Jane was startled awake and bolted upright in bed. Someone was banging on the door insistently, great gorilla knocks that rattled the hangers in the armoire and woke the woman sleeping peacefully at her side. They had just closed their eyes, or so it seemed. Three Advils and half a Xanax had made Maura comfortable enough to doze, and now this.
"Hold your fucking horses. Gimme a minute." The knocking stopped. Jane looked about for her discarded clothing, surprised to see black night and the receding lights of St. Thomas through the open balcony doors. They must have slept for hours.
"How are you feeling, baby?"
"Like I'm wearing the skin of a much smaller person."
Jane quirked an eyebrow.
"That's the worst part of a sunburn, perhaps more that the pain, the feeling of tightness, as if my skin will split open when I move."
"More hydrocephalus cream?"
"No. Aloe, I think." Maura bit her lip. "Jane, I love you, but you must know that hydrocephalus is a condition caused by the impaired reabsorption of cerebrospinal fluid in the ventricles of the brain."
"Can't help yourself, huh?"
The doctor flashed a sheepish smile and pushed herself up onto her elbows, painfully scooting across the mattress until her head rested on Jane's warm thigh. Jane ran slender fingers through the tangled golden locks, smoothing the fine strands against her own tanned skin, momentarily mesmerized by the interplay of copper and wheat, caramel and chestnut.
The pounding began again. "The ship better be sinking or somebody's gonna lose a hand." She gently extracted her leg and stood, wrapping herself in Maura's sarong.
"What?" She opened the door, her best cop glower set on her face, and met the merry eyes of Beata Frankenmeier. The diva filled the stateroom door from floor to ceiling and from jamb to post, wearing a canary yellow halter top and lime green tap pants.
"We heard that Maura was ill, so Coco insisted we visit with my bubbe's patented sunburn cure. It's guaranteed to have that girl of yours back on her feet and dancing by tomorrow or my name isn't Bonnie Lifshitz." She winked at Jane.
"Thanks, Beata. Just give me a minute; Maura's not dressed."
"That's perfectly fine. I've seen naked women before, lots of them. Before I met Coco, I had a girl in every port. Well, at least in every city with a major opera house and an artistic budget big enough to pay my fees."
She strode into the cabin, briefly pinning Jane against the wall as she passed. She was followed by Coco, whom Jane hadn't seen behind her much larger mate. Jane ducked her head out of the door to ensure no one else was waiting in the diva's wake, but the hallway was empty.
"Holy Wotan in Valhalla, will you look at that color! You know, I had to wear a gown once, almost that exact shade of pink. It was in Vienna and I was singing Elsa. Who puts Elsa in a fuchsia gown, really? Anyway it clashed with my hair and my skin, and it wasn't cut to flatter me. The critic at Kleine Zeitung said, 'She sings like Fräulein Frankenmeier, but she looks like Fräulein Piggy.' He retracted his comment the next day after Coco went to see him wearing her ass-kicking boots."
"That's right." Coco agreed.
"But look at that tushie. I don't think I've ever seen a cuter little caboose."
Jane was horrified to see the diva's hand reach out and give three little pats to Maura's right butt cheek.
"I could just bite it." Beata added.
Jane quickly squeezed into the room and draped the bed sheet over the doctor's nude body before the diva could make good on her last statement. "Sorry, Maur," Jane mumbled, but Maura didn't seem to mind. "What's a little gluteus maximus between friends?" she asked Beata.
"Exactly." The big woman pressed herself through the narrow gap around the bed and dropped into Jane's vacated spot, eyeing the flabbergasted detective. "That's not a good look for you, Jane. Some women are just not meant to wear a toga."
"It's a sarong." Maura clarified.
"On you it's a sarong. On Jane it's a toga. Coco, bring my cauldron."
Coco had been standing on the balcony, smoking her cheroot. Now she popped into the room holding a plastic bag. Beata made a big show of removing a styrofoam cup and plastic spork. She sat cross-legged on the bed and began stirring the contents. "Oh how I wish Verdi had written an aria for the witches in Macbetto; the roles are wasted on the chorus. This moment just begs for an operatic translation of Shakespeare's words."
