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She could be romanticizing all of this, based on one single night, but there was no denying the truth. When Lyda had asked "Do you want more?" Gen knew the answer was a resounding yes.
She moved to the computer. Searching for male erotic images, she weeded out the crass porn sites and focused on the more artistic venues. She studied long, lean male bodies with smooth muscles, but Noah's eyes were the challenge. She wasn't sure she'd ever met a male with eyes like his. So many different things lay in those eyes, a huge mystery waiting to be unlocked.
In erotic female images, she discovered Lyda in the build of female athletes, though fortunately not one so absent of body fat she had the hard look of a man. Lyda was all female with her full breasts, the nipples high and tight, the nice curves at hip and ass.
She imagined Lyda's lips, her cheekbones. The cascade of her hair framing her face and throat, the shining waves on her bare shoulders. Finally she found the right picture. It was a grayscale photo of a naked woman sitting in shadow, her back to the camera. Only the graceful lines of hip and back were visible, along with her vulnerable nape, because her hair was pulled forward. Gen printed the picture, cut around the outline with her razor and put it against a lavender paper.
Using a fine marker, she wrote Lyda across the woman's back in calligraphy script, the tail curving beneath her buttocks. She wrote the name around the form as well in tiny script, moving outward from there in a spiral. Pulling from her magazines, she pasted other words into the open spaces, creating a garden of words. Lyda's name became the blooms and the words were the green background, or different, smaller blossoms, accentuating and defining the bigger flowers.
Strength, beauty, uncertainty, challenge, control, trust...
When she turned back to the computer, she indulged a darker urge. She clicked on an image of a woman in the stereotypical dominatrix gear she'd first imagined Lyda wearing. Tight, shiny garb, thigh-high boots, whip in her hand. This model had a cruel expression, slick red lips. Gen shifted her gaze back to the naked woman, sitting unafraid in darkness, the line of her back straight, self-contained in her solitude. Beautiful. The essence of Lyda was there, not on her computer screen.
It didn't mean she couldn't wield a whip if she so chose. Gen replayed the sting when Lyda had struck her. What astounded her was how she'd taken it without protest. She wasn't ready to say she'd embraced it, but she'd definitely opened herself to the experience.
Her cell phone buzzed, making her jump. The disruption jarred her back to a less pleasant reality, because phone calls often meant collection agencies still trying to collect on unsecured loans from her ex-husband. If Marguerite hadn't helped cosign on the house, Gen never would have acquired loan approval. He'd destroyed her credit rating that badly. Seeing the nursery number, however, she relaxed. She wondered which voice she'd hear at the end of the line, knowing she'd be thrilled by either one.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Gen. It's Noah."
"I didn't know you knew how to use a phone. Chloe says you're a Fae spirit, unable to touch technology. Something like that."
His chuckle sent a ripple of pleasure from her tailbone up through her vitals. Yes, she had it bad. "That girl is a troublemaker," he said. "Do you have Tuesday off?"
"Depends. Why are you asking?"
He sighed. "I'm surrounded by suspicious females."
"Or smart, depending on how you look at it."
"True. Want to go sailing with me? It's supposed to be a great day for it."
She blinked. "Um...yeah. Remember, I don't really know much about it."
"No worries. Just bring lots of sunblock, a willingness to learn and a swimsuit. Preferably something that doesn't cover a lot. It helps with the wind shear."
"And you wonder why females are suspicious." She laughed. "Should I bring snacks?"
"I'm never averse to snacks. I have a small storage area up front that holds the life jackets, so we can stow them there. I'll have bottled water."
So this would be just her and him, not Lyda. "Did Lyda ask you to set this up?"
"She gave me permission to set it up, but the idea was mine. Is that okay?" His tone was neutral, so she couldn't tell if she'd offended him or not.
"I'm sorry, Noah. I'm not sure how this works. I wasn't trying to be snarky."
"I know that." His tone warmed instantly, reassuring her. "See you in the morning. About eight, at the marina?"
"I'll see you then."
*
When she parked at the marina and pulled the key from the engine, she waited a couple minutes for the motor to stop rattling and cut off. Her car was doing that more frequently of late. She'd learned to ignore people's looks when it did, or crack a joke like, "he likes to complain when I leave him alone". She didn't care she had an old car. It was all hers, and it took care of her.
On the way over, she'd been enjoying the sexy tone of Kylie Minogue's version of "Can't Get You Out of My Head", which was the mood she hoped to sustain today. Seeing Noah first thing helped with that. Maybe too much, since she suppressed the urge to do a few cartwheels when she found him.
He was watching for her, sitting on top of one of the pilings that followed the marina dock. He wore a pair of swim trunks, boat shoes and nothing else. Two young women were walking past him, their gaze lingering, because it was impossible for any straight woman not to indulge in a look. His hair was tied back in a thick tail, but it draped over his tanned right shoulder.
