After the Come-In (Part 3)

(Continued from Part 2)

Luc brought his bike to a stop on the cobblestones outside the hotel. He had come from the college where he’d spent the afternoon in the darkroom processing film and making prints. There was a spring in his step as he walked in.

On the patio, Margot sat reading a letter in the far corner beneath the trailing solandra as she sipped on a cappuccino.

“Can I join you?”

“Oh hello Luc,” Margot said, finishing the letter and slipping it back into its foil strato-courier envelope. “Please do.”

“I have something for you.” He unzipped his backpack and pulled out a well-loved paperback, flipping to the middle where he had stashed a print for safe travel.

“You’re reading Ioana?” Margot interjected with a raised eyebrow. She glanced from the book to the envelope beside her hand and gave it a quizzical nod.

“Oh, Janie lent it to me. Apparently there’s a character I remind her of.” He turned the book to read the cover, as if for the first time. Bridge of Sighs: Stories of Erotic Crossing. “I haven’t started it yet.”

He pulled the print from the middle of the book and held it out. Margot took it from his hand and tried not to show her surprise. It was the photo Luc had taken of her in this very corner of the patio a few weeks prior. She had just left room #3, Impératris, where she’d brought the Brazilian visitor — Mauro? Leandro? — to spectacular orgasm between her breasts. In the photo, the perspiration was still evident on her neck, and a drop from the slender glass bottle of mineral water she held to her lips was running down into her carefully-framed cleavage. The image had a blatant eroticism about it, which the boy’s casual presentation couldn’t hide. She looked back to Luc with the same quizzical expression she had given the envelope a moment before.

“Luc, I think we should talk about what happened.”

He set the paperback down and shifted in his seat.

“I encouraged you at the Come-In, and you seemed to like it.” Margot leaned in and set the photo on Ioana’s book. “And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I got a little carried away when you jiggled them.” His eyes flicked down to his boss’ chest.

“I could tell!” She reached across and squeezed the boy’s arm with a conspiratorial smile. “You shot all over Tati. I was waiting for you to hit your friend.”

Luc smiled.

Margot involuntarily thought back to the two young men masturbating together in Luc’s room. “You two obviously have a thing for, how to say it,” she looked down at her chest with a smirk. “Big hefty jugs.”

Luc froze. It was his turn to look quizzical. This wasn’t the type of language Margot typically used. She could tell he recognized Juro’s colorful phrase.

“Yeah, I mean I can’t argue with you there.”

“I’ll have to encourage you with mine again sometime.”

“I —” he stuttered. “You’d want to?”

Margot straightened and picked up the photo again, smiling to herself. She recalled the feeling of the Brazilian boy’s stiff length against her chest. Lúcio, was it?

“You know, Ioana is planning a visit to Fern River,” Margot said, tapping the foil envelope beside her. “She wrote to ask about doing a reading here at the hotel.”

Asami looked up from her sketchbook at the sound of footsteps climbing the spiral stairway to her office.

“Professor! Hi.” Em stood in the open doorway holding a foil envelope, slightly out of breath but smiling. “Can I come in?”

“Of course honey. Please do.” Asami stood from her chair and set the sketchbook and pencil on the coffee table. It was Monday morning, and she was easing into her work week at the college. She looked Em over as the girl stepped into the small office. She wore a baggy mango crewneck sweatshirt cropped to show a few inches of her soft midriff squeezed into the tight waistband of her high-waisted jeans. The outfit looked good on her.

“Yvette wanted me to bring you this,” Em said, offering Asami the envelope. Reflections of the brightly-decorated office swirled in the foil, lending the object an air of mystery.

Anything delivered by strato-courier had to fit in one of three standard-sized envelopes, subject to strict weight limits. Asami found it all a tad pretentious — the space-age foil, the cumbersome latitude-longitude address system, the names of the autonomous aircraft. Limitless, Transcendent, Instant Messenger. She turned the thick envelope over in her hands and saw that it had already been opened, but sealed again with conservator’s archival tape.

“I didn’t peek. Yvette said you’d know what it was.”

Asami thought back to her recent visit with the curator. Had she mentioned a package? She peeled away the tape and slid a thin stack of photographs out of the envelope. There was a handwritten note on top, which she read aloud.

Dearest artificer,

These just arrived from Maaike. It appears we had a keen observer on the roof. Can you spot yourself?

– Yvette

P.S.: Must speak soon, your recommendation panned out beautifully. Handsome too. Y

She laughed to herself as she slipped the note to the bottom of the pile, revealing the first photograph. Em stood close behind, looking over her shoulder. Asami could feel warmth coming off the girl like a radiator. They hadn’t been so close since the Come-In, and here they were looking down on the event together from the Fria rooftop in black and white.

The photo showed the entirety of the sculpture garden in wide-angle, evidently near the beginning of the event. Figures in various states of undress dotted the grass. Em leaned in close and tapped the matte surface.

“There’s Quinn.”

“With my friends Lena and Margot,” added Asami, recognizing the women’s distinct forms immediately.

“And there you two are, by the statue.”

Asami squinted to make out herself and Nora nude and cross-legged on a blanket. She nodded, and once Em finished studying the image, flipped to the next one.

The mysterious Dutch photographer had changed lenses. The next photo was a long shot of the string quartet playing their instruments nude in a circle.

“Recognize them from campus?” Asami asked, turning to look at Em’s rapt face. The girl nodded without looking away.

The next photo was from much further into the event. Another long shot, this one centered on Maaike & Peter having sex at the top of the curved stone steps. Peter stood behind his partner, grasping her hips. His strong buttocks were clenched at the furthest extent of his thrust. Maaike bent forward to meet Yvette, standing a few steps down, in a passionate kiss. One of Yvette’s hands cupped the artist’s breast, while the other worked between her own thighs. The curator’s stiff nipples peeked from among entwined limbs.

“Gosh, that’s hot,” breathed Em, showing no sign of bashfulness at seeing her boss naked, masturbating, and kissing another woman. Asami nodded, feeling a rush of warmth at the sight of her friend and colleague in such a state of abandon. Em’s obvious interest added another exciting layer.

Asami gasped audibly as she flipped to the next photo. Another long shot, looking toward the River Steps. There in the curve of a lush, crescent-shaped bed of flowers sat Margot, legs spread, hands back on the grass behind. Her unmistakeable breasts slouched either side as she threw her head back, eyes closed. A young woman knelt with her head down between Margot’s thighs, wavy black hair hiding her face, butt high in the air as she touched herself.

“Who is that, I wonder?” Asami felt the rush of warmth intensify. Her gorgeous upstairs neighbor looked like she was about to come.

“It’s Quinn, Nora’s sister.” Em giggled. “She fessed up while we were skinny dipping the other evening.”

Asami adjusted the silk scarf around her neck to cover her nipples poking through the thin fabric of her top.

“Mine are hard too,” Em said, noticing. She reached over and flipped to the last photo in Asami’s hands.

The last photo took both of them by surprise. It was a scene they had each privately recalled many times, but never expected to see from an outside perspective. Beside the glittering white statue of the sleeping nymph, Asami & Em lay at opposite corners of the wool blanket, thighs entwined with their respective partners. In the image, Asami grasped Nora’s hip as she pulled herself against the girl. Her expression was one of pure ecstasy. Em sat upright, bearing down on her girlfriend Janie, her golden braid draped between her flushed breasts. Janie’s eyes were locked on Asami’s face.

“Oh my gosh,” Asami breathed, taking in the details.

“Wasn’t it hot?” Em whispered. Asami could feel the warmth radiating off the girl beside her. Em turned to face her professor. “Maybe next time we can trade partners.”