Venus in Love (2 page)

Just as Lee was about to speak, Venus blinked, and the spell was broken. Venus’s attentions were just as quickly refocused on Professor Buerdett and off of Lee. Lee felt the cold creep in quickly as those warm eyes looked away. As Lee forced herself to breathe, the scents of ocean spray and rain permeated her senses. She felt herself growing weak with each inhale. Each breath filled Lee with an intoxicating peacefulness. The anxiety she’d had moments ago dissolved steadily with each breath she drew in. Lee drifted into a daydream, as she had many times, while studying this living masterpiece.

She pulled Venus from the ocean, wet and dripping with the salty seawater. The ocean breeze flowed through her hair, and the cool air teased her nipples into tight pink tips. Lee felt a rush of heat between her thighs as she drew Venus into her arms, melding the smooth body into her own. Holding her tightly, Lee dipped her head to claim the warm, moist, and naturally pink lips with her own.

Lee was jolted awake by the rustling of papers and the loud chatter of students wrestling for the exit. She quickly glanced at the seat next to her, and a surge of disappointment rushed through her body as she realized it was no longer occupied. As Lee gathered her things to leave, she remembered the sweet scent of the woman who fueled her desires.

*

Morgan Blake didn’t even take the time to pack her books into her bag when class was finally dismissed. The last hour of class seemed to linger on endlessly as she listened to the soft, slow breathing of the woman sleeping beside her. The rugged, dark-haired woman pinched her nerves of both frustration and yearning. When she first sat down, Morgan wanted to express her disgust at the way she sauntered into class thirty minutes late nearly every day. Yet, she only managed the sharp intake of breath when their eyes met. Once her neighbor drifted off, Morgan couldn’t keep herself from appraising the curves and angles of the hands with long, slender fingers. Morgan imagined how those hands would feel running through her hair, gripping her neck, and pulling her in for a taste of those delicately parted lips.

Try as she might to focus on Byzantine architecture, she found herself drawn back to the sharp features of the woman beside her. The long, jean-clad legs that stretched out in front of her, and the hint of a tight tee under an orange plaid vintage button-up, complete with pearl snap buttons. As she brazenly surveyed the remarkably relaxed and confident woman, Morgan secretly wished she would open those deep soulful eyes and look at her once again.

As soon as Morgan recognized the professor’s telltale signs of lecture conclusion, she gathered her things and slipped past the sleeping figure. Morgan did not have time for such diversions in her final classes. She was leaving for Paris in three months, and letting her grades slip because of some roguish distraction was not an option. She didn’t get the Louvre internship by frequent tardiness and sleeping through class. She wasn’t about to let someone who did affect her future.

“Oh, I bet even an hour with her would be worth it, somehow,” she said out loud to no one when she stopped at a park bench to put her books away.

“Who would be worth it, gorgeous?” a man said suggestively into her ear.

Morgan jerked up and spun around to see her best friend and roommate, Freddy, smiling at her slyly.

“You know I hate when you do that! Why hasn’t it gotten old for you yet?”

“Because it makes me laugh.”

“Yes, it’s very funny,” Morgan said with thick sarcasm.

“So what would be worth it?”

“Ugh, nothing. I’m just telling myself that daydreaming about the campus hottie is not benefiting my future plans for greatness.”

Freddy poked Morgan in the ribs. “Ah, yes. However, it would undoubtedly benefit your shriveling vagi—”

Morgan cut him off with a mocking punch to his stomach. “Stop it! That’s almost as annoying as sneaking up on me. And I would appreciate it if you would stop thinking about my vagina. It’s…creepy.”

“Trust me, girlfriend, the less I think about your vagina, the better I feel,” Freddy said in his exaggerated femme voice.

“Speaking of that, shouldn’t you be off courting some hot stud across campus right about now?”

“While it pains me to say it, for once, we will not let this be about me.” He winked.

Morgan laid her head on his shoulder when he grabbed her hand and laced their fingers together. “Let’s go home.” She was going to miss Freddy very much when she left.

