Free Twisted Triangle by Caitlin Rother Page B

between them. Patsy may have chosen a Mercedes or an Escada tie to make a statement,
but Margo was wearing her three-carat diamond ring, her diamond earrings, and her Rolex watch. Patsy was a successful author, but Margo saw herself as a success in her own right: she was an instructor at the FBI academy. The degree of emotional risk between them felt equal as well.
“It wasn’t her chasing me, or vice versa,” Margo said later. “It was a mutual attraction.”
Patsy drove through her secluded, affl neighborhood, with its expansive homes and well-groomed lawns, and up the driveway to her large ranch-style house. They entered through the garage, then Patsy led her into the kitchen, through the living room, and into the bedroom, which had a queen-size bed directly in front of the door.
Patsy went over to the vanity and started taking off her rings and jewelry. She seemed a little nervous and unsure of how to proceed, so Margo took the lead.
Margo came up from behind and put her arms around Patsy. Patsy looked up at their refl in the mirror, where their faces and blond heads were side by side. Now they could both see their expressions of longing.
“It was a perfect picture,” Margo recalled. “It just felt right. She turned around in my arms, and I held her. And then we kissed.”
When they’d first kissed in the dorm, Margo had felt an urgency of passion. But this time, it was soft and gentle, and it built from there. They lingered on every touch, not wanting to miss a beat. This time they had all afternoon, and Margo wanted to draw out every moment of it.
Margo found Patsy’s vulnerability, openness, and desire seductive.
“It was a very special and magical, unique moment,” Margo said later, “not something I’d ever felt before, nor did I have any idea that I would feel this again.”
They undressed each other and got into Patsy’s bed, a soft, inviting sea of powder blue, where they made love for more than
an hour. Margo wasn’t looking at her watch, but time didn’t seem to be moving. She was suspended in the sensation of it all.
As they lay together afterward, quiet, letting the sweat dry,
Margo felt calm, complete, and satisfi
“That was wonderful,” Patsy said. “I’ve never felt that before.” “Thank you,” Margo said. “Loving you is easy.”
By this, Margo wasn’t saying she was in love with Patsy; she was merely thanking her for sharing a unique lovemaking experience.
“I’ll be right back,” Patsy said.
She returned a few minutes later with a bottle of spicy red wine from her cellar in one hand and two short glass tumblers in the other, the way real Italians drink wine. She mentioned that the wine cellar had come fully stocked by the home’s previous owners.
Margo had never celebrated making love before, but that’s exactly what they were doing. “I didn’t hold back with Patsy,” she said later. “My heart, my soul, my guts were right out there, experiencing her.”
They lay there, caressing each other as they sipped their wine, and Patsy told Margo about her first affair with a married woman. Patsy said she’d fallen in love with the woman, but she wouldn’t leave her husband. Patsy also said that she and this woman had messed around, but they’d never made love.
Margo took this to mean that Margo was Patsy’s fi female lover, although later she wasn’t quite so sure.
“Patsy was the only other person I had been with since I’d met my husband,” she later said. “I’d never strayed, never even thought about it. So it was touching to me that she was that trusting of me, just as she should have been that I was that open with her.”
About forty-fi minutes later, they looked at the clock and decided they should get dressed and go.
“I have a surprise for you,” Patsy said, turning the car toward an older part of Richmond, where she pulled up to a small house
with peeling paint. There they were greeted by a woman in her early sixties, whose living room was dusty and