Brunch with Lana and Jess on Sunday was more embarrassing than I could have ever expected. Having rarely had boyfriends that I introduced to friends or family, let alone a girlfriend, I was unprepared for their unconcealed curiosity and teasing. I had thought that, without asking them, they would be on their best behavior, both courteous and respectful of Amelia and the fact that we had only just begun to date. I got a version of this behavior from Jess, but not Lana.
When we showed up, Lana and Jess’s eyes grew about a million times bigger when they saw us holding hands. I hadn’t wanted to make a big deal of bringing Amelia, so I hadn’t told them that she was coming. This, of course, caused an immediately awkward situation, as they’d reserved a table for three, not four. This can be a major issue in the Village, where getting a table for brunch on Sunday morning at a popular place can be something like shopping on Black Friday. I started to panic, but, seeing my face, Amelia told me not to worry and then disappeared for a moment to the host’s station. She came back and we were all moved to a bigger table. Lana and Jess were duly impressed, but Amelia, as usual, took it in stride. I can’t imagine how much she had to bribe the host for us to get the bigger table, and I didn’t ask.
The insinuations started almost immediately after we ordered drinks.
Lana leered directly at me and said, loud enough for both Amelia and Jess to hear, “So, what’s Amelia like? Is she, you know, in charge of everything?” As if I didn’t catch what she meant by this, she raised her eyebrows up and down several times to emphasize her point.
I stuttered a few times and Amelia grabbed my hand, squeezing it to reassure me. “We try to share our…work equally,” Amelia said, meeting Lana’s eyes. “I try not to think of myself as a boss, and I hope Chloé doesn’t feel…pushed around too much.”
I choked on my mimosa, and Amelia had to slap me on
the back a couple of times to help me catch my breath. Her
phone rang a moment later and she excused herself to go answer it outside.
“What are you doing?” I hissed at Lana. “You’re embarrassing her.”
“I think it’s you I’m embarrassing, my dear. Amelia knows I’m joking.”
I couldn’t help but pout. I’ve never been good with teasing. I had no older siblings growing up to get me used to it. “Well it’s not very nice. You’ve just met her. And you don’t have to be such a letch.”
She held up her hands in defeat. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop talking about your sex life. Still, I have to say, now that I’ve seen her up close and in the daylight—wow. And that voice? It’s so husky and breathy—très sexy. A little like what’s-her-name, from that one movie.” She looked over at Jess, as if what she’d said was enough of a clue.
For Jess, it was. “Emma Stone.”
“Exactly—she sounds just like Emma Stone.” Lana agreed. “What a catch, Chloé. And you say she’s rich, too?”
I blushed and nodded, proud but not comfortable bragging about her yet, either.
“She’s gorgeous,” Jess said.
“You look like movie stars together,” Lana added, “especially with your new clothes. You’re both the fashion plate of the new lesbian chic.”
We laughed just as Amelia rejoined us.
“Did I miss something?” she asked, looking around at all three of us.
“Nothing important.” Lana grinned at me mischievously, as if we were hiding something from her.
“That’s what I get for leaving the table, I guess,” Amelia said, smiling.
It was one of the first times I’d heard her joke, and it took me by such a surprise that I choked, once again, on my mimosa.
*
The rest of our time in New York consisted of a blur of activity, followed by decadent dinners and passionate nights. I’d tried to bring up my concerns about reciprocating, about wanting to explore her body, but Amelia dismissed the conversation without explanation, never allowing my hands to go farther than the outside of her lingerie, and even then, she deftly prevented me from exploring between her legs.
By Wednesday, I was becoming desperate. Since Monday, we’d been working on separate tasks during the day, and the time by myself had made the problem stand out in greater relief. I promised myself to bring it up during dinner, as she obviously wouldn’t talk about it when we were in bed together. Then, just as I was finishing up with my client—the author from the dinner Friday night—I received a text message on my phone.
