chapter 26

Lillian didn’t needto catch her breath as they neared the top of the wooden staircase that led from the beach to the lights, which turned out to be cottages on the bluff. Blue paused for a moment, looking back at the stairs.

“That was a climb,” she said.

Lillian resisted the urge to put her hand on Blue’s back. Blue did not need Lillian to steady her. Blue was a little out of breath, not gasping. No, Lillian wanted to put her hand on Blue’s back because of the faraway look in Blue’s eyes when she talked about her childhood. She hadn’t even noticed Lillian staring at her as they walked. Or staring at her now. Blue’s cheeks were flushed, her blue hair windblown. The faraway look was gone now, and her smile made her eyes into sweet half-moons.

Lillian forced herself to look away from Blue and at the cottages, a cluster of rentals half-hidden behind a wall of buoys, anchors, and other flotsam. A wooden sign identified the place as Barnacle Bob’s Vacation Cottages. A MANAGER sign hung on the first cottage.

“Let’s check it out,” Blue said and headed for the manager’s cottage.

Inside, a man with a long white beard and a tie-dyed T-shirt sat at a desk made out of driftwood.

“Well, hello, friends!” he greeted them.

“We just walked from Galeton.” Blue caught her breath. “Do you mind if we dry off while I call someone to pick us up?”

“Of course you can warm up here. There’s a fire in the grand lodge.”

Nothing about Barnacle Bob’s said grand or lodge.

“But your ride will have a hard time getting here from Galeton,” he said apologetically. “There’s a landslide on 101. Internet says they won’t have it cleared ’til tomorrow.”

The desire to walk on the beach forever dissipated. Lillian needed to finish the choreography for their Lie in Wait dance and start rehearsing her dancers. They were performing tomorrow. Her dancers’ careers rested in her hands, but she’d gone walking with the woman she liked. She’d asked, Can we go a little farther? She’d forgotten all about incorporating Lie in Wait Outdoor Wear into a ballet performance that the judges would think was emotive or real or whatever they were looking for.

“Can we go around?”

“There’s a slide on Highway 20 too,” the man said.

“Is that bad?”

“Pretty much means you can’t get back to Galeton right now.”

Eleanor had warned her: Black dancers couldn’t make this kind of mistake. Not getting hemmed in by landslides, exactly, but dropping the ball. Poor judgment. Lateness. A handsome, white, male lead was quirky if he was distracted; a Black woman was a liability.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got one cabin left.” The man surveyed a set of cubby holes on the wall behind him. “You want it? It’s the Captain Cozy’s Cottage. We serve dinner family-style in the lodge. We’ve got a group of retirees and some kids from the Netherlands staying here. Lovely people. You’ll have a wonderful time.”

Lillian could not spend the night in Captain Cozy’s Cottage when she should be working with her dancers.

“And DOT always gets these things cleared up. You can be out of here by ten tomorrow. Better than camping on the beach,” the man added.

It’d be okay. That would give her enough time to work with her dancers. She could work on the choreography tonight on her phone. A thought struck her like a wave but not a cold, Oregon wave full of killer puffer fish. She wasn’t just spending the night in a cottage. She was spending the night in a cottage with Blue. Lillian looked at Blue. Blue looked at her. The air between them vibrated. The frequency pulsed between Lillian’s legs. Blue licked her lips in a gesture both nervous and sexual. And all the discipline of a prima ballerina cracked. Lillian turned back to the man.

“We’d love to stay in Captain Cozy’s Cottage.”

Lillian stepped outside and called Bryant while Blue collected the keys. Bryant conceded that a natural disaster was the only excuse for being off set.

“Get back here ASAP,” he grumbled.

“DOT always gets these things cleared up by morning,” Lillian said, although she had no idea what the Oregon Department of Transportation did or did not do.

Blue emerged from the manager’s office, keys in hand, and motioned that she was heading to the cabin. Lillian gave her an I’ll be there in a sec gesture. Lillian sheltered under the eaves of the manager’s cottage, ended her call with Bryant, and checked her texts.

