The Taste of Lavender (4 page)

T
he day was a glorious testament to
Spring. The sun sparkled overhead, flowers sprouted new colorful blooms, the
air was warm with a slight breeze, and the sky had never seemed so blue. It was
the perfect day to be outside soaking up the best of nature, especially after
the long, gray winter we’d had.

Maribel and I decided to spend the day
in a very European fashion— we spread a comfy quilt over the green lawn on a
hillside, unpacked a picnic basket loaded with fruits, breads and cheeses, and
uncorked a bottle of Moscato. We intended to lounge and snack, relax and
rejuvenate. Basically bliss-out on the fabulous weather.

“Are you hungry yet?” I asked, settling
back on a rolled blanket. I eyed my bag, wondering if I should pull out my one
indulgence for the day— a book.
Hello, my name is Cindy and I’m a nerd.

Maribel tilted her face toward me and
considered my question. That was one of the things I loved about her— she was
always careful to listen, taking me seriously and she never saw any part of our
conversations as trivial. That kind of consideration for others was not a
common one these days.

“Not yet,” she said, picking up her
tattered leather journal and running her hand along its spine. The
tree-filtered sunlight illuminated her emerald green eyes, making her face seem
even more ethereal than normal.

“I thought I might write for a bit, if
that is okay?”

I laughed, “I was hoping to read, so
that works for me.”

We both settled in and the quiet fell
over us like a cloak. A wood-pecker hammered somewhere far above my head as I
picked up the novel. I’d been meaning to read it for ages, so finally getting
to read it was a better treat than double-shot espresso or imported truffles.
Or my late mother’s chocolate pound cake.

Typically, the books I read were work
related and chopped into editable pieces. Most of the time they weren’t even in
one of my preferred genres, as I usually skipped the bodice-rippers in favor of
a little sleuthing or supernatural fantasy. So it was a real treat to lose
myself over to a novel that had been on the top of my to-read pile forever. The
cover alone was divine, so I expected nothing less than to be blown away by the
novel. If I was still thinking about it days later, that was the mark of a
worthy read.

The sun warmed the exposed skin on my
legs and I pulled the fabric of my skirt up above my knee. Next to Maribel’s
brown-butter skin, my own legs were positively radioactive, so I could use a
little color on them. My thoughts circled back around to Maribel’s legs and I
chanced a glance at them, peeking out from under her signature peasant skirt.
The fabric was colorful in an understated patchwork sort of way, reminiscent of
romantic gypsy fashion. It suited her and her toned legs perfectly. But I had
to
not
think of her legs at the moment, so I flipped open my novel dove
into it.

While I read, Maribel scribbled
furiously into her aging brown journal, her pen scraping the paper as she
filled page after page. Occasionally she’d stop and observe the children
running around the playground at the bottom of the hill, or to watch a squirrel
run up a nearby tree trunk. I even felt her gaze settle on me several times,
though I gave no indication that I’d noticed. Then she’d go back to writing and
I would concentrate on my novel again.

I’d been reading for over an hour when
Maribel spoke.

“Here, try.” Maribel held a a wheat
cracker with a smear of compound herb butter out to me. Boy, that book had
really sucked me in— I hadn’t heard Maribel pulling out the food at all.

I leaned closer and opened my mouth,
biting through the cracker slowly before licking my lips. I was still new to
the flirting thing, so I hope that I looked sensual and not like a deranged
lunatic. Or a rabid dog.

“Oh, that’s nice. What else do you have
in that thing?” I craned to get a look inside her antique basket that was big
enough to hold the contents of a normal refrigerator.

She wagged her finger at me. “I told
you, it’s a surprise.”

Maribel handed me a plastic cup filled
with the wine. In my fantasy world I’d prefer crystal flutes, but I can see how
going inconspicuous was probably the better route to travel. I sipped my wine,
letting the sweet bubbles tickle my tongue.

“Close your eyes,” she said.

I did as she asked and waited patiently.
With my vision shut off, the surrounding sounds were amplified. Birds twittered
overhead in the trees, the grass rustled nearby, and the blanket rustled as
Maribel neared me. Something cool was pressed to my lips and my skin felt
electric from the sensation.

I parted my lips and allowed her to feed
me. My cooperation was rewarded by the crisp, slightly-sweet taste of a grape
as it burst inside my mouth.

“Oh, that was cold.” I covered my mouth
with my hand, slightly self-conscious about eating with someone watching me.

Maribel chuckled quietly while she dug
around in that basket of hers.

“Open, again,” she said.

The second bite was harder to pin down.
It had the crunch of some sort of salted biscuit or cracker, topped with a
light and semi-sweet jelly. I also tasted herbal and floral undertones. It was
unexpected, but very good.

“Lovely. What was that?” I asked.

