Thirst Ch. 03

[Thanks to the comments and feedback on the first two chapters of "Thirst" as well as for suggestions and ideas. I am sorry for the undue delay in completing Chapter 3, but real life has a way of rudely sidetracking one from the business at hand (pun intended). However, the long hiatu has been useful to develop an expanded plot and extended storyline. As a result, I rewrote the first two chapters. Changes made were minimal, mainly to support the altered storyline.

Chapter 3 is a prologue of sorts to chapters one and two. It covers the increasing self awareness and acceptance of one of the protagonist. (Oui, c'est un flashback.) The point of view is that of the female protagonist of Chapter 2 and the action is mostly lesbian.

Readers who dislike anal play (as well as those who delight in it) are forewarned. Cease and desist (if you're averse), or, cease to resist (if you're inclined favorably).]

*

My dearest, sweet Bim,

I can neither begin to explain the strong feelings that have surfaced since we reconnected, nor the feelings of gratitude and happiness that sweep through me for having you back in my life. But I am glad we are back together. Our time together was so intensely intimate that I couldn't bering myself to discuss one important aspect of my life while you were here. I thought it better to take it up later. The two days you were here was time enough for us to be together, to pick up where we had left off years ago.

I am writing this as a note to answer a question you had asked that I didn't fully clarify, but, more importantly, to avoid any misunderstanding between us that may arise later. And by telling you all, I hope to deepen my connection with you as my partner, companion, soul-mate, and lover. Whatever you do as you read these lines, please do not to jump to any conclusion without due consideration. Writing it out gives me the time to order my feelings and include all the details that are important – as well as arousing, I hope. And, hopefully, it gives you enough time for detached deliberation of my experiences and your feelings towards it before you decide what to do next.

When you were here, you had asked me how I came to be so much more comfortable with my sexuality - particularly anal play - than in the past. I told you that I was experimenting and showed you the probe. But, I chose not to tell you about the events that led me to its acquisition, which is what I want to share with you now. Since this is a reminiscence of sorts, I've tried to reconstruct some of the verbal exchanges to better express the mood and texture of my experiences.

You may remember Sylvie, the research associate that I mentioned her to you in passing. She's the doctoral student from the nearby University who's assisting my team with the research. While I told you how much I valued her statistical knowledge and skills, I didn't disclose my relationship with Sylvia in full. You see, the changes that you saw in me were in part due to her and what we experienced together.

By now, the smart man that you are, you've probably surmised that I am intimate with Sylvie - that is indeed so. And, yes, that does mean that I'm bisexual, as is Sylvie. But I could have told you that in two sentences:

"Sylvie and I are bisexuals. We love each other."

That wouldn't begin to scratch the surface of my feelings towards her and how it may affect what you and I have. So, I'll tell you all that transpired and trust you to draw your own conclusion.

I met Sylvie at a three day conference on Hospital Administration practices in Detroit, slightly more than a year ago. It was for academics, researchers, and clinical staff from universities, research institutions (mine included), insurance companies, and hospitals. I presented a paper on the first afternoon of the conference about the interim results of the study that I am heading that I told you about. It was about the recovery rates of patients at hospitals and potential influencing factors. The preliminary results from the study looked promising, even if inconclusive. Our Director, Dr. Tim Brinker, asked me to present the findings at the conference to see if we could find collaborators from other states and institutions who were willing to corroborate our results.

There were only 30 odd people in the room as I got into the presentation and I felt a bit disappointed with the low turnout. However, judging by the questions from the audience and the applause at the end, it seemed that my presentation was well received. As I stepped off the podium, a few people came up to meet me. There were several hospital administrators and researchers who wanted to be notified of the results when the study formally concluded. Two institutions – an insurance company on the west coast, and, a government health care institution in UK – wanted to collaborate. They even promised to put us in touch with other organizations. Needless to say, I was elated that we had the collaborators we had set out to find.

The last in line was a young woman, who wore a pleasant smile. She wore a bright red bow tie that had caught my eye even when I was up on the podium. Up close, she looked rather young for the crowd as most attendees were in their 30's and 40's – unlike the older academic and research staffers that attended such conferences. She introduced herself, in a husky voice, with a shy, but open smile.

