This was sent out for a British publication that pays pretty well, but I have a feeling is difficult to get into. The anthology has to do with fashion and/or shopping.
Hope you enjoy!
OUT OF FASHION (FF, Toys)Copyright ©2006 by Crystal Barela
This story contains sexually explicit scenes! If you are offended by FF sex, stop reading now!
On the dance floor Danielle moved as if she had no bones, like a jellyfish. She was the music, all movement and loose limbs. I first saw her at a club in the Village, under flashing colored lights and an outdated disco ball. Ivory skin glowed with perspiration and I felt its heat as I moved with her.
We didn’t speak, we danced. The beat entered our blood and chased us across the drink splattered floor in unison. Her hands on my hips had been a welcome surprise. My pussy became liquid as the music took hold, swimming from song to song until last call.
Then she had left without saying a word.
Now she stood in front of me in nothing but a leotard, her long limbs seeming to stretch to her silver-grey eyes. Her arms were extended above her head, fingers twisted in a casual clasp. All her weight was on her right foot, hip jutting out in the exaggerated pose of a mannequin in a window at Saks.
I set my stick of charcoal down on my easel and rubbed my hands nervously on my jeans-covered thighs. I drew deliberate breaths, trying to slow my heartbeat. Our usual fashion illustration model had broken her leg and the semester would finish with Danielle standing in front of me for five hours a day, two days a week.
Danielle changed position, turning so that her ass faced me. She was looking over her shoulder in my direction. Our eyes met and she winked. So she did remember. (Continued in Comments)
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(Continued from blog entry)
When not occupied by classes, my mind had been on her and that one night downtown. I dropped her gaze and picked up my charcoal again. Just because Danielle had been a fire in my system since that night at the club did not mean I wasn’t going to concentrate.
The charcoal became an extension of my hand as I traced the shape of her body. With each clothing change my eyes found the curve of hip and gentle rise of breast beneath the fabric. Figure and form leaped off the newsprint. I caressed her skin with my eyes, imagining running my fingers through her dark hair and then─
‘Break,’ our instructor called from behind me.
I let out the breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding. This was the best work I’d ever done.
‘Feeling inspired today, Layla?’
I gave my teacher a grin and took out my can of fixative. I held the drawing away from me and gave it a spray so the charcoal wouldn’t smudge.
If Danielle was going to be our model for the rest of the semester, I was going to create my best work yet. Danielle would be my muse. I watched her climb down off the podium in the center of the room, grab a threadbare kimono from her bag and wrap the silk around her body. Like royalty she toured the classroom, walking behind easels, taking in the likenesses of herself.
I took a swig of water and sat back on my stool, waiting for her to reach me.
As she approached, she shook the scrunchy that had been around her wrist and lifted her arms to pull her dark hair up in a pony-tail. The long wings of fabric slid to her elbows revealing the toned muscles of her forearms. I swallowed.
‘You catch movement well,’ Danielle said, reaching over my shoulder to run a finger along the newsprint. Her nails were short, bitten down, the home done French manicure chipped.
‘You move well,’ I replied.
The heat of her pressed near my back.
She chuckled, her breasts brushing my shoulder blades. Again, only two layers of clothing separated us.
‘What are you doing for supper?’ Danielle asked.
***
Danielle met me in front of the school in the courtyard. She was sitting on the metal park bench, a bag next to her stuffed full with clothing changes for her fashion model work. Sunglasses, big and round like Jackie O’s sat upon her small upturned nose. A red hand-knit scarf with specks of silver was wrapped around her neck and shoulders.
‘I never thought I’d see you again,’ Danielle said, rising to give me a hug.
‘Which would have been your fault, not mine.’
‘Don’t hold that against me.’ She took my hand in hers and hope rose in my chest. Her thumb brushed across my knuckles.
‘It’s better this way,’ she said. Danielle pulled me down the two steps in front of the school building and onto the sidewalk. ‘People who meet in clubs are just there for a fuck.’
New Yorkers rushed around us as we stood at the curb. Danielle extended her arm in the air and with a graceful wave she magically summoned a yellow cab. This was a feat that usually took me close to ten minutes, and even then, I had to nearly throw myself in front of the speeding cars to just get them to stop. A portfolio and art box always proved a deterrent when there was a quicker fare just up the block.
Danielle opened the door for me. ‘We don’t just want to fuck. We want more than that.’ She tugged the edge of my knit cap down my forehead and tapped my nose with her gloved finger. Something squeezed my heart.
‘What else do we want?’ I asked.
‘Dinner.’ Danielle laughed.
I hopped into the cab and slid across the seat, dragging my gear with me. Danielle pressed in after me, her big bag between us. She sat sideways so that her knees touched my leg.
