Solace & Rosanna Ch. 12

1999: Solace and Rosanna had known each other for a year. In that time they learned a great deal because they spent hours talking, mostly in person as they lived in such close proximity. Solace discovered that Rosanna had a real thing for neatness and order. This subject was the source of several heated discussions and activities.

“Sol, why don’t you put your stuff where you’re going to find it. If you would put your cane, your bag, your shoes, your watch, your brush…everything in a special place, you wouldn’t have to look for them every time you’re going out,” Rosanna said in exasperation as she searched Solace’s coat closet, for what seemed the hundredth time for the bag which solace claimed held the wallet with her credit cards and identification.

“Look, are you going to help me, Sanna, or bitch?” Solace asked, hands on hips, but she remembered something and dashed into her bedroom.

“I’m going to do both because we go through this all the time, and you don’t seem to be trying to do anything about it, Sol,” Rosanna answered in annoyance. She moved around the living room, turning over pillows and looking under tables.

“I have a system, you know!” Solace called from her bedroom. These words stopped Rosanna in mid-search.

“You do?” she asked incredulously. It did not seem possible that Solace, who was always searching for some lost item, had the nerve to say she actually had a method behind her madness. She marched into Solace’s bedroom, which was surprisingly neat. Solace had probably crammed everything into her closets.

“And what would--?” Rosanna did not finish her query because she was stunned into silence by the sight of Solace’s panty-clad rear end as she crawled around her queen-size bed. She finally managed to come to her overloaded senses to ask, “Sol, what are you doing?” Her hands trembled slightly and her heart rate definitely sped up a notch.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m looking under my bed,” Came Solace’s muffled reply. She was sweeping the floor with her hands.

Rosanna’s arousal turned to mirth and she began to chuckle.

“Do you think this is funny, Sanna, the fact that I can’t find my identification and maybe somebody might be stealing all my credit right now?” asked Solace continuing to search, her buns moving from side to side in her efforts.

“Oh, no, Sol, of course not.” Rosanna said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “But why are you looking under your bed for a bag? Shouldn’t bags be hanging on a hook in your closet?” Rosanna asked, making an imaginary circle around Solace’s buttocks as if it were a target.

“I think I might have brought it in here last night. I was so tired; I came right in here and collapsed. I think I dropped it down,” Solace replied, making her way slowly around her bed.

As Rosanna followed Solace’s progress, she looked up briefly and spotted the bag on the window-seat. She said nothing because she was enjoying the show of Solace’s bouncing buns. Her fingers flexed as she thought about caressing those glorious round cheeks. .

“And what system is this, Sol? I have to hear this.” Rosanna crossed the room and sat on a nearby cushion. Solace's only chairs were in her kitchen.

“Well,” continued Solace, “I believe that the brain should not be taxed with trying to remember every minute detail of our lives. So I am selective with my memory.” She finished her speech with conviction.

“And what have you selected to remember?” Rosanna asked as she grabbed the bag from the window-seat and placed it in her lap.

“I have selected to remember how to make those delicious dishes for which you are always complimenting me.” Rosanna could not argue this point as Sol was a wizard of efficiency in the kitchen and her dinners were causing Rosanna to have to work even harder at the gym to keep off the extra pounds. How Sol did it she did not know, an enviable metabolism she supposed. Solace assured her that she only really cooked for her guests and she did not have the inclination to prepare such meals for herself.

Solace stood up and moved towards Rosanna. She leaned over and teasingly stuck out her tongue. As she did so, she noticed that Rosanna held an object in her lap. Solace put out her hands, examined the item, and realized it was her lost bag.

“Sanna, how long have you been holding my bag?” she asked sweetly.

“Oh, not long,” Rosanna replied with a wicked smile.

“And why didn’t you tell me you had it?” Solace inquired further as she attempted to wrench the bag from Rosanna’s death grip.

“Well, I was enjoying your scrambling around your bed. You have the cutest butt.” Rosanna responded in a mischievous tone, hoping Solace would not try to retaliate.

“Oh, really?” Solace said, moving her hands towards Rosanna’s middle. She pounced! Because Rosanna was holding the bag she did not have her usual lightening quick advantage. Solace began to tickle her mercilessly. Rosanna laughed through her protestations and dropped the bag. She grabbed Solace’s hands in her strong ones and held on.

“Not fair! I’ve got to start working out!” shrieked Solace. She was wearing only a short, satin dressing gown, which began to slide up her body suggestively as she struggled to free herself. The garment accented Solace’s smooth body, and it was having a hypnotic effect on Rosanna. She pulled Solace to her and kissed her, her tongue seeking gentle entrance into Solace’s warm mouth. Solace did not protest. Rosanna released Solace’s hands and wrapped her arms around her waist. As the kiss deepened she began stroking Solace’s back in slow, sensuous circles. Solace went limp for she loved kissing Rosanna’s sweeter than honey lips.