"What about Marfa's divination scene from Khovanshchina? It's not quite mixing a potion, but she calls on spirits and stands over a bowl…"
"Brava, Maura! Marfa is a mezzo-soprano, but no matter; I have an eight-octave range."
Maura basked in the praise of her idol, as the big woman knelt and spread her arms wide in the air, concentrating her fierce gaze on the styrofoam cup resting on the doctor's ass. She closed her eyes and began singing in a low, thrumming alto, her tone like a very expensive cello. "Sily potajnye, sily velikie, dushi otbyvsie, v mir nevedomyj, k vam vzyvaju!"
Jane felt the hairs on her neck rise. She had no idea what Beata was singing, but she couldn't help the feeling that something was going to come out of that cup, something frightening. She fought the impulse to knock it to the floor. Nobody was going to put that witch's brew on her Maura. The aria ended and Beata broke character, grinning and chortling, her bosom heaving with lusty whoops of laughter. Jane relaxed; it was all an illusion. Damn, the woman is good.
"What actually is in it?"
"Ah! My grandmother called it 'Schmalz und Essig.'"
"Fat and vinegar." Maura translated. "That's actually a very sound treatment. The vinegar contains acetic acid, which will restore the normal pH of healthy skin, and it has antiseptic properties. The fat is a natural moisturizer. Thank you, Beata, but I'm already employing a very similar two-pronged strategy in the form of…"
Maura's words were cut off as the diva swiped off the bed sheet and in a strikingly graceful move, straddled the smaller woman, hovering a centimeter above her skin without touching it. She dumped the contents of her cup onto Maura's pink back and, using both hands spread out the pungent mess, moving more like she was spackling a wall than applying an ointment.
There was another knock at the door and four pairs of eyes turned in expectation. Jane sighed and opened it. Millie-Joyce pushed her way into the room, her eyes growing wide behind her large glasses as she took in the scene on the bed. "Are we having an orgy? Hot damn! I love a good romp. I haven't had group sex since I retired from professional tennis. You should have seen the women's locker room at Wimbledon back in the day. Backhand and forehand have a very different meaning off the court."
"Sorry to pop your tennis ball, but this is a medical treatment." Beata duck-walked backwards down the bed, spreading her goo haphazardly down Maura's burned legs. "Alas, Coco and I are boringly bourgeois and monogamous."
"That's right." Coco seconded from the balcony.
Millie-Joyce turned to Jane and raised a suggestive eyebrow.
"Uh, no. Maur and I are also very boudoir and we only sleep with each other." Or at least we will, if everyone would get the fuck out.
"I stopped by to check on you. You two high-tailed it off the beach so quickly that you missed the lobster lunch and Beata's timeless rendition of Rock Lobster."
"No worries, Jane, I have it on my set list for the Gayty Eighties Beach Party tomorrow; you'll hear it then." The diva had finished her medical treatment and gestured that she wanted to wash her hands. Both Jane and Millie-Joyce had to leave the stateroom to let her pass. When she returned she was holding Jane's prize-winning dildo in her hand. "Someone was having a little fun in the bathroom."
Jane flushed. "Uh, no. I…I just left it there after I cleaned the doughnut goo off of it."
"Ah…doughnut goo; is that what we're calling it these days?"
Millie-Joyce had taken advantage of Beata's absence to press her way further into the room and recline on the bed next to Maura. She absent-mindedly ran a finger down the doctor's spine. "Sunburn. Hmm, and here I thought you two ran away to gobble each other's titties after the festivities. There was a lot of ta-ta tasting and ninny nibbling on this boat after that wet T-shirt contest. Lots of jug thumping and breast bumping, purple nurples and nippy lippies, mammary guzzling and nannette nuzzling…." The tennis legend was working herself up into one of her frenzies; sweat beaded her brow and her glasses fogged up. "…boobie burping and torpedo slurping, wah-wah licking and cha-cha flicking …" Each phrase was punctuated by a soft tap to the doctor's bare hip.
