Chapter 5

5

TATIANA

T he intestines of her wardrobe seemed to spill out onto her in the most chaotic of ways. Tatiana rummaged through her clothes, trying to think of the most creative and flattering of combinations, failing miserably. She had a particularly violent love-hate relationship with getting ready to attend events; on the one hand feeling attracted by the glamour of dressing up, on the other always procrastinating until the very last minute. Finally, she decides to call Connie.

"You need to help me," she cries, in between two suits and three dresses. "I have tons of clothes, I don't think any look good, I need to leave in three hours, and I still haven't done my make-up or hair," she spits out in one breath.

"Three hours is a lot of time," Connie laughs. "What's the big deal about this? You go to these events a few times a week, sometimes."

Tatiana freezes, side-tracked. She hasn't questioned why this opening, Ellie's opening, put so much pressure on her. She simply caved in, accepting that for this evening she must look like a god, or muse. She wants to look powerful, self-assured, and of good taste.

"It's this Ellie Matthews," she explains, trying on another shirt, "we argued about each other's art, and she said some pretty rude things. I want to look good to spite her, I guess."

Or because I want to fuck her?

The shirt looks disproportionate and lands on the quickly growing pile of unacceptable clothing.

"How is that even connected in your mind?" inquiries Connie, slowly giving up on the thread.

Tatiana doesn't answer, whirling around her bedroom, growing desperate.

"Listen," Connie lights up suddenly, "remember that suit you wore a month ago to Gustav's concert? It looked so good on you. And the blouse you wore made it very androgynous, kind of hot."

"Kind of hot?"

"Very hot."

After hanging up, Tatiana decides to go with Connie's advice and wear the androgynous, hot suit. What feels like hours of ironing, finally makes the suit and the blouse acceptable.

On the way, she's surprised to realize that she will make it on time. The traffic is light, and the sky is without a single cloud. Soon enough, the stars will richly pepper the sky. Tatiana feels a rush of excitement that always comes to her with artistic events. The vibrant crowd attending these never fails to sweep her up in some fruitful conversation, the drinks are always free, and she feels on top of the world, knowing that often the parties are invite-only. It's exactly what she dreamt of, choosing to attend art school.

Tatiana enters the modern building, shiny and the color of bone. Its imposing pillars stretch tall, sturdy. She has always thought it to be designed particularly beautifully—even though simple, through its shape and materials it conveys a sort of ancient authority, reminiscent of Greek architecture. The long, wide staircase leads her into the main hall, already half-full, bustling with conversation. Along the walls are Ellie's paintings, though not yet lit up. It seems to be quite a collection. She catches her own reflection in a mirror and flashes a smile, feeling particularly good about the way she looks tonight, her bright red hair shining in long strings, reflecting the strong, artificial light.

Finally, she can see someone get on the small stage and introduce Ellie. The introduction remains brief and contained, which she appreciates. There is nothing worse for Tatiana than a lengthy, self-absorbed introduction, knowing that the artists usually write them themselves anyway. She has to admit, Ellie looks radiant in her dark green dress, reminiscent of the jade stones found in old jewels. Her golden hair is embellished by golden pins, twinkling in Tatiana's eyes.

"Good evening." Ellie seems to be nervous, looking around the audience. "I want to begin by thanking you all for coming, but a few people in particular…"

Hearing the welcome, Tatiana slowly, unintentionally, drifts away. She knows these speeches by heart and having no mind to pay attention to Ellie's words, she tunes into her calming voice. It flows like an ocean, tides licking the sand of her ears. For a moment, she shifts her attention onto the crowd, looking for familiar faces. She manages to spot Fred and Thomas, appearing exquisite in their matching suits, electric red. There are many acquaintances of hers here that she fell out of touch with or don't talk to often, and a bunch of fresh, new faces. She listens in just as Ellie gets to the end of the lengthy formal introduction, full of gratefulness.

"Now, before I let you roam around and explore the works for yourselves, I wanted to give you brief context for these. This series of landscapes in particular is very personal to me, but in an unusual manner. As some of you may know, I'm very close with my family. Their never-ending support is what brought me here in the first place, I could never commit to my career without them. My mother and my father both influenced my creativity from the earliest age, but tonight I want to shift the focus onto my lovely sister, Alexandra. Recently we've been drifting further apart, but we still manage to call once in a while. Whenever we call, she likes to tell me about her dreams. Ladies and gentlemen, these are the landscapes of my sister's dreams?—"

The audience claps, and Tatiana joins in, sincerely quite enchanted by the idea.