Kia: I’m drinking chardonnay with Imani. Where are you?

Lillian: Tell her not to drink.

Kia texted back immediately.

Kia: Too late. Where are you?

At Barnacle Bob’s Vacation Cottages getting ready to share Captain Cozy’s Cottage with a woman I don’t get to sleep with until one of us gets voted off the show.

Lillian: went for a walk

Kia: With Blue?

Why would you say that? Of course I didn’t go for a walk with Blue. I have professional boundaries and make decisions that further the best interests of my company.

Lillian: I’m fine but I can’t get back until tomorrow.

Kia: Hell yeah!

Lillian: Not like that. There was a landslide. Can’t get back. We rented a place on the other side.

Kia: A “landslide”

Lillian: Yes. A landslide.

Kia: How’d a “landslide” happen?

Lillian: The way landslides happen.

Kia: Are you going to eat Blue’s scones?

Lillian: No!

They were not having scones. She was not going to gaze into Blue’s mysterious eyes. Lillian could feel Kia’s smirk through the phone screen.

Lillian: Probably not

Lillian: 50/50

Kia: don’t angst about it, just

Blue had turned on the lights in their cottage. Now she popped her head out and beckoned for Lillian, silhouetted by the light from inside. Behind the cottage, the sky was a luminous navy blue. The same shade as Blue’s hair. Lillian lifted her phone and took a picture. This was one of those moments. Everything hung in the air midleap. Would she make the landing? Could she do the grand jeté? Would she land one centimeter off balance and end everything?

Lillian: I don’t know what to do.

The truth in six words.

She texted the photo to Kia.

Kia: Say yes

Nothing was that simple, but Lillian pocketed her phone and walked down the cracking cement path that led to their cottage. The open living room and kitchenette were paneled in knotty pine. Sea-themed knickknacks decorated end tables. A book called Rogan: A Seafaring Journey to Manhood took pride of place on the mantel of a woodburning fireplace. Lillian’s eyes strayed to the open bedroom door. One room. One bed. No sofa that anyone could pretend to sleep on.

“Not what you’re used to,” Blue said apologetically.

“I like it. It reminds me of my uncle’s yacht. I have happy memories of knotty pine.” Lillian picked up a ceramic figurine of a sea captain sitting in an outhouse. “I miss the spaniels though.”

Blue knelt beside the fireplace, took some sticks out of a basket, and propped them up in the hearth.

“Did you call your people?” Lillian asked.

“Yeah.” Blue stood up.

Lillian took a step toward Blue at the same moment Blue moved toward her. They stopped. They were standing so close, she could feel Blue’s breath on her face. She caught a hint of Blue’s sophisticated cherry perfume. Without makeup Blue looked older than she did onstage, and sexier. Maybe that was the realness the Prime Minister was always talking about.

“Are we going to make good life choices?” Lillian asked.

“Of course.” Blue’s eyes said no. She reached past Lillian. The movement brought her even closer. But she didn’t touch her. Instead she plucked Rogan: A Seafaring Journey to Manhood off the shelf.

“When I’m lying in bed,” Blue said, “trying not to go crazy with you right there, I’ll read this. I’ll be like a teenage boy trying to think about baseball.”

The thought of Blue being frustrated and reading about seafaring made Lillian want to pull Blue to her and grind her hip between Blue’s legs. Everything else fled Lillian’s mind. What ballet? What competition?

“Will it work?” Lillian asked.

Blue took a step back and opened the book. “Even as a lad my elders saw something of the adventuring world in me.”

Lillian ran her fingertips along the spine of the book, touching the back while Blue held its edges. Blue’s breath caught as she read on. The sound almost undid Lillian.

“Untold men had gone before me, but I bore a mark of inherent excellence.”

“Do you think if I kissed you one more time, it would help? Satisfy you? Relieve you”—Lillian hung on the word relieve because the image of Blue stirring with untouched desire was too delicious—“of the need to read about Rogan?”

“I’m sure it would,” Blue whispered. Her eyes were wide. Her lips parted. “Obviously one kiss would be enough to put that all behind me.”

