“WHO IS FATHER talking to?” Nüwa Zhou stared out of the sliding door at the woman standing on the terrace, her short auburn hair a mass of curls that brushed the tops of her broad shoulders. Her stance was confident. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt tight enough it drew Nüwa’s attention, she rested her hands on her hips across from Gerald Zhou. Her wide shoulders and sculpted arms tested the limits of the fabric of her shirt. Afforded the opportunity to stare openly, Nüwa savored the view, admiring the curves the woman’s loose jeans failed to conceal. Slightly taller than Nüwa’s father in her thick-soled work boots, the woman glanced back at the house. Nüwa held steady, confident the reflective window coating would hide her gawking.
“Former student. Inquiring about the cottage,” her mother called from the kitchen bar.
Nüwa tugged the belt of her robe tighter. “Early for a meeting.”
The not-so-subtle sound of her mother’s scoff drifted across the kitchen. Nüwa rested her chin on her chest. The unspoken scolding for sleeping late pricked Nüwa’s heart. A night owl born to a family of larks. Her sleep patterns had been her curse since childhood.
She lifted her gaze back to the scene outside.
Gerald Zhou stood close to the woman, occasionally gesturing to the yard and the firethorn maze covering the lower half of their estate. Wind pushed dark heavy clouds across the sky and a gust rattled the sliding door in its dull aluminum frame. He turned and pointed to the house. Nüwa stepped back and away from the glass into the shadows of the living room. She walked to the counter dividing the kitchen from the rest of the house.
“Have you eaten?” Her mother glanced up from her laptop screen.
Nüwa took a breath and blew it out. “Not hungry.”
A frown creased her mother’s sculpted eyebrows. “Don’t forget to eat.” Her gaze shifted to the window. “Your father needs to wrap it up. I don’t like the color of the sky.”
Nüwa perched on one of the stools at the counter and glanced at the sky. A green hue tinged the dark clouds. “It’s ugly.”
Fat drops of rain hit the glass as the peal of a weather warning spit out of her mother’s ever-present phone. Nüwa’s stomach twisted as adrenaline surged in her body. Storms were the worst. Lightning flashed. Nüwa placed her hands flat on the counter and started counting silently.
“Four. Not far away.”
The click of the computer keys increased. “I need to get these figures to Rowan.” Her mother continued to pound the keyboard as another flash of lightning lit up the kitchen with a sick yellow glare.
The skin on Nüwa’s arms prickled. The grate of the sliding door in its tracks sounded in the room a second before a crash of thunder rattled the house.
“Three.” Nüwa turned to the sliding door. “It’s moving toward us.”
“It’s crazy out there. Wait it out with us.” Gerald touched the arm of the woman from the terrace. “You remember my wife, Lian Tan? I don’t think you’ve met my daughter. Nüwa, this is Julia.”
“Hi Ms. Tan, nice to see you again. Nice to meet you, Nüwa.” Julia inclined her head to greet Nüwa’s mother before she turned and met Nüwa’s gaze.
Nüwa stared at Julia, the thin wet fabric of the T-shirt even more distracting now Julia was standing in front of her. “You’re wet.” Her face burned as soon as the words were out of her mouth. “I mean—” She scrambled around the end of the counter, snatched a clean dish towel from the basket next to the sink. “Here.” Nüwa held the towel out with both hands.
The tips of Julia’s fingers brushed the back of Nüwa’s hand as she took the towel from her. “Thank you.” She held Nüwa’s gaze for a moment, the hint of a smile twisting her lips before she dried her face.
Nüwa studied the tops of her house shoes and knotted her hands together as an awkward silence sucked the ease out of the moment. She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself, knowing she was acting weird, helpless to stop it.
The faint sound of a tornado siren spared Nüwa further torment.
“Basement.” Lian stood, tucked her laptop and a thick folder under her arm, before she walked to the end of the counter. She pressed the series of buttons under the countertop. The end of the cabinet slid aside revealing a stairwell. Gerald followed Lian.
Nüwa slid off the stool and followed her parents down the stairs leading to the storm cellar. She ducked her head as she entered the stairway. “Watch your head,” Nüwa called over her shoulder.
