Queen of Love

There were hundreds of likes and a few dozen comments already. Although Genevieve didn’t have much time to see them, she caught the words “What happened to you guys is terrible! It shouldn’t mean anything about your character. I will bring my girlfriend to the place after it’s open and tell my friends to support you, too!” before Aya pulled the laptop away again.

“Aya.” Genevieve wiped the sweat off her cheek. She swore it wasn’t a tear. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have listened to my publicity person. I hurt you, didn’t I?”

“I was hurt at first,” Aya admitted, “but I understand you were doing what you thought you had to do. I just disagree with your publicist that I couldn’t be a part of your image rehabbing. See, I know a thing or two about the community around here.” She scrolled past pictures of the new Mango Special drink and the outside of the building, both of which were probably published by the social media manager. “The best way to make people feel comfortable is to show them they have nothing to fear from you. So many people here live in hiding or are so far in the closet that they don’t even know why they got off at the subway stop and are wandering these streets. If you can create a space run by people who know what it’s like to have that kind of shame and humility in their lives… they’ll support you. They’ll feel safe here. You want to create a community, right? Even your club called Paradise is about creating a safe space for people to let the kink fly that would otherwise get them in trouble with people they know in their families, or at work.”

Genevieve got goosebumps, both from the post and from Aya’s heartfelt thoughts. “I should have stayed here, at least one more day. I should have taken you with me to Singapore. I should have told you I…” Genevieve placed her hand over her chest. She was still sweating. Wasn’t the air conditioner on?

“Genny.” After a moment of staring up at her girlfriend, Aya packed up the laptop. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

“What now?” Yet Genevieve didn’t hesitate to follow Aya out of the bar. Once they turned off the lights and locked the door, the slow descent to the pavement was only matched by the thumping in Genevieve’s heart. Everything’s going to be okay, right? Aya didn’t offer her a hand. Nor did they walk side-by-side to the subway station, where Aya bought Genevieve a ticket to Meguro. “Are you taking me back to your place?”

She was met with a wink that said nothing but, “Follow me, Gen.”

Aya asked Genevieve to wait in the living area. With the sun sparkling in the hazy summer sky, Genevieve stood before the windows of Aya’s Meguro apartment, remembering how special it had felt to finally see how her girlfriend lived.

As long as she’s still my girlfriend… Would Genevieve be allowed to apologize enough?

Aya came up behind her and took her hand. “Come with me,”

Any other time before Genevieve’s departure, she would have assumed being led into the bedroom was a good omen. Now, she didn’t know what to expect.

She certainly didn’t expect to see a wooden box on the end of Aya’s bed.

“I think I’ve learned a lot about you over the past few months, Genny.” Although Aya spoke smoothly, her voice was firm enough to awaken curiosity in Genevieve’s already anxious brain. “You’ve shown me a kind of relationship I never thought about before. You made me challenge my preconceptions of what I wanted in my life. Here I am, old enough to be a mother a few times over, and I’m already wondering if everything I ever thought about love was an unknowing lie.”

Genevieve’s sweaty hands were forced to pull apart before she lost her mind. “What’s going on? Don’t you think I’ve rehearsed what I want to say to you my whole way here? Give me a chance to say what I want, Aya. There are so many things I’m regretting already. You need to know how much I lo –”

Aya interrupted her again by popping open the box. Inside was a necklace on a bed of black velvet.

No, Genevieve was mistaken. That wasn’t a necklace. It’s a collar.

As she clasped her hand over her mouth, Aya removed the simple choker around Genevieve’s throat. For so long, she had adorned herself with whatever choker or collar went with her outfit. Unless she was in Paradise, it was always something unostentatious. Leather bands, velvet strings, and metal chains glistened against her skin. The one Aya had picked out for her, though, was somehow versatile while speaking in a very specific style.

“I thought about picking out three for you to choose from. I mean, it took me a long time of shopping around to find one that suited your finesse and didn’t scream a lack of taste from me.” A thin black cord lifted into the air. In the center was a petite golden hoop that would allow for multiple functions, depending on what kind of low-key evening or wild-at-heart night they shared together. At first, Genevieve assumed the black material was leather – but as it touched her collarbone, she realized it was softer and cooler for the humid weather that plagued her wherever she spent her time. “But I thought you wouldn’t want that. You want a woman who knows you so well she picks your collar out for you.”

The clasp hooked behind Genevieve’s neck. As her hair was allowed back into place, Aya wrapped her arms around Genevieve from behind and held her for the first time since they were reunited.

“Maybe I’m not the best at what you want, Genny,” Aya said directly into her girlfriend’s ear, “but I want to try. Nobody’s ever made me feel as alive as you do. It’s like waking up from a long sleep.”

Funny. Genevieve was headed toward sleep herself. If I close my eyes and sway to the beat of her heart, I’ll be whisked away to Heaven. A place where she could sleep for the rest of eternity. Right here, in Aya’s strong and protective arms.

They turned toward the window. Aya’s view wasn’t as fantastic as Genevieve’s Shibuya penthouse, but she still enjoyed the peaceful look into how one neighborhood spent their lazy Sunday afternoon in a city that never slept.

“I love you, Genny,” Aya said, her arms tightening around Genevieve. “That should be all that matters in the end. Anything else, and we can face it together. Don’t you believe me?”

Genevieve gripped the arms around her. Her fingers were weak, but the feelings rushing through her body and triggering the tears behind her eyes were strong. She thought letting a few drip down her face would be enough to keep the dam from breaking, but it didn’t matter. Ten seconds later, Genevieve was bawling like the girl who had heard the terrible news about her parents’ accident.

Yet, it wasn’t a mournful tirade that was stricken with fervent grief. She was a woman who was finally allowed to lower her guard and face the fears that stared her in the face.

“It’s okay.” That’s what she thought she heard Aya say, but in her terrible madness, Genevieve had automatically translated the Japanese word falling from Aya’s lips as she nuzzled her nose against her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Daijyoubu.′

“I’m so sorry,” Genevieve sobbed. She hoped to God it was in English, but she was in such a state that she wouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t even speaking a language that existed on Earth. “I don’t know why I ran off like that. I’m so… so….”

Aya hugged her so tightly the air was almost cut from Genevieve’s chest. I’m fine with that. She would be more than happy to die in Aya’s embrace if it wouldn’t mean more pain for the woman who had already gone out of her way for her. I don’t deserve her. Not Genevieve, the woman who had screwed up more than one relationship in her life. I either take things too quickly, or I let them down. Like she had let Aya down.

“I don’t want to lose you, too.” There. Genevieve had finally said what had haunted her since she started falling for Aya all those weeks ago. I fall for everyone who gives me attention for more than ten minutes. She knew this about herself. Wasn’t that why she had trained herself to curl into a protective ball whenever she was about to vomit her feelings all over her woman of the moment? “I’m so sorry, Aya.”

“Why are you sorry? You did what you thought you had to do. I’m a grown woman. Even if I don’t like it, I can understand.”