Chapter 9 #4
“Right. How did you meet our sister again? She never once mentioned you until this morning. Quite the shock, really. She never brings her women around.”
Her women? Miquela furrowed her brows.
“Forgive me. I sometimes forget my manners in English. I mean… she never brings her girlfriends around. You’re the first one we’ve met in years. Who was it? That Nigerian model?”
“Ambria.” That relationship had lasted about two months, and was a rare event since Rosa in which Miquela was not dating a working woman. Not that kind of working woman, anyway. “How kind of you to remember her.”
“Before that, it was Rosa.”
“Yes. It was Rosa.” What a low blow. Dolores was one of the few who knew the details of that relationship.
Back when Miquela drunkenly thought she could confide in one of her closest family members.
Fuck me for thinking she and I are that close.
She had since learned her lesson. She loved her sisters, but Dolores was a pain in the ass.
There was a reason her name meant sorrows. “Now it’s June.”
“Should I tell Mama and Papa?” Dolores sneered. “I’m sure they would love to know you’re seriously dating someone again instead of fucking around with the models and charming burlesque dancers.”
“Now, now, that was only once.” When Miquela took one of her dates on parade right in front of Dolores on a date with her husband, Pierre. “I’m a woman of more refined tastes now.” She rubbed June’s bare knee. “June is one sophisticated lady.”
“What is it that you do for a living, Ms. Kingsley?” Dolores propped her elbow on the table. “I’m eager to know.”
To her credit, June was quick to answer. “I help run a lounge near where Miquela lives now. So, businesswoman, I suppose you could say. I work for myself and always have.”
“Interesting. A lounge, you say? I take it that it’s quite fancy.”
“Quite. You could say it’s akin to this type of restaurant in terms of exclusivity.”
“June works in one of the finest American establishments I’ve ever had the pleasure of visiting.” Miquela cleared her throat. “It’s where we met.”
Maria absentmindedly chewed her food; Dolores studied Miquela’s expression. “I’m sure it is. Muy interesante.”
The pain of the family lunch came to an end shortly thereafter.
Dolores had an appointment, and Maria wanted to go shopping with some friends.
A bevy of tanned beauties waited for her outside, each of their skirts so high that Miquela felt like she was on a party yacht in the Caribbean. When in Monaco…
“I hope to see you both again soon,” Dolores said outside, putting on her sunglasses.
“It was interesting meeting you, Ms. Kingsley.” She tucked her purse beneath her arm and marched off, raising her other arm to herald her driver.
A black sedan pulled up along the curb, and soon Dolores disappeared behind tinted windows.
“She seems cheery,” June said. “Both of them. Ahem.”
“They’re easy. It’s my parents who can be rude.”
“So I’ve gathered.”
Miquela turned her toward their parking spot. “Day’s beginning! Let me show you the other great love of my life.”
The Mediterranean was particularly bright and blue that day.
Half the boats in the marina were out cruising, sailing, or puttering around in the harbor and beyond.
One particularly loud vessel, full of reveling party-goers, made a splash as they cruised by with Bruno Mars blaring and what looked like a French celebrity pulling down his swim trunks to show all the bikini-clad women what the press crowed about.
“This place is fun,” June said, following Miquela down to the docks. “So, where’s your nautical mistress?”
“Here.” Cornelia by Northwest was the brand new vessel with a name that even she couldn’t explain.
A humble two-story, boasting enough room for a mere two dozen, it was Miquela’s second home in Monaco.
Certainly, she had spent many tipsy nights in the cabin, sometimes with a female partner, sometimes alone.
Usually, her days were spent going out by herself, entertaining business associates, having silent time with her father (who had his own, much bigger yacht), or even going fishing if the mood struck her.
And taking pretty women like June out to show off and indulge in carnal pleasures.
She wasn’t sure about that latter part for today’s excursion.
Which was interesting, because usually once they were out on the water, all Miquela could think about was getting beneath her companion’s skirt.
