Chapter 16

Hunter didn't call. Sinclair prowled around the house .with her camera, taking photo after photo of the backyard, of Nikki's garden, even of the unsympathetic telephone. People called, but no one she wanted to talk to. Yesterday, she thought that she had good reasons for not giving in to her feelings for Hunter, but today she couldn't think of what those reasons were. When Nikki and Xavier came home in the late afternoon with both their faces smeared by chocolate ice cream, Sinclair was still standing in the yard staring listlessly at the garden.

"What are you doing?"

Sinclair waved her camera at them. "Taking some pictures."

"Is the yard that depressing?"

"What? Oh, no." Sinclair shook her head. "I was just thinking." She dredged up a smile for Xavier. "I don't suppose you brought me any ice cream, huh?"

"We didn't think you'd be home." Nikki's smile teased her. "Leave the flowers alone and come in and help us make dinner. You're just making them sad by hovering over them like that."

Sinclair wrinkled her nose at her stepmother but followed her into the house anyway. "What are we cooking?"

"I don't know. Let's look in the cupboard and see what's here. "

Xavier went off to wash his hands and face while the two women headed into the kitchen. Nikki washed her face at the kitchen sink and used a paper towel to pat it dry.

"How was dinner last night?" she asked.

"The food was very good."

Nikki peeked at Sinclair around the door of an open cupboard. "Was Hunter?"

Sinclair felt her face grow hot but didn't rise to the bait. "Not especially, but she was pleasant company nevertheless."

"Should I make enough for her this evening?"

"I don't think so. She has a lot of work to do at home."

"Excuses, excuses." Nikki pouted. "I don't think she likes us anymore."

"You know they say that too much thinking isn't good for you." Sinclair grinned then picked up her camera from the dining table. "Let me go put up my camera then you can just order me around the kitchen. Tell me what you need me to do and I'll do it."

"Is that what you told Hunter today?" Nikki called out behind her as she walked down the hall to her room.

"Funny. Very funny."

By the time Victor came home two hours later dinner was already done. His plate lay warming in the oven and his daughter, wife, and son sat on the living room floor playing checkers and eating their dessert. He eyed the gigantic slice of rum cake sitting, half eaten, between Nikki and Sinclair.

"Did you leave any for me?" he asked and kissed his wife on the forehead.

"Nope." She tilted her mouth up for a real kiss. "But there's plenty of food for you in the kitchen."

When he left for the kitchen Nikki turned to Sinclair. "He doesn't like rum cake. Says it's too fruity."

Sinclair laughed. "He probably doesn't want to contaminate his rum with the cake."

"That's very possible," Nikki agreed, wrinkling her nose with amusement.

"King me, Clair! King me!" Xavier waved his triumphant red checker in the air at Sinclair.

His sister stuck her tongue out at him. "Fine, but I don't have to like it."

Sinclair went to bed early. At least early for her. After Nikki and her father abandoned her for their own bed, she left Xavier asleep on the pullout sofa and turned off the television.

In her room, she closed the door and undressed before slipping under the thin sheet. Hunter still hadn't called. Sinclair sighed and stared out the window, preparing herself for a restless night.

A noise at the window woke her up. Sinclair's eyes snapped open in time to see a dark shape climb over the windowsill and into the bedroom.

"What are you doing here?" She sat up, watching Hunter slip into the bed next to her.

"I've been thinking about you." Hunter shrugged off her shirt. "I can't get any work done. I needed to see you."

Her pants and underwear quickly followed, falling away to the foot of the bed. Shadows of her nakedness appeared to Sinclair, the smooth line of breast and rib, a bare throat, the shape of lips settling close.

"I was going to wait until you made the first move, until you knew that you were ready. But, you know what? You leave in two weeks. And at the rate that you're going, neither of us will get laid this year." She pressed Sinclair into the bed, her body taut with the excitement of her words. Sinclair gasped. "I know you worry that they'll hear you." Hunter pulled something from one of her discarded pockets. A bit of silk. "So I brought something for you." Her breath fluttered against Sinclair's mouth, warm and teasing. "If you don't want it, if you say no, then I'll put it away." Her hips pressed into Sinclair's. "I'll leave."

Over the throbbing of her pulse and the need singing through her body, Sinclair heard the threat and panicked. "No." She grabbed Hunter's arm. "Stay."

The first kiss was an explosion of want, of previously compressed desire expanded suddenly, catching Sinclair in a wave so powerful that it stole her breath. She clawed the thin sheet from between their bodies, anxious to feel all of Hunter, not just her provocative heat through the cotton. Soft, mewling noises left Sinclair's throat. It seemed like she'd waited so long for this. She couldn't understand why she'd denied herself this satisfaction of desire, this vicious pain.

Her mouth opened to devour and to claim the dark woman. Hunter's thigh fell between hers, pressing against the dampness that had flooded her the instant she'd seen her face at the window. The thigh flexed and she shuddered. Hunter's mouth burned her body, her mouth, her throat, the tight peaks of her breasts. She gasped and moved against the heaviness above her, sliding her palms down the sleek, muscular back and restless hips. The silk brushed her mouth.