I’m sending you back early. Here is the information for your flight home. It’s a commercial flight, I’m afraid, as I need the jet, but your ticket is first class and direct. I need someone in New Orleans to help sort out all of this new inventory and meet with some desperate clients down there. I know we had plans for tomorrow, and I’m sorry I’m not there in person to say good-bye. Your luggage will follow tomorrow.
I’m completely booked tonight, so let’s talk tomorrow when you’ve had a chance to catch your breath.
The surprise change of plans took my breath away, and I stood on the front stoop of my client’s brownstone, completely stunned for several long moments. Anger followed my surprise, and without thinking about it, I instantly called her. She didn’t pick up. “Damn it!” I yelled, scaring a woman walking by with a stroller. I called out an apology, but she pushed her stroller away, quickly.
My anger lasted as far as the airport, and I continued to try to reach her on her phone and at the hotel. No response. By the time I boarded the plane, however, my anger had melted into a stony dread. I felt physically ill and gulped at my free champagne like a tonic. Why is she doing this? I wondered. Is she mad at me? Did I do something wrong? The various warnings I’d had from Meghan and my aunt echoed through my head as I flew farther away from New York and from her. Was she just using me? I had a hard time believing this, even in my mildly inebriated state, but the facts seemed to glare out at me. She’d dismissed me like a plaything she’d grown tired of.
By the time I reached my aunt’s place it was almost midnight and, luckily, completely empty. I stumbled into my room and fell facedown on my bed, too exhausted to even cry.
*
I was woken very early by a phone call from New York—a call made by a shipping organizer for one of the galleries, not by Amelia. The day passed in a blur of activity as I coordinated with him and with several other gallery owners and Sotheby’s. Amelia’s administrative assistant, Janet, acted with her usual super-efficiency, making my work much easier, but I still caught myself nearly breathless with anxiety throughout the day. The multi-line telephone in Amelia’s office was ringing off the hook. Just when I’d finish one phone call, I’d be on the next. I had the calls forwarded to my cell so I could go over to the airport to supervise a delivery and was talking nonstop most of the day.
By seven that evening, I’d been working for well over twelve hours and was sagging with fatigue. Seeing me quite literally drooping, Janet laughed sympathetically. “You’ve been working harder than I have, Chloé, and that’s saying something since I’m about ready to keel over. You should go home.”
“But there’s still so much to do!”
“It’ll wait. Most of the delivery services are closed this time of day anyway. Just come back as early as you can tomorrow. I’ll get George to drive you home.”
Too tired to protest, I agreed, getting home quickly with the light traffic.
Meghan, Aunt Kate, and Jim were sitting in the living room when I walked in, and all three laughed when they saw me.
“You look like tired horseshit,” Meghan said happily.
“Fuck you.” I was too tired to be amused.
“Language, ladies!” Aunt Kate said facetiously.
I sat down heavily on an armchair, dropping my bag and keys on the floor. I rolled my head back and closed my eyes. “Holy crap. I’ve never been this tired in my life.”
“Well, I hope you’re well paid for all this dedication, missy,” Aunt Kate said, clucking her tongue.
“I am. Very well, in fact.”
“I just dropped by to wait, and me, Kate, and Jim got to talking,” Meghan explained. “Never thought I’d have to wait so long.”
Suddenly remembering, my eyes snapped open. “Oh shit. We were supposed to have dinner.” Earlier in the day, Meghan had called right in the middle of three conference calls I was on, and I’d stupidly made plans to see her tonight. “You must think I’m a real ass.”
“I don’t have to think it. You are,” Meghan said, though it was clear she was joking. “I knew when I talked to you earlier that you were distracted. I shouldn’t have pushed you to make plans.”
“Really, I am sorry.”
“Well, you’re here now,” Aunt Kate said, “and knowing you, you probably didn’t have anything all day but coffee.”
She was right, and I nodded guiltily.
Aunt Kate sighed. “You go on and change, and Jim and I will go pick up some po’ boys down at Dempsey’s. If I call now, they’ll have them ready when we get there.”
Not bothering to comment, I pulled myself to my feet, Meghan trailing after me to my bedroom.
