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clareisa · 4 years

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I’ll protect my Queen - mafia!AU -「I.M - Im Changkyun」

Request (requested by @xxkittenbebexx): Changkyun mafia Au, a death threat is aiming his S/O during their fiancee celebration party. Fluff could lead to smut as you want

A/N: Hope you like this one as well!♥

- gifs are not mine, credits to rightful owners

- English is not my first language, so please, excuse my mistakes

♥AUs Special Writing Season ♥

The mansion of MX family, how they were calling themselves, was today busier than it normally is at regular days. People, that could be only dreaming to take a look into the most beautiful villa in the neighbourhood, were today running around, stress taking over them, decorating the massive building for the special event that will be taking a place this evening. The French villa was impressive by itself with all of the luxury details on walls, heavy and expensive furniture from all around the world but the exotic flowers, shinning chandeliers and the live orchestra practising for the evening were creating extraordinary and blissful atmosphere.

And why such a madhouse and need of everything to be perfect? Well, one of the founders and the youngest brother in MX family was going to announce that he choose a woman that will be next to his side from now on until they’ll meet again in the afterlife. That he is finally ready to officially introduce the fourth queen of the underworld of Seoul, after his three older brothers Hyungwon, Kihyun and Minhyuk did as well. And this one is going to be the biggest and the best party in the world that is highly hiding from innocent society.

The veil of the night dropped on the city of Seoul and the villa of MX family opened the gates for special guests from all around the country and world as well. The air was filled with mystery and excitement. No one besides the seven founders and house servants ever saw the future wife of the youngest brother.

You were looking out of the window behind the curtain carefully so no one could see your face. Nervously you retracted the curtains fully, put your hand on your heart trying to calm down the fast beating of your heart and the buddle on nerves in your stomach. Carefully you moved in front of the golden mirror. Your eyes ran up and down your form trying to get used to the view in front of you.

Hair slicked back making your face and neck perfectly visible and serious looking. Scarlet red lipstick making your lips plump, eyeshadow making your eyes bigger and more cat-like and highlighted cheekbones was perfectly complementing each other perfectly. Looking at the choker-like pearl necklace made you smile because it was hiding the deep red Changkyn’s marks from last night. The long off-shoulders dark emerald green dress was hugging your figure perfectly. The Bardot neckline was showing your prominent collarbones and the slit starting in the middle of your thigh was making your right leg visible. Covered in luxury but you somehow felt naked.

The sound of the big mahogany door of your shared bedroom slowly opened and your lover peeked throught the gap. You turned to him, he fully opened them, entered the room and closed behind him.

Dark midnight black hair falling to his forehead, sharp eyes and perfectly fitting suit on his lean but defined muscular body made him the man that every woman desired but he was only yours and you both couldn’t be happier about it. The big smile appearing on his handsome face makes you a little more confident in your own skin. His dreamy gaze eyeing you up and down in complete trance made all the stress disappear in a second.

“You are absolutely gorgeous, my love.” he said looking back into your eyes. He slowly walked to you and as he was close enough, his hands wrapped around your waist gently while your arms wrapped around his neck.

“You really think so?” you asked giving him a small smile.

“Of course, my love. I can’t wait how all women will be jealous of your beauty and grace, all men jealous of me because I’m the one who has angel by his side and just all people being blinded by your dazzling aura.” Changkyun slowly caressed your cheek in a loving manner.

You chuckled and looked away for a moment trying to avoid the tears, “You should stop being this perfect or I’ll ruin my makeup.” you looked at him again with, now, bright smile.

“You can’t cry now. Save that tears for tonight when all guests will leave.” he winked showing that arrogant sly smirk of his that could drive crazy. You playfully hit his chest but avoided eye contact by hiding your face to the curve of his neck. Changkyun chuckled and kissed the top of your head while caressing your neck saying: “You don’t need to worry. I’ll protect you for the rest of my life. I would be happier if none of that people would ever see you but I can’t make you isolated.”

He leaned a little back and took your cheeks to his palms, “You gave up on your daily life because of me and my lifestyle. So at least I’ll make the best of this lifestyle for you.” you nodded smiling at him and he kissed your forehead.

“Let’s go, shall we?” he offered you his hand which you gladly took. You swallowed all your nervousness. In the end, you were with Changkyun, nothing bad can happen to you with him by your side.

The walk through the corridors was surprisingly quick and you both were already on the top of the staircase ready to walk down like a royal couple. You took a deep breath looked to Changkyun’s eyes and nodded with a small smile. Changkyun gave the small orchestra a signal with nodding and they started playing some classical piece. All heads immediately turned to your direction and you two started walking down the grand staircase. As your lover said earlier, almost all women were eyeing you with jealousy that you were the one standing next to Changkyun. Some were even poking their men in a jealous manner to stop them from starring at you. The only gazes that were calming you down belonged to other six brothers and wives of three of them that become your best friends since Changkyun introduced you to them.

All guests followed you to the garden where the grand dinner was prepared. They all sat down only you two were standing. “Let me introduce you all to the woman I’m planning to stay beside until the day I die. As you all know we got engaged just yesterday.” he said and everyone immediately cheered. Family expansion was always a big event in the mafia world.

Changkyun looked at you, holding his glass of champagne. “I fell for her dearly. I was never this happy in my whole life.” you smiled at each others, “And I’m even more careful than before. I’m ready to protect this woman with all of my life and since she’ll be soon part of your family as well I expect the same from all of you.” his face smile but voice colder than ice.

“So now please welcome my queen, the fourth queen of Seoul underworld. Cheers!” he lifted up the glass and everyone shouted the sam response with raised glasses. You both took a sip from the expensive liquor and bowed to all people in front of you in 90 degrees as act of respect. They bowed back as a symbol of welcoming you gladly in the family.

The dinner was going smoothly. Everyone enjoyed the food and now they were dancing on the build dancefloor in the garden after you and Changkyun got the first song just for yourself as the official new engaged couple. You were enjoying the celebration a lot so far. People who you were introduced to you were despite their high-class snobby looks were very warm-hearted and gladly welcomed you.

One of the waiters came to you two and put a beautiful cake, “Mr Im, this was sent as a gift from guests that couldn’t come tonight. Please enjoy. It should be a favourite flavour of our queen, red velvet.” he smiled and slowly walked back to the mansion. You were looking at him as he was walking. You knew all employees of the mansion but you never saw this one.

“You should cut the cake. It is your favourite so let’s cut it and eat it until Hoseok hyung and Hyunwoo hyung will come and eat it all.” he chuckled. You nodded, still not so sure about the waiter. You stood up and started cutting the dessert. It was really weird, it felt like it was filled with something else than the normal cake. As you finished the first cut you wanted to peak what was inside. As you pulled with the knife to the side something red wet and sticky immediately leaked out of the cake right on your leg.

You shouted in shock and jumped back when you saw the intestines leaking out and streaming down your revealed leg. You froze, your bottom lip was shaking, you couldn’t move. It wasn’t, of course, a real cake. It was just a top of the cake with carved inside where someone put a lot of rotten human intestines.

Changkyun was immediately standing up. “Close all the gates! All the doors! Now! No one will get out of here until I’ll find that jerk and stuff his mouth with this!” his voice was scary and angry. Everything immediately closed and everyone stopped talking and dancing.

“Babe?” you heard your lovers voice next to your ear. You looked with teary eyes at him. “It will be okay...Just look at me right now, okay?” he said and you slowly nodded. He took the napkins and slowly, still looking into your eyes, took off the parts of the intestines still stuck on your leg down. You could feel some of the rotten flesh slowly sliding down your skin. But the smell... the smell almost made you gag but the calming eyes of your fiancee were keeping you from breaking down.