"Should I tie you up now?" There was raw laughter in the other woman's voice, a promise that Sinclair wouldn't be able to stay quiet tonight.

They whispered softly to each other, their words a mere brush of breath against flesh, a movement of lips.

"Is that the only way you can think of to control me?"

"Control isn't the word tonight, sweetheart. I want to fuck you. Believe it or not I was pretty content without sex until you came along. But when I saw this ass-" she grabbed Sinclair's behind and lifted it hard against her thigh. Through Sinclair's breathless moan, she continued, "I knew I didn't want to be celibate anymore."

Sinclair widened her legs against the thrust of Hunter's thigh, gasping her passion into her lover's sagescented hair. Her body swam with sensation, a liquid rush that bathed her in heat, tingled her clit, made her breasts ache. A fine mist of sweat appeared on her skin.

"Then ... stop talking about it and do it."

"I don't want to break you on your first go-round."

Another trembling gasp broke through Sinclair's laughter. "You don't know what ... I can ... handle."

"We're about to find out, aren't we?"

Hunter covered Sinclair's mouth with her own, swallowing the soft, panting gasps as her thigh pumped against her lover's dripping pussy. Sinclair's belly clenched at the frantic stimulation. "Inside. Come inside."

"Not yet, baby. Not yet." Hunter's fingers plucked at her nipples, squeezing the hard points in rhythm with her thigh's movements until Sinclair grasped at her back, digging her fingers into the damp skin. Her back arched and she shuddered in Hunter's embrace, falling from the dizzying peak of orgasm with her mouth held firmly by her lover's.

As Sinclair's body quieted she noticed Hunter's hawklike stare, the brown eyes fierce on her wet mouth.

"You want something from me?" Sinclair asked.

"I wonder whatever gave you that idea."

"I don't know." Sinclair slid a hand between them to cup Hunter's pussy. Her fingers were immediately wet. She remembered what the woman tasted like, the mingled flavors of mango and salted honey. "Maybe this?"

Hunter groaned and pressed herself into Sinclair's hand. Again.

"Put those lips right here," Sinclair ordered, tapping an index finger against her own mouth.

"I thought you'd never ask." Hunter slid up Sinclair's body to crouch over her face.

"Well, technically, I didn't." Though she was ready to beg if Hunter had refused her. The sight of her woman's flesh, with its inner maze of pink and damp, made her wet her lips.

"If you're not going to put your mouth to good use, then I suggest you shut-" Hunter swallowed the rest of her words at the first touch of Sinclair's mouth.

The first taste of her was like a mouthful of clean, ocean air. Sinclair dove down for more. Deeper inside, Hunter was more substantial, like the flesh of the mango she'd eaten yesterday, wet and ripe. Juice dripped down her chin. Sinclair's tongue slid faster over the slick flesh as dark thighs widened and Hunter's hand cupped the back of her head.

"Slow down," she gasped. "I don't think that I can-" Sinclair swirled her tongue through the moist folds and held on, grabbing the clenched ass cheeks as Hunter's flesh began to pulsate against her mouth. The dark woman gasped again and tightened her fingers in Sinclair's hair, pushing her into the contracting flesh as she growled low in her throat.

"Damn." Hunter's thighs released their vice hold from around Sinclair's ears as she fell gently backward. Her hair flooded over Sinclair's belly and thighs. "That wasn't exactly my sexiest moment, huh?"

"Actually, that's the nicest compliment anyone's ever paid me."

"Sweet of you to say."

"It's OK." Sinclair rubbed her cheek against Hunter's thigh and smiled at the delicate shudders that vibrated the muscles under her skin. "You'll make it up to me."

"I will, I swear." She stretched voluptuously against Sinclair, wriggling her hips and back in delight. "That felt so damn good, though." She sighed and relieved the other woman of her weight, sliding over to lie beside her on the bed.

Sinclair's body tingled in the aftermath of pleasing Hunter. She felt swollen again, wet and ready. "I hope you're not tired." Her long fingers traced Hunter's face in the semidarkness, touching the soft cheeks and the curved lips that opened for her.

"Hm, not at all. I was just thinking the same thing about you.

"What do you have in mind?"

"I can show you better than I can tell."

"I'm all yours."

"Promises, promises." Hunter chuckled softly in the dark. "Sit here."

With Sinclair sitting on the edge of the bed, Hunter tied the silk cloth around her mouth, then knelt between her spread thighs. She leaned closer until her nose brushed the untidy curls at the top of the other woman's thighs. She drew in another breath, and kissed her. The touch of Hunter's lips was soft, a light brush against the sensitive hairs. The second kiss touched Sinclair lower, made her breath catch and hold. When Hunter lifted her head, her mouth came away wet.

"I thought the first cum would make me less hungry for you"-she licked her lips clean-"but it didn't." Hunter spread her thighs wide and slid even closer, draping one long leg over her shoulder and down her back. When her mouth touched Sinclair again her whole body jumped to attention.

