Tuesday

Emily woke to the smell of coffee. She sat up and thanked Elena, who handed her a cup.  She took a couple of sips, then handed it back so she could get out of bed. Elena put it on the table and turned to greet Emily with a kiss.  Emily pulled her back, and they both fell onto the bed, giggling. They pulled at each other's clothes, baring intimate skin. Emily straddled Elena’s head and bent over, supporting her weight on one arm. With the other, she parted Elena’s legs, dipped her head, and licked Elena’s quim. Elena pulled Emily down, reciprocating the oral stimulation.

Emily slid two fingers inside Elena as she gently licked her clit. Neither felt the need to race; they slowly built the other up.  Hips thrust in response to fingers and tongues. Emily felt it was building, that exquisite release just out of reach. She groaned as Elena slid a finger inside, seeking the spongy G-Spot.

“God! Emily shrieked, every nerve firing at once.

Bliss started from her pussy and spread like wildfire. “Ungh ungh,” she groaned and collapsed, her weight fully on Elena.  She recovered and attacked Elena’s pussy with fingers and tongue, determined to make her  cum just as hard. It took only a few minutes, and Elena’s hips began to buck. “

“Oh, Em... Emmm... EMILY.” Elena didn’t shout or be loud; it was low, like a growl. Her body vibrated, then was still. Emily reversed and lay next to Elena, and they kissed, sharing each other’s taste.

Elena stroked Emily’s face. “Oh, Emily,” she breathed, eyes slightly unfocused.

Emily softly kissed the tip of Elena’s nose. “I love you.”  

They got out of bed, ate the now-cold breakfast, and showered.

The couple cleaned up and walked the beach, talking about Miami, themselves, and their likes and dislikes. Emily was certain she was in love. Elena was certain she was putting Emily in danger, yet her feelings for the young author would not let her walk away.

They stopped and watched surfers riding the waves.

“Do you surf?” Emily asked, not turning to Elena.

“Charlie Don’t Surf.” Elena sang the refrain from the song as her answer.

Emily turned, a smile growing wide on her face.  “I love the Clash! I like New Wave music so much!”

Elena took in the delight on Emily’s face.  “I don’t know it that well. You will have to educate me.”

“Then we need to talk to the concierge.” Elena was literally dragged back to the hotel.

To Emily’s delight, the band Berlin, riding high with Take My Breath Away, was making a national tour. They were playing in The Knight Theater, with OMD and the Psychedelic Furs.

The concierge was able to get great tickets. The couple spent the day searching for the perfect outfits. It should have been a wonderful day, except Elena spotted a man with a crew cut several times. As lunch approached, Elena suggested a Peruvian restaurant. They walked to a small, intimate restaurant, where the hotel concierge had made reservations. It was a joy to share as they talked through the meal. Emily told Elena about growing up in a small town, then moving to California when she was young, finishing her degree, and how she had been drawn to Massaqua Falls, where she witnessed the town’s death.

​Elena took her hand. “And you wrote a magnificent book. The town may be gone, but it will be remembered because of you.” Something caught Elena’s eye: too many men in suits, too much tension. She recognized a face. Elena dug into her purse and tossed $200 on the table. She grabbed Emily’s wrist and pulled her out of the booth. “We must go, now.” Her voice was low and urgent.​

They slipped out the door and were just clear of the parking lot when five Metro-Dade and two Bal Harbour squad cars descended on the cafe. There was a rush of uniforms, and the couple watched in fascination as the men were dragged out in handcuffs.

Emily noticed the dark look on Elena's face.  

“Tell me what is wrong.”

Elena shook her head, centering herself, and offered Emily a smile.

“Nothing. I just saw a bad situation and got us out.”

Back in Emily’s room, they stood, Elena holding Emily tight.

​One of Elena’s kisses brushed the corner of Emily’s mouth. Emily turned into the kiss with her own, suddenly passionate. Adrenaline pumped into Emily’s bloodstream, and a white-hot passion ignited. She pulled at Elena’s clothes and her own. They fell back on the bed, Emily first, Elena following. There was rough sex, Emily the aggressor, her fingers almost painfully slamming into Elena’s body. Emily ground her overheating pussy on Elena’s knee. Em slid down, her lips sealing themselves against Elena’s vulva, tongue probing and tasting. It was as if the visceral passion were flowing from Emily into Elena. Muscles contracted, Elena’s nails digging into Emily’s shoulders. Elena erupted, her thighs squeezing Emily between them, and a low feline growl escaped Elena’s throat.

​Emily moved up Elena’s body, her mouth on Elena’s. She grabbed Elena’s hand and pressed it against her burning cunt, humping it hard. Elena slid two fingers inside Emily, thrusting hard and fast, responding to her lover’s need. Emily rose, as the waves of heat overwhelmed her.

“Love me, love me,” she moaned, the white-hot tears falling on Elena’s neck. Emily froze, her eyes boring into Elena’s. “Love Me.” It was a whisper and a demand. Deliberately, Emily kissed Elena deeply. The hormones coursing through her body cooled, and Emily collapsed next to Elena, falling limp. Several minutes passed; Emily moaned semiconscious. ​Emily bolted upright, heart pounding.

She glanced down. Elena was awake, on her side, watching over her.

​“What the…” She sank down, shivering. Elena pulled a blanket over them both and hugged Emily against herself.

​After Emily recovered from her intense orgasm, they showered and changed for the concert. Gone were the young adult professionals. The mirror reflected wild makeup, off-the-shoulder and net tops, and black leather. Elena squeezed into leather pants a size too small, the black top covered with a neon pink net. Her hair was teased up and over, held in place by a lot of hairspray. Black ankle boots completed the outfit. Black lipstick, heavy black eyeliner, a white powder base with overdone blush completed the garish look.  

