Sinclair heard Hunter's voice in her father's house. It wasn't whispering the usual litany of sweet nothings, so she figured it must not be a dream. With her robe belted tightly around her waist, she walked into the living room.
"Hey," Hunter greeted her with a cheeky grin. "Just woke up?"
"Something like that." She wasn't about to confess that she'd spent a restless night thinking about her and all that she'd offered a few days ago.
"Either you were asleep or you weren't, so which was it?" She tugged on Sinclair's robe. "Oops." The bit of espresso brown silk had never revealed that much before.
"I guess you sleep naked, huh?"
Sinclair smacked the other woman's hand and stepped away. "Stop behaving like a twelve-year-old boy."
"I can't help it. You bring out the hormones in me." Her crooked grin made Sinclair laugh.
"Fine." She sat on the far end of the sofa away from Hunter. "What are you doing here, anyway?"
"Just dropping some pottery off from Della." She pointed to a pile of brown wrapping and Styrofoam. For the first time, Sinclair heard the noises in the back room. Evidence of Nikki being up and already catering to Hunter's needs.
"She couldn't come herself?"
"She could, but I offered." Her white teeth flashed. "So what are your plans for the day?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"Why don't you want to answer?"
"You're incorrigible."
"So I've been told. What are your plans?"
Sinclair shook her head and gave in. "Nothing much. It's Nikki's day off so I was just going to hang out with her for the day and then walk with her to pick up Xavier from school."
"Sounds fun."
Nikki walked into the room. She looked much more presentable than Sinclair did in her oversized shorts and T-shirt.
"Can I steal Sinclair for a bit, Nikki? Her day with you sounds deadly dull and you know how city girls like to have nonstop fun on their vacations." Hunter winked at the young woman.
Nikki giggled. "Take her. She's been in the house too much as it is." She stooped to pick up the discarded paper and Styrofoam.
"What if I don't want to go?" Sinclair looked from one to the other with disbelief.
"Sure you do." Hunter leaned back in the couch and propped her foot up on one knee. "Go ahead and shower if you want to. I'll wait."
Nikki left with an armload of packing material, still giggling.
"You'll be waiting a hell of a long time. I told you that I'm not going anywhere with you."
"Come on. It'll be fun. You can even bring your camera. And your bathing suit."
A bathing suit? The thought of spending time with Hunter dressed in only her bikini sent shivers of apprehension through her body. Still, her body wanted to shiver for Hunter, wanted to shudder and call her name and twine its legs around the dark woman.
"Fine. Give me fifteen minutes."
It was half an hour before they left. Sinclair couldn't decide what to wear or how to fix her hair. In the end it was a loose cotton dress with her one-piece bathing suit under it. Her hair she first combed loose, then ended up tying back up with a light blue scarf.
"You look nice."
"Thank you," she said graciously. "Nikki, we're leaving."
Faint noises of goodbye floated to them from the kitchen.
"I guess we're off, then."
The jeep was noisier than it looked even though Hunter had put the doors back on, in deference, she said, to Sinclair's city sensibilities. Sinclair wanted to push her out of the truck. Though as they sped over the winding paved roads into the hills, she was grateful for the doors. She clutched onto the Jeep's sturdy frame, praying not to be lurched out the window during one of Hunter's quick turns.
"I don't suppose you could slow down?" Sinclair shouted over the wind.
"Sure." Hunter shouted back. "But only under penalty of being considered an irredeemable fraidy cat."
"Meow."
The jeep slowed down a little.
"Are you going to tell me where we're going now?"
"Sure. Why not?" Hunter looked over at her, eyes sparkling with mischief and fun. "We're heading to the falls. It's quiet and private. I heard you haven't been out much since you've been here, so I'm making it my duty to make sure that you reacquaint yourself with the real Jamaica before you go."
"Are you part of this experience?"
"Of course. Although to hear Lydia tell it, I'm not authentically Jamaican enough. Hopefully you're not that picky."
"I am very picky, thank you very much. But-" Sinclair's gaze flickered over the other woman's body. "You'll do."
The jeep stopped under a canopy of trees. Sunlight filtered through the wide maze of banyans, but only in jewel-like flickers that enhanced the beauty of the trees without compromising any of their shade. Nearby a waterfall roared, full throated and loud. "Here we are."
Hunter pulled a picnic basket and blanket from the back of the jeep. "Come on. We're going just down here."