“Now we will go and wash you, okay?” he smiled a little. You swallowed and nodded. He softly lifted you up and bridal style, not caring about your legs being bloody. As he was walking he called for Jooheon and told him: “Don’t let anyone leave. Check everyone and their invitation card and find that fucker who brought that cake to us.” Jooheon nodded and all the security, all brother and even their wives started searching for the culprit.

You hid your face to his shoulder gripping his suit tightly in your shaking hands. He quickly took you to your bedroom and entered your bathroom. He quickly helped you out of the blood-stained dress and helped you to stand in the shower. He took the showerhead and carefully cleaned you three times, especially your legs.

After he finished he dressed you into your favourite pyjamas and tucked you into your shared bed between the fluffy nice smelling sheets. Your breath became calmer but your eyes were still closed tightly not wanting to open them. You felt how Changkyun sat next to you on the left side. He was looking at you with a sad expression. His phone rang and he picked the call seeing Jooheon’s name on the screen.

“Yeah?” he asked.

Jooheon on the other end said, “We found him. It was a spy from our Busan rival.” he said. You could hear it all and you choose to focus on their voices instead of the vivid memory of this evening.

“Good. You know what to do... change up with others every two hours. I’ll take the final shot in the morning. I think we will be sending the same gift our Busan friends sent to us. But our package will be fresher.” your lover said in a cold voice and hanged up. You gulped. You knew what he meant by that and you were always kinda scared of him when he took care of such a “businesses”.

You felt his body came closer to you, wrapping his hands around you tightly and put your head on his chest. He took your still shaking hand and started placing butterfly kisses all over your palm and fingers and then he put it on his hot soft cheek.

“Love, you can open your eyes it’s just me.” he whispered but you shook your head no. “Please baby. It’s just us two.” he said and slowly placed a gentle kiss on both of your closed eyelids. As if his lips were magical you slowly opened your eyes and saw his handsome face with a sweet smile. He was still holding your palm against his cheek, kissing it occasionally.

“I’m sorry, it’s my fault, love. I should have known better.” he sighed sadly.

“It’s not your fault, Changkyun.” you smiled at him a little.

“They will get what they deserve. Don’t worry. But I should have known something would happen.” he tried to contain his anger.

“You did everything, love. I’m okay. I should start getting used to this. I know it will get only worse and I want to be ready, not break down like today.” you said in now much calmer voice.

The man next to you couldn’t help himself and kissed you. Maybe it was partly from pity or anger but most of it was from pure love and intentions to help you feel better. You gladly welcomed his soft lips on yours and kissed him back with the burning love you have for him. Your hands went to his dark locks and gripped the roots. His hands went to your thighs and started massaging them intensely. His skilled hands went under your silk top sending shivers because his cold hands touched the hot skin of your tummy.

He broke the kiss and looked into your eyes, “I just wanna make you feel good, love. You don’t have to agree. I just want you to forget everything and focus on just the feeling, the pleasure. Be greedy tonight and don’t care about anything but you. What do you think?” he asked carefully.

You didn’t know if it’s right but you would welcome to think about something else than what happened. And Changkyun always knew what you need. So you slowly nodded making your man smile. He kissed you once again and when he broke the kiss he already got that playful but lewd spark in his eyes along with his suggestive smirk. Changkyun laid on his side, his hand slowly going between your legs and gently separated your legs apart, holding your inner thigh. His fingers started ghosting around your sensitive area, pulling the material of silky shorts to the side making you gasp a little when the tip of his fingers brushed your folds.

“Let me take you from hell to heaven, my love.”

#I.M #i.m monsta x #i.m changkyun #chang #changkyun drabble #changkyun smut #changkyun fluff #monsta x #monsta x drabble #monsta x smut #monsta x fluff #monsta x oneshot #monsta x au

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raindrop-on-a-spiderweb · 5 years

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Ode to Aphrodite, Part 1

This is a bonus chapter about Fem!Leonardo and Patience. Part 2 might not be published for a while, at least until I crank out a few more chapters of Ragnatela. In any case I had a hell of a time writing it and figuring out Fem!Leonardo’s character. Enjoy!

“Mike, how can you ask me this? I’ve never given an interview in my life!”

The couple were in the kitchen of their cozy townhouse. The smell of meatloaf wafted through the air as Patience hurried to set their table for dinner—an easy task for a family of two.

Michael buried his head in his hands, elbows on the table. “Please! I need you to! I’ve never had a clash between appointments like this in my life. Both are equally important, but—“

“If they’re both equally important, why are you sending your untrained wife to go do one for you?” she spat acidly as she slid the meatloaf out of the oven.

He waved his papers towards her. “But you’re not untrained, Patience! I talk to you all the time about my job when I’ve come home from work.”

“That’s not the same as actually doing it, Mike!”

“Please, Patience. Both of these could make or break my career. Just go and interview Hofferson, and I’ll go to the journalists’ conference in Chicago. Easy as pie.”

Patience sighed heavily as she took her seat. Her fork lay stiffly beside her plate of spiced brown beef, but she felt no hunger, despite the fact she had been dieting lately. Her belly was churning at the prospect of having to interview a state senator.

“Okay,” she relented. “Only because you’re my husband, and it’s not as if I have much to do around here anyway…” she would never admit that being a housewife was much more work than it appeared. She didn’t want Mike to feel guilty.

He leaped up and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, Pat! I knew you’d come through for me! I love you!”

Even through her worry she felt a smile coming on. Her lovely bright-eyed husband telling her he loved her was always enough to cheer her up.

***

Hotel Caravaggio was a place she had only driven past and marveled at. The crème de la crème stayed at Caravaggio Hotel. The entrepreneurs, the socialites, the politicians, and the people of less reputable means who nonetheless had amassed enough money to be accepted into the elite. It was a massive stone building with a clock face at the very top, fashioned like a castle with domes, arches and stories upon stories stretching into the sky. Under the archway of the entrance an attendant was checking credentials, and she prayed they would let her through even without her first name on her ticket, but it seemed enough to convince them and they waved her through. She followed the crowd past the lobby into the ballroom.

Patience was wearing her best dress, the dress she had gotten married in. She had not been able to afford a big wedding, so she and Michael had gotten married at the courthouse. It was a swing dress in olive green, falling to flare just below her ankles, with straps holding it above her modest bust. She remembered Michael pale-faced and sweating in his ill-fitting suit, but so handsome with the shine in his eyes when he said his vows. She kept that memory close to her heart.

She nervously noted the jewelry glittering on every woman’s neck and wrists. She wore no jewelry, save for her wedding ring and two gold rings in her ears. Patience had never been one for jewelry, and with her husband as a struggling journalist, she needed it even less.

Patience stayed to the side, sidestepping the ruffles and billowing ballgowns of the party denizens. She peered around for Senator Hofferson, trying to spot his thick black mustache and glasses. She kept stepping on peoples’ shoes, apologizing, and stumbling around. Good grief, was she out of her league.

When Patience spotted him she sighed with relief, rapidly stepping forward. “Excuse me! Sir—Senator Hofferson!”

Senator Hofferson was talking to another journalist, teeth gleaming white under his black mustache. “Excuse me!”

The Senator turned to her, still smiling, but his eyes were slightly disdainful. “Hello, madam. And you are?”

“I’m the journalist here to interview you. Mrs. Sheehan.” She straightened up. “To start out, can I ask you about tax reform in—“

“I’m sorry, I thought I was being interviewed by a Mr. Sheehan,” he said, his voice laced with condescension.

Everyone in the crowd was looking at her. Sweat broke out across her forehead. “I—“

“Could he not come? I’m sure we can make some later date. Now if you excuse me, I have another interview I need to get back to.” He ostentatiously turned to the other journalist, leaving her quivering and dowdy in her old dress, dozens of eyes on her. Giggles erupted around her. Patience swung around and began wading to the entrance, tears swimming in her eyes. The embarrassment was burning her face and making her legs weak.