My luggage had arrived at some point during the day, and I felt another stab of betrayal. I’d left a few text messages on Amelia’s phone and tried calling between work calls, but had no response. It’d been well over twenty-four hours since I’d heard from her, which, to me, could mean only one thing: she was dumping me. I still couldn’t understand why she was doing this, however, and had a hard time rectifying the difference between the last time I’d seen her—blissful at breakfast yesterday—and this treatment. What happened? I wondered for the millionth time.
Hearing me sigh, Meghan said, “What’s up?”
“Just tired.” I didn’t want to explain. I kicked off my shoes and pulled off my stockings. I was just about to unzip my skirt, but I paused. Something had shifted in my perception of things since I’d gotten together with Amelia, and despite all the time I’d known her, it now seemed strange to undress in front of Meghan. Still, it wouldn’t help to make a big deal of it, so I tried to change as quickly as possible. Turning my back to her, I pretended to sort through my clothes so she wouldn’t see me completely naked as I pulled off my shirt. I heard her gasp behind me and then she was whirling me around.
“Chloé, what the hell?”
Surprised, I looked down at myself before remembering the bruises. My breasts and stomach had several dark ones from bite marks, and my wrists were lightly bruised and chafed. I blushed at the memory of how they’d gotten there and tried to turn away.
Meghan yanked me around to face her. “Are you sick or something? What are all these marks?”
“No, I’m not sick.” I wrenched my arm out of her grip and stepped away from her before moving across the room again.
“Then what the hell?”
“I don’t want to talk about it right now.” I tried to put as much warning in my voice as possible.
“Chloé, we have to talk about this. What happened to you?”
I didn’t reply and managed to quickly pull on jeans and a T-shirt, covering most of the marks. I couldn’t do anything for my wrists and touched them lightly, the echo of a thrill sweeping through me at the memory of Amelia tying me up. I grabbed a cardigan and, despite the heat in the house, pulled it on to cover my wrists.
When I turned around, Meghan was sitting on my bed, her face a mask of hurt and anger. She had tears in her eyes, and I quickly walked over to her and sat down next to her without saying anything. I took one of her hands in mine and rubbed it.
“Are you doing this to yourself?” Meghan asked between sobs. “Are you hurting yourself?”
I shook my head, tears filling my eyes in sympathy. I couldn’t meet her gaze and kept my eyes rooted to our hands. After another long pause I glanced up at her and could see the tears now falling down her face.
“I feel like I hardly know who you are anymore,” she finally said, shaking her head as if in disbelief. “You have all these secrets now. I don’t understand why you won’t tell me about this—how you got all these marks on your body. You aren’t sick, and you aren’t doing it to yourself…” I suddenly felt her body stiffen next to mine.
“Did Amelia do this to you?” she finally asked after a long pause.
Crying myself now, I didn’t say anything, still looking at our hands.
Meghan wrenched her hand out of mine and stood up, pacing the floor in anger.
“Jesus Christ, Chloé!” she shouted. “How could you be so fucking stupid! Why would you ever let a woman like that hurt you like this?”
“She didn’t hurt me,” I said, quietly.
“What do you mean she didn’t hurt you? You look like you’ve been beaten up, for Christ’s sake. Is she beating you?”
I shook my head and kept my eyes on the floor. I heard her pause, and she was obviously staring at me, waiting for a response.
“Fine. You know what, Chloé? Fuck you. If you’re not going to talk to me, you can just go fuck yourself.”
She started to storm out of my room and I sprang to my feet, grabbing her arm. She spun toward me angrily, her eyes blazing with rage and hurt. I pulled her into a hug, and gradually the stiffness left her body. Finally, she hugged me back.
“Goddamn it, Chloé. What’s happening?” she whispered.
“I’ll tell you, okay?” I was still crying. “Can we sit down again?”
She agreed and we made our way back to my bed. We sat there for a long time as I screwed up my courage, trying to tamp down my own embarrassment and shame. This time she took my hands in hers, waiting patiently.
Finally I sighed and met her eyes. “It’s a sex thing.”
