Chapter 2

A moment later, a smiling Trish climbed out of the car again and walked around to the Ferrari’s passenger door.

“HI, I uh, I can’t believe I’m doing this, I mean, I don’t even know you,” Trish babbled as Anja screamed out of the parking lot.

“Katricia, do I, are you nervous?” Anja asked as she took a right onto Michner and pulled up to the parking garage behind 1 Alliance Square.

“No, no, it’s just, yes,” Trish stammered.

“Why? Why are you nervous?” Anja asked, pulling into a parking space.

She reached over and linked her fingers with Trish’s sweaty hand. Twisting in her seat, Anja looked into Trish’s wide eyes.

“It’s just me,” Anja said softly, leaning close to Trish.

“I, I never, I ain’t never been with a girl,” Trish blurted out.

“Oh,” Anja nodded in understanding.

She softly brushed Trish’s lips with a soft kiss. She backed away slightly and peered into Trish’s eyes.

“How long, how long have you had these feelings?” Anja asked, voice low and soft.

“God, for ’bout as long as I can remember,” Trish confessed. “And then you come in and…”

“We’re going to eat dinner; you’ll love Bombay. We’re going to eat. You’ve eaten before, right? And you’ve eaten with other girls, right?” Anja coached.

She gave Trish another kiss, just a soft lip to lip brush.

“Then we’ll take it from there,” Anja continued. “If you want to see my house, we’ll go to my house. If you just don’t feel up to it, I’ll run you back to your car.”

Anja kissed Trish again, holding the lip to lip contact a millisecond longer this time. She smiled softly and squeezed Trish’s hand.

Getting out of the low slung automobile, the two women walked to the garage’s elevator. Trish did jump a little when Anja reached over and grabbed her hand. She remembered, in grade school, in Junior High, she’d held hands with her friends. Trish wondered if any of those friends had known how those simple gestures had set her heart to pounding in her chest.

As if she could read Trish’s mind, Anja gave a soft smile and soft squeeze to Trish’s hand. They strolled toward the light.

In her four inch heels, Anja was slightly taller than Trish. She reasoned, if they were both in bare stockings, they would most likely be eye to eye.

“Just two friends, out on Valentine’s Day,” Anja coached as they scampered across Johnson Street when the light changed.

“Lamb, I’ve, you ever had lamb?” Trish asked, reading over the confusing menu.

“The lamb boona is my absolute favorite; a somewhat spicy dish,” Anja said, pointing to the description on Trish’s menu.

“And the lamb norween, oh no, no, cooked in yogurt,” Trish said.

Over their delicious meal, the two women talked. Anja learned very little about Trish, other than she was a native of Sweet Oak, Texas and had attended public schools until she dropped out at age sixteen.

“What can I say; I was young and dumb and thought I was in love with him,” Trish admitted.

“I, I don’t believe I’ve ever been in love,” Anja admitted.

“Until now,” Anja thought, looking into Trish’s eyes.

“Yeah well, minute the money ran out?” Trish shrugged. “Oh, oh my God, you, you have got to try this.”

“Anja nodded her approval as she did taste Trish’s Chicken Daniil. Trish made Anja laugh as she quickly gulped water after trying a forkful of Anja’s Lamb Boona.

Even as she talked, Trish did not tell Anja about recently becoming homeless. She did not tell Anja that she was living in her car, relatively safe and secure in the well-lighted parking lot of Oakleaf Towers.

Trish did not tell Anja about Jason, her boyfriend deciding he’d rather be with a coworker, Alicia Blanchette and insisting that Trish move out of their apartment. She didn’t tell Anja that the monthly payments on her 2020 automobile were bleeding her dry. She didn’t tell Anja she was ‘bathing’ in the employee restroom, eating only raw fruits and vegetables; she had no way of cooking anything in the employee break room.