Patience had failed Michael.

As soon as she made it out the door she collapsed in tears. The feeling of all those eyes on her, pricking her, wouldn’t go away. She slid down the stone wall until she was on her haunches, her high heels grinding against the concrete, and cried.

“Are you all right, ma’am?” asked a valet nervously. Patience waved him away. She wanted to stop crying, but the tears wouldn’t stop coming. Her chest was beginning to hurt with the sobs.

“Are you… shall I call a cab?” said someone else.

“Madam? What’s wrong?”

“Did something happen to you?”

“All of you, stop it,” said a sharper, more feminine voice. “Stop asking her questions. She’s distressed. Dolcezza, come here.”

The voice was deep and yet very feminine, with a slight lilt of a foreign accent. It sounded like a flute in her ears. Patience was gently drawn into someone’s arms.

Something flowery hit her nose, a light perfume that smelled like a rose garden. Patience’s face was suddenly nested against someone’s smooth nape. “Sweetheart, sweetheart. Tell me what’s wrong.

Patience sniffled. “Nothing. I’m sorry...”

“You can tell me. Go on, shoo! Let us be!” the woman reprimanded the rest of the crowd, who drifted away. Patience watched them leave from over the woman’s shoulder, amazed even through her tears that they obeyed so suddenly and quickly.

“It was just… I wanted to interview someone, and he told me he didn’t want to… it’s nothing, really, I’m so, so sorry…” She hitched another humiliated sob, her tears staining the woman’s porcelain skin as she separated.

She was very tall and statuesque. With her stunning good looks, patience wondered if she were a model or singer. She towered over Patience, wearing a glittering white evening gown with a feather boa hanging low on her arms. The dress was cut low, revealing several too many inches of bust. The dress was also slit up the side, revealing the edge of black lace pantyhose. She didn’t know what was making her jaw drop more, the beauty of the woman or the sheer audacity of her clothes.

Sparkling red heels gave the woman an extra lift, and clicked as she stepped back to look at her, even though her strong hands still stayed on her shoulders, squeezing her gently.

The woman was so beautiful she nearly took her breath away. Long curls the color of dark gold tumbled down her back and down to brush the tops of her breasts. Her face was what Patience always imagined a goddess’s to be like; high cheekbones, light, arching eyebrows, and skin as smooth and unblemished as a statue. Her nose was elegantly curved, giving her a regal Cleopatra air. Her mouth as red as a drop of blood, the top daintily arched in a cupid’s bow. And her eyes…

Patience noticed she was staring, and looked down. “I’ll—I’ll call a taxi, I’m awfully sorry to bother you, Madam—“

“Bianconi,” offered the woman easily. “Nee Borghese. And don’t apologize. We women have to stick up for each here. Oh, no, honey, I can’t leave you to go home looking like that! All puffy and sad. Come up to my hotel room. We’ll get a few drinks and I’ll make you look so much prettier.”

***

Patience stayed perfectly still as Mrs. Bianconi carefully applied two lines of dark eyeshadow to her lids. She wanted desperately to blink, to itch and scrunch her face, but she didn’t want to disappoint her and ruin the meticulous makeup Mrs. Bianconi had spent the last half hour applying.

The bathroom, like her hotel room, was opulent, Fluffy towels hung over marble baths and walls, and the bathtub was large enough to fit four people in. The bathtub was bigger than her whole closet!

The lights above were crystal, fashioned in the shape of a flower, and they threw Mrs. Bianconi’s face into half-shadow as she leaned back. “There,” she said finally, capping the eyeshadow tube. “You look so much more beautiful now.”

Almost apprehensively, Patience slowly turned to the mirror. It was like looking at a different person. Her red eyes, her tears were gone. The lines of the rouge, the mascara, the powder, made her soft, round features sharper, and the stark lines of eyeliner made her face stand out like an Egyptian goddess. Her lips were lined with dark velvet lipstick, and her eyeshadow tilted up at the edge in a fierce curve. She looked like a Bond woman. A femme fatale. She felt strong.

“The darkness of the eyeshadow brings out the green in your eyes,” said Mrs. Bianconi softly. “It makes them so vivid. You have beautiful eyes. Like emeralds.”

Patience shyly looked up at her. She was so elegant and graceful, one leg crossed over the other and her shoulders straight and proud.

“Come downstairs,” Mrs. Bianconi said, pulling her up. “We’ll dance. You’ll have so much fun.”

“No!” Patience shook her head furiously. The humiliation was still there, biting into her mind, and she didn’t even want to imagine going downstairs again and feeling all those eyes boring into her.

“All right,” Mrs. Bianconi said reassuringly, her arms trailing comfortingly down her arms. Her touch was nice. Soft, Gentle. Her long nails ran down her skin reassuringly. “You know what? We can have a party in here, just the two of us.”

“Won’t people miss you?” she blurted.

Mrs. Bianconi laughed a regal laugh. “Let them. A queen always has to be fashionably late, doesn’t she?”

The radio was on, Love Me Tender playing in Elvis’s sultry voice. Mrs. Bianconi took her hand gently in hers and pulled her up.

Patience didn’t know how to dance. The closest she had come was her disastrous prom with Hank Yancy, who was on the bottom of the totem pole in school and who had still abandoned her out of embarrassment halfway through the prom.

And now Patience was dancing with a gorgeous woman who looked at her with eyes so attentive and beautiful she felt like she was the only person in the world. Eyes that were the color of deep night, of a Van Gogh painting with their swirls of midnight blue.

Love me tender, love me sweet

Never let me go

You have made my life complete

And I love you so…

Patience felt guilty, like she was unworthy of dancing with this beautiful woman. Why had this goddess deigned to bother with her? She was so beautiful, she would have men falling at her feet an day of the week. Why concern herself with a dowdy housewife who had cried and embarrassed herself in front of everybody?

Mrs. Bianconi led her gently, one step after another, their bodies pressed against each other. She was so warm, her scent so nice, her filmy dress glimmering with a thousand crystals. Her voice was husky as she purred into her ear. “What’s your name, dolcezza?”

“Patience,” she managed. “Patience Sheehan.”

“Irish, hm?”

“No. Just married to one.”

The woman’s lips curved into a red smile. “My name is Leona, Leona Bianconi. But call me Leona. Or Leonella.”

***

Michael had exhibited his typical behavior upon learning she hadn’t been able to do the interview: he had blamed her, then himself. Ironically, him blaming himself had caused her more guilt. He had shut himself in his room and she had busied herself as a housewife should, but her guilt still seeped into her.

It was his job and she should have done better She should have pursued Hofferson. She should have embarrassed HIM. Instead she had limped out and cried to herself, and only let herself be cheered up by another woman who had taken pity on her.

Patience remembered the number in her pocket. That night, when Michael was on the couch and she was not looking forward to sleeping in a cold, dark room, she called her.

“Pronto?” said a thick, purring Italian accent.

“Hello… um, this is Patience. You gave me your number, so I—“ she looked at her nails.

“Oh! Pazienza! I was waiting for you to call me! I was thinking of you all night. I have a opportunity for you. A very special one! No, I won’t tell you, you must come first. Please, come tomorrow. Come to 1720 Fontaine street—we’re in the show business district, you know, by the big brick theater.” Oh my god. The show business district. “Come tomorrow. I’ll look forward to seeing you, dolcezza.”

A long time afterwards Patience kept lingering on that word. Dolcezza. The faint accent that lingered on the tip of her tongue, the way her lips kissed her name, her long, dark eyelashes and her eyes the color of the deep sea.

***

“Bye, honey.”

“Bye, Mike.” Patience bestowed a kiss on his nose, and wagged her fingers at him as she left. She drove through the suburbs, past the shops, and eventually through the sparkling high-rises of downtown Garland City. She got caught in a traffic jam in the show business district and inched past the glowing neon lights of the Garland City Theater. She began to feel shy. She debated heading back.

