Taryn grinned, seeming to read her mind. "Relax. Come sit over here and put your arms around me."

Rosalind did and heard Taryn sigh.

"Better?" Taryn asked, and Rosalind nodded.

"Much better."

"This feels good. I didn't know," Taryn said, to the room or to herself.

Rosalind settled in against her shoulder, unable to believe that she was sitting on her couch with Taryn. She seemed perfectly relaxed and not at all distant. The newness of it made Rosalind want to hold her breath, to preserve the moment, but her mind would not let her rest.

"Did you know that I stopped by your house Sunday?" Rosalind asked, biting her lip.

"Nah. When?" Taryn started lazily stroking her back, nearly derailing Rosalind's train of thought. She made a valiant effort to focus and seek out the information that would destroy her or loosen the knots in her stomach.

"Early. I wanted to drop your clothing off. Didn't Rhea mention it?" Rosalind asked, hoping that Taryn wouldn't notice how her voice slanted upward on Rhea's name.

"No. I was in bed all morning with a hangover. She let me sleep," Taryn said. Her hand had included Rosalind's arm in the stroking and was moving closer to her breast.

There was a moment when she could have changed her mind and not asked the question, but Rosalind let that moment pa.s.s. She had to know.

"That all you were in bed with?" she asked, trying to make a joke of it.

Taryn turned her head and looked down at her, puzzled. "Of course not."

Rosalind's stomach knotted. She pushed away from Taryn's shoulder and sat up. She couldn't ask the next question. It would brand her as possessive, a mortal sin in Taryn's world. She recalled how Taryn had spoken of Colleen with distaste when she had gotten proprietary. If Rosalind let Taryn know how possessive she already felt, it would be the death knell for whatever they had between them.

Taryn noticed the immediate change in Rosalind and sat up as well. "Didn't Rhea tell you?"

"She intimated that someone was upstairs with you, yes," Rosalind said, through clenching jaw muscles. The immediate, red streak of jealousy that blinded her was a complete surprise. She'd never been a jealous person in her life.

"Egyptia was too drunk to go home, so she crashed with me."

Rosalind managed not to repeat the drag queen's name in amazement. Rhea had left that part out. Somehow Rosalind couldn't see the omission as a simple mistake.

"I didn't want to wake you, so I left the clothes with Rhea," Rosalind said, feeling absurd. She settled back against Taryn's shoulder, hoping that the stroking would begin where it left off. Taryn seemed to be thinking about something. Her hands were still.

"Rosalind? Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, honey." The endearment slipped out before she could stop it, but Rosalind was glad. Every moment she was around Taryn was becoming a struggle not to say what she was feeling. She didn't want to scare Taryn away, but it felt like the missing part of her heart had come home.

"Would you go out with me? Like, on a date?"

Rosalind turned and looked right at her. Taryn's tone was unsure, and she had never sounded like that. For the first time, it occurred to Rosalind that this might be new for Taryn, too. She was serious, and gentle, when she answered. "Of course I would." Rosalind managed not to tack sweetheart to the end of her sentence.

Taryn beamed. "A real date. Dress to the nines, go out to dinner, all that," she said, almost as if she were informing Rosalind of an obscure cultural practice that might be unpleasant or dangerous.

There was no need to hesitate. Rosalind offered her best smile. "Just say when, and I'm yours."

"Tomorrow night. Eight o'clock. Come by and pick me up."

Rosalind leaned in and kissed her, letting that be her answer.

When her bed's structural strength had been tested, when her pale peach sheets needed replacing, Rosalind slipped into her nightshirt and dropped back onto the bed. Taryn was leaning up against the headboards with the smug grin of a boy who has nothing left to prove. She'd stripped down to her boxers and sat with her arms behind her head. Rosalind couldn't shake the feeling that Taryn was still performing, still showing off. Not that she was complaining, exactly. Rosalind drew a lazy hand along her thigh, tracing the winged lion.

"Tell me about doing drag," Rosalind asked, feeling bold.

Taryn's grin lost some of its self-satisfied edge, softened by unexpected pleasure in the question. "What it's like or why I do it?"

