Dancing With Venus Read online

  Jessie glanced at the busboy and plopped back into her chair.

  “You looked like you wanted something else to drink. Maybe something stronger.” Marci leaned closer and didn't let go of Jessie's hand. “I know what you've been thinking. I know because I've been courting you all day.”

  “You call that courting?” Jessie laughed sarcastically.

  “Okay. I've been pursuing you all day. Since you got here, actually. And I wanted to give you an out. I wanted to make it easy for you to say no. But I also didn't want you drinking something else…something stronger. I don't want you pumped up with false courage if we… I don't want you waking up tomorrow with more regrets than you might have if we…”

  The waiter arrived and set their wine out along with a basket of hot dinner rolls. Jessie's eyes never left Marci's when she spoke. “Could you bring the check, please? We have to leave.”

  “But your meals—”

  “Sorry. It's an emergency.”

  The waiter left.

  Still holding Marci's hand on top of the table, Jessie picked up her wineglass and tilted it in Marci's direction. Marci picked up her own glass, tapped the rim of Jessie's, and waited.

  “Here's to a room at the Madison.”

  Marci parroted the words but didn't sound as enthusiastic as Jessie expected. She tapped Marci's glass a second time.

  “And here's to letting the busboy find his own panties to get into.”

  Marci smiled and sipped her wine.

  Jessie drained her glass as if it contained grape juice.

  * * *

  Jessie stood in the dark behind a vending machine rifling the white leather purse Marci had added to her ensemble. When she found her Marlboros, she flipped the top open and tried to dig one out. Her fingers shook so badly she had to tear the front of the box away to trap one and get the cigarette free. After she got it lit, she crossed her arms across her chest and scoffed at the NO SMOKING sign glaring down at her.

  They'd left her father's pickup with the valet at Pierre's and walked a block in sweltering Memphis heat to the Madison. She'd retreated to the basement parking lot while Marci went for a room. Jessie's heart was racing, and she didn't know if her hands trembled from fear or anticipation.

  Another faceless name?

  She blew a smoke ring at the ceiling.

  But this one has a face, doesn't it? Idiot.

  Jessie blew another ring and watched it drift up lazily.

  But tomorrow I can still get up, get dressed, grab my things…and there she'll be. Sleeping on my bedroom floor. Shit! Shit! Shit!

  She puffed again.

  Or in my bed.

  She stepped out of the small room and ground her cigarette out on the concrete. A couple walked by, and the woman scowled at the lawbreaking smoker. Jessie watched the man's eyes sweep up her bare legs and linger at the front of her dress. She flipped the man the bird when the wife wasn't looking, and he turned away.

  You don't know me that well, asshole.

  Every time she heard a car, she scurried back to her corner until she got a look at who was inside. She knew Bob over at Mercer's would have a ball with something like this. Midway through her third smoke, she started looking for street exits.

  How rude would it be?

  She took a drag and watched the smoke billow in the confined space of the vending-machine room.

  It's just Marci.

  Jessie paced around the soft-drink machine and scurried back to her corner when another car drove by.

  Just some friend of my kid sister.

  Ice fell in the ice machine, and Jessie jumped like a scared rabbit.

  Someone I hardly know.

  Jessie looked in her nearly empty purse for nothing. Just to have something to do.

  Just like all the rest.

  She finished her smoke and snuffed it out with a vengeance on the concrete floor of the garage.

  She's just some fucking Greek goddess.

  She pushed the glass door open and looked around for anyone who might be watching. She suddenly felt conspicuous.

  The kind of woman every other woman loves to hate for her exotic good looks and natural grace.

  Purse strap snug in the crook of her arm, Jessie took a step in the direction of bright light pouring down an exit ramp from Baxter Street.

  Just some perverse Venus rising from the Butler farm quarry to lure innocent young girls…

  “There you are. I couldn't find you.”

  Who the hell am I kidding?

  “I needed a smoke.”

  Eyes bright, a warm inviting smile in place, and a room key dangling from her fingers, Marci was standing a few feet away. She dropped the key in her purse and reached her hand out to Jessie.

