“Right. It’s different from being born into a business-oriented family, because you don’t necessarily have to go to school for that. You can be trained and then take over when it’s time.” She thought of Zara when she said that, not that Zara was going to join her family’s company anytime soon. She was the youngest of three. “Being a doctor or a lawyer requires a lot of studying and training… in an academic field. You need to be licensed. You need to apprentice for a long time. I had to do a residency. I was trained for that kind of life since I was born. It’s what my parents wanted.”
“You didn’t hate it, right?”
“Not really. It just wasn’t what I was meant to do with my life. I had realized my passion for drawing and painting in high school. I had to take a creative arts class as a requirement, and it was either painting or writing. They had metal and wood sculpting, too. I think most high schools call that shop class.”
“Music didn’t count?”
“No, because it was a separate requirement.” Sette continued with the original topic. “Anyway, I picked art because I always liked going to museums and appreciating my mother’s humble print collection. But it wasn’t until I had to actually do it myself that I discovered my real passion in life. I spent every spare moment – which wasn’t many – honing my craft and looking for more still-life projects. I loved interpreting the real world on canvas. I don’t care if it’s an object, a scene, or a person. I want toconvey them all in my own way. It’s the way I see the world, and I guess some people appreciate that.”
June twirled noodles on her fork. “I’m guessing your parents were not impressed.”
“My father ignored it until I retired from the med field. He didn’t care what I did in my spare time. My parents didn’t hate the arts. They just didn’t wantmedoing it.”
“I see.”
“We’ve been a bit estranged these past few years. Nothing family-breaking, but we don’t talk much. The funeral was the first time I talked to them since Christmas.”
“When you become a world-famous artist with my image, they’ll understand.”
Sette almost snorted her wine. “I hope to God they never see that!” Her super conservative father and dainty mother would collapse on the train tracks to discover what their daughter really painted.
“If they give you shit, tell them that you’ve seen plenty of pussy delivering babies. It was sort of your thing for a while. You even went to med school to do it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Was this the time to tell her that her father was a proctologist? “I guess, in a way, I am the sexuality doctor of the family. Wow. Almost makes me sound like a psychiatrist.”
“Dr. Christie,” June said with a fake and airy Southern accent. “Would you mind taking a look at my cootie-coo?” She fanned herself with her napkin. “I need to make sure it’s ready for the babies!”
So much for Sette not snorting her wine.
June helped clean up and do the dishes. She admitted she hadn’t done any dishes since moving to the Manoir, and found the whole thing quaint.Sure. That was the word Sette would use. She had grown up with servants in her family home, but sincemoving out on her own, she had a once-a-week cleaner, and that was it. She preferred to take care of her space by herself. Minus the bathroom, anyway.
Some days, she would rather leave the dishes for the housekeeper, but with June spinning around her kitchen, running China beneath the faucet, and loading glasses into the dishwasher, she didn’t mind doing the big chore tonight.
“Thanks for the help,” Sette said, leaning against the counter and drying her hands on a soft towel. She glanced at the clock. Was it eight already? Soon, she would be taking June back home to the Manoir, and this dreamy date would be over. “What should we do now?”
June yanked the towel from her hands, and with a sultry look to blow up the ages, she hooked her fingers around her zipper and shoved her hand down her hostess’s jeans – but not before giving Sette a quick kiss to the cheek.
I should have guessed.
Chapter 8
June
June emerged from the bathroom and popped a mint into her mouth.Never leave home without them.How many had she consumed over the years? At least a million. Now she sucked on her favorite one – like she had sucked on Sette ten minutes ago.
Sette sat in the living room, still in a daze.Couldn’t help myself. Had to be done.The woman had been screaming for sex all day. As a perfect lady, however, she hadn’t asked for it out in public. Far cry from a lot of the clients June went out with throughout her career. Most of them got off on public thrills.
So, when Sette went that long without jumping her, it only seemed right that she…
Okay, okay. I panicked. I didn’t know what else to do. How do I hang out with someone all day and not at least touch their genitals?This job was doing a number on her ability to have a relationship. Sette had been kind to her all day. Did June thinkshe owed her? Or was she so taken in by her that she had to do something sexual? Maybe she was giving her an orgasm so their night could go on longer. Shit, was June really so fucked up in that regard?
“Feeling better now?” June sat next to her on her couch and patted her knee. There wasn’t any sign of lust in her body.I killed it. Real good. Even after rinsing out her mouth and popping in the mint, she could still taste Sette on her tongue.
“Didn’t realize I wasn’t feeling okay earlier.”
“But you feel better, right?” June patted her knee even harder. “Now, are you going to show me those pictures or not?”
Sighing dramatically, Sette got up, taking June’s hand in hers. “First, more wine.”
