Chapter 11

"Wake up sleepy," I say with a giggle as I nuzzle under the soft, silky, white sheets to a perfectly naked and sleeping Dahlia. She ignores me, or she doesn't wake, either way, I am persistent. Covering her in kisses as my nose nudges at her. She awakens slowly, groggily. Her body probably still aching from the night before, but I know she can still feel those tingles too. And as her eyes flutter open and her morning comes into focus, she smiles.

"What time is it?" she asks, and her voice is dipped in sleep, making my heart flutter.

"It is barely six. The sun hasn't risen yet, but I wanted to show you something if you want to take a ride with me." I try to keep my tone light, but I am hopeful. I don't have anywhere to call my own. Nowhere in the city is mine, my grandmother's home is home but then it is her home more than anything, adapted for me, but never quite mine. But there is one place I would share with her. A special place.

"Of course, I would love to."

We both get up and dress quietly, there is always a special feeling in the air when you feel like you wake up before the city does. Like you have a secret and you have to keep it to yourself so as not to wake the others and it can then stay just yours a little longer. I linger at the window, watching the lights begin to flicker on around me. Another day almost ready to begin, I wonder what it will bring for them. For us. For me.

Dahlia takes my hand with the slightest rub of her thumb against my palm, and I am transported. Submission is a gift, a beautiful gift that cannot ever be compared, but others are fools to think I hold the power as the dominant one; I am like butter in her hand as she guides me to the elevator. As our bodies rest effortlessly against each other, I worry I am already too far gone with my feelings for her.

The driver is there waiting at the parking elevator, he gets out the moment the doors ping open and I linger as Dahlia enters the open door, murmuring the instructions on where to go.

It is early, but Dahlia is still careful. Her hair is tied back, her sweater loose, and her face half-hidden away by a soft scarf that makes my mind wander to dark and dangerous games we could play right here in the backseat of the car.

She smirks at me as if she can read my mind and says with a dark grin, "I feel like you are kidnapping me, should I be afraid for my life?" she asks with mock panic and I laugh.

"Maybe you would need to worry more if the driver was on my payroll and not yours."

"Hmmm." She leans in, her eyes flashing, "But how do I know you haven't paid him off and this isn't all some big ruse to steal me away in the middle of the night, tie me up and have your wicked way with me … oh wait…" she says with a tilt of her head. "You already did that. Repeatedly and with my full consent."

I smile. "I had more than your consent. I had your total and utter obedience." I lean in this time, closing in on her lips, my teeth bared, taking a tiny nip at her bottom lip, holding on and then pulling with a light tug. "And I can have it any time again that I choose … so don't you forget it."

I can see her face turn, the look of submission lingering on her features. I could take her now, I could guide her into that state of obedience, of wanting to give, and I would enjoy every heavenly second. But I don't. Instead, my bite turns into a kiss of softness and I pull back slowly to rest against the seat.

"I want you; you know that, but we have time later. For now, I just want to share something with you." I pause and wonder now if this is a good idea, if I am sharing too much perhaps. But Dahlia"s fingers thread with mine and she gives me a light squeeze.

"I can't wait to see something that is special to you."

I don't come here very often, which makes me feel disappointed in myself because I know I should. It is a beautiful spot, way out of the city, past the suburbs when my grandmother lives, and out into the green fields of the countryside. It is the good thing about a small country—it doesn't take much drive time for the landscape to begin to change.

As we reach the off-road dirt parking lot, I am happy that the sunrise still lingers on the horizon, soft pinks, oranges, and reds paint the waking sky.

The car pulls to a slow roll and I can tell the driver is nervous about the lack of people and security.

"Ma'am, I am not sure—" he starts, half turned to talk to Dahlia, but she cuts him off in a second.

"I will be fine. I will be with Alexa and you can see us from outside the vehicle at all times. No need for undue worry. I doubt there is a crazed Dahlia Dante fan out here in the bushes," she says with a playful smile, but I see that it doesn't ease the driver's concern.

"You will be able to see us at all times, but I assure you it is a very quiet spot."

He looks at me and studies my face for a second and then nods, and I wonder if maybe I am the security concern.

We leave the car at different sides then meet in the middle and head down the path.

"I guess that you know about me. The file that Mr. Suit wrote about me was pretty comprehensive, but I think there is a difference between words on paper and a story of a life. So, I thought, we might not have much time for you and me. I know that your life is going to head off soon in another direction and mine probably won't." I don't mean to sound bitter but I fear there is an edge to my voice. "Anyway, I just wanted to share something that I have never shared with anyone, so when the time comes and we have to go our different ways that I gave you something real. A real part of me."

"Alexa…" Her voice trembles a little bit and she is beautiful and vulnerable. "I will come back. I come to London all the time. It will be okay, we can—"

"Shush," I say, softly placing a finger to her lips. "It is okay, I can live in the moment," I murmur as the clearing opens wide and I watch Dahlia"s eyes light up as she takes in the lake.

"Oh, it is beautiful," she says in awe.

"Walk with me?" I ask, and she squeezes my hand extra tight.

