"Ribbon?" The eldest seamstress asked.
"Yes," Camino confirmed.
The older woman shuffled behind the counter and retrieved a large trunk. She brought it to the front, setting it down with a grunt.
"For a dress?" she inquired, opening the lid.
"No," Camino answered, eyes gazing upon the variety of textures and widths. "for my hair," she added absently.
"Your hair?" The elder laughed. "Oh Camino, you are beautifully eccentric."
They shared a smile. Camino's gaze returned to the ribbon.
"Black," she requested, her fingers ghosting over each spool. "Merlot." She closed her eyes, remembering the fondness of Maite's face. "Brown."
"White?" The woman suggested.
Camino looked at her and shrugged.
"I suppose so. And the deep purple."
"But of course."
"Two yards of each, please. Enough to play with the lengths."
The seamstress nodded and gathered her order. Camino turned her attention to the dress in the display. Her mind wandered back to Maite.
"...we have to be tied with ribbon invisible to the world."
"A ribbon like this?"
Camino chewed on her lower lip, suppressing a smile.
"Here you are, dear," the woman handed her a sack as Camino paid. "Let me know how it works for you."
"Yes, thank you."
Camino left, a smile still tugging at her lips.
_
"Camino, you're late," her mother hissed as she passed the counter. Camino tied on her apron.
"My apologies, Mother," Camino offered.
Felicia eyed her with suspicion. "Where were you?"
"The seamstress," Camino answered cheerfully as she brushed past her mother.
Felicia stuttered, "Seam- seamstress?" Apprehensively she regarded her daughter. She blinked. "And what did you get there?" She questioned harshly.
"Ribbon," Camino answered, smile on her lips as she cleared an empty table.
"Ribbon?" Felicia repeated doubtfully. "Just ribbon?"
"Yes, just ribbon," her voice dangerously close to smugness.
"Please excuse me, Mother, there's work to do."
Camino offered a very soft smile and bowed her head as she excused herself.
Felicia stood there pleased yet confused.
"Very well," she offered to no one.
Throughout the rest of the day, Camino worked with a smile on her face, her plan coming together beautifully. Hopefully no one would question her choice of colors or how the wind would unceremoniously snatch away her accessories
_
The following morning the clouds dissipated. The sun cast light in through the windows of Maite's small studio. The artist absentmindedly tapped a paintbrush against her knee as she reminisced, intimacy fresh on her mind. With a heavy sigh she sat back and regarded the new piece of work in contemplation. Her foot tapped in time with her paintbrush. She was restless. And against her better judgment, she found herself dressed in her trousers and beret, sitting on the restaurant's patio.
She took a breath, resting the newspaper she purchased on the table. She swallowed, fixed an errant strand of hair, and smoothed the napkin at her place setting.
"Good morning."
Maite flinched, unaware of the young woman to her left. She looked up, a prepared morning greeting poised on her lips.
"Good m-" The deep red satin ribbon caught Maite's eyes as Camino leaned forward and set down a fresh cup of coffee. Intently making eye contact, the waitress hovered in Maite's personal space. The artist parted her lips.
"Is there anything else I can get you?" Camino offered, coming to stand.
"No, thank you," Maite answered, flustered.
The young woman bowed her head and excused herself. She stole a glance over her shoulder as she disappeared through the front doors; Maite guilty of watching her.
"Maite!" Rosina gasped in surprise. Maite jumped.
"Oh, I did not mean to startle you." Rosina took a seat at her table. The artist gave a polite smile and reached for her cup of coffee.
"Good morning, Rosina. How are you?" Maite took a sip of her coffee. It was perfect, she fought to keep her eyes open despite the bliss.
"Awake! And yourself? You have not left your studio in days. Busy working I presume."
The woman nodded, placing her cup down. "Yes, especially with the gallery."
"Oh, I simply cannot wait, but you mustn't keep yourself locked away."
She feigned a laugh, "Yes, it seems I have been rather absent from the neighborhood."
"Never know if you're coming or going," Rosina added.
"So it is, the life of an artist," Maite commented.
"Ah, yes, yes." Rosina shifted to rest her elbows on the table. "And the news?"
"I have not had a chance to read from the paper."
"No, no," Rosina looked about before leaning forward to whisper, "of the suitor."
"Ah…" Maite paused only a moment, "yes, I have heard." She regretted allowing herself out of the studio.
"Good morning, Rosina, I thought I heard you," Felicia greeted from the front door.
Maite's back straightened.
"And Maite, lovely to have you out this morning," condescension dripped from the greeting.
The woman merely nodded and took a sip from her coffee.
Rosina gave her a small smile as the mother slipped back inside.
"You will like him," she offered to the artist. Maite's eyebrows upturned. "I must be off, good day," Rosina spoke.
"Good day."
_
Later in the evening, after a pull of liquor, Maite paced her studio, mumbling a scathing reprimand to herself...at herself. The painter's robe gusted behind her with every pass, her current project forgotten. The feelings churring within her abdomen left an unsavory taste in her mouth.
"Can't leave the city, can't leave the apartment," she pinched the bridge of her nose.
Three distinctive knocks tapped on the studio door.
Maite spun on her heel, eyes wide.
"Camino," she gasped. Her body relaxed immediately as she regarded the woman leaning against the door. Young eyes twinkled with delight as an impish grin tugged at pert lips. The woman tisked, clicking her tongue against her teeth as she sauntered into the studio.
"Whatever is Maite to do?" the young woman patronized.
"How long have you been standing there?" Maite attempted to chide, her steps betraying her need for distance. She folded her arms across her body.
"Not long." Camino swiped her finger along the edge of the table, taking an interest in the new work on the easel, purposely ignoring the artist's stern stare. She turned her body towards the canvas. In a moment of weakness, Maite hungerly gazed upon the goddess in front of her.
"You can have it," Camino offered, eyes still fixed on the painting.
"What?"
"My ribbon," Camino glanced at the woman knowingly, the grin reappearing.
"I wore it all day," she turned back to the painting. "For you."
Maite swallowed. Her eyes fluttered, desire coursing.
"Take it," Camino commanded softly, "I have a different one for bed."
Maite trembled at the confession and her suggestive lilt. She watched in rapt wonderment as her fingers pinched the satin material and pulled the ribbon free. The long, chestnut tresses cascaded down the young woman's body. Maite stepped closer still, her breath peppering Camino's cheek. Maite strained, leaving her lips invitingly close to her lover's.
"Good night, Maite," Camino spoke, breath heated against the older woman's lips before she pulled herself away. "See you," she sighed with hooded eyes and then was gone.
Maite brought the satin ribbon to her lips, where she traced the softness against her. It smelled exactly of the spot she affectionately kissed atop Camino's head. She gripped it tight with need, knuckles white with desire.