Hunter's tongue stroked Sinclair with a firm, delicious pressure that sent her body into a sensual shock. Goose bumps peppered her skin, her breath shallowed, then grew loud and ragged under the silk scarf. Hunter held Sinclair apart and used her tongue to extract every ounce of sensation from her. Sinclair's legs spread wider. Hunter's head moved like a snake between her thighs, undulating with each movement of her tongue. Sinclair was warmer, then burning. Heat sprung from between her thighs to engulf and enfold her, making her legs burn and spread as wide as they could for Hunter. Slim hands hovered over the dark head, wanting to touch her rough silk hair, to spread it over her thighs, but pleasure rose up and caught her in the throat. Sinclair curled her hands in the sheets and clenched her teeth against the mewling gasps that still tumbled free.

Sinclair's breasts felt heavy and tender. She wanted Hunter's hands on them, to feel the dark woman against the swollen flesh of her nipples.

With a soft moan from beneath the silk, she grabbed Hunter's hands and put them on her breasts, panting softly as she hurled through the flames with Hunter's tongue and lips moving over her aching pussy with deep, indelicate slurps.

The springs of the mattress squeaked and groaned as her hips surged toward Hunter's mouth, begging for more. She felt sweet, overflowing with sticky cotton candy mess as her lover feasted, ate her up until she wanted to cry out, to scream, but she didn't. The silk was thin. Trapped in her own silence, Sinclair could hear the noises that Hunter made, the slurp and lick and release, that kiss and suck of lips, the soft, soft float of tongue across her clit that made her feel like fine velvet that was about to get wet.

Her hips moved mindlessly, bucking against the hungry mouth pushing her to a place that was like pain, but much, much sweeter. Her whole body was hot and sweating and focused on that one spot that Hunter devoted herself to so well. The dark woman was like a kitten with a bowl of milk, lapping her up, licking her cream-slicked thighs then back again to her throbbing pussy where she needed it most. Her body was raw and tight with sensation. It wanted. It wanted so much.

Sinclair pushed against Hunter's mouth and grabbed her hair. With a low groan, Hunter pulled Sinclair hard against her face, tumbling pillows and sheets to the floor. Sinclair dropped back against the bed, gasping. Hunter's tongue plunged inside her and the bed began to shake. She fell over the edge screaming behind the silk.

Hunter left before dawn just as the rest of the house was beginning to stir. "Call me later," she whispered to a limp Sinclair as she disappeared out the window and into the soft gray light.

The exhausted woman could only nod before rolling over and falling back deeply asleep. At some point Nikki knocked on the door asking Sinclair if she wanted to go to work with her. Sinclair could only utter a sleepy moan. Nikki must have taken it for a no, because she made a funny noise of her own and left Sinclair alone until much later in the day.

Sinclair woke up feeling tender and bruised. With a low groan she reached over to touch the source of that ache, and when her clutching hand encountered only rumpled bedsheets, she grimaced in disappointment and sat up. Why stay in bed then? She stumbled to the bathroom to begin her day.

"Did you have company last night?" Nikki asked Sinclair as the two of them sat on the verandah sharing an early evening drink. Xavier sat nearby, puzzling over his homework.

"Why do you ask?"

"I thought I heard noises coming from your room last night."

Sinclair adjusted the air in her throat. "Hunter came over for a bit."

"Ah, I see."

She probably did see, and all too clearly. Sinclair felt her face heat up, but she strove for nonchalance.

"Are we going to have her over for dinner tonight, then?"

"You're obsessing about this a bit much, aren't you?" Sinclair finally looked up from her examination of her fingers. "Did she come over when she was seeing Lydia?"

"Not really. But then Lydia doesn't live here. Last month she went with us to Dunn's River Falls, though. Even Della was there."

Sinclair winced at the thought of how Della and Lydia must have gotten along. "I can invite her over and see what she says."

"Tell her to come on the weekend so I'll have enough time to cook up something nice." Nikki's eyes twinkled.

"I'll be sure to pass on the information."

The sound of a car stopping at the front gate made them both look up. It was Lydia's Cadillac. They watched Lydia get out of the car and walk up the gravel-lined footpath. The line of flesh between her tight black jeans and blouse played peekaboo as she stepped closer.

"'Evening," she called out.

"Hey, there," the two women chorused.

Xavier grinned up from his pile of books. "Hey, Lydi."

"You two look cozy." She looked at the two women as if a conspiracy was afoot.

"Is there a reason we shouldn't?" Sinclair asked.

"Not really, it's just that it usually takes Nikki at least a year to warm up to people." She sat down on the top step and leaned back against the small stone column. "I might have gotten her to talk to me in more than two word sentences after six months. It's been less than three weeks and you two are acting like best friends."

"I like Sinclair's company." Nikki smiled at the American. "And it's not like I have a whole bunch of time to get to know her."

Sinclair shrugged and drank deeply from her glass of carrot juice. Lydia looked like she was in the mood for a confrontation. But Sinclair wasn't. That would come soon enough when she had to tell her about Hunter.

"Hm." Lydia made a vague noise of agreement then glanced up at Sinclair as if trying to figure something out.

"You want some juice?" Nikki offered from her chair.

"Sure, thank you. But no ice though."

