11
Lila sits across from me at the small, wrought iron table. We are on the balcony at one of her many lavish homes, this one in Vienna. Usually, I love everything about this city. Considerate people, clean air, and culture so steeped in tradition it makes the Los Angeles art scene look like a pimply teenager by comparison. I can own the fact that my megastar boy bands, and pop divas are no match for the great composers, which is why I get along so well here. I am not trying to impress anyone. Today, though, I am frustrated and certainly lousy company for my longtime friend. “I have no fucking idea what is happening,” I say revolving the delicate ivory coffee cup in my fingers and watching the dark liquid slide along the sides. The unique blend of roasted beans of this modest serving, no doubt, cost my hostess a small fortune, I should be sipping the beverage while at the perfect temperature. Unfortunately, I have no appetite for it. Or anything since Claire left me standing somewhat dazed and confused in the parking lot outside The Golden Rail.
“Because she won't give you another mind-blowing lap dance?” Lila asks over the rim of her coffee cup, almost, but not entirely hiding her smile. She is one of few people who I would ever tolerate taking amusement in my torment, but this is Lila. A more elegant, dazzling woman of class and beauty cannot be found on the planet. I care deeply for her, always have, and forever will. Lila brought me to ‘the club’ but that was long after she took me under her wing in other ways first. Although not my first lesbian conquest by far, I often wish she would have been. Through her patient tutelage, I learned about art, literature, music, and anything which can delight the finer senses… including how to please every sensual aspect of a woman. Even though our sexual relationship was short-lived by her insistence, our friendship stands the test of time through the tempest of the life of the elite rich. In a way, I owe her for everything that I am, which is why her merriment in my predicament is something I will overlook. I know she teases only in fun, and not at the expense of my feelings. Besides, my private jet has delivered me here for the sole purpose of seeking her advice. If anyone can help me unravel the problem I am having with Claire, it will be Lila.
“It was mind-blowing,” I agree, especially considering I replayed the moment in my imagination a hundred times. The feel of her across my lap, riding me, her hand in my hair, pulling me in to suck hard on her nipple, as the passion of the moment swept us away in a giant climactic release. I feel my stomach tighten with excitement at the memory, and over the rush of arousal, I hear Lila’s sweet laugh.
“Look at you,” she says. “Turned on so easily by just a memory of her.” She rests her cup on its saucer and leans forward to put her elbows on the table. Resting her chin on her clasped hands, I see more than amusement flickering in her gray eyes. I see compassion. “She’s special to you, isn’t she?” As if I am the lost and confused twenty-something that I was when we met, I can only nod under her knowing question. “Oh, Madison. Why is this a bad thing?”
She calls me by my club name out of habit, although there was a time, decades ago, I made her cry out my real one as I plunged my fingers into her time and time again. I like the sound of how she says the word. In fact, I adore the way she says everything. Her voice and the accent so different from my own ‘American’ variety is one of the things I am most attracted to about her. Some might mistakenly call it British, but there's too much variation to be any one accent specifically. She's too worldly, speaks to many languages, for anything about her to be put in a box as any one thing. I almost laugh thinking there could not be a more out of the box person alive, which is especially surprising because she comes from a centuries-long line of power and money built on a foundation of ritual and tradition.
“It’s bad because she obviously wants nothing to do with me,” I explain as my shoulders tighten with frustration. “She’s gone into hiding. Quit the diner. Rarely leaves her home.” I know this, because out of my desperation, there is a team watching her apartment complex. Not intrusively. No listening devices or video. I would never do that to her. She deserves her privacy, which is why I can’t call her or send anything to her house to get her attention. She never gave me the information necessary to use an excuse. It’s an impossible situation.
“You don’t know that is true,” Lila says. “But it is complicated, I agree.”
I rub my eyes and sigh. “Even if I did set up a chance encounter, I don’t think she wants me around.”
Lila smiles and shakes her head. “Oh, I disagree. You've overwhelmed her is all. You have that effect.”
Normally, I would take her words as a good thing. Overwhelming, overpowering, taking what is mine, these are all attributes I strive for in my life. Yet, these same qualities are backfiring with Claire, and I don't know what to do about it. “Good point,” I say. “And that’s the problem. The idea behind this ridiculous ultimatum of Zena’s is to find a woman to quietly settle down with. Not make another pawn in my empire.”
“It isn’t just Zena’s demand,” Lila corrects. “We are all in agreement you need to find a quieter personal life. Your Lesbian-Romeo headlines in the entertainment pages make it impossible to associate with you.”
I know she is right. Even now, in Vienna, this visit is discreet. We are behind the walls of her estate, far from prying eyes and paparazzi cameras. Even being on the balcony is a risk, sitting out in the open in case of drones or other technological surveillance devices. Lila insisted though. She has less to worry about really. Her power comes from her birthright and not through politics or business. Or popularity, although hers is immense. Everyone loves Lila.
I rub my eyes knowing she and the others are right. After taking time to think about the conversation on the yacht, I agree my reputation could hurt them if I’m not more careful. The time has come to pick someone and stop the revolving bedmates. Meeting Claire seems like fate. “So, how do I fix this?” I ask. “When I can’t use all the resources at my disposal?”
Lila tilts her head, her shoulder-length ash blonde hair playing lightly in the breeze and looks over the broad expanse of emerald green lawn surrounding the estate. “Romance her,” she finally says before looking back at me. The twinkle in her eyes is enough to make me start to smile. “Begin again and woo the girl.”
“Woo her?” I consider her words digesting the idea. “With flowers and champagne?”
“If I recall, you are good with flowers. Particularly roses.”
A memory flashes into my mind at her suggestive tone. Decades-old, but the image of Lila’s naked slender body laid out before me on a bed of white satin is still fresh in my memory. Blood red rose petals are everywhere. All part of a clumsy attempt by the younger me to be romantic and please her. As unoriginal as it was, she embraced the moment and handed me one of the flowers on its long stem. “Touch me with this,” she instructed, always with the same knowing smile. Not sure what she meant, I started to ask, but she put a finger to my lips. “Don’t think so much, my love, follow your instincts.”
Holding my breath in concentration as much as arousal, I took the rose and leaned over her to tentatively trace the velvety red petals across her cheek. As I watched, she closed her eyes and sighed. Encouraged, I moved slowly down her neck, across her shoulder, to her small breasts, stopping at the tight nipples to tease and was rewarded with a moan. “Keep going,” she whispered, and I slipped the flower lower. Trailing along her flat stomach, to the neat patch of hair between her legs, where I stood at the ready, strap-on harnessed around my hips and thighs. Feeling more confident as she arched her back in anticipation of my caress, I slid the rose along the inside of her thigh, with the lightest brush against her hard clit. Her gasp taught me the lesson I knew she intended, just as I know her reminding me of that moment is a lesson as well. Sometimes the gentlest touch can be the perfect preparation for the intensity to come. In life as well as sex.