“I wouldn’t want you to suffer.” Lillian put her hand on Blue’s waist, savoring her softness, and pulled Blue to her. “Just once more,” she murmured against Blue’s lips.

Blue’s kiss was drinking water in the desert. Blue held the back of Lillian’s head as she pressed her lips hard and frantic against Lillian’s. Lillian slowed their kiss as if to stop. Blue stifled a moan of protest. Lillian pulled away just long enough to press Blue against the wall beside the fireplace.

“I’m the one who’s supposed to—”

Blue gasped as Lillian pressed her leg between Blue’s, holding her with her hips. Because Lillian had control of every muscle in her body and because she’d been with enough women to read Blue’s gasps, she moved her hips in exactly the right way. Or the wrong way if she’d been trying to free Blue’s mind of distraction. Blue almost sobbed. She clutched Lillian’s hips. And Lillian kissed her. Just one more kiss. Who was Lillian kidding? The only question was how long before Lillian laid Blue on Captain Cozy’s Cottage’s bed and ravished her. Lillian pulled away a second before the urge to come against Blue’s leg became irresistible.

Lillian returned her breath and her heartbeat to an even rhythm.

“Is that better?” Lillian asked.

Blue was flushed, one hand pressed against the wall behind her.

“You know it’s not.” She looked like she might collapse.

“I won’t do it again then.” Lillian grinned. “Let’s go get dinner at the lodge.”

“You’re killing me.”

“You have to wait until the end of the show.”

“I’m going to explode.” Blue leaned her head back against the wall. “Lillian. You… I…”

Confident, charismatic Blue Lenox at a loss for words. That was as satisfying as landing a perfect jeté on the Walroux Fousse Center stage. No, it felt better.

“You’re not going to leave me like this?”

If Blue had been any other woman, Lillian would have stripped them both down, come against Blue’s leg, and been at the lodge before the diners had seconds. But this was Blue.

“Are you asking me to compromise my principles?” Lillian asked.

“Please, Lillian. Yes.”

“Well, if I’m going to compromise my principles, our principles, I want to take my time, and dinner at Barnacle Bob’s waits for no one.”

Lillian picked up her key, smiled at Blue, and headed for the door, her body begging her to reconsider.

The grand lodge was a larger cabin with a wall of windows facing the ocean. Dinner was spaghetti brought to the table in a giant pot and set on a trivet in the shape of an octopus. The manager sat down with the guests. The other guests were split between two groups, some from an over-fifty community in Idaho and six young people from the Netherlands who’d come to have the authentic American experience.

“We’ve rented pickup trucks,” one of the tourists from the Netherlands said in barely accented English.

Why had Lillian decided to make Blue wait? Maybe she should grab Blue’s hand and drag her away. I need you now. But on a totally practical level, there weren’t other food options at Barnacle Bob’s, and Blue would need her strength. Lillian smiled to herself.

Blue sparkled, instantly the center of attention, but as soon as the group’s attention landed on her, she shared it. She was like a kaleidoscope of mirrors reflecting the sweetest, funniest things about the other guests. A retiree who looked older than God told a story about stealing a golf cart when he was a teenager. Blue listened, rapt, laughing at all the right places. Then she riffed off the story until it became something special they all shared. She suggested hideous Americana the group from the Netherlands could visit on their trip: a taxidermied-alligator-petting museum, the world’s largest ball of gum.

Despite the fierce need to ride Blue and come against her flesh, Lillian could have watched her forever. Blue made a community out of strangers eating spaghetti in a rustic cabin. She was kind. She made everyone belong. It wasn’t hard to see how she’d gathered a burlesque troupe around her, how Portland loved her. Lillian could even see why women thrust their breasts at Blue for a signature so they could take a little of her magic with them. And she could see how Blue was so much more than flash and sex appeal. And as Blue charmed the guests, she kept looking at Lillian imploringly. Lillian wanted to give Blue anything and everything Blue wanted.

Eventually dinner was finished. The other guests excused themselves. Lillian looked at Blue.

“Shall we?” she asked.

