CHAPTER NINE

ARTIE TUCKED BILLS INTO the portfolio the waiter had left fifteen minutes ago. “So Josephine Baker really was a spy for the French Resistance?”

Nikki’s nod was emphatic. “Her sheet music had notes about German troop locations and camps written in invisible ink.”

“That is totally badass.”

“Totally.” Nikki trailed a hand over the glass and wood gate as they left the restaurant. “She used every gift she had to keep a grip on her own life. There were women who came before her as examples — Lily Langtry, for one. Beautiful, desirable women that men believed they could buy. Not just her time, but her soul, her mind, all of her, like she’s a jewel to show off, but kept in a fancy box with a lock on it. Josephine resisted that, every day of her life.”

The ripple of Nikki’s long, supple fingers moving in the air as she talked tested Artie’s ability to follow the conversation. “Was she ever arrested?”

“I don’t think so. People dismissed her as a frivolous exotic dancer who sang. She moved easily between polite and not-so-polite society. Went to all the embassy parties, opera openings. Musically, she celebrated African rhythm mixed with the French romantic chanteuse style. Though, if you ask me, it didn’t seem to matter what she sang. It was always unique to her. Not bad for a Black girl from St. Louis who didn’t finish grammar school.”

“Paris favors the bold.” Artie guided their steps toward Murano’s main canal. “It seems to me that many women in history were looking for a place to exist outside the boxes men made for them. Veronica Franco was like that, too, though I don’t know if she was outside the box in the same way. Josephine Baker seems as if she refused to see a box at all. Veronica abided by the boxes of society, except for those made specifically around gender norms. If a man in her social sphere was permitted to do it, she assumed she had the right to do it as well.”

“Two kinds of women,” Nikki mused. “Intellect and talent burning to find an outlet.”

Their shared bottle of Montepulciano had left Artie with a pleasant glow and no real desire to move anywhere quickly. Nikki’s mood seemed equally mellow. There were almost no other people out as they wandered the arched stone bridges that interlaced the Murano canals. Music and laughter drifted in the air from a taverna that was still open, mingling with the gentle slap of water against the banks of the canals and the occasional low rumble of a passing boat.

As they walked, she pointed out glass work that was featured everywhere, from large public sculptures and memorials to small private embellishments at doorways and atop fences. The lamps came on slowly, throwing shimmers of golden light across the deepening blue waters. It was Nikki who pointed out Venus as it separated from the horizon and sparkled in the night sky.

“It’s like being far away from the rest of the world. Out of time, even.” Somewhere along the way, Nikki’s fingers had knitted with Artie’s as they strolled. It felt natural and easy.

They paused on the Bridge of Locks where names of couples were written on padlocks and fastened onto the wrought iron fencing.

“This one is Antonio and Maria,” Nikki read. “Marco and Clara. Vicenzo and Sofia. Ah! Here we have Gloria and Chiara.”

“Marco and Gustavo,” Artie read. There were hundreds of locks, some long rusted and impossible to read, and a few so new that red and white bows tied around them were still bright and fresh.

Nikki was humming, and with a grin sang quietly, “Lock my memory in your heart, and we’ll never be apart.”

“I don’t know that one.”

“It’s ‘Forget Me Not.’ Martha Reeves and the Vandellas.”

“I’ll have to Spotify it.”

The mellow lamps along the main canal made Nikki’s sundress even more vividly white, and the way it molded to Nikki’s torso and hips seemed to Artie like an artwork of its own. They were nearly alone on the second to last vaporetto back to Venice. The twinkling lights of the distant city seemed lazy in the warm night air. No hurry, they seemed to whisper to Artie, because Venice will always wait for you.

But Nikki can’t, Artie thought. She’s going home.

::Tomorrow doesn’t need your attention to arrive anyway.::

The voice was right, she told herself. One day at a time.

The air on the bay had lost most of its humidity and they found seats on the small back deck under the emerging stars. The night breeze on Artie’s face felt heavenly.

Nikki lifted her hair from her neck. “It’s only been a few hours, but I feel as if I’ve had a week’s vacation.”

“Even in winter this is wonderful.”

“I can imagine.” Nikki sighed as she gazed in the direction of San Giuliano on the mainland. “I was feeling very homesick. Now I realize some of that was not getting grounded in the place. I felt lost from home and lost here, too. Thank you.”

Artie wasn’t sure where she found the courage, but there seemed to be only welcome in Nikki’s eyes. She leaned into Nikki and their lips met for a soft, lingering kiss that ended with a shy laugh.