When Nikki left for the kitchen Lydia turned to Sinclair. "I haven't seen you in a while, big sister. Did I scare you off with that craziness at Phyllis and Nance's?"

"Nope. I don't scare very easily. You just haven't come to get me. Remember, I'm not exactly mobile while I'm here."

"I'm surprised that you haven't rented a car."

Sinclair shook her head. "I don't drive."

Lydia laughed. "There you have it then, a really good excuse why I haven't seen you these past few days." She looked up as Nikki came back with her glass of carrot juice. "Thanks, Nik." She took an obligatory sip, then set the glass beside her on the tile. "So what have you been up to then?"

From the corner of her eye, Sinclair saw Nikki perk up. "Taking photos of the island, mostly. Going with Nikki to work in the mornings then hanging out with Hunter until it's time for her to go home."

"When does the fun happen?" She turned to Nikki. "No offense, Nik."

Nikki rolled her eyes. "As far as Lydia is concerned if someone's not dancing 'til the wee hours of the morning or meeting scores of eligible people then there is no good time."

"Damn right." Lydia lightly tapped Nikki's foot. "Speaking of as you put it, meeting scores of eligible people, can I kidnap you lovely ladies and gentleman"-she tugged at Xavier's naked foot-"and take you to the reggae show in Queenstown?"

The little boy squeaked, "Yes!" then looked at his mother. "Can we?"

Nikki didn't waste any time thinking about it. "Sure. Victor can fend for himself when he gets home tonight."

The fairground was packed. Its crowd, consisting of a fairly mixed group of younger and older people, seemed friendly; unlike the last time Lydia and Sinclair had been out together. Kids ran through the grassy area, chasing and calling out to each other in loud excited voices.

"We don't have to stay that long," Lydia said, linking hands with Xavier and Nikki. Sinclair tried to walk a little behind the three of them, but Nikki grabbed her hand.

"Stay close, daughter." Her eyes danced with laughter.

Sinclair squeezed her hand and smiled. "I'm all grown up, you know."

"Yeah, but you're a grown woman who could easily get lost in this mob."

Sinclair wrinkled her nose at Nikki but kept up anyway. At six in the evening the sun was still high and brilliant in the Friday sky. Vendors, with their carts overflowing with every variety of juices and desserts, lined the avenue leading to the stage. Xavier dragged his group of women toward the carts, eyeing the flaky pies and cakes with more than casual interest.

"I think he's more excited about the food than about the people onstage," Lydia said as they pulled him away from yet another stand.

"If we walked faster then he wouldn't be able to see all these goodies," Sinclair said, although she was getting tempted herself.

They sped up but had to stop when Xavier saw a group of his school friends. The couple chaperoning them looked harried, turning around every few seconds to make sure that all five of the children weren't getting into any trouble. Xavier jumped in the midst of his friends and started chattering away like a little magpie.

"My name is Alton," the man introduced himself to Nikki over the children's heads. "Father to those two, uncle to the rest." His companion hovered nearby, looking worried. "That's Kathleen over there."

"I'm Nikki. All three of these are my children."

Lydia laughed at his expression. "Stepchildren, she means. At least us two. That one over there is Sinclair. I'm Lydia."

"Good to meet you," Alton said with a smile. "I was just about to say that you don't look your age, Nikki."

"She looks every day of her twenty-two years, so don't you dare try to tell her otherwise." Lydia slipped her arm around her stepmother's waist, chortling.

"Alton, help me out here, please." Kathleen's desperate voice interrupted their lovefest.

"Excuse me." Alton went to help gather the fleeing children.

"Come on, Xavie. You can visit with your friends later." Nikki took his hand and waved at Alton and his brood, then they were off again.

"They were nice people," Nikki said.

"Yeah, that Alton guy kept staring at your breasts the whole time."

"Shh!" Nikki shushed Lydia, pointing to her son.

"Sorry to burst your parental bubble, but he already knows what breasts are."

"He does not!" She looked at Sinclair for support, but her stepdaughter merely shrugged and walked ahead.

Lydia grinned and gave her brother a hundred-dollar bill to buy the ice-cream cake he was so obviously ogling. They all waited while he got his cake and the change before forging their way through the crowd to get to the main stage.

Two hours later, with darkness coming swiftly on the heels of the falling sun, they piled into the convertible and headed for home.

"That was the best!" Xavier hopped up and down in the backseat, straining against his seatbelt. "Spragga jumped so high and sing so fast!"

"That's what he got paid to do." Lydia guided the car through traffic, smiling.

"We had a really good time, Lydia," Nikki said, resting her fingers lightly on her son's neck. "Thanks for coming by to get us."

"No problem."

Lydia seemed to have needed the distraction of their company as much as Xavier had needed this outing. She looked a little tired.

"Everything been all right with you, Lydia?"

"Good. Everything is good." She looked back at Nikki in the rearview mirror as if still trying to convince her.

At home they put Xavier and Nikki to bed, poured two glasses of something stronger than carrot juice and sat on the verandah. Sinclair was the first to speak.

"So is everything really OK, Lydia?"