“So, is she really as hot as you say she is…while you’re sleeping?” Freddy whispered.

Morgan chopped him in the gut for real this time. “Shut up!” she screeched, laughing. “I hate you. And yes. Yes, she is.”

*

From the steps of the auditorium, Lee watched the banter between Venus and a handsome young man. Lee watched the woman’s hair blow around her in the wind as the man poked at her abdomen intimately, making Venus swirl away from him and return with a jab in his stomach. The playful exchange reminded her of siblings, and it was very likely that Venus was straight. Lee would not have been surprised to see him sweep her into his arms and kiss her. When he grabbed her hand and led Venus away, Lee couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. She wished she was the one Venus looked at so adoringly. It was then that Lee promised herself that the next time she had the chance, she would ask Venus out.

“What would it hurt?” Lee said despite the small warning her heart offered at the thought of rejection.

On a day that seemed so full of potential, Lee answered a call that changed her world forever. Lee listened numbly as the caller told her that her father, her mentor, confidant, and best friend, had suffered a fatal heart attack. She left for home that night and never returned to finish her final semester or see Venus again.

“Mother, you don’t
need
me there, you
want
me there. There’s a difference. Hold on a sec…” Lee paused the redundant conversation as she got into her Mercedes and enabled the wireless Bluetooth feature. She didn’t want to be having this discussion at all, but if she was going to while driving, hands-free was not only safer, it was required by law.

“Okay, what was I…oh, right. What I
need
is
not
to have to listen to another person offer sympathies for our loss or receive congratulations for my ‘unfortunate advancement’ to director of the gallery. And I certainly will not be cornered by Bernard Aleurest and forced to listen to him tout the benefits of ‘merging our houses,’ literally and figuratively.” Even the mention of his name made her skin crawl and brought up a knot of nausea in her throat. He was simply sleazy.

“I know, darling, but sometimes—”

“Mother, I’m not ready. And besides, what would I do without you handling everything so perfectly?”

“One day, you are going to—”

Before her mother could finish her sentence, Lee cut her off and merely informed her that she would call as soon as she got there. There being Paris, France. It wasn’t that Lee was in love with France; she was in love with the Musée du Louvre. It was her home away from home and the only place in the world she could go to get and be lost. The Louvre was 645,800 square feet of the art and antiquities that most visitors spent hours or even days wandering determinedly, seeking out the museum’s most celebrated pieces. Lee’s goal, however, was to wander aimlessly, deep into its heart to find something that offered answers to her questions and soothed her turmoil.

Art speaks without words and loves without prejudice. Listen and she will tell you all you need to know in that moment.
Lee’s eyes filled with tears as she remembered her father’s words. “I miss you so much, Daddy.”

Before the tears could spill over onto her cheeks, Lee composed herself. She really needed to get away, and she hoped she was picking the right place to go. She hadn’t been back to Paris since the week after her father’s funeral. Both events seemed like a lifetime ago. A year and a half ago, two things in Lee’s life were constant, fine art and her father, solid, stable, and everlasting. She always believed they would be there for her forever, whenever she needed them.

The thought of never being able to hear him tell her that, “everything rights itself in the end,” made her gasp for air. Lee could not think of a single time when her father hadn’t dropped everything to listen to her latest dilemma and offer his sage advice. She remembered the many times he had stopped a meeting, ushered everyone out of his office, and asked her to “start from the beginning.” She couldn’t recall a time when he wasn’t able to resolve even her most personal dramas. Until this trip to Paris, Lee had avoided any situation that required a decision short of her daily wardrobe selection. In college, before her father’s death, her life was carefree and uncomplicated.

That changed in the months afterward. Lee spent much of her time organizing and managing the things in her life that she could. Even her intimate encounters had become calculated. She left nothing to chance. Doing so made her feel helpless, and she refused to feel that way if she had the ability not to.

