Waterloo

A week later, Therese left for France to be the guest lecturer on Impressionism and on its central figure Claude Monet in particular. She took a train from Saint-Lazare station in Paris to the picturesque city of Vernon in Normandy. 45 minutes later she found herself at her destination curious to see where the famous painter had resided for over 40 years. Therese had declined the kind offer of a chauffeur since she wanted to make the journey on her own terms, not worrying about other people’s timetables.

Therese even chose to walk to the village of Giverny where Claude Monet’s house and gardens were situated. The weather being exceptionally sunny, she knew she had made the right decision. A five kilometer walk is nothing, she thought crossing the bridge over Seine and catching the “Route de Giverny”. The tracks of an ancient railroad provided an easy, flat surface to step upon.

What awaited Therese took her breath away. Claude Monet’s home, the House of The Cider-Press, was an impressive sight not only because of its considerable length. The artist himself had instructed it to be painted adorably pink with dark green shutters. With roses climbing on its pergola, the Virginia creeper covered house blended perfectly in with the surrounding gardens.

Not wanting to break the spell of her wonder by speaking with anyone just yet, she took a peek into the Clos Normand, the flower garden in front of the building. Therese loved it instantly for its playfulness and sunny delight. It was a garden full of perspectives, symmetries and colors, which the master himself had mapped out in marvelous detail. The simple mixed with the exquisite: daisies and poppies intermingled freely with the rarest flower varieties imaginable.

The water garden would have to wait, though, she realized noticing the time. Therese went inside to meet the organizers. She had arrived and she was ready to give her presentation.

Therese was to give her speech to students who had gathered out on the lawn. She exchanged a few quick words with the curator of the Musée d'Art Américain. After a quick introduction, she took her place in front of her audience. 

“When you go out to paint, try to forget what objects you have before you, a tree, a house, a field or whatever, Claude Monet used to say,” Therese started confidently, “merely think here is a little square of blue, an oblong of pink, here a streak of yellow, and paint it just as it looks to you, the exact color, shape, until it gives you your own naïve impression of the scene before you.”

She went on to explain how never before Monet had a painter so freely re-imagined his natural subjects before painting them on canvas. How the realistic appearance of flowers and trees became less and less important in the grand scheme of his vision. “It is in the reflections in water clouded by mist and other transparencies, he found a wondrous, inverted world transfigured by the liquid element,” she pointed out.

“If you squint your eyes and look at the lily pond over there, you might actually see what Claude Monet saw losing his eyesight due to cataract. One could almost claim the effect it had on him meant he was actually being as realistic as he could at the time,” she smiled. “Monet tried to capture a moment as if wanting to say that all moments contain the absolute truth and with it the harmony of colors.”

Suddenly she paused for a moment not quite sure what had caused it… “Water lilies or nymphaeas are strange creatures, lotus flowers which rise out of water and open during the day or at night. Lotus has had many meanings in various cultures, and I’m sure Claude Monet found their curious nature the very reason he painted them for over twenty years. Among many things, lotus symbolizes rebirth, spiritual awakening and faithfulness. And one cannot but think of its act of breaking the surface each morning as suggestive of desire.” Again she felt it – something behind her, getting closer but remaining invisible for now. 

The presentation was such a success Therese hoped Abby would have been there to hear her. Now her boss would have to rely on second-hand estimates of her performance. She stayed on to chat with the students whom she found both bright and eager to learn more. It wasn’t after all such a long time since she herself had been one of them.

The uneasy feeling she had experienced during her speech hadn’t quite disappeared but as far as she could see, there was no apparent reason for it. Maybe it was the nerves, she thought listening to the curator go on and on about her brilliant delivery. “Thank you, merci beaucoup… yes, I’ll be heading back to Paris after I’ve seen the grounds,” she told the French woman. “Oh the house is lovely… I did have time to see it properly… yes, the blue sitting room, so stunning…” she was growing impatient with her rambling.

After an excruciatingly long while Therese finally bid her farewells and headed towards the water garden. It was the one place she still wanted to see before getting back to the railway station. She had to go through an underground passage to reach the hidden recesses of its Japanese influenced splendors.

She stopped. There it was on the Japanese bridge – the source of her uneasy feeling. Her heart beating wildly, Therese stared at Carol who was drinking in the beauty of the landscape. Flushed, she didn’t know what to do or say or even feel at the moment. Realizing she was again in France with Carol, Therese felt a tinge of resentment pushing through. With Carol? she asked herself. No, I don’t think so.

Before she could make up her mind, before deciding anything for herself, Carol saw her standing on the pathway. “Are you angry with me, Therese?” she asked noticing her sullen stare. “No, how could I be angry with you?” Therese replied sarcastically. Her tone of voice went by unnoticed. “But you have been, haven’t you?” Therese bowed her head and swallowed. “Why are you here?” she asked instead. “And don’t tell me you thought this would be just the kind of thing that would give you pleasure.”

