“No, but still beautiful,” she said. “Like you.”
The last glint of day died away; Dusk shrugged her cloak out over us.
“What shall we make for supper?”
I smiled. “Something light and easy. I don’t mind.”
“Alright then. I’ll cook, you clean. Come on.”
She rose to her feet, and pulled me up after her.
She wrapped her arm around me, hand on my hip where she always loved to have it, marking me as hers before all of Heaven and Earth.
“Come on, lover,” she breathed.
“So make me, then,” I answered her, grinning.
“I know how to tempt you. Dinner, then dessert : some lovely, rich, succulent cake.”
“Tease,” I proclaimed.
“I know. Come on.”
We set off back up the slope beneath the first winking stars of evening to where our chalet waited for us, candles already lit and red wine airing.
Behind me was nothing but the sea sinking into the gentle pastel tones of evening.
Beneath me was nothing but the soft sand, still warm under my bare feet.
And ahead of me, nothing waiting but laughter, light, and, at last, the embrace of my love’s arms.
_________________________________
NEW STORY TITLE:
MOONBOW (Lesbian sEX)
******
Part One
I was seeing double. Unfortunately, however, I was hearing nothing. I tore my gaze from the identical twin sisters discussing my housing fate in the nearby kitchen. There was no point in staring at the two blue-eyed brunettes anyway… Despite Apartment 202’s open-concept design, their voices were so hushed, I couldn’t hear one syllable from where I was sitting. Recalling that old saying about a watched pot never boiling, I admired my aesthetically pleasing surroundings to distract myself.
The pictures I’d received didn’t do the place justice… A kitchenette, dining section and living room constituted its common areas. While two bedrooms connected by a ‘Jack and Jill bathroom’ made up its private spaces. As suggested by the outdated bathroom-between-rooms layout, the building was an older one. In terms of square feet though, compared with the modern condo units that fell within my (unimpressive) price range, this apartment would definitely give me more bang for the buck. Size-wise, it was no penthouse, but at least it wasn’t a shoebox either.
What primarily drew me in though was the living room. It was bordered by a mix of exposed red-brick walls and plain white ones. It also had three large windows that let in a lot of sunlight for a second-floor apartment. Its furniture consisted of mismatched pieces that shouldn’t blend well together but somehow did… Positioned around a large gray filigree rug were: a three-seater navy-colored couch, a low glass table, an olive green accent chair and a garish patchwork armchair. There was also a 65-inch wall-mounted flat screen TV with a glossy white entertainment cabinet below it. In my eyes, the room struck the perfect balance between art and function, between individuality and practicality.
Nothing was official, so I knew I shouldn’t get my hopes up prematurely… But I couldn’t stop visualizing myself living here. It sounded silly, but there was just a vibe in the air that told me it would be such a conducive environment. Probably because the three-bedroom unit I was due to vacate soon had to be part of the Top 3 worst places I’d ever lived in. It was a dingy apartment that I’d been sharing for the past year with a young married couple and another woman in her late twenties. During daylight, there was non-stop banging from the nearby construction yards. While at night, there was non-stop banging from my three roommates’ two bedrooms. Funnily enough, I preferred the former… Digging and drilling were easier to tune out than mewling and moaning.
But beggars couldn’t be choosers. After an unexpected but necessary breakup last year, I was forced to find a new roof real quick. Anyway, suffice to say that in my regular pursuit of peace and quiet, I’d spent more money on overpriced coffee and pastries than any rational person in my tax bracket should. Given how much of a nightmare my current living situation was, I was hoping that it was time for my luck to turn.
Even the longest streak of misfortune had to end at some point, right?
Now that I’d seen Apartment 202 with my own eyes, I would’ve been severely disappointed if Gray didn’t think I’d be a good fit for her. I turned my head to sneak another glance at the pretty twins. I was desperate for a clue as to which way they were leaning toward. The attempt at stealth proved to be pointless. My potential roommate and I locked eyes as soon as I looked in their direction. Her pink lips curled up in a smile and tiny dimples appeared on her slightly freckled cheeks.
Despite how anxiously hopeful I was feeling, grinning at her came naturally to me.