"Not really. But you know people are always saying that, if you say that something is, then it will be."

"Right." Sinclair was unconvinced. "So what's wrong?"

"You know that Hunter and I broke up last week, right?"

Sinclair stiffened. Had it only been a week? "I didn't know for sure, but I suspected when Papa made such a big deal about you not bringing her to the beach cookout."

"Did you?" Lydia sipped her Grand Marnier. "I guess I wasn't being as subtle as I thought."

"What happened?"

"The details aren't that important. We hadn't really been talking for a few days, then I tracked her down at the party to get some things out in the air. I let it slip about why I couldn't let her touch me and she broke it off." She sighed. "I thought I'd be relieved, but I'm not."

"Do you want her back?"

"No. It's not even that. She's the best looking woman on this island. The most eligible dyke bachelor so to speak, but I-" she sighed. "I do want her back."

"Does she know that?"

"No, not yet. But I'm going to let her know this week."

"Don't you think you're being a little flighty?"

"What do you mean? It's a woman's prerogative to change her mind, isn't it?"

"Not when it means jerking somebody around emotionally." Would Hunter jump at the chance to have Lydia back if she was willing to put out?

They both looked up as the door opened and Nikki came out of the house rubbing her eyes. She had the telephone in her hand. "It's for you, Sinclair."

"Thanks. Excuse me, Lydia."

She took the phone and walked into the house behind Nikki. The younger woman slid her a quick look but said nothing before disappearing into her bedroom door.

"Hello?"

"You didn't call."

Sinclair leaned back against the kitchen wall, smiling stupidly. "Is that why you tracked me down?"

"I was going to come over, but I thought two nights in a row might be a little bit much."

"A bit much for what?" Sinclair's voice was breathless, low. She forgot about Lydia waiting for her on the verandah.

"Not that. Definitely not that. I just didn't want to turn your father's house into my personal playroom."

"Logic. Sometimes it sucks." She took a trembling breath. "I want to see you. In the daylight. I know you have work to do, though."

"That's what all-nighters are for."

"I thought we already had one of those."

"Very funny, Ms. Sinclair. Tomorrow. I can pick you up tomorrow. We can spend the day together, go sightseeing or something."

Sightseeing? "That sounds fine."

"Don't sound so excited. I'll make it worth your while."

"I'm sure you will." She heard a noise from outside. "By the way, Lydia is here."

"She's not invited on our field trip."

"She-oh, never mind. I guess she'll talk to you about it herself. I'm not going to get in the middle of things." Though it might be a little late for that.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it. I'll see you tomorrow."

Hunter made a rude noise. "Fine. Tomorrow."

She hung up the phone and went back out to Lydia.

"Hmm, you certainly look sparkly and new," her sister said, raising her glass. "Must have been quite a phone call."

"It was." Sinclair picked up her glass and took a sip. "So what are you up to for the rest of the night?"

After a smirking look she shrugged. "I hadn't really thought about it beyond the visit here. I've been seeing a woman in the valley on and off, so I might go see her tonight. She's always good for a bit of fun."

"So you want Hunter and this girl, too? What's that about?"

"Don't be so judgmental, Sinclair. This woman was giving me what I couldn't get from Hunter. It was never emotional between us."

"And that makes it all right?"

"It does, believe me. I'm sure Hunter is getting her kitty stroked by someone else. She isn't moping around waiting for me. Della's probably never stopped getting her regular dose of Hunter in the two years since she's been here."

"That's not fair. Just because you've been cheating on the relationship doesn't mean that Hunter had been too."

"Why do you care so much anyway? You don't know Hunter well enough to know that she wouldn't cheat on me. According to the dyke news around here, when Hunter and Della were together they were all over each other. Della was always letting everybody know how she was getting her sex, how often, and how good it was. If all that was true, how could she give that up?"

Sinclair resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I don't know. Like you said, you've known these people longer than I have so your guess is much better than mine." She stood, draining the rest of her drink. "I'm going to turn in for the night."

"Isn't it a little early for you?"

Sinclair's evil twin spoke up. "Usually, but I didn't get much sleep last night."

After Lydia left, Sinclair stayed on the verandah a little longer, absorbing the night's quiet and the faint twinges of unease she felt about her sister and Hunter. She blinked at the moon wondering if this was what they called dyke drama?

Sinclair rode the early morning bus that Nikki normally rode to work. This time she was alone, sitting up front near the driver so she wouldn't pass her stop. Her fellow passengers were silent, swaying in an early morning stupor with the bus's movements, staring straight ahead or out the open windows at the passing landscape.

"Here you go, miss." The driver stopped the bus and pointed down the road. "Take that road to the left and it will take you straight to Rincon Street."

"Thanks." She got off the bus and stepped away from the road to wait for it to pass on its way higher up the hill. This was a stop below where Nikki usually got off and, according to the driver, should get her to Hunter's street faster. Ten minutes later, she knocked at Hunter's door. It was six thirty in the morning.

"Don't you look all touristy," Hunter said when she opened the door.

Sinclair grinned and twirled on the doorstep, giving her a glimpse of her loose floral sundress and the matching wide brimmed hat she wore tilted low over one eye.

