Layke had never been one to take vacation time, time off, a break from the daily grind, whatever people called it. It was one of the things that she and Dustin had in common, why they had lasted as long as they had. Like her, he found it difficult to tear himself away from the job. But unlike her, the thought of spending longer than a few days away, as a couple, had been the driving force behind her reluctance to take a vacation.
“Sergeant, do you have a second?” she said when her boss walked into the room. She'd just spent the last half an hour at her desk working up the courage to ask. It wasn't that the request was too big, just that her eagerness to go, she feared, would culminate in her boss seeing right through her and knowing her intent. When a person set out to do something they shouldn't, it often showed on their face. Over the years she'd come to realize that, which made it easier to identify felons.
“What is it, Owen?” He sounded tired.
“So, I've got some vacation time available, right?”
“Yes, as does everyone...”
“Right. Do you think I could maybe get a few days off next week?”
“How much is a few?”
“Four or five.”
Her boss's grin was lewd, suggestive. “Dirty trip away with the fiance planned, huh?”
She cleared her throat. “Something like that.”
“Well, it's pretty quiet around here. Put the request form on my desk by the end of the day and I'll sign it off.” He was gone before she could thank him.
When she returned to her desk, Velazquez had a similarly lewd grin on her face. “Wow, Layke, you're taking time off? Must be a really dirty trip.” She was swiveling on her chair like a kid, a far cry from looking like the detective she was.
“Didn't your mother ever tell you not to eavesdrop?” Layke said, settling back in her seat.
“The only thing that woman ever taught me was how to put on makeup without looking like I work at a circus! Besides, I'm a cop, I'm allowed to eavesdrop.”
Layke laughed. “You would actually make a good clown.”
Velazquez chuckled. “So, where are you going? Where's Mr Advertising taking you?” That was Velazquez's name for Dustin, because in the past she'd been notorious for getting his name wrong, calling him everything from Justin to Derek. This way she never got it wrong, though Dustin didn't much care for his new moniker.
“I don't know yet,” Layke said. She hadn't spoken to Willa in days, didn't even know if the plan was still on, and didn't know where she was hiding out.
“What if it's Venice?” Velazquez's eyes lit up with animation, suddenly dreamy. “Man, can you imagine that? Four nights in Venice with the man of your dreams.”
“I've been to Venice; it smells like a sewer.” She made a face.
“Yeah, but it's Venice. The city of romance and gondolas. So it smells a bit stale, it beats being locked inside behind a desk, doing busy work.”
Layke doubted Willa had jetted off to Venice, and doubted even more that she expected her to join her there. Not unless Willa was footing the bill for an impromptu trip to Italy. They hadn't reached that point in their relationship; heck, they hadn't reached the point that they were even in a relationship.
So what exactly were they? Layke had asked herself that a dozen times, and hadn't come any closer to figuring it out. They'd crossed the line of being mere lovers, that much she was certain of. You didn't lie in bed with someone, knowing you were putting your lives in danger by being together, if you were simply lovers. Nor did you plan a clandestine vacation at an undisclosed location in order to be alone together. A friend in college, a girl who went through boyfriends like she went through underwear, once told her that living with someone for a few days, just the two of you, was a great way to ascertain if they were right for you. Was that what this trip was about? Because Layke didn't need to leave the city to know the answer to that. Of course Willa wasn't right for her. In fact, Willa may have been as wrong a suitor as any person could be for her. On paper. In practice, Layke had never felt more comfortable with another person than she did with her.
“If you're with the right person, it doesn't matter where you go,” she said finally, unaware of the tiny smile that had settled on her lips.
“What a dump!” Willa peered around at the dingy furniture of her double room in the Sleep Treat Motel. The matching drapes and carpet were dull and gray, and the bedsheets were so far off-white they might as well have been gray, too. There was an armchair in the corner, so tattered it looked as though a couple of cats had been scratching at it. She'd driven for three hours and finally spotted somewhere where she could rest, where no one would think to look for her. Somewhere that took cash payment and didn't ask questions.
The room attendant, a mousy woman in a homemade cardigan, handed her the key, and didn't seem too aggrieved by the remark about her place of work. “It isn't much to look at, I know. But it won't break the bank. Enjoy your stay.”
Willa plonked her suitcase down by the bed. She wanted to sit down, but not on those sheets. She checked out the bathroom, twisted the taps on, then switched on the shower; everything was in working order.
