Authors: Fiona Zedde
"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 Reginainduced 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."