A Real Mentor Pt.09

Amy naked, wrists and ankles bound to each corner of the bed, and Sarah leaning over her, teasing her, touching her, making her beg again and again and again for release, Amy promising her the world and more, anything, absolutely anything to please please please just let her cum...

"Your boarding pass please, madam."

Luisa came back to reality with a start, realising that she'd been day dreaming again... fantasising about what Amy was going to do with Sarah that night, the thoughts going round and round and getting more outlandish by the minute.

She blushed and smiled, replying in her accented English as she handed it over, "Sorry, thinking too much."

"No problem," came the reply, professional but friendly. "Have a good flight."

Luisa nodded and headed to board the plane, bound from London for Naples to take her to her latest modelling job in Amalfi.

Before she realised it she found her mind drifting again, imagining Amy and Sarah pleasuring each other at the same time, heads between each other's legs, bodies tensing, hands gripping at each other's thighs as they both got close, so close but not quite there...

It was funny, she thought, that she didn't even know what Sarah looked like, didn't know what her and Amy did together except for some brief mentions of a whole dominant submissive vibe and Amy's demonstration back in LA a couple of weeks before that she knew her way around the world of strap ons and restraints and who knew what else.

So for now, Sarah was played in her mind by another powerful, older businesswoman that Luisa knew, an agent in LA that Luisa had always had a bit of a crush on, not enough to do anything about it but enough to know it was there and to be open to something if the opportunity ever arose. And her mind ran free imagining what they were doing.

All of this distraction, all of this day dreaming because of having seen a couple of messages come up on Amy's phone that morning, messages from Sarah making it very clear that that night her and Amy had something intimate planned, something that she was clearly excited about.

Not a problem, not technically. Amy and Luisa were in love, but they were also in an open relationship... a necessity for both their lives, Amy with her thing with Sarah as well as, until recently, a long term boyfriend, while for Luisa there was, well, for want of a better word her compartments, complexity in spades, not forgetting the fact that the two women lived 5,000 miles apart, Luisa in LA and Amy in London.

Amy didn't know that Luisa knew that she was seeing Sarah later, but that was ok, within their relationship parameters. They had no obligation to tell each other. Luisa felt jealous, yes, but not an all consuming how dare you do this sort of jealousy. Well, maybe at first but that had soon abated as she had time to think about it.

More, she realised, it was jealousy that she couldn't be there too... she wanted to share her life with the woman she loved, and these fantasies that kept flooding into her mind had Luisa there, in the room, an interested observer. Maybe even a participant... she felt herself drifting again, imagining herself there in the room with them and stopped herself, forcing herself back into the moment.

And, of course, if she was genuinely jealous she'd also be a massive hypocrite. Because waiting in Amalfi was someone who had been very special to Luisa over the eight years of her professional modelling career, someone interwoven in the fabric of that time. Luisa's version of Amy's Sarah.

Alethea.

Luisa's kryptonite, her Greek goddess, the one woman that Luisa knew she could never, ever say no to. Never wanted to say no to. The one person who had been there at the outset of her career and was still there eight years on.

Amy's turn this time, Sarah waiting, obedient, submissive, on her hands and knees while Amy built the tension, walking around wearing a strap-on, a sordid, erotic image that Luisa knew well now from lived experience with Amy, before Amy positions herself behind Sarah, a fistful of Sarah's hair in one hand, her hip held by the other, Sarah moaning loudly as Amy slides into her...

Stop it, thought Luisa. Focus on the moment. Focus on what lies ahead, not what is happening in London.

Alethea.

It had been a surprise seeing her name on the call sheet, particularly so soon after she'd last seen Alethea just before Luisa had first met Amy. She hadn't been ready for that yet, for the overlap between whatever it was she had with Alethea and the woman she loved in Amy, the two people that stood above all others in her life.

Over the eight years of her modelling career, Luisa had perfected the art of compartmentalisation. It wasn't a strategy that she'd consciously developed. Rather it had evolved naturally as the only way to navigate the complex reality of her life in the modelling industry and the challenges of near constant travel and constant upheaval. Each aspect of her existence occupied its own separate space, walls between them thick and impermeable.

There was her professional compartment... the strategic and usually very short term arrangements with photographers, other models, and industry powerbrokers that had advanced her career. These relationships existed in a space where physical intimacy and professional advancement intertwined without emotional complication, but always, always nowadays in a way that placed a premium on a strong interpersonal chemistry and Luisa's personal pleasure too.

Then there was the compartment housing her casual relationships... the "not-boyfriends" as she sometimes called them. Carlos back in Mexico City until she moved to LA a year and a half ago. Later, Julian in LA. These men existed in a space of comfortable ambiguity, neither fully committed nor entirely casual, a halfway house for her emotional availability but always men around the fashion industry, men who helped her professionally.

Alethea occupied her own unique compartment... consuming, intoxicating, defying easy categorization. From that first night in Tulum when Luisa was eighteen, through their subsequent encounters over the years, Montana, Rio, Miami and the rest, Alethea had occupied a space unlike any other in Luisa's life. Not quite love, not merely desire, but something that transcended both, something that pulled Luisa back time and again with gravitational force.

And now there was Amy's compartment... terrifyingly different from the others, threatening to spill beyond its boundaries and flood every other carefully separated area of Luisa's life. What had begun as a chance encounter in an LA club had rapidly evolved into something Luisa hadn't experienced since before her modelling career began... genuine, all-consuming love.

As she settled back in her seat while the plane took off, she realised that that was what scared her most as the plane carried her toward Naples, toward Alethea. For the first time in eight years, Luisa's carefully constructed compartments were beginning to leak into each other. The walls were thinning. And she wasn't sure she knew how to exist without them.

With Amy, Luisa had found herself doing something unprecedented, imagining a future together, a shared life beyond the next photoshoot or fashion season. But after eight years of relationships that served her career, of connections maintained with professional precision, of her heart protected behind walls of pragmatic detachment, Luisa feared that she had forgotten, or perhaps had never learned, how to do this. How to be someone's partner rather than their arranged companion. How to love without strategic calculation, to love unconditionally.

Despite their agreement to keep things open, despite the rational understanding that their respective careers and circumstances made traditional monogamy impractical, Luisa knew that what she felt for Amy transcended these pragmatic arrangements.

Amy deserved better than a woman who didn't know how to love properly, who had spent nearly a decade perfecting the art of emotional distance. Amy deserved someone whose heart wasn't divided into compartments, someone who could give herself completely without reservation or hesitation.

Yet even knowing this, even loving Amy with an intensity that sometimes frightened her, Luisa knew with absolute certainty what would happen when she saw Alethea in Amalfi. It was inevitable, as certain as the laws of physics.

Alethea would look at her with those eyes that seemed to see straight through every defence, with that slight smile that told Luisa volumes, would touch her with those hands that knew exactly where and how, and Luisa would surrender completely... just as she had every time before.

Luisa closed her eyes, letting her head rest against the window as the plane continued its journey southward. She should have told Amy about Alethea. Should have explained this inexplicable pull, this one relationship that defied her otherwise impeccable control.

The open nature of their relationship meant Amy would likely understand intellectually, but how could Luisa explain the emotional gravity, the significance of Alethea to her when she barely understood it herself?

Instead, she'd kept silent, adding another layer to the compartmentalisation that had defined her adult life. Another secret, another division, another wall between who she was with Amy and who she would inevitably become the moment she saw Alethea again.

Somewhere down below, at the end of this journey, Alethea was waiting. And Luisa would go to her, as she always did.

The only question was whether the compartment that held Amy could survive what was about to happen. Or whether, at long last, the carefully constructed architecture of Luisa's emotional life was about to collapse entirely.

Realising that fantasising about Amy and Sarah together wasn't going to help, Luisa forced her mind to focus instead on how she'd got to this point, the experiences that had made her who she was.

She thought back to her first international photoshoot, to a luxury villa in Tulum, to the moment she first laid eyes on Alethea and felt her world irrevocably change, and how the journey that that had put her on ended with Amy.

8 years before

Tulum wasn't the centre of the world, Luisa knew that at the time, but for an 18 year old trying to make it in the modelling world, someone who'd never left Mexico, never stepped into a multi-day shoot where the photographers spoke several languages and the clothes were from labels straight off the pages of a magazine, it certainly felt like it.

It was her first big photoshoot, an opportunity that had come out of nowhere at the last minute when another model had dropped out and they needed someone urgently. Luisa must have fit the look, either that or her agent had been doing better work than Luisa gave her credit for, and before she knew what was happening she was saying goodbye to her parents, her boyfriend was dropping her off at the airport, she was sat on a plane with a car waiting for her when she arrived, her name held up on a board, a room in a good hotel, all expenses paid... it was one of those opportunities that comes up in life that you have to seize and make the most of, and that was what Luisa planned to do.

The photoshoot was at a luxury villa set back from the beach, gardens, a pool, large open rooms inside, she could see exactly why they'd chosen it. Walking around on that first morning after a night almost hiding in her room, too nervous and star struck to introduce herself to the other models that she knew and recognised from the magazine cuttings on her wall at home but had never met, never even got close to meeting, Luisa felt like she'd been transported into the pages. It felt right, it was where she wanted to be.

It was a hive of activity, make-up artists and stylists and creative who-knew-what-they-dids all rushing around, and when Luisa introduced herself, she was soon seated and being prepared.

Sat with her feet on the cool stone floor of what looked like the villa's dining room, she told herself that she would be professional, she would be focused, she would be the kind of woman who deserved to be there because, she told herself again and again, she did deserve to be there. Everyone had to start somewhere, and for Luisa this was going to kick start her whole career.

That worked, right up until she saw Alethea.

It was early on the second day of shooting, the air still cool from the night-time, the real heat of the day a few hours away yet. Luisa had stepped outside on to the villa's terrace in search of a cup of coffee, not quite used to being up so early, and there, standing at the edge of the pool, deep in conversation with one of the photographers, was Alethea.

Luisa recognised her immediately, had known she was going to be there from the lists she'd been given, but Alethea was different to everyone else... she was famous in a way that no one else there was, not necessarily to someone in the street but certainly in this world. Famous enough that she had clout, she had power. She was the star of this photoshoot, without a doubt, and with that came influence.

Luisa couldn't help but stare, seeing this person she'd admired in fashion magazines in the flesh. She was already dressed in her first costume of the day, or maybe her second or third, Luisa could only guess, wearing nothing but a simple black one-piece swimsuit and on oversized blue shirt that was unbuttoned and left one shoulder bare.

Alethea was tall, slim, a figure that Luisa knew well, her dark straight hair, almost black, falling to just below her shoulders and framing a stunningly beautiful face. Only a couple of years older than Luisa, Alethea by the age of 20 had had the exact career trajectory that Luisa aspired to, a rapid rise that meant her extra two years were a lifetime's difference in experience between them.

She was in intense conversation with the photographer, but it was purely professional. Serious but not confrontational, this was someone who took modelling as seriously as Luisa planned to. First impressions, Luisa was impressed.

The photographer nodded agreement and left, and Alethea turned, looking at Luisa who looked away instinctively before looking back again to see Alethea's eyes still on her. It was only a second or two before someone else came walking towards Alethea, calling her name, but it was enough.

Alethea had seen her and, Luisa fervently hoped, recognised her as a fellow professional.

A couple of hours later, the day starting to heat up, Luisa having gone through several different costumes already, she was taking a moment in the relative cool of the villa when she saw Alethea walking past.

No, not past. Towards her. Directly towards her. Seeking her out.

Luisa looked at her and smiled, trying to look open and welcoming, but Alethea simply said, "Come with me." Her voice was smooth and quiet yet confident, spoken in accented English, and Luisa was left in little doubt that Alethea was the one with the power here and Luisa wasn't.

Without really thinking about it Luisa followed her, walking barefoot across the stone of the terrace and round to the side of the villa where there was a low stone wall shaded by trees above.

Alethea produced a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and lit up. She leaned against the wall, resting on the top of it, and Luisa copied her. It felt surreal, both wearing swimwear with thin robes on top, leaning there with someone she'd only seen in a magazine.

After a couple of drags, Alethea looked at Luisa and said, "You're new." A statement, not a question, but she said nothing more, just looked at Luisa as she took another drag and exhaled, somehow making smoking look cool as hell.

Into the silence, Luisa said, "Yes." She wanted to say more but she felt star struck, tongue tied, so ended up saying nothing.

Alethea seemed to understand instinctively. Maybe she was used to that reaction. "You won't be for long," she replied. She held out the cigarette to Luisa, offering it, and Luisa leaned forward and took a drag while Alethea held it to her lips, not because she wanted to but because it didn't feel like she could say no.

She breathed in deeply then exhaled, not a smoker normally but certainly she'd experimented enough in her youth to not make a fool of herself by coughing. Alethea watched her and smiled in approval.

"You're local?"

"Tulum, no. But Mexico, yes. My first international photoshoot."

"You'll be fine. We all start somewhere." She paused. "If you need something, come and talk to me."