“That's something, I guess,” she said dully.
Five minutes later, she was back in her car, going on the hunt for a supermarket close by. And an hour later, she had returned to her room with brand new sheets and food for the dinky refrigerator, which made a constant purring noise. She stripped the bed, her wounded arm aching a little, and put on the new bedding, stashing the old ones under the bed. Now she could rest.
The buzzing, vibrating of her cell phone on the bedside table woke her the following morning. Disoriented from sleep, she reached blindly to answer it, without looking at the screen.
“What?” she croaked, eyes still closed.
“Did I wake you?” There was evident amusement in Guy's voice when he spoke.
“What do you think?”
“I'm outside your apartment. Where are you? I've been ringing the buzzer for two minutes.”
“I'm out of town.”
“Okay, where?”
“Out of town.”
There was a brief silence before Guy continued, “You haven't been kidnapped or anything, have you?”
“Guy, I'm fine,” she said impatiently. “I just needed to get away. I'll be back in a week. Were you calling for anything in particular, because I'd really like to get back to sleep?”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, actually. Everything ran smoothly last night.”
It took a moment for it to register, for her to realize he was referring to the sale of the container to the Armenians.
“So we're finally free of that burden? Wow.” It sort of felt anticlimactic to her. For months they'd been trying to get rid of the guns, and for months they'd come up trumps. Now that it was over, however, it didn't feel nearly as good as she thought it would. This she attributed to her discontent over selling to – settling for – the Armenians. They wouldn't have been her first, or last, choice of buyer; but now it was over.
“Trent's been strutting around like the sun shines out of his ass, just because he pulled this off,” Guy continued.
“Trent's been walking around like that since we were kids. Nothing's changed.”
“He wants me to put pressure on you to make a move against... our little Italian friend.”
“I'll move when I want to, not when Trent decides. You tell our barbaric brother that from me.”
Once the call had ended, Willa found she couldn't get back to sleep, and cursed Guy for disturbing her. Since being passed the title, her nights had been less than peaceful – restless – resulting in days plagued with fatigue. Coffee had become her best friend. Thus, whenever she could get the sleep, she welcomed it.
Nevertheless, she remained in bed, watching bad TV and eating yoghurt and potato chips. Her trainer would have a lot of work to do when she returned to Miami. She did that for three days, fully aware that she was stalling. The TV, the lonely walks around town window shopping, the short drives down to the river... None of this gave her the joy she craved. It was all a placeholder for the one thing she really wanted to do, the one thing she was most afraid of.
She stared at the digits of Layke's number for the seventh time since arriving at the motel, her hand shaking slightly, tellingly. Pressing the call button presented no physical challenge; but mentally, she might as well have been trying to perform telekinesis.
A phone call. A stupid phone call to someone who was expecting, perhaps even looking forward to, her call. A phone call that she knew would change her life forever. Was she ready for that yet? Was Layke? Putting off the call hadn't been her intention, in the beginning. Now that she was here, however, she was afraid. Anxious. Her nerves made her heart thud louder, more aggressively than usual. This was all new to her, spending real time alone with a woman. Away from her family and Layke's job, away from anything that reminded them of the risks they were taking. For three days her nerves got the better of her. And then, finally, tedium took over...
Layke pulled into the parking lot of the Sleep Treat Motel and cut the engine, sighing with relief for managing to find the place. What should have been a three-hour drive had taken five. She should have factored in her inability to read road maps into the estimated drive time. She'd been meaning to get a GPS but had become overwhelmed by the choices.
It took only a few seconds for her relief to vanish and hesitancy to kick in, when she peeked out and observed the little establishment. It had a dated, foreboding, Bates Motel look to it, like an establishing shot for a horror movie. Not exactly the type of place that good romantic retreats were made of. Did she have the right address? Silently she hoped she'd gotten it wrong, that there was a luxury five-star hotel hidden behind this hovel. But she spotted the blue convertible and knew she was in the right place.
She grabbed her holdall from the trunk, locked up then headed up the rickety staircase to the second floor. The five beside the three on the door was hanging on its side. She knocked tentatively and waited. She opened her mouth to say hello when Willa appeared, but was pulled into a kiss that made her drop her bag. The embrace lasted several wonderful seconds, until they both had to come up for air. A cheeky smirk played on Willa's lips.
