Passions Prologue
Dana Keylits

Chapter Twenty-One: The Flower Duet

I hadn't noticed the blister. The one that popped up between my big and middle toes, I just…hadn't noticed it. I was so lost in my own head, my brain a jumbled mass of chaotic images, frustrated thoughts, that the pain radiating up my toes hadn't registered. I'd just lumbered home, one foot in front of the other, marching ever forward, mumbling to myself, probably looking a little out of my mind, and, certainly not caring about that, either.

By the time I'd gotten back to my dorm, the blister was already broken. I kicked off my flip flops and searched through the first aid kit my mom had packed for me, slapping on a bandaid before tumbling onto my bed.

I spent the next half hour just staring at the ceiling. Remembering. Remembering how you felt in the shower, your fingers, your lips, your tongue, the delicious way I suffered as you brought me to climax. The unbelievable stupidity of my mouth, blurting out an 'I love you' without any warning or perspective. What had I been thinking? Clearly, you weren't ready to hear that. Hell, I wasn't all that sure I was even ready to say it.

But, I had.

And now, it feels like something has shifted, something is different.

It's like you're pulling away.

Day Eleven

The small independent movie theater was about half full when we entered. Bette looked around, searching for someone, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. Seeing a cluster of women off to the right of us, she waved at them and headed in their direction, grabbing my hand and towing me behind her.

I didn't know that this was going to be a group thing, I thought it was a date, an opportunity to recover from the unfortunate and ill-timed 'I love you' of the day before, and my heart sank as we approached the group of women.

"Alice, Jeanne, Tracee…" Bette started, gently wrapping her arm around my waist and pushing me towards the women. "This is my friend, Kate Beckett."

Friend.

"Kate, these are my friends from way, way back."

Tracee held out her hand, shaking mine with the vigorousness of a politician. "Nice to meet you, Kate." She turned to Bette and made a face. "And, thanks for making me feel a hundred years old."

Bette laughed.

Alice, a short blonde woman with a pixie haircut looked me up and down. She shook my hand, a coy smile on her face. "Alice Pieszecki."

I nodded.

"So, you're Bette's new," she held her fingers up in air quotes, "…friend."

Bette coughed. "Alice."

Alice glanced sideways at Bette. "What?"

"Play nice."

Alice rolled her eyes. "I always play nice, Bette."

"Sure you do," Bette commented, sarcasm dripping from her lips.

Clearly, there was something between these two, but before I could decide whether I should inquire about it, Bette was ushering me to our seats, directly behind the trio of friends who had sat in the row in front of us and were whispering and giggling, pointing their fingers at some woman who'd just taken a seat in front of them and across the aisle. They seemed less mature than Bette, less worldly, and I wondered how she knew all of them.

When we'd settled into our seats, I leaned in and whispered, "So, which one is your ex?"

Bette seemed startled by this, her eyebrows raised, lips slightly parted and curved. "What makes you think any of them are my ex?"

I side-nodded at Alice. "It's her, isn't it?"

Bette bit her bottom lip as she considered me. "We had a thing. Once. It was awhile ago, and now we're friends."

"Ah," I said, nodding.

She sat back and watched me watch the back of Alice's animated head. The blonde was seated between Tracee and Jeanne and was talking about something that must have been hysterical because the three of them were roaring with laughter. Bette tapped the back of my hand as it lay in my lap. "Are you jealous?"

"What? No. Why would you say that?"

Bette leaned back, opening her bottle of water and taking a generous swig before answering. "I don't know, Kate. You seem," she narrowed her eyes, "…different today."

I shrugged. "I guess I was a bit thrown by being introduced to your friends. I wasn't prepared." I smiled, desperately trying to cover up the fact that, yes, indeed, I was jealous.

Which made no sense, because Bette was seated next to me, not Alice, and we weren't even a thing yet. We'd made no commitments, we'd barely even talked about our relationship, what right did I have to feel jealous? I felt like an idiot.

Bette was about to say something else when the house lights flickered and then dimmed. We both sat back in our seats and turned our attention to the screen. The film was a love story set in Spain, the protagonists struggling with a banal existence, the kind of apathy that grows over time when you ignore the subtle changes that happen between you, until you suddenly realize you feel like strangers and are faced with the decision to either work your way back, or say your goodbyes.

Our heroines (yes, it was a lesbian film) had chosen the former, a struggle that, in the penultimate scene, resulted in what could only be described as soft porn.