“Sea salt pita crisps with
Hibiscus-Lavender jelly.” She said.

“I’m definitely taking that jelly home
with me.” I smiled, no longer feeling silly for playing the game. “What’s next?”

“Hmmm, let me see.” Maribel shuffled
some things around.

While I waited, my mind wandered a bit.
The day had been perfect so far, and although I was actively trying
not
to think about the nature of our relationship too much, it was moments like
then that I almost couldn’t help it. Feeling like a princess in a fairytale
will do that to a girl. Not that I was leading a sheltered, pampered life. It
was more about how I felt— a bit like Snow White singing in the woods while
cute little animals frolicked around me. I felt enchanted.

“Now, try this.” Maribel interrupted my
thoughts.

I bit down on the cube of mystery food
that she placed on my tongue. The bite was sweet and grainy, but with a salted
aftertaste. “Watermelon?”

“Yes.” She whispered very near to me. I
could practically feel the day’s warmth radiating off her body.

“What did you do to it? It was...
different. Very good though,” I added quickly before she thought that I didn’t
like it.

I felt her breath on my ear. “It was
rolled in Himalayan pink sea salt. Besides the unique taste, the two make a
very pretty picture. Much like us.”

Damn, that women said the most poetic,
the most refreshing things, and that made my heart swell and burst into a
flurry of heart-shaped confetti.

“Here, have another.” She said, placing
the salted cube into my mouth before dragging her finger across my bottom lip.

My stomach flip-flopped just a little,
which set off a chain reaction in my body, leading to that slow burn
accumulating in my lap. She settled her lips on my own and rested her hand on
my thigh. For a moment, I surrendered to the wave of pleasure that the
slightest touch from Maribel brought. But then I came to my senses.

Panic exploded in my chest. She’d kissed
me. In public. Where anyone could bear witness. And stone me or something.

My eyes popped open and swept across the
area quickly. Had anybody seen that? Did I know any of the people nearby?
Oh-my-god, what would they think? Maribel sat, looking perplexed.

“What did you do
that
for?” I
hissed at Maribel while I gathered up my things. I threw my novel in my bag and
started closing up the food containers, practically throwing everything back in
the basket.

“Stop.” Maribel grabbed my wrist. “Look
around, most of the people left while you sat with your eyes closed.”

She was right, only a pair of lovers
sat, embracing on the edge of the dock on the other side of the field. Their
backs were to us while the watched the late afternoon sun dancing over the
lake. I’d freaked out and ruined the day for no good reason.

Heat bloomed on my cheeks. I felt like
an idiot and searched for something to say to Maribel to make up for my
behavior. I opened my mouth to speak and she pressed her finger to my lips.

“How do you say in America? Shut up?”
Maribel smiled and winked at me.

She dug my novel back out of my bag and
handed it to me. Then she too the two rolled blankets and stacked them in front
of the picnic basket. She patted the ground and motioned for me to recline
against the makeshift pillows. I scooted over to sit where she wanted me, only
she didn’t want me to sit.

“On your side, facing that way,” She
waved toward the drop off of the hill, overlooking the mostly empty park. I
settled in and cracked the book back open, while being fully aware that Maribel
was behind me and out of my sight line. I felt her sit beside me and heard the
scratching of her pen on paper.

“So, we’re back to relaxing?” I asked,
not quite sure what to make of the sudden switch-off of conversation,
especially since I still needed to apologize for freaking out on her over the
kiss.

“Mmmhmm,” was the reply.

I tried to read, I really did. But all I
could think about was the kiss. How it had felt so natural and beautiful until
the moment where I’d allowed the thoughts of others to mar the moment. And that
led me to thinking about how close Maribel was to me, right behind me really.
Close enough that I could feel the micro-vibrations with each pen stroke she
made. The heat of her hip spread to my lower back where our bodies touched.

Maribel stopped writing.

She placed her hand on my hip, then slid
it up my side to my rib cage, before dragging her fingers slowly back down my
silhouette. I took in a deep breath, not knowing what she had planned, but not
wanting her to stop either. She caressed my hip, the top of my thigh and all
the way down to my knee. Around to the back of my leg, behind the knee, her
fingers massaged the bare skin tenderly, then inched back up. Skin on skin, she
slipped her hand under my skirt and my groin clenched.

I arched my back and slipped my top leg
forward just a bit. I felt lithe and catty, stretching my body to influence her
path. She kneaded my thighs, her fingers prodding and gliding over my skin.
Higher and higher. Her fingers grazed the apex of my thighs and heat pooled between
my legs.

“You like?” she asked, skimming the
crease between my legs and butt.

I nodded, unable to speak.

“Good, then you just keep an eye on the
others,” she purred, rolled over on her side and pressed herself up behind me.