  A hot, humid Memphis breeze swept through the parking garage. A car door slammed, and somewhere a man laughed. The bell on the exit arm dinged, and Jessie raised her hand. Poised inches from Marci's fingers, she whispered, “I'm scared.”

  Marci slid her hand into Jessie's and pulled her close. With no preamble she put her hand up Jessie's dress. Before Jessie could move she felt a finger slide over the soaking crotch of her white thong, press the cloth to the side, and go in.

  “I'm not.”

  A flock of birds somewhere fluttered restlessly, spread their wings, and reached for the sky. Jessie knew exactly where the flock of birds was. More importantly, she knew where they were going.

  Chapter Five

  Hand in hand they entered the elevator, and when it stopped at the ground floor and an elderly couple got in, Jessie almost let go of Marci's hand. Her fingers straightened and her arm jerked, but then she grabbed hold and pulled Marci to the back of the elevator with her. When the couple stepped off on the third floor, Marci turned and whispered.

  “Jessie, it's okay if we… We can just…”

  There were no more ifs. No more skittering heart or trembling knees. No Bob at Mercer's, no faceless names who whispered and taunted. Jessie pushed Marci into the wall of the elevator and kissed the woman with all the unrequited doubt and pent-up passion that had been driving her crazy all day.

  Marci's lips were warm, wet, and supple. Her mouth was sensuality in motion when she kissed back.

  When the elevator stopped on the seventh floor and the doors dinged open, Jessie grabbed the front of Marci's dress and dragged her to the open doors. She leaned out and looked left, then right. When she found the hallway empty, she pulled Marci out and shoved her up against the wall beside the elevator.

  “Which room?” Jessie was panting. Two seconds was too long to wait for an answer. The elevator left, and she raised Marci's arms above her head against the wall and kissed her again. A thought boiled to the top of her brain.

  Is it Marci or is it the taboo that makes the woman in my arms so hot?

  “Seven-oh-three.” Marci managed to speak between pants before Jessie found her mouth again. When the elevator doors dinged open a second time, Jessie pulled Marci's arm down and grabbed her hand. She ran, reading numbers as she went.

  “Here! Here!” Marci pulled free and stopped to fumble with the key. Jessie looked over Marci's shoulder at a man in a suit, walking toward them. She grabbed the key from Marci and dropped her purse. They tumbled through the doorway, and Jessie found another wall to pin the object of her lust to.

  “The door! Get the door!” Marci was frantic.

  Jessie ran, bent for her purse, and caught the suited man staring past her into the room.

  “Fuck off. I got mine. Go find your own.”

  The guy picked up his feet and walked away quickly.

  Jessie slammed the door and turned. Marci stood at the foot of a four-poster bed, waiting. Jessie steadied herself against the wall of the short entry hall and took an unsteady step toward the fascination she hadn't been able to get out of her head since their first kiss.

  “I have to tell you something, Jessie.”

  Jessie kicked her sandals off and in five more steps was standing face-t
o-face with Marci. Her desire was so strong she could feel their bodies pull toward each other like magnets. The last thing she wanted was words. “What? What do you have to tell me?”

  “I…well…”

  Wide-eyed, Jessie watched Marci reach out and slip a quarter-sized white button on the white summer smock she'd put on at Marci's insistence. With the third button undone her dress gaped, her halter chafed against her nipples, and Jessie was trembling. Marci knelt at her feet, and Jessie sighed. One of Marci's hands slid up the outside of Jessie's thigh and came to rest beneath Jessie's dress, inches from the waistband of her thong.

  “Later.” Marci looked up and said again, “I'll tell you later.”

  Marci continued slipping buttons, and with each one Jessie's heart pounded harder. When Jessie's dress fell open obscenely, she felt lost in a dizzy soup. With slow movements, her gaze never wavering from the top of Marci's head, Jessie shrugged out of her dress and let it fall on the plush tan carpet at her heels.

  She stopped breathing. Her heart pounded in her chest. She waited and watched. In her mind she urged.

