Queen of Love

Genevieve heard that in a completely different way. My mind goes straight to kink. The part of her that vibrated to have Aya do those things to her was conflicted with the part that didn’t want to compromise their professional relationship. I mean, this is the woman who was on top of me for half the night. The way she grabbed my wrists and used my body… That was it. That was the ambrosia Genevieve wanted to consume.

“You know,” Aya continued, cutting into Genevieve’s thoughts. “Like a person’s name. Like… Genevieve’s. Not that, though. Nobody could pronounce it without making you want to tear your hair out.”

That made Genevieve chuckle. “Lesbian’s.”

“There you go. Rezu’s.”

“What’s that mean?”

Aya waited until she had finished sipping her coffee. “Er, lesbian.”

Genevieve couldn’t help but notice that Aya’s L had a bit more R to it when she said the magic word. It’s so charming. Whenever Aya’s accent slipped, it was a lovely reminder that Genevieve was completely out of her element.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Just saying. All of the best bars had one name possessive titles. Keep it simple. Keep it pretty. Keep it borderline sexy.”

“Maybe I should hire you to be my marketer.”

“Afraid I don’t know much about that. I’ll stick to real estate.”

Genevieve held up one of the papers. The spacious apartment in Hiro-o cost about as much as her condo in Taipei. Not that it surprised her. Genevieve expected to pay a pretty penny for the best view, location, and amenities. “Can I keep these?” she asked.

“Of course. I was going to forward you the best ones, anyway. This saves me some time.”

“You’re not bothered that we’ve bumped into one another?”

“Why would I be bothered? I mean, it’s kinda weird but… Tokyo’s a small city when you think about it.”

Genevieve couldn’t believe she’d brought it up. “Two nights ago happened. Perhaps you wanted that in the past.”

Aya studied the contents of her coffee cup as she wrapped her hands around the base. “Ah, well… life has momentum, as an American friend of mine used to say.”

“This… is true.”

“Life’s like a ball going down the hill.” Aya motioned her hand falling down a steep incline. “It goes faster and faster. It picks things and people up along the way. Some stuff falls off. You can’t really control it. Only your reaction to it.”

“That’s quite philosophical.”

“Sou.” Aya put down her cup and gently unwrapped the plastic from the sides of her chocolate cake. The petite metal fork cut into the tip. “You want the first bite?”

Genevieve’s finger jammed into her chest. “Me?”

“I can’t eat the whole thing. It will ruin my dinner.”

“What’s for dinner?”

Aya placed the plate on Genevieve’s table. The fork soon appeared before her mouth. “Noodles, probably. I have to get to bed early. Big meeting in the morning I can’t miss.”

Genevieve politely ate the small bite of chocolate cake. Its rich flavor beguiled her tongue, much in the same way she was enchanted with Aya’s metaphors and movements. “That’s not a very good dinner.”

“Neither is chocolate cake. Yet here we are.”

Aya took a bite with the same fork. Genevieve leaned back against the bench, hair wrapping around her hand. “Here we are. Rolling down the hill.”

They were silent for a much-needed moment. Genevieve gazed at the people coming and going from the front door: the students with their bags of homework, the businesswomen and men with worry on their masked lips, and the elderly making the most of another evening in their life. Shibuya was as abuzz as any other part of Tokyo, but Genevieve thought of Singapore as she witnessed the hustle and bustle of people this late in the evening. Like most working women of the region, Aya works late, doesn’t she?

“I’m sorry if I offended you yesterday morning,” Aya said. “I thought it best if I didn’t draw things out.”