Sinclair followed carrying her own light bag. The place was indeed deserted, clean with the smell of highly oxygenated water and freshly turned earth. At the falls, white water spilled down moss-covered rocks in an explosion of sound before diving through masses of hanging vines and plants to plunge into the deep pool below. Lily pads floated on the water's surface.
Sinclair looked at her guide in surprise. "Thank you. This is..." Her voice faded away.
"Just enjoy it. That would be thanks enough." Hunter set up the picnic basket and blankets on one of the high, smooth boulders that surrounded the water.
Sinclair put her bag behind her on the driest rocks and took out her camera. Through the lens she noticed new things, the subtle splash of color around them, shy hibiscus that lurked behind large fronds of deep green plants, orange and yellow lantanas with their tiny bouquets offered up as gifts to anyone who cared to pluck them, and Hunter stripping out of her cutoffs and T-shirt. The shutter clicked.
"Are you going to come here and enjoy me, or just take pictures all day?" Hunter was already stripped down to her bone white bikini that showed off her muscled body and the black diamond shade of her skin. Her loosened hair rode the curves of her shoulders and back. Sinclair couldn't help but notice that her breasts filled out the bathing suit rather nicely.
"Is that a rhetorical question?" Sinclair put her camera away and walked over to where the other woman had laid out the food and wine. "This is quite a spread."
"I'm trying to impress you, remember?" Hunter reached up and tugged on Sinclair's hand. "Let's talk later. Come into the water with me."
"Wait! Let me take off my dress." She pulled the white cotton quickly over her head and dropped it on the blanket before jumping into the water. Her skin goose pimpled from the sudden coolness. She allowed herself to fall deeper into the pool, past the wavering weeds, and small orange fish that scattered at her sudden presence. The pool's depth was only about fifteen feet. Sinclair pushed herself off the ground back up to the surface, past Hunter's paddling legs and to the other side of the pool that was frothy with the fall of water from the rocks above. A fine spray misted the air around them.
"You have a beautiful body, Sinclair." Hunter swam close, her hair loose and floating behind her like trails of black ink in the water. "I hope you aren't trying to hide it from me."
"You found me out." Sinclair ducked away from the other woman, dipping back beneath the water's surface to swim to the other side. She knew that she was thin. Much thinner than the lush body Lydia showed off in her delectable frocks and culottes. Even though Hunter had never seen those riches of Lydia's bared, how could she not compare even that hinted abundance to Sinclair's too-thin body?
Hunter's arms circled her under the water. Without even trying she hauled Sinclair up with her. Water sluiced from their faces and shoulders. Below the surface, their legs briefly entwined and their thighs slid closer. Sinclair resisted the urge to swim backward and surge away from her like a frightened fish.
"We're here to have fun, to relax." Her hands spanned Sinclair's waist. "Nothing's going to happen here that you'll regret later. I promise."
Sinclair relaxed for the first time all day. She felt like a fool, like a child unable to govern her body's own responses. But she also felt relief and a heady sense of freedom. At her smile, Hunter groaned. "I think I'm going to regret saying that."
Sinclair swam off toward their blanket, laughing.
After they ate and finished half the bottle of wine, Hunter drowsed in the sun like a big sleepy cat, spread out on the blanket in the white bikini that barely covered any of her skin. The sun and sunscreen made her glisten, irresistible to Sinclair's eyes. Her palms itched to touch that wonderful skin, to know if it was as soft in reality as in her suddenly out-of-control imagination. Hunter shifted next to her and rolled over to her stomach, cradling her cheek on crossed arms. Sinclair could feel her stare under the protection of the mirrored sunglasses. The muscles in Hunter's back rearranged themselves as she watched, curling under her skin like lazy eels. The dark woman took off her shades and dropped them on the blanket. Sinclair resisted the urge to pluck the edge of Hunter's hide-and-seek bikini out of her backside. Instead she leaned over to briefly kiss her mouth before she could lose her courage.
"Thank you for bringing me out here. I know you didn't have to."
"Of course I had to. It's part of my diabolical plan to get you into bed."
Sinclair's eyebrow rose. "You're very direct, aren't you?"
"That's the only way to get what you want most times." Her eyes dropped to the slight swell of Sinclair's breasts under her bathing suit. "Don't you agree?"