The feeling grew even more as she entered a gated community filled with enormous houses three or more stories, made of stone, brick, wood, some painted like a rainbow and some dull, some with gaudy, elaborate decorations on the outside and some with slightly fewer gaudy, elaborate decorations on the outside.

With one eye on the ragged piece of paper in her hand, she drove until she came into sight of a house far larger than any of the impressive ones on the street. Stone walls surrounded the property, and she could see fruit tees poking their heads over the top.

It looked like a cathedral, it was so big—the main frame stood tall and proud, made of unblemished stone with stained glass set into the top. Underneath were tall stone columns buried in the earth. Beside it were shorter flat buildings spanning the grounds, gargoyles arching their heads above them. Their arching windows, doors, the thick stone chimneys and the dark, spiraling turrets set into the tops gave off a gloomy air, but when she saw the blonde figure standing in the driveway, wearing a fur-lined dress and rabbit muff, her heart leaped again. “Mr. Bian—Leona!”

Leona greeted her with a kiss on both cheeks. “Dolcezza, how lovely it is that you made it!”

“It wasn’t much of a chore. Your mansion is, like, twice the size of the other ones.”

“Oh, that’s all Tommy. When we bought it, it just had to be bigger and better than all of the other ones. It’s a man thing, you know. Overcompensating.” She winked.

Rubbing the red lipstick off her cheeks, Patience followed her inside. In the kitchen, a broad man with a bulbous nose like a potato was putting a coat on and fumbling for key. “Gotta go, hun. Got a sudden call from Jim O’Toole. Union business. Is that your friend?” he smiled at Patience. “Jesus crackers, aren’t you a cute thing! Don’t go getting into trouble now, the two of you.”

He slapped Leona’s bottom on the way out, and her pleasantly smiling face dropped for a moment, something close to a dark, venomous look replacing it, before the smile went up again.

“Come with me, Pazienza. I’ll show you around.”

***

“This is the living room—well, one of them. The chimney is three hundred years old—we had it shipped from James Madison’s summer home in Virginia. I bought the silk brocade curtains at an auction in Vienna; they’re the same ones that hung in the opera house where Mozart debuted many of his operas…”

Patience was transfixed at Leona’s explanations. She was almost too afraid to touch anything—like a museum, the splendor and opulence of her surroundings overwhelmed her. “My goodness! It must have cost a fortune!”

“Tommy is very influential in the unions. And I, of course, have a highly successful fashion line. My next exhibition is in Paris this March.”

“Wow,” she said. Patience had the feeling she would be saying that a lot. Something crinkled in her pocket. “Oh! Before I forget.” She pulled out a small red box with a bow glued on the front and handed it over to Leona. “Here… for you.” Embarrassment colored her cheeks. “I know it’s probably a lot worse than what you’re used to…”

“Oh, how sweet of you!” Leona plucked the bow off and opened it, poppin a chocolate into her mouth. “You shouldn’t have! I’ve been watching my weight lately, but I can’t resist chocolates…”

“I don’t know why you’d have to,” murmured Patience, watching her figure beneath her dress. Leona wasn’t like Patience, who had the figure of a stick. She was thick-hipped and large-breasted, curvy in the places it mattered.

“These are sublime, I love pralines. Where did you get them?”

“W-W-Woolworths,” she muttered, blushing deeper. Leona paused, then smiled wider. She pinched her cheek with her long fingernails. “You are just so precious when you’re embarrassed! Come with me, I’ll give you the grand tour. Just wait until you see the indoor swimming pool.”

***

“And here is my bedroom. I modeled it after Marie Antoinette’s personal chamber in Versailles—I have French blood, you see.”

“Wow!” said Patience, and this time she really did mean it. Her bedroom was done in gold and silver with floral motifs on the walls and bedcovers. A silken canopy covered the top of her bed, falling in a silver waterfall down to the floor. A floor-length mirror, edged in gold, took up the far wall.

“It’s so, so… I mean… it’s…the most beautiful room I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ve been thinking of redecorating,” Leona said dismissively as she closed the door. “Now, my darling, surely you must know you’re not just here to look at my house.”

“Yes!” Patience remembered their conversation on the phone. “You said you had an opportunity you wanted to offer me?”

“Indeed.” She locked the door with a click. “Now, as you know, I am a fashion designer. And the moment I saw you, I knew immediately what I wanted with you.”

She went over to her closet (which was approximately the size of the bedroom Patience shared with Michael) and pulled out a leather suitcase. “You see, I’ve been looking to branch out. You know, obtain some success beyond the catwalk. And for that I need more than the usual tall, slinky models. I need people of all shapes and sizes. And you, my love, have a tiny, skinny frame that’s just right for the line of lingerie that I hope to market.”

“L-Lingerie?” Patience stared in disbelief as Leona pulled a pair of panties and a bra out of her suitcase, so skinny and translucent they might have been pieces of tissue.

“Yes! Would you like to model for me? I need a real-life model so I can accurately develop these designs. It’s one thing to draw out the designs and sew them, but I need to make sure they fit perfectly before I send them for a test run.”

“I…I…” Patience felt like a rabbit trapped in the corner. She didn’t want to model. She’d always been self-conscious. And that bra! It looked like the size of a napkin!

But Leona had been awfully nice to her. And the way she was standing there, staring at her expectantly with baby-blue eyes under her long dark eyelashes, made her refusal die in her throat. “I… okay. All right. I’ll do it for you.” Just this once, Patience promised herself.

The girl took the lingerie and looked around. “Is there a bathroom here?”

Leona was sitting on an ottoman, legs crossed over one another. “Why? We’re both women, what does it matter?”

Her voice felt like silk sliding over her skin. Patience looked down at the articles of clothing. “I… all right.”

She turned her back to Leona and unbuttoned her coat. Then she took off her white blouse, folded it slowly, and put it down beside her. Next came her pantyhose, sliding down her legs, and she hesitated before she pulled down her skirt. Now she was only in her thick-cupped bra and white panties. Patience felt ashamed, suddenly, at her plain white underwear, and wondered what kind of underwear Leona wore. Probably something red and velvet, to make that fat man she called her husband happy.

Patience undressed fully and crouched down to slide on the panties. She could feel Leona’s eyes boring into her, silently taking in each inch of skin. Against her own will, her eyes traveled to the mirror. In the refection she saw Leona on the ottoman, staring with an unreadable expression on her face, slowly lifting a chocolate to her mouth with the tips of her nails. A strand of caramel fell across the older woman’s lip, and her tongue went to leisurely lick it off. When her eyes flicked to hers in the mirror, Patience looked away hurriedly and busied herself with fastening the bra.

When she got it fastened and turned around, Leona was as smiling and lively as she had always been. “Come on, turn around again! Let’s get a good look at you. Take a look at yourself in the mirror. Oh, my darling, you look like a feast.”

It was true. She did.

Perhaps it was because Patience never had a sense of fashion—and her mother had a fashion sense that was consistently two decades out of date—but she was not used to wearing things that fit her well, or were fashionable, and especially were not sexy. But this… it looked amazing. The purple cups gave her breasts a subtle lift, making them seem fuller than they actually were. The panties were high-waisted, made of silk so thin she could almost see the texture of her skin through it. The cut of them was generous and made her legs seem long and sleek.

“It looks lovely,” Patience said, grinning broadly as she turned to Leona. Her smile vanished when she saw the older woman frowning, her pretty face creasing. “What’s wrong?”

“It needs adjusting.” Leona stepped up to Patience and took her by the shoulders. Patience obeyed her unquestioningly as she was firmly turned to face the mirror.

Leona’s hands slid under the waistband of her panties, testing the looseness. A shiver crept down Patience’s neck as they slid farther, down her thigh. The gentle curve of her nails, the softness of her palm, the feeling of her breath on her neck… all of it made her lower belly start to fragment.