Maura snorted and buried her face in her pillow, her shoulders shaking with laughter. Jane picked up the discarded bed sheet and covered her once again. She had waited years to see her beloved naked and still had yet to touch her, and here were all these near-strangers feasting their eyes on Maura's curves and caressing her at will. "You find this funny, Maur?"
"Yes. You know I can't resist word play."
Jane softened; Maura's goofy fit of giggles was endearing.
"…honker squeezin' and gazonga pleasin', bosom slappin' and airbag lappin'…"
"Somebody had better throw a pail of water on her before she explodes." Beata warned. The frenetic energy that had won countless tennis matches and could still rile up a crowd to a near riot was a bit over the top for a tiny cabin and an audience of four. Jane was only too happy to fill a paper cup with tap water and toss it over Millie-Joyce's head.
"Blllurrrrrrgh." She spluttered. "Thank you, Jane. I needed that."
There was a tentative knock at the door. Jane rolled her eyes, but opened it. Carla Timmons stood in the doorway. "I heard you were two were cabin bound, so I brought some beer."
"Fine. Come in, if you can find room."
"Good evening, Carla. Where's your friend?" The doctor asked.
"She dumped my ass, said I was a little too interested in other women's breasts this afternoon. I was just trying to do a good job."
"Ah, Dryden said that jealousy is the jaundice of the soul."
"Weren't you a little jealous to see Jane feel up all those hot ladies?"
"Not a bit."
"Um, Maura…" The little policewoman blushed. "…not that I'm complaining, but I can totally see your nip."
Maura shifted on her belly, tucking one stubborn breast under her. "Jane, I have to pee and I'm very hungry."
"Oh. Okay. Do you feel up to the buffet or…"
"Room service!" Beata declared. "I'll call and order a few party platters. This is turning into a fete after all."
Jane approached the bed and helped Maura to sit. "Ming, keep your eyes to yourself." She raised a cautionary finger to Millie-Joyce who was sitting up in bed and polishing her glasses, no doubt to get a clearer look at Maura's rack. "You too, Carl. You know what, everyone on the balcony. Now. All right, baby. Stand up and I got you."
"Can you sit on the toilet?"
"Yes. I'm fine, Jane."
"Do you want me to leave?"
"No, stay. This is the happiest day of my life; I have you and friends." She beamed up at Jane, all dimples and shining eyes and raw red nose. She began to pee and Jane thought she'd never seen anything cuter. She crouched in front of the doctor and took her upper lip between both of her own, drawing it gently into her mouth, tracing its bow with the tip of her tongue. Maura leaned into the kiss, allowing their tongues to barely graze each other. Jane shuddered and braced herself against the tiled wall. She'd never kissed like this before, so achingly slow and tender, caring more about her partner's pleasure than her own, wanting to speak the love in her heart through the delicate movements of her mouth.
Carl knocked on the door once and stuck her head in. "Jesus, you two. Get a room!"
"We have one, but you're in it."
"Right you are, my queen."
"What do you want, Carl?" Jane glared at her.
"Um, Maura, I know you don't drink beer. Can I order something else for you?"
"No thank you. Alcohol consumption increases the risk of dehydration and impedes the healing process. You can get me a few bottles of mineral water, if it's not too much trouble."
"You got it." She withdrew and closed the door.
"Best kiss of my life and you're sitting on the toilet."
Maura chuckled. "Just you wait, Jane Rizzoli."
Jane wanted nothing more than to lose herself in the woman she loved, she leaned in again for one more sweet kiss before pulling away with a groan. "I guess we should go back."
"I guess so."
"Do you need me to…uh, wipe you?"
"Absolutely not." Maura blushed, her cheeks nearly matching the red of her nose. "I don't want the first time you touch me to be for that."
"Right…when I touch you." Oh God.
When they returned to the room their four guests were sprawled on the bed, an ice-chest full of beer open in the center of the mattress.
"Up, lesbians. Maura needs her rest. You wanna lie on your stomach again, babe?"
"I think I'd better."