Instead of answering, Sinclair took up her camera and stood to go looking for more beautiful things to capture on film. Hunter tugged her back down. "OK, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a pain in the ass, really." At Sinclair's look of disbelief she laughed. "Show me your camera. What does this thing do?"
After a suspicious look at Hunter, Sinclair cradled the camera in her lap and gently turned it over. "That's the manual film advance and rewind crank."
"Are you joking?" When Sinclair rolled her eyes and shook her head all in one go, Hunter picked up the camera and pointed to a dial at the front of it. "How about this?"
"That allows you to control the shutter speed. It works with the lens aperture to control the brightness of the picture."
"This all seems needlessly complicated. Why go through all this when you can just get a digital camera, take the photo, hook it up to your computer, then print it out?" She looked so genuinely confused that Sinclair had to laugh.
"For me it's about the process. I like taking photos. I also like going in the darkroom and developing them by hand. It's therapeutic."
"I knew you were a weirdo the second I laid eyes on you."
"Very funny. Give me my camera back."
"I was just joking, touchy girl." Hunter handed over the camera with exaggerated care.
"This camera has gotten me through some rough times. I didn't pick it up again until recently."
Hunter's eyes were soft on her. "Are you still having rough times?"
"No." Sinclair murmured, watching the face before her transform with a smile. "Not so much now."
After her food settled in her belly Sinclair went for a swim. She floated beneath the surface of the fertile pond, watching the cascades of water from the fall but not being able to hear them. The water rippled like silk above her. Through it she could see Hunter, her long, graceful body spread out on the rock, steaming in the sun. She was so beautiful. Sinclair watched her until her oxygen-starved lungs forced her up for air. As she broke the surface, her insecurities came rushing back. She pushed a hand through her dripping hair, sure that it was sitting on her forehead in unattractive clumps.
"One day I'm just going to cut this all off," she said out loud.
"Don't do that." Hunter rolled over on the blanket to watch her swim toward the pond's edge and pull herself out of the water.
"Do you have any suggestions for what I can do to this hair besides more of the usual?"
"Quit your whining. Let me braid it for you."
"You? Braid hair?" Sinclair dried herself with a towel, paying particular attention to her woolly hair.
"Don't look so shocked. I'm good for more than a few spectacular rounds in the sack, you know."
Sinclair choked on her laughter. "No, I didn't know."
"So what do you say?" Hunter sat up and stretched. "Can I braid your hair for a kiss and another fun outing?"
Sinclair thought about it. "I guess. But if it looks bad the bet is off."
"You insult me, city girl."
Sinclair threw the wet towel at her. "Do we do it now or later on when you're less... horizontally inclined?"
"Now is fine, smart-ass."
Sinclair retrieved her comb from her bag and sat in front of Hunter on the blanket. She leaned into the other woman as the hands in her hair gently began to comb through the thick strands of hair.
"You have beautiful hair," Hunter said in a low voice. "You shouldn't cut it."
"Well, it's not like yours. I have to actually battle with it every morning before it does anything remotely resembling what I want it to."
"Maybe you're just not being gentle enough." Her hands slid through her scalp, massaging as she combed. Sinclair murmured her agreement as she sank back into the gentle touch.
"Hmm. You're entirely too good at that."
"There's no such thing as too good. As long as the ladies are satisfied, I consider it a job well done."
"You must have plenty of satisfied customers on the island."
"Not as many as I'd like." Was that wistfulness she heard in Hunter's voice or something else? "When I moved back to the island a few years ago, I was the new dyke meat for a lot of straight aka bi-curious women here. Even the tourist women I ran into wanted a piece of me. But I soon realized that being the tropical flavor of the moment was even less satisfying than being alone."
"Was that before or after you hooked up with Della?"
The hands in her hair stilled. "So you know about that too, huh?"
"Of course, it's not like you two keep it a secret."
Hunter released an exaggerated sigh. "This island is way too small. Used to be I could seduce a naive virgin and no one would ever know. Now it's broadcast in all the papers from here to Manchester."
"That's the price you pay for being so wanted."
"By you?"
"Maybe."
Her low chuckle vibrated against Sinclair's back.
"That was before Della and I became lovers. She was an escape for me, a reprieve. We had a nice year together."
"I'm assuming from what you just told me that you didn't come fully formed from the wilds of this place. Lydia talks about your notorious days in England, but I've never heard you mention them."