"When I first began sketching them, I didn't think much of it. Later, however, I tried matching what I sketched with real places, finding much aesthetic satisfaction. Blending the elements into paintings evolved into the collection you can see now."

Just as she finished the last sentence, the paintings lit up. Against the dark, ruby walls, the delicate pastels of Ellie's landscapes provide a gentle respite for the eye. Tatiana comes up to the one closest, expecting to see this dreamy, unreal quality she imagined while Ellie was speaking. Her mind busies itself with the wonderful potential such a project has, but it all comes to a halt when she sees the most tame of landscapes. There is nothing in it to suggest a land of dreams, and she grows annoyed. She grows disillusioned with the conventions that still seem to tie together the art world.

She decides to look for the bathroom to take a break from the increasingly hot crowd, swarming around the images in large groups. On her way, she catches a glimpse of Ellie talking to a particularly elevated woman. The woman's clothes, a bold, checkered dress with a matching jacket scream glamorous , complimented by her vibrant red lips. She looks spectacular. Soon, however, Tatiana loses them out of sight and enters the spacious bathroom. The tiles look polished to the extreme, white with ruby elements.

The cold water splashes on Tatiana's hands, and while she's applying the lavender-scented soap, she can see Ellie walk in, reflected in the mirror facing her. At first, Ellie doesn't seem to notice Tatiana, preoccupied by something. Her dress touches the floor, rustling quietly with movement. She splashes water on her face, sighing heavily. Little droplets stick to her forehead, dropping to her eyelashes. Upon raising her face to begin fixing her makeup in the mirror, she at last crosses eyes with Tatiana. They look at each other, at a bit of a loss for words. Tatiana has clearly been observing Ellie, and they both stand aware of the fact.

"Everything alright?" Tatiana finally asks.

"Sure." Ellie shrugs, smiling a bit smug. "I'm glad you came to see the opening. How do you like the paintings?"

Ellie's shoulders stand softly bare under the cold bathroom light, her neck endearingly ornamented with one, single pearl. The pearl fits exactly in between her collarbones, moving up and down with the subtle tides of her breathing.

"I like them," Tatiana says, nodding to herself.

Why can't I stop fantasising about fucking her?

Not knowing what to say next, she feels oppressed by the intimacy of being with Ellie alone in an empty room. Her feet urge her to go, so she picks up her purse and leaves.

On her way back to the paintings, she feels burning annoyance grow in her chest. The heavy sensation keeps reminding her of her strange behavior, clearly quite rude. She has no explanation for her brisk response, besides the fact that she really dislikes the paintings. The wasted potential of the concept keeps getting on her nerves, and passing from frame to frame, she picks up a glass of champagne. The refreshing liquid slides down her throat pleasantly, with a gentle bubbling.

"Tatiana!" Fred calls to her, quite tipsy and joyful. "I adore it; I'm fascinated by her idea."

"As if you two haven't been talking about these paintings for months prior," Tatiana smiles, looking at his genuine excitement.

"Don't tell me you think this isn't brilliant." He steps back.

Tatiana looks around the hall, taking in the paintings. She can see the craft, the skill, the endearing little boats floating atop seas of dreams. When she thinks that these truly represent someone's dreaming state, a landscape woven out of someone's morning recollections, she shivers with admiration. What disturbs her is that she could easily confuse these with any other landscape paintings. Especially the ones closer to impressionism, perhaps, the soft edges and pastel colors reminiscent of the style. Nonetheless, they looked like any other lake, any other sea. The meaning, in her opinion, was not well translated.

"I… Honestly, I don't think she managed to convey the idea well," Tatiana admits, still looking at the painting facing them.

Fred waves her away, dismissively shaking his head.

"Girl, you're just obsessed with critiquing Ellie's art. Admit it. It's good."

"It's good." Tatiana nods. "It fails to be great. "

They part ways, each called to different parts of the hall. Tatiana shortly meets Marceline, but their conversation feels fragmented and inconsistent, so each makes up an excuse to drift away back into the crowd. Tatiana admires the young Marceline greatly, but they tend to gravitate towards very different spheres, she recently noticed. Putting her empty glass back on the tray, she contemplates drinking another one. The golden bubbles swim up, defying gravity. An appealing invitation she nonetheless decides to postpone.

