Wanderlust [Lesbian Story]

I

Wanderlust. A severe case, so they say.

It is said that wanderlust means, 'a strong desire to travel', in which one cannot stay in one place. It's like the water in Yangtze River, always moving; always flowing. It's moving from the islands of Hawaii to the sands of Egypt, travelling to different places have been my life.

It's my passion.

My one and only love.

With only my backpack, a beaten-up camera, and my journals, I traveled to and fro; admiring the sights and people of every places. Capture everything through camera and paper. Listening to their stories. I'm no journalist or photographer, mind you. I just have a severe case of wanderlust.

Back home, the sweet and kind Philippines, my family and close friends said I should stop with my meaningless travels. That my constant travel would only lead me nowhere.

They said I should settle down with someone and just... stop. To have an anchor on my never-ending sailing cruise ship.

How can I, Alexandria—Alex for short, will weigh anchor if there are tons of ports I need to go to?

So, I merely laughed, packed up my bag and decided to go on a new destination.

###

"Nobody can drag me down~" I whispered in a singsong voice, writing my latest entry on my journal as I remembered the earlier call from my beloved parents. With a wide grin on my face, I jotted down the highlights of my day—a habit I developed while travelling from place to place.

My recent entry was about a woman who could dance like there's no tomorrow. With eyes burning of passion and body swaying so painstakingly perfect. I was lucky enough to trace my hands on those lithe curves, to see those eyes directed at me, lips curved lazily in pleasure. My body shivers still remembering her sweet whispers, making my lips curve upward and my hands yearning to touch her even more.

I chuckled softly at the thought of this fiery dancer. A local dancer named Maxine; but I call her Minx.

It was all because of my current location that I met Minx. A small town in the country side of Italy—a side trip before my next destination which would be the Bahamas. It should be visiting the main city that is Rome, but instead I chose a scenic route. The small country town to admire the sights and the people. Not to mention an acquaintance of mine, a doctor, owned a medical clinic in this town, giving a roof over my head for the meantime while he was taking a vacation in overseas.

But staying in a clinic, I tend to get sudden visitors from the townsfolk, asking for the doctor. And despite the 'Closed' sign on the door, they still knock—

*knock knock*

Just. Like. That.

With a sigh, I checked the clock that says it was nearing 12am and placed my pen down on the table. It was a bit late already and usually patients visited during the daylight. As the knocking continues, I groaned and decided to check on my late-night visitor.

Opening the door and without looking who the visitor was, I scratched the back of my head and delivered my usual response.

"The doctor is on vacation right now. Kindly go to another clinic," I said without remorse. It wasn't like I could even help them – I'm just a traveler who happens to be staying at the second floor of this clinic.

"Is that right?"

The voice was feminine yet icy like the Canadian winter breeze. It carried an Italian accent yet could speak English clearly.

"Then, let me just use the supplies. I know Ross and he wouldn't mind and I'm kind of in a hurry," the visitor said with an accented commanding tone. Yet, despite the imposing voice, I could hear the late-night visitor heavy breathing. As if catching her breath.

Hearing the name Ross, the doctor who owns the clinic, I checked who the new comer was and why she sounded like he's out of breath. Before my eyes, a woman dressed in a wrinkled black suit, was leaning against the doorframe while holding her left arm close to her body. Her short with undercut black hair was messy as her stormy grey eyes, left eye had a long scar from her brow down to her cheek, looked weary while looking at me curiously. And while she was steadying herself, I noticed how she was drawing heavy breaths as if she was chasing every speck of oxygen she could get.

When I checked why she seemed like she's suffering, my eyes went wide.

A handle was protruding from her left shoulder that seemed to be the cause of her discomfort. The shoulder part of the suit was stained with a darker patch – blood, as she drew heavy breaths and leaning on the doorframe. "Fuck..." I whispered in awe and surprise.

The injured woman grinned weakly after hearing my reaction. "Will you help me first before we go to foreplay?" she said weakly. "As much as I want to please a fine-looking woman as you, I rather want to be treated first."

My brows furrowed from what she said. For someone who probably would die from blood loss, that woman had a lot of time to throw a witty remark. Before my brain could even process panic and call for professional help, she walked passed me and went straight to Ross' office.