"Hi, Ms. Fontaine. I am Sylvia Tochini I really liked your presentation and your initial results seem truly fascinating. It seems to indicate possibilities for improving the overall efficacy of hospital treatment."

"Nice to meet you Ms. Tochini," I said as we shook hands - her hand rested so softly in mine that my grip felt rather harsh in contrast - curious as to why someone so young would be interested in such an area, "Thank you for the kind words."

I still remember my initial impression of her. Her straight brunette hair was done in a Louise Brooks bob. Full, fleshy lips, decorated with a hint of flesh colored lipstick, accentuated her soft, broad face. Her shy, subdued, yet broad smile bared a neat row of white teeth. Her somewhat formal attire stood out: the dark grey, knee-length woolen skirt went well with cream colored silk shirt, tucked neatly in at the waist. Other than a Baum & Mercier watch, she wore few jewelry and what she had on, was subdued rather than ostentatious. The red bow tie was complemented by the gold studs in her ears, mounted with small, bright red stones. Her classic pumps, with four inch heels, still left her an inch or so shorter than me. I took a liking to her right away.

"By the way, please call me Sheila - no need for formalities," I added, "What was the specific aspect of the research that piqued your interest?"

"Thank you, Sheila. Likewise, friends calls me Sylvie," she said, her hand lingering in mine, "In fact I'd like to work with you. You see, I am looking for a research topic with a fair amount of statistical analysis for my Doctoral dissertation. Besides being a superb applied research topic, I think there's a lot of potential for statistical work in what you're doing. If you can spare some time either today or tomorrow, we can discuss some ideas I have."

She gave me a quick summary of her background. Sylvie had started on her Ph. D. in mathematics a year ago, and was now searching for a dissertation topic. She was hoping to work on a problem with a fair amount of statistical analysis, her area of specialization. She had done some pre-med work as well. She came to the conference hoping to find a topic where she could use her somewhat eclectic mix of skills. She offered to introduce me to the head of her dissertation committee, who, she felt, would surely be supportive of the topic and of her collaborating with my team. Besides, the university that she attended was just three hours drive away from our institute, she could come over and work with my team on a regular basis as well.

Since I had not much else to do at the conference but attend other sessions, I decided to discuss Sylvie's proposal. In addition, I was intrigued by her and, as I realized soon after, instinctively attracted to her.

As the room was filling up for the next session, we walked out. When I proposed that we find someplace to sit and talk, Sylvie suggested that we go to the Marriott at the Renaissance center since it was close by Cobo Hall. When I mentioned that I was staying there, she smiled and said that she too was checked in there. Back at the hotel, once we were seated at the River Bar, she grabbed the wine menu.

"Ah. The '98 Yalumba Shiraz," she nodded her head, and then, looked up at me, "Would you like a glass of wine Sheila? Allow me to treat you for taking the time to talk with me. "

"Sure. But, this treat's mine Sylvie," I insisted, and then asked, "Is 98 a particularly good year for Australian wine? Or is it the winery?"

"Well, I've had it once before - 98 is an excellent year for Aussie Shiraz – and I hear the winery is pretty good, although I've never been there," she paused, gesturing for the waiter with a sure wave, before turning back to continue, "Yes, I am interested in wine, although I'm not much of connoisseur. At least not yet."

While she ordered the wine along with a platter of cheese, I glanced at the price of the bottle on the menu. My hunch that Sylvie was not the average graduate student who had to get by on a meager assistantship was correct. I asked her how she ended up doing a doctorate in math in association with the medical school and she told me a bit more about herself after the waiter came by with the wine and cheese.