“In the gravy,” Nikki murmured. “Face-first.”

Even though there was nothing on earth as good as sausage milk gravy on biscuits, Artie couldn’t think of a way to compare herself to the hot, silky liquid that wasn’t exceedingly gross, even if she was feeling exactly like that.

::Kiss her again, nitwit.::

She did and felt Nikki smile against her lips and then they were exploring each other’s mouths with unhurried touches of tongue. Artie’s senses were overrun with the rise and fall of the boat, the smell of salt, the breeze rippling across their bodies, and so much, so much, the sensation of Nikki’s chest against hers, feeling a heartbeat with a shared syncopation.

For long, wonderful minutes there was nothing more than the soft touch of their lips and shared low laughs of rising pleasure.

“So,” Nikki said when they finally moved apart. “What’s your day like tomorrow?”

“I have a tour group at two.” Artie studied Nikki’s mouth, loving the lopsided smile.

“Does that mean I could buy you breakfast?”

The tingle in Artie’s hands was joined by a throb of desire that drowned out the sound of the vaporetto gliding smoothly into docking position at Fondamente Nove. “Or I could make you breakfast. I have a bit of ham, some bread and cheese, because you can never have too much bread and cheese. There are several local varieties that—”

Nikki’s kiss was quick and firm.

Artie laughed as Nikki leaned back with a satisfied, dusting-hands gesture.

“That was to shut me up, wasn’t it?”

“Could be.”

“You realize that isn’t a disincentive? Would you like to know all the names of the different marbles at the Saint Mark’s?”

Artie laughed into Nikki’s briskly delivered kiss. “Tell me later. After breakfast.”

Nikki’s smile came so easily to her, Artie thought. A life where laughter is the first choice. “So, I take it you’d like to have breakfast at my place?”

Nikki lifted her gaze from the gap between dock and boat as the vaporetto pushed away. Her glistening eyes were full of invitation. “Only if I stay the night.”

Artie didn’t know where the surge of confidence came from. It was intoxicating. “In my bed? You won’t get much sleep.”

“Sleep isn’t what’s on my mind.” Nikki’s lips were so close to Artie’s that Artie could feel their warmth. “So that’s going to work out.”

The surge of seductive confidence fled as quickly as it had flared. “I’m out of practice,” Artie admitted. “I keep thinking just take it slow.”

Nikki’s throaty laugh sent the flames in Artie’s body leaping even higher. “Slow can be my specialty.”

“I can do slow.” It felt to Artie as if they were poised at the first highest peak of a rollercoaster ride, at that moment between rising and the long, heedless, scary, wonderful fall. “And we still have the rest of the vaporetto ride to wait through.”

“‘An-ti-ci-pa-tion,’” Nikki sang. “I hope it’s making you crazy.”

“Yes. I have to warn you, though. There is a three-flight walk up to my place.”

“As long as you’re at the top of the stairs with me.”

Artie didn’t remember anything they talked about after that. She was certain that she’d pointed out various landmarks, and Nikki had asked questions, but her brain was occupied ticking off the vaporetto stops. And wondering if she had the strength and expertise to make Nikki’s night memorable. Trying to remember if she’d put a carafe of water into the refrigerator. Hoping her landlords and their kids were tucked up for the night so that nothing burst this amazing bubble around them, filled with its magical air.

She ran out of words, and they climbed the stairs in silence. Only at the door, with her key in the lock, did she manage a normal sounding, “Would you like a drink? Something cold?”

“Yes, but not right now.”

Artie flipped the switch to turn on the power to the outlets. The light at the far end of the attic room blossomed. She was profoundly grateful she’d tidied up.

“What a great space,” Nikki observed.

“It is. The high windows let out the heat. Facing north, I get lots of indirect light all day.” Her pulse was so loud in her ears it was hard to focus. “It’s twice the size of the apartment I shared with a roommate at Colum—”

Nikki’s hands cupped Artie’s face. The laughter was gone as her lips found Artie’s and their mouths opened to each other with a hunger that unleashed a growl in Artie’s throat. She pushed Nikki against the wall, liking that they were nearly the same height, and nuzzled at her earlobe before running the tip of her tongue from the soft space behind Nikki’s ear to the edge of her collarbone. Salt, bone, skin, soft.

“I want to devour you whole,” she whispered.