‘Where are we going?’ I asked.
‘I just love Indian food, don’t you? There’s a place near my apartment that has awesome mango lhassas.’
***
Three hours later, our bellies were full of food and we were in Danielle’s small East Village studio apartment. It was cold. Wind howled against the windows causing the candles to flicker. Magazine clippings of supermodels wallpapered the apartment. I wasn’t sure if their made up stares were creepy or exciting.
The only place to sit in the room was her Norwegian Wood, and we snuggled under the layers of blankets.
‘Why do you want to be a model?’
‘Travel, fame, money…’ she pulled the blankets up around our shoulders. ‘…heat.’
‘I can help you with that.’ I slipped my arm under her neck, then around her shoulders. Our bodies tilted together.
Danielle purred and wrapped her arm around my waist. She slipped her hands under my shirt and I yelped. ‘You’re freezing!’
She giggled against my cheek as her cold fingers found my breasts. My nipples were painfully tight, not only from her icicle-like fingers, but from her knees bumping mine and her breath on my lips.
‘Not where it counts.’ Danielle took my hand and slipped it beneath the waistband of her pants. My fingers slid through her soft curls and were enveloped by the humid heat of her pussy. She moaned against my neck, her breath warming my skin, and spreading goose bumps.
I pressed softly, her pussy swallowing my index finger with a smooth sigh. With soft slow movements her hips began to move, following my palm.
Our lips brushed.
I leaned over and traced Danielle’s lower lip, gently pulling it between my teeth. Her breath caught and her hips pressed harder. My knee slid across her thigh and between her legs.
Danielle’s thighs squeezed mine. I nibbled my way from her lips to her neck, sucking and biting a trail down to her nipples while keeping the pressure on her pussy. Lying on her back, she was flat-chested and nothing but nipple. They were raspberry in color and drawn tight together. I sucked them deep, rolling their puckered hardness under my tongue.
My fingers were in her, sliding in her juices, her hips undulating. I licked my way over her ribs to the hollow of her belly button. I tongued the rounded bit of flesh and her stomach trembled beneath me.
‘Don’t!’ she said and I smiled against her. Her giggles weren’t what I was searching for.
Danielle moaned when I skimmed lower and found her candy. Her hard little clit was on end and slipped between my lips. An insistent push from her hips and a yank of my hair had me picking up the pace. I was happy to lap up her sweetness and took her ass in my hands to suck her dry.
***
The apartment I shared with three other girls soon became too crowded with Danielle and our need to be together. I was spending most of my free time at her place anyhow. Within a month I was living in her studio and life became one of school and Danielle. They were what I lived for.
For eight months we played house and I believed that my move to New York had been fate. I would be a successful fashion designer and my love would be my muse. I would create my designs for her and we would live out our life in the world of happily ever after.
‘Fifteen minutes girls!’ Vivian, the stage manager, shouted from stage right. She could have been a model as well with her swept up blonde hair and smooth skin. The clipboard in her hand took the brunt of her tension with angry scribbles before she set her pencil behind her ear.
I was Danielle’s dresser, working the Versace show for school credit. It had been two years since I had seen Danielle in person and not from a billboard in Times Square. One day she had left me, with nothing but a hastily written note. Within a month was on the cover of Vogue.
My life had been consumed with fashion. Her departure had renewed my commitment to my work and nothing else mattered. My life was fashion.
It wasn’t a hardship to be around such beautiful clothes. The rich textures and colors surrounding me were like an aphrodisiac. My blood was hot in my veins and picking up speed as the models shimmied into the latest looks. It would be an intense half hour.
I glanced at my watch. Late as always. There were ten minutes until curtain and Danielle had yet to arrive. My impatience was beginning to match Vivian’s.
This was to be my last show. Only a month until graduation and two weeks until the school fashion show.
To ease my tension I double-checked my rack again and the Polaroid’s of the designer’s styles. The clothes were hung in sequential order. Corresponding shoes were laid out in a neat row at my feet, and I had already taken a razor to their soles to give Danielle more traction on the runway. Jewelry was laid out on the table by the runway entrance.
Backstage was crowded with models in various stages of undress with the harried dressers chasing after them. Some were completely clothed from head to toe, their make-up the perfect mask of beauty. The model at the rack to the left of mine paced nervously, twisting her manicured hands.
To the right, a brunette stood in nothing but trousers and smoked a cigarette. The seam down the front of the slacks was pressed to a hard point and broke at her ankle in a flattering crease. I could see the barest quarter inch of heel beneath the hemmed cuff. Her dresser stood anxiously, clutching a poppy colored top and whenever she offered the blouse, her model would tell her to fuck off, and then take another drag of her cigarette.