Carol walked over to her smiling apologetically. “Well, to be honest, it kind of is,” she replied, “to listen to you speak and to see you…” I’m going to kill Abby. Her mind racing, Therese glared at her unabashedly. “Now you’ve listened to me and seen me. Are you done?” she demanded to know. “I need to catch the train back to Paris and it leaves within an hour.”

Carol looked at her very gravely. “I was hoping we could have dinner tonight – or a drink?” Her voice was unsteady. “I’m supposed to have dinner with the museum representatives tonight,” Therese answered bluntly. “I won’t have time.” She could feel another emotion springing up, something devastating but yet undefined which nevertheless stung her eyes like tears. 

She declined Carol’s offer to drive her to the station. M. Lefebvre was already waiting for her to do so. “Well, that’s that,” Carol concluded her voice hardly louder than a whisper. “I hope you have a wonderful evening, you’ve certainly deserved it.” Quickly averting her eyes, she took her purse and crossed the arched bridge without looking back.     

Pouting her lips, Therese returned to the Monet house to meet M. Lefebvre. She ruined this for me, she thought bitterly and sat on the backseat of the car ready to speed away. Why did she have to ruin this as well? The question kept spinning inside her head all the way back to Paris which suddenly seemed cold and uncaring even though her hosts had made their utmost best to make her feel comfortable. 

Therese was staying at the elegant Les Jardins du Marais hotel on rue Amelot. It wasn’t as fancy as the place Carol had picked for them for their disastrous trip but she had absolutely no complaints whatsoever. Even if Pavillon De La Reine had offered her their most luxurious suite for free, she wouldn’t have set her foot inside that hotel anymore.

“Pardon, Madame…” The concierge was waving at her when she was about to enter the elevator. “There is a message for you, Madame.” He handed out an envelope with her name on it. Therese took the letter and got up to her room. She needed a shower before wrapping her head around what had just happened and what was expected of her at the formal dinner.

Wearing a bathrobe and her hair all wet, she finally took the letter and opened it.

Dearest Therese,

You gave me your answer. This is mine.

Should you change your mind, I’d love to have dinner with you.

8 PM: Le Cinq (Four Seasons Hotel George V) 31, avenue George V

I understand if you cannot.

Carol

Therese read the note again and again. You gave me your answer. Yes, she bloody hell did. But why did she send me this after she had already said no, that she wouldn’t be able to make it even if she wanted to? And she didn’t, oh no. And what kind of an answer was this anyway? A dinner? Abby, you’re a snake for giving her the name of my hotel…

You gave me your answer… what answer was Carol referring to? The one she had spat out this afternoon or the one she had given almost as a joke at Southbank? What on earth had possessed her to do so in the first place? Why did she find it so damn important to inform her of her singlehood? Without mindlessly shooting her mouth off she could be having the time of her life right now, here alone in Paris. Alone in Paris...

Therese didn’t want to think about it. She absolutely refused to dwell on it. She was going to the museum dinner and that was final. It was 6 PM already so she had to hurry along if she were to make it to St. Germain by 7.45.

At 7.30 she stepped into a taxi knowing she would be late for her dinner engagement. She had the name and the address of the restaurant located on rue du Cherche Midi written on a piece of paper to hand out to the driver. Just as she was about to do so, Therese heard herself say: “31, avenue George V, s’il-vous-plaît…” She sank back on the backseat and threw the slip of paper away. I am a mad woman with a serious death wish.

--

Therese spent the rest of the ride profusely apologizing for her sudden inability to join her intended engagement. No, I’d rather go and be humiliated for the third time by the same woman than sit down with you perfectly nice and decent people for a hearty meal after a long day, she wanted to say instead.

When the taxi pulled over at the Four Seasons hotel, she almost regretted her decision. At the same time she knew nothing or no one could prevent her from marching through the plush, opulent entrance to meet Carol’s inimitable gray gaze again.

“Excusez-moi, Madame, vous avez une reservation?” The maître d’ tried to stop her but she stormed in nevertheless. “I’m looking for someone…” she quipped moving determinedly forward. Therese looked around eagerly and when she spotted Carol sitting at a small corner table all by herself, something in her softened, even melt a little, against her will. The familiar running of her fingers through the hair, the chiseled cheekbones, the delicate curve of her chin, and then, the gray eyes which lit up in thousand little flames the moment she saw Therese standing in front of her.

“I didn’t think you would come,” Carol said. Her voice was soft, velvety. “Well, don’t read too much into it. I decided I’d rather come here than spend my evening with some old bores,” Therese answered matter-of-factly. “I’m glad you don’t find me an old bore,” Carol laughed. “I can think of many adjectives to describe you but boring is not one of them,” Therese retorted dryly. “Being with you is the least boring thing I can think of”, she continued and even though she meant it as a slight, the way she said it made it sound beautiful and touching. It also seemed to throw Carol off balance.

