Getting Lost Page 18

“My point exactly.”

  “But surely I can help?”

  “Surely nothing.” The waiter returned, and Phoebe discretely placed fifty euros in his hand.

  “Look, Phoebe.” Stella was serious as they settled back into the limousine. “There must be something I can do.” She couldn’t believe what she was about to suggest. “An extra pair of eyes and ears has to be useful?”

  Phoebe put her finger to her lips. “This discussion is over, Stella.”

  “Says who?” Stella couldn’t help but allow her petulant child tone to creep into her words. “I’m not in the least bit happy about not knowing the details.”

  “Do you always get what you want?” Phoebe grinned.

  “Mostly, yes.”

  “Then allow me to open your mind.” Phoebe leaned seductively close. “We have an hour confined to the back of this car. Completely alone. Do you want to spend the entire journey moaning to me about this?”

  Stella pouted but grinned. “I’m sure I could attempt to redirect my focus elsewhere.”

  “Good girl.” Phoebe produced a bottle of tequila, salt, and lime wedges.

  The arousal Stella had so desperately kept at bay broke through the barrier. “I’m very selective as to where I place my salt.”

  “Really?”

  Stella nodded.

  Before anything was poured, Phoebe pulled Stella close as her hand crept up her body, over her breast and around her neck. “You seem to be my undoing, Stella-Tour-Manager.”

  “You’re only human, after all.” Stella’s breathing shortened as their mouths found each other. The kiss was burning, and the throbbing in her trousers required urgent attention. With her tongue feverishly exploring Phoebe’s mouth, and Phoebe opening generously to allow it, she recalled with sadness what transpired in Rome. A flash of disappointment passed through her. Any time now, the kiss would end, she would be turned away, and although she knew her lust would be satisfied in one way or another, it wouldn’t be enough. Facedown in the back of a car was not what she wanted. Mutual touching, making love, that was what she craved. Stella pulled away, moving to place an uncomfortable distance between them.

  “What’s wrong?” Phoebe asked, breathless.

  “Nothing. How about we wait a while?” Stella unscrewed the tequila, in desperate need of a shot to dull her senses.

  “Stella?” Phoebe was hurt, her tone defeated. “Please tell me what just happened? Do you trust me?”

  Stella turned to Phoebe. “I trust you, I really do, I just—”

  “Shit.” Phoebe finally understood. “Fucking Rome.”

  “Rome was fine. Great, in fact. Let’s just not go there again right now.” Stella quickly poured two shots.

  Phoebe rested her head in her hands. “It was far from fine, and it certainly wasn’t great. I shouldn’t have done that to you. Not like I did, anyway.” She took the shot Stella offered and drank it down, holding her glass out for a refill before downing that, too. “Now’s the time to fix what I did to you in Rome, Stella.”

  “There’s nothing to fix. Honestly. We made progress on the ferry. Maybe we should leave it at that for the moment.” Stella attempted to make light of the situation. “You made me come. Jesus, what more could a girl want?”

  But Phoebe was shattered. “What more? Anything more, I should imagine. If it was so good, Stella, why are you afraid of a repeat performance?”

  Phoebe closed the distance between them. “I’m sorry. Don’t answer that. I know why.”

  Stella cupped Phoebe’s face, forcing her to listen. “I don’t want you to just fuck me, okay? If you don’t want to call it making love, then that’s fine. We can fuck each other. But I want to do whatever we call it, together. I want you to want me just as much as I want you. You don’t need to fix what happened in Rome, just—”

  “But I want you to fix me.” Phoebe moved to kneel between Stella’s legs, staring into her eyes. “I love that you want me. The mere thought of you touching me is driving me insane.” Phoebe seductively rose and buried her head in the crook of Stella’s neck. “I want you. I promise. I want you.”

  Slowly, before Stella could either accept or decline, and in a manoeuvre that caught her off guard, Phoebe’s hand began massaging between Stella’s legs as she kissed and nibbled her ear. Stella completely forgot Rome and was back to square one—totally aroused.