Luisa smiled but wasn't sure what to say, it feeling more and more surreal by the minute.

They stayed there in companionable silence, Alethea giving Luisa another couple of drags, then she stood up straight. "They'll be expecting us." She paused and looked at Luisa, looking like she was about to say something else, but then said nothing before she walked off.

From that moment Alethea took Luisa under her wing. Or maybe, in hindsight, under her control. Luisa had never been sure then or after where one ended and the other began.

On set, when she wasn't being photographed herself, Alethea would stay close, stepping in to correct her stance with a touch on her hips here and a hand on her shoulders there, guiding her chin with a light touch of her fingers on Luisa's jaw, quiet words of encouragement when Luisa was struggling to understand instinctively what the photographer wanted from her, coaching her and teaching her the professional tricks behind this type of modelling.

When they broke for meals or had a lull in the schedule Alethea would find her, inviting her to sit with her at the long table on the terrace, sometimes just the two of them locked in conversation, sometimes with others as well. Alethea seemed to get on particularly well with the other models and the stylists, and Luisa soon felt like she was part of the group.

When it was just the two of them, Alethea would try her broken Spanish on Luisa before invariably it reached her limit and they both broke down giggling, and sometimes she taught Luisa some of her native Greek as well, just a few words but enough for Luisa to greet her when she saw her, before they both switched to English as their common language.

Luisa felt welcomed, she felt visible, she felt like she belonged. Even when she realised that Alethea had singled her out for special attention, she didn't want it to stop... she genuinely liked Alethea, her relaxed, no nonsense approach to everything, her professionalism, and not least how much she'd helped and guided Luisa through what could have been a difficult week.

The others on the set noticed. Luisa didn't realise what it was at the time, but looking back years later when she'd been on too many photoshoots to count, she realised that she'd seen it since too.

It was the way the others glanced between each other, the knowing smiles from the makeup artists, the little well intentioned comments that meant nothing on the surface, the space that they all gave Alethea and Luisa as the week went on. It was like they'd all seen this story before, maybe not with Alethea but certainly with somebody like her, and they all knew how it ended.

It wasn't until the last night that anything actually happened.

They'd finished early that day, the final shots done and the villa packed up. The crew, the models, everyone headed into town to party, from what Luisa could tell all expenses paid.

It was an experience and a half for her and gave Luisa even more of a taste for the life of a model on the up than the days before. She had a great time, getting to know various people that she still worked with from time to time eight years later. Kind of like her induction into the world of fashion modelling. She liked it.

Not long after the sun had started to set, surprisingly early, Alethea came over to her. "How do you feel, your first big shoot finished?" she asked. She was smiling, her cheeks slightly flushed, a cocktail in her hand. Alethea was happy, and that made Luisa happy too.

Luisa took a sip of her drink and smiled. "It feels good, it's been such a surreal week. I hope I do more."

"I'm sure you will," replied Alethea. She paused, then leaned close to Luisa, close enough that only Luisa could hear what she said next, close enough that Luisa could smell her perfume. "Come back to the hotel."

Alethea leaned back and looked at Luisa, looking her in the eye, and the thought didn't even cross Luisa's mind of saying no. She simply nodded, and the two of them left, they didn't even make their excuses, they just slipped away into the fading light.

Alethea's hotel was only a couple of minutes' walk away, and they were soon stood at her door. Alethea swiped her key card and opened the door, holding it open for Luisa to go in. Once she'd walked through, she let the door shut then said, "Let's have a drink on the balcony." As so often that week, a statement rather than a question, and as so often that week Luisa didn't even think of saying no.

As she walked through to the balcony Luisa couldn't help marvelling at Alethea's room. It was large, really quite spacious, decorated tastefully with a tiled floor, large dark wood bed, sitting area, and glimpsed in the corner a large bathroom. Luisa had thought her own room was nice, but this was something else. The perks of being the star of the show she figured.

Alethea had slid the balcony door open and Luisa went outside, leaning on the railing and enjoying the sight of the waves breaking on the beach down below in the twilight. It was warm, it felt relaxed, like the whole world was just chilling out.

Walking out onto the balcony Alethea handed Luisa a large glass of white wine. "White wine was what was cold." A statement again, one that Luisa accepted without question.

Luisa stood facing Alethea as she took a long drink. Alethea took a long drink of her own, eyes focused on Luisa the whole time, then sat down in one of the chairs, Luisa copying her, her wine glass on the table.

"The parties get too much sometimes," Alethea said after a few minutes, breaking their companionable silence. "And always, always, there's some guy who wants to hit on you. Always. He's seen you all week, he confuses your professionalism with you liking him, he thinks he's got a shot." She looked at Luisa. "Thinks he's going to get to fuck a model. Don't do it. Unless you can get something out of him, then maybe. But otherwise, don't."

Luisa took another drink, then replied, "That sounds like you're speaking from experience?"

Alethea chuckled. "Absolutely. Go with it if you want to, or if it helps you, but never..." She paused and looked at Luisa intently. "Never because you think you have to." A smile played across her lips. "Us women need to look out for each other in this business."

Luisa nodded her understanding. "When's your next job?"

"Too soon. Next week, I'm over in New York for the month."

The conversation started to flow from there, talking about what Luisa had on the cards, Alethea giving her some ideas. She promised to give Luisa's details to her agent in LA, to see if he could help Luisa at all. Like the rest of the week, it was a good conversation but the power dynamic remained, 20 year old Alethea passing her wisdom on to Luisa, all of two years her junior.

Before they knew it, they'd drained their glasses and Alethea was topping them up. It was dark outside by then, just the sound of the waves and tropical insects floating up to them.

They spent a few more minutes in silence, then Alethea lit up a cigarette again and went to stand, glass of wine in her other hand, looking out from the balcony. Luisa watched her, and then she turned and offered the cigarette to Luisa.

Luisa got out of her chair and stood next to Alethea, letting her put the cigarette to Luisa's lips for her to breathe in deeply again, Alethea's little finger brushing Luisa's jaw almost imperceptibly. Alethea was watching her closely, not stood far away at all, the red glow of the cigarette reflected in her dark eyes as Luisa inhaled, Alethea's lips slightly parted.

Alethea seemed to reach a decision. She stubbed the cigarette out, flicking the butt out over the edge of the balcony, then drained her wine glass.

With a look at Luisa, a look she held for a few seconds, Alethea walked over to the balcony door and stopped, turning to face Luisa, one hand resting on the doorframe.

"Come to bed."

Three words. A statement not a question. Without even thinking, much as she had all week, Luisa obeyed and followed Alethea into the bedroom. It felt inevitable. And it probably was.

She left the door open, a light breeze blowing through carrying the sound of the waves and the smell of the sea into the room.

Alethea was stood next to the bed, her hands held out towards Luisa, her eyes focused on Luisa at the exclusion of everything else.

Luisa walked over to her slowly, taking the hands that Alethea had offered in her own, and as Luisa stepped closer, much closer, their fingers intertwined. Luisa felt a thrill run through her at Alethea's touch.

They stood, close, intimate, hands held in hands, looking at each other, for what felt to Luisa like an exquisite eternity, until Alethea moved one hand up to stroke a strand of loose hair away from Luisa's face, her hand staying there.

Then, slowly, ever so slowly, Alethea moved her head towards Luisa, and Luisa moved her head towards Alethea, and finally their lips met, a slow, sensuous, soft kiss, exploring each other's lips and nothing more. Yet.

Letting go of Luisa's other hand, Alethea leaned back and her hands skimmed Luisa's shoulders, sliding the straps of her dress down, peeling the dress away and letting it fall in a heap around Luisa's ankles, leaving her naked save for the thong she was wearing beneath.

It should have felt weird, Luisa thought afterwards, standing in front of Alethea with virtually nothing on, but it didn't, it really didn't. It felt natural, like it was something that had been preordained with their first meeting at the start of the week. And, she realised, it wasn't as if they hadn't already seen each other nearly naked many times throughout the week.

Alethea kissed her again then, slowly but deeply, more passionately than that first kiss, their arms wrapped around each other, hands feeling the muscles in each other's backs. One of Alethea's hands reached up to Luisa's hair, her fingers curling through it, while the other settled on her ass, sliding inside her thong and gently squeezing, making Luisa kiss her back harder.

Luisa didn't think, didn't hesitate. There was nothing in her mind, absolutely nothing, that wanted to do anything other than stand there, nearly naked, kissing Alethea. Nothing. The thought that she wasn't into women, that she had a boyfriend, that this might not be a good idea, none of that entered her mind. It felt like she was living in the moment, outside of time, and nothing else mattered.

"Lie down." Again, a statement, a command, not a question. Luisa gave a little smile to Alethea and climbed on to the bed, lying down with her head resting on the pillows.

Alethea stood at the foot, looking at Luisa, her eyes hungrily taking her in, while Luisa lay there and let her, liking that someone like Alethea could find her so appealing, so enthralling.

Holding eye contact with Luisa, Alethea reached behind her and unzipped her own dress, letting it fall down, leaving her stood in her lingerie, an expensive looking black lace set. She undid her bra and slid it off, then bent over and slid off her underwear too, before climbing on to the bed herself.

Alethea crawled over to Luisa, her hair hanging down, and from a kneeling position near to Luisa's legs she reached for her thong, slipping it off, Luisa lifting her legs to help, throwing it to one side.

As Luisa lowered her legs, Alethea guided them, parting them with gentle pressure, so that Alethea was kneeling between them. She reached her hand out, all while still staring into Luisa's eyes, and touched her. Softly, delicately, her fingers tracing the outline of Luisa's folds. Luisa gasped, not realising until then how much she'd wanted to be touched like this all week, feeling her body respond to Alethea's touch in a way she'd never responded to anyone before.

Alethea smiled, then leaned forward and replaced her fingers with her tongue, and Luisa couldn't help but moan, her back arching, as she felt electricity shoot through her, Alethea's tongue doing something very, very right.

The next half an hour was a revelation to Luisa, opening her eyes to what pleasure could really be. Alethea took her time, really took her time, using her tongue and her fingers to slowly, slowly build Luisa up then let her back down again, again and again, so that Luisa was in a state of ecstasy, feeling herself starting to lose control as she got closer and closer to a peak each time.

All of her sexual experience so far, all of it, had been about her partner's pleasure, about him getting what he wanted, usually pretty quickly, and her getting the scraps. She could probably count on the fingers of one hand how many times she'd genuinely orgasmed at the touch of someone else rather than on her own, and those times had been, well, they'd been alright. Nothing special. She got more out of it when she was on her own, that was for sure.

To have someone else, someone so gentle and calm and attentive, focused entirely on her pleasure was mind blowing, almost literally. She felt, as Alethea's tongue worked it's magic again, as if a wall in her head had come crashing down and an amazing world that she hadn't realised lay beyond it was out there, waiting.

When, finally, Alethea didn't let her fall back down again, instead pushing Luisa further and further, Luisa feeling her orgasm starting to cascade through her, a toe curling, back arching, sheet clutching, screaming orgasm, the only way she could describe it to herself afterwards was the sensation of coming apart under Alethea's touch, of completely losing control but happily so, safe in the knowledge that the person doing that to you was taking care of you.

After that first, earth shattering orgasm, Alethea put her back together again, gave Luisa time to recover, kissing her and caressing her gently, reassuring her, fetching them both another drink. And then, just as she had all week, Alethea taught her. First of all, she taught her how to touch another woman, how to translate what Luisa did to herself when she was on her own to another body, how to listen for the signs and change what she was doing when she needed to.

Luisa felt pride, a massive sense of pride, minutes later when she held Alethea up close, her lips and tongue on Alethea's breasts while her fingers played between Alethea's legs, marvelling at the feeling of another woman's arousal, and felt and heard Alethea's own orgasm shake through her.

And then later still, when Alethea taught her how to use her tongue and fingers together, the knowledge that she had made Alethea's back arch, made her call out words in her native Greek that Luisa didn't even understand, made Alethea call Luisa's name, all while Alethea's thighs tightened around her head as her orgasm peaked... well, if there was a word beyond pride then that was what it was.

That night Luisa lost count of how many times they each orgasmed, and of the variety of ways in which those orgasms came. It was a night of liberation, one where there was no ulterior motive, no agenda from either of them... Luisa was in no doubt, no doubt whatsoever that this was two people taking turns to give each other pleasure and nothing more. It was a moment, a single night carved out of time, an encounter that had no substance back in the real world.

For an 18 year old Luisa, new to this world of international fashion shoots, it was liberating.

It was magical.

It was three weeks after Tulum and the alarm clock showed 3.17am, it's green digits the only light in the bedroom in her parents' home that Luisa had slept in since she could remember. She stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep for the fourth night in a row.

All around her were familiar shapes... posters and a crucifix on the wall, the small desk where she'd studied, the clothes rail that was overflow for her wardrobe. But they all seemed alien, had done since she'd returned from Tulum. They belonged to someone simpler, someone who hadn't experienced what Luisa had three weeks before in Alethea's hotel room.