“Let’s eat,” Therese decided avoiding her gaze, “I’m starving.” Carol glanced at the menu. “Would you like an ‘Epicurean Escape’ or shall we order à la carte?” she asked Therese. The waiter brought a bottle of champagne to their table and filled their glasses. “Whatever is good,” she replied hearing her stomach growl at the mere mention of food. “We’ll start with the black truffles, then the lobster… the cheese plate and, well, we’ll think about the dessert once we get there,” Carol informed the waiter.

“I owe you an apology, I know that. I acted foolishly and left you on your own,” Carol started her voice wavering noticeably. “Can you forgive me?” The question hung over Therese like the sword of Damocles ready to split her in half. She refrained from answering. “You must understand why I did what I had to do,” Carol continued patiently. “I know why you did it,” Therese interrupted harshly. “It’s okay, we don’t need to talk about it.”

She was angry even though she knew Carol’s reasons very well. Something about Paris still evoked the painful memory despite her understanding, despite her coming to terms with it in London. Being so close to Carol was hard as well, she realized, after all these months of thinking about her, how she was and why she had kept away from the museum.  

“You missed the last days of the Rothko Room,” she said quietly aware of a sudden lump in her throat. “I know. I’m sorry.” Carol looked genuinely grieved. Therese was about to say something when the waiter returned with their entrees.

“You were simply brilliant today,” Carol complimented changing the subject. “The audience was eating right out of your hand.” Therese smiled shyly grateful for the shift in their conversation. “Thank you. I thought it went pretty well.” Her hand rested on the table quite close to Carol’s elegant fingers. The memory of them sliding behind her neck, bending her to a kiss sweeter than any she had ever tasted made her insides quiver irrepressibly.

Therese felt her anger subside with each kind word and gesture Carol showered her with, and by the time they were to order dessert, something indefinable had taken its place. She felt relieved, outright cheerful, and when Carol laughed, it was only natural for her to join in. It’s so easy to laugh with you, she thought watching her closely, listening to her vivid portrayal of Rindy, the precocious ten-year-old on the verge of adolescence.

“How about we skip dessert altogether?” Carol said abruptly as if she’d had enough all of a sudden. But it’s still early, Therese wanted to protest. Crushed by unexpected disappointment she was unable to say a word. “Unless you absolutely want some?” Carol rushed to add. “I was just thinking we could have a nightcap in my room instead. It’s getting awfully noisy in here and I think I spotted a decent bottle of Chardonnay in the minibar.” Therese froze for a second afraid to meet her gaze. “You have a room here?” she asked hardly recognizing her own, strained voice. “Yes.” Carol averted her eyes. “I mean we don’t have to if you don’t want to, we can have dessert and wine here as well or even at the lobby bar, whichever you prefer…” She sounded nervous. “No, it’s fine. Chardonnay sounds dandy.” Dandy?

They left the dining room quietly Therese following Carol’s lead. Neither one dared to look at one another. Once they reached the top floor Therese got the funny feeling she had been in the same situation twice before. This is like a déjà-vu, or what was that movie again – Groundhog Day, she thought walking two steps behind Carol. I am doomed to meet the same moment again and again and then to be flung out of her space to the world before and without her.

Carol opened the door and when Therese passed her by she caught a trace of her perfume like a too strong a shot of absinthe. Suddenly she was again the liquor-soaked cube of sugar, willing to be set ablaze and to burn in splendid green flame.

They sat on the opposite sides of the room, Carol in an armchair, Therese on the side of the bed. The suite was lovely, Therese thought sipping her drink. Being there did however make her terribly self-conscious.

“So, am I spared of your more savory topics tonight?” Therese asked gutsily. She was having a hard time adjusting to the sudden silences descending upon them every so often. “And which topics might you be referring to, may I ask?” Carol inquired curiously. “The physiological effects of intimacy, and what was it again – the chemical bath?” To look at Carol while saying it took every drop of courage Therese possessed but she managed to do it anyway.

Carol seemed slightly embarrassed at first but only for a second. “Well…” she started slowly stretching her words like a cat flexes her paws, “I think there comes a time when one should just stop talking about it.” She stared intently at Therese ready to throw all her caution to the wind. “And what happens then?” Therese responded as intensely as she possibly could.       

Carol rose to her feet and, quite simply, walked over to Therese and kissed her. It was a soft, almost demure kiss to test her lips – to pose a question, really – to find out if what she wanted was what Therese wanted as well. Breaking the contact ever so slowly, Carol looked at Therese. “This happens.”

