Page 43 of Freedom to Love

“You’re kidding.”

“No. And it’s for the best really. At least I think it is. That’s what everyone says anyway.”

“What do you say?”

“I say…I wish I lived a different life in a different world where my name and family didn’t matter. Where I didn’t have to worry about my name and my family. Where I could be free. Free to fly. Fly to her and be with her.” She closed her eyes again and let the warmth of that thought overcome her. “I just want to fly, fly far away.”

* * *

Blush was crowded. Brynn awoke to a honking horn and a cussing Holly.

“That’s my space!”

Brynn straightened and tried to check herself in the rearview mirror as Holly swung into the one and only parking spot left. “I slept the whole way?” She didn’t remember falling asleep, and she felt kind of bad about it. Holly had to drive the forty-five minutes in silence since the Nova no longer had a functioning radio.

“Just about,” she said, nudging Brynn over for her own once-over in the mirror.

Brynn climbed from the car and stretched. Night had completely fallen and yet it was still muggy as hell. Cars huddled in lines, and behind the lot, lightning bugs hung in the air. Brynn looked up for the clouds. She smelled rain.

“It’s gonna pour isn’t it?”

“This late?” Holly waved her off. “I wouldn’t say pour.”

“I bet it does,” Brynn said, seeing no stars. Holly was right. In the summer, storms usually came in the afternoon. But she had a feeling about this one. It was definitely brewing, having built up for so long, biding its time. It was damn near ready to burst.

“I bet it doesn’t.” Holly walked by her side as they headed for the door. “I’ll bet you a fine cigar it doesn’t.”

Brynn shook her hand. “You’re on.”

The live music could be heard before they hit the door. Blush shown in red neon over the door of the old brick building. Years ago it had been a warehouse, then a sports bar, and now…the gays had taken control. Brynn smiled as they walked in, loving the music, the space, the low light. She held on to Holly’s back as they headed for the bar. The inside was plush with deep purples and reds. Tables circled the large dance floor and lounges were toward the back. Black-and-white photos hung on the wall, the owner an avid photographer. She sometimes walked the floor, asking people to come sit for her. She had a good eye for models. Brynn loved looking at the photos of the beautiful models with angled jaws, high cheekbones, and wicked eyes. One of the photos, one of a blonde with slicked back hair, actually looked a lot like Kat Vander. She pointed to it and started to say something, but Holly pointed toward the stage where a small indie band from the area was playing. Brynn had heard them before. Their lyrics were dark, brooding, vampire-ish. Four women singing about sucking on another woman’s skin, yep, that did it for her. And she guessed it did it for the others as well since they were back performing.

She bounced next to Holly and placed her elbows on the bar. “What should we have?” she asked her.

Holly was bobbing her head, grinning. She grabbed her head and yelled in her ear. “Tequila!”

“No kidding?”

Holly jumped up and down. “Yes, let’s do it.”

Brynn ordered, shook off the Cuervo, and pointed to the Patron. They took their two shots each, found the salt and waited for the limes. They did the first two shots back-to-back and danced. Brynn signaled for another. Her face started to warm as they did the third one.

“I can’t even taste it,” Holly said.

Brynn paid and led her to the dance floor. They searched the crowd, like sharks waiting for the scent of blood. There were many attractive women, but Brynn found that she really didn’t want to dance with any of them. Instead, she took Holly’s hand and led her out under the lights. Her buzz was coming full on and she felt so good, so light, so warm. She moved into her and they throbbed with the others, in sync with the lights. Holly kept throwing her arms up in the air and yelling. Brynn laughed and did it with her a few times. They danced to song after song, and soon the lights dimmed even more and the strobes slowed as the lead singer cuffed the mic and belted out lyrics with low, deep music.

“How about that kiss now?” Holly asked.

Brynn leaned into her. “What?”

“That kiss you owe me.” She laughed, and before Brynn could stop her, she had pulled her in and planted her mouth on hers, seeking with her tongue. For a split second Brynn fell into it, having not had any human contact in four years. But Holly was going too far, grabbing her ass and holding her fast while she tried to swallow her whole.

Brynn finally managed to pull away. She started to yell at her, but she saw a face behind her. It was spotlighted in blue, light, slicked back hair, angled jaw, high cheekbones. Brynn inhaled sharply as her heart flooded with hot blood. Kat Vander was standing there, skin ashen, hard look on her face. Holly caught Brynn’s stare and turned. Vander eyed her, then looked back to Brynn.

The singer crooned out dark words. Words that penetrated, piercing Brynn’s heart, making her bleed.

Your clit, sharp and dangerous,

Slices into my mouth,

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