Rèva and I used to be lovers, yes. She picked me up at a bar when I was only nineteen and would jump at any occasion to have great sex with older women. I was young, in New York and trying to sell my stories to the biggest editors there was. I wrote in the bar below my appartement every night, drinking Screwdrivers with my glasses from another century and my hair all tangled. Rèva was a regular and some night when I was not feeling my best, she saw me crying on a stool then bought me a drink. She wasn't hitting on me at first, she was just trying to give me comfort.
My work wasn't selling, I had troubles making ends meet and even Steve's - the bartender - banter couldn't cheer me up that night. But when I looked in those beautiful grey eyes I stopped crying instantly, trying to pull myself together. She was wonderful : she was fun, sexy, witted and was great at making people talk (no wonder she is a PI). She bought me drinks after drinks, listening to my troubles and that night we went up in my appartement and I had the best sex I would ever have. When I fell asleep in her arms I told myself that she was the kind of woman who I could settle down for.
But in the morning she wasn't there. She had left a note with her number on it and I carried it in my phone case for months (I'm not obsessed, just a girl in love). We went out a couple of times but Rèva as it turned out wasn't a girl who would settle down. She couldn't help her charm and flirted with waitresses when we were at restaurants, that sort of thing. But I was falling for her so hard.
She also helped my career a lot, she read my books and called in a couple of favors and I was officially a writer. And a big one too.
I was indebted to her so I let things slide, after all I was a player too.
One night, after a day of signing autographs and doing a TED Talk, I decided to do something big for her. We went to a fancy restaurant and I got her two gifts. The first one was a ticket to Hollywood where I was supposed to go, and the second a diamond ring that shone like the sun. Instead of the response I longed for - Yes Ambrosia I would go anywhere with you - she told me she liked me and considered me a good friend and a good fuck but we couldn't make a real relationship work. She wasn't ready to abandon her life as a bachelor (and still isn't), and I had my heart broken.
I left the restaurant, tore up her flight ticket and cried for days, not returning her calls or her messages.
I went out to Boston for a weekend and that's when I met my wife.
She was beautiful, sitting on a bench under a tree with pink flower, she had a couple of petals in her hair. I will never forget the day I met her. I sat beside her and I saw the same sad eyes I was seeing when I looked in the mirror. Somehow I knew she was in pain. You think this is perfect ? SHE WAS READING ONE OF MY BOOKS ! Not one of the romantic ones, but a dark and deep thriller that took me over seven months to write (minus the rewriting) and that had gotten me a prize (a small one but a prize is a prize eh ?).
When I sat beside her she slowly took her dark brown marvelous eyes of the book and looked at me up and down, then turned the cover and said
« That's not you, is it ??? »
« That is absolutely me, I answered chuckling. Fernanda is one of my best characters »
« You don't say, they should make this into a movie »
« They almost did... »But then all the sadness I was carrying felt like a boulder on my head. She wasn't wearing a wedding ring. So I asked her to dinner and through the night i saw the best in her. I didn't make the same mistakes I did with Rèva. I didn't sleep with her right away : we went on dates where she was absolutely charming. She came back to New York with me after two weeks and we stayed at a fancy hotel called Le Rocher. In french it means boulder, I found it amusing at the time. We made sweet love we had pancakes delivered to our room we took baths together... all that I wanted to do with Rèva.
One day I got a call from her, begging me to forgive me. She missed our friendship she said. I missed it too. So we went to our bar and we kissed but it didn't feel the same anymore. It felt bitter sweet, it felt like the past. So I told her that I couldn't, that I was in a relationship now. She laughed, bewildered.
« Well look at you now ! A girlfriend ! I'm happy for you even though I will miss seeing you in doggystyle »
« Shut up, I laughed and hit her arm. I think she's the real deal. »
« And how old is the miss ? »
« Thirty one you nosey chick. Her name is Rebecca, but I call her Becks because she hates it. »
« Woaw so you really have a thing han. I hope she takes good care of ya. I guess she won't want me around so hit me up when you break up »But we never did. At least never more then two days apart. And just like that we were married. It was like a fairytale. Then I started to see the darkness in her. The thirst that has gotten us to this point. You think you know a gal...
——————
I was in the shower and Becks bursted in.« Don't think you can just have sex with me and not explain what happened last night. Where the fuck were you Ambrosia ? »
Well, I was in deep shit....
YOU ARE READING
Ambrosia
Mystery / ThrillerA lesbian marriages collapses slowly but Ambrosia cannot fathom that thought and will do anything to prove she is happy. She needs her revenge.