Varian Krylov (19 page)

"It was almost a month before I saw him again. He showed up at my door, like always. I'd missed him so much, you know, I don't think I've ever wanted to fuck as badly as I did when I saw him. And at the same time, I wanted to kill him for appearing at my door like that, just when I had stopped waiting, expecting every night to hear his knock.

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"I waited. He came inside.

"I kissed him, almost afraid of what we would do to each other once the fighting started. But he didn't push me away or hit me. He yielded to my kiss. It went on and on.

So long. Like forever. Then he just backed away from me a little, and I saw that he was crying. He let me see. He was so like a little boy, then. So weak. So needy. Then he put his arms around me and told me he was sorry. He knew it wasn't fair, coming back after I'd asked him not to. That he didn't have anything new to offer. But that I was the best friend he had, and that he needed me.

"Maybe it's a little bit sad, but it was enough. That he'd talked to me like a friend there, inside the walls of my apartment. That he'd called me his friend, told me he needed me.

"The sex stayed the same, more or less. It was always a game of coercion. But now he stayed after. Sometimes he'd spend the night. Sometimes we hugged.

Sometimes—not very often, but sometimes—we kissed.

"I saw other men. Sometimes he saw women. But for the last month or so he was in Paris we practically lived together. Then the shooting of his film was finished, and he went back to America. Back to Hollywood."

"You moved here with him?"

"No."

"Because of him?"

"In part, yes."

"You still love him."

"Yes," he confessed with a sad sigh.

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"He's never told you that he loves you?"

Khalid laughed, but it was a sad laugh.

"No."

"He's told me."

"Of course . . ."

"No."

Now she was laughing.

"No. He hasn't said 'I love you' to me. But he's told me that he loves you."

Khalid was quiet for a minute or more.

"What did he say? Can you remember?"

"He said, 'Khalid and I love each other.’"

Khalid didn't turn toward her. He stared away, toward the fireless hearth. But from the way he was breathing, Vanka knew what she'd said had done something to him.

“You must think I'm indiscreet,” he said finally, after a long while. “I said so much about Galen and me. I don't want you to think so. You said he told you to get my story.

I'm used to this part I play, with him. He wants to fuck, but can't let himself. So I let him think I force him. He wants you to know about us, me and him, but can't bear to tell you everything. So I told you. I would not have, if I thought it would hurt him. If I didn't think it was what he wanted.”

“I'm sorry, Khalid, if having me around has been . . . hurtful. I didn't realize you and Galen were . . .”

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Khalid turned to her, his face looking lit up by those luminous eyes and that soft smile. “You know, I was jealous, a little, when he started talking about you. Galen's always told me, when he's gotten involved with people. Partly, I think, to keep me at a distance, even in his own mind, and partly, I think, so he won't feel guilty. He lets me see these relationships, so he's not deceiving me. And always, I feel a little hurt. A little jealous. But these things are never serious. But with you, it's different. Right away I saw that, from how he talked about you. And when he asked me to . . . well, bluntly, to fuck you, that was a first.”

“You've never . . . shared lovers, before?”

“No.”

“Can I ask . . .”

“Ask me anything, Vanka.”

“Why did you? Fuck me for him, I mean.”

He nodded, like that was the question he'd expected, but he was silent, anyway, while he came up with an answer.

“Another question with a very complicated answer,” he finally said. “Galen wanted me to. That's almost enough. Sexually, he almost never admits to wanting anything from me. So, it was a chance to please him, to excite him, without the battle.

But then I understood that you hadn't agreed, that it would be a surprise to you. I thought it was a bad idea. Was it?”

“In the end, I think it was good for me. But maybe bad for you.”

“No,” he smiled and touched her face. “I like you. I'm starting to like you very much. I'm grateful Galen . . . introduced us. And . . .”

177

“What?”

“I don't know if I should say this to you.”

“It's all right, Khalid.”

“Things have been different, better, between me and Galen, since he's known you.”

“I'm glad. Really glad, Khalid.”

“Yes, I think you are. You're a kind person, Vanka. Strong, and kind.”

No, she wasn't. If she was either, she would have dropped him off and driven away.

“Was it, is it . . . ?”

“What, Vanka?”