Patience looked up at the mirror. Leona was pressed so close to her, there was barely an inch of space between them. The heaviness of her breasts pressed against her shoulderblades.

Leona’s other hand went under her bra, slowly tracing the underside of her breast with the soft bad of her finger. Patience stifled a gasp. Leona’s flowery perfume was heady. She felt like she was getting drunk on it. Something wet began to seep into her panties, staining the silk dark.

When Leona pulled away, Patience wanted to collapse. The blonde woman was taking out a silver needle and a spool of purple thread and kneeling in front of her. “It’s too loose at the waistband. Stay very still for me, dolcezza, or else you might get pricked.”

Patience didn’t move a muscle as the needle began darting into the purple fabric. All she could hear was the older woman’s breath, coming in soft in the quiet room.

“My father was a tailor, you know,” Leona said quietly as she darned the fabric. “From Sicily. He taught me all I knew.”

“A tailor?” Leona seemed as if opulence and grandeur came to her naturally. The thought that her father had been just a Sicilian tailor—the thought that she might have been raised poor—

Leona pulled the needle forward, closing the stitch. She leaned forward until her breath brushed the top of her thighs. Her mouth sealed onto her skin in a kiss a she bit into the thead in order to break it, just below the dip between her thighs that led to her secret passage. Leona’s tongue flicked out and brushed a fraction of inch away from her center, and an overwhelming wash of pleasure, centered between her legs, came over Patience as the kiss deepened.

Then Leona pulled away, neatly nipping the thread in two with her teeth. “There. All done. The adjustments are finished.”

Patience was shaky-legged, and wanted to collapse onto the bed. Instead she began gathering her clothes. “Thank you for showing me around, Mrs. Bianconi, now I really must be going—“

“Oh, nonsense. You must stay for dinner. We’re having a traditional Italian dish, stuffed squid—“

Things with tentacles made Patience’s belly churn. “No, I’m sorry, my husband is expecting me back.”

Leona was quiet. “Oh.” Then, “Well, I certainly hope I haven’t made you feel awkward.”

“Not at all!” said Patience, panicking. Leona had been such a good host, and such a respectful seamstress. “I just need to get back soon, put the roast in, et cetera. I will see you again, I promise!”

Patience left in a hurry, slamming her car door after her. When she looked in the rearview mirror, Leona was leaning against the doorway, staring silently with a smile playing on her lips. Patience smiled back at her and waved, and Leona lifted one elegant hand back.

***

Patience didn’t know why she was feeling this way. Like she had just been on a rollercoaster. Her cheeks were flushed and her heart was thudding. She was distracted all day. She burned the roast and snapped at Michael when he moaned about it. Feeling bad for him, she let Michael climb on top of her that night.

Was this just true, pure friendship? Did she genuinely want to be friends with this wonderful woman? Patience had never been close friends with another woman, and even during college had been the odd one out in her dormitory. Now that this beautiful, elegant, kind woman was paying attention to her, and her alone, her head was in the sky and she didn’t know how to react.

Patience looked at the ceiling, memorizing every crack in the plaster as Michael gasped and humped away. She had never enjoyed lovemaking, although she loved Michael, and this night she felt particularly unsatisfied for some reason. When he spent himself and rolled onto his back, she turned to face him. “Michael?”

He brushed a lock of hair away from her face. “What is it, hun?” he stared at her with bare adoration.

“Can you…” she had been married for years, but felt embarrassed to say it. “Can you.., put your mouth on me? Between my legs?”

Michael looked shocked. “Why? Why would I do that?”

“I… nothing.” She turned over to face the wall.

Michael tried to cajole her to cuddle, but she wasn’t in the mood and he left for the living room. She heard him switch on the radio to baseball. She lay in bed, listening to the commentator breathlessly narrate the match, acutely aware of the throbbing between her legs

***

A week later the phone rung and Patience answered it with a terse “Sheehan household, who’s speaking?”

The voice that sounded from the other end made her heart soar. “Pazienza? Is that you, darling?”

“Yes! Yes!” Patience hoped her enthusiasm didn’t come through to the other end. The last week she had been tormented with thoughts that she would never hear from Leona again. It bothered her more than she thought it would. “It’s me! How have you been, Leona?”

“I’ve been lovely, dolcezza. The reason I call is because I hear Trenton Island is having a fair today. It is such a lovely day, and I have no one to spend it with. Would you like to come with me?”

If Patience had been in a less excited state of mind she would have wondered why someone as beautiful and popular as Leona didn’t have anyone to spend a day out with, but she was so eager to see her again it barely warranted a thought. “Yes, of course! Shall I meet you there?”

“How about in front of the boardwalk?”

“Yes! I’ll see you soon!” Patience hung up and walked to her closet, debating her meager selection of clothes. Her green wedding swing dress was the only item of value she had, stuffed in the back of her moth-eaten closet, and it needed ironing. Eventually she picked two items of clothing she had owned in high school, a pair of denim shorts and a low-cut, puffy-sleeved polka dot top. She put on a pair of sunglasses to keep the sun out of her eyes and borrowed Michael’s car, driving toward the crowds of Trenton Island.

***

Patience recognized Leona immediately. She was wearing a long, brown fur coat, made of gray-tipped mink, standing tall and regal on the dirty sand in front of the boardwalk. Patience ran into her arms, and Leona squeezed her tightly before letting her go. Leona wore a pearl necklace and matching earrings, and her lipstick was bright red. “Shall we go?”

Patience nodded vigorously and took her outstretched hand, and they made their way through the fair.

Leona bought them thick sticks of pink cotton candy, and they got in line for the Ferris Wheel. While they were in line they got to talking. As was their luck they got stuck at the very top of the Ferris Wheel, and as Leona peaceably munched her cotton candy and looked out at the glittering sea, Patience clutched her arm in fright, trying not to look down and blabbering to keep her mind off the height.

Patience told her about being raised in a small Massachusetts town named Greenhaven, and how her father was a constable who always seemed to be absent from their family. She told her about graduating high school and moving to Garland City to pursue secretary school and escape from the suffocating environment of her small town. She talked about how she had met Michael at the journalism firm they both worked at. They hit it off and married almost a month later. She had quit her job to take care of the household and children, but the children never came.

They went on the teacup rides. Patience became more intimate. She told Leona how unfulfilled she felt as a housewife, watching the house all day, doing her nails while keeping an eye on the TV. The crib they had bought for their children gathered dust in the attic.

And through it all Leona listened, eyes big and blue and so understanding.

The teacup ride had made Patience dizzy and made her want to hork up her pink cotton candy. So they went walking through the crowds, looking at the cattle shows, the dressage competitions.

A circle of men and women surrounded a bare patch of field were two men in boxing gloves swing at each other. There was blood on the grass and blood on their faces. Leona stopped to look, and something in her eye gleamed as she watched them. The men and women were hurriedly placing bets, their faces shining with sweat. Patience didn’t like seeing people hurt, so she tried to pull her away, but Leona stood her ground

The man swung and the other man staggered back a few steps, glaring out from the rapidly- swelling ridge of black tissue above his eyes. He stepped forward and slammed his glove into the other man’s midriff, to gasps by the crowd, and the other man finally went down.

The man spat out the piece of foam he had in his mouth and raised his boxing gloves above his head. The crowd erupted in cheers. The boxer staggered toward the rim of the ring, and his unfocused eyes caught Leona. “Kiss from the lady, for a match well fought?” he slurred. Leona smiled, her perfect red lips rising in a gentle curve.

Patience suddenly found herself frightened. And the fright was mixed with a sort of protectiveness. The thought of his clumsy, drool-slicked lips pressing against Leona’s perfect ones horrified her. And as the boxer leaned forward to kiss her, she leaped into action.