Luisa rolled onto her side, kicking her blanket off in the night time warmth in a desperate attempt to sleep. Her body remembered everything... Alethea's hands and words guiding her, showing her pleasure that she'd not known was possible, the way their bodies matched together so perfectly. The physical memory was so vivid, so clear, it haunted her waking moments and her dreams.

But... physical memory was one thing. The emotional side, that had left Luisa a deeply confused woman.

Who was she now? What did that night mean?

These questions circled through her mind relentlessly. She'd always assumed certain things about her life. She'd marry a local man, probably her current boyfriend Miguel, have children, live a life not so different from her mother's albeit hopefully after she'd had a few years to try to make something from her modelling career. These were such fundamental assumptions that they were almost axiomatic to Luisa. It was simply who someone with her upbringing in her town with her parents would become.

Alethea, in one night, had shattered all of that. It was as if the laws of nature itself had changed.

Was she a lesbian? That was the question that Luisa kept coming back to, and she had no frame of reference to guide her. The word itself felt strange in her mind, fraught with connotations that she barely understood. A Catholic upbringing and a Catholic education had been silent on the subject of homosexuality beyond its sinful nature, and as a result she had no exposure to that world. Everyone, literally everyone that she had grown up with was strictly heterosexual, and for someone in their community to be gay, whether a man or woman, was so out there as to be inconceivable. Luisa wondered if she was an aberration, the one in a thousand who slipped through the cracks.

Yet she had a boyfriend, Miguel. Kind and patient, he'd driven her to the airport to go to Tulum, collected her when she returned too, had been the model boyfriend since she'd returned. She'd been with him for nearly two years, enjoyed being with him, emotionally and physically. Not perhaps with the same electric intensity that she'd experienced with Alethea, but enough that she couldn't dismiss their connection as anything other than genuine.

But yet... but yet... if she wasn't a lesbian, how was it that all Luisa had been able to think about since returned from Tulum was Alethea and that incredible night with her?

Giving up on sleep, Luisa switched on her bedside lamp and pulled out her laptop, a gift from her parents intended for her to use when she eventually went to university as they desperately hoped she would. Opening a browser tab, her fingers hovered over the keyboard. What should she even search for?

Finally, she typed: 'Straight woman with boyfriend but had sex with woman'

The results were overwhelming and utterly unhelpful, a mix of pornography, relationship advice columns focused on cheating rather than sexuality, and forum posts from men fantasising about their girlfriends sleeping with other women. Nothing, not a single thing, that spoke to her fundamental question... was she a lesbian?

She tried again: 'Am I a lesbian quiz'

This returned more quizzes than she could count, all in various bright tones and casual language. She chose one at random, answering questions about celebrity crushes and whether she liked dungarees, to get the result of 'You might be bi-curious'. No shit, she thought, sighing in frustration.

A third attempt: 'How do you know if you're attracted to women?'

This was better, and she finally started to make some headway. Articles from LGBTQ+ websites, personal testimonies from women who'd come out, scientific analysis of sexuality as a spectrum rather than a binary classification... Luisa disappeared down the rabbit hole for hours, absorbing terminology that she'd never encountered before, perspectives she'd never considered, giving her new tools to understand what she'd experienced.

She read until dawn, engrossed, before she finally felt so tired that she couldn't help but sleep.

Her reading had left her with more new questions than answers, but one thing she was sure of by then... she was somewhere on that spectrum of sexuality that wasn't strictly heterosexual, not after the emotional intensity of that experience with Alethea. The big question, though, was where on that spectrum did she sit and what did it mean for her current relationship?

Over those weeks she heard nothing from Alethea, not that she expected to really, she'd known that what they did was a one night only sort of thing, but that didn't stop her from secretly hoping and, indeed, fantasising...

Luisa's career soon started to take off over the months that followed, in part down to something that the people on the Tulum shoot had seen in her, and also in part she knew down to Alethea's influence in the background. Despite no direct contact with her she'd come through on her promise of getting her LA agent to make contact with Luisa and, with representation there, the good jobs started to come in.

Luisa would eagerly await the call sheets for each photo shoot in the hope that Alethea's name would be on it. Still 18 and relatively naïve, Luisa couldn't have really put her finger on why other than maybe a vague hope that something would happen if she saw her, but when she looked back on it eight years later she realised that she had developed a good old fashioned crush on Alethea.

Luckily, in hindsight, they weren't booked to the same jobs throughout that time... luckily, because Luisa would have probably made a fool of herself, throwing herself at Alethea. And if there was one thing that Luisa had learned about Alethea over the years since it was that she wanted what she wasn't supposed to be able to have, not what was there on a plate for her.

As her professional life was on the up, so her personal life was heading in the opposite direction though, for several reasons.

To start with both her parents and Miguel couldn't hide their disappointment that she was starting to do well, so much so that when she was away modelling, a frequent occurrence by then, she was sure that they were talking to each other disapprovingly about her choices.

Her parents she wasn't surprised about, they'd always been deeply conservative and wanted her to get married young and become a local teacher, be an upstanding pillar of the community and their church, not chasing these high fashion dreams with what they presumably imagined were a group of undesirables and degenerates.

Miguel, though, surprised her. He'd been supportive of her modelling since they'd first met but now, she was finding, he was growing sceptical, making cynical comments about the industry and asking Luisa openly about whether she was doing the right thing pursuing it as a career.

For her part, Luisa was starting to wonder just a little whether Miguel, deep down, liked the idea of dating a model more than he liked the reality now that she was away a lot, and while they still had their moments she could feel that there was a distance growing between them and their lives.

But then also thrown into the mix was Luisa's own confusion as to what she was now. Was she a lesbian? Was she a straight woman who'd experimented as a one off? Was she something in the middle? She was clueless and hadn't found anything out really in the months since that sleepless night asking her laptop.

She knew that she still got pleasure from being with Miguel, although pleasure that didn't come remotely close to that first time that Alethea had touched her, the memory of which even months later left her breathless.

But when she was alone, when she let her thoughts wander and let her hands roam over her body, she didn't think about men, not any more. She thought about women, and not just Alethea... she imagined doing things with a variety of other women, some she knew, some she didn't, and found herself aching with desire for these unreachable women.

So... maybe just a phase? She'd read that that can happen. But if it was a phase, it was pretty all consuming.

It was a shoot in Cancun where it all came to a head, roughly six months after Tulum.

Again, no sign of Alethea on the call sheet.

Again, as had often been the case recently a difficult drive with Miguel to the airport, and a strained parting, one where she'd told him she loved him, out of a sense of duty as much as anything else, and he'd simply wished her a good time, his annoyance at her going away for work again clear to see.

Nadia caught her attention immediately when Luisa arrived on location. Brazilian, in her mid-twenties, enough of a name that Luisa knew who she was when she saw her, a stereotypically beautiful woman from that part of the world with the same confident ease in her own body that Alethea had. Luisa was drawn to her in a way that she couldn't rationally explain, something about the way that Nadia was so tactile with everyone, drawing them into her world with little touches. That and her eyes, dazzling green eyes in a deeply tanned face that held your attention when you talked to her.

Personality-wise she was the polar opposite of Alethea, warm with strangers as much as friends, treating everyone as her equal, the life and soul of the party by reputation.

At dinner that night Luisa used all of her tricks to sit next to Nadia, before laughing loudly, probably a little too loudly, at all her jokes, and mirroring her little touches, a not too subtle brush of the fingers as they both reached for the water jug, a hand resting on Nadia's forearm for a few seconds too long after confiding in her about something relatively trivial.

Luisa knew that she wasn't being subtle, but subtlety didn't seem necessary in this world that felt like it was a million miles from Aguascalientes. When the group moved to the hotel bar Luisa made sure that she was in Nadia's orbit, and before long they had a few moments alone.

Luisa didn't have to wait long.

"What to get out of here?" Nadia asked quietly but firmly, her accent making the words sound more seductive than they might otherwise have been, the expression on her face leaving little doubt that she didn't mean going for a drink somewhere else.

Luisa's heart raced as she nodded, realising as she did that this could be it... this could be the night that she works out whether she's a lesbian or Alethea was just a one off. She followed Nadia to the lift, and as the doors closed she silently slipped off her bracelet, a gift from Miguel for her 18th birthday, and tucked it away in a pocket, an act of compartmentalisation that would become so familiar to her over the years to come.

Nadia's room was nearly identical to Luisa's, generic luxury made personal only by the scattered belongings of a woman constantly traveling... expensive skincare arranged on the bathroom counter, a silk robe draped over a chair, a battered paperback on the nightstand.

When Nadia kissed Luisa it was confident, practised. Very definitely not Nadia's first time with a woman, that was for sure. Luisa responded eagerly, waiting for the electric current she felt with Alethea to surge through her. Nadia's hands moved to her waist, drawing her closer, and Luisa pressed against her, trying to accelerate things, to reach that point of no return where thought dissolved into pure sensation.

But something just wasn't clicking. The mechanics were there... her mouth was soft, her body warm against Luisa's, they were both doing everything right... but the chemistry was missing. When her hand slid beneath Luisa's shirt, cupped her breast, the touch felt pleasant but calculated, like they were both following a script they'd memorised but didn't fully believe in.

Still, they persisted. I'll see where this goes, thought Luisa, appreciating that as it was only her second time with another woman she still had plenty to learn. Maybe the magic happened later, maybe the art was in the foreplay.

They moved to the bed, clothing gradually discarded, and Luisa studied Nadia's body with genuine curiosity... different from Alethea's and different from Luisa's, more voluptuous, less toned, although this was all relative. Nadia was still a fashion model after all.

Luisa's mouth found Nadia's breast, her tongue circling Nadia's nipple, drawing a long, soft moan, erotic but also, Luisa couldn't help thinking, slightly exaggerated, slightly performative.

As they continued Luisa recognised the performance because she was doing it too, moaning at appropriate moments, arching into Nadia's touch in ways that Luisa had learned that men responded to. With a sinking feeling she realised that they were both, at least in part, acting. Both going through the motions that led to pleasure but without that genuine, all-consuming connection she'd experienced with Alethea.

When Nadia's hand slipped between Luisa's legs, her fingers finding the right spot and moving with practiced skill, she felt her body responding, the arousal undeniable. Without a doubt it was still fun for Luisa, even without the connection, but she longed for the emotional depth to go with it.

She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the physical, and Nadia's fingers were doing everything right, sensitive to Luisa's needs and her reaction, but instead of being lost in the pleasure Luisa found herself mentally directing the scene... tilting her head back performatively, letting out a long, shuddering moan that she only partially felt, making little gasps of encouragement at the right moments.

When Luisa finally came it felt good, undeniably good, but only good. Better than Miguel could manage, but about as good as Luisa could often achieve on her own and not even close to the earth shattering, soul shaking pleasure that Alethea had given her.

But still, she felt her back arching, genuinely, her hands uncontrollably grabbing at Nadia's body, a series of loud cries coming from her mouth, muffled by Nadia's lips kissing her messily. It was good. It was worth it.

Afterwards, out of a sense of obligation as much as anything, Luisa reciprocated. Moving down Nadia's body, she applied everything she'd learned from Alethea supplemented by everything she'd read online in the intervening period... tracing patterns with her tongue, using her fingers in tandem, paying close attention to how Nadia responded and adjusting accordingly.

Nadia came much quicker than Luisa had expected, noisily, performative again but seemingly genuine, her thighs tightening around Luisa's head, her hands pushing Luisa's tongue away when she couldn't take any more. Luisa felt a sense of satisfaction that she'd been able to draw that sort of response from Nadia without guidance, pleased that she seemed to know what to do with a woman now even though it was only Luisa's second time.

They lay beside each other after that, not touching, a careful distance between them as if they both sensed that the performance was over. They talked for a while, pleasant but superficial conversation talking about cities they'd both been to and mutual acquaintances in the industry. Only superficial topics, nothing of substance.

Around 2am Luisa made her excuses and left, citing an early call time in the morning, a perfunctory kiss at the door acknowledging what had happened between them but also, seemingly, that it was a one-time thing.

Over the rest of the shoot there was no awkwardness between them, on a personal level they were friendly, but there was no chance of a repeat performance, and Luisa had no desire for one.

She left Cancun to fly back home even more confused than before... if her encounter with Nadia had been amazing it would have told her something, if it had been terrible it would have told her something too, but instead it had been good. That was all... good.

So, she knew now that she enjoyed sleeping with a woman that wasn't Alethea, so she had learned something. But she also knew now that any old woman wouldn't do... obvious in hindsight, but something she just had to experience for herself to know.

It all fell apart with Miguel a couple of days after her return. Luisa had been quiet, preoccupied, and he could tell.

He confronted her, accused her of having another boyfriend, and despite her trying to explain to him that that wasn't how the world of modelling worked, that you didn't have the same people in each place, he wouldn't hear of it.

She came close, very close in the heat of a blazing row to telling him just how wrong he was, that she'd slept with two female models and was wondering if she was gay, but she held her tongue... partly out of fear for what he might do, not physically but emotionally, his conservative upbringing coming with an unhealthy dose of homophobia, and partly because it would be unfair to lay it on him that she'd slept with someone else.