Heavy tread on the stairs behind her and the faint scent of lavender and sunscreen tickled Nüwa’s nose as Julia followed her to the safe room. Halfway down the steps, the lights flickered out, plunging the stairwell and room below into blackness.
“Damn it. Gerald, where did you put the lantern?”
“Use your phone.”
“Left it on the counter, and didn’t we talk about this? Use your phone.”
Her parents shifted their bickering to Mandarin. Nüwa prayed Julia didn’t understand as they devolved into one of their ongoing arguments.
Nüwa extended her hand behind her, and her fingers bushed the soft denim of Julia’s jeans. “Take my hand. Stay close. The stairs turn here.”
Julia clasped her hand. Her broad callused palm rested against Nüwa’s hand. Nüwa led Julia down the stairs and toward the sound of her parents arguing. As they reached the bottom of the stairs the harsh light of an electric lantern flared to life, throwing twisted shadows over the walls.
Gerald closed off the door leading to the rest of the basement, sealing them in the long narrow windowless room. “There. Nüwa, lock the door behind you.”
Nüwa threw the deadbolt and sealed the door leading up to the kitchen.
Lian stood at the far end of the room, the glower on her face matching the ferocity of the storm. Arms crossed, she lifted her chin as she observed Nüwa and Julia. Her gaze landed squarely on their clasped hands.
Julia squeezed Nüwa’s hand once, then released it. “Thank you.”
Lian turned away from Nüwa, picked up a yellow wireless radio, and shoved it into Gerald’s hands. “Get the weather radio working.”
The echo of hail pelting the house increased in volume and drowned out Gerald’s reply. A roaring sound filled Nüwa’s ears, a steady hum. The hairs on her arm stood on end. Pressure in her ears increased to the point of pain and she swallowed, trying to clear them.
The ceiling over their head creaked and groaned as the vibration intensified. The house shook, rattling the shelves holding the food and water they kept stored in the small room. Nüwa wrapped her arms around herself to stop her trembling. Cans of food vibrated off the shelves and crashed to the floor, wrenching a cry from her, and she covered her eyes.
A warm hand settled on the middle of her back. Nüwa jerked away from the touch and bit down on her lip to stifle her yelp. The roaring increased, as if a train was bearing down on them. Nüwa dropped to her knees, covered her head with her arms, and folded herself into the smallest ball possible. The thin carpet over the concrete did nothing to ease her knees and sharp pain lanced through her. Her breathing was rough in her ears as her fear turned in on itself and drove every other thought from her mind. In the space of seconds, the patter of the hail softened, and the roaring stopped, leaving a heavy silence behind.
“GET AWAY FROM her. Nüwa, get up.” Lian’s voice whipped across the tornado shelter.
Julia held up both hands and backed away from Nüwa.
“Lian. Stop.” Gerald crossed the room and kneeled next to Nüwa. He bent down close to Nüwa. Julia could not make out the words he whispered to her. The rain started again, an incessant drum over their heads. Nüwa lifted her head, uncurled from her position, and sat back on her heels.
Julia clenched and unclenched her hands as she studied Nüwa’s face, devoid of emotion, eyes dull in the aftermath of her reaction to the storm. Gerald continued speaking to her in soothing tones.
Nüwa glanced up at Julia, her gaze rife with pain. “Sorry.”
Julia kneeled next to Gerald. “For what? That was scary as hell.”
Nüwa shifted her gaze from Julia’s face and knotted her hands together. Gerald stood and crossed the room. Julia glanced at Lian who made eye contact with her. The fine hairs on the back of Julia’s neck stood on end as Lian glared at her. Julia met her gaze, consciously softening her expression, unwilling to respond to Lian’s hostile energy.
After a moment, Lian turned away and busied herself with the bright-yellow radio. Static and crackles spit out from the speaker. Every family had its secrets and stumbling into this family’s raw issues rubbed against Julia like cheap sandpaper. Gerald had been a major supporter in college, an advisor who saw Julia’s potential, the only one who understood her need to follow a safe path and conventional employment rather than serve her own desires.
