Chapter I
Sky annoyed me the first time we met.
She just... annoyed me.
At a co-workers wedding reception at a dining hall on the outskirts of downtown Chicago (a co-workers wedding reception that I really did NOT want to attend) I had escaped to a sheltered veranda that overlooked Lake Michigan in the distance. The view was breathtaking and timeless, and with the band and the conversations muted by distance and closed doors, I had come here to decipher my plan to slip away without being seen.
I had a stomach ache. I had a headache. Something in the food didn't sit right with me. I had to get up in the morning. My condo was on fire. An old friend was coming in from out of town. Regardless, I didn't want to be there anymore and I really didn't want to spend a half hour saying good-byes. I would leave quietly and deal with the fallout another time.
But the view - a fat gray moon shining down on glistening black water β was spectacular. And I stayed to admire it just a little too long.
I work at a legal firm that specializes in hammering people who commit insurance fraud on a major scale. We don't worry about the little guy who hurts his back and then does yard work while milking a little off the system. We focus on the major players β those who buy turn-over houses for $15,000 and then finagle inspectors, commissioners and builders to write up valued estimates five times that amount. I'm not a very outgoing or forceful person by nature, but I can really work a courtroom to beat down an opponent. Most of the cases I take are settled without ever seeing a courtroom, and that's a good thing for those I go after.
Yep, I'm that good.
But I have my little taboo interests and my secret little fantasies. We all do, right? In the darkness of my room at night, armed with nothing but my thoughts and my fingers and my toys, I have my weaknesses. But reality shines harshly in daylight, and the shadows keep a lot of secrets.
Boy, do they keep secrets.
So I was standing on that veranda in heels and a black evening gown, one that fell about my form elegantly and turned heads, but without being inappropriate. I would never stand for that. I know I look good β perhaps really good- but a wedding is a day for the bride, not a guest. I thought I looked professional and elegant, yet conservative.
"I hope you weren't planning on keeping this view all to yourself," the voice said.
She slid up to the railing next to me and joined my gaze out to the far-off Great Lake. I didn't look at her directly, but cast a quick glance out of the corner of my eye to at least see who was speaking to me β clearly someone I did not know. She wore black slacks β tight, form-fitting slacks that could have passed for leather at first glance β that accentuated her curves. The slacks were tucked into knee high black leather boots β gestapo style. She wore a beige, sleeveless turtleneck sweater and her skin was almost alabaster white.
And she had pink hair.
Short, almost spiky, pink hair...
When I caught sight of her, of her hair and the way it clashed with her pale skin, she grinned, and the smile was mischievous and intelligent and wonderfully engrossing. I found myself drawn to her at once β at ease. And this was a strange reaction for me because I usually disdained meeting new people and I trusted hardly anyone, especially upon first meeting them.
"Breast cancer," she said.
"I'm sorry...?" I asked her. Did she just tell me she had breast cancer? Or was she asking me if I did? "You...?"
"My hair," she said, pointing a finger at herself. "It's died pink for breast cancer. I'm a kindergarten teacher and the school raised money for breast cancer awareness. My class did a bake sale and I said if we led the school in sold baked goods I'd die my hair pink. We won, so tad da..."
"Oh... it's quite... it looks good..."
"I'm Sky," she said.
Although a bit put off at having to engage when I'd come out here to be alone, I didn't want to be rude.
"I'm Caitlin," I told her. "Caitlin Drummond."
The woman's smile was warm and inviting, strangely engaging almost, as if she were boring into my head. There was a slight squint around her eyes and... I did feel something. It's hard to explain β hard to decipher with words β but when I did look over at her, when I turned and really looked at her β she was leaning against the railing and studying me so intently I wanted to look away. I felt my cheeks flush with a strange warmth that I did not like nor did I recognize. Or maybe I DID recognize it, and THAT'S why I didn't like it. Because as I stood there with my hands on the railing, just her and I in the dim light backdrop lighting of the hall, that flush was something I only experienced in my most private moments β when it was only me.
Yet she was burrowing deeper into my head β God, I could feel it β and she was pulling the thoughts to the surface. It was the strangest, most bizarre sensation I'd ever experienced. All I can compare it too is having something inside me, something hidden and locked away, pried loose despite my inhibitions.
I tried to look away...
"No, no, no, little one..." She said very softly, very pointedly. "Don't move. Let me in..." Her eyes were shades of green and blue, and I stared into them, feeling her moving around in my head. My spine tingled and goose bumps raced up and down my skin. It was so inexplicably odd, and terribly intoxicating. I'd had one glass of wine, that's it, so I knew it wasn't alcohol. It was her... I sort of wobbled there, my eyes shrinking half closed, and we just stood a few feet apart and staring at each other. Jesus pull back! You're a lawyer for God's sakes! This little creepy sex pot is devouring you right now! And I tried to move β I did. I tried to turn away or to speak or laugh or break eye contact, but I couldn't.
I
Could
Not
Each time I squirmed she held my gaze.
"Just relax, little one," she said in that strange, sing-song voice. "Let me poke around in there."
And she did... Jesus, she did. I was able to manage only a sort of lilting smile and a very soft 'okay' like it was the most normal thing in the world for a girl half my age to be invading my head. If someone watched us, they would see two β perhaps friends β leaning against a railing and sort of staring at each other, although my eyelids were half closed.
And then I felt her tendrils or whatever they were just sort of slither back out. Pop! And she was out. I leaned against the railing and only now realized I'd been holding my breath.
"I'm not a lesbian," I blurted out.
But she merely smiled.
"Is that what you think this is about? You being gay...? Or ME being gay...?" She swayed on the heel of a boot while she spoke and the move was strangely erotic. "This isn't that simple, Megan. This is... a bit more complicated than that. My goal is to make you simple, but... No, I've been watching you all night."
"Y-you have...?" I managed.
"Yes, I have," she said. "You have a glow about you that screams your submissiveness. One just has to recognize it."