Her parents were both doctors and owned a hospital in a smaller city in the mid-west. As the only child of two working parents, she ended up spending a fair amount of her time after school at the hospital. At the university, wishing to please her parents, she enrolled in pre-med since both of them wanted her to take over the hospital eventually. But, after a year, it became painfully clear that she was bored. She missed math, her favorite subject in high school, and didn't like pre-med at all. She switched her major, much to the disappointment of her parents, and went on to complete a Master's in statistics. After working at an insurance company for a year as an actuarial researcher, she decided to enter the Doctoral program, and, after the first semester, persuaded her Doctoral advisor that it be in applied statistics in the medical field. But she was having trouble finding an interesting and challenging enough topic in the area. A friend of her parents' - a research professor at the Medical school - had mentioned the conference to Sylvie and suggested that she might try her luck by attending the sessions. That's how she ended up in my session.

I, in return, told her about our institute: Dr. Brinker, my team, the hospitals where we were gathering data, and what we were hoping to accomplish. By her questions about the nature and type of data we were collecting and how they were relevant to the hypothesis that we had started with, I could see that she was a smart cookie. She seemed to grasp the medical aspects of our research rather quickly, aided by her work experience at her parents' hospital and the one year of pre-med work.

Sylvie explained the basics of the statistical techniques and experiments that she felt would enhance the research. She felt that it'd be useful to include additional types of data, such as the environmental causal factors, qualification of the medical team, physical condition of the neighborhood, etc. It was clear to me that she could contribute to our work and I would never get the time and input from the few statistical experts at the research institute as I would from having someone like Sylvie on the team. We quickly decided that it'd be best for her to meet Dr Brinker and my team for a mutual evaluation session. I thought we'd be able to give her a part time position, but, she never brought up the question of the financial arrangement that evening.

That decided, our conversation drifted to other topics, and we had begun to warm up to each other on our way through the second glass of the Shiraz. I asked her the question that had been stewing in my head.

"So, what's with the bow tie and the Louise Brooks look, Sylvie?"

"Oh, that. I always liked bow ties – dad wears it all the time. And I adore Louise – she's so sexy! Have you seen Pandora's Box?" she asked, head tilted to the side, her silky hair sliding smoothly on her upturned cheek, while a shiny sheet of it fell away to her shoulder on the other side.

"Oh, yes, and 'The Diary of a Lost Girl' as well. She was quite suave in those roles, wasn't she?" I said, pleased to run into someone so young who appreciated the silent flickers.

"Wow! That's rare. I don't run into too many people who are interested in those movies, leave alone German movies from the 20's or 30's," she responded, echoing my sentiments.

"Nor do I," I paused before complimenting her, "The bow tie goes well the hair Sylvie, even if I had never seen Louise in that combo. Quite elegant, I must say."

"Thanks. But my dad thinks that the tie is too showy on a woman – he says it's provocative, even though he doesn't see it that way about himself when he wears one," she laughed, winking her eye.

I liked her laughter. It came gurgling from deep within her, bursting out in a trill and then receded into a subdued giggle. Before long, we were into an involved discussion about movies. She was an aficionado of the type of art house, foreign movies that I (and you) like. Eventually, I blurted out the second question that I wanted to ask her, fortified as I was by two glasses of wine.

"Excuse me for being forward Sylvie, but how old are you? If you don't mind me asking…"

"It's alright. I am twenty six. Do you think that's too young?"

Too young for what, I wondered.

"Oh no, not really. I was curious because you seemed so well informed. That's all," I hesitated, and then added, "I am thirty four by the way. Since you told me your age, it's only fair that you should know mine."

But, my explanation didn't ring true. I wondered why I was so interested in comparing our ages.

"Why, thank you Sheila. It's nice of you to be so candid," She smiled, "I had pegged you at about thirty."

"Thanks Sylvie. You're too generous," I said, pleased with her compliment.

I was glad for Sylvie's company and buoyed by our easy banter. Her pleasant manners and elegant appearance were a contrast to the preening, stiff, and all too earnest academic types that came to such conferences.

"Listen Sylvie, I was supposed to meet my colleagues for dinner. But, I can reschedule it if you're free to join me tonight. We can discuss more of this beastly research work, or, movies and simply have an easy time," I offered, my mind made up.

"Oh, yes, certainly! I'd love that Sheila. In fact, I was wondering if you are free today evening as well. The Greek town is nearby and there's some good food to be had there," she replied eagerly.