  It was useless. She couldn’t fight this now, even if she wanted to. Regaining some composure she reversed the situation by forcing Phoebe back against the seat. If Phoebe was truly ready, she would allow Stella to be inside her. “This stops anytime you want, okay?” Stella reassured her.

  Phoebe nodded. “Right now, though, I think I’ll kill you if you stop.”

  “Really?”

  “No. Bad choice of words. But I want you. Please, believe me?”

  Stella lifted the black dress over Phoebe’s head to reveal a gorgeous body without underwear. “Jesus,” Stella muttered under her breath as she commenced the slow and sensual seduction of Phoebe Lancaster.

  Phoebe’s breasts were delicious. Her dusky pink nipples hardened at the slightest touch, and as Stella took one, then the other, in her mouth, Phoebe’s back arched, and she moaned. Again, their mouths met. This time it was Phoebe who plunged her tongue deep into Stella, her hands clawing to find the buttons of Stella’s shirt. She struggled to even unclasp one and yanked the shirt impatiently, sending buttons flying everywhere.

  “I’ll have them fixed, I promise,” Phoebe mumbled as she unclasped Stella’s bra and roughly groped her breasts, moaning in approval. “Lose the pants.”

  Stella obeyed and quickly removed all her clothing.

  She knelt between Phoebe’s legs and caught her breath. Before her, naked and beautiful, was a woman ready to be taken. Stella pulled Phoebe toward her until her backside rested on the edge of the leather seat. Without breaking eye contact, she reached for the bottle of tequila and poured two shots, handing one to Phoebe. Stella held a slice of lime, and she licked her wrist before sprinkling salt all over it. On Phoebe’s inner thigh, high up her leg, she also licked and sprinkled salt.

  “You lick my wrist and suck the lime in my hand on the count of three, okay?”

  Phoebe nodded. “But where’s your lime?”

  “Trust me, I don’t need lime.” Stella winked. “One, two, three.”

  The tequila disappeared, and Phoebe grasped Stella’s wrist, licking the salt at precisely the same moment Stella’s tongue glided up her thigh. As Phoebe bit into the lime and sucked the bitter juice, she let out a gasp. Stella was sucking something else altogether.

  *

  Entangled in each other’s arms, both finally satisfied, Stella’s fingers remained inside Phoebe. She wasn’t willing to give up such an intimate connection yet. The experience had been tender and beautiful. After initially taking Phoebe with her tongue and then gently penetrating her with two fingers, Stella watched her take that last leap of faith and let herself go, let herself orgasm at the hands of someone other than her beloved Rebecca. Stella made love to Phoebe patiently and encouragingly. The only permission required was the permission Phoebe granted herself.

  Passion that had remained dormant for so many years erupted in Phoebe. Now free from years of self-imposed celibacy, she allowed Stella to continue, tenderly and lovingly. Stella observed Phoebe struggle with the realisation that Rebecca was no longer her last lover. Stella had slowed, allowing Phoebe time to process her emotions, before whispering in Phoebe’s ear that she wanted to make her feel safe, that she adored her, and that above all, she wanted to make her feel wanted and amazing. With a little help from her fingers lightly pulsating on Phoebe’s G-spot, she required only gentle persuasion. In little time, Phoebe needed to come, just as much as Stella needed to take her there.

  Stella was grateful to have been allowed to make love to Phoebe, not that either of them had uttered those words, and although she was aroused in a way she couldn’t recall experiencing with past lov
ers, she understood Phoebe might not yet be ready to reciprocate. She was wrong.

  With silent tears trickling down her face, but clearly experiencing a sense of joy, Phoebe had asked Stella to lie down and allow her to explore every inch of her body. As her fingers slid effortlessly through the slick moisture between Stella’s legs, the astonishment on her face caused Stella to laugh. Phoebe appeared amazed to have been the catalyst of such arousal. Stella had reassured her with a smile that she fancied the pants off her. Phoebe held her breath as she nestled her fingers in Stella’s opening before finding the courage to push them deep inside. Stella had cried out in relief, and after the initial shock of penetrating someone other than Rebecca, Phoebe focused all her attention on bringing Stella to orgasm. It took less than thirty seconds, and it caused them both to smile. When Stella had adequately recovered, she touched Phoebe again and suggested they try it together. Simultaneously bringing each other to orgasm was the icing on the cake.

