The Amber Columns (The City of Dark Pleasures Book 2) by Bibi Rizer Page B
Authors: Bibi Rizer
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looking over the water, because she changes the subject.
“It’s nice here, this path. I didn’t know this was here. What is the farm exactly?”
I turn, leaning back on the conduit pillar. “We grow most of the food for the Pleasures. Our food and some of the vendors’ food too. Have you never noticed that things taste fresher here than in the Controlled City?”
“I guess. Those dumplings were good,” she says. “Do you ever work there?”
“We take shifts. It’s hard work but I like it.”
“That explains why you’re so fit.” The blush rises in her face so fast I’m slightly surprised that she doesn’t swoon from low blood pressure. “Oh, fuck. I don’t know why I said that.”
I take a step forward, closer to her. “It’s possible I have better body in your dreams than I do in reality.”
Her blush deepens and she looks down. “Oh? I don’t think so.”
I reach out, lightly touching the material of her sleeve, sliding my hand down, slowly. It’s not like I haven’t done this before—the things I do here in the Pleasures are always a kind of seduction—but I feel just as giddy as…well as I did with things I did long ago, things my dead twin did before I was cut. Normal teenage things: a girl I liked, an awkward advance. It’s like I’m reliving it.
I’m nearly thirty years old and I’ve never made an actual pass at a woman. At least not one old enough to wear a proper bra. My teenage fumbles, more inspired by the world crumbling around me than any real feelings, are all I have to go on. And like everything else from my old life, I barely remember them. For all intents and purposes I’m a different person. Not that boy. Not the man he would have turned into.
Not really a man.
“There are parts that the dream Tully has that I don’t have, though. Right?” I say. I don’t know if I mean that to be flirtatious or a disclaimer. Maybe she’s forgotten who she’s talking to, whose fingers she’s just intertwined with her own.
“That doesn’t matter.” She turns her eyes up to meet mine.
“It doesn’t?”
“I mean, I’m sure it matters to you, but it doesn’t matter to me.”
I can’t help it any longer: I slide my free hand over her neck and cheek and into her glossy hair. “O’Mara…this is…not wise.”
“Fuck wisdom.”
I shake my head, laughing, and inch my face a little closer to hers.
“Why did you lose your license, Tully?”
“I stole something from a citizen.” We’re speaking in whispers now, though we’re all alone. No one to hear anything out here but sleeping chickens and fireflies.
O’Mara rests her free hand on my hip, gripping me through my sweater. “What did you steal?”
Her breath smells like dumpling soup and mint. An odd combination, but I think I’d find it sexy if I wasn’t so confused. I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be here. This will end in tears.
MY tears, as well as hers probably.
“I stole a diamond bracelet. From an old harem wife.”
O’Mara frowns up at me. “What did you want with a lady’s bracelet?”
Our noses touch, her brown eyes go out of focus.
“I wanted to give it to someone,” I say, my own eyes drifting shut. “I wanted to give it to you.” And then, so I don’t have to explain anymore, and because I really want to, I kiss her.
Chapter Six – O’Mara
Tully kisses so tentatively, unlike the first time he kissed me, when he was “priming me” for the most intense sexual experience of my life. This kiss is nothing like that, because I realize that first kiss was just business. This one only lasts a second, there is no tongue or groping, his hands curl around my arm and the back of my head. But gently—his touch is soft.
And yet, in the brief time it lasts, I feel the same kind of intimate connection I did with the imaginary version of him I encountered in my first dream. Kissing Tully is like kissing someone directly on their soul. There’s something beyond erotic
“It’s nice here, this path. I didn’t know this was here. What is the farm exactly?”
I turn, leaning back on the conduit pillar. “We grow most of the food for the Pleasures. Our food and some of the vendors’ food too. Have you never noticed that things taste fresher here than in the Controlled City?”
“I guess. Those dumplings were good,” she says. “Do you ever work there?”
“We take shifts. It’s hard work but I like it.”
“That explains why you’re so fit.” The blush rises in her face so fast I’m slightly surprised that she doesn’t swoon from low blood pressure. “Oh, fuck. I don’t know why I said that.”
I take a step forward, closer to her. “It’s possible I have better body in your dreams than I do in reality.”
Her blush deepens and she looks down. “Oh? I don’t think so.”
I reach out, lightly touching the material of her sleeve, sliding my hand down, slowly. It’s not like I haven’t done this before—the things I do here in the Pleasures are always a kind of seduction—but I feel just as giddy as…well as I did with things I did long ago, things my dead twin did before I was cut. Normal teenage things: a girl I liked, an awkward advance. It’s like I’m reliving it.
I’m nearly thirty years old and I’ve never made an actual pass at a woman. At least not one old enough to wear a proper bra. My teenage fumbles, more inspired by the world crumbling around me than any real feelings, are all I have to go on. And like everything else from my old life, I barely remember them. For all intents and purposes I’m a different person. Not that boy. Not the man he would have turned into.
Not really a man.
“There are parts that the dream Tully has that I don’t have, though. Right?” I say. I don’t know if I mean that to be flirtatious or a disclaimer. Maybe she’s forgotten who she’s talking to, whose fingers she’s just intertwined with her own.
“That doesn’t matter.” She turns her eyes up to meet mine.
“It doesn’t?”
“I mean, I’m sure it matters to you, but it doesn’t matter to me.”
I can’t help it any longer: I slide my free hand over her neck and cheek and into her glossy hair. “O’Mara…this is…not wise.”
“Fuck wisdom.”
I shake my head, laughing, and inch my face a little closer to hers.
“Why did you lose your license, Tully?”
“I stole something from a citizen.” We’re speaking in whispers now, though we’re all alone. No one to hear anything out here but sleeping chickens and fireflies.
O’Mara rests her free hand on my hip, gripping me through my sweater. “What did you steal?”
Her breath smells like dumpling soup and mint. An odd combination, but I think I’d find it sexy if I wasn’t so confused. I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be here. This will end in tears.
MY tears, as well as hers probably.
“I stole a diamond bracelet. From an old harem wife.”
O’Mara frowns up at me. “What did you want with a lady’s bracelet?”
Our noses touch, her brown eyes go out of focus.
“I wanted to give it to someone,” I say, my own eyes drifting shut. “I wanted to give it to you.” And then, so I don’t have to explain anymore, and because I really want to, I kiss her.
Chapter Six – O’Mara
Tully kisses so tentatively, unlike the first time he kissed me, when he was “priming me” for the most intense sexual experience of my life. This kiss is nothing like that, because I realize that first kiss was just business. This one only lasts a second, there is no tongue or groping, his hands curl around my arm and the back of my head. But gently—his touch is soft.
And yet, in the brief time it lasts, I feel the same kind of intimate connection I did with the imaginary version of him I encountered in my first dream. Kissing Tully is like kissing someone directly on their soul. There’s something beyond erotic
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