The sequel to - 'What goes up...' Read that FIRST.
Lying on the large, double bed, Harriet sleepily eased her naked body onto its side and the hollow gold crucifix around her pale neck slipped lovingly between her large, firm breasts. Her body heat gradually warming the red pubic hair folded neatly within.
She opened her eyes - remembering.
Today was the first anniversary of Sonia's death and Harriet intended to visit the grave of her former lover.
Tears crept into the corner of her eyes as she recalled their meeting at Eleznick's Cafe and her discovery, that day, of her bisexuality.
"Sentimental me," she murmured softly into the crushed, feather pillow.
**********
In the almost deserted cemetery parking lot, Harriet left her car and walked the remaining short distance to Sonia's grave. Approaching the secluded spot between the spread of two ancient elm trees she saw a young woman kneel and place a large floral wreath on the early morning damp earth.
The woman had long, flaming red hair shining like a beacon in the sunlight. The slight breeze lazily shifting its lustrous waviness.
Harriet stopped; held her breath, tightly grasping her own floral tribute.
The woman stood up and turned towards her and for one heart stopping moment Harriet thought it was Sonia.
Closer scrutiny revealed that it was a near likeness but not her former lover. The lips were thinner and the nose, straighter and longer. Nevertheless, it was still a very beautiful face.
'Who is she?' Harriet had to know.
She moved closer towards the grave.
"I'm sorry to intrude on your grief," said Harriet. "If you wish I can return later."
"No. Please stay. Are you... were you a friend of Sonia's?" asked the young woman, quizzically. "Only, I can't recall seeing you at the funeral."
"I was a very close friend... but was unable to attend. Are you related to Sonia?" asked Harriet.
"I'm Marisa, her younger sister. You are...?"
Harriet extended her hand and lightly held onto Marisa's pleasantly cool hand, it was at that moment that she caught the woman's full fragrance.
It had been Sonia's favorite perfume.
"Harriet... Harriet Edwards," she muttered, slightly bewitched by Marisa's likeness and scent. "May I place my flowers with yours?"
Marisa gazed intently at her as Harriet bent down and arranged the flowers.
"Sonia spoke of you," said Marisa, "We held no secrets from each other and I hope I don't embarrass you when I say that she loved you a great deal... I can see why."
Harriet blushed as she stood and faced Marisa.
"It's kind of you to say so." Tears welled in her eyes, her voice was heavy with emotion as Harriet continued, "I loved Sonia..." She held eye contact with Marisa, "...so very much." She shook her head as if to throw off an emotional weight. "If you know who I am," she said more assertively, "then you know that it was my ex-husband who killed her."
"Yes, I know but I don't hold that against you. In fact I can understand your feelings. Can we be friends?" she asked, smiling warmly.
Harriet beamed delightedly. "I was going to ask same question."
They hugged each other tightly like old friends meeting again for the first time in many years; each woman shed an emotional tear.
**********
During the next two weeks Harriet and Marisa met frequently during the evenings.
Harriet knew that Marisa was still a 'working girl' and could not see her every evening.
Although they were from totally different backgrounds they found much to talk about and of course the common bond between them was the shared love of a bitter-sweet memory.
Each evening's conversation brought Harriet revelations from the two sister's childhood that intrigued and provoked her into more intimate inquiries. It was late one evening after Marisa had drunk too much that she eventually related the full story of their upbringing.
An aunt in Cleveland, Ohio had raised the two girls after the tragic death of their parents in a road accident when they were very young.
The aunt had no idea that her male lodger regularly abused the girls.
Not until Sonia was of an age to properly understand what was happening did she take matters into her own hands. One evening when she went to his room she also took a long, sharp kitchen knife. He awoke to a stinging pain and wetness between his legs. His penis was missing. They never found where she buried his manhood.
Upon his discharge from hospital he moved out of the neighborhood and the girls never saw him again but the events of those years left deep psychological scars that occasionally resurfaced during adolescence. In Sonia's case it manifested itself whenever she made love in the dark. She froze when touched and could not enjoy any foreplay.