When she thought about it, she became very angry. She was angry with him for always coddling her. She was angry that he never said no, and he never made her learn anything on her own. She never had to learn things the hard way. But mostly, she was angry with him because he never prepared her for the day that he would no longer be there for her. He taught her everything she knew about the gallery, about art, about curating, fundraising, and managing staff, but he never taught her how to do it without him—the one and only reason why her mother did it all now.

By the time she reached Dulles International Airport, she had herself worked into a pulsing knot of tension and was on the brink of an emotional breakdown. As she pulled her car up to the valet, she managed to subdue most of the physical symptoms. If she was good at anything on her own it was putting on a pretty face. She was looking forward to not being Ainsley Rae Dencourt, daughter of the dearly departed Albert Randall Dencourt of the prominent Dencourt Gallery.

*

The flight from D.C. to Paris was uneventful, just as it always was. Lee wasn’t particularly fond of flying, but found it to be a necessary evil to get anywhere worth being. When she disembarked the plane, she was quickly thankful that she was without luggage and hoped that the clothes she kept at the flat would still fit. If anything, she thought they may be too large, but Lee couldn’t honestly remember having lost or gained weight in the previous year.

It was almost midnight in Paris when she arrived, and although the City of Light didn’t lack for late-night entertainment, Lee was exhausted. The twenty-five-minute cab ride to her flat was almost enough to put her to sleep. As much as she wanted to close her eyes for those few minutes, she took in the sights of her favorite place on earth. They passed the Arc de Triomphe, lit from all sides, making it shine like a beacon welcoming her back. The Eiffel Tower sparkled in its random show of artistry and light, and as they neared her apartment, she could see the warm glow of the
Pyramide du Louvre
and heard it calling her name. She answered its request with a silent promise to visit the next day. She couldn’t wait to dive into the depths of the mystery and wonder that was held in the palace, but more importantly, she wanted to escape from the world outside its walls. A world she didn’t have the power to contain.

Lee fished out her keys, knowing instinctively as she fingered the few the key ring held which one she was after. She tipped the driver generously and crawled out of the cab. Lee rode up the elevator to her fifth-floor flat, and once inside, she kicked off her shoes and placed them neatly in the foyer. She scanned her surroundings. Lee was glad she paid someone to clean and maintain the flat while she was away. It allowed her to make these unexpected trips easily. She briefly glanced over the room. It had been so long since her last stay. Lee moved slowly through the rooms, absentmindedly straightening the already impeccably placed items. They weren’t out of place, she knew that, but it made her feel better knowing that everything was how it should be. Content that nothing seemed particularly out of place, Lee padded down the hall to her bedroom.

She stripped out of her clothes and placed them in the hamper, then she took a quick shower to wash the eight-hour plane ride from her body while she imagined the water washing the world away. She wrapped herself in the robe she kept behind the door, noticing the freshly washed scent and thanking Marguerite, her housekeeper, for her attention to detail. Lee searched through her wardrobe for something to wear and smiled when she came across her favorite T-shirt, a well-worn, heather gray college tee that transported her back to happier days.

The comfort of the shirt was both physical and psychological. She slipped it on and hugged herself, welcoming the distant sense of well-being. Before making her way to bed, she stopped at the window to gaze down at the street and watch the few late evening revelers make their way home. Lee’s gaze was drawn to the couples walking arm in arm and holding tightly to each other as they slowly strolled along the sidewalk. The sight made her feel lonely.

Lee wasn’t sure what caused the memory of her golden-haired Venus from college. Maybe it was the combination of the memories from school and the comfort she saw between the couples on the street that sparked a forgotten image of the day Venus had walked out of her life forever. Lee stood at the window for a while longer, replaying the lightheartedness she last remembered feeling from so long ago. As she made her way to bed, Lee wondered absently about where she would be had she ever had the opportunity to introduce herself to Venus and where they would be, if anywhere, now. Would they be one of the couples wrapped in each other’s arms as they made their way through the romantic evening streets of Paris? Or would she have received a polite but curt brush-off the second Lee asked her out?

Lee slipped under the blankets, and for the few brief moments before sleep claimed her, she wondered about where life had taken the captivating young woman she called Venus.