Lizbeth's Lesbian Collection (Pagan Dreams; Demise of the Diva) by Lizbeth Dusseau

Author:Lizbeth Dusseau [Dusseau, Lizbeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: erotica
Publisher: Pink Flamingo Publications
Published: 2014-08-14T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Three

Robin drove to The Hill as if she was going home, an all too familiar feeling she had to shake. It was a mystery to her that she could remember it so well even after ten years. But then Felicia’s face would often cross her mind, vivid and unambiguous. That had to be the impression everyone had of Miss Felicia Roman; good or bad, it was always vivid.

The house stood as a monument to Victorian bric-a-brac: turrets, front porches, and dank musty smells. Pulling out of her car, Robin looked up at the tower room imagining what Felicia had looked like lying dead in her bed. It was only appropriate that the woman die there on top of her satin covers, between the four posters of her massive antique mahogany bed, inside a room that would be infused with her distinctive aura. Even the bondage wasn’t so strange.

Robin could almost smell Felicia still, as if her Tea Rose perfume was making its way down to her on a breeze, beckoning her back inside. The two years she’d spent in this house seemed as if it was yesterday, when she was much too young to be playing around with the likes of Felicia Roman. Felicia was younger then too, though it always seemed as if she was ageless, born at a certain plateau of enlightenment, never to go beyond that point, but never to be less than she was, and never to fall into disrepair the way old ladies sometimes do. Thinking back, Robin figured that she must have been well over forty when she died.

Felicia always seemed so fully intelligent and poised on first meeting. She had a way of putting people at ease with her gentle ways, her bright eyes, and affectionate smile. But after a time, like everyone else that knew her, Robin came to believe that Felicia was either crazy or too complex to be handled with any real understanding.

Though it had been years since Robin had been up the hill, the grounds about the estate looked the same as they’d always looked. Felicia kept it sensuously wild, letting the gardens become overgrown, the vines intertwining erotically mimicking the lovers in the grand old house. The whole place was one pulsing breathing organ of vegetation, each plant dependent on the others for survival, a little like the very jungle of Felicia’s thoughts, and the intimate jungle of the world that surrounded her. It was a haven away, a lesbian enclave. In the center of a city that had treated her ruthlessly, she triumphed because Felicia spat in the face of the people who mocked her.

The remarkable woman was a capricious charmer with an innocent face; she was a dark eyed bitch with rope and whip, a 1940’s movie queen in platform shoes and satin dress, a dominatrix, a femme fatale, a withering lily, a fairy, a fox and a monster. She was a natural born blonde, but it wasn’t a pretty blonde, so she changed the color of her hair with the seasons and her mood.

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