Outside in the rain, Blue leaned against Lillian. “You did that to tease me.”

“You need to eat. You need your strength.” Lillian grinned. “And I want this to last. I want to take my time. You’re worth it.”

“That’s the nicest thing a lover’s said to me,” Blue said.

“I hope that’s not true.”

But if it was, Lillian wanted to be the one to say it.

Lillian was in so much trouble.

Blue followed her into the cottage. Lillian meant to control their kiss, to tease Blue, and to break her with pleasure. But as soon as they were inside, Blue pressed her against the wall where Lillian had pinned Blue earlier. Blue leaned her whole body against Lillian’s, every inch of her softness touching Lillian. Lillian clutched Blue so fervently she felt all of Blue all at once, her hands pulling Blue closer, her mouth open for Blue’s kiss. She needed Blue. She’d waited too long. She needed to give in now.

Blue ran the side of her thumb down Lillian’s belly and lower, tracing the zipper of Lillian’s pants.

“What would you like me to do to you?” she asked.

“What do you want?” Lillian gasped.

“To make you sing.”

Blue kissed down the side of Lillian’s neck, pushing her coat off and tossing it across a chair. She bit the juncture of Lillian’s shoulder and her neck. She caught Lillian’s nipple between her fingers, pinching her through her sweater. The spark of pain made everything feel clearer, sharper, better.

When Blue finally pulled away, her eyes were dreamy and desperate.

“Can I go down on you?” she asked.

Lillian nodded. She wanted to taste Blue too, wanted to explore the delicate minutiae of her body, but she was too turned on to refuse. A moment later they were in the bedroom. Blue turned up the baseboard heater and cast the cover off the bed. She stripped Lillian quickly, kissing her the whole time, then gave her a soft shove toward the bed. Lillian lay down. Blue followed her, kissing quickly down her belly. Lillian’s hips bucked. It was still too slow. She tried to formulate the words. I appreciate the foreplay, and maybe afterward, but could you please, now!

Blue settled herself between Lillian’s legs, her cheek resting on Lillian’s thigh, suddenly calm, looking up at Lillian like they were lying on a picnic blanket discussing whether they’d go swimming later.

“Are you going to just—” Lillian protested. I need you.

“You made me go to dinner.” Lillian could feel Blue chuckle. “Do you know how long it takes for people to eat spaghetti?”

Blue trailed her fingers lazily over Lillian’s vulva.

“I…” For once Lillian’s ballet training was not enough to slow her heartbeat.

“They have to roll every noodle onto their fork,” Blue said slowly. “Is there anything I should know?” Blue asked, more serious. “Things you like? Don’t like?”

“I’ll tell you if anything doesn’t feel right.” Please. Now. Kiss me. Lillian’s hips bucked.

Blue slid between Lillian’s legs, kissing Lillian’s inner thighs, then drifted her lips across Lillian’s hair.

“You smell good.” Blue touched the tip of her tongue to Lillian’s opening. “And taste good.”

Lillian almost screamed at the insufficient pleasure. Blue licked her again. And again. And again. Nowhere near her clit. Lillian squirmed and moaned. She felt Blue’s hands tighten on her hips, was vaguely aware of Blue thrusting her own hips into the bed. She dug her hands into Blue’s hair.

“Oh, Blue, please.”

She never called women’s names during sex. In some ways, names didn’t matter when it was just a one-night hookup. But now she needed Blue, not just someone.

She pressed her hips toward Blue’s lips. “This is what I want.”

And Blue gave her what she wanted, kissing and sucking her clit. She massaged Lillian’s mons and pressed her fingers inside Lillian. The whole world distilled down to those sensations, the spotlight getting brighter and smaller, the pirouette getting faster, until Lillian spun out of control and came with a silent cry.

When she came back to her senses, she realized that Blue had rolled away from her. Blue was touching herself with both hands, three fingers pushing inside herself, while her other hand rubbed at her clit with hard, jerky movements. Without looking at her, Blue reached for Lillian’s hand and guided it to her opening.

“Touch me,” Blue gasped.

