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a quietly stunned Rosalind bouncing from an aching tenderness to a
barely withheld lust.
It was the first time Taryn had been so close to naked with her. It
was close, but still far enough that Rosalind could barely see the shore.
Rosalind couldn t stop looking at her the naked length of her legs, the
tattoo of a winged lion on her right thigh, the muscle bunching as she
shifted in her sleep. Lean hips were seductively draped in the boxers,
a veil drawn across the mystery. All the time they had been together,
Taryn had gently but firmly moved her hands away whenever Rosalind
reached to undress her. That had worked, but Rosalind was determined
not to be put off forever.
She loved Taryn s body the feel of her muscled arms, the width
of her shoulders, the span of her hands. She wanted to be able to touch
her, bring her the kind of pleasure she so willingly gave. She knew that
she d have to be patient. She d been around Taryn enough to recognize
a stubborn streak a mile wide. She would have to be talked out of her
boxers an inch at a time. Wonder if it s all butch girls, a cultural thing,
or just some of them?
There was something there she didn t understand yet, something
she knew she d come up against. It might be something bruised inside,
it might be something else, but she wanted to know. She wanted to
make Taryn her lover, in all that implied. Taryn slept on, innocent of the
plotting done over her sleeping body.  My sweet bad boy, Rosalind
whispered, and kissed her brow.
Taryn woke in the morning to find Rosalind walking in with a
soup-bowl-sized coffee mug. She handed it to Taryn with a smile of
triumph on her face.
" 82 "
Of Drag Kings & the Wheel of Fate
 I went out and bought a French press and some new mugs. Just in
case, Rosalind said, unable to reduce the size of her grin. Lord, I must
look like a lunatic. She debated telling Taryn about the new bathrobe
that hung on the back of the door, the toothbrush and set of towels, all
purchased just in case.
Taryn sipped at the coffee like a leopard testing a water hole.  This
is good. From Spot? she asked, giving her approval.
Rosalind smiled brilliantly.  Mhm. Thought it was your favorite.
 You pay attention. There was no mistaking the note of approval
in Taryn s voice.
Taryn slid over on the bed and slapped her hand down, requesting
Rosalind to join her.
She did, crawling up next to Taryn, her hand dropping on Taryn s
thigh. She traced the winged lion idly.  I thought you invited me up to
see all your tattoos. Now I find one I haven t seen.
 I didn t say when. There s still one I have saved for a special
occasion.
 Like when? Rosalind asked, knowing she was teasing but unable
to stop.
 Soon, I think, Taryn said, her eyes chips of sapphire over the
white rim of the mug.
Rosalind pulled up at the Metro stop. Taryn had refused a ride
home and requested a lift to the subway. She seemed easy, not twitching
with restlessness, but Rosalind was afraid that was coming. She glanced
repeatedly at Taryn, at her proud profile in the early morning light, at
the relaxed way she slumped her long body in the seat. Taryn looked
like the picture of ease, but Rosalind thought it might be deceptive ease.
Like a panther before it breaks your neck, she thought, then wondered
if that made her a gazelle or a wildebeest. She shook her head to clear
it, then felt Taryn s hand massaging her neck.
 You re shaking. You okay?
 I m fine. Just wondering if I m a gazelle, or& never mind.
Rosalind took a deep breath, preparing herself for the girl s exit. Lord,
one quiet night with her, and you think she s tamed? Ros, get a grip! her
mind howled at her. Taryn wasn t someone who could be domesticated.
She probably never has more than coffee with her new friends. An
" 83 "
SUSAN SMITH
image of Taryn hopping from bed to bed, surviving on coffee and a raw
charm, watching the sun rise from a different window every morning
paraded through Rosalind s head.
 Hey. You in there? Your eyes keep glazing over, Taryn asked
her, tightening her grip on Rosalind s neck.
 Yeah, yeah, I m fine. I m good. Peachy, Rosalind stammered,
lost in the open regard. I m fine, just don t sit so close. You re percolating
my hormones&
 I ll still see you at eight tonight, right? You re not having second
thoughts? Taryn sounded earnest.
 I ll be there with bells on, Rosalind promised. Bells, on a
gazelle? I m turning into Dr. Seuss.
 There s a mental picture. Taryn opened the car door, looking
at Rosalind with hooded eyes. Thoughts swam across her face and
vanished, too fast for Rosalind to follow. That s what it looks like when
she realizes I m too old, or boring, or
Taryn threw herself across the seat, pinning Rosalind back. It was
like the strike of a panther, no warning, and Rosalind found herself
being kissed with a ferocity, an urgency she never would have read
from Taryn s face. Rosalind shifted to catch up with Taryn s mercurial
mood, abandoning all nagging thoughts and diving into the kiss. It was
unlike any kiss Taryn had given her or she had given in return.
The passion that lurked just below the surface was familiar, the
madness threatening to overtake them, but the kiss was a plea, an
emotional baring of the soul, an offering. Taryn was giving herself in
that kiss, not seeking to rouse her body into a response. Taryn kissed her
like her soul would fall out of her mouth if she moved away. Rosalind
thought she could start to hear Taryn s thoughts with that kiss, hear the
uncertainty lingering beneath them.
Taryn finally pulled back like leaving Rosalind s lips was an agony
she had to endure. Her large hands held Rosalind s head captive, staring [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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