"There's not much to say." Hunter shrugged. "My parents took me from here to England when I was fifteen. After they died I came back. End of story."
"Really? There was no great love in England that you were escaping, no dyke determined to end your days of bachelorhood?"
"Oh, that's your story, Sin, not mine. Love for the island pulled me back here."
"It must be nice to have such pure motives for coming home."
"It is." She heard the smile in Hunter's voice.
Sinclair sighed and leaned back into the cradle of warm flesh behind her. The faint scent of the other woman floated to her on the breeze. Hunter's hands drifted through her hair, already tightening bits of the kinky mass into the promised braids.
"She's not worth all this, you know." Her hand touched the back of Sinclair's neck briefly before returning to the hair. "If she was worth half your sighs she would have been here with you apologizing on her knees for hurting you."
"Oh, I know she's not going to apologize. I doubt that she even sees anything wrong with what she did."
Hunter was quiet above her, patiently twisting Sinclair's hair, and lending the solid warmth of her body to the other woman as comfort. "You'll feel whole again. This pain is only temporary."
Sinclair could only nod. It was true. Already the Regina induced pain was fading to a mild sting. With a start of surprise, she realized that it was her pride that was hurt more, not her heart. She pushed the thought of her ex-lover away and decided to change the subject.
"Della took me to see my mother's grave yesterday."
After a moment's hesitation, Hunter went with it. "Why?"
"I don't know. I was hoping you might give me some insight into that."
She felt Hunter shrug behind her. "Unfortunately, I have little insight into the motives behind a lot of Della's actions."
"I thought you two were close."
"Lydia's been giving up more information again, I see." Hunter snorted in annoyance. "Della and I are good friends. She may just be my best friend on the island, but there are still a lot of things I don't know about her. And it's not because she's secretive; she'll probably tell me if I ask. But I allow her whatever privacy she needs."
Sinclair felt the subtle slap on the wrist. One good friend protecting another. "I'm not discussing her personal business all over the island, although it does seem that my mother was part of that business." She scratched at a dried patch of skin on her knee. "At the cemetery it felt strange being with her. I miss my mother, and I was content to leave her private business in the past. But it keeps confronting me here. First when I found out that my father cheated on her with Lydia's mother and who knows how many other women, and then I found out that she cheated on him, too, with Della and who knows how many other women." She made a sound that could have been interpreted as a laugh. "But I suppose I shouldn't worry. It's all in the past, right?"
"Della sometimes lives in the past. A lot of us indulge her. But you're right, you don't have to be a part of that. I'm sorry she made you feel uncomfortable."
"You have nothing to be sorry for, Hunter. I don't think any of us do."
Hunter breathed softly above her, and said nothing.
An hour later when Hunter finished, her hair was wreathed in tiny braids that brushed her shoulders and back. Sinclair stared down at her reflection in the water, impressed. "You're very good."
"I told you, no woman has ever left my care unsatisfied." She grinned at Sinclair before standing up to stretch. "In case you missed it, that means if you ever have any complaints, keep them to yourself." She threw Sinclair a teasing glance before diving into the water.
At her father's gate much later that afternoon, Hunter shut the door to her jeep and walked Sinclair to the door.
"Thank you for a lovely time," she said. "I enjoyed you."
Irresistible laughter bubbled up in Sinclair's throat. "And I enjoyed you. We should do it again soon."
"I'm free tomorrow after six o'clock."
"Very funny."
"I'm not joking." Hunter stepped closer. "I could lock all my windows if that's what you want. No one will hear you scream my name." Her breath tickled Sinclair's mouth, made Sinclair part her lips and moisten them. "Kiss me."
Sinclair brushed her lips across Hunter's. The taste was so good, yet so subtle that she had to lean in for another. Her fingers slid into the thick wet hair to pull Hunter closer. The soft mouth opened under hers, inviting her in with a flicker of tongue, a squeeze at her waist. Sinclair accepted the invitation, moving into the dark woman with a slide of tongue and wet lips. Her legs fell open and she pushed, gently, against Hunter's hips. The other woman pulled back, breathing deeply.
"Only because we're right in front of your father's house," she rasped.
Sinclair nodded and bit her tongue to prevent herself from begging Hunter to come in.
"I have to go now." Hunter stepped back. "My right hand and I have an appointment to keep."
Sinclair watched her hop into her truck and take off down the road as if she did have an urgent appointment elsewhere.