“Do you like fucking women?”

“You mean, did I fuck you only to please Galen?”

She was blushing, and let that suffice for an answer.

“I'd never seen you when I agreed to that first night. Galen was sure I'd want you, and he was right. It was only the situation, that you were hurt, that made it hard. But,” he grinned and the intensity of his gaze, the shift of his body made her face warm, “last night was my idea.”

“So you could . . . be with him? Differently, I mean.”

“In part, yes. But also, I wanted to be with you again. And under circumstances . .

. less coercive circumstances. I felt, that first night, really you didn't want to. You did it then, I think, to punish him.”

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It hurt, looking at his wonderful, lit-up face, his expression so warm, remembering how cold she'd been with him, now that she knew how little tenderness he got from Galen.

“Vanka?” His brow furrowed and he was searching her face.

“So . . .”

“What?”

“You wouldn't kiss him. Last night.”

Khalid smiled. “God, it would have been cruel of me. Because he could not kiss me in front of you, but he could not hit me, either. But I'm not so mean. And it would have been the end of us. He made me promise not to touch him in front of you. But he didn't need to. I know better, without him making me swear.”

“Khalid.”

She wanted. Wanted to touch those soft, curved lips with her lips, to caress and nuzzle that beautiful face that looked serene in pleasure and in sadness, to kiss those long-lashed, golden eyes, to hold and cradle him, to pet and adore him, to give him all the tender affection Galen wouldn't. She wanted him inside her, holding her, their warm skin pressed and sliding.

She kissed him, soft, tender. And he kissed her back, then took her into his bed.

After, lying on the bed they'd bared down to the fitted sheet, pillows and comforter shoved to the floor because their bodies were overheated by the spring sun and their fucking, Vanka gazed down at a dark red welt Khalid had raised with a fierce kiss. Now, with the love bite on one, and the scar on the other, her breasts seemed to match again. Symmetry. It comforted.

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Her cell rang. She ignored it. As usual. But when there was a third call inside ten minutes, she reluctantly rose from Khalid's stripped-down bed and traipsed naked to the dining room where she'd left her bags. Three missed calls; one from Nat, two from Burroughs.

Vanka pulled up Nat's number and rang.

“Hey, hon',” Nat's perky voice chimed, “the miracle's finally happened—we got the space for the third. Shooting from 10:00 to 10:00.”

“Nat . . .”

“Oh, fuck. Fuck! Fuck!” Even when she was swearing her anger at herself, the kid sounded perky. “Fuck, Burroughs is gonna kill me. We spent the last, like, fifty hours coordinating all the schedules. Is there seriously no way?”

“Sorry. I told you, nothing after the 27th.”

“For how long?”

“I can't say. If you can't swing it for the 27th or earlier, you'll have to get someone else.”

“Burroughs is gonna weep.”

“I know. Call Randall. I checked, and his schedule looks good for the next couple weeks. Burroughs will be all dilletantish about it until Randall's on the set, then they'll be like the brothers Lumiere.”

“Picasso and Braque.”

“Hemingway and Fitzgerald.”

“Thanks, Vanka.”

“Do I need to call Burroughs back?”

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“No, no. He was just being impatient.”

“OK. Bye, Nat.”

“Bye.”

Khalid was still lounging, catlike, on the denuded bed when she returned. With a bemused expression, he scanned over her nude form, maybe surprised she was so at ease, roaming naked through his house.

“What is it you have there?”

She kept her hands behind her, where he couldn't see. A euphoric excitement swelled her lungs, tingled over her belly. If Nat hadn't called, if she hadn't seen her camera bag there by her purse, she never would have thought of it. Now she was grinning, helplessly, forcing Khalid to grin back.

“I hope it's not a gun you're hiding. Maybe you've decided to play the jealous lover, to shoot me, and have Galen all to yourself.”

“Yes, I do want to shoot you,” she teased, mounting the mattress one knee at a time, hands still hidden. But now her face and chest went hot. It was a funny thing to spring on someone. Or not, after everything they and Galen had done.

“I thought maybe we could,” she started, then feeling too silly to finish her sentence, she produced the HD camera she'd snuck in.

Khalid's curious grin disappeared as his mouth went hard and his warm gaze cooled. Vanka's gut sank, her chest went tight. Oh god.