“What was that for?” Layke asked, still breathless from the unexpected kiss.
“Hello's so commonplace. I thought it would make a nice change.”
Layke smiled coyly. “It did.” She grabbed her bag and made her way inside. The inside, she was disappointed to see, was no better than the outside. “So, this is where you're staying?” She tried to sound positive, but it was hard to put a positive spin on a crummy, dilapidated motel room, where she would be spending the next few days.
Willa laughed, taking her in her arms. “It's awful, isn't it?”
“Yes!” Layke chuckled. “Why here?”
“Would you think to look for me here?”
“I wouldn't think to look for anyone here. Maybe rats, cockroaches...”
Willa kissed her. “No one will disturb us here. Plus, they don't need I.D., and they don't use CCTV. It will be like we were never here.”
“Smart,” Layke conceded.
“See, I'm not just a pretty face.”
No, she was more than a pretty face, she was, quite frankly, a beautiful one. Even now, standing in her arms, Layke couldn't believe this was all real. And what did she, Layke, have that the thousands of beautiful women across Miami didn't? Willa was surrounded by attractive women all the time, many of whom worked in her club, and many of whom knew a lot more about pleasing her than Layke did.
“Why me?” The question was supposed to be an extension of her inner thoughts, but before she knew it the words had escaped her lips, and Willa was looking at her as if she were crazy.
“Why you what?” She still had her hands on Layke's waist, and didn't seem to want to let go.
“We're so wrong for each other. Wouldn't it be easier for you to be with someone more... available?”
“You're here aren't you? I'd say you're pretty available.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Actually, I don't.”
Layke became flustered. “I mean someone with less baggage, less risk.”
“I don't want someone with less baggage or less risk.” Willa pecked her gently on the lips, their noses brushing. “I want Layke Owen, the sexy ginger detective with the adorable little freckles across her nose, and the fiery temper to match her hair. And do you know where I want her?” Willa took both her hands and led her to the bed, where she sat her down. “I want her right here, right now, with nothing on but me.”
When Layke breathed, it was rattly and full of nerves. The moment of truth had finally arrived. Well, it had arrived three times, but it was always the beginning that terrified her. Removing her clothes, which Willa helped her with, and did so gently, was the easy part; being naked in front of Willa came naturally. But it was her crippling insecurity about her lack of experience with women that made her tremble. Thus far she'd had it easy, lying back and letting Willa dominate her in every way. She'd done the same with her handful of boyfriends. Though with them she'd never felt compelled to put in the effort; with Willa, she wanted nothing more than to please her, to do all of the things she'd read about, to put all of the directions, the written and visual instructions, to the test. She'd watched porn for this! There was no way she would lie back and let Willa do all the work.
Suddenly she didn't care about the unsightly room. The aching between her legs could no longer be ignored. She helped Willa out of her clothes, taking her time so as not to hurt her arm. The stitches were healing nicely. And when Willa stood naked in front of her, it was the most delightful sight she'd ever seen. Her body against the backdrop of such an ugly room was incongruous. She brought her face forward, pressed light kisses to Willa's stomach as Willa stroked her head.
“I want to kiss you everywhere,” Layke whispered, and pulled her onto the bed. “Everywhere,” she reiterated.
Willa's eyes expanded in alarm, seeing the will in Layke's face. “Does that mean what I think it means?” The hint of amusement in her voice didn't go unnoticed by Layke.
“What sort of lover would I be if I didn't reciprocate?” She tried her hardest to sound confident and seductive, but she was so far out of her depth it made her cringe when she heard her own voice.
“You don't have to do that. I'm more than happy to take the lead.”
“I want to do it,” Layke said vehemently.
Willa laughed. “You know it's not like kissing on the lips, don't you?”
“Of course I do.” She looked away, abashed, cheeks rosy, and when she spoke again her voice was hushed. “I looked it up online a few times. There were diagrams and things...”
Willa's cackle rang through the room. Well, that wasn't the reaction Layke had been expecting; there was nothing sexy about being laughed at.
“You did your research online? What did you use, Wikipedia?” Willa howled.
“Don't laugh at me,” Layke said, her blush now reaching her neck and the top of her chest. With no clothes on to hide it, her shame was on full display.
“Oh, baby, I'm sorry.” Willa's laughter died away, mostly, though a smile and tears remained. “You're so adorable. I admire your determination.” She put her arms around Layke's naked body, kissed her face.
