Page 36

The following Tuesday, the last day of Sullivan’s “weekend,” she woke to a dream about Kia.

In Sullivan’s dream she and Kia spun in the red and purple basket of a carnival ride.

Kia swirled around Sullivan’s body like a cloud, touching every part of her, turning her on in a way that made every cell in her body sing.

And Sullivan was so close to orgasm. The ride spun faster.

Kia whispered, Come for me . Her words lit up the sky like calligraphic fireworks.

And Sullivan woke up.

Like she always did when she had a sex dream, her body was aroused and yet… not. Like she had a dream body that was vibrating on the excruciating edge of release while her real-world body was inert. Her real body had been asleep while her dream body lifted to the height of pleasure.

Her subconscious hated her.

Sullivan sighed, got up, and pulled on sweatpants and a sports bra. She rubbed her eyes as she descended the stairs. She needed coffee, then a cold shower.

But Kia—who was supposed to be gone by six a.m., in her food truck or touring around the city looking gorge in her turquoise sunglasses—stood at the counter with a cutting board and ingredients before her. The kitchen smelled of fresh bread and coffee.

“I like your bra,” Kia said.

“Shit. Sorry. I’ll put on a shirt.”

“Not fair.” Kia’s eyes drifted down Sullivan’s body. “You’ve seen me naked.”

“Not on purpose. Not that I minded.”

Kia turned away, but Sullivan could see she looked pleased.

“You said you didn’t have anything to do today, right?” Kia said. “I want to take you on a date.”

Kia poured Sullivan a cup of coffee.

“Are we lagging in the algorithm?”

“No. I just want to show you something special. There’s a new exhibit at the Portland Art Museum, and we can picnic inside.”

“I don’t think they let you picnic in the museum.”

“They’ll let me.” Kia gave her a sweet, self-deprecating smile.

An hour later, raincoats dripping, Kia and Sullivan arrived at the side door to the museum. A man with a museum name tag ushered them inside.

“The exhibit isn’t open yet, so you’ll have it all to yourself.” He led them up a concrete staircase and pushed open a door at the top. The door led into a high-ceilinged gallery with white walls and gleaming blond wood floors. And the biggest Janice Domingo nudes Sullivan had ever seen.

“I saw on the website that they were having a Divine Nude Muse exhibit. I thought you’d like to see it.”

Sullivan was mesmerized. Her paintings were tiny by comparison; these nudes towered over them. Not all of them had been hung. Some rested against the wall. Others were still wrapped in protective cloth.

“Obviously don’t touch anything,” the man said and disappeared down the staircase.

“How did you…?” Sullivan looked at Kia, who’d set her picnic basket on a bench in the center of the space.

“I asked.”

“You can’t just ask to picnic in a museum exhibit that isn’t even open yet.”

“I can.” Kia took off her turquoise sunglasses and tucked them in the picnic basket.

“You want to look around?” Kia asked.

Sullivan absolutely wanted to look around at the nudes. The paintings that had already been hung had been placed so that the women’s vulvae were at eye level. The nearest one showed the woman’s vulva peeking out beyond her pubic hair.

“I didn’t know they’d be quite so… close,” Kia said.

Her light brown skin did not hide her blush.

The next painting was even more explicit. Kia tried to hurry past it.

“Don’t you want to admire the composition?” Sullivan teased. “You’re blushing.”

“Of course I’m blushing.” Kia motioned to the painting’s vulva without looking at it.

“Why of course ?” Sullivan paused to admire the painting.

Kia didn’t answer. When Sullivan looked at her, she was fidgeting with the edge of her Kia Gourmazing T-shirt.

“I can’t believe you’re not blushing.”

“Look at the brushwork here.” Sullivan pointed to a curl of pubic hair at the juncture of the woman’s legs. “Do you think that’s oil or acrylic?”

Kia laughed. “Read the plaque, Sullivan. I don’t look at the bushwork and think, Is it acrylic? ”

“ Bush work.” Sullivan caught Kia’s slip.

“Brushwork. I said brushwork .”

They proceeded around the perimeter of the hall admiring the paintings and giggling a little at how very, very large they were. The last one featured a woman sitting naked, legs spread.

“Now she’s just showing off.” Kia rolled her eyes. “Let’s eat a sandwich. These are inspired by Ms. Domingo herself.”

Kia spread a waxed tablecloth over one of the benches set in the center of the gallery.

She set the picnic basket at one end and opened the parchment wrappers to reveal juicy grilled chicken with pickled red onions and creamy avocado, all nestled between slices of crusty ciabatta bread.

The meat was topped with a vibrant slaw of shredded cabbage, oregano, pepper, vinegar, carrots, and cilantro.

They sat, side by side, at the other end of the bench, their shoulders almost touching, sandwiches—on reusable Corelle dishes—balanced on their laps.

“I don’t need to tell you this is the best sandwich,” Sullivan said, covering her mouth as she spoke. “You already know.”

“I still like to hear it.”

“This is the best sandwich ever.”

“Thank you.” Kia bumped Sullivan’s shoulder.

After they had chewed in silence for a few minutes, Kia took a deep breath. “Can I ask you something personal?”