"Let's play a game." Carl suggested.
"I love games. Help me turn around, Jane. I want my head where my feet are so I can see everyone."
Beata lifted and turned her almost before the words were out of her mouth. "What shall we play?"
"Spin the Bottle." Millie-Joyce declared, hoisting her half-empty Heineken.
"Eww, no. What are we, 12 year olds in our parents' basement?"
"I never played Spin the Bottle, Jane. Is it a card game? I'm not very good at cards, but I'm a fast learner."
"No, it's not a card game. It's a stupid, preteen sex game. You literally spin an empty bottle and whoever the open end points to, you have to kiss."
"Oh. I only want to kiss you, so maybe we could play that later when we're alone."
"Exactly."
"We could play anagrams." The doctor proposed. "Susie and I have a running score in the morgue. Whenever one of us cannot decipher the logograph by the close of business, the other earns one point. For example, I may say, 'SC Chang, I have a patient named Chris Oris, a sir so rich that he died of….'"
Five pairs of blank eyes stared at her.
"Cirrhosis." Maura fell into a fit of giggles. "He died of cirrhosis. Get it?"
"No." Everyone agreed.
"Okay. Give me a minute." She snorted and wiped a tear from her eye. "Here's an easier one. This disease snuck up on him like a pristine cat and stabbed him in the side like a titanic spear."
She looked eagerly from face to face. "Pancreatitis!"
"I don't understand." Carl frowned.
"You take a word or several words and change the letters to make other words. Sometimes a person's name can be rearranged in a manner that sheds light on their personality. Jane Rizzoli, you are a jazzier lion. Or two names together can say a lot about their relationship. Coco, what's your last name?"
"Ogawa." Beata answered for her. "She's of Japanese descent."
"That's right." Coco nodded.
Maura thought a moment. "Together you are a Wagnerian foe maker. Isn't that perfect?"
"It is." Beata agreed. "I may use that in my next interview, but Maura, I don't think any of us has the type of mind to compete with you in this particular game. Might I suggest Truth or Dare?"
"Sure. Is that a card game?"
"No, it's a terrible game and one that I think you and I should definitely avoid." Jane gave her a meaningful look.
"Why? Is it very vigorous? I can't move too well right now."
Jane growled in frustration.
"Au contraire." Beata explained. "When it is your turn, you may choose to answer a question or perform an act, but you must answer with perfect truthfulness, whatever is asked, and you cannot decline the act no matter how embarrassing or ill-conceived it may be."
"I physically cannot lie, so this game should be the perfect fit for me."
"Maura…" Jane warned. "You may be asked things you don't want to answer."
The doctor shrugged.
"I'll begin because I'm the tallest." Beata lay a hand across her breasts.
"No you're not." Jane groused. "Your hair is the tallest. Pull out your driver's license, Frankenmeier, I bet I have half an inch on you."
"For someone who didn't want to play, you certainly are very competitive, Jane."
"Fine, just go first. I'll be the bigger person."
Beata smiled angelically, reclining against the stack of pillows on Jane's side of the bed. She examined her fingernails and took a long swig of her beer, feigning complete disinterest in her target. Finally she raised her eyes and turned them slowly toward Carl.
"Carlotta, darling, truth or dare?"
"Dare. Definitely a dare. Make it a good one."
"Carla Timmons, I dare you to kiss Jane on the lips."
Jane rolled her eyes. "How is this different from Spin the Bottle? It seems just as juvenile."
Carl approached and poked the taller woman in the arm. There was a foot difference in height and Jane had to bend her knees to put her lips within reach. Carl pressed her mouth against them for less than a second and it was over. "Are you jealous now, Maura?"
"Not at all."
"That was about as exciting as kissing one of my little brothers. This game sucks." Jane groused.
"Jane, take a truth."
"Fine. Your dares are lame and loserish." Her heart beat doubled. Please don't ask about my sex life with Maura.
Carl studied her carefully and then burst out laughing. "Jane, have you ever slept with a man?"
"Duh. Of course."
"No way! I call you out on a lie."