“No, it's okay, Khalid. It's was just an idea I had, just now. I just saw my bag and thought . . . but it's OK.”

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”What about Galen?” Khalid asked. His voice was tight. And he was looking at her so strangely. Like he was afraid.

“I just assumed, I would think he wouldn't,” if she kept talking she'd loose it. “Hey, can I use your shower?”

She was in the bathroom collapsing against the door as she shut it before Khalid's broken “Of course” registered. Vanka clamped her hand down over her mouth and rode out the convulsions of her belly and chest in determined silence. She didn't let herself let go until she was safely veiled under the cascade of water from the shower head, miserably cold for the first minute or so. She sobbed over this final, unexpected loss, regretting the idea had occurred to her at all. Weird, how happy the idea had made her for that moment between her camera bag and Khalid's bed. That startling, unexpected happiness, that weird, small hope, that's what made this hurt so bitter.

As she calmed she felt trapped. She wanted to sneak out and drive off without having to face Khalid. But she couldn't live with that, so she toweled off and forced herself back to the bedroom to get dressed and say good-bye. Khalid was still there, still lounging and catlike, his sleek body stretched out and striped by a swath of sunlight.

“Don't do that,” he said, his voice a low purr as she began to dress. “Come lie back down with me.”

Pathetic. Weak. So scared of being alone she let her panties drop to the floor and curled up against Khalid's smooth heat. Stroking and kissing, he soothed her. After all her crying, under the weight of her fear, she felt frail and small; Khalid's petting and cradling made her feel like a little girl, loved and looked after. And then his kisses turned ardent, his touches more rousing than comforting and she was seeking him again.

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“You know, Vanka. I have different ideas about doing that, with the camera. I hesitated, because it makes me nervous. But the idea is also exciting.”

His soft lips were curved in his placid smile, but his eyes seemed sad.

“It's fine, Khalid. It was completely impulsive. Really, I don't want to, if you're not comfortable.”

“Please, Vanka. I would like to do this. With you. Unless I've spoiled it.”

She had a tripod in the trunk, but she didn't want them in the middle of a wide frame, like anonymous strangers in some amateur porn. She wanted the camera to be close, like a lover, gazing over her naked body, and his, so when she watched it she'd remember what it was like, being close to him like this, and see how she'd looked to him, to Galen and to all her lovers as they'd kissed and touched and fucked her.

Vanka and Khalid took turns holding the camera, playing to it, looking at the LCD

panel, the whole frame all milky and pink, filled edge to edge with her thigh, her belly, her breast, her throat, then all caramel-colored with the curves of Khalid's round, narrow ass, the small of his sinewy back, the lively movement of his stiffening cock.

“Stay the night.”

“It's barely noon,” she laughed.

“I'll make lunch. Then I will leave you alone so you can work, if you want to. And then, I am sure we can find something pleasant to do this evening,” Khalid ended with his tranquil grin. Only the crinkles at the corners of his eyes gave away the insinuation.

“No.” She forced it out, against her overwhelming want to stay. “I'd better get home. My computer's there.” She sounded even less convinced than she felt.

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“Vanka.” Khalid stroked her bare arm. “Are you worried that Galen would be unhappy that you and I are here like this?”

She shrugged, startled, now that Khalid had brought it up, that she hadn't even thought about it.

“I'm very sure, Vanka, that this would make Galen happy.”

“Would it?”

“Yes.”

He kissed her, his lips soft and warm against hers, making a sweet, heavy tenderness swell in her. So different from the urgent, nervous need Galen always provoked.

“This is very different for you, isn't it? This relationship. With Galen. With me.”

She tried to smile, not trusting her voice.

“Your other relationships, none of them have been open?”

She shook her head “no.” She wanted Khalid to stop saying that word.

“Can I ask, does it hurt you, the idea of Galen and me together?”

Again, she gestured her “no.”

“It truly doesn't bother you?”

“No, Khalid,” she said, testing her voice. He'd gone still and serious and it helped, thinking of him, of his feelings. “If you were a woman, I'd probably be jealous. But truthfully, the idea of you and Galen together, of you and Galen fucking, it's completely sexy.”