"Sinclair, is that you?" Nikki came to the front door as Sinclair was unlocking it. Something she saw in her stepdaughter's face made her smile. "Did you have a good time?"
"Yes." Her face heated and she looked away. "I did."
Nikki closed and locked the door behind Sinclair. "You sound surprised."
"Yes, I thought-" Sinclair stopped herself from saying something about having to fight Hunter off. She remembered in time who she was talking to. "I just didn't think I would."
"But you still went."
Sinclair laughed. "Yes."
"Stranger things have happened, I guess." Nikki's smile was teasing.
"True enough." Sinclair looked around, noticing for the first time how quiet the house was. "Where are the boys?"
"At a movie. Some kung fu thing." Nikki shrugged.
"Ah. Boys indeed." She could see where Nikki had made herself comfortable on the sofa with a book turned facedown and a bookmark sticking out from between its pages. Nearby on the coffee table sat a platter of sweet biscuits and a glass of amber colored liqueur.
"I'll let you get back to your quiet evening, then." She started to walk through the living room.
"No. Stay." Nikki made room for her on the couch.
Sinclair came back and sat down, tucking her bag in the corner between the wall and the coffee table.
"So," Sinclair said to break the silence. "What are you doing this evening?" The inanity of the question made her want to roll her eyes.
Nikki giggled. "You can do better than that, right?"
"At another time, maybe. Hunter has my mind doing all kinds of crazy cartwheels today." Too late, she realized what she just hinted at.
"She is a challenge, isn't she?" Nikki looked at Sinclair as if inviting her to share a secret. "Lydia thought she could handle her, but she can't."
Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. "It's not about can't. She just won't."
"I doubt that."
Nikki sounded fairly certain of what she was talking about. It made Sinclair wonder. "What do you know about Hunter?"
"Not much. But I can see that you want to know her better. "
Sinclair felt a blush climb hot and fiery up her throat. She coughed on air and turned away from her stepmother's teasing smile. The phone rang and saved her from responding. Nikki stood up and disappeared into the kitchen to answer it. Moments later she was back with the cordless phone in hand.
"It's for you."
"Hey, it's Hunter." The woman's voice caressed her ear through the phone.
"I know. Is everything all right?"
"Yes, fine. Why shouldn't everything be OK?"
"You're calling me when I just saw you less than half an hour ago."
"So you don't want me to call you, is that it?"
"No, that's not it. Quit putting words in my mouth." Too late she heard the teasing note in Hunter's voice. "What do you want?"
"You. For dinner tomorrow evening. Is that possible?"
"Um." Sinclair swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I don't see why not."
"Good. I'll be by to get you at four thirty."
"OK. See you then." Sinclair ended the call, avoiding Nikki's eyes. "Yes, I do want to know more about her," she finally said, feeling her face heat up again.
Nikki's smile was full of mischief. "No crime in that."
A question took hold of Sinclair's tongue. "Not that I'm trying to find conflict where there is none, but why are you so OK with this?"
"Why shouldn't I be? I know people think that everybody in the Caribbean wants to stone gay people and blame their visit to foreign countries for `turning them gay,' but I had a lot of good girlfriends growing up who still play the games we used to play as children. They're still my schoolmates. I'm not going to stop being their friend just because they don't like what I like in the bedroom."
That was the longest sentence Sinclair had ever heard the younger woman speak. She smiled, feeling a sudden rush of warmth for her stepmother. "Thank you."
Sinclair and Nikki shared the glass of Grand Marnier and conversation until nightfall. When Victor and Xavier came home, Nikki excused herself to tend to her boys and Sinclair went out into the dew-dusted night to be alone with her camera and her thoughts.
When Hunter knocked on the door the next evening wearing a powder blue dress shirt and black slacks that fell in an elegant wave of cloth over shiny black loafers, Sinclair was relieved. She didn't want to be the only one to dress up. Hunter gave her apple-green silk dress a long appreciative glance before greeting Victor Daniels.
"Hello, Mr. Daniels."
When the doorbell had rung he had put down his paper to answer it but Sinclair beat him to it, dashing out of her room in the gauzy, slim-fitting dress. Now he looked from one woman to the other with curiosity. Beside him, Nikki smiled at Hunter.
"Good to see you again," she said.
Hunter nodded and gave her one of her lazy smiles.