"It would be my pleasure."

We talk a long, slow walk around the lake. It isn't very big but we amble, taking our time. I start to talk but we have moments. Pauses to take in the flowers, the water, the sunrise. Peppering words with tender kisses and gentle touches.

"I didn't know my parents; I was so young when they died. Not even two years old. So, I don't have memories, I have photographs and stories. When I was a kid, their friends used to tell me about them. I didn't really understand that much then, some stories stay with you, but life goes on and those friends got their own families and maybe they think about my mom when they see hear her favorite song, or my dad when his birthday comes around. Maybe they wonder about me, that sadness, poor Alexa, I wonder what she is doing with herself these days. But it faded away, the visits, the phone calls, the cards. This place is where I feel my mom and dad, where I know them. This is where they got married. My mom was already pregnant with me. My grandmama is traditional like that and she ushered my father into it a little. But they have it on video, not the wedding itself. I don't think they much cared for the church part, but the after-party they had here. At the side of the lake. There are other videos of them together, other moments captured. But the wedding tape is hours and hours of laughter, dancing, singing, smiling, and it is just filled with love. I feel like I was there, that I knew them on that day. So, when I want to be close to them. I come here."

I feel so stupid. I haven't cried about my parents in a long time, but a tear leaks from the corner of my eye and streaks my cheek. Dahlia notices but she doesn't move to stop it.

"I think that we all have a loss, a sadness that we carry around with us. Some people just know life without it and then it hits them. Others, they carry it all their lives and know no different. Your parents sound like lucky people in one way. To have love, you, happiness. I don't know if that makes it better or worse."

"I think better, I try and see the positive in that, they had a happy life. They don't carry the sadness, and I haven't had to carry it alone. I too have been lucky to have my grandparent to help bear the weight with me."

"I didn't have anyone really. I know…" Dahlia pauses, "Mr. Suit can be an asshole, but he is the only one really who has been there. His interest in my wellbeing is selfish, but it is there always. I hadn't had that for a long time and now I don't know what I would do without him."

The sun begins to shine warm and bright, slowly climbing the sky. Our hands are threaded together as we head off the path and into the meadow. The tall grass tickles against her bare legs, Dahlia's dress is light and made of cotton, delicate flowers printed across it; she has taken her big sweater off and the light dances across her skin. As we reach the clearing, I take out a blanket and bring it to my nose, it smells of cherry blossom soap powder. I smile at her with a shy smile and spread it out on the grass, watching her as she lays out on it, more beautiful than ever in the golden morning light. She shakes her lovely red hair loose.

"My marriage, as I am sure you can now understand was just a publicity thing. I am obviously gay and not the only one in that marriage that was. He was nice in the beginning. No, correction, he acted nice in the beginning but it didn't last. But I had a contract and I had to fulfill it for my side of the deal to stand. So I did. I put up with it, I played my part. But it was torture. A nightmare. A million miles from where I am now. Here with you."

I feel so shy. The soft blush rises to my cheeks instantly, there is no rope to hide behind here. My fingers carry a tiny tremble as I take a tense deep breath, my eyes finding hers. That moment when they meet, I feel mine well up with tears again. Pure uninhibited emotion.

As her soft sweet voice continues my hips start to sway softly. I circle my ankles, shake off my shoes and feel my pink-painted toes run through the grass.

The thin straps of her dress rest against her collarbone. Her summer tan already faded, her skin is soft and creamy, just the tiniest kiss of the sun still lingering. Her dress blows in the wind and goosebumps line her skin. My confidence grows under her watchful gaze and I bite my lip as I pull the strap from her shoulders.

Her dress doesn't just fall, it clings to her breasts, hugging her body tight so I have to peel it from her skin. The slow reveal of full firm breasts, her nipples are still soft for a brief moment but hardening almost instantly, the breeze caressing them. Following the curves of her body, the dip of her waist, and the flare of her hips, my fingertips continue their undoing.

My hands glide down my clothes and I start to undress myself, peeling away my clothes before meeting her. My palms move to her thighs, her dress finally falls and she is naked. No panties. Just her. Her instinct is to cover, her hands already sliding between her legs to cup her shy but wanting pussy, arms moving across her breasts. But my look stops her.

I lower slowly onto my knees, moving towards her. Making my way up her body, my breasts sway a little with each movement, and I feel my body bared to the elements, nature's gentle kiss on my skin. I wonder if she can see in my eyes how I feel, how she makes me feel.

She holds herself up on her elbows, her thighs together so I can straddle her. My fingers walk up to her chest as I burst into a smile. I rest, hovered slightly above her, my knees bent, sliding wider. Each deep breath makes my breasts rise and fall. My fingers trail through her hair as my thumbs run over her cheekbones. She is so beautiful, so American, I grin to myself and also, so mine.

Cupping her face, I bring Dahlia to me as I move to her. Always in sync, we share a soft, light kiss. Our lips barely moving, the gentle touch of her breath on mine, just offering each other a tender caress and the promise of a thousand more. "You give me butterflies," I whisper softly to the breeze and I lose myself in her.