Others were nude, their thin bodies twisting into the current fashions Versace had to offer.
‘At last, she makes an entrance!’ Vivian said. ‘Be quick about it,’ Vivian moved on, meeting my eyes as Danielle’s long limbs carried her across the room.
‘Layla.’ Danielle whispered, her step faltering. A black leather jacket hung limply from her fingers. I took the soft leather and threw it under the rack.
My hands went to the buttons at the top of Danielle’s shirt and I slipped them from their holes, knuckles brushing breast and stomach while she stepped out of her skirt.
I would remain calm, professional.
‘Danielle,’ I said. I hooked my thumbs in the strings of her thong and pulled the fabric down her slim hips and legs. I knelt to remove her shoes, breathing in the familiar odor of her pussy, and saw a startling new bare mound.
Maintain composure.
My fingers made quick work of her shoe buckles as she clutched my head for support.
‘Traffic was a nightmare,’ she said.
I stood, and pulled the chartreuse top from the rack. It was lighter than air and fell around Danielle’s torso with a flutter, the deep cowl neck giving me a healthy glimpse of breast and the halter leaving nearly all of her back bare. I handed her the bone colored slacks threaded with gold and helped her secure the waistband at her hip.
‘Five minutes!’
Danielle dashed off to the make-up tables, and I followed, gold pumps in hand. The make-up artist swept over her face, blotting shine and heightening color while I sat at my model’s feet, buckling her heels.
‘Danielle!’ the stage manager called and Danielle shot off her seat. She would be the first to launch the line.
The music picked up a catwalk rhythm, the sound like a heartbeat.
Near the curtain entrance, Danielle crouched down so I could secure her necklace while she slipped the large gold loops through her ears. She stood; her hands smoothed the fabric at her hips.
‘Perfect,’ I breathed. My throat closed up. This wasn’t going to work.
Danielle smiled down at me.
My heart beat in time with the music.
The stage manager held up ten fingers, folding one down at a time.
Danielle bent and brushed her lips against mine. ‘For luck.’
For a moment I was transported back to the curb outside our old apartment. Before I took off for class and she made the rounds at the agencies we would kiss and say…I shook my head and stepped into the background as the curtain was pulled back.
Flashbulbs salted my vision enveloping Danielle in a halo of light.
Danielle was straight and proud; her strides carrying her down the stretch of stage like she was a part of the runway. She was one with her environment. Sleek. Not like the figure drawing model of our past, but a confident face known around the world.
The next model followed and I hurried back to my rack. There were less than five minutes between changes. I took the red summer dress in my hands and fingered the thin fabric. It was as smooth as Danielle’s skin.
Danielle stood over me and I lay between her feet. My hands skimmed from ankle to calf, to the sensitive spot behind her knees. She bit her lower lip and my fingers made small little circles. Her knees began to tremble and with a little pressure she dropped, her smooth ass sliding against my stomach and her pussy hairs swimming in my belly button.
I shook my head. Damn!
The skirt was layers of sheer silk chiffon. When worn, the fabric would dance around her thighs, teasing the audience with the silhouette of the long legs underneath.
Danielle burst through the curtain, raced toward me, and pulled her top over her head as she went.
The halter fell to the floor and I held up the dress for Danielle to step into. We got the dress over her head and I knelt to remove her shoes, her pants falling on my arms while I worked.
‘Sling backs, thank God!’ she whispered, kicking the slacks to the side.
I held the shoes out for her and she slipped her feet in with a twist of her ankle. I stood.
‘How’s my face?’ Danielle asked. She pursed her lips and closed her gold and rust dusted lids, the fake lashes leaving shadows on her cheeks. The make-up artist hadn’t needed to add much to her flawless skin or plump lips.
I took a tube of lipstick from my apron pocket, the same shade as her dress.
‘Wait,’ she said. She pushed me into the rack, the clothes a cushion between me and the wall as she kissed me hard. Her tongue plunged between my lips and my knees went weak. I nearly hated her for it.
‘Danielle!’ was shouted from stage right.
She pulled back, took the tube from my hands and applied the lipstick in two quick strokes before running across stage.
My heart was beating overtime. I picked up the old outfit from the floor and stuffed it under the rack so others wouldn’t trip on it. Was I going to let her do this to me?
‘I can’t believe she kissed you!’ One of my classmates exclaimed. It was Nina. ‘She didn’t even ask if you were into girls!’ She threw a dress over her model’s head. The white fabric settled around the chocolate skinned calves and Nina pulled the belt tight at the waist. The contrast of skin and fabric was stunning.