Nikki’s arms fell to her sides as she gasped and shifted her weight to allow Artie’s knee between hers. They kissed for breathless minutes, and Artie finally moved her hands down Nikki’s back to find the tab on the sundress zipper. The low burr blended into the pulse beating high in Artie’s throat. Nikki arched as Artie slid one hand inside the dress, her fingertips teasing at the lacy edge of silky underwear.

Nikki’s gaze never left Artie’s face as she pulled down the straps of her sundress. Moments later, the garment drifted to a rest at their feet.

Falling.

And falling.

The round, ripe swells of Nikki’s breasts were deliriously alluring as her bra straps slipped from her shoulders. Artie’s fingertips traced the beguiling curves, and she thought again how Renaissance painters would have adored Nikki’s full figure and seductive décolletage.

It was like touching art, but not the stuff of fantasy. This was real. Living skin, in the present. Nikki’s sigh was welcoming, and her shiver as Artie kissed her way across the tops of her breasts was all the encouragement Artie needed.

She stepped back long enough to pull her own shirt over her head. The garment had scarcely cleared her head before she felt Nikki’s fingers at the buttons on her jeans, then the wonderful strength of those supple fingers sweeping around her waist and hips.

They laughed, at the same moment, and their gazes locked, brimming with desire and an impossible joy that Artie couldn’t believe was so deeply shared.

::Believe it.::

There was no hurry after that. They fell onto the divan in a tangle of elbows and knees that happily sorted themselves out so that kisses were easy and the exploration of their bodies was languid. Artie’s breathing grew more and more shallow as Nikki tugged gently at her nipples while her kisses explored the line of Artie’s jaw and throat.

All at once Artie was there, right at the edge of orgasm. She pushed Nikki’s hand down and reveled in the sound of Nikki’s low, pleased, knowing laugh.

“Yes?”

“Yes — don’t worry. We’re just getting started.”

“I’m not worried about anything,” Nikki murmured. “Except that this feels good.”

The muscles along the backs of Artie’s legs went limp. Nikki’s fingertips slid between their bodies in a perfect balance of teasing and intention. Artie felt swollen and heavy until the moment Nikki’s hand slid between her legs.

Nikki growled, or near enough that they both laughed again, and then Nikki was inside her and they were moving hard, fast, sure. Artie’s whimper of delight found harmony with Nikki’s moan of satisfaction.

She strained and dissolved, all at once. Images rinsed over her mind with the force of a waterfall — they might have been memories, but they weren’t places she’d even been. A limitless golden prairie, a dark river at flood stage, the clang of steel against steel, snow like crystal powder on evergreen boughs.

Nikki’s voice, far away, urged her to let everything go, and it twined with rising, chanting voices of women ululating in song, high, pure, fearless, triumphant. She tightened around Nikki’s fingers, became the river, saw only Nikki’s fierce, burning eyes as her mind sparkled with flashes of molten gold. Then everything fell away to the voices again, from many voices to two, hers and Nikki’s.

Magic made.

::Promise sealed.::

The thudding of her heart was a deep, bass drum as she melted into Nikki’s arms. There didn’t seem to be any need for words as they moved to the bedroom.

They rolled into another long spiral of arousal, naked finally. Spread across the bed, Artie’s knees between Nikki’s, their fingers wandered and found all the ways to tease as they kissed. When Artie brushed her mouth over Nikki’s throat, Nikki’s broken moan of surrender lit a fiery need in Artie’s body. She wanted to feel Nikki on her hands, against her mouth.

“Have me,” Nikki whispered. “Right now.”

“This is okay?” Artie’s fingertips teased along the crease of Nikki’s thigh. “I want to touch you.”

“I’m all yours.” Nikki bit back a gasp as Artie pushed her onto her back. “I won’t break.”

Her hand was behind Artie’s neck, a shift in the power that seemed to be flowing between them. Yes, she was saying yes to Nikki’s hands. Yes to anything that Nikki wanted. Loving women always felt like one of the reasons she was alive. The sensation of Nikki’s strong thighs against her shoulders reached deeper even than that. Sex was not enough. There was reverence as well. The taste of Nikki on her tongue was part of a sacred rite.

A bolt of sharp pleasure cleared her mind and then it was pure, physical delight, on her lips, her chin, her nose, oh yes, the very tip of her tongue. She dove deeply as Nikki became frantic, her hand now on the back of Artie’s head. She felt the tide of Nikki’s climax against her mouth and stayed like that until Nikki’s hand finally released her.

The long silence broken only by Nikki’s ragged gasps was quite satisfying. She shifted to put her head on Nikki’s chest. Nikki hummed something, and the resonance soothed Artie into sleep.