And now she was trapped inside this moment in his private life. The awkwardness was setting in, as the reality of the situation engulfed all of them. The narrow room held a small table with three chairs, three cots, and was lined with shelves filled with plastic tubs of various sizes. Five-gallon containers of water lined the opposite wall of the room. Julia estimated the shelter ran the full length of the large home. A door at the far end of the room stood open, revealing a sink and toilet.
Julia started when Nüwa rested her fingertips on her forearm. “Ignore her.” She stood next to Julia, close enough Julia had to look up to meet her gaze. “Come.” Nüwa moved to one of the cots. After smoothing her bathrobe under her, she sat and patted the mattress. “Sit with me. What kind of work do you do?”
Julia kept her expression smooth as she assessed the whiplash shift in Nüwa’s behavior. Her calm voice was a stark contrast to the fear and resignation reflected in her eyes as she attempted to distract Julia from previous events and make small talk.
“What?” Julia sat next to Nüwa on the cot, happy to ignore whatever had just transpired between Nüwa and her mother. Observing the scene had left her feeling like a cheap voyeur.
Nüwa shifted her position on the cot and her knee bumped against Julia. “Work. Your business?” She gestured to the screen printing on the left side of her shirt opposite Julia’s name. “What is ‘Sticks and Stones’?
“I’m a stone mason. My brother Jason’s a landscape architect. We have a business together. We do hardscape, landscaping, repairs.” Julia watched Nüwa’s expression, waiting for the usual questions and disbelief about her career. She shifted her gaze to Nüwa’s parents. They were huddled together, the harsh tones of their conversation filtering toward them.
“What do you like best about it?” Nüwa’s voice was thready.
A loud crack of thunder shook the house. A small yip escaped Nüwa. Julia lifted her hand to comfort her, then let it fall, not wanting to increase Nüwa’s stress. The roar of the rain increased.
“You okay?” Julia closed her eyes the second after the words were out of her mouth. “I’m sorry for my Captain Obvious moment. What can I do to help?”
Nüwa laughed, a short sad laugh. “Not much. Just talk to me. About anything. Distract me, it helps. And thank you.”
“Creating something out of nothing.”
“What?” Nüwa frowned.
“You asked what I liked best about being a stone mason.”
“How do you know my father?”
“He was my advisor. I think I took every class he offered.”
“You were a studio art major.” Nüwa frowned at Julia. “And now you work as a mason?”
“Everyone in my family is a mason or married to one. My little brother is the wild card but even he knows how to lay bricks.” Julia glanced at Gerald, then brought her gaze back to Nüwa. “Your dad got it when I didn’t want to go to graduate school.”
“What about your art? Does building things fill your creative well? Does it satisfy you?” Nüwa twisted the edge of her robe in her hands.
“I still sculpt.” A thrill rose in Julia’s chest, and she pulled a folded paper from her back pocket. “I’m entering this.” She opened the damp creased paper carefully and spread it out on the mattress. “It’s why I want to rent the guest house, the ad said there was garage space included.”
“Yes, it’s bigger than the house. The woman who owned our home before us had a driver who lived above the garage.”
Nüwa shivered, her nipples tenting the fabric of her robe. Julia flushed and looked away. She shifted on the cot and stood. “Can I get you a blanket, or something?”
Nüwa rose next to her and pulled her robe tighter. “In the bins.” She lifted her chin to indicate a row of large dark plastic-covered tubs on a rack of shelves.
Julia scanned the tubs. “Let me guess. The one marked ‘blankets, hand warmers, hats, and gloves?’”
Nüwa graced Julia with another laugh. This time it was rich and genuine. “You really are Captain Obvious. But I doubt you could reach it.”
“I have long arms.”
Nüwa unfolded her lean frame from the cot and crossed the room. A solid head and shoulders taller than Julia, she pulled the tub from the upper shelf and placed it on the floor between them. She yanked the lid open. “Mother, do you need a blanket? Papa?”
“No, we are wearing clothes.” Lian crossed her arms over her chest. “Bloody stupid storms. I’m never going to get my bid in on time. I thought you were going to do something so we had Wi-Fi down here.”