"Both. Whatever you want to tell me. I know about women pa.s.sing as men during the Civil War. I've read about girls disguising themselves as boys to be sailors. I know Hatshepsut declared herself a man by the will of the G.o.ds to rule as Pharaoh. I don't know much about modern drag. Just talk. I like the sound of your voice when you talk about what you love."

"There are some who do it for money, deadly serious pa.s.sing. Some do it for s.e.x. It's righteous. I do it to hear the women howling for me."

"Dog." Rosalind's hand stopped its stroking. Taryn reached down and nudged it into starting again.

"Never claimed different. But it's more than that. For me it's natural. You know Egyptia? She's in drag when she ain't in a dress, you know? Male clothing isn't right on her. It fights against who she is. It's hard to watch."

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Picture me in a dress."

Rosalind tried. Her mind balked, finally producing an image that looked like a Milton Berle skit-Taryn in combat boots and a pink chiffon prom dress, the straps hanging off her broad shoulders. "Yikes."

"You see what I mean? That's not how nature intended it. All clothing is costume. But we don't live like it is. When I put on a suit it's illusion, sure. But the illusion can be more real than the real thing."

Rosalind saw Egyptia sighing in the chair, surrendering to the beautiful boy who sang to her. "That I willingly believe."

"Illusion and revelation are powerful magic. Rhea taught me that the trickster G.o.ds all do drag. They move between the male and female worlds and have secret knowledge."

"Drag as a sacred act. I like that. But I think you were being a little too honest when you told me you do it to hear the women howl for you."

"Hey, the G.o.ds have to have a sense of humor. They made me. I feel right in a suit. I feel s.e.xy. I'm just glad that some women agree."

There was a note of vulnerability in her tone that made Rosalind's heart ache. It gave the hint of a well of pain underneath the words that Taryn silenced. Rosalind pulled Taryn's head down and kissed her, softly.

The night had been sweet beyond imagining. Taryn had wrapped Rosalind up in a tangle of long arms and legs and fallen directly asleep. She was like a puppy. Her whole body was engaged in capturing her bedmate. Rosalind, frustrated by the amount of heat Taryn gave off, finally shucked her nightshirt and slept naked. She considered that having someone so warm-blooded might be an evolutionary benefit in Buffalo winters and so let it go. Taryn slept like the dead, leaving a quietly stunned Rosalind bouncing from an aching tenderness to a barely withheld l.u.s.t.

It was the first time Taryn had been so close to naked with her. It was close, but still far enough that Rosalind could barely see the sh.o.r.e. Rosalind couldn't stop looking at her-the naked length of her legs, the tattoo of a winged lion on her right thigh, the muscle bunching as she shifted in her sleep. Lean hips were seductively draped in the boxers, a veil drawn across the mystery. All the time they had been together, Taryn had gently but firmly moved her hands away whenever Rosalind reached to undress her. That had worked, but Rosalind was determined not to be put off forever.

She loved Taryn's body-the feel of her muscled arms, the width of her shoulders, the span of her hands. She wanted to be able to touch her, bring her the kind of pleasure she so willingly gave. She knew that she'd have to be patient. She'd been around Taryn enough to recognize a stubborn streak a mile wide. She would have to be talked out of her boxers an inch at a time. Wonder if it's all butch girls, a cultural thing, or just some of them?

There was something there she didn't understand yet, something she knew she'd come up against. It might be something bruised inside, it might be something else, but she wanted to know. She wanted to make Taryn her lover, in all that implied. Taryn slept on, innocent of the plotting done over her sleeping body. "My sweet bad boy," Rosalind whispered, and kissed her brow.

Taryn woke in the morning to find Rosalind walking in with a soup-bowl-sized coffee mug. She handed it to Taryn with a smile of triumph on her face.

"I went out and bought a French press and some new mugs. Just in case," Rosalind said, unable to reduce the size of her grin. Lord, I must look like a lunatic. She debated telling Taryn about the new bathrobe that hung on the back of the door, the toothbrush and set of towels, all purchased just in case.

Taryn sipped at the coffee like a leopard testing a water hole. "This is good. From Spot?" she asked, giving her approval.

Rosalind smiled brilliantly. "Mhm. Thought it was your favorite."

"You pay attention." There was no mistaking the note of approval in Taryn's voice.