“How I clean my sous vide machine?”

“No, and not what you paid for your stand mixer.”

“What could be more personal than that?”

“You absolutely do not have to answer this—” Kia sucked in her lower lip. “But was Aubrey a good lover?”

“Wow. You’re not interested in my stand mixer.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay. It’s just us. The Domingos aren’t listening.”

The gallery full of nudes felt like a place out of time. If they stayed here, there was no lawsuit. Kia wasn’t leaving. They weren’t even online. Kia hadn’t taken out her phone once. It felt safe. It felt like they’d been here forever.

“At first. I love being in my body. Cooking. Eating. Hiking. Sex.” Sullivan realized she’d leaned into Kia ask she spoke.

The length of their thighs touched. Kia had not pulled away, so neither did Sullivan.

“I’d try most things twice with the right person.

I have tried most things with the right people.

Aubrey was on that page at first, but the more she did her social media, the more she acted like I wanted sex too much.

I never pressured her, obviously, but she spent so much time on her phone.

I did suggest that having sex was more fun than watching climbing goat videos. ”

“I would much rather have sex with you than watch goat videos.” Kia covered her face with her hand and shook her head as if to say, I just said that, didn’t I? But when she looked up, she was smiling.

“High praise. I’ll take it,” Sullivan said.

They both laughed.

“Nothing kills an orgasm like thinking maybe she’d rather be watching climbing goat videos,” Sullivan said. “I think she lost interest in sex because she couldn’t put it online. So what was the point of spending all that time in bed when it didn’t produce any content.”

“How could anyone want to film content more than have sex with you?”

“I know, right?” Sullivan pulled her shoulders back in a cocky pose, then let them drop. “I started to feel like she wasn’t attracted to me at all even though she swore she was.”

“Well, you’re hot as fuck. If you needed someone to tell you, I’m telling you.”

Kia was still blushing, but she looked Sullivan directly in the eye, and her gaze felt like a punctuation mark that meant what I just said is unequivocally true .

It made Sullivan glow with pride. Kia’s statement felt like a soothing balm to the one-sided love of her past. A wave of attraction and desire washed over Sullivan as she held Kia’s eyes.

“You don’t have to answer,” Sullivan said, “but why do you want to know if Aubrey was a good lover?”

“This is the dumb part,” Kia said. “I’m pretty sure I’m not.

I kind of missed the part—in your teens and early twenties—when you get good at sex.

I was living on a yacht with my dad and a thousand spaniels, and then I was with Gretchen.

I should have learned something. We dated for four years.

But we never lived in the same city. When we saw each other every two or three months, I wanted to have sex.

She wanted to talk marketing strategy. When we broke up and she became just my manager, I could barely tell the difference. ”

“And you’re a romantic.”

“Exactly. Sometimes I think I could ditch the romantic thing and hook up with someone, but I’m afraid she’d be disappointed. I’ve built my career on too-much-of-a-good-thing-is-fabulous, but my sex life is stale saltine crackers.”

“You couldn’t be a disappointment, and nothing about you is like stale saltine crackers.”

“You’ve never slept with me.”

The intensity of the moment was palpable, and the silence hung between them for so long Sullivan could have counted the motes of dust shimmering in the air if she could have torn her gaze away from Kia’s beautiful, serious face. Sullivan considered just how much more complicated her life could get.

“Kia?”

Sullivan thought she saw a shy smile at the corner of Kia’s lips. God, she’d love to feel Kia’s thigh between her legs, grinding against her. And it would feel even better to make Kia feel good, feel confident, feel like the goddess she was.

“Yes?” Kia’s smile spread into eagerness. She reached for Sullivan’s hand and lightly stroked each one of Sullivan’s fingers.

It wouldn’t matter if Kia had no experience. Sullivan would love to guide her. Would love to explore Kia’s body, touching all the places Gretchen had neglected. Sullivan looked into Kia’s eyes.

“I showed you how to cuddle on a sofa, and you were a natural. Would it be wrong to make this all more complicated?” Sullivan hadn’t noticed when they both set down their sandwiches and wiped their hands, but they had.

Against her best judgment, Sullivan traced her fingertips down Kia’s thigh, watching Kia’s face for any expression that said Kia didn’t want to be touched.

“We’re consenting adults and we’re married. ”

Kia’s grin was sunlight on a brand-new convertible cruising down Highway 101.

She rested her head on Sullivan’s shoulder, then turned and planted an awkward kiss on Sullivan’s neck.

And Sullivan knew how much fun they would have learning each other’s bodies.

Sullivan began to speak, but her phone went off with Miriam Makeba’s “Pata Pata” playing at full volume.

“Miss Brenda.” She shook her head and silenced the phone. “She gets a special ringtone.”

Of course the outside world would interrupt just as she was waiting for Kia’s official answer to her barely spoken question.

“Do I get a special ringtone?” Kia asked, grinning.

“What’s your special song?”

Sullivan’s phone buzzed again. Sullivan pulled it out again to silence the vibrations. Why were there so many ways for your phone to take you away from the moment?

She caught the first lines of a text from Brenda.

Brenda: HELP Roof is flooding