In the end, they went their separate ways, it ending up clear to both of them that they'd grown too far apart, particularly when Luisa made it crystal clear that modelling was her profession and she wasn't going to settle down and be the good, dutiful wife that he expected any time soon.

Her parents, surprisingly, had been understanding, her father letting slip in a moment of candour that they'd had their doubts about Miguel and that Luisa could find better.

It was with their support and blessing that she made the difficult decision to move a few weeks later, renting an apartment in Mexico City to be closer to the heart of the fashion scene in Mexico.

And it was there, single and thrust into a much more happening, vibrant scene, that Luisa started to really discover herself.

Luisa had always known it, really, but moving to the big city hit home that as a model making good progress in the industry it really, really wasn't hard to find someone to sleep with. Obvious, really, in hindsight, but as Luisa neared 19 years old it was a significant realisation, that and the fact that the real challenge was being discerning, that if you're a 10 out of 10 yourself you can probably restrict yourself to other 10s and still have a good time.

For the next few months Luisa had a lot of fun... a lot. It was her wild period, when she let herself go and went with the situations she found herself in, dating a string of men but, funnily enough, not women but never anyone for long enough to call it a relationship.

Looking back, Luisa realised that it was if she was trying to make up for the lost time from having dated Miguel for years, but also trying to replace him somehow, trying to recapture what she'd had with him. You could even call it a few months of her rebounding.

But, after several months, she looked at herself in the mirror one day and realised that it wasn't giving her what she needed... that with none of the men did she have that sort of electric connection that she still craved.

On her next photoshoot, in Puerto Rico, she went with the intention of hooking up with another female model, to find that spark, assuming of course that any of the other models were looking for something similar.

Daniela... different from Nadia, different from Alethea, an Argentine model with an edgy look, sharp cheekbones and a sharper tongue. Her reputation on set preceded her, difficult but worth it for the camera, demanding with photographers and intimidating to newer models.

Something about her intensity drew Luisa in... maybe, she realised at the time, what had been missing since Alethea was the power dynamic, the sense of being overwhelmed that had characterised her night with Alethea.

Daniela didn't wait for Luisa to make a move. After the dinner on the final night, in a hot, sweaty, crowded nightclub, she corned her by the bar, her body crowding Luisa's against the counter in a way that felt half threatening and half thrilling.

"I've seen you watching me," she said up close into Luisa's ear. "Your room or mine?"

Luisa felt like her directness should have excited her, but something in her tone or her stance set of warning bells that Luisa chose to ignore. "Mine," she replied, downing her drink and immediately wishing she hadn't, the buzz of the sudden hit of alcohol hitting her hard.

Back in Luisa's room there was no pretence of conversation, no gradual build-up of tension. Daniela pushed her against the door the moment it closed, her mouth on Luisa's aggressive and demanding. Her hands weren't gentle, gripping Luisa rather than caressing, making Luisa feel like she was a possession being claimed rather than a person being desired, but through the fog of alcohol she went with it.

When Daniela pushed Luisa towards the bed, when she unfastened Luisa's dress with quick, efficient movements, Luisa realised that she'd miscalculated, that this wasn't about mutual pleasure or mutual use... it was about Daniela's control, just like she had been on the shoot in recent days.

"Take this off," Daniela commanded, tugging at Luisa's underwear, and Luisa complied, hoping that obeying might lead to the electric, passionate encounter that she was so desperate for, wondering whether that power dynamic was what had made her night with Alethea so electric.

Daniela stood and then, pushing Luisa back on to the bed she climbed on to the bed herself, still clothed, and straddled Luisa's face, lifting her dress and pulling her underwear to one side. Without asking she lowered herself and Luisa, despite a moment of hesitation, did what she wanted, using her tongue to pleasure Daniela while her hands gripped Daniela's thighs.

"Like I thought," said Daniela after a few minutes. "You Mexican models are so eager to please." Luisa felt her cheeks burn in embarrassment, felt any residual arousal drop right away, being used by Daniela as her sex toy, just another Mexican of many it seemed. There was zero connection, zero passion. Daniela wanted an orgasm and Luisa was who was close at hand.

She did her best regardless, touching Daniela with her tongue, gifting her pleasure, and after a few more minutes she could tell it was working, Daniela starting to lightly grind herself against Luisa's tongue, her arousal making a mess of Luisa's lips and chin. In another situation, in another context, Luisa would have loved it, would have felt so naughty doing something so new, stripped naked as she was, but not the cold, clinical way that Daniela had approached it.

Daniela came loudly, riding Luisa's tongue, but then she was done, climbing off and immediately checking her phone that she'd left across the room. Luisa lay there, naked, watching her, expecting something.

After a couple of minutes, Daniela looked over at her. "Do you want me to...?" She left it hanging.

Never in Luisa's life had she slept with someone and got such an unenthusiastic offer of pleasure. Regardless, she was tempted briefly to say yes anyway, to see what Daniela could do. She was clearly experienced and might have been able to teach Luisa something. But, in all honesty, Luisa was tired and was nowhere near aroused.

"No, that's ok," Luisa replied. "You're leaving?"

Daniela looked back at her with surprise. "Leaving? No." She walked to the minibar and helped herself to a small bottle of vodka, not bothering to offer one to Luisa. "I'll stay here tonight. I told the assistant I wouldn't be in my room."

Luisa felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. This wasn't what she'd imagined when she'd invited Daniela back. She'd expected a passionate night, perhaps, or at worst a quick encounter followed by an awkward goodbye. Not this presumptuous claim on her space, her bed, her night.

"I have an early call time tomorrow," Luisa tried, her voice sounding weak even to her own ears.

Daniela shrugged, unconcerned. "So sleep." She stripped off her dress and underwear, revealing her slim, toned body, and climbed into the bed beside Luisa, still scrolling through her phone. "Turn off the light if you want."

Luisa reached over and switched off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness save for the blue glow of Daniela's phone. She lay stiffly on her side, as far to the edge of the bed as she could manage, facing Daniela and feeling like an intruder in her own space.

Just as she was drifting into an uneasy sleep, Daniela's phone went away and her hand slid over Luisa's hip. For a moment, Luisa thought maybe she'd misjudged, that Daniela was going to reciprocate after all. But the hand continued upward, casually dragging past her breasts, to rest on her shoulder, pushing her gently but firmly downward.

"I'm still wired from the club," Daniela whispered, though there was no tenderness in it. "Help me relax again."

Luisa hesitated, confusion and discomfort battling with her desire to be accommodating, to not create a scene. "I'm really tired, Daniela."

"It won't take long," Daniela replied, her hand now on the back of Luisa's head, guiding her down beneath the sheets. "You were good before. Just once more."

Once more became twice more in the early hours, then a third time shortly before dawn. Each time, Daniela would wake Luisa with insistent hands, positioning her how she wanted, taking her pleasure with no concern for Luisa's comfort or desire. Each time Luisa complied, too tired and demoralised to argue, feeling increasingly hollow with each encounter.

By morning, Luisa was exhausted. She watched silently as Daniela dressed, applied her makeup using Luisa's cosmetics without asking, and slipped her feet into her expensive heels.

"You're not bad," Daniela said, finally acknowledging Luisa directly as she prepared to leave. She leaned down and patted Luisa's cheek, as one might praise a pet. "We should do this again on the next shoot."

Luisa just lay there for a while after Daniela left, feeling philosophical. Not the first time she'd performed oral sex on someone only to get nothing in return, unfortunately not the first time either that she'd had someone overstay their welcome... but she'd figured women were different. It turned out maybe not.

So, a new experience at least... bad sex and a night to forget with another woman.

For the next year work took over, her career building nicely. While Luisa didn't have much exposure yet outside the region, her work in the US coming through but slower than she'd have liked, she was building a name for herself locally, without a doubt.

It had got to the point by then that she would be the main name on some of the smaller shoots that she went on, something that she was pleased with at the age of just 19.

Throughout that year she had little time for much else, and certainly no time for relationships. Not that there weren't the occasional nights but they were few and far between... a model her age from Canada, she was sweet but innocent, experimenting herself with how the world of modelling worked, a night of fun but nothing special... a photographer from the US, good looking enough, a man that Luisa said yes to not because she wanted but because she was worried what he might do to her fledgling career in the US if she said no... a footballer playing in the Mexican Liga, she knew she was a trophy conquest for him, but she enjoyed herself regardless... an Australian fashion influencer turned model, visiting Mexico City, she had a body to die for, giving Luisa an enjoyable weekend although it was Luisa's turn to be the experienced one, almost like the blind leading the blind.

There were others as well, but nothing significant. Nothing remotely resembling a relationship.

And still no sign of Alethea, nearly two years on from Tulum. Alethea still haunted her dreams and her fantasies, that night of indescribable pleasure still dominated her thoughts, but Luisa was starting to wonder if she might never see Alethea again, realising that she needed to move on.

As she turned 20 she was happy with her career but knew that she needed something to accelerate it more, to be able to break out of the local market, while she was just as confused about her sexuality as she'd been when she first got back from Tulum... sometimes she felt quite straight, sometimes she felt quite lesbian, she really didn't know what she was still.

In the space of a month though two encounters happened, she met two separate people, and it all changed, her career, her understanding of her sexuality, and how the two were intertwined. One of those pivotal periods of life that set you on a path that defines your future.

"Henri Devereaux wants you for his winter campaign. Exclusive. In Cartagena." The call from her agent had sent a thrill through Luisa, not just for the professional opportunity but for what she'd heard on the grapevine about Henri himself. His reputation was complex... brilliant, demanding, in his early fifties at the peak of his profession, and known for developing unusually close relationships with select models. The gossip had left Luisa in no doubt as to what these close relationships often entailed, but also how much those models had benefited professionally from those close relationships. A word in the right ear from Henri could open doors that could take years to get through otherwise.

Luisa approached the shoot professionally, with her eyes wide open. First and foremost, she knew that she had to bring her A-game, that Henri would have little patience for her being anything other than 100% professional. But also she was clear with herself on the benefits that could come from establishing a close relationship with Henri... so far in her career she'd slept with several men in positions of power in the industry because she felt she had to, that if she didn't they might harm her career, and it was the one aspect out of everything that she wasn't proud of.

Henri was different. If something happened with him it would be under the implicit understanding that doing so would find his favour, would further her career, not that saying no would hinder her at all. There was a cost, yes, but there was a benefit, and she resolved to keep an open mind and see where it took her. At twenty she was no longer the naïve girl who had stumbled wide-eyed into the shoot in Tulum, but becoming a more hard-nosed professional.

The first day of shooting on location in an old Cartagena mansion with Henri unfolded exactly as Luisa had expected... professionally demanding yet creatively stimulating. Unlike the other photographers she'd worked with over the past two years, Henri took his time between shots to discuss his vision, to ask about her background, to express interest in her as more than just a body to position within his frame.

"Tomorrow," he told her as they wrapped up the commercial shots for the day, his French accent making the simple statement sound like something more, like a promise, "when we are finished we move beyond what the client requires to what art demands. Be prepared for something more... exploratory."

In her hotel room, she considered her options with a coolness that would have been impossible before Tulum, before the years of questioning and exploration that had followed. If Henri showed interest beyond the professional, how would she respond? The question wasn't whether such an offer might emerge, but what her answer would serve.

She analysed the situation methodically, weighing potential benefits against potential costs. Henri Devereaux's favour wasn't merely another connection in her growing network... it represented a potential entry into the world of North American and possibly even European fashion that remained largely closed to Latin American models outside Brazil. His photographs in a portfolio opened doors that might otherwise remain shut for years. His recommendation to the right people could accelerate her career beyond what her agents in Mexico City and LA could do.

The potential costs were equally clear... a night of her time, the complexity of navigating power dynamics with someone who could affect her career, the lingering questions about who she was and what she wanted that had haunted her since Tulum. Though she'd not been shy in experimenting since Tulum, she still lacked the clarity that she looked for. Perhaps a different experience would offer different insights.

By morning, Luisa had reached no firm decision but had resolved to remain alert to the opportunities and implications as they came up. She wouldn't pursue something, but at the same time she wouldn't avoid whatever direction the day went in unless it worried her. She would simply observe and choose based on what best served her own interest, rather than anyone else's expectations.

The second day's shoot began conventionally enough... more commercial shots for the campaign, nothing pushing boundaries. But by mid-afternoon, as she had expected, the dynamic shifted.

"We've got what the client needs," Henri announced, dismissing the stylist and assistants. "The rest of today is for the special portfolio." He paused, then seemed to think. "The light is better in my hotel suite. Let's relocate there."

Luisa felt her heart race a little. She could say no at this point, she could say no at any point... the reputation was that Henri was many things but certainly not a monster. But she didn't want to, she wanted to see where this might go.

"Ok," she replied, wanting to make it clear that this was her decision as much as his.

In the ten minute taxi ride to his hotel she sat next to him, answering his questions about her career. It was all professional, genuinely so.

