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“Such a tough wait,” I sass her. “Let’s see, there was Miriam, and Rozelle, and Katherine and how many others?”
She smiles wistfully. “It was hard for me,” she says.
“And it was hard for me,” I say. We’ve played some on the dark side since our return, but it’s not been deep enough and we both know it. We’re still gun-shy, almost too timid to begin without the others.
“But the satisfaction…” she says, with a dreamy look in her eye.
In the kitchen, I pop a red grape into my mouth, while I watch her leaning back seductively against the counter, her chest pushed out revealing every curve and swell of her sensuous breasts. I sit down at the table and stare at her. I can’t seem to take my eyes from her. I like to watch her lips very closely when she speaks, they move so erotically.
“You know, I wonder sometimes if it really happened the way I remember it,” I say, feeling wistful myself.
“Did it?” she queries back.
“You read the stories and tell me?” I suggest.
“The truth has a lot of versions, Cassidy, yours is just a single one.”
She moves away from the kitchen counter, and I follow her with my eyes as she slips into the dining room and rustles through one of the bags lying on the table. She returns to me. I look up at her face, at the smile, at the dark eyes, and the dark skin. There’s something moving between us that defies explanation.
I hear a noise and look away to see Munchkin perched on the window sill as she washes her paw with her long pink tongue.
Peach, behind me, massages my shoulders and I lean back, letting the warmth of her hands pour into me, loosening the tension that has made them stiff. Then I feel something encircle my neck, a slip of cloth I think. Studying our reflections in the window with care, I see the ribbon. I watch mesmerized as she ties it into a neat tight bow. I’m amazed how easily she does this, as if she’s done it a thousand times before.
“Does it matter how it happened, or whether it even did?” she asks. “Does it matter where we’ve been, or just where we aim to go?”
A silent subtle stirring ripples over my body, taking me back into the dark obsessive side of me. I wear the feelings like a welcoming shroud…
It’s Elizabeth’s eyes I see in the window, and Anastasia’s voice I hear, and Samantha Clarisse’s hands I feel, all knocking at the wide rude door of my other self. I see the light around me flicker as if it’s getting dark, and I hear the beat of pagan drums as the ribbon collar seems to tighten around my neck.
“Take me back, take me back, take me,” I say somewhere in my psyche, as I feel the first rude snap of a whip against my thigh.