Out of the crowd of voices Tatiana gradually untangles the thread of Ellie's, so singularly deep. She seems to be nearby, probably somewhere in the back.

"I'm not complaining. I just wasn't expecting you to come, that's all." She sounds on the edge, distracted. Tatiana's curiosity builds up, forever insatiable. She has always been an incorrigible eavesdropper, catching and sewing together scattered fragments of hushed conversations.

"Well, I'm sorry for driving a ton of people to see your exhibition. Won't do it again," the other voice scoffs.

Tatiana turns to look for the pair, finding Ellie once more with the checkered-dress woman. There seems to be some unspoken grief between them, but catching Ellie's glance, she turns her head away.

Going from acquaintance to acquaintance making small talk, Tatiana grows impatient to have a longer conversation with Ellie, eager to remedy the clumsy bathroom one. She feels peculiarly unresolved when it comes to their relations, and ideally, she would like to straighten things out. She doesn't like to think of herself as uncivil, or ill-educated. Worse yet, someone who can't stomach criticism.

She caves into the temptation and downs another glass of champagne, preparing to go looking for the artist of the night, hunting for a glimpse of her dress. Asking around she finds nothing, at this point during the evening the guests tied themselves into neat groups, disinterested in others. Hopeless, she finally spots the dark green dress somewhere near, quickly following. She finds Ellie drinking water in a secluded corner, next to the bathrooms. The weight of these events can sometimes take its toll on an artist, putting themselves out there to be judged. Approaching, Tatiana realizes she's entirely unsure of the course she wants the conversation to take, unsure even of what she means to say.

She looks so beautiful. Emerald dress. Emerald eyes.

"Hey." She takes a place next to Ellie, leaning in against the wall.

"Hey, Tatiana," Ellie looks at her. "I heard you don't like my paintings," she sighs. The sentence doesn't come out as hurt or offended, rather quite playful.

"No, I don't mean—" Tatiana gets flustered, mad at Fred for sharing such a raw opinion.

"That's okay," Ellie interrupts her. "I got to exhibit either way, didn't I?"

She tilts her head to the side, and the rich storm of her golden hair embraces her face in an effortless compliment. There is something tired about her eyes, Tatiana cannot guess what exactly, but she can still see a playful sparkle swirl around in their depth. She sobers up, looking away.

"Well, that's just arrogant," she says in blank disbelief.

"You have that effect, don't you? I want to be blunt with you," Ellie fires back.

The women look at each other, soaking in the honesty of such a raw confession. Tatiana doesn't know what to do with her limbs, suddenly awkwardly aware of her arms. She crosses them on her chest, unluckily taking on a more assertive pose. They stand face to face, hugged by the wall's support.

"I think that the idea is more powerful than the art. That's my honest opinion," she decides to get it out, thinking that perhaps being straightforward is the best solution. They're both artists of their own right, allowed to critique each other, constructively. She licks her lips, dried out in the hall's crowded air. The dry skin, covered by her lipstick, stings.

"You just bash my art every time we talk," Ellie nods. "I have no strength for this tonight, frankly" she says, leaning in closer. "I'm tired."

"Why are you tired?" Tatiana says more quietly, now that the distance between them diminished so abruptly. She loses her focus.

The conversation has its own tracks, but confronted with the naked reality of Ellie's neck, Tatiana's body enters a different form of dialogue. Their arms dance around each other, careful not to collide, but careful not to get too far away. Tatiana's nostrils flutter, tingled by notes of lemons and cinnamon, mingled with the heat of Ellie's body. She keeps failing to decide where to keep her eyes, sliding around Ellie's collarbones, lips, finally her eyes.

"There's a very demanding guest here tonight," Ellie admits, seeming equally distracted. She looks to the floor, and Tatiana can swear her cheeks appear more vibrant than usual.

"The woman in the checkered dress," Tatiana lets out slowly, pronouncing every syllable. They roll off her tongue like candy, each word full and round. "Am I right?"

Ellie gives her a prolonged look, her gaze sliding down Tatiana's eyes towards her lips. She gets closer, and tall as she is, forces Tatiana to look up at her.

"I don't want to be talking about that woman," she whispers in a husky voice, close to Tatiana's ear, sending filaments of shivers up her back, weakening her knees a little bit.