Gerald stood and stretched his arms over his head. “I did. It’s probably out at the tower.”
Nüwa pulled a light-blue microfiber blanket from the bin and draped it over her shoulders.
Gerald touched Lian’s arm. “We’ll be fine without it.”
Lian shifted away from Gerald’s touch. She crossed the floor to Nüwa. “Are you hungry? You didn’t eat.” She pulled a smaller bin from a second shelf and ripped the lid open. “Eat.” She placed the bin of dried fruit and boxes of various meal replacement and energy bars on the floor next to the one with blankets and bedding.
Lian, equal in height to Nüwa, looked down at Julia. “You look like you appreciate food, see if you can get her to eat.” She turned and walked to the far end of the basement.
Julia shifted her gaze to Nüwa and whispered, “Your mom’s intense.”
Nüwa leaned closer. “You’ve heard of ‘tiger moms?’ Well, my mom’s a scorpion mom.”
Julia peered around Nüwa and watched as Lian paced the space. Her body radiated coiled anger and frustration. “That’s a thing?”
“No, I made it up, but it fits.” Mischief had replaced the haunted expression in Nüwa’s eyes. “When I really want to rile her up, I tell her I’m going to write a book about it.” She pulled an energy bar in a yellow and blue wrapper from the bin. “You want one?”
“Sure.” Julia took the offered bar.
Nüwa chose a bar for herself. “Papa, you hungry?”
Gerald patted his stomach. “Always. Do we still have the chocolate coconut?”
“Last one.” Nüwa carried the purple and white package to her father.
“Thank you.” Gerald lifted the package in a toast to Julia. “Have you had these? The best.”
“I’m more of an apricot and dark chocolate kind of woman. What did you choose, Nüwa?”
“Salted caramel. Sweet and savory.” Nüwa bit into her bar and chewed slowly.
Her deliberate movements and chewing should not have been beguiling, but it was. Julia forced herself to look away from Nüwa’s mouth. She took a bite of her chocolate-covered dried apricot and nut bar as she scanned the room.
Lian’s bone-thin frame was hunched over her computer as she typed furiously. With her phone in the truck and no clock on the wall Julia had no idea how long they had been in the basement, or what time it was, and in that moment, in the middle of the quirky family drama playing out around her, she had no desire to be anywhere else.
“DO YOU WANT to play?” Nüwa held out the deck of cards she had retrieved from a different bin.
“Sure.”
Nüwa lowered the blanket until it covered her lap. With her movements the lapels of her robe gaped dangerously when she leaned over and flashed the soft curve of her enticing cleavage.
Perched on the end of the cot opposite Nüwa, Julia forced her gaze away and studied the wall behind Nüwa’s head. “What do you want to play?”
“Rummy? Crazy eights? I can get another deck if you want to play Double Solitaire. We have chips if you want to play poker.” Nüwa rolled her sleeves back. She picked up the deck, then maneuvered the cards, shuffling them as expertly as a professional dealer. Her long-fingered hands were a blur as she skillfully fanned the cards out.
Julia eyed Nüwa’s shuffling skills. “Crazy eights? I can’t afford to play poker.”
Nüwa raised an eyebrow. “The safe path?”
“Always.”
Nüwa placed the deck on the bed between them. “Unusual for an artist.” She retrieved a pad of notepaper and a pen. She pointed the pen at Julia. “Want to cut for deal? Or would you like to deal first?”
“Cut.” Julia lifted the first third of the deck and turned it over. “Two.”
Nüwa lifted the rest of the pile and turned it over. “Ace.”
Julia passed her the rest of the cards. Nüwa picked up the deck and shuffled them even more elaborately.
“You deal in Vegas?”
Nüwa smiled as she dealt the cards. “Lots of time backstage.” She leaned closer, glanced once at her mother, and whispered, “My first real girlfriend worked as a dealer at a casino.”
With her confession, she had confirmed what Julia had sensed from the easy way Nüwa had taken her hand in the stairwell.