There was nothing Lillian wanted to do more. Blue moved her hand so Lillian could touch her and Blue could capture her labia and her clit in her hands. Blue was wet. Hot. Swollen. Lillian rubbed Blue’s opening, then slipped two fingers inside her. Blue clutched at herself so awkwardly it was hard to imagine she could come from that chaotic rubbing and yanking.

“Oh. I’m going to…” Blue’s eyes squeezed shut. “I need it so much I’m going to cry.”

Blue ground the heel of her hand against herself, squeezing her eyes so tightly closed a tear did slide down her cheek. Lillian saw it in the light coming from beneath the curtains.

“I need to… yes! Yes. Yes!”

Blue’s back arched and her body spasmed.

When her orgasm subsided, she rolled onto her belly, her face pressed to the pillow. She lay motionless.

Lillian put a hand on her back. “Are you okay?”

Blue nodded into the pillow. Then she rolled over, seemed to regret it, and rolled back onto her belly.

“It’s supposed to be artful,” Blue said into the pillow.

“What?”

“Me.”

“It’s not a performance.” Lillian stroked Blue’s back, feeling a rush of tenderness.

When Blue finally rolled over and looked her in the eyes, Lillian could see the truth they both knew: Everything in life was performance. And a woman like Blue shouldn’t come like that. It was too real. Too vulnerable. Sexy but too desperate to be on brand. If you were going to hook up with strangers, you should keep your I need it so much I’m going to cry to yourself. But they weren’t strangers.

Lillian leaned on one elbow, gazing down at Blue and stroking the pattern of zeros and ones on her chest.

“If I wasn’t already a lesbian, you’d make me gay.”

“Don’t you want a dancer with rock-hard thighs?”

“I want you, Blue.” There it was. A truth that was too big to fit in the cottage or the tour bus or her studio apartment in the Lynnwood Terrace. “I want you, Isadora Wells from Broken Bush.”

“My real name.” Blue’s face lit with delight.

“Did you think this whole time I didn’t google you? Does anyone call you Isadora?”

“It’s Izzy.”

It was an unpretentious name. The kind of name that made you think of pigtails and flowery dresses. The kind of life neither of them had lived.

“Do you like Izzy?” Lillian asked.

“Yeah.” Blue turned her head, not hiding her face but not meeting Lillian’s eyes. “All my friends used to call me Izzy. I don’t know when Blue became everything I was.”

“It’s not.”

“Sarah only calls me Izzy when she thinks I’m fucking up.”

“Look at me.” Lillian gently tipped Izzy’s chin up. “I don’t think you’re fucking up.” It was possible they were both fucking up in some massive emotional-disaster sort of way Lillian could barely anticipate since she’d barely had any emotions with women. “And if your inner truth was signing women’s names with an organic Sharpie, I wouldn’t be here. Can I call you Izzy?”

“Yeah.”

“Izzy Wells.” It fit her.

“Are we going to do this again?” Izzy finally looked at Lillian, her eyes guileless.

“Did you get me out of your system?”

“Never.” Izzy’s eyes drifted closed as though remembering pleasure or anticipating it.

The thin curtains let in the dark luminescence of the night sky, casting the room in blue shadows. It made Izzy’s pale skin look paler, like a magical creature descended from a castle on the moon. Lillian had seen the best dancers in the world perform the most challenging moves, but no body and no one had looked so beautiful. Izzy blinked her eyes open, then closed again.

Lillian brushed a lock of damp hair off Izzy’s forehead.

“Go to sleep, Izzy.” She kissed Izzy’s forehead.

Izzy sprawled on her side, instantly asleep, smiling, like she was still bathed in the pleasure of her release. But Lillian stayed up for a long time. I wanted to date every girl who’d leave because they were passionate about something that wasn’t me. That was Lillian, and the thought of hurting Izzy made her want to curl up in a ball and never leave the cottage. I won’t. I won’t. I won’t. But there was no way to end this without breaking both their hearts, not after calling Blue’s name in bed, not after learning Blue’s name was Izzy.