‘They had a thing,’ one of the other dressers called out from across the aisle. ‘A couple of years ago.’
I didn’t have time to respond because Danielle was back, shimmying her hips so the dress was a puddle at her feet.
The next outfit was an evening ensemble. Black linen tuxedo slacks. Instead of the usual shiny tuxedo seam, Versace had inserted a nude stripe of fabric than ran from hip to ankle. A sheer white ruffled front shirt with dramatic French cuffs would finish the look.
‘Why did you leave?’ I asked, keeping my voice level and holding the slacks for her to step into.
Danielle placed her hands on my shoulders, her small boy breasts at lip level. Her nipples were hard and butted my cheek when she twisted her hips so that I could pull the pants up her legs. My hands went to the clasp at her waist and her hand pressed my palm against her through the fine fabric.
‘I had a flight to Milan at four in the morning,’ she said. Danielle tucked the tails of her thin voile shirt into her slacks, leaving the front buttons undone. A long vee of skin was exposed.
‘A flight to─? Oh, for fucks sake!’ I slipped my fingers between the teeth of the zipper, cupping smooth damp skin. Her clit pulsed against my palm.
She met my eyes and I slipped a finger in. Her smile faltered. ‘I didn’t have the heart to tell you I was leaving.’
‘Danielle!’ Vivian called from center stage.
I pulled my hand free and she stepped into her black loafers, zipping her slacks as she ran toward the stage.
Nina’s eyes were wide, but they widened even further when I brought my fingers to my mouth for a taste of Danielle. Familiar. Heavy and rich like crème brulee’. God, I’d missed her. My body ached with it and so did my heart.
I hung up the dress. Danielle had close to ten minutes for the next change. It was the finale, and she was to wear a formal gown. It took a little more getting into. The models’ stage order was reversed, leaving Danielle to finish off the show.
Donatella had gone all out with this dress, black feathers being the prominent covering. They had been painstakingly sewn into the nude mesh of the bodice and torso of the garment. Long black feathers fanned out over the hips. The greens and blues would be picked up in the stage lights. There was also a headpiece with this ensemble. I took it from the box and fell into the wall as weight tumbled into my back.
The clothes billowed around us and Danielle pressed into me, pussy against my ass. Her hands slipped around my waist and unbuttoned my Levis with a flick of her wrist and a drag of zipper. My heart was racing and I could barely breathe, fabric against my face, around my head. Danielle’s breath hot on my neck.
Eyes shut tight, colorful flecks danced on my lids, in time with her fingers in my pussy. I tried to ask her to stop, tell her to dress, but instead I moaned, my hips flying with her fingers to the beat of the music.
My body turned inward, heat flushing my face and limbs.
Danielle stepped away from me and laughed, the sexy timbre sliding along my spine. I straightened; the headpiece had been crushed between me and the wall. I cursed and she laughed again as I worked at fixing the feathers and sequins.
‘We’ll finish this after,’ she said, pulling the dress around her. Danielle took the headpiece from me and secured it in her hair while my trembling fingers managed to do the dozens of hooks that stretched from ass to shoulder blade. I buckled her shoes, running on auto pilot and Danielle was gone in a swirl of taffeta.
‘You guys should really get a room,’ Nina said.
‘Oh, I plan on it.’
***
We couldn’t wait for the room. The taxi driver was getting a little girl on girl action as our lips locked.
Four hands raced over fabric, pulling at buttons, wanting to touch skin, searching for memories and finding them.
Danielle was on my leg, her bare thighs squeezing when the driver stopped the car at the light. My eyes caught his in the rearview mirror and he winked from under his cap.
‘Danielle, please─’
‘I’m trying,’ she breathed. ‘Your zipper’s caught.’
My hand was under her skirt and I slipped her thong aside. She tilted her hips and my fingers slipped home. Danielle rocked against me and I curved my hand so that I could hit that spot she liked.
Her moans dropped low in her throat.
We were stuck in traffic. The taxi was stop and go.
Danielle’s breast was free and I took her nipple in my mouth and sucked hard, my thumb pressing her clit. She collapsed against me and groaned, sobbing my name.
***
We lay on her bed in her uptown apartment. Danielle was asleep, her long hair spread out around her in a silky disarray. Our legs were entwined and as much as I wanted to hate her for leaving me, I couldn’t.
I slipped my leg from between hers and she frowned, her arm stretching across the space between us to pull me close. For a moment I lay there, home. But it wasn’t the same. Not really. I rolled out of the bed with a sigh.