Tatiana looks around, slightly ashamed to discover her legs itching to part. Ellie stands so close that the heat of her body strokes her skin, and even little breaths can be felt, raising the net of goosebumps around Tatiana's body.

"What do you want to talk about?" Tatiana swallows a bit loudly, keeping her gaze up.

Ellie raises her hand, her fingers wrapped by heavy rings make their gentle way up and down Tatiana's throat, stroking her delicate skin. Tatiana leans in closer, enchanted and hot, desire now in full swing in her mind, pumping her boiling blood with force.

Ellie's lips raise their corners in a little smile, seeing her thirsty eyes. She leans in, sticking her tongue out and tracing Tatiana's lips.

"Kiss me," Tatiana whispers, impatient and in a feverish state of want.

"Well not here," Ellie clicks her tongue, looking around. "But if you go with me to the bathroom… I'll fuck you the way you deserve it."

Oh, fuck. Yes.

The sudden force of her voice sends a wave down Tatiana's legs. Now she really wants to get fucked like she deserves it, whatever that may be in Ellie's mind. She can feel her heartbeat pulsing in her neck, her thoughts overflowing with dirty imaginings. There was nothing about Ellie that prepared her for this, she thought at first, but now she understands. The comprehension fills up her mind, making her hungry to hear more.

A bit dazed, she looks around, takes Ellie's hand, and sneakily leads her to the bathroom. She feels like a teenager again, an insolent brat about to get in trouble. The thought only makes Ellie's promise more appealing.

They enter and the bathroom stands empty, in its full invitation to commit something salacious. Ellie closes the door behind them, and grabs Tatiana closer to her.

"So, you don't appreciate my art?" she demands, distractingly close to Tatiana's face.

"Ellie—" Tatiana begins, confused, but is quickly interrupted.

"Don't lie to me," Ellie shakes her head slowly. "Let's play," she smiles.

A smile slowly forms on Tatiana's face as well, finally comprehending to the fullest their situation. If there is tension to be played out, so be it. She can feel her underwear get moist only thinking of Ellie's voice in her ear.

"I don't appreciate it," Tatiana admits, nodding.

"You'll appreciate something else, then," says Ellie. "Are you ready to get fucked, darling?"

Tatiana's mouth goes dry. The words ring in her ears. She certainly wasn't expecting the exhibition to turn out this way, but she isn't going to deny herself the pleasure now. She always imagined herself fucking Ellie, but this sudden twist of events, she can certainly get on board with.

"Yes, I am," she responds, compliant.

"Good," Ellie looks down at her. "Keep being good then, and go to the stall."

"Are you serious?"

"Very serious," Ellie says, stroking Tatiana's neck once more. She traces her jawline, finally slipping two fingers in her mouth. "Go now."

So Tatiana does, walking into the nearby tight bathroom stall. Her breathing gets shallow and fast, waiting for Ellie to join her. After a moment Ellie enters the stall, looking Tatiana up and down. She unzips Tatiana's pants, sliding them down. Her hand wanders in between Tatiana's thighs, feeling the wet mess of her lacy underwear and nodding. She slides that down as well.

"See? You're so pretty when you're not being rude," she teases. "Now turn around."

Tatiana does what she's told, almost shivering. The honey drops of Ellie's voice make her spread her legs a bit wider with each command, unsure what's going to happen next, but excited for everything. There's nothing in her mind now other than Ellie's touch, her words, her breath on Tatiana's skin.

"Wider, and bend over slightly," Ellie instructs patiently, laying her hand on Tatiana's ass.

Tatiana spreads her legs wider and reaches the wall, feeling her blouse lift up, exposing her entirely. The tense suspense makes her legs tremble, she tries to tame them but fails.

She feels Ellie's arms wrap around her legs, and she is aware of Ellie sinking to the floor behind her.

"You're so wet for me, dear," she observes, smirking.

She can feel Ellie's breath hot against her pussy and it almost blows her mind.

Her tongue traces Tatiana's vulva gently up and down, preparing to have her. When she starts eating Tatiana out properly, there is no mercy left. Her tongue licks up and down with a challenging but steady tempo, pressure applied just right. Tatiana's hips soon start grinding, craving more violent pleasure, craving to show how much she wants it. Ellie's tongue swirls round, and back and forth. A little moan escapes Tatiana's lips?—

"Shh. Be quiet," Ellie reminds, having to stop working her.