"I'll be back later on," Sinclair said.
"We'll probably be in bed when you get back." Nikki was careful not to smile as she said that.
"That's OK. I have my key."
"Be careful then," Victor said with a slow nod. "Drive carefully out there."
"Yes, do," Sinclair said to Hunter as they closed the door behind them.
"Of course." Hunter opened the passenger door of her Jeep for Sinclair. "I wouldn't want to end our date before it begins."
Sinclair rolled her eyes. Hunter did drive slowly this time, entertaining Sinclair with details of her eventful day at the university until they pulled up at the beachfront restaurant. Coconut trees swayed in the front driveway with a sound like quiet laughter, welcoming them into the faux-thatch-roofed building.
The thickly muscled host in a yellow tie led them through the meagerly peopled restaurant out to the large back deck only a few feet from the water. Out here, only three of the dozen or so tables were occupied. Hunter pointed to the table farthest from the others that was tucked in a corner by the railing.
"We'll take that one."
The host pulled out their chairs and laid two menus on the table. "Your server will be right with you." He disappeared back into the restaurant.
"This is gorgeous." The beach stretched beyond them for a few yards before falling into the hypnotic quiet of the sea. Tonight the moon was barely a sliver in the inky sky.
"I'm glad you like it. My cousin, Clifton, is the owner and he's pretty proud of the place."
"It doesn't seem very crowded though."
"It's only five o'clock. He gets most of his business from the late dinner crowd and the brunch set on the weekends."
"How come we didn't have reservations for later, then?"
"It should be pretty obvious to you, you're not a stupid woman."
"Humor me anyway."
Hunter winked. "I wanted you all to myself, of course."
The waitress approached before she could say anything else. "Good evening, ladies." The woman was tall and voluptuously built with large high breasts, easily the size of Sinclair's head each, and full womanly hips held tight by her red dress. She gracefully placed two glasses of water in front of the two women. "Welcome to Celestial."
"Hey, Hyacinth."
The woman looked at Hunter for the first time. "Hey, girl. How are you doing?"
"Good, good. Can't complain, you know."
"Oh, yes. I understand." Her eyes slid over Sinclair. "This your new girl?"
Sinclair hid her smile.
"I'm trying, but you know how slippery some women are."
"Slippery, huh? Interesting turn of phrase, my dear."
Hunter chortled. "Behave, Hyacinth."
"Why? Life is too short." She winked at Sinclair. "Can I get you anything to drink?"
"The house port, please," said Hunter.
"Hmm, seduction wine." Hyacinth grinned and turned to Sinclair. "And you, my dear?"
"Gilbey's and tonic for me, please."
"Coming right up." She did a sassy turn on her high heels and left them alone.
"Sorry about that." Hunter gave the other woman a look of chagrin. "I should have known better than to bring you here."
"It's all right so far. The waitress is fun." Sinclair glanced down at her menu. "Do you bring girls here all the time?"
"No. Not all the time. Della came here with me once. Usually I'm here alone with my laptop." Hunter gestured to the restaurant. "Sometimes it's just nice to be among other gay people."
Sinclair looked around in surprise, noticing for the first time the refined flamboyance of a few of the male customers and the rainbow-colored Christmas lights threaded along the railing of the deck. "This is a gay restaurant?"
"Not exclusively. But a lot of the clientele and staff are. So is the owner."
"Your cousin?"
"My cousin."
"Here you go, my dear." Hyacinth twisted open the bottle of wine and put it and two glasses on the table. I'll be right back with the gin and tonic."
Hunter had just finished pouring wine into her glass when the waitress came back with Sinclair's drink. "Your Gilbey's gin and tonic." She presented it with a theatrical flourish. "Do you know what you'd like for dinner?"
"I know what I'd like, but I'm not sure if-" began Hunter.
"I'm ready, too," Sinclair said. "Can I have the steamed parrot fish with rice and peas?"
"You can have anything you want, sugar."
She arched an elegantly plucked eyebrow at Hunter. The other woman grinned as she gathered up the two menus and handed them to Hyacinth. "Chicken roti for me with a side of corn. On the cob and roasted."
"Yes, ma'am."
After Hyacinth left, Hunter lifted her glass in a toast. "To a pleasant evening."
Sinclair echoed the toast. "And thank you for bringing me here. The view and company alone so far have been well worth it."
"Anytime you want me to repeat the experience just let me know."