With our mad tumble into her place I hadn’t seen anything but white sheets and creamy skin. It was as if our time apart had left us starved for each other. The elevator ride up to her apartment was spent with my back pressed against the wall and her hand in my pants. We were through the door and ripping off our clothes before it shut behind us.
Danielle had bent me over the couch, her nipples like rocks against my back. Her hand was between my thighs, her thumb crawling along my ass crack. I shook my head and walked into the living room.
Gone was the magazine clip wallpaper. In its place were the cool, clean lines of a professional interior designer. But the modern edged space was nothing compared to the view awaiting me at the floor to ceiling windows. Central Park stretched out in front of me in the setting sun, the lawns and trees green with the bounty of spring. A far cry from the studio I was still living in downtown.
My stomach gave a rumble and I realized it was near time for dinner. In the drawer beside the dishwasher, just like in our old place, I found a stack of take-out menus. Some things didn’t change, but I had.
I shut the drawer and gathered my clothes from the living room floor. From where I was shimmying into my jeans I could see Danielle’s hair hanging in a silky curtain to the floor. I pulled my shirt over my head. She shifted and the strands waved at me, called to me. Touch me, breathe me. I took a step closer to her…and I’ll break your heart.
I shook my head and leaned back against the white leather sofa bringing my knee up to slip on my sneaker. Not again.
***
Tonight was the night I celebrated my hard earned BFA from Parsons in fashion design. I sat in the balcony of one of the many ballrooms at the Marriot in Times Square, a glass of champagne in hand, and wearing an evening gown I had made myself.
The sapphire blue brought out the reds in my brown hair and brightened my eyes to the same color as the fabric. The empire waistline was flattering for my figure, hiding the fact that I was a little broad in the hips with the long draped lines reaching the floor.
The rehearsal went well, my model carrying my clothes with smooth grace. I took another sip of my champagne and the music began to rock. My designs would be numbers twelve and thirty-seven. One after the other, the models began their dance; their movements on the narrow strip of stage frenetic.
There was nothing more exciting than seeing my designs on a runway.
My heart froze, and then picked up a rapid ta-too.
Except seeing my clothes on Danielle.
Strutting towards me in high-healed glory was Danielle in my pain-stakingly sewn pantsuit. At the end of the runway she tossed her hair and sent me a sassy smile. The poplin hem on the belted jacked made her waist seem even smaller than it was. The crisp seam down the front of the slacks gave her an extra couple of inches in height. It looked as though the suit were made for her.
It was.
Danielle blew me a kiss and turned in a circle before heading back down the runway.
My skirt in hand, I hurried across the balcony and out the door into the lobby area. I had to get backstage. I ran down the circular staircase and through the double doors on the auditorium floor. The tables were a maze, and I had guests giving me annoyed looks. I suppose I would be annoyed too if I had paid four hundred dollars for my seat and my view was obstructed, but I finally made it to the stage doors.
‘Danielle!’ I called. Both hands held up my dress as I made my way around discarded outfits. It was warm and crowded and I felt moisture gather on my upper lip. ‘Dan─’
There she was. Her back was to me, but the fire engine gown was mine. The beads I had spent countless hours sewing on shimmered in the dim light, accentuating the delicate curve of her slim hips. The open back cut low enough to see the dimples of her ass.
Danielle looked over her shoulder and caught my eye. The smile on her face was only for me. This time we will work, the curve of her lips told me. This time is forever.
***
None of them were right! Frustrated, I flipped through the pile of 8X10 glossies and then turned to the form in my bed. My newest lover’s name was Victoria and if I were to stand her next to Danielle they could have been sisters—or mother and daughter. Victoria was just nineteen, the age I had been when I met Danielle for the first time.
And now Danielle had left me again. Not interested in my design house. Not interested in the years we had spent building up to this moment. I took another sip of my drink.
I tried not to be bitter. Now Danielle would be a star. Not just a familiar face on a magazine cover, but a supermodel turned actress. Steven Spielburg himself had called her, asked her to be a part of his movie. How could I ask her to stay? But she had never even discussed it with me. Another note had left me alone with my first line of sportswear to fit and no one to fit it on.
‘Fuck!’I tossed my pen across my desk.
Victoria shifted in her sleep and the sheet slid down to reveal the crack of her ass. I got up from my desk and let my robe fall to the floor as I walked over to the bed. I trailed a finger from her knee to thigh, and thigh to ass. Such soft skin.
If Danielle refused to be my fit model then Victoria would do. In general I didn’t combine business and pleasure but I would make an exception this time. She was perfect.
I took the bottle of lube from the nightstand and poured a generous amount into my hands then rubbed it along the length of my harnessed dildo. Sheet aside, I crawled onto the bed and moved Victoria’s thighs further apart. She shifted, her mouth falling open, the wet tip of her pink tongue glistening.