Maybe it was too bold of her to assume something could come out of the mess she’d made, too arrogant to expect anything after what she had done but she had to give it a try anyway… and while her mind still raced, Therese already conceded, touched her neck through the veil of her silken tresses and returned the kiss. “I like it.”

Therese pulled Carol closer wanting to kiss her more, to disarm her of any chance to retreat. She smiled against her mouth and the curved corners of her thirsty lips made Carol smile too. She tastes like rain, Therese thought, every sip of her overwhelming and relentless. Tracing the soft curve of her collarbone with the tips of her fingers, Therese parted her lips wider to receive what Carol was giving willingly. “I want to see you.” The sound of their rapt resuscitation grew lusty, almost loud. “I want you.”

Carol’s words echoing in her ears, she let herself be pushed against the soft mattress. The cool hands roving under her top, fastening on her hips as she crawled on top of Therese. The hurried opening of the shirt buttons, then getting rid of it altogether, Carol leaned in to kiss her pale, shivering sternum.

Feeling her nimble touch, her insistent mouth, Therese slid her hands along the sides of Carol’s body. She felt the weight of her curves apply heavenly pressure on her own slight frame, and it left her panting. I need you to show me just how much, Therese wanted to say but couldn’t. Carol took off Therese’s bra and rubbed her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers just for the pleasure to hear her groan.  

Finding her bearings between her thighs, Carol pulled Therese’s legs up and locked them behind her back. She lowered herself to kiss her bare throat, the warm, flushed skin revealed in its entirety. Therese felt a jolt of desire after every nip, dab and lick Carol’s mouth left at its wake.

They were still wearing far too much, Therese agonized, and in her frustration she yanked the waist of Carol’s skirt unnecessarily hard. Gray eyes darker every second, Carol looked at her approvingly and slipped out of the hindering garment. Sitting up, she did away with her bra letting Therese take her time to see what was now in front of her in full flesh.

Therese gasped at the pleasure of seeing her breasts so ready to roll right into her waiting mouth. Her lips suddenly parched she swallowed hard and cupped them with impatient, trembling hands. Finally free, Carol allowed Therese full access, the right to do whatever she pleased with them. Circling them with her swift tongue, Therese indulged herself with the pink, protruding nipples for a long while.

Shuddering more with every streak of Therese’s melting mouth, Carol’s breathing became agitated. It excited Therese tremendously to see her so worked-up, so utterly defenseless, it made her head spin. It was as if all her nerves were jam-packed into a single line, into one all-consuming passage from Carol’s response straight down to her groin.

Feeling yet another rush of warmth between her legs, a breathless whisper escaped her mouth to mingle with Carol’s increasing moans. ”Are you wet for me?” To answer her question Carol guided her hand to meet her slick which paralyzed Therese for a second. “Oh god..” she gulped finding her so drenched and swollen for the first time. Therese had to withdraw quickly if she were to do it at all – she didn’t want either of them to come just yet but knew better than to tempt fate.

And what would be the harm in that? A voice in her head asked. A voice too impatient to understand any postponement of instant gratification let alone the one with Carol straddling her. “Darling…” Carol whimpered unwilling to release Therese’s hand from her hot center, “Please…” but Therese had already made up her mind as she was determined to switch their positions. “Soon,” she promised letting Carol taste her own essence from her fingers. The sensation of her fingers in Carol’s mouth was almost too much.

On top of her now, Therese stripped the last particles of her clothing never losing eye contact for a second. She was returning the favor granted her just a moment ago. The nakedness of their joined bodies was a source of ceaseless wonder for her and she couldn’t help but take her time watching Carol writhe deliciously under her.

She felt utterly happy and she was acutely aware of the quality of this happiness as something she didn’t need to explain in any other form than sheer bliss. Everything else would follow, she was sure, but now this was all there was and rightly so.

Carol caressed her breasts coaxing a moan out of Therese. She smiled feeling the dampness of her young lover rub on her inner thigh and boldly bucked her hips to let her groin meet her mound. She could feel the urgency building in Therese though she was still resisting it. Carol knew her wish to prolong their lovemaking but she also chose to ignore it. She wanted Therese to come for her, to see how she looked crying out of pleasure and going slack with imminent release. She wanted to understand what made Therese insatiable and then perfectly sated. She would want to see it again and again, she knew.

Neither of them had to wait much longer. All the cognizant wishes, intentions and aspirations they earlier had vanished soon enough, drowned in the crescendo of their jerky movements, hands and thighs and lips and strands of hair becoming a fluctuating mess of their ever dizzying spiral. We will come at the same time, pulsated through Carol’s brain when she realized how very close they both were. No slowing the pace anymore, Therese knew tightening against Carol’s thrusting fingers and feeling the throbbing of Carol’s core against the well-lubed strokes of her frenzied palm.