It went without saying that the internet wasn’t the best place to turn to when one was looking for a new home. ‘Stranger danger’ or whatever. But it wasn’t like I’d responded to some sketchy post on an infamous classified ad website. Gray and I were placed in contact with one another by a second cousin of hers whom I’d recently met during a work gig.
Long story short, this whole situation was the result of modern-day serendipity. Last week, my new acquaintance had read mine and his cousin’s ‘perfect-fit posts’ on the same day, i. e., she needed a new roommate to split rent with and I needed a new place to move into. And fortunately, he’d taken it upon himself to act as a go-between for us. I’d ended up direct-messaging Gray first, and our back-and-forth communication culminated in the ‘roommate interview’ that was transpiring this afternoon. Though we’d just met, based on how different she and I were from one another, I was certain that if a third party hadn’t randomly connected us, we would’ve never crossed paths. From our initial conversations, I’d learned that we were not only part of unrelated industries but also active in distinct social circles.
After a few more torturous minutes, the twins returned to the living room with their verdict. They sat on the couch opposite the colorful armchair I was on. Ironically, although Gray’s overall appearance was edgier than her classically clean-cut sister’s, she was the less intimidating one.
No joke, they had to be one of the most easily distinguishable pairs of identical twins on the planet… Their facial features and body structures might’ve been mirror-images of each other’s, but only Gray had a plethora of tattoos decorating her pale skin. Earlier, she’d described her sister to me as ‘the artist’ and herself as ‘the living canvas.’ Which seemed accurate-she was art incarnated. Dressed in a cornflower blue sleeveless romper, the many multi-colored inked pieces on her legs, thighs, arms, shoulder blades, upper back and even neck were at least partially visible. In stark contrast, her twin had no tattoos that I could readily see.
I flinched whenever I had to get a shot on my arm, so I wondered how high Gray’s pain tolerance was after the countless times a buzzing tattoo gun had glided all over her skin.
“So, Cass…” Not that I minded, but she’d called me by the shortened version of my nickname from the get-go. Accordingly, she’d also made it clear to me that I shouldn’t call her by her legal name (Grace). A twinkle of light gleamed from the small diamond stud piercing on her left nostril. “I just have one last question for you: are you a serial killer?”
I blinked, confused by the dark unexpected inquiry. I wondered if I’d unwittingly done or said something that gave off ‘murderer vibes.’ Before I could assure her that I had no desire to get booked into ‘Belle Reve Federal Penitentiary’ or attend the annual dinner party at ‘Hotel Cortez,’ her twin cut in.
“Gray! Can you take this seriously?” She requested, annoyed. “Sorry, Cassidy.”
“‘Humanity takes itself too seriously. It is the world’s original sin,'” Gray recited from memory. I had no idea what she was quoting, but the words obviously weren’t hers. “‘If the caveman known how to laugh. History would have been different.'”
“Stop,” her twin demanded. Sitting side by side, I internally likened the pair’s polar opposite facial expressions to those of Melpomene (the Muse of Tragedy) and Thalia (the Muse of Comedy). The contrasting masks of theater. “I’m not even kidding.”
“Fine, fine.” Gray raised her hands in a surrendering gesture. “I am taking this seriously though. I asked her what you wanted to know, didn’t I?” Her bright blue eyes directly met my green ones. “Cass, my big sister here who, take note, is older than me by a whopping twenty-two minutes… She’s worried about something bad happening once she moves out to live happily ever after with her new fiance. But that’s not on you. She’s just paranoid ’cause she falls asleep listening to true crime podcasts. Anyway, can you just put her overdramatic ass at ease by promising me you’re not going to murder me in my sleep or whatever?”
Despite the absurdity of the request, I nodded, yes. “Sure, ‘I promise I won’t murder you in your sleep or whatever.'” I mimicked her playful tone and teasing smirk. “Cross my heart, Gray.”
“Cool.” She grinned, baring her straight, white-teeth smile. “Since we’ve already settled all the important stuff, when can you move in?”
I couldn’t see my own reflection at the moment, but I knew for a fact that on my face was a carbon copy of her beaming expression.