With one hand I took hold of her hip and the other my rubber dick. I leaned forward, my dildo sliding against her pussy lips. Victoria moaned softly but didn’t wake.
I felt the toy catch hold and twisted it against her hole.
‘Lay— ‘
I sank into her slowly, her pussy making sucking noises as it took in inch after inch. Victoria moaned, her fingers clutching the sheets. I was flush against her, harness against her ass, pinning her to the mattress. She tried to move her hips and I slapped my hand against her hip.
‘Be still!’ I pulled out and slammed into her. Victoria cried out, unprepared, but I rammed her again. I began to pump and her hands shot out to the wall, pushing back against me as I fucked her hard. I slid my hand in between our bodies and smeared her juices along the crack of her ass and pressed against her tight little rosebud with my thumb.
Victoria sobbed my name when the tip of my finger slipped in, her hole tightening around the digit. I began to move in her cunt again, my finger twisting in her anus, slipping deeper and deeper. She was begging me and I pulled my dildo free and pressed it against the tighter hole.
‘No!’ she protested, but pressed her ass back against my dick.
I held the cock in my hand. The rubber was slippery and with a hard nudge the head went in. I slid my free hand around to her pussy and rubbed her clit in slow circles. I pulled her up and the dildo slipped deeper and deeper, until she was squatting on my lap.
Victoria began to move on the dick, her ass slamming against my thighs. I massaged her clit and it pulsed against my fingers. I tweaked her nipple and she began to tremble.
Breathing hard I pushed her back onto the bed again and fucked her ass.
Danielle’s smile was in my head. Her laughter rang in my ears. I fucked her harder and Victoria screamed, her orgasm racking her body as she collapsed against the bed. I continued to ram her ass until my body joined hers, quaking against her.
***
It had been years, three at least since Danielle had spoken to me, and the first thing she said was, ‘It’s time.’
I froze at the sound of her voice, safety pin pressed between my lips and chalk between my fingers. My other hand was on Victoria’s hip, holding the fabric taut for the pinning. Danielle shut the door behind her, drowning out the whispering of the curious behind her.
Danielle wore a long buff colored leather trench coat that skimmed her chocolate brown boots. The sunglasses were similar in shape to the ones she wore on that first afternoon together in college. I took the safety pin from my mouth and set it carefully in the holder on the table, my heart picking up speed. Why did she do this too me?
‘Do you have an appointment?’ asked Patricia, my pattern maker.
Victoria looked over her shoulder and shrieked out from under my hands. ‘Danielle! Danielle Donahue!’ She raced over and threw her arms around Danielle who had frozen in the doorway when faced with her biggest fan. ‘This is amazing! I can’t believe you’re here!’
Danielle held Victoria away from her and tilted her sunglasses down her nose so that she could peek over the frames. Her sassy eyes took in the long limbs and similar bone structure, then met my own. ‘You do have an eye, don’t you?’
‘All in a days work.’ I answered.
‘Excuse me, Miss Donahue. We are in the middle of a fitting,’ Patricia said, all business. Patricia stuck her pencil behind her ear and crossed her arms across her chest. Victoria was paid by the hour.
‘My apologies,’ Danielle said. She turned Victoria in our direction and gave her a little scoot with a pat on the ass. ‘Back to work.’
Danielle sat herself in the chair at the end of the table and crossed her legs. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her remove her glasses and leather gloves, while I pinned the trousers.
‘I have been studying your work, Miss Donahue,’ Victoria said. ‘Ever since I was twelve!’
Danielle raised a brow and said, ‘That’s not very long.’
‘Long enough to know I want to be just like you!’
‘We’re done, Vee,’ I said. ‘Go ahead and change.’
Patricia looked at her watch, then the clock on the wall and frowned.
Victoria ran behind the changing screen. ‘You were on the cover of Cosmo,’ she continued. ‘April ’97, in a black Dolce & Gabbana bathing suit and this amazingly wide brimmed straw sunhat.’
I remembered that cover. The ground had been lemon yellow and Danielle’s hair had been long, half-way down her back, not the page boy cut she had now.
‘I still have the magazine.’
I did too.
‘Okay, Victoria,’ Patricia said. ‘Can you come back in Monday for an hour?’
‘How about two o’clock?’ Victoria answered.
Patricia nodded and rose to leave.
‘Will you please leave a copy of your notes on Jone’s desk?’ I asked. Jone was my assistant.
‘Of course.’ Patricia said, gathering her notebooks and the hangers heavy with fit samples.