"She's not lying." Maura stated. "Jane slept with men exclusively…um, when we met."
The unlit cheroot slipped from Coco's astonished mouth. Beata roared and Millie-Joyce howled.
"I don't believe it. I can't picture Jane under some pumping man."
"I would have pegged you as a gold star, Jane."
"The fuck is that?"
Beata raised her penciled-in eyebrows in astonishment. "A gold star is a lesbian who has never slept with a man. My Coco is a gold star."
"That's right." Coco bowed, a proud grin on her handsome face.
"Me too." Carl added. "No guy has ever stuck it in me."
"Did you like it?" Millie-Joyce asked in all seriousness.
Jane thought a moment and answered truthfully. "No, not one bit."
Everyone laughed.
"Coco, truth or dare?" Carl asked.
"Wait, it's Jane's turn."
Carl pouted.
"Oh go ahead, you big baby."
Carl asked again. "Coco, my fellow gold star, what's it gonna be?"
"She's forceful and dynamic. She'll definitely take a dare." Beata answered.
"That's right."
"I dare you…" Carl scrunched up her face in thought. "…I dare you to put on one of Maura's dresses…the red number that she wore to Led Zeppelin last night and the matching shoes."
Maura clapped her hands. "A dare and a fashion show all in one. I like this game. Jane, get the Herve Léger from the armoire and the shoes."
"That wasn't as funny as I thought it would be." Carl frowned when Coco emerged from the bathroom in the dress that hugged all of the doctor's curves, but hung off of Coco's angles.
Maura took three truths in a row, admitting that she had slept with three women, a fact that made Jane's hackles rise; that she had lost her virginity at 20 to that Fairfield douche; and most surprisingly to her beloved, that it was Jane's mother who had facilitated their relationship when she told Maura that Jane was in love with her.
Jane had held her breath every time Maura's name was called, so afraid that something would be asked about their sex life and that the honest doctor would answer that they had none…yet.
The detective knocked back her third Corona of the evening and popped another pig-in-a-blanket into her mouth. "I'll take a dare." She looked to Maura, but the doctor was busy making her way through a plate of jalapeño poppers and mini-quiche. "Don't make it sexual, Ming, a dare should be, well,…daring."
"I dare you to hang off the balcony for 10 seconds."
Maura's eyes shot up. "Absolutely not, Jane. With your damaged hands and the fact that you've been drinking for the past hour, this is a terrible idea. A fall could kill you."
"Sorry, babe, but a dare's a dare." She put down her empty bottle and strode onto the balcony, avoiding Maura's gaze; if she read fear or hurt there, she would have to back down and lose face. She didn't want to do it, would have, in fact, preferred to kiss Carl again or even Coco, but how could Jane Rizzoli, Queen of All Lesbians, refuse the very daring dare she had requested? Stupid ass, Rizzoli, with your big mouth. She wished she had stuck to mineral water in solidarity with Maura.
"Jane! Please."
She didn't turn around, but swung her long legs over the glass barrier and took a deep breath. "Who's gonna count?"
The other women were soon in front of her, pressed tight onto the tiny verandah. Maura appeared behind them, wrapped in the bed sheet.
"Don't worry, Maura, if she starts to slip, I'll haul her back over." Beata pushed her way to the front and placed one large hand on each of Jane's biceps.
Jane took one more steadying breath, filling her lungs with tangy sea air, flexed her fingers and dropped. This isn't so bad, Rizzoli. You're at the gym with Frost. He's running right next to you on the treadmill and Korsak is sitting on the weight bench eating a Ding Dong. The floor is six inches under your feet. Hang for ten and do a quick chin-up. No problem.
Millie-Joyce began counting. "One Martina Navratilova, two Martina Navratilova, three…"
It was cooler out here; spray blew up from the sea as the quickly moving ship sliced through the waves and it stung Jane's bare legs.
"Four Martina Navratilova, five…"
A salty breeze tore at Jane's sarong and she fought the impulse to reach out a hand to pull it back around her shoulders. The wind died down and then gusted briefly. The green fabric came free and sailed away into the dark. Jane hung naked and shivering ten decks above the black water.
