Page 38 of Stroked
I started pulling things from the bag. “We should probably warm this,” I said as I pulled the lasagna out.
“Oh, lasagna. That smells great. I didn’t expect--”
“You expected Brazilian food? I eat other things and I enjoy cooking.”
Amy sighed. “Look, we arebothtense. I’m sorry for what happened outside. I said we should talk, and you came. So, let’s take a breath and start over.” She quickly popped the cork from the red and poured a glass, stepping closer to me to take it. “I love lasagna. It smells great. I’ll turn the oven on, and you can have a seat and sip this.”
I took the glass, letting my fingers linger a little too long on hers. It didn’t go unnoticed as her eyes darted to mine. I wanted so badly to drop the glass wherever it landed and take her face in my hands. Instead, I pulled away slowly and went to the living room.
As she pulled something from another bag and turned on the oven, I looked at the sofa, recalling the amazing connection we enjoyed there together just days before. Looking back, she was watching me from the corner of her eye, still arranging something in front of her. There was no other place to sit unless I went to the small table just outside the kitchen, so I inhaled a silent but deep breath and finally sat.
Amy brought over a tray with a few meats, cheeses, and crackers and placed it on the coffee table after pushing the beautiful sculpture to the side. “I didn’t know what the plan was, so I figured a few snacks were appropriate.” She pressed her palms to her shorts, then rushed back to the kitchen. She was as nervous as I was.
I leaned to grab some cheese and the oven beeped, so she put the lasagna in. “How long should we warm this? I don’t really cook unless it’s frozen and has instructions on the box.”
Chuckling, I answered, “About twenty minutes should be fine. Enough for the middle to warm.”
She pushed a few buttons on the oven, then grabbed her glass and came to take a seat on the other side of the sofa. I was pressed against one corner; she was pressed against the other. The sofa wasn’t very large, but the space between us seemed wider than the Grand Canyon.
We both sipped our wine in silence for what seemed like an eternity, but probably was only a minute or two, before she spoke up.
“So, your last name is Santos. Right? I guess I shouldn’t assume that just because it’s your mother’s name.”
“It is and that is fine. And you are Amy Lindsey, curator.” Another long silence.
“Well, I guess there isn’t a delicate way to enter this conversation, so I’ll just dive in. You are closeted. Like, pretty much all the way. I know your parents don’t know, but what about your siblings? Friends?”
I rolled the wine in my glass gently. Still staring at the deep red liquid, I answered. “No. The only people who know anything are the few women I have had relationships with. And we were very discreet.” I could feel her watching me, but I couldn’t look up.
“These relationships, were they lengthy? Or monogamous? This seems sort of private to ask, but after what we did on this sofa, I suppose we’ve gotten pretty private already.”
The mention of us being together formed a warm ball in my gut that was swirling around with the knots. “Honestly, they were short-lived, and I am unsure if they saw other people during those times. They were not very romantic or committed, just physical.”
She put her glass on the table and leaned back to her corner. My pulse raced as I thought she may have freed her hands for me, but when I finally looked over, she was resting her chin on her hand, her arm propped on the back of the sofa.
I took another sip, then placed my glass on the table and turned to face her. “Look, Amy, I did not mean to deceive you or put you in a bad position. And I need to apologize for Thursday. I should never have asked you to lie. I was blindsided and panicked.” Her stare was boring into me, so I looked at the tray of food. “I have never once been in a position where a lover and my family were in the same room together and I did not know what to do. But it still was not right to ask of you. I know there are a million other things I could have suggested, but—”
“Valentina, stop.”
I was still looking at the table, afraid of what she was about to say. But the warmth of her hand under my jaw jarred me into looking up.
“You apologized for the lie and that’s all you need to say. I’m sorry I was being…me, I guess.” My shoulders relaxed as she spoke, but my skin was on fire from her touch. “I am notmadthat you are closeted. I washurtthat you could deny me in front of anyone. I didn’t understand why. Even though you rapidly explained, it still got under my skin.”
Her eyes were soft as was her tone, and her words were breaking my heart. I wrapped my hand around her wrist, wanting to do more but unsure of my boundaries in this new territory. “Amy, I did not intend to hurt you, and I do not want to hurt you. It is very complicated, but it is not about you. You must know that.”
She nodded and her thumb brushed my cheek. “I think I do. But you must know I haven’t had a relationship in years, and I really like you. I know we haven’t known each other long, but I can’t stop thinking about you. And when I saw you there, looking stunning, even though I was at my job, I got really excited to see you. So, it just…” she paused, “…deflated me. Is that too much?”
Her eyes were glistening as she searched my face. The knots in my stomach were melting and the warmth was growing. “It is not too much, Amy. I really like you, too.”
Amy leaned toward me, and my mouth went to hers like a magnet. The space closed slowly, and my lips were desperate to be on hers.
Just as our lips were about to meet, she stopped, and her hand held my face from moving forward. “We probably need to talk more.” Her breath danced over my chin.
My body hummed, and I couldn’t stop my hand from reaching behind her and grasping a handful of hair. Her neck was exposed, and I needed to taste it. Leaning down, I gently pressed my lips to the warm skin. “Do you still want to talk?”
Amy moaned without saying a word, so I pressed my lips to the soft skin in the crevice of her neck, then gently ran my tongue across. Her warm breath covered my ear as her hands began exploring. I needed to taste her mouth, so I kissed my way up her neck, to her chin, then finally found those luscious lips. I leaned to her again, this time teasing her lips with my tongue. Hers parted, so my tongue plundered her mouth.
As the kiss intensified, her hands pulled at my legs as she pulled me into her lap. My dress was hiked up so I could straddle her, and her hands stroked and kneaded the back of my thighs.