“What?” Meghan said, completely taken aback.
“It’s a sex thing. I mean, the bruises. She likes to, you know.”
“To what?” Meghan said, eyes blazing with fury.
“To bite,” I said quietly.
“Those are bite marks?” She was nearly shouting.
“Most of them,” I admitted. “Some of them are hickeys. Anyway, I bruise easily.”
“Goddamn it! I’m going to fucking kill her!” Meghan leapt to her feet again. I pulled her back down and she sat heavily. “That bitch!” Her face was a mottled red.
“Meghan…I-I like it.”
“You what?” she shouted again.
“I like it,” I said, louder this time and meeting her eyes.
She looked completely incredulous, but after looking in my eyes for a while, she read the truth in what I was saying. “You like it,” she repeated, brow furrowed in confusion.
“Yes. I do. At first it was just a little bit of tying up, you know. And then she started biting me.” I couldn’t suppress a shudder of pleasure at the memory. “It hurts but it’s…” I looked up at her face, trying to make myself say it. “But it’s a good hurt.”
“Huh.” Meghan still looked stunned.
“I’ve been asking her to do it since we started.”
“Huh,” Meghan said again, looking at me with a strange expression. We stared at each other for a long time, and I suddenly saw a glint of humor in her eyes. She tried to suppress it, but in a moment she was giggling, her eyes alive with merriment. “You kinky little minx. Who would have thought? Have you done this kind of thing before?”
I shook my head and then shrugged. “I haven’t, you know, acted on it, I guess, but I’ve thought about it. I asked a boyfriend to tie me up once, but he wasn’t really into it.”
“Jesus.” She was laughing again. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”
I shrugged again, blushing. “I thought it would sound weird.”
“You’re damn right it sounds weird! You seem like the last person on earth that would be into that stuff, Chloé.”
“What stuff?” I asked, genuinely confused.
“S & M. You know, bondage and pain and all that.”
I blushed again, looking away. The truth was, while I’d always fantasized about being tied up, and possibly a little more than that, I’d never really thought about actually going through with it, and I’d certainly never researched it in any way. S & M was, to me, something foreign and threatening. I knew a lot of women, Meghan included, who watched porn of all kinds, but it had always just embarrassed me. For me, my fantasies had always been vague and uninformed. I’d never really thought to act on them.
“I don’t know what I’m into. It just kind of happened. I mean, she’s only tied me up once and bitten me a little. We haven’t really, you know, done anything major.” I shrugged, not really knowing what “major” would be.
Meghan’s eyebrows rose, but she didn’t comment. After a moment, she said, “Sooooo, what’s she like in bed? Is she good?”
I blushed harder, not saying anything. I couldn’t suppress a grin, however, and Meghan laughed. “Shit. She must be amazing.” My face must have gotten even redder, as Meghan laughed again.
“So is it more than sex?” she asked.
I looked up at her, surprised to feel tears in my eyes again. “I’m not ready to talk about that yet, Meghan. Don’t get mad at me—I just, I just don’t know. I thought it was, but then…well, anyway, I don’t know.” I didn’t know what was happening myself. Until I discussed this problem with Amelia, it didn’t seem fair to say anything about it to anyone else.
Meghan was clearly curious, but she managed to hold her tongue. We sat that way for a while longer, still holding hands.
Suddenly the front door opened down the hall and we heard Aunt Kate and Jim come back in, bags rattling.
We both got to our feet, and Meghan looked me up and down. “You might want to wash your face a little. You look like you’ve been crying or something.”
I laughed and went into the bathroom before joining everyone in the living room. Aunt Kate looked concerned when she saw me, clearly recognizing that I’d been crying, but, because of Jim, she didn’t say anything. I shrugged at her and tried to shake off my depression, but my fatigue was making it a hard go. My stomach was sour, too, and I picked at my food, not really eating. I kept glancing at my phone, hoping against hope that I’d at least get a text from Amelia, but it stayed silent. Meghan saw my nervousness and raised an eyebrow, but I shook my head. It was an hour later in New York, and soon it would be too late to expect a call.