When they were alone all the way out there…
conversations died. Interests waned. If left to her own devices, the woman would either take a nap whilst sunning herself or play on her phone from here until eternity.
Even if June was bored, she never let on. From the moment they stepped on the yacht, she was smiling, checking out the cabin and hovering around Captain Miquela as she showed her this and that – including the rope knots she tied by herself.
“I went through this phase as a kid where all I wanted to do was tie ropes,” she explained.
June laughed. “You gonna tie me up again sometime soon?”
“Perhaps.”
She asked when they were going to leave the dock and have some fun in the sun. Miquela informed her that she had no intention of cruising with the yacht.
“Excuse me?” June asked, tapping her foot. “Then why did you bring me all the way up here? To look at toys I can’t play with?” Her hand went straight for Miquela’s crotch.
Instead of indulging in what she offered right there in a public marina, Miquela pointed to the smaller boat docked beside hers. “We’re going out on that.”
June looked over the starboard side. “Ooh, sporty!”
“You don’t even know yet.”
In Monaco, speed boating was a sport. Hell, anything that combined dangerous, motorized vessels and showing off was a time-honored tradition.
(She had shown June the world-famous speedway earlier that morning.
If they had more time together in Monaco, she would have taken her to the Grand Prix.
Maybe one day, when she was June’s patron.) How much money did you have?
How could you best show it off without looking like you were doing it on purpose?
There were many art forms in the world, but for European billionaires, this was one of the most recognizable.
“It’s so cute!” June sat in the passenger seat while Miquela checked that everything was in order. “Do you go out in this thing much?”
“On beautiful days like this? As much as I can. But it’s not fun unless I have someone as equally fun to be with.” She winked at June, although she probably couldn’t see it through their combined sunglasses. “Ready?”
“Should I put on a lifejacket?” June eyed the one by her feet.
“If you really want to. I promise I’m a safe driver!”
Miquela backed out of the dock, careful not to hit any of the other small boats whipping in and out of the marina. June held on with white knuckles, but the glee on her visage wasn’t anything but pure excitement. Her white blouse and shorts looked as carefree as the rest of her.
“You might want to put your hair up, though,” Miquela cautioned at the last minute. “Or so many women have told me over the years.”
“I dunno.” June pulled a red scrunchie out of her pocket and whipped her hair back into a loose, low-hanging bun. “You might look good with long hair.”
“Don’t think so.” Once she was situated again, Miquela gunned the gas on the boat and took off for the open water. June shrieked so loudly that she almost drowned out the motor.
There was nothing like exploring the open seas at top speed, kicking back waves behind a boat, and greeting the blaring sun above.
Even with dozens of other white vessels crowding around them, Miquela still saw – and felt – nothing but freedom.
When she was much younger, this was one of the only ways she could appropriately get away from her family.
This and driving her assortment of luxury sedans and sports cars.
Unlike the cars and roadways, Miquela was not beholden to trifle things like roads.
She could go anywhere. Whip in any direction.
Face whatever view she desired. One of her favorite things to do was speed up and down the length of Monaco, taking in the crowded architecture and wondering what it looked like one hundred, five hundred years ago.
Then she would veer off toward the southern coast of France, taking note of the rolling countryside and the Maritime Gendarmerie patrolling the coast for idiot billionaires and lost tourists in need of assistance.
And pirates. I always wanted there to be pirates.
Now Miquela was glad not to have to worry about pirates, but when she was a kid…
“This is amazing!” June cried, touching Miquela’s shoulder as she whipped the boat around not once, but twice, creating a centripetal force that made both of their stomachs lurch in excitement. “Where the hell are we?”
Miquela slowed down and looked to the shoreline. “That’s France right there.”
“Are we near Nice?” She said it the English way.
“Not quite. And it’s pronounced Niece.”
June leaned over and kissed Miquela on the cheek. “I’ve never had this much fun on a boat before. What else you got?”
What else? Miquela had enough to blow her mind from here until death!