After their meal, Anja again took Trish’s hand into hers. She wondered if there was a wet spot showing in the back of her skirt; simply watching the blonde beauty slowly eat a meal had set Anja’s heart to fluttering, had started Anja’s blood pumping.

“So, am I taking you to your car?” Anja asked as she roared out of the garage.

“You don’t take me to your place, I’m going chicken out,” Trish blurted.

“Anja did an illegal U-Turn on Michner and roared to Highway 72. Moments later, she pulled into her garage.

“Oh! I must, I need to get the ice cream into the freezer!” Anja realized and hurried to punch the code into her alarm.

“You, this is yours?” Trish asked, gaping at the 1955 pickup truck.

“Mm hmm,” Anja agreed, seeing Pho Dim’s Honda Odyssey in the third bay of the garage. “You’d be surprised what a dancer can make on a good night.”

“A what?” Trish asked, following Anja into the house.

“I’m a dancer,” Anja admitted, putting her Natural Peak Grocers cloth bags onto her granite countertop.

“I, you’re kidding,” Trish said, golden eyes wide.

“Nope,” Anja said, placing the gallon container of almond milk Cherry Vanilla ice milk into her freezer.

“I, you bought a whole gallon?” Trish asked, amused.

“I, well, I’d hoped you’d be by often; you did say it was your favorite,” Anja said, now combing her fingers through Trish’s waist length blight blonde hair.

They kissed softly, closed mouth to closed mouth. Gently, Anja maneuvered Trish against the granite countertop. She pressed her 34DD chest against Trish’s large breasts.

“I…mm,” Trish started, then moaned as Anja’s tongue entered her mouth.

Anja’s high heels gave Anja a bit of an advantage as she pressed Trish against the kitchen cabinets. Her hands went to Trish’s beautiful face and she gently touched Trish’s face, feather light strokes as she sucked on Trish’s tongue.

Pulling away, Anja held Trish’s face in her hands. She stared into Trish’s slightly dazed eyes for a long moment, then softly kissed Trish’s lips again.

With one more soft kiss to Trish’s lips, Anja stepped back and kicked her pumps into the corner of the large kitchen. She then pulled an apron from a drawer, put the apron on, and rapidly began assembling the ingredients for apple tarts.

“I changed my mind,” Anja said lightly as she began peeling the apples. “We’re having tarts instead of pie.”

“What? Why?” Trish giggled.

“Because, Katricia…” Anja said, smiling.

“Everyone calls me Trish,” Trish said.

“Everyone but your lover,” Anja said.

“Oh?” Trish teased. “You’re my lover, huh?”

“Oh yes,” Anja insisted, kissing Trish’s smiling lips.

“Now, why tarts instead of pie?” Trish asked.

“Because, tarts will make the perfect breakfast,” Anja said, beginning to carefully sift the stone ground flour into a large mixing bowl.

“I will wake you with kisses,” Anja purred, pausing in her mixing of dry ingredients to kiss Trish. “And then, after we make love? I will serve you breakfast in bed; do you want one or two tarts? For breakfast?”

“Depends on how big they are,” Trish gasped, breathless from Anja’s words and kisses and touches.

“Good point,” Anja said and began incorporating the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients.

Quickly, Anja punched the temperature setting into her oven. She paused long enough to stir the large pot of apple chunks then reduced the heat.

“And…” Anja said, rolling out the dough.

Trish watched as the woman cut twelve squares of dough. Anja spooned a generous helping of the warm apples onto each square then folded each square diagonally, creating a plump triangle.

“Now, what shall we do while these bake?” Anja asked, removing her apron.

In the living room, Anja put on some soft music and pulled Trish to sit on a plush leather couch. The leather was butter soft, the cushions soft and yielding. Trish sank into the soft furniture and turned to face Anja as the woman slid onto the couch next to her. They hugged, mashing their breasts together. Trish leaned toward Anja, opening her mouth.