I would have been lying if I'd said I was unaffected by the images flickering before me, erotic, carnal images that sent a familiar tickle radiating from my center like tentacles of pleasure unfurling over my body. I wiggled uncomfortably in my seat and reminded myself to breathe.

So, when Bette slid her hand in my lap, inching her way up my leg, halting at the apex of my thighs, seducing me, luring me, teasing me, I had already become so aroused that my legs involuntarily parted and my hips rose to meet her. She pulled at the button of my jeans, freeing it, and then tugged on the zipper. Mindful of the people around us, I covered her hands with mine, and she paused, glancing sideways at me. I met her gaze, my eyes misty and confused, hers aroused and determined. She smiled, her lips parting, her eyes ablaze with desire. For me, I could see it, could see her want, her hunger, for me, and I slowly replaced her hand with mine, lowered the zipper and then guiding her fingers beneath the soft cotton of my bikini underwear.

I was wet, so wet, and ready, wanting, on fire, and she knew just what to do, just how to touch me, how to elicit an urgent response, to send thousands of tiny shivers down my spine, goose bumps over my flesh, a halting labored breath, wordless whispers from my lips. I was rising, spiraling, currents of pleasure coursing through me, a storm gathering in my body as her fingers circled my hardened pearl, over and over, building speed, increasing pressure, until, in a flurry, I felt myself rise and then crash against her hand, whimpering and helpless, sweet aftershocks of pleasure rippling through me again and again.

She withdrew her hand and I watched with hooded eyes as she slowly slipped her fingers into her mouth, sucking the remnants of me from them, her eyes playful and seductive in the intermittent light of the movie screen. I closed the zipper and button of my jeans and crossed my legs, relishing the pressure as it calmed my still throbbing sex. She reached for my hand, entwining our fingers and bringing them to her mouth, she kissed the back of my hand before dropping them to her lap, where they rested until the movie was over.

As the credits rolled, the house lights turning up, Alice turned to look at us, a knowing smile spreading across her lips. "Did you two enjoy the film?"

I blushed. Her smile broadened.

"Yes, we did," Bette replied, linking her arm with mine as we made our way to the aisle.

Alice rolled her eyes, looked me up and down, and then shook her head as she turned her gaze to Bette. "You're so predictable."

Bette stopped, vertical lines forming between her narrowed eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Lakmé? The Flower Duet?"

"Alice, God." Bette grabbed my hand and we continued up the aisle.

"I'm just razzing you, Bette," Alice joked, poking Bette in the back. "But, seriously, you should learn some new moves."

Shit. She'd done this before. With Alice. I shouldn't have been so surprised. I knew Bette had a colorful past, an adventurous past, I just hadn't expected that past to be sitting in the row in front of us, while we were acting out one of its hallmark routines. My cheeks grew hot and I suddenly felt unsure about us, Bette and me, I felt embarrassed and young.

When we spilled out onto the street, all of us blinking against the bright afternoon light, Bette hugged her friends, made plans to see them at a local coffee shop the next afternoon, and then guided us to the parking garage. We walked to her car and got in without a word passing between us. She inserted the key into the ignition, but didn't turn it. Instead, she took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger.

"Kate," she started, turning to look at me. "I'm sorry about that," she shook her head. "I shouldn't have…" I could see a look of regret skitter across her face, darkening her eyes as she gazed at me. "I should have kept my hands to myself."

I shook my head, patting the back of her hand as it lay on the gearshift between us. "I liked it," I reassured her. "I kind of wish your ex hadn't been sitting in front of us paying attention to what we were doing, but, I still liked it."

Bette smiled, reaching out to caress my cheek. "Alice still holds some bitter feelings about how our, um, relationship ended."

"That seemed kind of obvious," I replied, chuckling. "How long were you two together?"

Bette turned to look out the front of the windshield, starting the ignition. "It was short."

"How short?"

"Three weeks."

"Why'd it end?"

Bette turned to look at me, a flicker of something in her eyes. "It's complicated."

I could tell when I was being shut out, so I sat back, clicking into my seat belt as she eased the car out of its space. There was a piece of music that had been in a loop in my head ever since we'd left the theater, and I couldn't figure out where it was from. And then, as though someone had opened my brain and dropped the information in, it came to me.

It was The Flower Duet.

"Huh," I said, not realizing I'd said it out loud until Bette turned to me.

"What?" She asked.

I shooed away the panic rising in my belly, the uneasy feeling ascending my throat like bile. Ignoring it completely, I glanced at her and replied, "Nothing."