Just as I was pushing away my uneaten sandwich, I heard a knock on the door. The four of us looked at each other, confused.
“Who on earth could that be?” Aunt Kate asked.
I got to my feet and opened the door, and there she was. Amelia was rumpled and tired-looking, with big bags under her eyes and smeary makeup, but she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Our eyes met, and the next second I was in her arms. We kissed, long and hard, and when we pulled apart, she had tears in her eyes.
“Chloé, I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice catching.
“It’s fine.” I pulled her into an embrace again. “It’s fine. You’re here now.”
She looked as if she was about to say more, and then I saw her eyes widen slightly as she looked behind me. I turned to see the others watching us. Aunt Kate’s mouth was hanging open, a bit of unchewed food sitting on her tongue. Meghan looked as if she might start laughing at any second. She covered her mouth with a hand briefly to stifle her merriment and then turned to Aunt Kate.
“Maybe we should give them a minute, Kate,” she said, patting her hand.
“B-but, but…”
Meghan got up and held out her hand, helping Aunt Kate to her feet. She threw us a quick grin and started leading her away.
“But,” Aunt Kate said again, this time with less conviction. Jim raised his eyebrows at us and followed them into the kitchen, leaving us alone.
Amelia came into my living room, and we both sat down on the couch. It was surreal to see her there, amidst of my childhood memories. So far she hadn’t crossed the threshold of my doorway, and now here she was, in our house, sitting on our couch.
“I want to explain,” she said.
“You don’t have to. You’re here now.” I was so relieved I was almost crying, and I didn’t want to hear anything bad now.
“No. I need to. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right.”
I didn’t reply, keeping my eyes rooted on our grasped hands.
She sighed. “Yesterday, after you left the hotel, I heard from Daphne Waters—that older woman we met Friday? The one with all the young male escorts?”
I nodded.
“She invited me to an early lunch to meet a potential client, but she set me up. I showed up at the restaurant, only to run into Sara.”
“Who’s Sara?”
“My ex,” Amelia said quietly.
My stomach seized with dread, but I remained quiet.
“She lives in New York now, but she keeps telling me she wants to move back here—and in with me. We never lived together, so I don’t know why she thinks I’d want to live with her now, especially as I’ve been avoiding her since we broke up. She’s been trying to talk to me for months. She calls me all the time, she fills my e-mail with messages, she sends me presents. I haven’t been able to get through to her. No matter what I say, she won’t stop pestering me. I’ve even been looking into getting a restraining order. I told her that yesterday.” She paused, trying to gauge my reaction. “Chloé, it’s been over for almost two years now. She isn’t anything to me but a pest.”
Some of the tension eased in my stomach and I finally met her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday? Or even earlier today? I had no idea what was going on. I thought—”
She frowned and pulled me into another hug, kissing me. Then she sighed, looking more exhausted than I’d ever seen her. “I wanted to. In fact, I was going to tell you all about it this morning, but my purse was stolen. My phone and all my contact numbers were lost. I called the office a few times, hoping to reach you that way, but I kept hitting the phone tree and getting put on hold. I eventually decided that I would just head back and catch up with you in person.”
“You tried to call?” Even more of the day’s tension eased.
“If I could have remembered your phone number, I would have called you directly, but I couldn’t. You can’t know how upset I was all day. Then I had one delay after another at the airport. I would have been back hours ago, but some kind of weather system was causing delays, and we had to wait it out.”
“So what happened with Sara?” I asked.
She sighed again. “We had lunch. Well, she had lunch and I kept trying to leave, but she insisted that I stay and hear her out. She saw us on TV, you see, and she wanted to tell me how you were bad for me. She’s done some kind of research on you—”
“On me?” I was stunned.
“I told you, she’s obsessed. Anyway, she thinks you have a checkered past or something, and I should leave you and come back to her.”
I laughed at the idea of my “checkered past” of exactly ten partners, but didn’t say anything.