She slipped her fingers inside of my
panties and my body arched even further, giving her more access to the place I
really
wanted her to touch. Her other arm snaked under the arm I was using to prop my
head up, and closed around my breast. She fingered my nipple through the thin
cloth and as it hardened I felt a jolt of pleasure shoot all the way down into
my abdomen.

Her hand slipped under my panties and
ran delicately over my ass, caressing each cheek before pushing further between
my legs. My thighs quivered as she found me wet with desire. Her lips brushed
the bared skin on my shoulder as her fingers found my core. Slowly, she slipped
a finger inside of me. My body tightened around her digit with a tiny spasm. If
I didn’t focus, I was going to lose it.

I reached behind me with my free arm,
found her skirt and tugged it up to where I could feel Maribel’s skin under my
fingertips. As she sunk her finger into me again, I found her core and returned
the thrust. My thumb circled around her nub several times before I slid my finger
into her hard and withdrew it slowly, only to start the cycle over again each
time. 

She teased me, playing my body like a
fiddle, building up to a crescendo that would have me seeing stars. Her fingers
were magical. I felt myself open up to her completely, like I was being turned
inside out.

“Are you watching?” she asked.

I was. And I wasn’t.

While I was still so worried about being
caught, at some point all my concern dropped away. We could have been in the
middle of Time’s Square and I wouldn’t have asked her to stop. She was taking
me from behind, and it felt marvelous.

Maribel pressed harder into me as I
worked her body into a frenzy. I couldn’t stop my body from rocking against her
hand. There was passion and love-making, and then there was what we were doing.
Something about it felt more basic, more primal. More animalistic.

I closed my eyes and considered what we
would look like to any onlookers, writhing against each other, her dark hair
draped over my shoulder.

We climaxed at the same time. I felt her
body contract and clench around my fingers with velvet-like softness, as the
the heat seeped over my hand. When my body finally stopped contracting around
Maribel’s hand, she withdrew her fingers and smoothed my dress down in the
back. I felt her roll onto her back, removing herself from my hand.

“Perfect ending to a perfect day,” she
mused.

I flipped over to face Maribel. “I don’t
know. I was thinking we should try for dessert in the car on the way back
home.”

She cocked an eyebrow and laughed as a
breeze lifted her hair, floating ebony curls around her face. “Challenge
accepted.”

––––––––

“Y
ou cannot avoid the question forever,”
she said, standing with her back to me and gazing out of the library window.
Maribel remained still, patiently waiting for her words to have some effect on
me. Though I couldn’t see her face, I heard the sorrow in her voice. It was
like my refusal to answer automatically meant that she would not like the
answer.

I sighed and sat on the edge of her
wingback chair, uncomfortably

She turned toward me, the golden light
illuminating her wild tresses and wrapping her in star-burst halo. God, she was
an angel. 

“What question?” Absent of a decent
answer, I tried to play it off, crossing the room and stopping in front of her.With
the back of my hand, I brushed Mirabel’s cheek softly and she tilted her head
into my touch in a very feline manner. I half-expected her to let out a meow.

“Do not think for that you can come over
here and make me forget that we are in the middle of a conversation.” She
purred with her eyes closed, keeping her face pressed to my hand.

I stepped closer, wrapped my arms around
her waist and pulled Mirabel closer. I stood up on the tips of my toes and
kissed her closed eyelids, one and then the other, then the bridge of her
elegant nose, her golden forehead, and laid my final kiss on her pouting bottom
lip. Yet, she remained stiff and non-pliable.

She wasn’t giving in.

“What do you want me to say? That I love
you, because you know I do.” I buried my head in her neck, the smell of her
lavender and lemon body lotion making me feel intoxicated. “But that’s all I
know for sure right now.”

Maribel stiffened in my arms. “What do
you think
this
is? A quirky friendship... a experimentation... a diversion
from real life?”

I held her as she tried to pull away,
panic flaring in my veins. “No, of course not!”

She looked down at me, her own eyes
rimming with tears. “I don’t know any more than you do, but we can’t go on like
this. It is not right to the others.”

The others. Our respective spouses. The
cuckolded ones.

“I know, but don’t you see, it’s them
that makes this so hard. I don’t want them to know!”

Maribel gasped and wrenched away from
me. She was like sand through my clutching fingers.

“I knew you were ashamed of us. I just
didn’t think you would say it out loud,” she said.

“No, I’m not... that’s not what I meant.”
I stammered and all but chased after Maribel as she circled the room while
backing away from me.

I searched for the right words to convey
how I felt, knowing that no matter what I said I couldn’t make her understand.
But I had to try.

“I know how I feel, and I know what you
mean to me.” I caught up with her and led her by the hand to the aged leather
couch. “But everyone else won’t understand. They are on the outside looking in.
I’ll be the liar, the cheater, the woman who lost her good sense and became a
lesbian. To some I’ll be the degenerate, the freak. And although your opinion
is the only one that matters to me, what everyone else says and thinks about
me, about us and our relationship will tarnish this beautiful thing we have.”