"I came early on the off chance that you were here and awake. I hope you don't mind."

"Not even a little bit." Hunter tugged her into the house and kissed her quickly on the mouth, lending Sinclair the faint flavor of mint tea from her tongue. "Come in."

Hunter waved her into the hallway and into the immaculate living room. "I'm doing some work in the study. Give me ten minutes to wrap up and I'll be right back."

"Take your time." Sinclair dropped her hat and bag on the coffee table. When Hunter came back almost a half an hour later, she was propped up on the sofa with her shoes off, reading a history book about the Nanny and the Maroons.

"Did I mention how great you look?" Hunter asked, dropping to her knees beside the sofa.

"No, not yet." Sinclair marked her page with the attached red ribbon and set the book aside.

"Well, let me just say," she kissed Sinclair's knee, "that you look," then the other, "fabulous." Hunter's mouth pressed briefly against the top of her thighs. "Do you feel like breakfast?"

"Like being breakfast?" Sinclair's thighs parted slightly at the thought. "Or having breakfast with you?"

"Either. Both." Hunter put her arms around Sinclair's hips and drew her to the edge of the couch. "You pick, food or fucking." Hunter nibbled on her pouty lower lip.

"What do you think?" She slid her legs around Hunter's waist. "Feed me." Laughter bubbled easily to her lips.

"Slut." Hunter tasted her mouth again. "Come into the kitchen and help me."

Between the two of them they managed to put together a more than decent meal. Meaning that Sinclair provided distracting pinches and kisses to Hunter's butt, back, and neck while the besieged woman made scrambled eggs, seasoned potatoes, and hominy corn porridge flavored with coconut milk, nutmeg, and vanilla.

"You are so useful," Sinclair said later as they sat at the kitchen table sharing their breakfast. "Talented hands for every room in the house. I like that."

"I hope you can show me just how much. Later on." Hunter blew her a kiss over a spoonful of porridge.

After breakfast the dark woman showered and dressed, then they left the house to go on the promised sightseeing trip.

"This is going to be fun," Hunter insisted as they drove up the hill toward Fairfax Castle. The national landmark was a place referred to in all the guidebooks as exotic and mysterious, and one of the most beautiful lookout spots on the island.

"Some Englishman apparently built the place in the image of his ancestral home, complete with stone walls, servants quarters, and a little upstairs prison for his certifiable wife." At Sinclair's startled expression, Hunter laughed. "I'm not even joking. It says so right there in the guidebook. Look." She pointed to the folded brochure in Sinclair's hands. "And the best part is that they have tours of the place every two hours."

"I didn't figure you for a history buff, Miss High-Tech."

"Oh, I am. And so much more." She chuckled and guided the jeep farther up the mountain.

Hunter was right. The view was breathtaking. From the top of Mount Rosanna to sea level the marker said it was 1,219 meters. Sinclair did a quick mental calculation. That was about 4,000 feet. Below them sat a sprawling vista of jungle plants, exotic houses built into the mountainside, and far, far out, the sea. They stood at the entrance to the castle, giggling like teenagers at the booth where a tiny man with tired eyes took their money and gave them flimsy paper tickets in return. He wore a drooping version of some sort of British uniform, dark blue with red stripes down the sides of the trousers that disappeared into knee-high black boots. Hunter dragged her away to follow the crowd walking away from them up the stone path to tour the tumble-down structure.

The place really was gorgeous, with long arches of marble marking each doorway, and thick green vines that slid up through all this impervious rock. It was a fairy-tale house, one that had more in the way of beauty than practicality. The beauty came from nature, the elements that had over time slipped in uninvited to make the marble and stone warmer, more approachable and photographable.

The tour guide, who introduced herself as Mavis, reminded Sinclair of one of her old teachers with her thick, flyaway hair pulled back into a bun and the dark-rimmed glasses shoved high on her nose.

"She's kinda sexy, isn't she?" Hunter whispered behind her.

"Stop it, she reminds me of the teacher I had in basic school."

The dark woman snickered. "You wanted to lick all over her, didn't you?"

"Shh! She's saying important things."

"This was built in the late seventeen hundreds when Lord Braithwaite realized that he would never be able to leave Jamaica for good." The woman's proper English and curvy behind really did make her very appealing. "Come with me upstairs-" Mavis's voice faded away under the sound of treading feet as she and the crowd of sightseers disappeared up the stone staircase.

"Doesn't that ass just make you want to follow it anywhere?" Hunter palmed Sinclair's ass from behind then stepped close briefly to press her breasts against her back.

"You are not nice," Sinclair murmured, rushing to catch up with the group. But it was too late, she didn't hear a thing the woman said. All her awareness was focused on Hunter, on her warmth behind her, the teasing hands that touched and fondled when no one was looking. They drifted higher into the stone castle until they stood in the madwoman's bedroom. Time and a cannon blast had opened up most of the room to the mountain air. Off the main room was a smaller anteroom with only two and a half of its walls remaining, one with barred windows looking down at the shifting waves of jungle greenery and the sea beyond it. In a back room that was only the size of a walk-in closet, there was more open space. The sky above radiated a brilliant blue.