Emily wore a nude bra under a green neon net crop top, and silver lycra shorts. Her hair was teased up and swept to the left, again held firmly with hairspray. Her makeup was streaks of pink and green from her cheeks toward her ears, heavy green eyeshadow, and black eyeliner.  She applied lipstick that was the same shade of pink as her makeup. The concert was loud, flashy, and fun. Years later, Emily would recall that all three bands were at the top of their game. Emily had come prepared. She made eye contact with a roadie and handed him a program and a Sharpie. She fibbed and said it was her birthday, and he would get $ 25 for every band member's signature.

The night spun by, dancing, singing (badly), and kissing, not just Elena; she found herself in the arms of a couple of other concertgoers. After the last encore, just before they left the stage, the three singers from the bands came out and together wished Emily a happy birthday. Emily went into shock, not expecting that acknowledgment. The Roadie appeared and handed her the signed program. He refused all but 50 dollars, admitting he enjoyed twisting tails to get the signatures for such a pretty birthday girl.

oOo

“So, birthday girl, how old are you now?” Elena asked from the bathroom as she scrubbed off the makeup.  Emily, who was flooding her clothes, stepped into the bathroom, wearing only an impish smile.

“Twenty-seven.”

Elena sat on the toilet, presumably to let Emily wash, but grabbed the blonde’s wrist and pulled her over her knees. Emily shrieked as a well-placed slap landed on her upturned ass. She laughed, cried, and shouted as the spank was followed by 26 more. By the time Elena delivered the twenty-eighth and final ‘to grow on’ swat, Emily was moaning.

She stood and held out her hand, helping Elena to her feet.

“Fuck me, Elena. Don’t make love to me, Fuck me. Use me.” She stepped out to retrieve the strap harness. She scrubbed her face as Elena donned the sex toy. She led Elena to the bed, and climbed on, on all fours. Elena wordlessly felt Emily to make sure she was wet enough, then drove the dildo home. Her hands held Emily’s hips, and they slammed into each other.

The only spoken words were the occasional “harder” and “God Yes.”

Emily came, shuddering, and her face met the pillow. Elena did not relent, driving the rubber cock into her lover at a new angle.  Emily rapidly built for another orgasm, and when she did, Elena pulled her away from the headboard. She flipped Emily to her back and straddled the blonde’s face.

Emily began by lapping up Elena’s wetness, her tongue driving into the older woman’s pussy, and then she pried the asskcheeks further apart and rimmed Elena’s asshole. This got a moan from Elena, and Emily pointed her tongue, driving it through the muscular sphincter.  As she tongue fucked the love of her life, Emily slid two fingers into Elena’s dripping quim, seeking the G-spot.  A scream of pleasure tore from Elena’s throat as her pussy gushed, coating Emily’s hand and chin. They went to the shower and made love under the hot spray. Emily was glowing and did not see the look of regret on Elena’s face.

Wednesday

Em awoke in the morning light. Elena was gone. She slipped out of bed and showered, then returned to the bedroom. She noticed a note lying on the dresser.

Emily—

I’m sorry I didn’t wake you to say this. That would have made it harder, and I couldn’t handle it. What happened isn’t your fault. I recognized the men in the restaurant, and one recognized me. That put you in peril. I didn’t lie when I said I work in logistics. I move things so they arrive where they’re needed, intact. Sometimes that means money. Sometimes it means people. Today, it means leaving.

You did nothing wrong by wanting more truth. You were brave to ask. That courage is one of the things that makes staying dangerous for me, because I would stay. And staying would have put a target on you that is unacceptable. Please believe this: leaving is for your protection. It’s the last clean move I have.

Don’t wait for me. Don’t look for me. Don’t turn this into a mystery you feel responsible for solving. What matters already happened. It was real. It counts.

Live. Move forward. Write. Be warm. Wear linen in the sun. Drink water before you think you need it. Thank you for trusting me with your heart. I carried it carefully. I am still carrying it—just not where it can be used against you.

​I never said it to you, and now I regret it.

I Love You

Elena.

Emily’s tears fell on the paper.

Emily dressed and rushed to Elena’s room, where a housekeeper was cleaning it.

She went to the lobby and asked the clerk,

​“Elena Kessler?”

The young man shrugged. “Checked out 20 minutes ago.”

​Emily stepped outside, searching in vain. The bellhop came over. “If you are looking for your friend, she got a cab to the marina.”

She flagged a passing taxi. “The Marina.”  She pushed a 50 at the driver. The dock was bedlam. The slip where Elena had said her boyfriend kept his boat was ablaze. She tried to get closer, but a policeman stopped her. Panic gripped Emily, and she tried to get by.

“I think my friend was on there!” Emily screamed.  

She struggled in his arms. A plainclothes detective approached. She took Emily by the arm and sat her down. She wrote down Emily’s name, address, and phone number, and asked for details. Emily explained that Elena had checked out and come to the marina. The officer took out a plastic bag. The locket was inside. Emily burst into tears. The woman beckoned another officer.

“Tentative ID, Elena Kessler.” She stayed with Emily until the blonde stopped crying.

She pressed the locket into Emily’s hand. “Seems like I lost this evidence in all the commotion.”

Numb, Emily went back to the hotel. She called her agent, canceling all events. Emily Calder checked out of the Bal Harbour, and K.C. Harrow went to the airport, leaving Miami behind.