  Content in her arms, Stella sensed Phoebe crying. “Are you okay, baby?”

  “I’m fine.” Phoebe sniffed loudly and Stella frowned. “I’m fine, really. I feel free. I was terrified that making love to another woman would erase everything about Rebecca. But it hasn’t. I’m so relieved to know that nothing I do,” she glanced down to where Stella’s hand disappeared between her legs, “or you do, can ever change the way I feel about her. Coming over here and scattering her ashes was all about letting her go. But it hasn’t been her I’ve needed to let go of. It’s me. I needed to let go.”

  “Well, you did that all right.”

  “Shut it, you.” Phoebe peeked out the window. Vienna was materialising in the distance. “So…better than Rome?”

  “Hey, I liked Rome.”

  “Liar. I know even the fumbling on the ferry was better than Rome.”

  Stella kissed her forehead. “I liked looking into your eyes when I came.”

  “You have a selective memory, Stella. If you remember correctly, I wouldn’t allow you to come until you opened your eyes.”

  Stella shrugged. That’s right, and it was as sexy as hell. “You sure are good with your hands.” Stella slipped out from Phoebe’s warmth to straddle her, grinning. “Those long, probing fingers you drive so deeply into me are certainly worth the wait.”

  “You mean these ones?” Phoebe entered her again.

  “Uh-huh. That would be them.” Stella bit her bottom lip, longing to draw out the sensation by holding back her orgasm. She rode Phoebe’s hand until the edge neared.

  Phoebe reached up to encircle Stella with her free arm. Stella held on for dear life, forcing Phoebe’s head and welcoming mouth to her aching nipples. “Come for me, baby,” Phoebe demanded.

  “Deeper…God, please…”

  Phoebe forced her fingers deeper, firmly massaging Stella’s G-spot.

  Stella cried at her release, her entire body convulsing as the orgasm, yet again, left her world spinning.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Even the calming chimes of Stella’s phone alarm sent her head spinning. She hadn’t arrived late to a meeting with her group ever, and she wasn’t about to start. But she didn’t remember ever feeling so utterly spent. She and Phoebe had finished the bottle of tequila in their room and continued to make love all night. They had slept intermittently, but nothing substantial. Stella felt old.

  Showered, but barely progressing any further, she sat staring, head in her hands, at the instant coffee and dissolving bubbling energy tablet before her.

  “You’re keen.” Phoebe emerged from the bedroom naked and pale.

  “We have to meet in the foyer in fifteen minutes. Get a wriggle on.” Stella could only produce a raised eyebrow in response to Phoebe’s nakedness. She cursed her throbbing temples.

  “We? I don’t think so, honey. Room service and bed is in store for me.”

  “You’re going back to bed?”

  “Yep. Once I order some real coffee.”

  “Give me strength.” Stella sipped her coffee and winced at the bitter, strong liquid.

  It was mid-afternoon before she began to feel human again. She wasn’t alone. With the exception of a handful that went home early complaining of an upset stomach, almost everyone who had been drinking the previous night was feeling sluggish and a little under the weather.

  As a treat, Stella ordered pizza. A cure for those feeling seedy while wasting the afternoon on the banks of the Danube, lazing on the lawn, watching the world pass by. She raised her face to the warm sun and lay outstretched amongst some of the more amiable members of her group. Stella could almost feel the greasy pizza soaking up the alcohol sitting stagnant in her stomach. Thankfully, she had nothing else planned for her crew, and regardless, everyone seemed intent on resting up for an evening organised by Russo.

  Always a little left field, Russo knew of this quirky underground bowling alley that served cheap schnapps and great burgers. It only housed six lanes, each one glowing under ultraviolet light while classic eighties rock pumped through the sound system. It was a surprising treat and it was Russo’s baby, so Stella entrusted the organising to him. She relished the one evening on tour where she could direct all questions his way.

  There was no way Stella and Phoebe would touch more than one or two drinks; they were still feeling a little ill from the previous night, but almost everyone else seemed determined to try every flavour of schnapps on the list.

