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“All the time. Ever since I’ve known you. Ever since you handed me that first story of yours. Most recently, with the dykes at Gram’s; but it’s been a dozen times before that too. I’m beginning to feel cut out of your life half the time, especially when I want right inside that nasty mind of yours.” She looks at me with a grin that seems pure evil.
My heart and loins pound as she speaks. “Why this? Why now?” I ask.
“It’s always been between us, Cass, always, you just want to ignore it all the time, but I can’t. Believe me, I can’t anymore. Don’t tease me with your fantasies and your stupid stories. I can’t stand it. Maybe it’s this place, and seeing Miriam and that woman… that’s probably it,” she rambles on confused, “but whatever, I can’t hold all this back anymore. And I’m damn sick and tired of tiptoeing around what I want to do, and what I know damn well you want to do too!” I look at Peach in shock. “And, my dear, don’t ask me to be faithful to you on this vacation, because I’m not sure I can be.”
I feel crushed, suddenly weighted down with a thousand pounds of lead all hanging on my heart.
“Who are you going to fuck?” I ask.
She looks at me haughtily. “I don’t know.”
“Does this mean you want to break up?”
“I don’t know that either,” she says, “just let me be.”
I’m left certain that she plans to run back to Miriam; it’s the obvious conclusion of this amazing day. What’s worse is that I can see why she might want to return to her lover; Miriam is an uncommon woman.
But what about those other things, allusions to my stories, the leather dykes, and God knows what else. I wonder what I need to do to make her happy again; there are a bundle of thoughts that rush through my brain. But I dismiss them all, realizing what they might mean. They’re too absurd to even consider.
We remain estranged from each other all evening, and for two days after. We play at conversation, but there seems no way to breach the horrendous feeling of doom that has suddenly overtaken me. It seems al
l through our meals with our hostess, Tasia speaks as if she’s playing us against each other. It continues to be just the two of us and Tasia; and I come to discount Miriam’s claim that there are others at the resort, since none show up for any meal except the three of us. I wish that other women would arrive soon to take away some of the oppressiveness I’m beginning to feel in Tasia’s overbearing presence. Peach changes when we’re with her and her mood doesn’t quickly repair.
Peach is rude to her, snapping quips that are likely meant for me; but since I can’t think of a thing to say, and am hiding away in my thoughts, she aims her barbs at Tasia. The woman ignores them easily, as she goes on to explain to Peach all the things she has done to the house and the grounds since she returned from Portugal. She has some strange tales to tell about some mystical experiences she had on the continent. While I might have wanted to hear about them days before, they sound like silly tales now, especially since she aims her comments solely at Peach—who flatly looks bored with the conversation.
Tasia says nothing to me at all anymore. That bothers me, only because her disregard for me is so deliberate.
“That woman is exhausting,” Peach says when we retreat to our room after dinner on the third day. This time, she appears more congenial, as she rants about Tasia. “I’m not sure I want to stay here any longer,” she tells me. “She’s insufferably boring with all that crazy talk of hers.”
I’m ready to agree with her, though her strange mood swings and cutting accusations at my expense leave me too cautious to agree with her now.
This night, Peach doesn’t touch me at all when we go to bed, and for the first time since I can remember, we don’t make love. I feel as if whatever evil thing is lurking around us is about to come to a head. I look forward to morning when I’ll suggest we leave and find some other place to spend our summer.
About two o’clock in the morning, I wake to see Peach slipping away, out our door. I catch sight of her kimono as she’s almost out of sight.
Warm milk, a book to read? Perhaps she can’t sleep. Now I’m wide awake, perhaps I’ll join her. I get out of bed and move to the bay window looking out into the night. I spot Peach down below, moving from the house into the garden. She’s barefoot. The picture of her leaves me breathless, and I watch mesmerized by the woman I love so dearly—who’s now so dearly distressed. I wish I could fix things, but I’m still at a loss to know what she needs, and much too scared to figure it out.
I watch as Tasia abruptly emerges from the house. Her appearance is a threat to me though I don’t know why. It amazes me that at this hour, Tasia is still dressed in all her gypsy finery. From her vantage point at the patio doorway, she watches Peach for some minutes as I watch them both. Then she moves toward her, I imagine very quietly, so that Peach doesn’t realize she’s there.
Peach turns when she’s just a few feet behind her. Did Tasia announce her presence? I can’t tell. I open my window to see if I can hear them. Though it’s not so much what I hear as what I see that leaves me awed. My eyes tell me everything I need to know as I see Tasia reach out and caress Peach’s cheek. It surprises me that she doesn’t draw away from the woman who was such a bitch in her mind just a few hours ago. Tasia runs her hand through Peach’s hair as she puts her other hand against my lover’s hip. There’s a tenderness about this touch that is as impressive as it is frightening, for it looks as though they are about to make love.
Tasia tugs gently at the sash on Peach’s kimono, so that the robe falls away. She kisses her and runs her hands eagerly along Peach’s body. My lover responds as she often responds to me, her body churning easily in lusty abandon.
Tasia pushes Peach’s hands away as she tries to reach up and fondle the dark woman. And picking up the sash from the kimono, Tasia takes Peach’s hands in hers and binds them behind her. Peach remains willing as if she were asking for this.
As much as I might wish to deny it, the effect on me is arousing. My own hand drops down and finds the soft damp place between my legs.
I watch as the tenderness takes a nasty turn, Tasia is rude to Peach, in much the way the leather dykes were rude to me in the grove behind Gram’s. This seems more personal though. I’ve never seen my lover act so submissively. It’s as if she’s given herself over to this woman to do with as she wishes. All the more startling if Peach truly hates her.
Tasia slaps her tits with a smack I can hear, even above the ocean roar. I hear Peach groan the way she does when she asks for more.
Tasia slaps her face, and her tits again, and then taking some stick from out of nowhere, she forces Peach to bend over as she probes her back side with the rod. I see her press it along her bottom cleft, then she swats her hard with it across her fleshy soft cheeks. Peach falls to her knees and the woman stands back, and prods her more. I hear only the inflections in Tasia’s voice, most of her words are indistinguishable.
At one effective prod to her side, Peach rises and scampers inside, no doubt to some vocal command. She’s more than eager to accommodate this horrid woman.
This appears to me like some pornographic movie playing on a screen before my eyes. I expect to see the scene change to whatever happens inside, but reality hits as I’m suddenly made aware that the picture has moved beyond the camera of my eyes. I’m compelled to find the two actors who now play the scene inside the house.
I bolt from the room, and for a split second, I sense that there’s someone else in the dark hallway. But I ignore the tingling at my back, the intuition that would make me turn. With my concentration fixed on Peach, I slip quickly down the stairs.