“I’ll give her your kiss!” she explained, and kissed him squarely on his bloody lips. Then she turned and kissed Leona on her cheek.

The crowd paused, as if in shock. Then after a silence, they erupted into laughter. Even the winning boxer let out a few guffaws.

Patience pulled Leona away from the boxing ring. Now the sun was beginning to set, painting the far horizon with red and orange streaks that reflected off the iron-gray sea. The sea air smelled fresh, mixed with the smell of grease and hot dogs and popcorn.

“You’re a quirky little thing,” said Leona. “And a quick thinker, too. You leaped right into action.”

Patience huffed. “He was going to hurt you.”

“You didn’t need to. I’m used to taking care of myself.”

Leona squeezed her hand comfortingly. They walked along the beach, listening to the toot-toot of the carnival music. They took off their shoes and let the waves wash over their feet. The grit of the sand felt good between her toes.

“Look. This one’s pretty.” Patience picked up an oval seashell, stained with cream and rusty red. She held up to the sky. “Looks like the sunset.”

“This one’s prettier.” Leona was holding up a green limpet, rimmed with pattern like black lace. She held it up beside Patience’s face. “It’s as green as your eyes. And beautiful—like your eyes as well.”

Patience looked into her smiling face and wondered if she would ever feel the same sense of wonder and adoration again. Leona gave her the seashell, and Patience put it securely deep down in her pocket.

They chased the waves and snatched seashells from the surf, the girl in her shorts and polka-dot shirt, and the rich woman in her fur coat. They laughed and compared shells, barnacled rocks, and pieces of glass worn smooth by the surf. And finally, when they were exhausted, they sat by the dock and watched the sun disappear below the horizon.

Patience became aware of her hand in Leona’s. Leona’s hand was soft and warm. She looked at the older woman and smiled, and the older woman smiled back, her blonde curls brushing her collar as she lifted her head to look at her.

“Are you my friend?” Patience asked her, a little timidly.

Leona smiled back. “No.” and just as Patience’s heart began to plummet, said, “I’m your best friend.”

Then Leona leaned forward and kissed her. Her lips pressed against hers, pursed in an O, and then her tongue slid against hers, just once. When they separated Patience’s chest was rapidly rising and falling and her eyelashes were half-lidding her eyes. She looked up at the tall woman, with her gentle smile and her fur coat and blue eyes and the red of the sunset behind her, and the feeling she had in her heart had to be the purest of friendship, because she thought it had to have been more passionate, more true, and more warm than anything she had ever experienced.

***

When Patience got home, Michael was angry.

He was rarely angry, but lately he seemed on edge and had lost his temper more than once. When she came in through the front door, lips stained with lipstick and pink cotton candy, he began yelling.

“Where the hell have you been? Why haven’t you called me? Were you with another man?”

“No! I was out at the fair with Mrs. Bianconi!”

“Why do I doubt that? Why do I think you made this ‘Mrs Bianconi’ up? Why have you been so absent lately? So irritated at me? I know you’re seeing another man!”

Michael’s eyes were full of tears behind his glasses and his voice was hoarse and sobbing, and he took a magazine from the end table and hauled it at her. The pages fluttered like the wings of a bird in the air before it landed at her feet.

Patience ran forward and took him in her arms. “I’ll introduce you, I promise! I really was out with a friend! I’m just… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you!”

Michael was crying again, his whole body limp, and she felt overwhelming shame at having been out cavorting with a female friend instead of taking care of the needs of her husband. “Go lie down,” she said. “I’ll make you chicken soup.”

“No. I have the night shift, remember?”

Patience could do nothing but helplessly watch as Michael dressed and packed his papers in his carpetbag, eyes red and puffy behind his glasses. “I love you,” she told him desperately as he left.

Michael paused, and she could feel the I love you too in his stance, raw and honest. But he said nothing, and without a word closed the front door after him.

***

Patience ignored calls for the next few weeks. She focused on the house and her husband. She settled herself into gentle domestic tedium. Michael got a promotion to deputy editor, and she was happy for him—if he got a raise, maybe they could move into a better house, perhaps on the east side of Garland. If he ever got promoted to Chief Editor, they could even possibly move to Terracina Heights, maybe into a nice bungalow overlooking the bay. And by then they would have children, maybe two or three, one for each bedroom. Unbidden she thought of sitting by the sea, and Leona’s soft hand in hers

Patience got a call a few weeks later. She was ironing Michael’s suit as her husband sat, watching the game on TV and keeping half an eye on the paper. The phone rang a few times, and Michael turned to look at her quizzically, and she finally picked it up

“Hello?”

“Dolcezza?”

Patience considered hanging up there and then, but she couldn’t deny the thrill that went through her body. “Oh… hello.”

“Have you been busy these past few weeks?”

“Yes. Michael just a promotion.”

“Complimenti! Give him my congratulations!”

“I will,” Patience promised, desperately wanting her to keep on the phone, and yet wanting her to hang up and leave her life forever.

“There’s going to be a party at the Garland City Opera House. We’re holding a celebration for the debut of my fashion line in France.”

“Oh. How… nice.”

“I wanted to know if you would come.”

Patience swallowed hard, keeping her gaze on the back of Michael’s head. She knew she needed to stay with her husband, help and support him through his promotion, and focus all her attentions on him. But…

“I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

Leona paused, then her voice became intimate. “It’s up to you. But I would love it if you were able to come, dolcezza.”

“Who was it?” said Michael after she hung up.

“Just my mom,” said Patience.

***

Patience’s insides were writhing. She wanted to be there for her husband, but Leona’s face, her voice, her touch, was in her head and wasn’t going away. She found herself browsing dresses while going out for bread and milk, wondering how each one would look on her, imagining herself dancing at Leona’s ball.

Patience rolled the bread dough out, covered with flour up to her elbows. She could smell the smoke of Michael’s pipe, and it reminded her of her father. “Michael?” she said.

“What is it, hun?”

“Nothing,” she said and kept rolling.

That night she tossed and turned, knowing it was one more day until she could make her decision. Michael slept soundly. He had always been a deep sleeper, no matter how stressed he was.

That morning dawned bright and early, and Michael was polishing his shoes for his brand new day as Deputy Editor. His ironed suit was hanging up in the closet, dry-cleaned and fresh.

Patience watched the news, her legs drawn up under her. The mayor, Gerald Nizzola, was calling for more stringent sentencing for criminals. “Mike?” she said.

“Yeah?”

“I got a call a couple days ago. It was Mrs. Bianconi.”

She heard him falter in his polishing. “Oh… all right.”

“And she… she invited me to a party. I wanted to know if I could go.”

Patience heard him stop altogether. Cringing inwardly, she hunched her shoulders as he walked over.

He paused where he was, then let out a sigh. Then he pressed a kiss softly to her hair. “Of course, honey. Go and have fun.”

Patience brightened up. “Thank you, Mike!”

Michael smiled down at her. “Hey. I just got promoted. It can’t just be me having a good time. You have the time of your life, Pat. Promise me?”

Patience looked up at him with glimmering eyes. “I will. I promise. I love you, Mike!”

***

Patience took out her olive green velvet swing dress and elbow-length gloves. She looked at herself in the mirror, turning this way and that. She had ironed it as best she could, it was old, and there were crumples at the edge of her sleeves and waist. The skirt fabric was too stiff. But she looked nice enough in it. She hoped not many people would stare.

Leona was nice enough to send a limousine, an actual limousine, and she felt self-conscious when she got in and closed the door behind her. On their suburban street, the limousine was too sleek, too fancy, outshining the station wagons and family sedans.

Patience adjusted her gloves and smoothed the dress over her knees. She checked herself in the rearview mirror, making sure no stray strands of hair escaped from her bun.