Taryn slid over on the bed and slapped her hand down, requesting Rosalind to join her.

She did, crawling up next to Taryn, her hand dropping on Taryn's thigh. She traced the winged lion idly. "I thought you invited me up to see all your tattoos. Now I find one I haven't seen."

"I didn't say when. There's still one I have saved for a special occasion."

"Like when?" Rosalind asked, knowing she was teasing but unable to stop.

"Soon, I think," Taryn said, her eyes chips of sapphire over the white rim of the mug.

Rosalind pulled up at the Metro stop. Taryn had refused a ride home and requested a lift to the subway. She seemed easy, not twitching with restlessness, but Rosalind was afraid that was coming. She glanced repeatedly at Taryn, at her proud profile in the early morning light, at the relaxed way she slumped her long body in the seat. Taryn looked like the picture of ease, but Rosalind thought it might be deceptive ease. Like a panther before it breaks your neck, she thought, then wondered if that made her a gazelle or a wildebeest. She shook her head to clear it, then felt Taryn's hand ma.s.saging her neck.

"You're shaking. You okay?"

"I'm fine. Just wondering if I'm a gazelle, or...never mind." Rosalind took a deep breath, preparing herself for the girl's exit. Lord, one quiet night with her, and you think she's tamed? Ros, get a grip! her mind howled at her. Taryn wasn't someone who could be domesticated. She probably never has more than coffee with her new friends. An image of Taryn hopping from bed to bed, surviving on coffee and a raw charm, watching the sun rise from a different window every morning paraded through Rosalind's head.

"Hey. You in there? Your eyes keep glazing over," Taryn asked her, tightening her grip on Rosalind's neck.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I'm good. Peachy," Rosalind stammered, lost in the open regard. I'm fine, just don't sit so close. You're percolating my hormones...

"I'll still see you at eight tonight, right? You're not having second thoughts?" Taryn sounded earnest.

"I'll be there with bells on," Rosalind promised. Bells, on a gazelle? I'm turning into Dr. Seuss.

"There's a mental picture." Taryn opened the car door, looking at Rosalind with hooded eyes. Thoughts swam across her face and vanished, too fast for Rosalind to follow. That's what it looks like when she realizes I'm too old, or boring, or- Taryn threw herself across the seat, pinning Rosalind back. It was like the strike of a panther, no warning, and Rosalind found herself being kissed with a ferocity, an urgency she never would have read from Taryn's face. Rosalind shifted to catch up with Taryn's mercurial mood, abandoning all nagging thoughts and diving into the kiss. It was unlike any kiss Taryn had given her or she had given in return.

The pa.s.sion that lurked just below the surface was familiar, the madness threatening to overtake them, but the kiss was a plea, an emotional baring of the soul, an offering. Taryn was giving herself in that kiss, not seeking to rouse her body into a response. Taryn kissed her like her soul would fall out of her mouth if she moved away. Rosalind thought she could start to hear Taryn's thoughts with that kiss, hear the uncertainty lingering beneath them.

Taryn finally pulled back like leaving Rosalind's lips was an agony she had to endure. Her large hands held Rosalind's head captive, staring into her eyes from inches away, the look as naked as the kiss had been. "Thanks for letting me stay last night."

"You can stay anytime you want," Rosalind said, giving her the freedom, knowing that Taryn had to know how welcome she truly was. The sapphire eyes lit and glowed, gems over the heart of the sun.

"Meant only for kings?" Taryn asked, demanded, disbelief and hope fighting in her voice, making it rough.

"Meant only for kings," Rosalind repeated like a prayer, a call and response. It was true, and true things have a life of their own.

The blinding smile that came over Taryn's face was the most beautiful thing Rosalind had ever seen. It spoke of a raw, boundless joy that she had given someone she valued, with her words. That response, that overflowing of happiness, was for her. The pleasure that filled Rosalind from giving that gift made her drunk. Taryn's face transformed with it, bright as the sun, glorious. All from her words, from what she offered with them.