  Marci ran her hand across the smooth, silky skin of Jessie's thigh, sending a shiver up her spine. First one finger on one side of Jessie's thong tugged daintily. Then three fingers on the other side. Marci looked up, and Jessie saw no smiling ripples in the deep black eyes that looked back. Only burning bottomless pits that threatened to consume her. Another tug. A pull. A slide, and Jessie felt the sopping crotch of her thong peel away like the slow, seductive riff of Stevie Ray Vaughan setting up his next song.

  Jessie's knee jerked when Marci's hands slid past, pulling her thong all the way to her feet.

  No turning back now. The deed is done.

  Marci's palm moved up the outside of Jessie's leg, then detoured to her ass. Jessie licked her dry lips and drew a ragged breath.

  This was not a stolen kiss and a bed shared out of hospitality. Neither was it awkward groping and more kissing in the sanctuary of a dark bathroom or changing room. Less an alcohol-laced game of give-and-take with a faceless name.

  Marci's tongue nestled between the fat swell of the lips of Jessie's pussy and pushed a squeak up Jessie's gullet. The long wet draw of Marci's tongue up her manicured pubic hair brought her legs alive with a million goose bumps.

  So soft. So tender. So absolutely nasty.

  When Marci's tongue returned, it lingered and explored with abandon. Jessie's nipples were so hard they hurt from the pleasure. Marci nuzzled with her nose, and Jessie brought her hand to the top of Marci's head and sidestepped, opening herself slightly.

  Tongue followed nose. Murmur followed sigh. Lust ran around Jessie's head chasing doubts with a big mean club.

  Jessie moaned. She raked her fingers through Marci's hair until she found scalp.

  Licking turned to sucking, and then, without warning, Marci's mouth was gone. When Marci kissed Jessie's belly button, Jessie dropped her hand to Marci's neck and played beneath the luxuriant curls that cascaded down her back.

  Marci stopped and suckled each of Jessie's nipples, and Jessie felt as if her insides had melted. She grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled Marci to her mouth. Marci's wet, slippery lips drove Jessie further into the dungeon of desire. She pushed and shoved until Marci sat on the footboard of the bed before tumbling away.

  Jessie climbed into Marci's waiting arms, and her heart sighed with relief.

  No map was needed. No instructions requested or given.

  Jessie slid her hand across the silky, soft skin of Marci's inner thigh until her fingers found a touch of lace. They kissed while Jessie dared to slide her finger beneath the lacy crotch of Marci's panties and ponder the wet, soft folds.

  A minute felt like an eternity to Jessie while she fumbled with Marci's dress. The tawny cotton print was banished to the floor, and Jessie passed on appreciating the black transparent bra and lacy thong that remained. Instead she pulled and tugged until a breast was free. She licked and suckled, kissed and caressed. Her hand played inside Marci's panties until the woman in her arms was panting and her back pulled into an arch as tight as a bow.

  The lovers' struggle and tussle for dominance settled in a flurry of pillows, sheets, and a plush bedspread with Marci on top. She crawled down Jessie's body and knelt between her legs. Jessie closed her eyes, sucked air through her clenched teeth, and pulled on Marci's hair while she ground her hips. Marci was driving her crazy with her tongue. She would stop and suck, then move her tongue back and forth in some frenzied dance that seemed to be connected directly to the pleasure center in Jessie's brain.

  She sucked air again, shoved her tongue against the roof of her mouth to trap her hard-won breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and ground against Marci's mouth. Her stomach rose, her thighs tried to close around Marci's head, and she shattered into a convulsing, drooling ninny who couldn't tie her own shoelace to save her life. She pushed on Marci's head to turn off the bolt of lightning that was burning her brain. She scooted on the sheets and yelled, “No no no!”

  Marci was relentless and cruel.

  Jessie fell back on the bed exhausted and did something she'd never done before in her entire life after a romp between the sheets. She sobbed. Her sobbing turned into an uncontrollable cry, and she hid behind her hands. It was impossible for Jessie to look the only person, other than herself, who had ever made her really feel like a woman inside and out, in the eye.

  When Marci pulled Jessie into her arms to comfort her, Jessie only cried harder.