“I’m glad we’re not playing for money.” Julia picked up her hand. She watched Nüwa over the top of her cards. Her hands were graceful as she sorted her cards. Lian’s observation about Nüwa not eating was supported by the hollows under her broad cheekbones and sinewy forearms.
Nüwa shifted on the bed and drew her long legs under her before she lifted her gaze to Julia. She turned the top card and placed the nine of hearts face up between them. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“Nope.” Julia placed a ten of hearts on top of the card. “Your dad told everyone you were a concert pianist.”
“I meant the girlfriend part.” Nüwa played a five of hearts. “The other is ancient history. Do you have a partner? Is there someone who will be worried you’re out in this?”
Julia winced. “No.” She played a three of hearts.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” Nüwa laid a queen of hearts on top of the pile.
“It’s fine. It’s been years. What about you? Do you still perform?” Unable to match the card, Julia took cards from the draw pile until she pulled a seven of diamonds.
Nüwa rested her chin on her chest and played a seven of hearts. “No.”
“What do you do now?” Julia added a two of hearts to the pile.
Nüwa laid the two of clubs on top. “I’m out.”
“You don’t perform any more at all?”
“Of cards.” Nüwa lifted the pad of paper. “And no. I don’t play in public. What do you have left?”
Julia laid her cards on the table to count them. “Jack of diamonds and queen of clubs, six of diamonds, four of clubs.”
Nüwa noted the score before she gathered the cards and passed them to Julia. “Your deal.”
“You don’t play winner deals?”
Nüwa tilted her head toward her mother. “No. Family rules after my cousins and I got into a brawl over whose turn it was to deal at an Easter dinner.”
Julia laughed. “My twin sister and I once got into a fist fight with my older sister and little brother during an egg hunt. The next year my mom switched to plastic eggs, and we all had our own color to find.”
“It must have been fun growing up with all those siblings.” Nüwa’s voice took on a wistful tone.
“It was. Still is. Most of the time. Are you an only child?” Julia finished shuffling and then dealt the cards.
“I am now.” Nüwa lifted her cards and studied them.
“I’m sorry.” Julia turned over the top card and laid the six of clubs between them.
“So am I.” Nüwa placed a queen of clubs on top of the six. “It was, as you said, a long time ago.”
“Doesn’t make it easier. We lost my twin sister in Afghanistan. It’s been ten years now.” Julia swallowed the dry ache that always rose when she talked of Jordyn.
Nüwa lifted her gaze. “Twenty-five years for us, and it’s still raw at times.”
Julia frowned. “You were in high school?” She played a two of clubs.
“College. I’m older than I look.” Nüwa shook her short ebony bob back and played a queen of clubs.
“You’re forty?” Julia placed a three of clubs on the pile.
“Forty-two in six months.” Nüwa’s gaze settled on Julia’s face. “You’re what? Late twenties? Early thirties?”
“Thirty-one next week.”
The rain increased, the drumming growing louder followed by a crash of thunder. The house rattled around them.
Nüwa started and the cards slid across the cot. “Fuck.”
The curse came out a like a pistol shot. Lian’s head snapped up from her laptop and she glared at Nüwa and Julia.
“Don’t worry about it.” Julia gathered up the cards.
“Papa, when is this supposed to end?” Nüwa gathered the blanket tighter around her shoulders.
“Last report from the weather radio, tornado warning is until two. Thunderstorm warning goes until four.”
“What time is it now?”
“Eleven.”
Nüwa closed her eyes, and a soft groan rattled her chest.
Julia studied Nüwa’s face. The strain of the storm showed in the tense line of her jaw and set of her shoulders. Nüwa opened her eyes. Their gazes locked. Julia stared into Nüwa’s eyes, captured by the pain and fire she saw lurking in their depths.
Nüwa rested her hand on Julia’s forearm. “Sorry. I’m not usually this much of a mess.”
A scoffing sound from Lian let Julia know even if she pretended not to be eavesdropping on their conversation, she was aware of every word exchanged.
“Storms are hard for lots of people.”