They shared a smile and drank deeply from their glasses. The light caught the gleam of burgundy the wine left on Hunter's mouth. Sinclair tasted the gin on her own lips wishing suddenly for a taste of port, preferably from the pair of lips across from hers.
"Don't you think it would be wrong if we got involved?" she asked suddenly.
Hunter put her glass down. "In what sense?"
"Morally, of course."
"Why? I'm not involved with anybody and, as far as I know, neither are you."
"And Lydia?"
"What about her? I never fucked her so there won't be any mixture of sisterly body fluids on my toys or in my mouth."
Sinclair's thighs clenched at the vivid imagery but she pressed on. "What about your emotional attachment?"
"Damn near nonexistent at this point." Hunter sipped her wine. "As far as I'm concerned, what she and I had has nothing to do with us. She's the past. You and 1 are right now."
"Easy for you to say."
Hunter smiled. "It is. You can say it with me if you want."
Sinclair nudged her foot under the table. "Will you please be serious?"
"You want me to be serious? Really? Then how about this? Your tits look amazing in that dress, the perfect size for my mouth." She lifted the wineglass by the rim, dangling it by her fingertips. "I want to lap you up like you were my last meal on earth. I want to fuck you with my tongue and my fingers until you come so hard and so much that your pussy juice drips into my palms. And after I tie you to the bed and make you ready for my dick I'll be able to lick my hand off and taste you all over again."
Sinclair released her breath in a slow, shuddering sigh. But Hunter wasn't done yet. She leaned back in her chair and unzipped her pants. Her lips parted and her eyes fluttered closed briefly before she pulled a slick finger from beneath the tablecloth.
"See how wet I am for you?" She leaned close, tilting her wet finger toward Sinclair, who could smell the briny damp of her, pungent and tempting. Her own body clutched at emptiness, wanting to feel that finger, Hunter's tongue, anything, inside. She bent quickly, a snakelike motion of her head and licked the other woman's finger, sliding her tongue between it and its neighbors to clean it of all its flavor, sucking the long digit deep into her mouth. At first Hunter drew back, surprised. Then she leaned closer, lips parted, breath coming heavily. Sinclair grasped her wrist and pulled her closer, her mouth sucking steadily on the finger, her tongue stroking. Hunter groaned.
"I see you started dinner a little early."
They both jumped back guiltily at Hyacinth's voice. Hunter dropped her hand in her lap and Sinclair blushed painfully and looked down at the table. They made room for the large steaming platters of food the waitress set down before them.
"Enjoy," she said and left them to their meal.
"Fuck!" Hunter breathed when they were alone again.
Yes, please. Sinclair took a steadying breath. "The food looks good." She picked up her fork and held it poised over the fish.
Across the table, Hunter looked flustered. She drank deeply from her water, finishing half the glass in one greedy gulp. When that didn't do what it was supposed to, she drank the whole glass then took a healthy sip of her wine.
"I think you won that round," she said at last.
"I'm just trying to keep up with you." Sinclair forked a bit of the flaky, golden simmered fish into her mouth. It was perfectly flavored with pale curls of onions, bits of pimiento, and tiny tomatoes, wilted and draped across it like bits of confetti. Still her mouth watered for another taste of Hunter. Preferably direct from the source.
"Trust me when I say that you do keep up." With her fork, Hunter dug into the soft flour wrapping of her roti, exposing the curried chicken, potatoes, and spices inside. Sinclair noticed that she used her left hand with no difficulty. Her right hand was still in her lap. Ambidextrous?
"Do you have any after-dinner plans for us?" she asked.
"As of a few minutes ago, yes. But I'm not sure that you'd agree to them."
"If those plans involve any sort of exchange in body fluids, then you're right."
"Tease."
"You started it."
Hunter laughed softly. "I did, didn't l?"
Sinclair hummed her agreement around a bite of rice and fish.
"Then give me a chance to finish it. I promise that I'll make it worth every second."
I'm sure you would. Sinclair shook her head. "Perhaps some other time."
Between the two of them they managed to finish off the bottle of wine and two very large plates of food, pushing aside the sexual tension to satisfy their more immediate oral craving. Still, when Sinclair fed bites of her fish to Hunter she couldn't help but notice the other woman's moist pink tongue as she parted her lips to accept each morsel of food.