Once they reached his suite she had to agree that he was right, the late afternoon light was perfect, shining in through large windows and filling the high ceilinged, spacious living room with a golden glow. She smiled to herself, realising that if this was truly a lengthy seduction on Henri's part he was doing it well, comingling it with the professional pretext to be there perfectly.

"Let's start with what you're wearing," Henri said, circling her slowly, the camera capturing unprompted moments. When he showed her the shots, Luisa stood there is a casual white shirt half tucked into her tan coloured shorts she had to admit that Henri had genuine talent. They were some of the best shots of her that she'd seen, really capturing the real Luisa.

After a few minutes, he then said, "I'd like to try something. Just the shirt, nothing else." He paused, seemingly sensing slight hesitation on her part. "You can change in the bedroom if you'd like." He smiled, as if reading her mind. "I'll stay out here, don't worry."

The request wasn't unusual in high fashion. Luisa had done lingerie campaigns, implied nudes, all of that sort of thing, and she was comfortable wearing very little or nothing in front of strangers for the sake of her profession. But the context made it significant... just the two of them, no one else there, no official purpose beyond Henri's special portfolio.

Luisa thought for a moment. "One question first... the special portfolio. Is that for you or for me?"

"Completely for you. I'll give you the memory cards when you leave. Yours to do what you wish with."

She smiled, appreciating the clarity. "Ok." This was completely different to the other situations she'd been in in the past, this felt right. It felt like something she'd like to do. This moment, this decision to continue, was deliberate on her part. Not through naivete or pressure or fear of the consequences of saying no, but from a clear eyed assessment of the potential benefits versus the potential costs.

Luisa went into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her, and changed, taking off her clothes and underwear, folding them neatly on the side, then pulling the shirt back on, the length of the shirt enough to go around a third of the way down her thighs. She buttoned it up again, leaving the top four buttons undone.

When she emerged, the shirt hanging open enough to reveal the curve of her breasts without fully exposing them, Henri's expression shifted almost imperceptibly... professional assessment mingled with personal appreciation she thought.

"Perfect," he murmured, directing her to a velvet chaise by the window. "Sit here. Let the light sculpt you."

For the next hour he photographed her in increasingly intimate poses... her shirt slipped further open, her legs arranged in ways that showed more. Nothing obscene, nothing pornographic, but certainly each shot building on the last, pushing boundaries incrementally, giving Luisa the chance to object if she wanted. She didn't. Each pose became a tacit agreement to take things further.

Henri paused occasionally to show her some of the images on his camera's display, his body close to hers as they reviewed them together. "Beautiful," he said, and he was right... the photos were stunning, capturing Luisa's vulnerability and strength in a way that nobody else had ever done before.

"I think we can go deeper though," he continued, changing lens on his camera. "Most photographers capture only the surface... I'm interested in what lies beneath."

His words resonated with Luisa more than he could know. For two years now, she had been questioning what lay beneath her own carefully constructed exterior... the successful model, the good Mexican daughter, the heterosexual young woman with a predictable future. What truths about herself remained undiscovered?

"The shirt is still a barrier," he said, returning to photograph her. "A costume. For truly transcendent work, we need to move beyond artifice."

The statement hung between them... not quite a request, not yet a proposition, but a clear sign of where this might lead.

"What exactly do you have in mind?" Luisa asked, her voice steady despite the racing she felt in her chest.

"Nude studies," he said simply. "The human form without distraction. Your bone structure, the interplay of shadow and skin... it could be extraordinary."

Luisa considered his request, weighing the artistic merit against his unspoken intentions. She could tell that both genuinely existed simultaneously... Henri genuinely wanted to take nude photos for her special portfolio but also, she could tell for certain, he wanted her. She also, to her surprise, realised that neither aspect was unappealing to her either, the dual purpose making the situation complex in a way that simple exploitation of their power dynamics could not.

"Alright," she agreed, meeting his gaze directly. "For the special portfolio."

She stood and unbuttoned the shirt completely, letting it fall open. Henri watched with the focused attention that made him exceptional at his craft... seeing detail, appreciating her form. When she slipped the shirt off entirely, standing naked in the warm early evening light, his expression remained composed although she could see a slight quickening of his breath.

"Magnificent," he said, reaching for his camera. "On the chaise again, please. Reclined, one arm above your head."

For another half an hour he photographed her nude, directing with the same professional precision he'd brought to the commercial shots earlier. The lens created temporary distance, keeping the pretence that this was purely artistic. Luisa posed as directed, finding freedom in the performance... this wasn't really her exposed, but a character she embodied, a form she lent to Henri's artistic vision.

When he stopped to change memory cards, Luisa noticed him glance toward the adjoining bedroom, visible through the half open door. The pause created a moment of decision for Luisa... to continue this progression or to draw a line between professional nudity and personal engagement. It was decision time.

Luisa thought of the men and women she'd been with since Tulum and since she'd split up with Miguel, a variety of encounters each of which had taught her something about what her body liked and didn't like, about her desires and turn-offs. She was experienced now in a way that she hadn't been before, but none of those experiences had provided the clarity she sought about her fundamental identity. Perhaps a different experience would offer different insights.

She thought too of the career implications... of doors that might open or remain closed based on her decision in that moment. Of the portfolio Henri could create for her, of the connections he could facilitate, of the opportunities that might follow.

Most importantly, she recognized her own agency in this moment... that whatever came next would be her choice rather than his demand. This wasn't the naïve girl from Aguascalientes being manipulated. This was a professional model making a calculated decision about her career and her exploration of herself.

When Henri returned his attention to her, when his eyes met hers with a question that wasn't quite voiced, Luisa made her decision.

"Would you like to continue this in there?" she asked, nodding toward the bedroom, claiming the agency of suggesting rather than merely acquiescing. Surprise flickered across his face, quickly replaced by appreciation.

"I would," he said simply.

He held out his hand, and she took it, allowing him to lead her into the adjoining room with its large four-poster bed. The photography equipment came with them... his camera placed carefully on a bedside table, a reminder that the artistic pretext remained available if either wished to maintain it.

As they reached the bed, Henri paused, his hands moving to cup her face with surprising gentleness. "You're extraordinary," he murmured, fingers tracing her cheekbone. "So different from the others."

The line was practiced, Luisa was certain, yet the delivery in his French accent made it momentarily convincing. His touch was hesitant enough to keep the illusion that this wasn't predetermined, that they were discovering something unexpected together.

When he leaned in to kiss her, she responded with calculated enthusiasm... enough to encourage him without seeming desperate, enough to suggest genuine interest without relinquishing control. His kiss was skilled, practiced, confident in a way that spoke of years of experience. Different from the men and women she'd been with, not as soft as the women, but more attentive and sensual than the younger men.

She unbuttoned his shirt, then undid his trousers, letting his clothing fall away, but all the time Luisa kept a dual awareness. Part of her stayed an analytical observer, maintaining her agency through conscious choice, focused on the role that she needed to play to fulfil her part of this arrangement. The other part, though, she allowed to experience the physical sensations, to be in the moment.

Henri's hands explored her body with the same attention to detail that he brought to his photography... finding angles, contours, responses that others might miss. When his mouth traced a path from her neck to her breast, when his tongue circled her nipple with precise pressure, Luisa permitted herself to respond authentically rather than performatively. The gasp that escaped her wasn't calculated, wasn't for his benefit, but a genuine reaction to his skilled touch.

This was different from being with women, she noted... less intuitive perhaps, but no less pleasurable when done with skill and attention. Different too from her experiences with men, who approached sex with enthusiasm but limited understanding of female pleasure.

When Henri's mouth continued its journey downward, tracing the curve of her stomach, the jut of her hipbone, Luisa felt anticipation building... not just performed for his benefit, but genuine curiosity about what sensations might follow. As he settled between her thighs, as his tongue found its target with deliberate precision, the dual awareness continued... her analytical mind noting technique, her physical body responding without reservation.

The first orgasm caught her by surprise... both in its arrival and its intensity. She had expected to perform pleasure, to offer the practiced sounds and expressions she'd perfected when necessary. Instead, his tongue found a rhythm that circumvented her control, sending unexpected waves of pleasure crashing through her. The sounds she made were unplanned, her body's response authentic despite her mind's ongoing analysis, and the way that her back arched and her hands gripped at the sheets were entirely authentic.

Henri looked up with undisguised satisfaction, his ego clearly gratified by her response. He reached for his camera on the bedside table, capturing her flushed face, her still trembling body. "Beautiful," he murmured, and for once Luisa didn't think he was using flattery as manipulation... he genuinely saw beauty in her undone state.

When he set the camera aside, when he moved up her body to kiss her deeply, she tasted herself on his lips. His arousal was evident against her thigh, but he didn't rush, continuing to touch and tease until she was ready for him again, until she was pulling him toward her with unmistakable intent, until it was her turn to kiss down his body and take him in her mouth, giving him back the gift of pleasure that he'd already given to her.

Later, when she found herself straddling him, riding him, setting a pace that brought his hands to grip her hips with unexpected intensity, Luisa discovered power in his surrender to sensation. Henri Devereaux, who controlled every aspect of his artistic empire, momentarily relinquished control in the grip of physical pleasure. She watched his face transform, cataloguing his responses as he had catalogued hers through his lens, finding satisfaction in this reversal of their earlier dynamic.

"Look at me," she instructed, surprising them both with the authority in her voice. His eyes opened, meeting hers as she rolled her hips in a way that sent sparks along her spine. Something shifted in the dynamic between them... no longer just artist and muse, photographer and model, but two bodies seeking mutual satisfaction.

The second orgasm built more slowly than the first, a gradual tightening that she felt approaching like distant thunder. When it broke, it was deeper, more consuming. Her head fell back, her entire body shuddering, inner muscles clenching around him. The sound that escaped her throat was almost animal, beyond language or performance, triggering his own orgasm in turn. For a moment, as pleasure overwhelmed them both, the power differential between them seemed to dissolve. They were simply two people consuming and being consumed by pure pleasure.

As Luisa lay back down next to Henri, recovering she found herself grinning. Henri reached for his camera and captured it, Luisa naked, sweaty, hair a mess, but a grin of sheer joy all over her face.

Putting the camera back down, he asked, "Why the grin?"

"Because..." she replied, then leaned over to kiss him. Because she knew why she was grinning, but how could she possibly explain to him without explaining the last two years? How she'd been searching for that electric connection, that feeling of sheer pleasurable elation, for two long years, ever since Tulum and since Alethea? That she'd finally found it not with another woman, not with a man her own age, but with a man thirty years older than her that she was sleeping with for professional rather than personal reasons?

After that, it was like a barrier had come down between them, the two of them sharing a night together as equals, almost as lovers, not as a photographer leveraging his professional position and a model looking to help her career. Even though, underneath it all, that was the reality.

They talked for an age, comfortable in each other's naked presence, mainly about the industry and both of their experiences, touching on people that they knew in common.

And then, without even realising it, they were both kissing again, their bodies pressed up together, until Henri guided her hands above her head, holding her wrists in one of his as his mouth mapped a meandering path across her body. The restraint, minimal as it was, triggered an unexpected response in Luisa... a surge of heat that had her pressing upward against his touch. It was nothing like Daniela's fiercely dominant taking of what she wanted from Luisa, nothing like the handful of men who'd tried something similar before, and all because of the electricity between them... she wanted him to hold her like that, wanted nothing more than to be his for the night.

"You like that," he observed, lifting his mouth from her nipple, a question that wasn't a question.

"Yes," she admitted, the word barely audible.

He maintained that gentle restraint as his free hand and mouth worked in tandem, building sensation layer by layer. When he released her wrists, he guided her hands between her own legs while he watched with undisguised fascination, encouraging her to touch herself.

As he reached for his camera, she should have felt exposed, objectified. Instead, she felt powerful... a woman comfortable enough with her own pleasure to claim it without shame. The orgasm was different to those that had come before, self-directed but shared, his gaze and the gaze of his camera as intense as anything his hands or lips could have done.

When he showed her the photos afterwards she was stunned, never having seen herself in the throes of pleasure before, the way he captured her trying but failing to maintain control and composure, the way her head was thrown back, the way one hand as she came was between her legs while the other played with her breast... he might have been a skilled lover, but he was an artist first and foremost.

In the early morning light, as she dressed to return to her own hotel, Henri watched from the bed with the same aesthetic appreciation he brought to his professional work. He reached for his camera one last time, capturing her in the process of leaving, half-dressed, hair a mess, but happy, clearly happy.

"Beautiful," he said again, and this time she smiled back.

She left, memory cards in hand, photos which she'd kept ever since, her special portfolio tucked safely away... a memory of a special night as well, one that she would never forget.

Walking back to her hotel, Luisa felt a strange combination of satisfaction and detachment. What had happened with Henri had been both transactional and genuine, both strategic choice and authentic experience. The complexity didn't trouble her, but it did surprise her, the idea that she could find that insane connection as part of furthering her career new to her... she'd always thought it was either or, not both.