“She’s crazy. I really am going to have to get a restraining order.” Amelia looked incredibly angry for a moment and then shook her head. “Anyway, when she mentioned you, I wanted to get you out of the city, fast. She’s been…rude to some of my girlfriends before.”
“Rude how?”
Amelia shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Anyway, my first thought was for your safety. I just never thought I wouldn’t get a chance to explain it to you for so long. I’m so sorry.”
I looked at her for a long time, my anger coming and going. I was so relieved to see her again and know that I hadn’t been completely deluding myself about how she felt, that I was almost willing to just let it go. Almost.
“Can you tell me one more thing?” I asked.
“Anything.”
“Where were you last night? I called the hotel and no one answered.”
I was expecting to hear the worst, but then she laughed, and I suddenly knew everything would be okay. “Well, first, I was out ripping Daphne Waters a new one. It took me a while to track her down, but I managed to catch her at a dinner party with some fancy muckety-mucks on the Upper East Side. I caused a scene.” She laughed and then shook her head again. “I threw things and threatened to sue her. By that point, I was so angry, it’s lucky they called security instead of the police, or I might be sitting in jail.”
I shook my head, unable to picture her anger. She was generally so calm and collected.
“When I got back to the hotel, I ended up sleeping in your room.” She looked embarrassed. “I wanted to be near your things since I didn’t have you there. I even used your pillow.”
All the tension in my body relaxed, and I pulled her into an embrace. We stayed that way so long, so wrapped up in the other’s presence, that I didn’t hear the others come back into the room until Aunt Kate cleared her throat. We pulled apart, both of us looking at them sheepishly.
“If you don’t mind, I think we’d like to finish our dinners now,” Aunt Kate said.
“Of course!” Amelia sprang to her feet and looked around wildly. “I’m so sorry for my rudeness. I’ll leave.”
Kate waved her hands dismissively. “You don’t have to go anywhere, girly. Sit back down. Chloé’s sandwich is big enough for the two of you.”
Meghan and I shared a glance, and I was relieved to know that she’d explained things to Aunt Kate. I’d been dreading telling her since Amelia and I had started sleeping together, and now the ice was finally broken. All I had to do was fill in the details when I talked to Aunt Kate about it later.
Watching Amelia Winters, decked out in her elegant suit and expensive shoes, eat half a po’ boy was almost worth all the previous upset. She was polite but clearly nervous, and everyone was nervous with her.
Much to my dismay, Amelia excused herself after we finished eating and insisted that I take tomorrow off from work. We stood out on the stoop, the door safely shielding us from curious eyes.
“But there’s so much work to do,” I said just before I let out a loud yawn.
Amelia laughed. “Yes, but I can handle it from here. Anyway, I want you to be fresh as a daisy for Saturday.”
In the hubbub in New York and the desperation of today, I’d completely forgotten about her parents’ anniversary party, and my stomach suddenly knotted up with nerves.
“Does that mean I won’t see you until Saturday?” I lowered my eyes flirtatiously, stepped a little closer, and ran my hands up and down the lapels of her jacket, leaning close to inhale the scent of her.
She pulled me into a long, deep kiss. “I can’t wait that long,” she whispered, voice jagged with desire. “Why don’t you stay over at my place tomorrow night?”
“I won’t be very fresh for the party if I’m with you all tomorrow night,” I said, laughing, “but I’ll be there.”
“I’ll send the car for you after I get home from work.” She kissed me good-bye and I watched her drive away, my longing for her a deep pit in my center.
When I came back into the living room, all three of the others were waiting for me with barely suppressed curiosity. I laughed at their expressions.
“Can we save the twenty questions for another time?” I asked. “If I don’t get to bed, I’ll drop dead.”
“Just one question, Chloé,” my aunt said.
I sighed, dreading an argument.
“Is she good for you?”
I smiled. “She is, Aunt Kate. She really is.”
Aunt Kate decided to take my word for it and, getting to her feet, came over and gave me a hug. “I’m so happy for you, dear. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you so happy.”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been this happy.”
Truthfully, I’d never been this happy before now.