“You’re very kind.” Nüwa squeezed Julia’s arm. She left her hand resting there, her palm warm on Julia’s skin in the cool of the basement. Her eyes, so dark brown they appeared black, settled on Julia. The appreciation reflected in her gaze heated Julia’s face. Julia flushed. Her face burned with Nüwa’s praise, or her touch, who could say?
NÜWA STUDIED JULIA’S expression as she shuffled the cards. Her eyes were focused on her hands, her face a mask of concentration. Her cheeks were freckled as was the rest of her visible skin, her keen eyes light brown. Her hands were large for her size, the fingers thick, a match for the ropey muscles in her forearms, a testimony to the nature of her work. A ragged starburst scar covered most of the back of her left hand, the skin shiny in the basement fluorescent lights. Braided leather bracelets, worn and scuffed, circled both of her wrists.
Nüwa could only imagine how long the faded bracelets had graced her arms, or who had placed them there. A flutter of excitement stirred in her belly. Awkward and yet titillating at the same time, memories of other moments, time spent flirting in the midst of a crowd bubbled up. Inappropriate. Nüwa scrubbed both hands over her face and shoved thoughts of seducing Julia out of her mind.
Julia dealt their hands and placed the deck between them. She flipped the top card, an ace of diamonds, and placed it next to the draw pile.
Nüwa picked up her cards. The drumming of the rain was softer but present. The bizarre nature of being stuck in a storm cellar with a stranger wasn’t as stressful as she anticipated when her father appeared with Julia at his side. Of course, it was the right thing to do, but she knew he’d have to listen to her mother chide him for even setting up the rental viewing without checking the weather. Unable to match the suit, she played an eight of clubs on the pile. “Hearts.”
“Dang it.” Julia drew from the draw pile. After her tenth card she played the four of hearts. “I thought I’d never find an eight or a heart.”
Nüwa played a two of hearts. “I’ve a fistful.”
Julia played a two of clubs. “Lucky me.”
Unable to match suit or number, Nüwa pulled an eight as her first card from the draw pile. She did nothing to hide her smirk as played it. “Lucky me. Hearts.”
Julia groaned and began pulling cards from the pile. After six cards she turned a jack of hearts. “Finally.”
Nüwa played the queen of hearts. She savored their banter, interspersed with comfortable silences as they played. She marveled at her ease with Julia, attributing it to the forced intimacy of their situation. Like seat mates on a long-distance flight, a magical moment that would evaporate as soon as they left the cellar. Nüwa settled into it, emboldened by the limit nature had placed on their encounter.
Julia scanned her hand for a card to play before she drew more, searching for a match. She turned the nine of hearts and played it. She needed both hands to hold her cards now.
Nüwa laid her final card down. “I’m out.”
Julia fanned her cards on the bed. “I’m going to need a calculator to figure this out. I think I have half the deck here. You are spanking me thoroughly.”
“One more hand?”
“I’m like four hundred points behind in a five-hundred-point game. I don’t see the point.” Julia leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees.
“Lucky at love, unlucky at cards?” Nüwa placed her hand on Julia’s arm and stroked her fingers over the worn leather.
“Certainly not lucky at cards.” Julia folded her cards into a tidy pile as she met Nüwa’s gaze. “The other remains to be seen.”
“Would you like to play something else?” Nüwa slipped a finger under the edge of the worn leather and tugged gently, leaning into her flirt, remembering a time when she would have spent an evening enticing a woman to accompany her to her hotel room for a night of sexual play.
“Yes.” Julia leaned close and brought her lips near to Nüwa’s ear. “But we’re not alone.”
If she turned her head, her mouth would connect with Julia’s, and she could find out if her lips were as plush as they looked.
Given her freedom, she would push Julia down on the narrow cot and touch every inch of her powerfully built curvy body. Julia would look exquisite bound and at Nüwa’s mercy. A mental flash of the scene rattled Nüwa. It had been years since she had even a glimmer of attraction to anyone. And now, here in her parents’ tricked-out storm cellar, she found herself enchanted with a woman who would most likely run from her and her dysfunctional family as soon as the storm was over. But until then Nüwa was going to savor the sensation of Julia’s interest and the building attraction between them.