Victoria ran out from behind the screen, magazine held between her lips and tucking her shirt into her low-slung jeans. She tossed the glossy periodical on the table and it slid to a stop in front of Danielle. ‘Can I get your autograph?’
Danielle took a black marker from her clutch purse. Her eyes met mine as she signed.
‘Isn’t this amazing, Layla?’ Victoria ran over and gave me a hug. She planted a kiss on my lips, forgetting my rule of keeping work and our private life separate.
‘Vee,’ I said with a hint of warning.
‘Sorry,’ Victoria whispered, then kissed me again, her hands holding my head to keep me still. ‘I’m just so tickled.’ She snatched up her coat, then the magazine and skipped out of the office.
The room was silent.
‘A bit young for you, don’t you think?’
‘None of your business.’
There was silence again.
‘I want to accept your business proposition.’
‘That offer expired three years ago.’
‘Not as a fit model, your private business.’
I met her eyes. ‘I’m taken.’
‘Fuck, Layla…hasn’t enough time passed?’
‘For you to break my heart a third time?’
‘My heart hurt too…’
‘Not enough for you to stay.’ I picked up the stray safety pins from the table and threw them into the tin with a repetitive ping. ‘Not enough for you to work with me.’ I gathered my flat sketches together. ‘Not enough for you to return my calls!’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry! For more than ten years you’ve been leaving me hot and cold and all you can offer me is sorry!’ I couldn’t hold back the rage and that made me even angrier.
‘I’m ready,’ Danielle said, standing. She came toward me and I backed away, hitting the mannequin behind me. ‘Ready to settle down, Layla.’
‘Settle down? You have some balls!’
‘I thought that was one of the things you liked about me.’ She pressed forward, her body inches from mine.
Heat crawled up under my skin unbidden.
‘Love about me.’ Her breath tickled my ear as she spoke. When I didn’t answer, she moved in for the kill, sliding her body against mine, nibbling her way from my ear to my lips.
My insides were on fire.
‘Loved,’ I whispered.
She froze.
‘Past tense.’
‘Layla, I…’
‘I need to think Danielle.’ I slid out from under her and gathered my sketch books. ‘You always move in too fast and I can’t think straight.’
I walked past her to the doorway and turned. Her hair had fallen across her cheek, and her lipstick was smeared onto her upper lip. She had never looked more beautiful.
I turned and walked down the hall.
***
When I arrived home, the aroma of dinner cooking drifted toward me in a tempting wave. Victoria was a wiz in the kitchen. I tossed my briefcase on the table by the door and I hurried toward the smell.
‘Is that you, Sweetie?’ Victoria called out from the kitchen.
‘Who else?’ I rounded the corner just as Victoria came through the kitchen doorway, apron on and glass of wine hand. She offered me the glass before pulling me close for a warm hug.
‘Dinner smells fantastic,’ I said, kissing her forehead. Sugar clung to her skin.
Victoria’s hair was piled up on her head, soft dark curls falling down to frame her face in wispy waves. Tight little ringlets had formed around her neck from her efforts in front of the stove.
‘Your favorite,’ she said and I followed her in. ‘Roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and…’ She bent to take something from the oven, her small round ass putting to mind something other than food. ‘Peach cobbler.’
I set my glass on the granite counter and came up behind her. My hands slipped between her and the apron and she gasped in surprise as I pulled her back against me. She set the cobbler on the stovetop and leaned her head back against my shoulder.
‘What’s the occasion?’ I nibbled my way from neck to ear.
‘Since you asked─’ she moaned as I gave her nipple a tweak.
‘We’re having company.’
The doorbell rang.
My eyes shot to the dining room table. There were three place settings.
‘Danielle called─’
‘Fuck!’ I stepped away quickly and Victoria stumbled against the counter. I turned the opposite direction.
‘What’s wrong?’ Victoria asked, placing a tentative hand on my shoulder.
I took the glass of wine from the counter and tossed the contents back in a single gulp, then poured another glass. ‘Nothing.’ I should have told Victoria about Danielle. We’d been together more than two years and I loved her.
I met Victoria’s eyes and saw the confusion, the worry. The doorbell rang again. ‘Answer the door, Vee. I’m fine.’
She didn’t look like she believed me, but with the third ring of the bell, she took off her apron. With a quick glance in the hall mirror she made her way to the door.
All Danielle and I had was history, I told myself as Victoria greeted Danielle with star struck awe. I took another gulp of wine and refilled my glass. Victoria and I were committed to each other.
‘Layla, look,’ Victoria said and I turned with what I hoped was a confident smile. ‘Danielle brought us flowers. Isn’t that sweet?’
Sweet was something Danielle had never been.