What mattered was that she had entered with eyes wide open and left with what she sought: pleasure, yes, but also advancement, connection, opportunity. In this industry where beauty was currency and youth was temporary, she'd made a sound investment. Not because she was manipulated or coerced, but because she chose deliberately, weighing costs and benefits with shrewd calculation. She had kept her agency.

There was something else too, something unexpected. The physical pleasure she'd found with Henri hadn't clarified her questions about her sexuality as she'd hoped... if anything, it had complicated them further. The categories she'd been trying to fit herself into, whether straight, lesbian, or bisexual, seemed increasingly inadequate to describe the complexity of her desires and responses.

Perhaps for Luisa that was the most valuable insight of all from that night, that she didn't need a label or confine herself to other people's categorisations. She could simply be herself, responding to individuals rather than categories, making decisions based on her own complex criteria rather than what the world expected of her.

Later, back in her hotel room as she showered, Luisa felt herself evolving... not the naïve girl from Aguascalientes, not the confused young woman after Tulum, not the model trying to find her feet and sometimes failing in the Mexico City scene, but someone more complex, more calculated, more comfortable with ambiguity. Someone who made choices with clear eyes, who took what she wanted and gave what she chose, who navigated power dynamics rather than being subject to them.

It wasn't who she had expected to become, but perhaps it was who she needed to be to survive and thrive in this industry, in this life she had chosen over the simpler path that had been laid out for her. Not good or bad, not right or wrong... simply Luisa, making her way through a complex world with whatever tools and insights she could gather.

And then there was her second encounter, a few weeks after Henri, that cemented for Luisa her identity and went a long way towards defining the woman that was to fall in love with Amy six years later.

It was entirely unexpected.

Her encounter with Henri had given Luisa a sense of purpose and clarity, an understanding that it wasn't the labels, it was the individual person underneath that drove her desires. But in her subconscious, that person was either a model or someone who could be a model, a beautiful person that she could be insanely physically attracted to. Deep down, Luisa assumed that that was a prerequisite.

But then she met Gabriela.

Gabriela was a lighting technician on a shoot in Oaxaca for a Mexican jewellery brand. Unlike the models and photographers Luisa typically worked with, Gabriela existed on the periphery of fashion's glamour, one of the essential but often invisible people who made photoshoots possible.

Perhaps that was what drew Luisa to her... the way Gabriela moved through the industry without being defined by it. She was thirty five, several inches shorter than Luisa, with a sturdy, practical build shaped by years of carrying heavy equipment rather than the calculated deprivation that sculpted models' bodies. Her face was pleasant rather than striking, warm brown eyes that crinkled at the corners when she smiled, a slightly crooked nose that suggested it had been broken once and healed without medical treatment, lips that were neither full nor thin but perfectly proportioned to her face.

Gabriela wore her dark hair cropped short, more for convenience than style, and dressed for comfort in well-worn jeans and simple t-shirts that revealed arms corded with lean muscle and covered in tattoos. She wore no makeup, no jewellery except a simple silver watch, nothing to call attention to herself. In a world where everyone was constantly performing, Gabriela simply was.

During breaks, while models and photographers clustered in their respective groups, Gabriela would sit slightly apart, reading an old paperback book or sketching in a small notebook. There was something refreshing about her complete lack of interest in being seen or admired, her focus on the work rather than the attention it might bring. She was there to do her job and nothing more.

On the third day, when rain delayed the outdoor shoot, Luisa wandered over to where Gabriela was sitting under a canvas awning, curious about what she was drawing.

"Nothing special," Gabriela said, showing Luisa a page filled with sketches of the crew in various poses... a makeup artist checking her phone, an assistant napping in a chair. And in the corner was a small sketch of Luisa herself, captured in an unguarded moment.

"You're good," said Luisa, genuinely impressed. "Have you studied art?"

Gabriela laughed. "No, not formally. But I've been drawing since I was young, a sort of hobby." She looked around and then leaned closer to confide in Luisa. "It's all that keeps me sane on these jobs..."

Their conversation flowed easily from there, picked up again at lunch and again when they had another rain delay late afternoon. It was so refreshing for Luisa to talk to someone without an agenda, with no politics or positioning or showing off as there was with other models. Gabriela spoke about lighting in that way that someone who genuinely loves their job talks, her eyes lighting up as she explained exactly why she'd arranged the lighting for the indoor part of the shoot as she had.

"It's the light that tells the story," Gabriela explained. "Without the right light, everything else is just an object." Luisa thought back to Henri's suite a few weeks before and couldn't help but agree... regardless of everything else, the light in his suite had transformed the special portfolio he'd taken for her into something really remarkable.

Two days later, when the shoot ended, Luisa found herself reluctant to say goodbye. On impulse she sought Gabriela out and suggested dinner. "Just to continue our conversations," Luisa had added, suddenly aware of how the invitation might sound.

Gabriela smiled, a knowing smile that said that she understood exactly what Luisa meant, even if Luisa herself hadn't quite understood it yet. "I'd like that," was her simple reply.

Dinner had turned into drinks afterwards, drinks into a walk through Oaxaca's historic centre, the walk into a moment stood at a crossroads, Luisa's hotel five minutes in one direction and Gabriela's apartment five minutes in the other, where neither could quite bring themself to say goodbye.

After an awkward few moments Gabriela leaned in to kiss her, and Luisa responded without hesitation, without the mental calculations that had gone with so many of her encounters over the past couple of years. All she knew was that she wanted Gabriela, wanted her right then with every fibre of her being, her attraction to Gabriela through the roof.

What followed wasn't like Tulum and her night with Alethea, lacking that almost supernatural connection and that sense of inevitability. But it was close, really quite close. Genuine connection at an emotional level, a genuine connection without expectation or agenda. There was nothing performative, there was nothing to perform to. It was just the two of them in the moment.

They ended up back in Gabriela's apartment, clothes flying off each other rapidly in their desperation to hold and touch each other. Instead of the almost mental comparison when with another model, seeing how their body matched up to hers, Luisa found that with Gabriela it was a journey of discovery, her body sturdy and soft in different places.

Luisa was stuck by how easily they communicated without words, reading each other's reactions, adjusting accordingly, finding a rhythm that felt natural. When Gabriela's mouth started to kiss her way down Luisa's body, finding her way between Luisa's legs, Luisa found that the pleasure built with what she could only describe as an honesty that had been missing from so many encounters since Tulum... pleasure because what Gabriela was doing to her was pleasurable, not pleasure because she felt like she needed to show she was enjoying herself.

"Is this good?" asked Gabriela, looking up at Luisa with genuine concern for her pleasure, and the very question itself, so simple and so attentive, intensified everything for her.

"Yes," Luisa moaned. "Please don't stop."

The orgasm built slowly, Gabriela paying close attention and making sure that it was neither too fast nor too slow, but when it peaked it hit with unexpected intensity, leaving Luisa trembling and vulnerable in a way that she'd never allowed herself to be before, even with Alethea.

Luisa, after a few moments to recover, guided Gabriela on to her back and returned the favour, exploring her body with the same attention that Gabriela had shown to her. Gabriela was more vocal than Luisa was used to, but she appreciated it, finding the clear communication refreshingly straightforward after some of her partners who somehow expected her to have psychic powers when it came to what they wanted.

After a slow build up, Luisa was rewarded by the feel of Gabriela's back arching under her touch, of Gabriela's thighs clamping around her head and her hands holding on to Luisa's hair. Again, it felt so completely genuine, so authentic, and drove Luisa's desire for Gabriela through the roof.

Afterwards, much later, lying in Gabriela's narrow bed, Luisa felt an unfamiliar contentment. Not the electric afterglow of that time with Alethea, nor the satisfied accomplishment combined with pleasure from Henri, but something quieter and potentially more significant... the simple pleasure of human connection.

"You seem surprised," Gabriela observed, propped up on one elbow, studying Luisa's expression.

"I am," Luisa admitted. "I didn't expect this."

Gabriela laughed and looked down her own body, sturdy, practical body. "I'm not your usual type..."

Luisa smiled back. "I think you might be now..." she teased as she intermingled her fingers with Gabriela's. "But this... it feels nice. Natural. Right." She paused. "Uncomplicated."

"Is it usually complicated?"

Good question, thought Luisa, a very good question. It opened something within Luisa, a need to articulate what she'd been wondering but had never talked to anyone about over the last couple of years. Over the next hour she opened up to Gabriela about everything, about Tulum and Alethea, about her confusion, about what she'd been searching for ever since, about how surprised she was by her night with Henri, about how disappointed she'd been over her nights with some others. Not every detail, not even close, and she kept the names to herself, not wanting to make it awkward for Gabriela if she ever worked with any of them, but enough to convey the journey she'd been on.

Finally, Gabriela summarised it well. "So, you've been trying to decide if you're into women, or men, or both? Or whether you're into men really, and the other model in Tulum was a one off?"

"Yes," replied Luisa, relieved at how succinctly Gabriela had put it. "Exactly that."

"And now?"

"And now... I'd been wondering if I'd been experimenting with women because I felt I should, not because I wanted to. That I'm a straight woman who had one amazing night with a woman, but it was an aberration." She paused and looked at Gabriela, blushing as she continued. "I know, after tonight, that it wasn't just the model in Tulum. I'm attracted to women as well as to men."

Gabriela smiled. "That makes sense... I'm also kind of honoured." She paused. "It's not just about being straight or gay or bisexual. Do you think you might be pansexual?"

"Pansexual?" In all her searching it wasn't a term that Luisa had met before.

"The idea that sexuality for you doesn't reference gender, just the person. It kind of sounds right to me."

Luisa thought about that, rolling it around her mind. Pansexual... that sounded about right if she was being honest. She was attracted to connection regardless of gender, in fact gender was completely irrelevant to her. Gabriela could have been a man or a woman for all she cared, she'd have felt the same. So, she realised, could Alethea or Henri have been man or woman. It was irrelevant to her.

The realisation that there was a word for what she had known for months if not years now was a relief, a huge weight of her shoulders. She knew what she was.

"I'm pansexual," she said out loud, testing the word out. "I'm pansexual," she repeated, smiling at Gabriela. "It sounds right."

They spent two more nights together before Luisa returned to Mexico City. There was no pretence of romance, no promises of continuation afterwards, just mutual enjoyment of each other's company and bodies. When they parted, it was with genuine warmth but no expectations.

Back in her apartment in Mexico City, Luisa stood under the shower for a long time, letting hot water pour over her as she processed her experience with Gabriela. The physical satisfaction had been undeniable, different from that magical night with Alethea but genuine and intense in its own way.

More significant was the emotional resonance, the connection she'd felt with Gabriela as a person, not as a vessel for trying to recreate what she had had with Alethea, something she realised with a jolt could describe all of her other experiences with women over the two years since Tulum.

The conclusion was inescapable. Her interest in women wasn't about Alethea specifically. This wasn't about the mysterious chemistry of that night in Tulum. This was about Luisa herself... about the fundamental truth of her sexuality that she had been circling for years without her fully acknowledging.

It explained everything, and gave Luisa immense reassurance about who she was and how to approach her life.

From that point onwards Luisa's approach changed. On photoshoots and on nights out, if there was someone she felt a strong connection with, regardless of gender or status, she would be open to something happening. No more going back to another model's room because she felt she should, like she needed to experiment to find out who she was. She knew who she was by then and didn't need another vaguely enjoyable night between another model's legs to tell her that.

More than that, though, the experience with Henri had taught her something else... that it was possible to choose judiciously who you might be able to enter into a mutually beneficial relationship with, one where they got to date a model while she got to further her career. Before Henri she'd have found the idea repugnant, genuinely regretting the times that she'd slept with men in positions of influence because she felt she had to, but Henri had changed that. She realised that if she could find someone that she felt that genuine connection with and they could help her professionally it would be the best of both worlds.

Over the months that followed, her love life was quiet while her career really started to go places. Henri's influence had been transformational, and suddenly Luisa found herself in demand for work all over North America, going regularly to California, to Florida, to New York as well as many places in between. In New York she had a brief fling with a British make-up artist on one of her shoots, Olivia, another person where the connection was real, cemented over weak beer in a bar somewhere in Brooklyn. It had the potential to be something more, and they saw each other from time to time over the months that followed, but inevitably it fizzled out when they didn't manage to get their schedules to match.

Whenever she was back in Mexico City she had started to date a man she'd met, Carlos, someone involved in the industry but on the periphery, someone who understood that her life would take her frequently to exotic places and would potentially involve her seeing other people, and who accepted that. Their relationship was casual, necessarily so, but certainly more than nothing even if it was far from ever being serious... he became her go-to to go on dates with when she was back from her travels, a source of stability amidst the organised chaos of her professional life, and in between neither minded what the other got up to, it wasn't that sort of relationship.

They both knew that they would never move in together, never get married, never grow old together. Maybe the best way to describe them was friends with benefits, but that didn't quite do it. When they went out together it was as if they were a couple, but then between times it was almost like they didn't know each other, going weeks on end with barely a message exchanged between them.