  * * *

  Jessie shoved the sheet down and stretched. This time she found blue and gold sparkles in the ceiling. When she looked to her left, there was a naked Greek goddess beside her, facedown, drooling on a pillow. She traced the indentation on one side of Marci's spine and smiled when a sleepy hand groped, trying to chase her away. She traced the other side and was treated to a swat.

  “You're mean,” came out muffled and drowsy.

  Jessie kissed Marci's shoulder and petted her bedmate's bare bottom. “Not as mean as some people I know.”

  What the hell am I doing?

  Jessie jerked her hand back. The full weight of consequence came crashing down like a poorly built shack around her head. Doubt pushed the question out of her mouth. “Why did we do this? I mean, why me? Did you look at me and say to yourself 'she's…'”

  “A dyke?”

  Jessie cringed. “No, I was going to say a psycho woman.”

  “There's that too,” Marci teased.

  That one hurt, and Jessie didn't say anything. Marci pushed up, kissed her on her bruised cheek, and whispered, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Why you? That's kind of like the music question about country and blues. Everyone makes choices. If they're lucky they get to make those choices based on likes. Maybe even their heart. You're one of those choices for me.”

  “But you don't even know me. How could you—”

  “I've known your music for a year. Your voice. Some would say your soul. Kimmie plays your music all the time around her apartment. I've heard every Jessie story there is to tell. You're her hero. That was enough to get me interested. And I was just as disappointed as your sister when you didn't answer her wedding invitation.”

  Marci caressed Jessie's breast. Not salaciously. There was a warm, loving tenderness in the gesture that made Jessie pull Marci into her arms and cling in spite of the voice in her head. Their legs tangled and they kissed.

  “Yeah. Don't remind me.”

  “Why didn't you? Confirm?”

  “Let's not go there right now.” Jessie withdrew a little. “So if I'm easy, are you the lesbian?”

  “That's one word for it I guess. Lesbian. Dyke. None of them do justice to what…” Marci's words trailed off.

  “And men? Any of those in your past?” The idea was one that had never entered Jessie's mind before when contemplating Marci. Suddenly the thought of sharing didn't seem right.

  “I don't dislike them. I guess you could say I don't know them.”<
br />
  Jessie considered the answer a minute.

  “You mean you've never been with a man? In your entire life you've never—”

  “Had you ever been with a woman before this afternoon?”

  “But that's different.” Jessie avoided mentioning page thirty-seven. But that was different too. That was one of them.

  “Why? Because my body's made for a man's enjoyment? Protrusion A into slot B? Is love really just a protrusion and a slot?”

  “The natural order—”

  “And what I did to you earlier…as a woman. That didn't work for you? You didn't enjoy that?”

  “I—” Jessie couldn't say the words out loud. That would make it real.

  Marci kissed Jessie's lips closed and added, “You didn't feel like you'd been loved? Because that's what I was doing. I wasn't fucking you. I wasn't having a lesbian moment. I wasn't even dyking out. I was loving you. That's what I wanted you to feel. Loved. What were you doing?”

  I don't know? Trying not to melt and slide off the edge of the bed?

  Jessie didn't trust herself to answer.

  “Was I just another name for your little pink notepad?”

  “What? What the hell are you doing going through my stuff?” Marci's disclosure incensed Jessie.

  “I found it on the floor this morning beside your purse while you were in the shower. I didn't look much. But I looked enough.”

  Jessie pulled away. She felt betrayed.

  “I'm sorry, Jessie. Really. I didn't even know if it was yours or Debbie's. When I looked through it to see whose it was… Well, I didn't have to read too much to understand what it was.”

  “Oh yeah? And what is my little pink book?”

  Marci scooted across the bed and took Jessie back into her arms. When Jessie tried to shrug away, Marci wrapped her legs around Jessie and hugged into her back. She whispered in her ear, “I think that little pink book is about someone angry. Angry about a lot of things.”

  Jessie swallowed her feelings and nearly choked.

  “Maybe it's someone hiding from something. I don't know. And I don't care. The one thing I do know is that little pink book has nothing to do with the Jessie I know. The one with the beautiful smile. The one who rants around when she gets scared. The one who can make the moon weep with just her guitar and her voice.”