Queen of Love

“How many people are you expecting in this tub?”

Genevieve was about to trip again. “Enough for tea for two.”

She hoped Aya was in the mood to relax before their afternoon plans. Then? The party, when Aya would make her grand debut as Genevieve’s latest (and greatest) girlfriend.

Aya hoped she was competent at hiding her shock and surprise at every turn. Culture shock was, after all, a factor of life no matter where she went.

Except there was culture shock of the foreign kind, and culture shock of the class kind.

All Aya knew was that it started Monday morning when she walked into work and Takatani immediately asked to see her. “Our Lady Liu wants us to send someone to Singapore to consult with her about properties since she can’t make it next week. Believe it or not, she asked for you.” Oh, Aya believed it. What she couldn’t believe was that she would be spending three whole days in Singapore on the company’s dime. Not only do I get time off, but it’s paid? Because, technically, Aya was working. Yet when Ishida heard about it, he took Aya aside and asked if there was something else going on. His concerned tone wasn’t rooted in jealousy or disdain – more like the attentive uncle who found it his duty to check in with some of his juniors when things didn’t smell right.

Aya had explained everything was fine, and she had been blindsided by this as well. Two days later, her bags were packed and she was on a first-class flight straight to Singapore, where someone’s palm had been greased and she was personally escorted through immigration in record time. The address she put down on her forms was Genevieve’s place. Technically, the premier guest house a stone’s throw from the main house, but she knew where she was really sleeping for the next few days.

In a place bigger than my company’s office.

Genevieve’s suite in her own house was like an apartment, complete with a detached efficiency kitchen as well as a separate living area, home office, master bath, and bedroom. Genevieve explained the audacious trim and some of the older furniture were holdovers from her mother’s obsession with Versailles. “She wanted to believe Marie Antoinette could come to stay with us and feel right at home.” Genevieve had injected her simpler touches over the years, but Aya still occasionally looked up to find a marble Cupid staring down.

There wasn’t much time to settle in and absorb the Lius’ architectural tastes, though. Genevieve had plans for them that afternoon, starting with a quick trip into town as soon as Aya changed into jeans and a plain T-shirt that would breathe in the Singaporean humidity rivaling Japan’s in the summer.

Did she know what to expect once they were down the hill and in the throngs of the local population? Foolish Aya had assumed an introduction to a trendy café and a favorite shop. Not what Genevieve had in mind at all.

“It’s not that what you brought to wear isn’t up to snuff,” Genevieve assured Aya in the back of her car as the man named Wesley parked into the VIP spot behind an incognito shop for the rich and famous. “God knows you look amazing in that suit you brought for tonight’s party.” She slipped her hand over Aya’s leg and squeezed her thigh. Was that meant to assuage any of Aya’s worries that she wasn’t good enough for her wealthy girlfriend? Jury’s still out. Good grief. “Except this is Singapore. Some of the women coming tonight are incredibly judgmental. I don’t want there to be any room for error in their critique of you.”

“Critique?”

“Oh, that was the wrong word to use.” That fake chuckle didn’t make Aya feel better, though. “I mean… okay, some of them are super judgmental. Even when you’re gay around here, you’re like that if you come from a certain background. Everything is a competition for either the hottest girlfriend or the most submissive partner. If you can combine both into one woman? Jesus. Don’t get me started. My friend, Wendy, hasn’t stopped bragging about her girlfriend since she landed her a few years ago.”

“I’m not…”

“So we’re going to make you the hottest woman that all of them wish they could have.” Genevieve, who had been allergic to her seatbelt the whole drive down, curled up against Aya and squeezed her thigh so hard that they both winced. “Have you ever heard of Bertram St. Jacque?”

“No.”

“He’s the biggest superstar in the fashion world that the Mediterranean has put out in recent years. This store stocks many of his off-the-rack looks. We’re talking masculine wear for women. It’s been all the rage here for quite a while. Even the straight women dress and style themselves like you, but you’re the real deal.”

“What does that mean?”

Aya hadn’t meant to sound snippy, but travel fatigue and the overwhelming experience she had so far in Singapore already had her at wit’s end. For her, I’ll keep it together. Nothing Genevieve had done seemed to come from anything but a well-meaning place. Aya, however, had a feeling she was going to learn a lot about her girlfriend’s public persona in the coming days. Or, at least, as public as Genevieve ever got.

“I’m sorry.” Genevieve pulled away, fist pressed against her chest. Her lavender slip dress had been a dream when Aya first saw her that day, but now she questioned how practical it was. “You’re not used to this. I have to remind myself.”

“Hey.” Wesley stepped out of the car to talk to the parking attendant before helping the passengers out of their seats. Aya wrapped her arm around Genevieve and brought her in for a quick cuddle. “I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“It’s… I didn’t ask if you wanted to be spoiled. Forgive me. I’m relying on old habits from previous relationships. You’re…”

“I’m fine.” Aya tipped back Genevieve’s head and lightly kissed her lips. Almost immediately, Genevieve melted in Aya’s arms. That’s more like it. “You’ve got a lot on your mind with this very important party tonight. Of course, I’ll help you in any way I can. All I ask is that it’s not physically uncomfortable and suits me.”

Genevieve pulled Aya closer. “Absolutely.” She then kissed Aya, neither of them minding the car as it became stuffier the longer the air conditioning was off.

“Ahem, Ms. Liu.”

Aya broke away from Genevieve at the sound of the driver’s voice. The door was open, and his hand was extended to help Aya from the backseat. Yet there she was, both arms around the boss and tongue about to explore one of the most forbidden places.

Aya had to hand it to everyone, though. Professionalism was such a standard in Singapore that Aya wondered if some of her local shopkeepers back in Meguro could take some lessons. Nobody batted an eye at Genevieve leading Aya in by the hand and immediately requesting Bertram St. Jacque in Aya’s size. She didn’t want to waste anyone’s time by having the shopkeepers measure Aya on the dais in their private dressing room that was the size of an apartment back in Japan.

“It does feel a little silly,” she said, shoes and T-shirt off. Her fingers hung loosely from her pockets while Genevieve admired her from the couch along the wall. “Seems like you should be the one up here being dolled up like Cinderella.”

“The day you become Cinderella sounds like a cold one in hell.” Genevieve was the most relaxed Aya had seen her yet, her ballet flat bouncing in the air as she leaned back on the couch, head propped up and one leg loosely over the other. If she weren’t careful, everyone would see what she regularly took a picture of for Aya’s perversions. I get to see it up close and personal again tonight. One hour at a time. Aya had this and a party to get through.