Solace broke off the kiss reluctantly, her breathing ragged. She looked right at Rosanna's now flushed face. “You take advantage of me, Sanna. You find my stuff, your way too strong and then you make me weak with your kisses. It’s just not fair.” She twirled her finger around a lock of Rosanna’s dark hair and pulled, not hard enough to do damage, just enough to make her point.

“All’s fair in—“ Rosanna began but was stopped by Solace’s own kiss.

“Please don’t finish that,” Solace breathed as they came up for air. Rosanna’s hands began a slow journey down Solace’s satin-covered back. As her caresses neared Solace’s tantalizing derriere, her progress was halted by Solace’s firm hand.

“No, Sanna,” Solace said, a note of determination, tinged with regret in her voice.

“Why, Sol. You know you want me to.” Rosanna breathed, a note of frustration and confusion coloring her own tones.

“I…you…if we… Oh, just no, Sanna!” Solace broke away from Rosanna, turned and rummaged for a pair of shorts and a tee-shirt that were strewn across her bed. She entered her bathroom and closed the door. As she dressed, she thought about her decision not to allow Rosanna to continue what would surely have been an extremely erotic and satisfying experience. She felt in her deepest core that if she gave herself to Rosanna, it would be the end of their relationship. Rosanna would move on having achieved her goal of conquest. The fact that they shared many interests: music, political beliefs, tastes in plays and musicals and, of course, their shoe addiction, would come up only a distant second. But she also worried that if she didn’t give herself to Rosanna, that Rosanna might give up on her and move on to more willing prospects. She was torn. She asked Jessie about it and had received the non-committal response of ‘do what feels right to you, Solace’. Well, that was no help because what felt right was making wild and passionate love to Rosanna.

When Solace returned to the room, Rosanna was gone. She raced to the living room in a panic only to find Rosanna lounging on her favorite cushion, arms crossed over her chest, legs crossed at the ankles, simply waiting for Solace to make her entrance.

“One day, Sol,” was all Rosanna said. Her voice was low, sultry, and confident.

“One day, Sanna.” Solace agreed.

As Rosanna attempted to continually coax Solace into putting her belongings in a more “blind-friendly” manner, Solace tried to curb Rosanna’s quick and impulsive temper, which had been displayed on several memorable occasions. It was as if a button had been pushed and she could not control herself. One incident stood out in particular because it had almost landed Rosanna in jail. The situation had flared up like a match struck on a birthday cake, but there certainly had been nothing to celebrate.

“Do you want to rehearse tonight, Sol?” Rosanna asked as she leaned on the banister leading up to Solace’s apartment.

“Okay. I think we need it.” Solace responded with a grimace. They had returned from a walk in the Central Park Zoo where Rosanna had described, in animated and colorful detail, the antics of the animals. This had touched Solace's heart. She and Jessie had visited the zoo often , but they were usually so engrossed in discussing some aspect of their lives, that they paid little attention to the cute creatures.

“I’ve got to pick up my suit, but I’ll call you when I’m coming over, okay?” Rosanna said, brushing a rebellious strand of hair out of Solace’s eyes. Before Solace could reply, a car pulled up and a young man in his mid-twenties leapt out, but before doing so he turned up his radio, which was tuned to a heavy metal station. He was of medium height and build, with shoulder length blond hair, which looked in sorrowful need of washing and combing. He wore stained blue jeans and a “Disco Sucks” tee-shirt. He lounged against his car, removed a pack of cigarettes from a pocket, lit it with a lighter taken from the same pocket and began smoking.

Rosanna had turned to make note of him when he pulled up, but she now turned her attention back to Solace. They made an effort to complete their farewells, almost yelling. But the music precluded attempts at conversation. Neighbors stuck their heads out of windows to see who was disturbing their usually quiet block.

Abruptly, Rosanna whirled around, flung herself down the three flights of steps and straight into the young man’s face. Solace reached into her bag, pulled out her cane and made her way down the stairs. She went to stand behind Rosanna.

“Could you turn that down please?” Rosanna yelled into the young man’s face.

“What?” he asked without removing the cigarette from between his lips.

“The music,” Rosanna pointed into the car at the offending radio. “Turn it down. We can’t hear ourselves above that crap!”

Although the young man was taller than Rosanna by six inches, she did not flinch as he straightened up and stood directly in front of her.

“Listen, Butch.” Solace flinched at this name, but Rosanna seemed not to have heard it. “I have a right to play my music anywhere and anyhow I like and you can’t do a fucking thing about it,” he spat back.