Whatever it was it worked for her and it worked for him... and it had the added benefit that while he worked on the periphery he had influence, and could help progress her career, at least in Mexico, behind the scenes, something that she was eternally grateful for.

Three years after Tulum, three years that had completely and utterly changed Luisa's life, the inevitable happened.

Finally, probably a year after Luisa had finally moved on from that night emotionally, the call sheet came in for a fashion shoot in the US Mid-West and Luisa's eyes settled on one name that stood out from all of the others.

Alethea.

Luisa read the name with a wry smile. 21 years old now, with Alethea 23, the gap, obviously, was still two years but while in Tulum it had reflected almost a lifetime's gap in modelling and life experience, by then the gap was nothing. They were peers by that stage, both known in the industry if not outside it, both at about the same place in terms of profile, both with names that got asked for.

So, she reflected, this time there wouldn't be the imbalance. This time they would meet as equals.

And who knew what that might mean? Would there still be that connection after all that time?

Luisa wasn't sure, but she approached it with an open mind, keen to find out.

It was Montana this time. The first time that Luisa saw Alethea again it was from across the paddock, early in the morning before the crew had finished their coffee. It was cold still, cold enough that she could see the steam rising from her morning coffee, and Luisa was thankful to be wrapped up warm in a full length coat that went right down to her ankles.

Alethea was already being photographed, sat on a fence rail, one knee hitched up in a careless pose that didn't need a photographer to tell her how to make it any more perfect, looking effortlessly good in worn denim and a white shirt, half tucked in and with a few less buttons done up than if she'd been wearing it down the street, her dark hair braided down her back, and a Stetson on her knee.

She almost looked approachable. Almost.

But even from a distance Luisa could see that nothing about Alethea had softened. There was still the same cool, focused professionalism, the same presence that made it look like the various people involved in getting the shots were in her orbit, not her in theirs.

Luisa watched from the side, not just because it was Alethea but also as a professional, picking up on what was working and wasn't, working out how she could work best when it was her turn. That was something that she'd learned in the last three years, you can always learn, you can always develop... being professional meant throughout the whole shoot, not just when she was in front of the camera. You had to work hard to get ahead.

Then there was a moment, all too brief, between shots while the photographer talked to her assistant where Alethea looked around and saw Luisa, a quick smile with genuine warmth as their eyes made contact, a smile that Luisa returned with a small nod of recognition.

Inside, Luisa felt her heart beat a little quicker. Because she had the distinct feeling that Alethea had been looking out for her just as much as Luisa had been looking out for Alethea.

For three days they circled each other.

The ranch where the shoot was taking place was sprawling and expensive, the sky endless, the mountains in the background spectacular. Luisa figured even she with just her smart phone could take some spectacular shots, the scenery was so astounding.

The shoot was for a luxury brand trying to sell its version of the American West, all worn denim, low slung soft leather belts and faux cowboy boots. Luisa spent some of her time getting photographed on horseback, and a lot more time posing on weathered old fences and next to outbuildings, all with that scenery selling the dream in the background.

Alethea and her posed often together, something about the way their respective looks worked together that caught the eye of the creatives, standing shoulder to shoulder in the dust, their bodies close but not touching unless directed, their eyes focused and professional as the cameras clicked.

And in the quiet between takes, they talked. It felt easy, completely different to three years before. Whereas back then there had been a huge imbalance in experience and power, almost a mentor guiding their mentee, now Alethea spoke to her as an equal, with respect.

They talked about what they'd each been doing, they talked about people they knew in common, they marvelled that it had been three years. And they laughed, that was the biggest difference to before. Alethea had a bone dry sense of humour and it worked well with Luisa's, so that more than once they found themselves laughing together about something that left everyone else bemused.

But there was also something else there, something in the background, in the way their eyes met for a split second longer than necessary, the way when they posed together their bodies touched a little more than necessary. There was... interest, Luisa guessed was the best way to describe it, reciprocal interest.

Despite the obvious chemistry though they circled, warily. It was like they each had a fence around their inner most thoughts, their conversations limited to the more superficial topics and steering well clear of each other's love lives, and going nowhere near what had happened in Tulum.

On the third and final night they had the obligatory party, this time set around a bonfire as the sun set from a cold, blue sky.

Luisa made sure to be sociable with a lot of the other people there, many of them models and other fashion professionals that she'd worked with quite a few times before.

As the sky turned black though, covered by a stunning view of the stars, she sought out Alethea or maybe Alethea sought out her, she never quite new which, and they sat together, sharing a drink, warmed by the bonfire. A lot of other people were around but the conversation was just the two of them.

They chatted, they teased each other, and they flirted, getting closer and closer to what was unsaid between them. Finally, fortified by more than a few glasses of wine, Luisa said, "I want to thank you for everything you did for me in Tulum that time."

Alethea looked at her with a faint smile. "It was the least I could do." She paused, looking Luisa in the eye, and then said, "Everything?"

Luisa looked back at her, immediately understanding the thrust of her question, and nodded. "Everything," she replied quietly.

There was a moment, a long moment, where they looked at each other and Luisa felt her heart skip a beat, because the way that Alethea was looking at her was the exact same look from three years before, in Alethea's hotel room, right before they went to bed together.

But then the moment was broken, one of the other models wanting to come over and talk. A few minutes later though, Luisa glanced back at Alethea to see that Alethea was already looking at her. There was something there, thought Luisa, without a doubt.

Coming up to midnight that night, Luisa was in her bed. Her own bed, and alone.

Her mind was racing, thoughts of Alethea, wondering if she'd misread it earlier, wondering why they'd not ended up finishing the night together. Luisa had been open to it, more than open in fact, she'd wanted it, but the rest of the night just hadn't quite panned out like that.

So there she was, in bed alone. Fuck it, she thought to herself, I'm not going to die wondering. I'm going to seize the moment.

Climbing out of bed she threw on her long coat over the shorts and vest she wore in bed, put on a thick woollen scarf and beanie hat, and slid on a warm pair of faux cowboy boots that she'd 'borrowed' from the shoot, preparing herself for the freezing temperatures outside.

As she walked the hundred yards or so along a stone path to Alethea's room, she did wonder what she was doing. It hadn't happened, so just leave it, the more cautious part of her subconscious said. Nobody else was around, the place was silent, almost eerily so, just Luisa padding along, lit by the artfully placed lighting next to the path.

She got to Alethea's door, paused for a second, then knocked. Not softly, not apologetically, she knocked like she had something she needed that was behind that door.

Alethea opened the door quickly, she must have still been up, dressed in a bath robe, her hair tied up in a bun, smelling of mouthwash and toothpaste.

She looked at Luisa, a split second of surprise, then she smiled. Luisa smiled back.

There was a moment that seemed to stretch on, and then they were all over each other, lips pressed together, stumbling back into Alethea's room as the door shut behind them.

They ended up against the wall, Alethea's back against it as Luisa pushed up against her, their bodies together, their hands all over each other, their tongues meeting.

It was different to Tulum, completely different but no worse for it. It was three years of want all pouring out in one night, and it was equal this time. In Tulum, Alethea had been the teacher, this time they were equals and it showed.

Luisa broke the kiss and started to kiss down Alethea's neck while her hands slipped inside her bathrobe, thrilled to discover that she was naked underneath, roughly sliding over her breasts, feeling her nipples harden at Luisa's touch.

This time it was Luisa who whispered, "Come to bed." Three simple words, but a sentence that Luisa had waited three years to say.

Alethea smiled, a smile of recognition at Luisa's reference to that night in Tulum all those years ago. Luisa allowed herself a moment just to take it all in, the culmination of three years of unfulfilled desire. She could feel the sparks flying, without a doubt, and could see the hunger in Alethea's eyes.

Luisa held out her hand and Alethea took it, following, allowing herself to be led, her dressing gown open. When they got to the bed Luisa shrugged off her coat then slid the dressing gown off Alethea's shoulders before pushing her gently, Alethea's hands pulling Luisa down with her until they were lying together, Luisa in her thin top and shorts on top of a naked Alethea, Alethea's legs parted and wrapped around Luisa's.

Alethea tugged at Luisa's top, lifting it up and over her head, then pulled at her shorts, bringing them half way down her thighs before Luisa shifted herself and kicked them off entirely.

She settled back down and kissed Alethea urgently, the skin on skin full body contact between them sending a rush of arousal through Luisa... the press of her breasts against Alethea's, their legs intertwined, Alethea's hand cupping Luisa's face as their kiss got more and more intense.

Unlike Tulum, where everything had felt so new to Luisa, this time felt like rediscovery, familiar territory seen through much, much more experienced eyes. Luisa wanted Alethea so badly and, when her hand slid between Alethea's legs and felt how aroused she was already, she knew that Alethea wanted the same. Knew instinctively that Luisa wasn't the only one in that bed who'd been desperate for a repeat of that night in Tulum.

Luisa touched her with a confidence that came from experience, finding a rhythm that she faintly recalled Alethea liking before and being attentive, almost hyper attentive, to Alethea's reactions, being the good lover for her that she'd learned to be.

Alethea's gasped softly, her body responding rapidly to Luisa's touch, and Luisa felt a wave of pride and of power at drawing such a reaction so quickly. So different already, reflected Luisa, compared to Tulum, so much more equal.

"Yes..." moaned Alethea quietly. "Like that..." as Luisa's finger circled her clitoris, gently, not too fast, drawing it out.

She watched Alethea's face as her pleasure built, noticing each miniscule change in her expression, each shift of her body, each twitch of her muscles, and adapting as she did. Luisa was focused completely on Alethea at the expense of everything else, her world shrunk in that moment to the two of them on that bed and to the building pleasure that Alethea was feeling.

When Alethea came it was with a quiet intensity, her body tensing, her fingers digging into Luisa's back, a long, low series of moans that were half muffled as she buried her mouth into Luisa's neck. Luisa felt the waves as Alethea clenched around her fingers, wave after wave until, too sensitive, Alethea pushed her fingers away.

Once she'd had a few moments to recover, Alethea smiled, a lazy smile, and said quietly, "You've definitely learned a few things since last time."

"I had an excellent first teacher," replied Luisa, smiling back. "She made me want to learn more." Her journey over the three years since Tulum summed up in one sentence, really.

Alethea laughed. "Let's see what else you learned... but first, your turn."

She moved suddenly, gracefully, rolling Luisa onto her back, Alethea's weight settling above her in a reversal of position. Alethea kissed Luisa, slower than before, more considered and more passionate, a deep and long kiss that simply served to stoke the fire that was already burning inside Luisa.

Eventually, Alethea started to kiss down Luisa's body, her neck, her shoulder, her breast, and by the time she reached Luisa's stomach Luisa was so aroused she could barely think, the only thought going through her head again and again was that Alethea was going to go down on her. The Alethea. Going down on her.

When Alethea glanced up, seeking permission to go lower, Luisa nodded... entirely unnecessary given how obviously she wanted it, but adding meaning to the moment, further establishing their equality rather than the old power dynamic from Tulum.

The first touch of Alethea's tongue between her legs drew a sound from Luisa that she didn't realise she could make... raw, low, guttural, an expression of three years of pent up desire. Alethea had the same precise skill that Luisa remembered from before, the technique that had, in all honesty, ruined many other lovers for Luisa until Henri and Gabriela. But by then it had become more, because Alethea remembered what Luisa had liked back in Tulum but was also being attentive to how three years had changed her.

Luisa's hands reached for Alethea's hair, not to guide her but simply to connect, maintaining physical contact with where Alethea's mouth met Luisa's core. The pleasure was building with exquisite, excruciating slowness, a build that took Luisa back to Tulum where Alethea had done the same, keeping her suspended in a place just short of climax, nearly there, so very close, but not quite.

"Alethea," Luisa moaned, part plea and part praise. "Please let me..." trailing off to be replaced by a long, shuddering moan.

Alethea responded by sliding two fingers inside Luisa, all while her tongue did its work, the extra sensation almost overwhelming in its intensity. Luisa's hips started to buck against Alethea's face, seeking that final something to take her over the edge, and then she peaked...

The orgasm was soul shattering, earth shaking, waves of pleasure radiating through her whole body while she screamed incoherently in pleasure, Spanish mixed with English, back arching, head thrown back, hands tugging on Alethea's hair, leaving Luisa stunned, trembling and breathless.

Better than Tulum was her first conscious thought. She hadn't thought that could be possible, but it was.

Before Luisa could even take a moment to recover, Alethea moved up her body, kissing her deeply on the lips, Luisa tasting herself on Alethea, while Alethea's hand went back to where her mouth had just been, finding Luisa still sensitive but, surprisingly, wanting.

"Again," she whispered into Luisa's ear, not a question but not quite a command either, more an invitation.

Luisa nodded, knowing that she'd never forgive herself if she didn't, and Alethea's fingers found a new rhythm and a new angle, unlocking pleasure that Luisa hadn't known could be there so soon after her orgasm.