“You are wrong. None of that is
important.”

I sighed and regrouped my thoughts,
circling my thumb over Maribel’s hand. “You are right, all that doesn’t matter.
But it
will
affect us. This thing we have, it’s beauty and light and
pure. Once people know, then everything changes. They will tarnish us.”

She leaned back on the couch and I fell
into place beside her. I rested my head on Maribel’s chest and she began
stroking my hair. “Believe it or not, I do understand how you mean. You cannot
keep this a secret forever though, unless we never see each other again. You
are only prolonging the inevitable, and at the expense of others.”

Put that way, she had a point.

But that didn’t mean I was ready for all
that came along with telling the world about us.

“Say that I’m ready to do this, what
exactly would
this
encompass?” I drew little figure-eights on her leg
with my pinkie finger.

Maribel chuckled, which was a good sign.
“I supposed we would need a plan.”

I silently rolled my eyes. “That’s what
I mean, what’s the plan? We tell my husband, your husband and then what? It’s
possible we both might end up homeless you know.”

My tone was light and joking, but the
reality of what I’d said struck a chord. What was to stop Paul from kicking me
out the moment I told him? I could work from anywhere, but I’d still need my
laptop and files. Not to mention all of my clothes and stuff. Then there was
the money thing... I made a decent living, but Maribel didn’t work at all and I
knew that I couldn’t carry us both for very long. For such a base emotion,
there sure was a bucket-load of things to consider where love was involved. If
only the act of being in love were as simple, as instinctual as the act of
falling in love.

“Lucas would not do that. He adores me.”
Maribel said, a note of regret in her voice.

I knew what she meant, but that didn’t
keep the jealousy at bay. Were they still sleeping together? Did she still love
him? Was there any chance that she didn’t love me enough? My stomach rolled and
it was clear that I couldn’t think about any of that at the moment. Truthfully,
I didn’t want to know the answers because I couldn’t bear the thought of
anything that took Maribel away from me.

“So, they love us... that won’t stop them
from being angry and hurt.” I countered.

Maribel frowned and lapsed into silence.
I didn’t really want to be having this discussion anyway, so I was content to
wait for her to speak again. I reclined on the sofa and pulled Maribel into my
lap. She pouted, but didn’t resist, allowing me to spoon her from behind. We
laid like that for well over an hour, each thinking  and worrying about
separate, but identical things. I played out every scenario I could think of,
and none of them felt real. None felt like they were possible, like a path I’d
end up taking. I thought so much my head began to throb. I had to stop. I just
couldn’t think about it any more.

I decided to distract myself by
distracting Mirabel. I nuzzled into her mass of curls and my lips found their
way to the creamy skin of her neck. She didn’t react, so I upped my game by
sliding my hand down over her hip and down to her knee. Her skin was cool and
soft under my fingertips and I felt goosebumps raise under the warmth of my
hand. She wiggled slightly and I took that as my cue to continue. I worked my
fingertips higher, circling with barely-there pressure, until I grazed the apex
of her sex. I laughed under my breath— Maribel wasn’t wearing any underwear.

As I brushed lightly all around her
thighs and lips, Maribel twitched and shifted under my touch. She wanted to beg
me to touch her
there,
I just knew it. But I wasn’t ready to give
in just yet. She bucked harder as my finger skimmed her delicate folds,
dragging the wetness across her skin.

“Please,” she whispered.

I ignored her and kept up my slow,
delicious torture. Maribel moaned and pulled away.

Before I could protest, she rolled to
face me, kissed me with urgency and popped open the snap on my jeans. She shoved
her hand down my pants and found me just as wet and willing as she was. Our
kissing grew more frantic, so did the rhythm with which we ground against each
other. My fingers circled her clit for several beats, then slipped inside of
her, only for me to withdraw and circle her entrance again. She pumped her hand
into me greedily, trying to fill me up completely. I quivered and stretched
around her hand.

It was primal, this mating of souls.

As we neared the climax, everything else
fell away. Sounds, sights, smells— all that was left was a swirling tide of
toe-tingling pleasure. We crested together and collapsed onto each other. The
room was silent for several minutes, with the exception of our labored
breathing.

Then, the spell was broken as Mirabel
spoke. Her voice was low and even, but her words held immeasurable weight.

“You have to decide. We can’t keep doing
this.”

With that, she got up, straightened her
clothing and left me laying on the couch with my pants unfastened and my mouth
hanging open. I watched her leave the room, heard her leave the house, all the
while trying to come up with something to say.

By the time I found my voice, there was
no one around to hear me say, “Anything, I’ll do anything you want.”