"Thank you for dinner, it was wonderful," Sinclair said after Hunter put down money for the bill. They stood and walked out of the restaurant together.
Hyacinth spotted them as they were leaving. "Come back to see us again soon, Hunter darling." She brushed Hunter's shoulder with manicured fingers as she passed to tend to another table of customers. "And behave yourself now."
"She knows you well, huh?"
"Sadly, yes." Hunter laughed. "It makes it hard to keep a secret in this town."
"I'm sure you have some that the fawning majority haven't figured out yet."
"Maybe." Hunter took Sinclair's hand. "Walk down to the water with me."
"A walk on the beach?" Sinclair looked at her. "Are you kidding me?"
"Come on, don't be a spoilsport. It's corny but fun. And I promise not to push you down in the sand and have my way with you."
"Then what's the point of going then?"
"Ah, I'm rubbing off on you." Hunter pulled her away from the parking lot and toward the water. "Come on."
They walked in silence toward the water, hand in hand. Sinclair had tried to pull her hand from Hunter's before but after several seconds of futile struggle she gave up. Besides, the other woman's hand in hers felt good, solid and warm.
"Tell me," Sinclair said. "What's England like?"
Hunter looked at her as if surprised she would ask that question. "It was a place to live. Nothing special. At least not to me."
"Specifics, please. Pretend you liked it a little. Give me the highlights."
"I take it you've always wanted to go but never did?"
"You take it correctly," Sinclair mocked her proper tone. "You are such a stick up the ass sometimes."
"Me?" Even in the dark, she could tell that Hunter was rolling her eyes. "You're the last person who needs to call anybody uptight."
"Shut up and get on with the story."
"Well, let's see. It's rainy and wet. Where I lived it doesn't really snow so much as ice over. And if you're unprepared you can spend a horrendous hour or two slipping and sliding home, holding on to iron fences or, failing that, crawling on your hands and knees over the pavement." She laughed at Sinclair's expression. "That was in south London. They often didn't bother de-icing my street. In nineteen ninety six, I moved to Manchester, just in time for the IRA bomb that blew away most of Exchange Square. Though that wasn't necessarily a bad thing since the place looks much better now that they've rebuilt, refurbished, and invited the homos in to redecorate."
"Are you saying that you didn't have a single good experience in England?"
"I didn't say that. I definitely enjoyed my life there. Don't get me wrong." Hunter's eyebrow rose. "There's just nothing that I find aesthetically appealing about the country."
"Fine. You'll just have to take me there so I can see for myself."
"Will you, as the Americans say, put out?"
"Is that all you think about?" Sinclair asked.
"When I'm with you that's definitely in the top five."
"Pig." Sinclair laughed, not knowing whether to be flattered or insulted.
"I get called so many names, all for lust of a beautiful woman."
Still laughing, Sinclair pulled away from her, the Gilbey's and wine beginning to truly sing in her veins. Foam tipped waves splashed up her legs and knees, cleaving the dress to her skin. "I get the feeling that lust is not an uncommon thing for you to feel. The woman is irrelevant. Your pussy doesn't care who it throbs for."
The moonlight floated silver on the water and over Hunter's face. The scientist knelt to take off her loafers and socks then rolled her pants up. She tossed her shoes and socks a safe distance up on the dry sand.
"At this moment it throbs for thee." Hunter ran into the waves, splashing Sinclair's thighs with the salty water. She tugged on Sinclair's dress, using it to pull her close. "Isn't that enough? Can't it be enough for now? Come home with me." She bit Sinclair's bottom lip, then sucked it into her mouth. "I'll be gentle if you want." Her voice was rough.
Sinclair melted against Hunter, slid her arms around her neck, and returned the wine-flavored kiss. Sinclair stopped thinking. Her body, however, chanted yes with its aroused nipples and wet mouth, the hands grabbing Hunter's ass through her slacks, and the soft panting noises it made. But she wanted to be sure, not overwhelmed like she had been with Regina. Sinclair didn't want to be a victim of her hormones again. She pulled away.
"I can't."
Reluctantly, Hunter let her go. Later, as they pulled up to the gate of the Daniels' house, she touched Sinclair's thigh. "I'm not going to give any false promises. I'm not going to lie to you. My honesty is what I can offer that's better than what you had before. Think about that."
Sinclair climbed out of the jeep, unlocked the front door and walked inside, all without once looking back. It was going to be a long night.