"Pull her up, Beata, please." Maura pleaded above her.
"No." Jane growled.
"Six Martina Navtilova, seven Martina Navlova, eight." Millie-Joyce was counting quicker now, the long Czech name losing a syllable each time in Millie-Joyce's haste.
Jane's hands began to ache, not the usual daily pain, dull and expected, but sharper and shooting like the coldest day in Boston or the weeks right after her injury. She shifted her grip slightly. Beata noticed and immediately tightened her hold on Jane's upper arms.
"Nine Martina, ten. Pull her up."
The diva's warm breath ruffled her hair. "Let go, Jane."
"No way."
"Let go. I have you."
She held tighter, but was lifted despite her protests, up and over the railing as easily as if she were a child. Coco wrapped a blanket over her shoulders and pushed her towards the doctor.
"Jane, you're a complete idiot."
Please don't let her be crying. She opened her eyes, which she had squeezed tightly shut once she lost her garment. The hazel eyes she met were narrowed in anger, not hurt. Good. Then they softened and Maura fell into her arms. She wrapped her own arms around the petite woman, forgetting all about the sunburn. The doctor flinched at the contact, but only clung tighter to Jane's bare chest. "I just got you, Jane. I don't want to lose you. Don't ever do something reckless like that again."
"I won't. I'm sorry, Maura."
The party broke up soon after. Their friends left the pair lying in their bed, Maura's head on her detective's shoulder rubbing the stiffness from her sore hands.
"Jane, you scared me."
"I scared myself." She kissed a pink ear and moved her lips to the baby-soft skin behind it. "I never want to hurt you, Maura, I only want to make you feel safe and loved." She sighed. "Here on the very first day I fucked up."
Maura pulled back to look into repentant brown eyes. "Yes, you did, but I don't love you any less. Just remember that you carry my heart in your hands, and I wouldn't have given it to you if I didn't trust you."
"I'll remember. I remember everything, Maura. Every moment we've spent together, every conversation we've had. I'd lie in bed at night and replay it all, looking for things you may have said, counting the little touches, your smiles, the way you tilt your head when you don't quite get something. I'd comb through it all looking for anything to hold onto…some hope in a hopeless situation."
"It was never hopeless. I've been in love with you for years."
Jane shook her head. "How?"
Maura sighed. "Jane, I always thought you were gay."
"Really?"
"Yes. I imagine that even at the start of our friendship, I had in my mind that someday there might be something more."
Jane was stunned. She leaned back against the pillows and exhaled heavily. "Well I guess I'm gay now."
Maura chuckled. "Do you remember that first time you invited me to your house? You were still living with your parents in the North End."
"Yeah. Don't remind me. I was a 30-something loser with my own cool pad in my parents' basement. I was so embarrassed, but I wanted to spend time with you."
"I did notice that within the month you had moved into your own 'cool pad' in Charlestown."
"I saw myself through your eyes and thought it was time, way past time, to move out."
"That move gave me so much hope. I thought that maybe you wanted some privacy so we could be together."
"Argh. Why didn't you say something?" Jane pulled her hands through her messy hair.
"Why didn't you?"
"Because you were always going out with some big, swinging cock. I was afraid you'd be grossed out and then I'd lose your friendship."
"That's not fair, Jane. I never had one single serious relationship the entire time I've known you."
"But you've had sex with men." Jane whined.
"So have you."
"But I didn't like it." Jane pouted.
"So you knew you were gay." Maura smirked.
"Just for you."
"That's very unlikely, Jane. Sexual orientation is hard-wired at puberty or even earlier. While women do have a more fluid sexuality, I can't imagine the thought never crossed your mind until you met me in your mid-thirties."
Jane drew her eyebrows together. "It crossed my mind, but I didn't dwell on it."
"Ha! Now we're getting somewhere. As I was saying earlier, I remember your parents' house very well. You had a single bed in a room filled with all sorts of sporting paraphernalia and a framed photo of a lesbian in a black leather catsuit."