JULIA CLOSED HER eyes and savored Nüwa’s touch. Nüwa traced the edge of her bracelets, her delicate fingertips leaving an electric trail of heat that traveled first to Julia’s belly, then lower. Julia clamped her teeth over her lower lip and inhaled sharply.
“Do these come off?” Nüwa slipped a finger under the edge of the bracelet and tugged lightly.
“No. Not unless they’re cut off.” Julia leaned forward, straining to hear Nüwa’s whisper.
“How long have you worn them?” Nüwa clasped Julia’s wrist and turned her arm over. She cuffed Julia’s wrist with her hand and with the other she stroked her fingertips over the tender skin on the inside of her arm, drawing tight circles.
“Since I was twenty-two.”
“You didn’t answer when I asked you before about a partner. Were you lying?” Nüwa’s grip tightened, forcing the weave of the leather into Julia’s skin.
“No. I wouldn’t lie about her. It was complicated. I was young. She told me up front it wouldn’t be forever.”
“And you didn’t believe her?” Nüwa’s velvet tones seeped under Julia’s skin. “You still consider yourself hers?”
Julia squeezed her eyes shut, unwilling to show her pain to Nüwa. “Yes.”
Nüwa released her arm. Julia’s body betrayed her as a shudder ran though her. The reality of their situation settled over her shoulders like a heavy blanket.
Nüwa’s touch had been everything and nothing, a stark reminder of Julia’s past. A memory of Dominique. She had trained Julia, taught her how to tap into her needs and desires in order to become the perfect submissive lover. Dominique. A cruel Mistress, she neglected to tell Julia she regularly pimped out her lovers to support her lifestyle. All it took was one refusal and Julia found herself shut off from her. Julia swallowed on a dry throat, reliving memories of Dominique dismissing her with nothing but her bracelets to remind her the experience had been real and not a fever dream. The bed shifted and swayed, throwing Julia off balance. She caught herself on her palms and opened her eyes.
“Excuse me.” Nüwa drew the belt of her robe through her fingers as she studied Julia.
A broad stroke of desire trailed its way up from her belly, tightened Julia’s chest. “Of course.”
Nüwa walked to the far end of the basement to the washroom, entered, and closed the door behind her.
Julia scrubbed her hands over her face in a vain attempt to stop the whirlwind of feelings raging in her chest. Why hadn’t she clipped her bracelets off? Or asked another to do it? Could she explain to any lover what it would mean? How to tell anyone who was not in the life that until she truly belonged to another Mistress, she would wear Dominique’s bracelets if for no other reason than to remind herself of who she was, to remain confident enough in her own sexuality, to continue to seek someone who would understand, who would want to place their own signs of care on her and have her for their own.
Someone who would cherish and treasure her and be equal in their devotion. Ten years past, she doubted it would ever occur. The women she met through the Hit Me Up app were often casual kinksters, women who liked to play on the weekends or evenings, and never anyone who wanted to engage in a total power exchange.
Julia lifted her shoulders and let them fall. Pushed her dark memories away. Nüwa was on the far side of the shelter talking with Gerald. Julia imagined their conversation and mentally rehearsed her speech for when they told her the guest house was no longer available to rent. Nüwa’s abrupt departure convinced her she had shared too much, too soon. Julia picked at the blanket. A faint trace of Nüwa’s perfume lingered.
A shadow fell over the bed. Julia looked up and into Nüwa’s face.
“When do you think you will move in?”
Julia frowned. “What? I haven’t even talked with your father about the rent. I don’t know if I can afford it.”
Nüwa leaned over Julia and rested her hand on her shoulder. “You need to have more confidence. Haggle, my father loves a good haggle.”
Julia shifted her gaze to Lian. “Your mother looks at me like she hates me.”
“She looks like that anytime her plans are disrupted. Don’t take it personally. She’s very protective of me.”
Julia studied Nüwa’s face. “You look like you could take care of yourself.”
Nüwa pulled her hand from Julia’s shoulder and straightened to her full height. “Not everything is as it appears.” She leaned down and tapped Julia’s bracelet as she pinned her in place with her gaze. “Is it?”