"I'm sorry," Tatiana manages to utter, desperate to get it back. She bites her lips and shuts her eyes.

Once back at it, Ellie begins entering Tatiana with her tongue, precise and strong. She stops, gently slapping her ass.

"Now you'll get what you deserve," she says, getting back up on her feet.

"What?" asks Tatiana, her mind half lost to the rhythm of her hips.

"I'll have you all stretched out for me, praying you could moan. Here in this public bathroom, baby," Ellie whispers into Tatiana's ear and Tatiana hears the clang of metal which she assumes is Ellie taking her rings off before sliding a finger into her from behind.

"Yes please," Tatiana manages to say, before she has to seal her mouth shut.

Ellie picks up the pace and Tatiana feels multiple fingers pushing inside of her, stretching her wide, and soon, Tatiana's thoughts evaporate. She knows this is what she wanted desperately.

Against the cold tiles of the bathroom wall, she's clenching her fists, turning her head back to look at Ellie, pushing her ass higher and trying not to cry out as Ellie's fingers fuck her hard and fast, pressing downwards at her G spot. It feels more incredible than she can ever remember any other sex feeling, this hot dirty toilet cubicle sex.

"More.. please…" she hears herself whimper and doesn't recognise her own voice.

"Oh, baby, I thought you would never ask," Ellie growls in her ear. A handful of Tatiana's hair is tight in Ellie's left hand while her right hand begins to push. Ellie is pushing more inside of Tatiana, more fingers, all of her fingers, opening her up and stretching her, so she will be taken absolutely by Ellie. Tatiana wants it so much.

She feels Ellie's hand pressuring to get inside of her and she pushes her ass back against it, desperate to take Ellie's whole hand inside her soaking wet pussy.

She feels the pressure heighten some more, for just a few seconds and she's not sure she can bare it any longer and then suddenly, relief as her whole hand slides inside.

Fuck.

"Oh god, Yes." Tatiana knows she is no longer being quiet as Ellie begins to slowly but surely rock Tatiana on her fist.

It feels exquisite and she can feel Ellie's knuckles pressing her G spot. She knows she is very very close.

Ellie begins to fuck her slow and deep with her whole hand.

"Come on, come now for me, Tatiana."

"Can I?" she gasps, strained.

The pressure feels just right, insufferably so. Ellie's hand is like a pump, forcing into her a state of unendurable ecstasy.

"Of course." Ellie is as smug as ever and even now, Tatiana hates her.

But this, this exquisite fucking, this fisting of her, this takeover of her body; it feels so very very good.

And she does what she's told, coming hard again and again, her orgasm gushing down the insides of her thighs. She hears herself crying out in ecstasy with Ellie's hand deep inside.

–

Disentangled, they sit on the bathroom floor in a short-lived silent bliss. Ellie gets up to wash her hands, watching for stains on her dress—fortunate to find none. She begins sliding her gold rings back on. Soon, knocking on the bathroom door interrupts them, reminding them both of the absurdity of their situation.

"Ellie! Are you there? People are looking for you," Fred shouts through the thick barrier. He's audibly tipsy, loudly laughing to someone else.

"Yes! I'm coming," Ellie quickly fixes herself in the mirror and rushes out of the bathroom. She doesn't cast even a glance in Tatiana's direction, only clutching her purse close.

Tatiana is left standing next to the stall, confused about what just happened. She washes her face, trying to grasp that the encounter was real, attempting to mute the little fluttering of her heart at the thought of Ellie's hands. The conversation clearly failed, not making their relationship any less convoluted. She feels the now-cold wet lace in between her thighs.

What the fuck, she thinks, picking up her things and looking for an excuse to tell everyone in order to avoid the afterparty. She drinks some of the tap water and leaves the bathroom. The crowd engulfs her, and the ruby walls seem suffocating. Home is calling.

Her car stands loyally where she left it, for once easy to find. She throws her purse inside and takes the seat, still in a state of cluttered disbelief. In a bathroom stall, she shakes her head, thinking back to high school. She turns on the radio and lets it drown out her tangled thoughts. Soon, her mind seems to enter a quiet sort of flow induced by the monotony of driving and the radio hosts' voices. She lets her mind roam free, sometimes memories or observations resurface, causing her to smirk, then pause, then smirk again.

I can still feel her hand inside of me.