This story is copyright of Renzajones.
Karen didn't speak because she couldn't not then, she needed time to think and process the feelings that raced through her mind. She had before now always been in control of herself and her emotions and somehow she knew she couldn't afford not to be now. She had never meant to be the one to redefine this woman or her own role in this relationship. She had in fact looked at herself as nothing more than a cipher, a role she knew was defined by her earlier self in a relationship that had begun much as this one had.
Serenity had been the first and last woman that Karen had loved with her whole self, and even the fledgling feelings that she had, had for that woman all those years ago didn't touch what she was beginning to feel for Kylie.
Serenity Fales had from the start, been an enigma and that alone had been enough to intrigue the 19 year old Karen. They had met at a Gallery opening that had neither been exclusive or high class. It had in fact turned out to be nothing more than the birth of one more nouveau sculptor, who wouldn't last longer than a fad. Rocco Theroux was the sculptor of the hour, though he would prove to be the Hanson of the art world and be forgotten in a year.
He was also a friend of Serenity's although the exact nature of their relationship would always remain dubious, she was neither an art collector nor a connisuier and he was not straight and seemed to be a recluse in the highest order still it was he who had personally invited the woman to his first show. Karen had simply seen the flyer on one of the overly packed bulletin boards at school and then again taped to the wall of the organic health food co-op at which she sometimes shopped.
She hadn't had much to do outside of the usual painting and classes so she'd figured what the hell if nothing else it might at least be good for a laugh. She had been walking around looking at the pieces of larger than life metal, copper and sometimes bits of twine that had been fused together and painted in a random fashion. There was nothing that struck her especially until she looked at a piece that was the creation of an altogether different artist.
The woman was standing next to a sculpture that was dwarfed her already small frame to an almost laughable extreme. The woman was small and dark, even in the dim lighting her deep chocolate skin seemed to shine with some sort of light that emanated from within. Her features were small and sharp on her heart shaped face and brought to mind a pixie of some sort.
Her face wouldn't have been remarkable if it weren't dominated by her large dark eyes, she was not a beautiful woman but was instead arresting. She was the type that would cause people to look as she walked down the street and then turn to look again once she'd passed without quite knowing why. Karen was in fact staring at her studying her and wanting her when the woman fixed those dark eyes on her.
She smiled a little, nothing more than a brief flask of whit teeth against her dark face, that was enough for Karen who hardly ever even waited for an invitation in the first place. She walked over and introduced herself to the woman and smiled her own broad self assured smile. She was no stranger to the attraction that she felt and when she looked into the captivating eyes of the small woman before her she knew that the woman was aware of and receptive to the same thing. She couldn't exactly say how she knew, only that she did. Maybe it was the way the woman returned the smile, the tip of her pink tongue drifting over her upper lip the moment before her mouth had parted into a smile, or maybe it was the extra second she held her hand when Karen introduced herself. Whatever it was she could tell.
They spent the rest of the evening talking about nothing, biding their time really, Karen wanted to get the niceties over with and take this woman somewhere quiet, or at least private and run her hands over her lush curves. She needed to know if this woman was as soft on the inside as she looked on the outside. She wanted to see if those eyes would darken with passion or close altogether, overwhelmed with sensation. She wasn't yet confident enough to put her request into words or action so instead she waited, and made conversation hoping that the woman would make the first move.
Serenity watched the girl as they spoke, she liked her look, Karen seemed not to know her own beauty, or at least not the extent of it. She had a certain confidence that hadn't yet matured and as a result she seemed self assured without being self-possessed. Beyond the girl's looks the woman also liked the way the girl looked at her, it had been sometime since anyone had looked at her with anything more than abject lust. She had felt the girl's eyes on her earlier and had seen the desire in her eyes but there was an interest beyond that, the desire to know her and not just take her. Or at least she thought so.
When the night was over, and the crowd such as it was began to dissipate, Karen felt a sudden sadness, she hadn't intended to get to know the woman but was somehow glad that they had talked. She was in fact very interested in who Serenity was as well as how the woman would feel writhing beneath her own hands. The woman was an incarnate contradiction of opposites. She had an air of worldly innocence, like a child that had seen and known to much in it's young life, coupled with the personality of a pragmatic dreamer.
Karen herself was too young to recognize these things as signs of a slightly schizophrenic and self absorbed woman who had never fully left the shelter of her childhood because the responsibility of adulthood frightened her and disrupted the stasis of the world in which she chose to live. After that first night they had built a bond and blinded by infatuation Karen had thrown herself into the renewal and reconstruction of Serenity, and loved the woman harder each time she could not sculpt her into what she so wanted her to be. It had taken Karen years to recognize her Pygmalion like obsession although she never did end up with her personal Galatea.
Still she had given all of herself and had not quite known that she should be getting something in return, and so she had never asked, but Serenity's lack of growth did not stop Karen herself from making her own transition into womanhood, and when she did she no longer found the childish actions of a woman twice her age endearing. She no longer understood Serenity's refusal to take care of her own most basic needs, nor the fits of indulgence the woman was prone to. She couldn't understand the compulsion to take and not give and she could no longer endure the petulance that she had once mistaken for a coping device.
She had wanted to look beyond Serenity's surface and find depth but when she only touched the vast emptiness she was afraid. She had mistaken the woman's swift mood changes for the passion of an impulsive romantic who loved as hard as she hated, and had mistaken a void for depth. She loved the image she created and even now couldn't separate the two. She had been just as guilty as the woman who had walked away from her and taken the last vestige of her childhood with her.
She could still see Serenity entwined with the sweat slicked man, the both of them tangled in Karen's sheets, not even noticing her at first. She had come home early from the office job she'd taken, to support herself and her lover, who never could seem to hold down a steady job. She hated the job and almost everyone who worked with her but the portraits she sometimes did, didn't bring in nearly enough cash so she had put her dreams on hold to embrace the reality she so wanted to hold on to.