"Down there," Hunter pointed to a speck of white in the distance, "is where I was born. In my Aunt Eunice's house. I came too soon so they had to make some adjustments."

"And you've been shaking things up ever since then, right?"

"How did you know?" Hunter chuckled and turned back to Mavis.

The tour guide pointed out the woman's mad scribblings that neither time nor war had diminished, scribblings that were etched deep into thick walls that would have made it impossible for anyone to hear her screams or her angry recriminations against the husband who had brought her here away from her genteel society in England. Mavis's matter-of-fact recounting of the woman's madness sent a collective shudder through the group of tourists. They could well imagine being isolated from their comforts, forced to tolerate primitive conditions.

"Does that make you shudder too, Ms. American?" Hunter asked.

"Not especially."

"Then what would?"

The question trickled down Sinclair's spine and settled firmly in the cradle of her hips.

"All right, ladies and gentlemen." Mavis paused at the top of the stairs. "Our next destination is the former slave quarters, a place that the mistress, as well as the master of this house, visited at regular intervals."

The group trooped down the stairs after her. Hunter grabbed Sinclair's hand when she started to follow.

"There's something she forgot to show you," she said.

Sinclair smiled. "What's that?"

"This." Hunter pulled her into the circle of her arms and kissed her.

"But I've already seen that."

"Really? How about this?" She pressed her hips against Sinclair's and the slighter woman pushed back, sighing in the rising heat from Hunter's body. Then she felt the extra thickness, a hard length where the woman's softness should have been. Sinclair hissed. "Well? Do you want it?"

Oh. "Yes."

Hunter kissed her again then pulled her away from the stairs, toward the small back room with its barred windows and glimpse of paradise. Sinclair's body was wet with anticipation.

"They won't come up here, don't worry."

Sinclair wasn't worried. It didn't matter if the whole group of tourists came back, as long as Hunter fulfilled the promise in her trousers.

"Hold on to the bars," the dark woman instructed. "Please." Her breath tickled the back of Sinclair's neck.

Sinclair shuddered at the sound of Hunter's zipper. She bit her lip. Fireflies danced through her stomach, slipping down between her thighs as Hunter's long fingers moved her dress out of the way.

"I only want you to feel good," her lover whispered behind her. "Do you understand?"

"Yes. God, yes."

Cool mountain air washed over Sinclair's naked ass and between her parted thighs. Hunter touched her wetness, the drip of want that already coated her thighs. She sighed her delight into Sinclair's neck and palmed a soft breast through the dress. Then slid the dildo deeply, firmly into her. Sinclair gasped and arched her back to take more of the fullness.

"Thank you," she breathed.

Their breaths shivered together and a deep shudder traveled through their bodies as Hunter began to move. Sinclair was a mass of tingling, hyperstimulated nerves, slick and hot as Hunter slipped into her shallows and depths, creating exquisite friction. She moved against Sinclair's tightening ass, and breathed against her neck while Sinclair stood, legs braced apart, fingers clenched around the bars of the window. Her sweat-slick palms amplified the metallic smell of the bars, searing it forever in her sense memory. Sweat and sex and iron and Hunter.

Sinclair's body was prickling, aching, and wet. Hunter whispered her name and she breathed quickly, begging her not to stop. She didn't. Her hips moved faster, rushing to meet hers with a slap of flesh that made her gasp and push back into her.

Though buried in sensation, Sinclair thought she heard footsteps. Her body tensed and, despite her earlier bravado, fear of being caught ricocheted through her body. She tried to push Hunter away, but the other woman held her, trapped between the wall and her body. Her hips moved jackhammer fast against Sinclair. She felt Hunter groan against her back, then the dark woman overflowed like a river bursting free of its dam and washed her clean.

Hunter's fingers loosened from Sinclair's thighs and she slowly withdrew. Limp and still trembling, Sinclair could only brush her dress down and blink, panting, at the landscape beyond the bars. When she could walk again, she turned around. Hunter had already gotten herself together and was staring at the walls as if absorbed in the dead madwoman's fevered writing.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

"Whenever you are." Hunter dipped her head to kiss Sinclair's throat then stepped back to allow her lover to walk ahead of her. "I'm starving. Let's go find something to satisfy my other hunger, hm?"

They went to lunch, back to Celestial. This time Hyacinth wasn't there, but Hunter's cousin was. He looked up from the cash register, slim and dark with glowing gold eyes and Hunter's saturnine mouth.

"Hey, Cliff."

"Hunter! Hey, baby." They shared a long hug. "You look good. And it looks like you're running with a better class of company too." He winked at Sinclair.

The restaurant was crowded, both inside and out, but Cliff found them a table on the patio.

"You going to the family barbeque next week?" he asked.

"I think so. I haven't seen a lot of those guys in weeks."

"Good. So if I don't get the chance to come back out I'll see you there then."

"Later, cuz."

He turned to kiss Sinclair's hand. "I hope to see you again, fair Sinclair." Cliff disappeared back into the busy restaurant.

"The people in your family are unusually attractive," Sinclair said.

