Dead to Her(38)

Part Two





Epigraph



I walk on gilded splinters,

I want to see what they can do!

Translation of an old Creole song





26.

Marcie’s limbs ached from being out all night, falling asleep in the grass amid strangers’ bodies, waking up cold and barely dressed before smoking their last joint and grabbing an Uber home at dawn. But now as she slowly woke a few hours later from the sleep of the dead in her own bed, even the aches were blissful. She luxuriated in Keisha’s touch, shivering as the other woman slid down under the sheets, hands on the insides of Marcie’s thighs, opening her up. As her mouth made contact, Marcie gasped.

It was all so different. Sex in a mirror, not up against one. Reflection, not objectification. Soft skin on soft skin, no rough stubble chafing her, no demand for noise and validation. They understood each other’s bodies. Inexperienced in this kind of sex as Marcie was, she’d still known how to please Keisha. How to find the right spot. How fast or slow to move. Just how hard to bite down on her nipples. How to tease her. This was sex among equals. This was not a battle, even when biting skin or tugging on hair.

One hand went to her own breast as Keisha’s mouth and fingers worked at her until bright stars moved across the backdrop of her closed eyes and her whole body shuddered. She sighed and let out a half-laugh as Keisha returned to her arms, breast against breast as they relaxed into each other. How strange this was. Ridiculous. Crazy. It couldn’t continue, of course, and would have to be simply a weekend of madness, but at the same time it was so glorious she didn’t want it to end. She felt so free.

Her eyes were bleary and she pressed her face into Keisha’s shoulder to keep out the sunlight before giggling again. Keisha was in Jason’s bed. This was so far from how he’d probably imagined it, but still, she thought, amused, Be careful what you wish for, Jason Maddox.

“What’s so funny?” Keisha asked.

“Nothing. Everything.”

“Isn’t it strange”—Keisha rolled onto her back, looking up at the ceiling—“how people find each other? Like you and me? There was a girl back home—Dolly—but I didn’t love her. Not really. She was hard as nails. Too many sharp edges to her heart. But with you, with you I just knew that if I—if we—got a chance to get together, it would be amazing.”

“Let’s not forget that we’re both married,” Marcie said.

“Minor detail. We could always leave them. Take a settlement and run.” Keisha said it lightly, but Marcie’s stomach constricted.

“Ha, I can imagine that. Both of us working in some club or diner, too poor to party, too tired to screw. Resenting each other.”

“That’s what I like best about you, Marcie, your positive outlook on life.”

They both smiled and then lay in comfortable silence for a while, Marcie tempted to doze some more. It had been forever since she’d had a lazy, decadent day of sex and laughter in bed.

“When Billy dies, I’ll be a rich widow,” Keisha said. “You’ll want me then.”

“All the girls will want you then.” Marcie rolled over, grinning. “The boys too. I’ll have to fight them off to get to you. Or you’ll take all his money and run back to London and the bright lights of the big city.”

“No.” Keisha’s face clouded. “I’ll never go back there.” She glanced sideways at Marcie. “Did you make a wish last night?”

“What are you talking about?”

“At the thing. What the old woman said. Dr. John will grant your heart’s desire.” She said the last in an exaggerated dramatic voice, but she didn’t look like she’d found it funny.

“Don’t tell me you believe all that?” It was quite sweet to see this side of Keisha more and more. A little fragile. Childlike. Not so confident as she appeared.

“My family do.”

Marcie sat up. “Really? Voodoo? In London?”

Keisha shrugged, awkward. “Something similar. It’s all from African heritage after all. Ours was darker maybe. I guess seeing that woman like that last night, and everyone celebrating and so happy, it kind of spoke to me. Showed me the light side. So joyful. Magical. I’d never seen that before. But still . . . it scares the shit out of me.” She tucked a strand of hair behind one ear, an endearing gesture, and as the sun cut through the shutters she looked breathtakingly beautiful.

For once, Marcie’s awe wasn’t tinged with jealousy, only pure fascination. The novel strangeness of her situation. She couldn’t imagine having sex with any other woman—sex with women, faceless strangers, had only ever been a rare fantasy, nothing she’d ever wanted to actually do with anyone—but with Keisha she felt electrified and insatiable. She wanted to explore and explore and explore. Make the most of it before the inevitable end. This was something she had entirely for herself. A new secret.

When had she last felt like this? Jason, the early days. She’d even had the same thought. To get as much of him as she could before it was all over. But she’d fallen in love with Jason. He’d been her promise of a good future. Money. Comfort. Security. And maybe finally in her life, some respect. Could she now be falling in love with Keisha? What did she promise? Decadent freedom? Rebellion against them all and their constant quiet rejection of her in their inner circle?