“Really?” Rosanna yelled. With that she leaned into his car and pushed the power button and the music came to an abrupt end. Silence and tension filled the air. The sound of closing windows could be heard. Some of the good citizens of a hundred and ninth street did not want to get involved.

“What the fuck?” he stammered, the cigarette falling onto the pavement. “You touched my shit.” He moved, fists clenched, towards Rosanna but before he knew what had happened he was face down on the sidewalk, and Rosanna was sitting on his back, pulling his head by his greasy hair.

“Sanna!” Solace screamed, but Rosanna was in her temper zone. Solace called again. “Sanna, please, let him go! I need you.” Rosanna’s mind cleared and she turned to see Solace’s tear-stained face. She jumped off the young man’s back, kicked him in the buttocks and went to stand by Solace, taking her in her arms. Rosanna could feel solace shaking violently.

A siren could be heard in the distance and a police vehicles soon came barreling down the street. The young man lay sprawled on the ground. Blood was visible under his nose.

“Get up, asshole!” Rosanna ordered. When he did not respond, she yanked him by his tee-shirt and hauled him to his feet. He stood there stunned, probably in shock over being taken down by a woman.

“I’m gonna have you arrested for assault, bitch. My nose is probably broken.” He put his hand to his face; it came away smeared coppery red.

Rosanna said nothing. She stood there, holding Solace tightly.

Two police officers exited their vehicle. They walked up to the trio. They asked the requisite questions and received a colorful, if erroneous account of the situation from the young man. He did, however, have a bloody nose. The officers looked from Rosanna to the young man and back again.

“We’re going to have to take you in, Ma’am. He wants to file an assault charge,” one of the officers informed Rosanna, who still stood speechless and motionless. She seemed incapable of defending herself.

Finally, Solace spoke up. She disengaged herself from Rosanna and with cane in hand proceeded to speak in the opposite direction of everyone.

“Officer, please. This woman is my guide. It took me forever to get anyone from social services and she’s the best one I’ve had so far. If I don’t have her, I’ll starve because I won’t have anyone to go to shop with me. I can’t read signs and my mobility is terrible.” She walked a few paces and began addressing the young man who was behind her. “I’m sorry your nose is injured. I'll be glad to pay for any medical bills. But please, don’t press charges. She was just defending me.”

Rosanna, the young man and the officers stood there in dumb silence. The officers turned to the young man, who gave them a blank look.

“Look, Sir. She’s offered to pay for your medical bills. Why don’t you let it go this time, eh?” pressed one of he officers, his face beat-red with embarrassment.

“Well…” the young man started.

“We’ll give you a ride to Mt. Sinai. You can exchange information.”

“All-fucking right,” growled the young man. He reached into his car, grabbed a pencil and paper from the glove compartment as Solace reached into her bag to retrieve her slate and stylus. Everyone watched intently as Solace gave her work number to the man and he tried to hand his slip of paper to her.

“Rosanna!” she called, flailing her arms about. “Rosanna!”

Without so much as the slightest smile at this performance, Rosanna came out of her stupor and went to Solace’s side. She took Solace by the arm and guided her back to the small group.

The young man withdrew the hand holding out the paper. “Oh, fuck it!” he snarled. He got into his car, grabbed a tissue from the glove compartment, and pressed it against his nose. Once he determined that his nose was not going to drop off his face in a bloody clump, he threw the soiled tissue onto the passenger’s seat, started his engine and drove off, leaving the group standing, mouths agape, in his wake.

The officers turned to Rosanna and told her that she was indeed a lucky woman. They got into their vehicle and drove away. Rosanna watched as they sped off.

Solace and Rosanna made their way to Solace’s apartment where she ordered Rosanna to sit down and calm down. She went to her bathroom and returned with a damp washcloth and commenced wiping the face of a now perspiring Rosanna who sat allowing the ministrations. After awhile, Solace asked, “What happened, Sanna?”

“I don’t know.” Rosanna whispered, shrugging her shoulders.

“I know one thing. He won’t be coming around here too often.” Solace smirked. “Where did you learn that move?”

“I take self-defense classes and they teach us to try to take them down before they get you, especially if they’re bigger,” Rosanna answered, pulling Solace onto her lap. “You did some fast thinking down there, Sol. You should have seen their faces when you were looking in the wrong direction. They didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to do. That was some act. I owe you, Sol. Thank you. You saved my ass!” She finished by kissing her lightly on the lips.

“I’ll have to think of a way for you to repay me,” Solace said as she snuggled into Rosanna, feeling and hearing Rosanna’s heart beat slow.

“I’m sure you will,” Rosanna said as she ran her hands up and down Solace’s back. “I’m sure you will.”