"What does that mean?" Hunter looked up from her menu. "You think we sold our collective soul to the devil for these looks?"

Sinclair laughed. "The thought hadn't occurred to me, but now that you mention it, I do smell the stink of brimstone on you.

"Is that what you call it?" Hunter leaned closer. "I could have sworn it was Sinclair's cum."

"Stop it." She blushed and slapped at her lover's knee.

The waitress arrived at their table. "Can I get you ladies anything to drink today?"

"Some manners for her." Sinclair pointed to her unrepentant lunch companion who gave her a lazy smile for her trouble.

"I'm a waitress, miss, not a miracle worker." The woman grinned at Hunter. She obviously knew her well.

"What's going on, Dee?"

"Hey, bad woman." She smiled at Hunter, flirtatious and familiar. "You see Cliff yet?"

"I was just telling him how nice and crowded the place looks."

"Yeah, and most of them are good tippers too."

"I'll remember that."

Dee slipped back inside the restaurant after taking their order for drinks.

"She wants you," Sinclair giggled.

"Already had me. I'm sure she's over it by now."

Sinclair hid her surprise at that bit of information. "I bet she's not."

"Unfortunately not everyone is as enthusiastic and delighted about my attentions as you." Hunter grinned. "Then again, maybe it's not so unfortunate. I could only handle this kind of chemistry only once per lifetime."

When the waitress reappeared Sinclair looked at her more carefully, noting her high, generous ass as she leaned over the table with their drinks, the full bosom, and the coltish wildness of her movements. Dee was young. Younger than Lydia, but she was definitely all woman.

"Are you trying to make Dee nervous or something?" Hunter asked.

"No. Why?"

"You look like you're evaluating her as a prospect for an afternoon of hot sex."

"Oh, please. I was just trying to see what your type of woman is."

Hunter snorted with laughter. "That should be fairly obvious to you by now."

"Yes, it is. You're an ass woman."

"That's true. Any other key observations?"

"Nothing remarkable, but I'll let you know."

"Do that." Hunter sipped her water. "What about you, Miss Cool and Collected. What kind of woman do you like? What's your type?"

"I'm not sure if I have a type. You're only the second woman I've been with."

Hunter leaned back in surprise. "What about the first one, then? The bitch from the city?"

"Regina is . . . " Sinclair's voice trailed off as she tried to recall images of Regina that she could tie descriptions to. "She's thin. With a take-charge kind of attitude."

Hunter rolled her eyes. "Does she wear pants or dresses?"

"Both," Sinclair grinned. "But mostly skirts."

"And she came after you?"

"Yes."

Hunter leaned across the table and lowered her voice. "That cool exterior of yours is very seductive. It's a wonder that some intrepid dyke hadn't tried to climb onto your face before then."

Sinclair snorted.

"That sound, however, was not seductive."

Sinclair blew a raspberry at her lover then, noticing Dee's return, leaned back in her chair so that the waitress had enough space to maneuver their food onto the table. Sinclair blew Hunter a kiss over the waitress's ass.

That evening Sinclair beat everyone home and surprised them all with dinner. Steamed fish, stewed chicken, butter simmered corn, and an iced pitcher of Grace's Calypso Punch fresh from the can.

"Did you make all this?" Nikki asked after her first mouthful.

"Of course not. It's restaurant takeout."

Victor laughed. "Even I knew better than to ask that question, Nik." He reached for his glass of punch. "Good job, daughter. No matter how the food got here, thank you. I don't think anybody in this house wanted to cook tonight."

"I did," Xavier said from his chair, raising his hand high as if he was still in class.

"I stand corrected," Victor said.

"What's the occasion?" Nikki's smile was pure mischief.

Sinclair ignored it. "None at all. I just thought how nice it would be for someone besides the two ... uh, three of you cooked for once. And since I wasn't about to set anything on fire, then a restaurant meal seemed the perfect thing."

"You're a brilliant and perceptive woman," Victor said, raising his glass.

"So I've been told."

After dinner, Victor and Xavier stayed in the kitchen to wash the dishes, then do homework while Nikki and Sinclair went for a walk around the neighborhood.

"You look happy," Nikki said as soon as they left the house.

"I am. It's a little scary."

"Since when is happiness a scary thing?"

"Since I know it's going to end when I leave here. And, even more important, because I've found it with my sister's ex-girlfriend."

"Agh!" Nikki made a dismissive motion. "No one cheated on anybody so it should all be fine. As for the long-distance thing, I know people who've made it work."

"But I'm not that naive. I know that there are plenty of women on the island. A lot of them much more appealing than I am, and very willing to satisfy Hunter's desires. I would never want her to deny herself because of me. That was something that Lydia did and despite our similar looks we're definitely not the same woman."

"No one ever said you were the same person. Calm down." They walked in silence. "What if Hunter wanted to make a long-distance thing work?"

"She wouldn't. Trust me." Sinclair stopped. "Listen, can we talk about something else for a while? This whole subject of my sex life is a little boring right now."

"Fine, fine." Silence. "So when are you going to tell Lydia about you and Hunter?"