  The stamina of some people.

  “Can’t we use our time a little more effectively?” Phoebe was looking bored.

  “I have to be here. I’m sorry.”

  “I hate this music.”

  Stella raised her eyebrows. “You can’t possibly. It’s the eighties. Everybody loves the eighties.”

  “Okay that’s true, but I hate it when I could be doing other things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you.”

  Stella knew Phoebe had come along because it was the only way of spending time with her. Unfortunately, Stella couldn’t dedicate her attention entirely to Phoebe, and they were sitting at a small retro table that was growing in numbers. “Fancy some crisps?” Stella addressed the group surrounding her.

  Predictably, the response was unanimously in favour of more food. At the bar she waited to be served and chatted with Megan and some others. Every now and then she snuck a peek at Phoebe, pleased she was playing her part and participating in the conversation at the table. Phoebe was adorable when she was sulking, but Stella knew she wouldn’t be moody in front of the group. Stella trusted her to uphold their “just friends” charade. In fact, Stella trusted her more than she cared to admit. Phoebe was embedding herself within Stella’s psyche, and it was beginning to feel like she’d been there forever.

  The moment Stella slid off the stool and her feet hit the ground, the entire place was plunged into darkness. No windows, no lights and even the exit signs were out. This wasn’t the type of darkness you stumble through to make it to the toilet in the middle of the night. No, this was oppressive, suffocating darkness. Stella immediately thought of Phoebe. Then she thought of Simon. But before she could melt into full panic mode, girlish screams and grunts of “What the fuck” filled the room.

  It was amazing how, in a matter of seconds, chaos could completely reign. Stella had seen people use night vision on the television before. She knew if someone was there, someone who shouldn’t be there, like Simon Threadbody, they would see the bedlam as clear as day. And they could also see Phoebe as clear as day.

  Stella grappled for her phone with no plan other than to find Phoebe. She wasn’t the only one thinking quickly. Some other members of her group, the ones who were happy to carry a phone and pay exorbitant international call rates, also switched on their phones. Dots of light danced in the vast room.

  “Phoebe!” Stella didn’t care that she was singling out one person in fifty. Although she knew she was probably disorientated, she began to run in the direction she guessed Phoebe may be. Afte
r only five steps, her phone light flicked off and she collided with something small, perhaps a stool. Unable to right herself, she tumbled down. Her body was still tender from the beating in Corfu, and landing with a thud and a face full of stale alcohol soaked carpet, Stella flinched at the pain and the hopelessness of the situation.

  The sting of her ribs sent her arm up to hold them protectively while in her other hand, Stella fumbled with the phone again. “Phoebe, where are you?” Why wasn’t she answering? “Phoebe!”

  Stella was escalating from frightened and concerned to terrified and anxiously worried. The darkness and its claustrophobic oppressiveness frustrated her. Just when she was about to scream again, a familiar hand groped in the dark behind her.

  “Is that you, Stella?” Phoebe patted her down like she was playing a hands on game of blind man’s bluff.

  “Why didn’t you answer me?” Stella felt like vomiting from sheer relief.

  “I called for you, but so did half the group.” Phoebe pulled Stella down onto the carpet and used Stella’s phone to illuminate a path to the bar. They scrambled behind it.

  Stella had to admit she could barely hear herself think.

  “This can’t be a coincidence, surely,” said Phoebe.

  “I have no idea how to get out of here. I feel like a sitting duck.”

  “Whatever happens, Stella, don’t let go of my hand, okay?”

  Stella nodded then realised Phoebe couldn’t see her. “I won’t. Trust me. I’m shitting myself right now.”

  Phoebe grabbed a near empty schnapps bottle off the shelf and, holding the neck, smashed the base of the bottle on the edge of the bar, leaving her holding a jagged edge. “Stay close behind me.” She held what remained of the bottle pointing downward in front of her and took Stella’s trembling hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

  The very moment Stella rose to her feet, determined just to get out of the damn place, the lights flickered back to life. Other than a few scattered stools and upturned tables, not to mention Phoebe standing with a glass bottle weapon, nothing looked out of place. A member of the bowling alley staff came bursting through the door.