"What?…Oh, my Leather Tuscadero picture, autographed by Suzi Quatro. It said, 'Keep Rockin' Love, Suzi.'"
"Yes. I saw that photo and my heart sang."
"What did it sing?"
"It sang, 'Lesbian.'" Maura trilled.
Jane snorted. "Well, that was my teenage bedroom. My big-girl room was in the basement, and I had a very adult futon and framed Georgia O'Keeffe prints on the walls."
"O'Keeffe's flowers are notoriously vaginal. I remember lying awake one night while you snored next to me. I tried counting backwards from ten thousand in Russian, which usually works, but it didn't that night; I must have been especially concupiscent. Then I decided to rename your O'Keeffe prints according to what they really looked like. Jack in the Pulpit became Jane's Dark Vulva, Oak Leaves Pink & Gray was The Folds of her Labia, Red Hills, Grey Sky became Clitoris at Rest and Series I, No. 4 was Cresting Clitoris."
"Grrrr. Fine, Maura. I was just a big closet case waiting to break out."
"That was my hypothesis, but you were always so sensitive about it. I never felt comfortable broaching the subject."
"That was sarcasm."
Maura shrugged and shifted back onto her belly with a soft hiss. The bed was a mess, stained with the unguent that Beata had liberally slopped all over her as well as the residue of six adults drinking and eating hors d'oeuvres. "These crumbs feel like a sheet of sandpaper against my skin."
"You're like the princess and the pea; I don't feel anything. But I'd be glad to shake out the sheets for you."
"No, I'll suffer in silence, just like I did for years watching you date men that I knew you didn't love."
Jane laughed. "Oh, Maura, I felt the same way. This is ridiculous. If you'd only mentioned that you swung both ways, I would have made a move years ago."
"You would not, Jane." She began counting on her fingers. "I subscribe to The Advocate, I'm on the board of half a dozen LBGTQ nonprofits, I drive a hybrid, never had a boyfriend in the six years we've been friends. I don't know what else I could have done to let you know. How many times have I held your hand or sat in your lap or slept with you in my bed or yours?"
"Yes, but…"
"But what? I've attended every one of your family functions with you; weddings, baptisms, that strange bachelorette party in Atlantic City for your cousin Cookie, not to mention Rizzoli family dinner every Sunday. Your mother knew. She dropped hints for years, and last weekend she told me to go on vacation with you and work this out."
"I can't believe it." Jane shook her head.
The doctor continued. "I've been your date for every work party and award ceremony, stood by your side at police funerals… I'm certain at least half of the BPD thinks we're a couple and the other half just isn't sure. I'm quite certain that Susie Chang's strange behavior whenever you're in the morgue is due to her assumption that we're doing it. She's never so meek and nervous when it's just she and I alone."
Jane was nearly speechless, she gazed out the glass doors into the star-filled night sky. The same stars that appeared dim and underwhelming in Boston glowed bright and startling here and each brought a scattering of friends with them.
"I guess I wasn't ready." She whispered.
"I know that, Jane, and that's why I waited for you. If this vacation never happened, I'd still be waiting."
"I'm sorry…"
"I'm not. You will always be my best friend and I don't regret a moment we've spent together. It's all led to here."
Maura dropped her head to the detective's chest with a sigh. She began drawing random patterns across Jane's abdomen with the tips of her fingers, circles around the shallow navel that turned to ellipses and ovals over the tight oblique muscles of Jane's flanks and swirling figure eights that doubled back upon themselves as she traced the hidden contour of the inguinal ligament below a prominent hipbone to where it disappeared into a thick thatch of sable curls. "My beautiful black tigress." She murmured.
"I thought I was a jazzy lion?" Jane tried to joke, but her stuttered breath and quickened heartbeat under Maura's ear gave her away.
"You are. You're a jungle cat, lean and graceful."
"I've never been called graceful before. You've seen me dance. In fact…" Her words were cut off as the doctor began sliding those soft fingers down the insides of her thighs, as far as she could reach without stretching her burned skin. Jane's muscles twitched under her hand.