As you can imagine Bim, I was delighted that she was adventurous when it came to cuisine. After I called my colleagues and explained the change of plans, we finished the wine and went off to a restaurant in the nearby Greek town. During dinner, our conversation drifted around movies and directors, places she had been to, books and such. She appreciated some of my favorite European directors. She recommended movies by Japanese and Chinese directors that I had neither heard of nor seen. Apparently her interest in Asian cultures led her to many of the obscure directors from the region. She talked about her last trip to Japan – her impression of the architecture, culture and people and how much she loved staying in old Japanese Inns and of exploring the less crowded villages on the western coast.

Altogether, it turned out to be a very enjoyable evening and I was glad I had asked her to dinner. Afterwards, we took a cab back to the hotel and got into the elevator. When only one of the floor buttons lit up after both of us punched our respective floors on either side of the door, I glanced up at her, puzzled, only to see her staring at me with a quizzical expression.

"Looks like we're both on the same floor, Ms. Fontaine," she laughed, shrugging her shoulders.

"So it is," I smiled back at her, finding the way she addressed me formally curiously exciting.

Stepping off the elevator, she walked with me along the corridor and stopped at the room before mine, on the opposite side of the corridor.

"What a coincidence, eh?" I said, as I stood in front of my room, fishing for the card key in my handbag.

"You're not Canadian, eh?" She giggled, retrieving her key, "Believe me, nothing's a coincidence. The universe has its purpose."

"Oh, no, I'm not from Canada. But, I picked up the "eh!" from an ex-Indonesian boyfriend of mine, who attended high school in Canada," I said, still struggling with the unyielding lock, "How about that, eh?"

"Indonesian? How very interesting," she paused, without making a move to open her door, "And now?"

I shrugged my shoulder, "Now, I'm waiting for Godot; or, perhaps for the Universe to reveal its purpose?"

She laughed and turning to me, asked shyly, "It's just eight o'clock Sheila. Would you like to join me over a glass of St. Emillon in my room? I think you'll like it."

"You're quite the wine connoisseur, Sylvie," I said, happy with her invitation, "Well, one more glass wouldn't hurt, I suppose."

We entered her room and after getting the bottle, Sylvie called room service for a wine cork pull. After taking off her jacket and tie, and unbuttoning the collar of her silk blouse, she turned towards me to take my jacket. I vividly remember noting that her breasts were bigger than mine and the embarrassment that arose from that comparison sending a sheet of warmth across my cheeks. Luckily, she turned away from me to answer the knock on the door. It was the bell hop who had come to deliver the wine pull. She expertly opened the bottle and poured the wine. We settled into the sofa, facing each other. Taking a sip from the glass and nodding her head in approval, she asked me somewhat hesitantly, as if she was afraid to offend me.

"So, tell me about your Indonesian ex-boyfriend from Canada, if you don't mind. He sounds quite exotic."

"Oh, Bima Sarit. Hmm… That was several years ago, when we were both living in a different city in the South. He's very nice, but we talk rarely now," I said, musing about us, "We were going steady, but I broke up with Bim when I moved here."

I felt comfortable with Sylvie, although she was so much younger. Bim, I told her about our time together and a bit about what I liked about you. I remember the sense of loss I felt when I mentioned your knowledge of European cinema, Sylvie was surprised that an Indonesian would be interested in European culture. So I gave her a bit of your background: that you were schooled in Europe and Montreal, and had moved around a bit as the son of a diplomat. And how your family had decided to settle here after Suharto came to power. Sylvie immediately remembered "The Year of Living Dangerously."

"He sounds like a fascinating man Sheila. Sorry it didn't work out with him."

"Thanks Sylvie. But, c'est la vie," I said, and tried to change the topic, "Well, what about you? Don't you have one or more boy friends?".

Sylvie blushed and looked down at her glass of wine. After a few seconds, she looked up at me.

"Well, you see, hmm… I am… well, I just broke up with my partner," and, she was silent for a longer while, before continuing haltingly, "It was a… err… umm… ah… I was seeing a woman, you see."