“I just want to be good at it,” Layke shrugged modestly. “I want to be good for you.”
“You want to know the trick to doing a good job? The desire. So you're already there. And it doesn't matter how many times you've done it, or haven't, it's still going to feel great because you're the one doing it to me.”
Skill was important, and Layke knew that. But she found herself believing Willa's words, even being soothed by them. They certainly took away some of the pressure.
“Just take your time. We've got lots of it,” Willa added, and they kissed.
The kiss was the type of heated, passionate kiss that usually preceded what they were working up to. And soon Layke's hands were exploring humps and mounds, her fingers teasing Willa's nipples in turn, before sinking into the folds between her crotch, becoming enveloped in the moisture of Willa's sex. The sensation wasn't novel to her; up until then, however, she'd only had her own sex as a reference. Feeling another woman's excitement, knowing that she had caused it, made her delirious.
She felt around blindly, getting acquainted with the area, sought out the small but powerful nub that she would soon devour, hopefully bringing her lover to climax. It felt different to her own, but not much. She knew what she liked; maybe Willa would respond to the same things.
Armed with that hope and faith, she drove Willa back against the pillow, still lip-locked with her. When she finally drew her lips away, leaving Willa's wet and bruised, she kissed a trail from her neck right down to her chest. She tossed her locks out of the way, before taking one big, juicy nipple in her mouth. Willa bucked slightly beneath her as her suction grew stronger, and again when Layke's tongue poked and stroked with the type of skill of a seasoned nipple-licker.
It felt great on her tongue, and she wasted no time moving on to the next one. Willa's soft moans and writhing body spurred her on, told her she was doing a good job. Gave her the courage she needed to up the stakes and head a little farther south. Dragging her mouth away from the teats was more difficult than she'd anticipated – she could have stayed playing with and teasing those mounds all afternoon. But there were more pressing matters to attend to.
She remained gentle in her touches, even to the last as she separated Willa's legs to better accommodate herself. She looked up one final time, caught Willa's eye, then dove in. Everything she'd learned, read about, and watched she incorporated into her routine. At least, she tried to. But she soon discovered that the theory was far different in practice. The texture was unusual to her at first contact; but she quickly got over that, owing mostly to the sweet-tasting sap. She'd never imagined that any part of the body could taste this good; so good that it felt more like she'd gone out for dessert as opposed to gone down on her lover. Within a couple of minutes she'd found her feet, letting her tongue loose, snaking across the valleys of Willa's sex, devouring her greedily.
“Ahh, yeah,” Willa moaned, bucking and writhing more fiercely.
Layke was on a roll. Her tongue became a spear, stabbing at the hard bean, then caressing it with gentle strokes, and alternating between the two acts. From the strangled murmurs and the flailing Willa was doing, Layke knew she was on to a winning combination.
“Oh, I'm there, I'm there,” Willa cried out, startling Layke.
“What, already?” Layke asked against her sex. Unfortunately, the vibration seemed to heighten the sensation, and before long she felt Willa tremble as the orgasm ripped through her.
Layke peered up at a spent Willa, her mouth shimmering with her lover's nectar. “I didn't want you to... get there so quickly,” she said, almost whining.
Willa laughed, the sex having made her voice croaky and winded. “Well maybe you should have thought about that before you attacked my vagina!”
“Did I do it wrong?” Layke questioned, real concern creasing her brow. She hadn't expected it to be over so soon; in fact, she hadn't expected to bring Willa to climax at all, not on her first try.
Willa laughed again and sat up, pulling Layke close. “No, you did everything right, too right actually. I'm usually good at holding on. Your tongue's like Wonder Woman's or something.” She kissed her. “Mmm, I taste pretty good, if I do say so myself.”
“Are you kidding? You taste great. I had an epiphany down there. I thought, now I know why people love doing this.” Not only was the taste great, being that close to a woman, being that in control of whether she came or didn't, made her feel formidable. It was also therapeutic (though she felt silly confessing that and kept it to herself).
“Spoken like a true lady-lover. You'll be a seasoned vet in no time.”
They made love more times that day than Layke and Dustin had in one year, and even after hours of going at it, even with joints, limbs and muscles aching and tired, Layke still couldn't get enough of her new lover. Her appetite for Willa left her no appetite for anything else, that included food, or leaving the comfort of the bed. Suddenly the room wasn't so ugly – it had a quaint, sort of homely feel and quality to it under the right light. The bed squeaked a bit, but listening to it go in time with them only increased their drive. Sleep Treats may have been the name of the motel, but no one in room 35 got much sleep that night.