It was the first time in her life that Rosalind got a taste of her power as a woman, as a lover, to dispense joy. She wanted to give Taryn everything, to keep on seeing that smile. Taryn's hand stayed holding Rosalind's face. They both stayed, locked with each other. It was all Rosalind could do to keep from shouting her love. Not yet, a voice cautioned her. Let this moment be what it is. Savor it. Don't rush.

Rosalind knew her own urge was to grab everything with both hands, born of newly discovering her own heart. She found out how good it could be, and wanted it all now! She took this part of her aside and had a gentle chat with it, explaining how there had to be a rhythm, a measure to things, that rational adults didn't just go around proclaiming undying love for youthful drag kings, no matter how overwhelming that feeling was. The chat worked, Rosalind managed to bite back the words, but her eyes spoke every one.

"You better drive me home. I can't even get out of the car to leave you," Taryn said helplessly. Rosalind laughed. There was nothing else to do with the overflow of emotion, the joy blazing out of her heart. It was the laugh of a woman first tasting the depths of her own pa.s.sion and finding it good. She put her head back on the seat and laughed until tears ran from her eyes. Life was a joke, not a sick joke, but a good-natured one, where the punch line makes you groan and cover your eyes, it was so apparent.

Why hadn't anyone told her how this felt? Her laugh filled the car, and it made Taryn's smile get even broader, taking over her whole face. Her muscles ached from it, and she couldn't stop grinning. She was delighting her. Not just bringing her pleasure in bed, she was delighting her. The responsibility of it skimmed by, barely brushing her, the heady sweep of power claiming her first.

"Do you feel as good as I do right now?" Taryn asked, recklessly.

Rosalind coughed and wiped tears from her eyes, her smile rivaling Taryn's. "I think I do. You sure you want me to drive you home?"

Taryn exhaled and rubbed her hands on her thighs. "No. But it will be sweeter tonight if we spend the day apart."

"You're certain of that," Rosalind said, fingertips tracing a dangerous pattern on Taryn's thigh.

Taryn groaned and closed her eyes. "No. But I'd like to try it. Work with me here, Olchawski. You're killing me."

"Can't have that. All that fabulous potential, wasted. I'll be good."

Rosalind placed her hands firmly on the steering wheel. She kept them there, in a death grip, until they were parked in front of 34 Mariner. She took a deep breath, keeping her word to be good, then abandoned it. She reached for Taryn, but she was already there, in reach, too tempting to ignore. Rosalind wrapped her arms around her. Taryn held a finger up to Rosalind's lips, separating them.

"If you kiss me, I won't get out of the car," she said as a warning. It didn't seem to work.

"That would be bad why?" Rosalind asked, kissing the offered finger. She drew it into her mouth, sucking gently on it, her expression one of absolute innocence.

"I don't remember," Taryn said, drawing her finger out of Rosalind's mouth. She traced Rosalind's lips, then pushed it back in, her eyes gone feral.

"Hey! Get a room!"

Taryn snapped around with a vicious speed, only to find Joe leaning against the car, grinning amiably. He had a garbage can in either hand and hefted them, giving reason for his being on the curb. "Morning, Taryn. Good to see you again, Rosalind. I wondered where that kid went last night," he said, pleasant, genial, and very annoying.

"Good morning, Joe," Rosalind said, forgetting to blush. It was hard to keep working up shame around this household. Nothing seemed to faze them. Joe looked like he had just shaved. Dots of blood showed on his neck.

"Care for breakfast? I know you probably do," he said to Taryn.

"Go away." She drew her hand across her throat.

Joe refused the signal and set the cans down. He inhaled deeply, folding his arms over his chest. "Won't have a lot more mornings like this. Just beautiful. Makes you glad to be alive, doesn't it?"

"It's a problem you won't have much longer unless you get your a.s.s off the car and go back inside," Taryn growled.

Rosalind put a gentle hand on Taryn's arm, easing the tension. "It's okay. I was being bad. Why don't we behave, and I'll pick you up at eight?"

Taryn leaned in and kissed her, a bare brushing of her lips. Then she leaped out of the car, tearing off after Joe, who bolted up the steps with an impressive speed. No wonder she keeps acting like a thug teenager with Joe as a role model, Rosalind thought.

She sighed, gazing up the steps after them, then started the car. It wouldn't be too long until eight. She could be good for one day.

Chapter Five.