Queen of Love

Chapter 19

“Ineverrealizehow sore my feet are until everyone has left.” Genevieve slipped her shoes off her tired feet as she sat down at her vanity and removed her dangling earrings. Aya moved behind her, slowly undressing and revealing a shirt and short set that were deliciously incongruent with one another. I always love it when their pajamas don’t match. A little chaos to spice up her orderly evenings. “I hope you enjoyed yourself. I’m really sorry I didn’t have much time during the cocktail hour to introduce you to everyone.”

Aya sat on the end of the bed after pulling her shirt over her naked torso. “Your guests were very outgoing. I barely had to walk two steps before they were shaking my hand and asking me interesting questions. It was…” She paused, looking off in thought. “Jarring.”

“Jarring?” Genevieve turned from her mirror. “I’m sorry. I really should have…”

“I think I used the wrong word.”

“Oh.” Genevieve relaxed her shoulders before standing up from her stool, unable to resist the siren’s song that was Aya’s breaths. “Would you mind helping me out of these clothes? I’m so… tired.”

Aya kept her comments about Genevieve’s body to herself as she assisted in removing her outer and underwear. Genevieve took her time selecting a nightgown from her nighttime closet. She hoped the bits of lace only made her more enticing as she crawled onto the bed, unwilling to go wash the makeup off her face until Aya paid more attention to her.

I should have hosted a smaller party. When the twentieth guest arrived, Genevieve realized she had brought too many people upon Aya, who was sure to turn the most heads and garner the most interest from the Singaporean, Malay, Thai, and even Taiwanese guests. The few people who came in from out of town for the occasion should have tipped Genevieve off that she had overwhelmed her poor girlfriend.

I can make it up to her. I promise.

“What did you think of the dinner?” She crawled up behind Aya, wrapping both arms around her and nuzzling her face into the depths of that slight and attractive neck. “My party planner attempted to convince me to serve French food, but I decided to keep it simple. Was Italian the way to go?”

Aya clasped one hand over Genevieve’s. “It was very delicious, yes. I’m not sure I’ve ever had such good linguini in my life.”

“All of the pasta was made either in my kitchen or my chef’s downtown location.”

“You have quite the talented chef.”

“I travel so much that he only shows up when I’m in town, so it’s not like I’m his only client, but… he always makes time for my parties. Maybe I pay him too much.” Genevieve had meant that as a joke, but Aya wasn’t laughing. “I saw you talking to Wendy and her girlfriend a few times. What did you think of them?”

Aya cocked her head to make room for Genevieve completely overwhelming her with body and hair. “That Wendy was very interesting. She never stopped talking. Somehow, everything came back to herself.”

”Isn’t that so!” Genevieve laughed. “That so perfectly describes her. She really drives people up the wall. I don’t know how that girlfriend puts up with her. Did you know Lisa was a mega popstar before she left it all behind for Wendy?”

“Don’t worry. Wendy made sure I knew.”

“Uh-huh.” Genevieve finally got up. Before we fall into bed, I better get this makeup off my face. Brushing her teeth wasn’t a bad idea, either. “I’ll be right back.”

“I miss you already.”

Genevieve was slightly taken aback by that flippant flirtation. Yet, as she looked back at Aya, who pulled herself up to the nearest pillow and looked at her phone, Genevieve felt a wave of something she could only describe as simple euphoria.

Had she ever felt so close to someone so quickly? Sure, she had fallen in love quickly, but love was prickly. One of her favorite poems by the great Singaporean artist Salvador Ahn (no relation to Wendy, although she always lied about it,) likened love to a rose. While that wasn’t original, Genevieve never forgot the stanza that had stricken her when she first read it several years ago.

The lush beauty of love is like

The sweetest red petal

Enticing; Ephemeral

Yet to get to that beauty

To smell its sweet surrender

You must withstand a thousand stings of

Pain Hurt Betrayal

If your body is not bleeding

Then neither is your heart