“Mm, oh, Katricia,” Anja moaned as Trish’s hand came up and trailed over Anja’s pale face.

The laces of Anja’s corset top were loose; it took no effort for Trish to pull the cups down and expose Anja’s breasts. Anja shivered in pleasure as Trish’s fingernails raked over Anja’s breasts.

“Oh, I, um,” Trish moaned and trailed her lips along Anja’s throat.

“Mm, oh Katricia,” Anja moaned as Trish’s lips planted kisses along Anja’s left breast.

Anja thrust her nipple toward Trish’s mouth. Anja’s fingers worked on the buttons of Trish’s blouse, slowly, carefully unbuttoning the soft blue top.

“Mm, oh yes,” Trish moaned, suckling on Anja’s breast.

She reluctantly released Anja’s nipple as Anja removed Trish’s blouse. Anja trailed kisses from Trish’s lips to Trish’s throat as her fingers worked to unclasp Trish’s heavy bra.

“Thirty four double D,” Trish answered as Anja cupped each of Trish’s large breasts in her hands.

“Perfect,” Anja breathed and softly kissed Trish’s lips again. “Just…perfect.”

Trish sucked in her breath as Anja bent her head and took Trish’s left nipple into her mouth. She shuddered and moaned as she felt Anja’s soft tongue swiping the rubbery nub.

Anja felt her heart swell when she heard Trish’s soft gasp. Again, Anja felt her heart swell as her lips and tongue were able to coax a shudder and moan from the beautiful girl.

A soft chime sounded and Anja gave a soft nip at Trish’s nipple. Anja was reluctant to release her hold on Trish, but she was more reluctant to burn their apple tarts.

“Thank God I set that timer,” Anja giggled, getting to her feet.

“If I hadn’t, we surely would have burned the tarts,” Anja said as she strode into the kitchen.

Grabbing oven mitts, Anja opened the oven. A wave of heated air rushed her. Along with the hot air came the delicious smells of cinnamon and apples. Anja smiled in satisfaction; the tarts were a lovely shade of golden brown.

Anja debated with herself as she prepared two dessert plates; should she make a pot of decaf coffee? She wanted to give her guest the very best, fully serve her Katricia, but she didn’t want to be apart from Katricia for too long. Finally Anja decided she’d forego the coffee. There would be time for that in the morning.

Anja surveyed the mess in her kitchen. With a shrug, Anja reminded herself, messes in the kitchen were why she paid Pho Dim such a handsome wage. Most of the time, Pho Dim had very little to do. A mess every now and then was acceptable, should be acceptable.

A few moments later, just as Trish was preparing to get to her feet, Anja reappeared, carrying a tray.

“Here we are, my dear Katricia,” Anja said, setting the tray onto the edge of her coffee table.

Quickly, Anja set a small plate with one tart and one scoop of cherry vanilla ice milk melting onto the sides of the hot tart on the table. She set a linen napkin and small dessert fork and teaspoon onto the napkin. She then set a second plate, equally arranged with linen napkin and utensils.

“Mm, you know, I do believe the stone ground wheat? It really does add yet another layer of flavor to this,” Anja said, taking dainty bites of her dessert.

It was true; the coarse flour did add texture to the tart. There was an underlying nutty taste to the pastry.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Trish murmured, taking a bite of the very hot pastry.

“Mm? Oh! Oh yes, Happy Valentine’s Day, my dear, sweet Katricia,” Anja agreed and gave Trish’s right cheek a soft kiss.

After their dessert, Anja pulled an unresisting Trish up two flights of stairs to her third floor suite. In the brief moment from landing to bed, Trish marveled that Anja’s bedroom was easily as large as her mother’s single wide trailer had been.

Anja pushed Trish to sit on the edge of the large bed. With a flourish, Anja pulled the corset from her body, baring her large breasts, flat belly and dimple of a belly button. With just a wiggle of her hips, Anja sent the micro-miniskirt fluttering to the floor.