“What's your favorite pastime?” Layke asked. The new day had crept in on them during their marathon sex session, though it was still very early in the morning. Neither of them had bothered to put their clothes back on. They sat facing each other, Layke's legs on either side of Willa's waist, Willa's hands gripping her thighs. They'd been asking each other random questions for ten minutes, shouting out whatever came to mind in a bid to learn more about each other.
“Making love to you,” Willa said. “Easy.”
Layke laughed. “Aside from that?”
“Traveling, I guess. You?”
“Being a cop.”
“That's your favorite thing?” Willa asked incredulously. “Layke Owen, you need to get out more.”
“Says the woman who thinks that sex with an inexperienced pseudo-lesbian slash semi-confused beginner is her favorite thing to do!”
“Hey, watch it.” Willa slid her forward, both of them giggling, and smashed her lips to Layke's. “Maybe inexperienced pseudo-lesbians are my thing.” When the kiss ended, she looked thoughtfully at Layke. “Is that what you are, a pseudo-lesbian?”
“I don't know what I am,” Layke said. “I know that my fiance's a man, and I haven't been attracted to him in years. Sexually attracted to him, never. And I know that I'm sitting here with you, a woman, naked, having had the best sex of my life. I know that this motel is a total dive, but when I have to leave in a few days I won't want to go back to my old life. That's what I know.”
“Maybe we should run away together,” Willa said, grinning. “We could join the circus. Be tightrope walkers, wear those really tiny skirts, make the audience go wild.”
“I wouldn't last five minutes on the run, or on a tightrope,” Layke giggled. “And I think I'd bore you to tears within a week.”
“You wouldn't.” She leaned forward and kissed her again. “So am I really the first woman you've fallen for?”
“Pretty much. At least the first woman I've wanted to... be with. And now it's like I can't think about anything else. I don't know what's wrong with me.”
“I'll tell you what it is: you're not pseudo-anything. Welcome to the club.”
Layke didn't know how to respond to that. Accepting the label of lesbian was so final, there was no going back. She still wasn't sure how she felt, if Willa was the only one, or if she was the first of possibly many. Either way, she didn't think it wise to go around calling herself something she wasn't sure she was – that could have caused all sorts of problems.
“I've known I was gay since the age of five,” Willa continued. “Even back then I knew men weren't for me, that they couldn't cut it. Women just seemed more interesting. I didn't think then that they were even an option for me, especially with the dad I had.”
“He didn't approve?”
“Hell no he didn't approve! Said it was my one flaw, that I was perfect but for what he called 'my unnatural proclivities'. For the most part he ignored it, pretended his little baby girl didn't like women.”
“That's awful.” And your father was an ass, in every sense of the word, Layke thought but didn't say. Maurice di Blasio was a class A piece of crap, a scourge on the city, on the earth. It didn't surprise her that he'd treated his daughter's sexuality with such scorn. But if Willa wasn't going to insult him, what right did Layke have? “So naturally he puts you in charge of a strip club.”
Willa laughed. “Can't say the old dragon didn't have a sense of humor.”
“What about the rest of your family? How did they take it?”
“With the exception of Trent, my brothers were fine with it. I mean, what's being gay to a family of criminals, right?”
“You being here, out of town, won't they have something to say about that?” Layke sensed she was stepping into forbidden territory, mentioning work. Her curious nature got the better of her; the detective in her never lay dormant for long. This whole arrangement that the family had, it fascinated her. Even though Willa hadn't confirmed that she was running the show, Layke didn't need her to, it was obvious.
“Everyone needs a break. Besides, technically I'm still recuperating.”
Layke raised an eyebrow. “Recuperating? So that's what this is? Because I thought we were doing the nasty all day and night. I didn't see much recuperating going on.”
“Sex makes me heal faster.” Her laugh was smoky as she peppered kisses across Layke's collarbone, neck and jaw. “Is it crazy that I still want you, after everything we just did?”
Layke giggled, Willa's kisses tickling her neck. “I have the same problem. But we really should get to sleep now. I'm pretty sure this isn't healthy.”
They fell asleep five minutes later, in each other's arms, knackered from sex.