Part 20 (1/2)

Cat made a little purring noise. ”Now that sounds heavenly.”

A half-hour later they shared sips from a paper cup after they'd eased their sore bodies into the hot tub. Jessica closed her eyes and let the bubbles at her feet soothe her.

”We were on Lesbos,” Cat said again.

In her mind's eye Jessica could picture the time-worn temple and other landmarks of the island's history. Though there was nothing overtly welcoming to lesbian pilgrims, she had no trouble envisioning acolytes in gossamer gowns carrying laurel-scented water to wash the feet of the poetess.

Her reverie was interrupted by the noisy arrival of two young women she recalled from the tour. They plopped in the water and sighed with relief.

”I'm whacked,” one said.

”Totally. I'm still disappointed, though. All that dust and ruin and that's what we're all called? Because somebody wrote some poems?”

The other woman fiddled with the spa jets. ”Poetry is dead.”

Jessica gave Cat a sidelong glance and then looked away with a deep breath.

”Actually...” Cat paused to casually sip again from the paper cup. ”Poetry's immortality is what allowed our foremothers to adapt the island's name to describe a society of women for women. Had not Sappho's verse survived, there's no telling what we'd be calling ourselves, and we might still be searching for a collective ident.i.ty that allows us to bond and struggle for the advancement of our rights. Without the word lesbian we'd not be on this cruise, or it would be called something else.”

The two women were looking at Cat as if she were speaking Greek, which might not be far from the truth. Jessica wiggled her toes in the bubbles and watched her beloved through her lashes.

”If you think about it, the words we use to describe our gender describe not what we are, but what we are not. Female. Woman. Not male, not man. In contrast, lesbian is an a.s.sertive word that states what we are in relation to ourselves and no other construct. Sappho's work, and that of her contemporaries that survives, indicates that her academy was likely only for women. Certainly, in our modern age, we want to romanticize this as an act of feminist rebellion when she was a member of a family that was overall persecuted into exile. She chose to eschew the power of men thereafter, probably because it was one of them that brought the wrath of the rulers down on her. Societies run by women had nearly disappeared by Sappho's time. We look back at her academy and see it as a continuation of the line of matriarchy. A bright moment in the long, dark fall of women from their place of respect as givers of life.”

The poor young things were deer caught in Cat's headlights. That they were ignorant wasn't their fault-they obviously hadn't had Cat for a mother.

”I expected something more,” one of them muttered. ”That's all I meant. Everybody goes on and on about her poetry.”

”So little has survived, it's true. But it has inspired our lives. 'For while I gazed, in transport tossed, my breath was gone, my voice was lost, my bosom glowed-'”

”Sounds like she'd had a very good time at some point,” Jessica said drolly.

Cat splashed her with water. ”Hush, you.”

The other young thing c.o.c.ked her head to one side. ”That sounds familiar. The voice lost and bosom glowed part.”

”Those lines were used in one of the songs Marcy Chastain did Sunday night. She obviously found them inspirational.”

”Marcy's so hot,” the other said with a sigh.

They slipped into conversation between them after that, and Jessica stole a glance at Cat, who was basking in the hot water while a satisfied smile played around her lips. Leaning over, she said, ”I'm going to tell Herine you used her honor's thesis to scold two baby d.y.k.es in the hot tub.”

Cat snorted. ”Think they want to hear about how much of dead poetry is in the song lyrics they enjoy every day?”

Given that the two girls were now making out, Jessica shook her head. ”They have a few good ideas, though.”

Cat gave her an amused glance. ”I'm all relaxed now, what about you?”

Jessica drained the cup of the last of the port. ”I'm dandy.”

Cat was stripping off her swimsuit as Jessica sidled up behind her to nuzzle her neck.

”Wanna be a little late to dinner?”

”Is that what you have in mind?” Cat wrapped Jessica's arms around her waist. They still fit together exceedingly well.

”Port... warmth... thoughts of licentious acolytes and glowing bosoms.”

”And you an old lady.”

”Dirty old lady.”

Cat turned in her arms and lifted her mouth. ”Thank goodness, because I'm one too.”

The days of romping across the bed in abandon had been over from the moment Jessica had first slipped a disk, and other delights were curtailed because Cat's knees protested forty-five degree or sharper angles. They'd always been au naturel when it came to lovemaking, but sensible crones, as Cat called them, made use of modern science.

They slid between the cool, dry sheets as Jessica retrieved the slender bottle of personal lubricant from the bedside table. ”I love this stuff.”

Cat grinned. ”So do I. When I'm in the mood I do like to be wet.”

”And when you're wet...” Jessica gently spread the lube over Cat with sure fingers. ”You're in the mood.”

”I should insure your hands.”

Jessica kissed the lips curved in a fond smile, then pressed more firmly with her fingertips. Cat's response was quite gratifying. A few whispered words and they were moving together, sweet and easy, not forcing the tide, but letting it rise to wash over them. The motion of the s.h.i.+p lulled them into a soft pace, and kisses were long and languid until they were panting more than they were kissing.

”Touching you like this is my very favorite thing,” Jessica whispered.

Cat's s.h.i.+vers were so familiar to Jessica. ”I'm glad, because if it wasn't, you should have said so before this.”

She pulled Jessica down for a wet, deep kiss, and delightful muscles gripped at Jessica's fingers until Cat gasped for breath and made that wonderful sound. Jessica went in a little deeper, drawing out every bit of response she could.

Cat relaxed and laughed. ”G.o.d, that's fun.”

”Well, if it wasn't you should have said so before this.”

”Foo.”

”Is that the best you can do? Got no brains at the moment?”

”Foo.”

”There's supposed to be chocolate at dinner.”

Cat abruptly wiggled and pushed until Jessica found herself on her back. ”We'll get there, but there's something else I'd rather eat first.”

Jessica grinned. ”Do you have a reservation?”

Cat quickly slipped her hips between Jessica's thighs, then deftly tickled the sensitive patch along her underarm. While Jessica struggled and laughed, Cat continued her downward journey until the laughter faded and there was only the intimate exploration of Cat's tongue where Jessica never tired of feeling it. Today would be one of those times when she didn't climax, but the soothing, relaxing pleasure of Cat's attention left her feeling a glow that would last for hours. It was a different kind of s.e.x for her and as meaningful to her at this age as other kinds had been when she was younger.

There was a moment she reached when it felt as if Cat had filled her to overflowing and she could take no more. It didn't matter that certain muscles no longer spasmed as easily, not when she reveled in the heat of Cat's mouth, feeling the wonder of it in all the places only Cat had ever reached. She laughed, low, and stopped Cat with a soft gesture. They smiled over the length of Jessica's body. ”Better than a hot tub.”