"The gracilis muscle…" She mumbled against the detective's chest. "This runs from your pelvis to your knee." She traced its path. "It's often harvested for use in vaginal reconstructive surgery."
Jane snorted. Leave it to Maura to move seamlessly from sensual and seductive to clinical and icky.
"Sorry."
"No, babe, don't be. I love all your geeky nerdified ways. It's what makes you you."
Maura continued, mollified. "Your gracilis is especially graceful, Jane. Give me another day to heal and I'll trace it all the way down…with my mouth."
Jane swallowed hard. "Okay."
Maura brushed her fingertips through the lustrous dark hair below Jane's navel. A puma. She thought. No, a panther.
She raised herself onto one knee and shifted her weight onto Jane's thigh.
"Maura…what…what are you doing?"
"I'm trying to make this work, but I'm not especially limber today. I definitely have to be on top…"
"We don't need to do this now. I mean, I want to… I've been dreaming of this, but let's wait. Make yourself comfortable and get better. We've waited for six years, what's another day?"
The doctor slid back onto her belly, leaving Jane a slick, wet memento of her desire on her thigh.
"You're right. I think I'm just afraid that I'm going to wake up and you're going to take it back, say this was a mistake or that you will be ashamed to love me when we're back in Boston…"
"Never. I promise, Maura. I love you. I am in love with you and that is never going to change. I marched through Disney World in a dyke T-shirt holding your hand. I will ride a rainbow unicorn down Boylston Street with my triathlon-winning dildo strapped to my forehead if it would make you happy. I love you and you're stuck with me."
"About that dildo…" Maura grinned up at her.
"Maur, I think I want to learn to please you with what I was born with before we start adding special effects. That dildo is advanced placement lesbianism, I'm still in basic training. Besides, I would have to ask Beata to stop in and strap it on me; those buckles are more complicated than a Rubik's cube."
"I think I could figure it out, Jane. I am a genius. But that wasn't where I was headed. I spoke with my mother this afternoon. I needed a little reassurance about… us."
"From Constance?" Jane snorted.
"Yes. Mother is never afraid to speak her mind. She was unequivocal in her opinion that you were as smitten with me as I am with you."
Jane immediately softened her appraisal of the elder Dr. Isles. "I always liked Constance." She said.
"I asked mother for advice and she told me to get naked, tell you how I felt, and then kiss you."
Jane grimaced. "So you deliberately burned yourself to a crisp so you'd have an excuse to get naked?"
"No, of course not, it just worked out that way. I was plotting my seduction strategy when I inadvertently fell asleep on my chaise lounge. My original plan was to return to the room and send you on an errand, perhaps a trip upstairs to your beloved buffet for a plate of fruit. While you were gone I had planned to disrobe, attach the phallus to my person, and wait for you atop the bed covers."
"Really?" Jane squeaked. "Constance suggested that scenario?"
Maura nodded. "Not in quite that elaborate detail, but her suggestion led me to it. What would you have done?"
"I…I don't know. Probably I would have dropped your fruit plate."
"And run away?"
"No."
"In my fantasy, you slowly approach the bed and I whisper, 'I love you, Jane.' You tell me that you feel the same and we kiss, slowly at first…"
"Like this?" Jane bent her head and touched her parted lips to Maura's.
"Mmm-hmm." They kissed softly, tongues barely caressing each other.
"What happens next?"
"You undress."
"Done."
"And then you feed me a strawberry from your mouth."
Jane looked around, but the only food in the room was a half-eaten plate of pigs-in-blankets and a picked-over Caesar salad.
"I take a bite of the strawberry and the juice runs down my chin. You lick it."
Jane flicked her tongue up the doctor's neck, over her chin and across her lips. "Next?"
"We kiss some more…deeper."
Jane was crazed, unable to put her hands on Maura, to pull her closer. She settled for twisting her fingers in golden tresses.
"Then what happens?"
Maura drew back, flushed and panting. "You'll have to wait to see."
A/N: Thanks for keeping with me. Our lovebirds will land in St. Martin very soon.