The Garland City Opera House parking was filled up for three streets over, but the limousine cut through the crowds and cars as easily as a hot knife through butter. Patience was dropped off in front of the vast, magnificent Opera House. The sandstone building, with its Spanish-style architecture, was gorgeous and lit with a thousand lights that glimmered so tall she didn’t know whether she was seeing the stars or the lights themselves.

Everyone was wearing chic evening dresses and tuxedos, a rainbow of silk and fur and glimmering jewelry. Keeping an eye out for Leona, Patience tried to slip through the door, but the doorman caught her elbow in his arm. “Mrs. Sheehan? Mrs. Bianconi wants you to come into the back. She has something for you.”

When Patience arrived in the back of the dressing rooms, a valet was waiting with a pearl-pink dress. “Mrs. Bianconi wants you to wear this,” he said.

Left alone, she marveled at the make of it. The waist was tight, outlining her slim hips, and the bodice was lined with white ruffles. It was cut in layers of puffy skirts to fall just below her ankles, and although the sleeves were long, the top was scooped out to reveal her pale shoulders.

It was very generous to her figure. All Patience could think was that Leona had studied her very carefully when she had modeled, and produced something made perfectly to fit her. It made her look beautiful. She could have kissed the woman.

She was escorted to main reception area, where a line of guests were still waiting, and then to the main building. The arches and domes spiraled above her, and the orchestra, the guests’ chatter and the clink of glasses echoed in her ears.

Patience felt small. People were turning their heads to look at her. She had thought that she would enjoy it, but now that she was being stared at… she didn’t like it at all. She lifted the hem of her dress and hurried through the vast room, looking for a telltale blonde flash of curls.

Finally she spotted Leona—wearing a backless black dress with a hem that spilled onto the floor. The older woman had her back to her and was talking to two men.

“Leona?” called Patience tentatively, and she turned. Leona had done her hair half combed across her head, the other half curled delicately to brush her collarbone. Her dress dipped down in front to her waist, just stopping short of her navel. With her dress, her vivid blue eyeshadow and her matching nails, she looked like a dark Marilyn Monroe.

As she spotted Patience, her face lit up. “Dolcezza! Come here, my darling! Let me introduce you.”

The first man was tall, with a bored sort of gaze, dark brown hair and unshaven stubble on his chin. He looked out-of-place, like he should be drinking in a dingy bar instead of mingling with socialites at a high-class reception. The other was shorter and more well-groomed, with thick black hair and a pair of glasses perched don his nose. He stared at Patience with naked dislike. “This is the woman you’ve been talking about?” he said.

”Yes.” Leona leaned forward and kissed Patience. “She’s wearing one of my new designs. Doesn’t she look amazing?”

The brown-haired man nodded approvingly, but the black-haired man’s lip curled. “These are my friends Giuseppe Benevento and Stefano Rizzo,” said Leona.

More Italians, huh? Patience shook hands with both of them, but Stefano dropped her hand quickly. “It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Sheehan,” said Giuseppe.

“Champagne?” offered a passing waiter.

“Patience, there are so many people I must introduce you to! Excuse me, is that you, Albert darling?”

Leona led her around the room, introducing her to her “friends”, some of whose names she had seen in the newspaper. They all seemed to be of Italian descent, save for a Mr. Sawyer, who had made a snide quip about Patience’s bust (or lack of it). Daddy had always warned her to stay away from Italians, he said they were all in the mafia. She didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but she was wondering how a union job netted Mr. Bianconi such a fabulous house…

“Le-oh-na,” said a heavy, sarcastic voice from behind them. “Seems like your little fashion show is netting you some returns.”

Leona blinked once, twice, and then her face settled into a placid mask. She turned around and smiled. “Salvatore! Come here, you!”

Leona embraced the man tightly and kissed him. He was a lean, black-haired man with pale skin and long, dark eyelashes. His lips were colorless, pulled in a smile, and his face was pitted and rough. “Nice of you to invite me. I don’t know shit about fashion but I’m enjoying the booze.”

Patience hated him instantaneously. The way he lazily looked Leona up and down, like she was a piece of meat, and then turned his gaze on Patience, made her shiver.

“And you are?”

“Patience Sheehan. Good to meet you, um, Salvatore…”

“Salvatore Mallozzi,” the man said, and stepped forward to embrace her. He smelled of wine and gunpowder. “You’re a cute little thing.” He copped a feel of her ass when he pulled away.

“I thought about not inviting you, but I was inviting everyone else, and I didn’t want you to feel left out,” Leona said sweetly. Salvatore gave her a brief sneer. “I’m enjoying the hell out of it. Some nice-lookin’ women here. They look like they know how to fuck.”

Patience looked at Leona. She still had her eyes on Salvatore, smiling elegantly. “You would know, wouldn’t you, Salvatore darling.”

“Yeah. I bet both of us would know.” His voice dropped. “You little slut.”

Salvatore leaned forward to slide a hand down Leona’s neck and to the top of her shoulder, lingering on the top of one plump breast. Patience felt fury surge to the back of her tongue. “I’ll see you around,” he said.

He turned and began to walk off, and Patience, out of her mind with anger, strode forward. “Hey, you!”

“Wh—“

Just as he turned around, Patience threw her glass of champagne on him. It soaked into his dinner jacket, turning the white a sickly yellow. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he hissed, grabbing her shoulder hard enough to bruise. He shoved her forward, his face a mask of rage.

“Leona is an amazing woman,” Patience hissed. “She’s kind and generous and beautiful. Don’t you dare insult her that way.”

People were staring. “Pazienza, come here. Patience.” Leona’s voice had a note of warning. “I’ll be seeing you, Salvatore.”

Salvatore snorted and turned away, though he was still eying Patience with disdain. “You really don’t know Leona that well, do you?” he growled.

Leona’s grip was tight on Patience’s arm as she led her away.

“I’m sorry,” Patience burst out to her when they got a good distance away. What she had done was catching up to her, and she was beginning to feel threads of embarrassment tighten her body “That was stupid of me. I always make decision without thinking. I—“

“No,” said Leona, and put a finger to her lips. There was a secretive smile on her face. “Thank you. Thank you so much. You were noble for me. I won’t forget this.”

Patience loved the way she was looking at her. Like they were sharing a secret. She embraced her.

“I’d do it for you any day,” she told Leona in a fit of pique.

***

The party was winding down but Leona and Patience were getting drunker and drunker together. Well, Patience was getting drunk, but Leona’d had only had two glasses of champagne and was sharp as ever. People were filtering out, the catwalk had been closed, and the lights were dimming.

Patience didn’t want to go home. She wanted to stay here forever and gossip and laugh with Leona. But she knew that Michael would want her back, so she reluctantly pulled away. “I have to be getting back. My husband is probably worrying about me.”

Leona’s lip curled when she heard the word husband. “Who cares about what he thinks? Every girl deserves to have a night out once in a while.”

They were drifting toward the exit, arm in arm. People were stopping on their way out to congratulate Leona on her fashion exhibition and Patience on her dress. “Let’s go to my house,” said Leona.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly—“

“Tommy is out tonight. It’ll just be us, alone. We can take a dip in the pool, the two of us. Or we can watch something on television, have a little dinner…”

The more Leona spoke the more alluring it sounded. “O-okay. Maybe just this once.” After all, Michael had told her to have the time of her life.

They took the limo to her house on the other side of Garland, and when they got there, it was indeed dark and quiet. “No maids or butlers?” asked Patience as Leona unlocked the gate. The gargoyles glared down, their stone wings spread and their eyes boring into them.

“No. I don’t like it when people nose through my personal business. It’s just a preference.”

“You must have a lot of cleaning to do,” joked Patience.

Leona smiled, and for a moment, the slat of shadow from the gate cast her features into darkness. The only visible part of her face was her smile, and it twitched at the edges, as if pulled by a puppet’s strings. “I do.”