***
They sat beside each other, the loves of my life. Both dark-haired, both with peaches-and-cream skin, and high defined cheekbones. But where Danielle’s eyes were a cold grey, Victoria’s were a warm brown.
‘You two look like a couple of bookends,’ I said and giggled. Too much wine for me. The evening had gone well. Victoria and Danielle got along like long lost pals.
Victoria stood and came around to my side of the table.
‘Sweetie you’ve had too much wine.’ How does she read my mind? That’s why I loved Vee. She had an uncanny ability of knowing what I wanted.
Danielle took my other elbow and the two of them steered me down the hall to the bedroom. Victoria was right. I had drunk too much and sleep would definitely put things in perspective.
I sat down on the fuscia-colored comforter and Victoria pulled my sweater over my head. Danielle was at my feet unbuckling my heels.
I blinked, remembering that day with Versace.
Danielle’s hands went to the waistband of my slacks and I felt Victoria behind me unhooking my bra.
Then the heat of her breasts pressed against my shoulder blades and her palms replaced my bra cups.
I looked down at her fingers massaging my breasts. Just past her knuckles in the background was Danielle’s face looking up at me.
How much wine had I drunk?
I didn’t move as Danielle pushed my knees wide with her shoulders and dipped her head close to my pussy. In slow motion she tugged the delicate fabric of my panties aside and nudged me with her nose, and then her tongue.
‘Vee?’ Confusion washed over me as the heat flushed my insides.
Victoria shushed me, kissing my neck while Danielle’s tongue slid between my lower lips and began a rhythm that I remembered from years previous. Danielle’s fingers joined her lips, one, two, three. Spreading, widening, as Victoria kissed me and whispered love words. Held me safe.
The pressure was building in my lower body, Danielle knuckles finding resistance as she pushed against my hole. She twisted her hand left, then right and I cried out as she popped through.
Danielle met my eyes and began to move, slow at first, and then picking up pace. She was fucking me hard, as if making up for lost time, her hand sliding in and out of me, sloshing in my juices─
I woke from sleep, my heart racing. Sweat coated my skin and an ache was pulsing between my legs.
Victoria’s head was on my stomach, her soft hair spread across me. Her long body was lying diagonal across the bed, her feet hanging off the side. I ran my fingers through her hair softly and took a deep breath.
Victoria’s damp breath wet my belly button. She deserved to know about Danielle.
I should tell her.
I let my fingers tangle in her hair and tugged softly.
‘Vee?’
She made a sound of questioning ascent in her sleep.
‘I need to talk, Vee.’
Victoria turned over onto her other side, her eyes blinking up at me. ‘Y’ okay?’
***
The table was set for three, just like it had been in my dream, but this time when the doorbell rang I answered the door.
Danielle pulled me into her perfumed embrace, then came into the apartment.
‘This is lovely,’ she said, handing me a bottle of wine.
I was going to stay away from that.
‘Did you cook?’ she asked. Danielle sniffed the air as she took off her jacket.
‘No, Vee did.’
Danielle froze.
‘You know I don’t have much of a hand in the kitchen,’ I said.
Just then, Victoria ran out from the kitchen, apron splattered with food and hair up in a lop-sided ponytail. She wore no make-up, which made her look even younger. Her smooth skin glowed.
‘
Welcome,’ she said. ‘Layla told me you were a vegetarian, but that you eat fish.’
‘Yes,’ Danielle said, handing me her jacket.
I took the jacket down the hall to the spare bedroom and when I came back, Danielle was in front the free floating shelves in the living room. Her arms were crossed over her stomach. She held a picture of me and Victoria in Ireland from last summer. It was a favorite of mine, though not for its photographic genius. There was none, but for the obvious happiness in our eyes. We had taken it by holding the camera up over our heads and praying that we were both in the shot.
‘How long have you been together?’ She asked. Her voice flat.
‘More than two years,’ I said.
‘Two years, three months and sixteen days,’ Victoria said from behind us.
Danielle and I turned and she held out wine glasses for the two of us.
‘Layla interviewed me for the fit model position.’
The one Danielle hadn’t wanted.
‘I knew she was the one from the moment I walked into the interview,’ Vee said wrapping her arm around my waist. ‘But it took a while to convince Layla of the same thing.’
The hurt this last time had been nearly unbearable.
‘A year later we moved in together.’ Vee took my hand in hers and gave it a squeeze, before lifting my fingers for Danielle to admire. ‘Last month we had our commitment ceremony.’
The light of the diamonds on my index finger twinkled and the light that shone from Danielle’s eyes faded. Perhaps now she understood.
I liked this one. It's a little departure from your usual fare. Pleasant.
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