The Fly

A Wine Night

    A week later, Talia stood outside Miriam's loft. Talia had planned a date night where they'd go to a Wine & Paint night. It was a step-by-step process, where each person would replicate some brightly colored splattering of some art piece. She chose this event since she knew whatever the women painted would look similar to the art in Miriam's loft. She hadn't been invited up yet, but Talia felt the night might be to her favor.
    Talia wore a spring dress. It was cut low in the front to show off cleavage. She was intent on getting the invitation to go up at the end of the night. As she waited, the door to Miriam's building finally opened. Miriam stepped out, looking magnificent. Her chestnut hair was in a pile on top of her head, pinned delicately. She had her own dress on, Boho-looking. Talia's eyes were glued to her. She wanted not to zip, but to rip that dress off.
    "Beautiful," Talia gestured approvingly.
    "Thank you, you're stunning as well." Miriam looked towards the street. A red Mini Cooper sat idling. "Your car?"
    "Yes, are you surprised?"
    "A little, you being an accountant and all, but you've never acted uptight."
    "What are all accountants stick-up-the-ass uptight?" Talia laughed.
    "Hm..." She smirked. "Not sure. Accountants were never my type."
    "They are now," Talia said confidently.
    As Miriam went to the car, a voice called. "What are you and your friend up to?" Talia knew that accent. She looked up.     The abuelita from a few months ago. Different clothes, but wore the same apron. She wore it proudly. This woman was a     loose end. Talia hated loose ends.
    "Josefina," Miriam said. "This is my girlfriend. Josefina, Talia. Talia, Josefina. Josefina makes the best chilaquiles."     Talia's brows went up. Did Miriam say girlfriend?
    "The writer, yes." Josefina's response drew Talia away from her internal dance. Miriam looked confused.
    Before anyone else spoke. Talia called, "Accountant."
    Josefina paused, "If you say so." She looked at Talia.
    "Miriam and I better leave. We have a painting class to attend."
    Josefina turned towards Miriam. "Yes, you must not be late."
    Miriam smiled warmly. "And yourself."
    "Come visit. It's been too long."
    "I will."
    Talia ushered Miriam into the car. She went around to her side, watching Josefina. The woman met her gaze. Talia smiled towards her, but it didn't quite meet her eyes.

    At Wine & Paint Night, Talia discretely filled Miriam's glass whenever it was empty. She had the false hope that a drunk Miriam wouldn't remember seeing Josefina. The likelihood of that happening was slim. Miriam had been sober. If Talia couldn't get her to forgot, she needed her to pass out later. To Talia's disappointment, Miriam sipped slowly. She only drank three glasses, but it was spread out over two hours. She could blow above the legal limit, but that would do nothing.
    When they reached Miriam's loft, both women walked to the entrance. Miriam still hadn't invited Talia up. She would need to convince her somehow. Talia moved towards Miriam, wrapping an arm around her. She cupped her cheek, putting her lips to Miriam's mouth. She kissed lightly, then slowly deepened the kiss. Talia pulled away slightly, but kept her lips a mere inch from Miriam's. Talia gauged the reaction. Miriam showed a little disappointment. Perfect.
    "Sorry, your lips were driving me mad."
    "Miriam didn't hesitate, "Come up." Not a question.

    Talia stood in Miriam's kitchen near the sink. She had a pink apron over her dress, a few specks of blood on it. She grabbed a glass from the nearby cabinet, pouring herself water. Cold water was always refreshing after a bloody encounter. Talia thought of Josefina. She had been weary with sleep when she opened the door. Before Josefina knew what was happening, Talia had clubbed her head with a tire iron.
    A few minutes later, Talia went into Miriam's bedroom. Miriam was fast asleep on her bed, naked. Talia stared at the body, drilling holes into it. She pushed her hand underneath the apron, touching and rubbing her fingers on her clit. A pressure started to build.
    A gruff, little bark sounded. Miriam's husky, Orla, was fast asleep on the floor. Her entire body hung off her purplish bed, only her head was placed on it. Her legs twitched. Probably dreaming of some tasty squirrel.
     The noise had broken Talia's concentration. She pulled her hand slowly out of her panties, out from under the apron. The last thing Talia needed was for Miriam to wake up to see her with a bloody apron on. She removed it, placing it inside her propped purse on the floor. Talia knew she shouldn't keep the apron, but it felt symbolic—it symbolized the lengths she would go.