They walked into the house hand-in-hand. Leona stripped her dress off as soon as they got inside, and Patience nearly panicked. “What are you doing?”

She winked. “Going for a swim.”

Leona dived into the indoor pool, a clear blue lake surrounded by stone walls. Underneath, a mosaic pattern on the floor glowed through the pale water.

“Come on,” Leona called. “Come and join me!”

Alcohol was making her reservations dissipate. She stripped off her pink dress and dipped a toe in the water. It was chilly, but as she drew it out, Leona gripped her ankle and pulled her in.

The shock of cold water made her clutch the other woman tight as they floated in the pool. “Don’t you know how to swim?” Leona’s warm breath tickled her ear. “My little nymph?”

“I’m from Massachusetts,” Patience huffed. “Of course I do, I’ve spent my whole childhood swimming in ponds and dodging cottonmouths.” Her tiptoes didn’t reach the bottom, but she gave a leap in the water and paddled in place. She mischievously splashed Leona.

Leona splashed her back. Patience laughed and smoothed her wet hair to the sides of her face.

Leona was looking closely at her, her blue eyes dark and unreadable in the middle of her face. “Your eyes are so beautiful,” she whispered, her voice intimate. “Green as leaves. They remind me of someone… very… special.”

”Who?” teased Patience, swimming away from her. “Who do I remind you of? I hope I don’t remind you of your boyfriend.”

Leona smiled, but did not answer. Patience held her breath and dove down into the water, then seized her leg to pull her down as well.

When they were done laughing and chasing each other and diving in the deep pool, Leona stood up and shook her hair out, like a lion’s mane. “I’m ravenous. Would you like some dinner?”

Patience sat on the edge of the pool and wrung out her hair. “Boy, would I!”

Leona walked to the door, and the shards of the waves reflected off her skin, the swell of her breasts, the curve of her buttocks, the tips of her damp hair hanging to the small of her back. The light glimmered off her regal face, her high cheekbones and long, elegant nose. How could she be so perfect? How could someone so perfect want Patience as a friend?

Dressed in bathrobes, they made spaghetti together in the kitchen, Leona teaching Patience which herbs to use and how to stir the tomato sauce. They ate at the long, polished banquet table, side by side, and Patience hungrily devoured what had to be the tastiest spaghetti she’d ever had, even tastier than the corner restaurant she occasionally went to when she didn’t feel like making dinner.

Soon, Patience’s eyelids drooped. “I need to be getting back home,” she said.

“Nonsense,” Leona purred. “You’re far too drunk to be driving home. Come upstairs and you can sleep in my bedroom.”

If Patience had been a bit more lucid, she would have realized she hadn’t even driven there in the first place. But her gaze was spinning and sleep was overtaking her. “Okay.”

They took the tall, winding wooden stairs, Patience’s hand securely held in Leona’s, and Patience was coherent enough slightly bothered by the fact that Leona pulled her into her personal room. “Don’t you have a guest bedroom?”

“What’s wrong with sharing my bed? We’re both women. We can talk to each other all night and share stories, like real friends do.”

Patience was so tired she doubted she could share half a story. “All right...”

Leona dressed in a nightgown, but Patience was so tired she simply pulled off her bathrobe and flopped into bed. She barely remembered Leona lying down beside her. She was so drunk she immediately drifted into sleep.

***

Michael was between her legs, licking her with long, slow laves. Every corner of her body was alive with electricity as he pleasured her.

Every breath against her clit and every touch against her swollen lips sent her to heaven. She had never felt this much pleasure in her life, not even when she worked her own hand between her legs.

Patience arched her back, gasped, wrapped her legs around his head. He sucked on her small, tight nub of flesh, teasing it with the tip of his tongue, his murmured words of love vibrating against her mound of venus.

Her throat spasmed, sweat running down her forehead as she gripped his hair with her trembling hands. Her hot, love-slickened thighs quivered as he brought her to an overwhelming climax, and when she looked down through fevered eyes, his blue eyes stared back up at her, crinkled at the edges in delight at having made her that way.

Except…

Except Michael didn’t have blue eyes.

He had gray eyes.

Not eyes as deep and endless as the night sky, dark and beautiful and hungry.

Patience woke up with a jolt.

She screamed and kicked her away. Leona’s head snapped back. Patience, legs spread and wetness trickling from between her thighs, gripped for her bathrobe and pulled it on.

“What did you do?” she screamed. “What did you do to me? Are you a dyke? Why did you that? I thought you were my friend! And now you’re doing this disgusting, unholy thing to me!” The betrayal made tears come to her eyes “It’s against the bible! It’s repulsive!”

Leona was sitting on the bed, hands pressing into the mattress, as Patience tied her cord around her waist. “Patience,” she said, seeming so calm, like she always did. She tucked a golden curl behind her ear and buttoned her nightgown, which was whorishly gaping at the center. “There’s nothing unholy about a woman pleasuring another woman. The bible says it’s a sin for man to lie with man. But does it say anything about women?”

It gave her pause, just a little bit, but her fury and betrayal was enough to eclipse that. “I know what you were trying to do. You’re nothing better than those fags who go suck each other’s cocks in dirty bars. You’re a married woman. And I am, too. You should go cut your hair short and eat pussy in some back alley!

Patience was furious, she knew, spewing hateful words, but her climax had still not faded from the corners of her body and she was trembling with hypersensitivity. She was trying not to cry. “I trusted you! I thought you were my friend!”

“I am your friend, Patience. I’m the only friend you have in the world.” Leona slowly stood up. “Tell me,” said Leona quietly. “Did your husband ever give you half as much pleasure as I have?”

Patience stopped, hand on the doorknob. She wanted to leave this house—and Leona— forever, but instead, her eyes were fixed on Leona’s hypnotic blue irises.

“Tell me,” Leona whispered, “Did you ever moan and arch your back like that when your husband stuck his cock into you?”

Patience’s throat was tight, and although words worked to get out, they never did. Leona was right in front of her, her golden hair lit in back by the lamp. She seemed to be made of fleece, from her soft skin to her long, curling hair.

“Patience,” she said huskily. “Pazienza. Who needs a husband when women can have each other? There is nothing wrong with two friends sharing pleasure as well as friendship. Has your husband shared half of what we have between us? Does your romance even compare?”

It didn’t, but she didn’t want to admit that. Michael was domesticity, familiarity, comfort. Leona was passion, pleasure, and whirlwind. There was no comparing them.

Patience let herself be led over to the bed. “I love you, Patience. As a friend, I love you beyond compare. I want to bring you the greatest pleasure that I can. Do you love me, Patience?”

“I do,” she said, still crying, remembering chasing the waves with her at the carnival, remembering how Leona had comforted and enfolded her in her arms when she was upset. “I love you. You’re still my friend, aren’t you? Aren’t you?”

If Patience had been on her guard, she would have seen the slow, creeping darkness in Leona’s eyes. “I am your friend, forever and always, Pazienza.”

Leona was Aphrodite with long, golden cascades of tresses falling past her waist. Her porcelain face was of a Roman statue, a goddess of love with serene features and a half-smile. Her beauty was ethereal, her nightgown a toga half-draped from her shoulder. She was a goddess. A goddess in human form.

Leona slowly licked a long line from between Patience’s legs to between her breasts, keeping her eyes on her all the while. Patience’s breath shorted out as her tongue traveled up her soft, sensitive skin until it brushed her chin.

The blonde woman kissed her long and deep. The texture of her mouth, the smell of her perfume, her nails curling against her cheek, it all made Patience sink deep into a pleasure she never wanted to emerge from.

Leona pulled her down onto the bed. The tall blonde woman lifted her head once, between her legs, and her lips were in a wicked smile, and her eyes were somewhere in the fires of hell. “Mia mignotta.”

She gave Patience a slow lick, and her back arched into the heavens.

#bonus chapter #genderswap #femslash

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