly.

"The food is coming."

Fatima quickly composed herself and wiped the last of her tears away just as Mrs DeLuca put two plates down on the table and gave them her trademark toothy smile.

"You girls dig in. I'll get the desserts once you're done."

"Thanks, Mrs DeLuca."

For the rest of the world, Fatima wore a facade. For this woman she had met in a hospital cafeteria a week ago, she had decided she could let it down and be vulnerable.

* *

"Thanks for seeing me all the way to my apartment yesterday. I had dredged up some really bad memories and I didn't want to be alone."

"You're welcome," said Kylie. They were at their usual booth with two cups of espresso between them.

"It's Grandpa's anniversary today. No one gave him a chance in hell of making it this far, but he has. Still on life support and ventilators, but will not go until he completes seventy years with his wife."

"Did you have anything planned?"