The second time was faster, more urgent, Luisa's body already primed it seemed and responsive. When Alethea curled her fingers in just the right way Luisa's second orgasm hit her like a freight train, making her vision blur and her cry out uncontrollably, her arms and legs holding onto Alethea for dear life as she rode it out.

Afterwards, they lay tangled comfortably together, neither talking for some time, just smiling and kissing and stroking each other, before inevitably they made love to each other again, more gently, more mutual, experimenting with different positions and different ways... a long, long night that just seemed to get better and better as it went on.

Luisa hadn't thought it possible, had thought that Tulum would be the peak of her life sexual experience, but she was wrong... Montana was ten times better than Tulum, for the equality, for the electric connection, for the sheer joy.

And it was at that point that Luisa knew, unequivocally, that she would never be able to say no to Alethea ever again.

The next morning Luisa crept out of Alethea's room early without waking her, didn't see her again before she left. She couldn't quite say why, given how great their chemistry had been throughout the shoot, but it just didn't feel like her and Alethea were the type to wake up together, get breakfast together, do anything approach romance. They were friends, they were colleagues, and they fucked with an insane connection and chemistry... she felt like that was the limit of it, and it turned out over the years to follow that she was right, that Alethea thought the same.

Getting back to Mexico City a few days later, Luisa felt content. She had purpose, she understood herself, and she knew that Alethea hadn't been a one-off... she was in a good place.

Luisa didn't have to wait anywhere near as long to encounter Alethea again, four months later finding herself working with her on a swimwear shoot in the Bahamas. The warm, relaxed tropical nights were the perfect backdrop to their reunion, and they didn't wait until the last night like they had in Tulum or Montana... the shoot was due to last three nights, and they made the most of every single one of them, the fateful words, "Come to bed..." uttered by one or the other with a faint smile each night, a smile knowingly reciprocated by the other, and they crept back to one or other of their rooms to enjoy their time together.

That was the pattern that established itself for the next five years, right up until Luisa met Amy, Luisa living her compartmented life.

On the one hand Alethea... the thrill of seeing her name on the call sheet, maybe two or three times a year, knowing now with certainty that when they were together they would be inseparable, knowing that she'd say yes to Alethea every time even though the question was never asked.

Then on the other hand, back home in Mexico City, was Carlos. Her patient, understanding source of stability, keeping her grounded between her escapades elsewhere, explicitly understanding of the demands of her profession and her dalliances with others, and she of his. She was a much his rock during that time as he was hers, although they didn't last long after she moved to LA when she was 24.

And then, also, her professional entanglements. The men and women with power in the industry... the people like Henri where she made the same cool headed appraisal of the benefits versus the costs, and got involved with them either as one night stands or as something more when she, and she alone, determined that the net benefits were good and also, crucially, that the chemistry was there to make it enjoyable.

Each compartment she kept separate from the others, never letting them overlap... if the contract to be the summer face of a particular brand or take part in a particular campaign was contingent on Luisa going for dinner with the wealthy owner or creative director, and if it happened that he or she was also charming, charismatic and good looking, well... it worked for her, and her other compartments didn't need to know.

When she moved to LA around a year and a half before meeting Amy, realising that she had to in order to make the next step in her career, it had continued.

It was in LA that she met Julian. Not a photographer or agent or anyone else directly involved in booking her for jobs, but a production company executive who specialized in high-end commercial shoots. They'd met at an industry event, introduced by mutual connections, and something about his straightforward approach had appealed to Luisa at once.

Julian was fifteen years her senior, divorced, established in his career, and refreshingly transparent. On their third date, he'd laid out exactly what he was looking for.

"I'm not interested in marriage or living together," he'd told her over dinner at a restaurant in Silver Lake. "I travel too much, work too much. But I enjoy your company, enjoy supporting people with talent. I could introduce you to the right people, help navigate this town. You'd have your own life, I'd have mine, but we'd enjoy the time we spend together."

The proposition should have offended her, perhaps. A younger version of herself might have seen it as another exploitative industry arrangement. But Julian's honesty had the opposite effect. Here was someone saying exactly what he wanted, what he could offer, with no manipulation or coercion. He wasn't promising to make her career or threatening to break it. He was simply offering a mutually beneficial relationship between adults.

"And if I say no?" she'd asked, testing.

"Then we finish this excellent wine, I call you a taxi, and we say goodnight as friends who had a nice dinner." He'd shrugged, completely at ease. "Your career will do just fine without me."

Then he'd added, with the same directness, "And I should be clear... I see other people. Mostly casually, sometimes models, sometimes not. I'm not looking for exclusivity."

Luisa had appreciated his candour. In an industry built on illusions and unspoken arrangements, his transparency was refreshing. She knew exactly what she was agreeing to.

She'd accepted his proposition, and for the next year and a half, they had exactly the relationship he'd described. Julian kept his word... he introduced her to influential industry figures, invited her to events where she made valuable connections, occasionally gave her guidance on navigating LA's complex social hierarchies. But he never directed her career, never tried to control her choices, never acted entitled to her time or body. He gave her expensive gifts, the bracelet she occasionally wore was from him, but they were offered with no strings attached.

Luisa was under no illusions about Julian's other relationships. She would occasionally spot him at industry events with other women, sometimes younger models just establishing themselves in LA. Rather than jealousy, she felt a certain solidarity with these women. They were all navigating the same system, making their choices with open eyes. Julian was, in his way, one of the more honest players in a dishonest game.

He became, to Luisa, her 'not-boyfriend', a term she used when she first met Amy, and something that drew some sort of equivalence between Luisa's career and Amy's own highly unorthodox mentoring relationship with her senior colleague Sarah, one where Amy exchanged her body for Sarah's help with her career.

The challenge was, though, that by the time that Luisa met Amy it had been eight years since she'd had a normal relationship. Eight years. Every emotional or romantic entanglement during that time had been with a professional angle to it, and her longer term relationships, whether Alethea, Carlos or Julian, weren't relationships in the normal sense. None of them were someone she was going to move in with, to marry, to grow old with.

This realisation hit Luisa hard the last time that she had seen Alethea, only a few days before she met Amy for the first time, in Miami. Nothing special about it, nothing unusual, it was their standard encounter, professional during the day and passionate lovers during the night. But a throwaway comment from Alethea probably ended up changing Luisa's life for ever, because without it she would never have met Amy...

The afternoon shoot had wrapped early, leaving Luisa and Alethea lounging by the hotel pool with a couple of other models and crew members. Florida's evening heat was starting to ease, the setting sun casting long shadows across the water. Luisa was nursing a mojito, listening to the comfortable buzz of conversation around her while stealing occasional glances at Alethea.

It was their third day working together on this shoot and tomorrow would be their last. Though they hadn't explicitly discussed it, there was an unspoken understanding between them as always that tonight would be spent together, as it always was when they worked on the same job. Their eyes had been meeting throughout the day with that familiar electricity, the silent acknowledgment of what would come later.

Alethea was in the middle of a story about a disastrous shoot in Morocco when she gestured with her hand and something caught the light... a delicate silver bracelet with a small pendant that Luisa hadn't noticed before. It was subtle but distinctive, the kind of piece that looked both personal and expensive.

"That's beautiful," Luisa said during a lull in conversation, nodding toward Alethea's wrist. "Is it new?"

Alethea glanced down, touching the bracelet almost unconsciously, a small smile that she seemed to try but couldn't quite manage to conceal. "Thanks. Erin gave it to me for my birth..." She stopped abruptly, something flashing across her expression before she smoothed it away. "For my birthday last month."

It was the smallest of slips, but in that brief moment, everything about Alethea's expression changed. There was a softness in her eyes that Luisa had never seen before, and an intimacy in how she touched the bracelet that told Luisa everything she needed to know about who Erin was.

"It suits you," Luisa replied casually, but something inside her shifted. Luisa and Alethea never talked about their love lives, that was their unspoken rule. Yet here was tangible evidence of someone else, someone who knew what Alethea would like, who celebrated her birthday, who gave her gifts she treasured enough to wear.

The conversation moved on, but Luisa's thoughts kept returning to that bracelet and the look on Alethea's face. Later, when they ended up in Alethea's room as expected, the sex was as passionate and intense as always. Yet afterward, as Luisa lay beside Alethea in the darkened room, she found herself staring at the bracelet resting on the nightstand where Alethea had carefully placed it before they'd fallen into bed together.

"Who's Erin?" Luisa asked quietly, surprising herself. They didn't do this, just didn't ask about each other's lives outside the bubble of their encounters on location.

Alethea was silent for so long that Luisa thought she might not answer. Then she said quietly, "Someone important to me. Back in LA."

"She has good taste in jewellery."

Another long pause. "She's a personal trainer." Alethea smiled. "She was my personal trainer. We've been together a while."

"A while?"

"A while."

The words hung in the air between them. Together. A while. Not just someone, but someone Alethea had committed to, someone who was waiting for her back home. Luisa felt a strange hollowness open up inside her, not quite jealousy, she couldn't be jealous with this arrangement with Alethea over the years, but something more complex.

She realised that she'd always assumed that Alethea was similar to her, focused on her career, no deep relationships around it. Hearing about Erin was a surprise, because it suddenly made her miss what she hadn't had since Miguel, all those years ago, and made her realise that it could be possible.

"Does she know about...?"

"No," Alethea said simply. "It's not something we discuss." Then, turning to look at Luisa directly for the first time since the conversation began, she added, "This is different. What happens on shoots stays on shoots. That's always been our arrangement."

Luisa nodded, knowing Alethea was right. That was their unspoken understanding. Yet that night, as she returned to her own room before dawn as she always did, Luisa couldn't shake the image of that bracelet, or the way that Alethea had touched it with such affection.

The next day was their final shoot together, and they performed as consummate professionals as always. But as Luisa packed her bags that evening, preparing for her flight back to LA the following day, her mind kept returning to Alethea and Erin. Not with jealousy for Alethea's affections... their relationship had never been about that, and her and Alethea could never have worked as a couple. No chance and no interest either.

But what there was for Luisa a growing curiosity about what it might be like to have that kind of connection with another woman.

Her relationships with men had always felt like they were following a script someone else had written. With Alethea, it was purely physical, contained within the boundaries of their arrangement. But the thought of something more, someone who would think carefully about her birthday, know what kind of jewellery she might like, take enough care to choose something special... that thought lingered and wouldn't leave.

Back in her apartment in LA three days later, Luisa found herself looking at the bracelet she wore on special occasions, a gift from Julian, her not-boyfriend. It was very expensive, designer, exactly what was expected. But she could tell that there had been no moment of choosing something uniquely for her, no real thought beyond the price tag and the brand name.

When her phone buzzed with a message from her best friend Maria asking if she wanted to come out that Friday night to a new club she wanted to try, Luisa's first instinct was to decline. She wasn't in the mood for another night of fending off men who recognized her from magazines or, worse, thought that revealing an overfamiliarity with her social media presence was somehow going to get her to go to bed with them.

But then Maria mentioned it was a women's bar... "A lesbian club but super chill, you'd love it, I promise". Suddenly something clicked into place.

"Why not?" Luisa replied, surprising herself. "Sounds fun."

She told herself she was just being supportive of her friend who was very openly into that scene, that it would be a nice change from their usual nights out. But as Friday approached, Luisa found herself thinking more about what it would be like to meet women in a context that wasn't a photoshoot, that wasn't just about physical connection behind closed doors.

What would it be like to have someone look at her the way Alethea had looked at that bracelet? To be with a woman who wasn't just passing through her life between shoots, but who might stay, might learn what she liked, might think of her when they were apart?

By the time Friday night arrived, what had started as curiosity had evolved into something more intentional. As she got ready, selecting her outfit with unusual care, Luisa admitted to herself what she was really hoping for... to meet someone. Not for a night, not for a fling, but someone who might show her what she'd been missing, someone who might look at her and see more than just her body or her face and want her because she'd make them look good.

When she walked into the club with Maria that night, Luisa's eyes were already scanning the crowd, open to possibilities she'd never considered before. She didn't know exactly what or who she was looking for, but for the first time, she was actively seeking something beyond what she'd had with Alethea all these years and what she'd experienced with any of the others.

And then, through the crowd, she saw her... a woman with brown hair tied back loosely, dressed casually yet somehow striking, radiating a confidence that drew Luisa's gaze. Their eyes met across the room, and Luisa felt something flutter in her stomach, something that reminded her of the first time she'd seen Alethea in Tulum all those years ago, but different too, more grounded, more real.

This woman wasn't Alethea. She wasn't a fantasy or a secret. She was just someone at a bar on a Friday night. Someone named Amy, as Luisa would soon discover.

Jolting back to the current day as the plane began its descent into Naples, Luisa watched the coastline appear below her, the Mediterranean impossibly blue against the rugged shoreline. Alethea would be waiting. And for the first time, Luisa understood exactly what that meant.

Over eight years, she'd compartmentalized her life with surgical precision... Alethea in one box, Carlos and then Julian in another, Henri and the others in their own spaces. It had worked because the compartments never touched, never threatened each other.

Now there was Amy.

Amy, the woman that Luisa had fallen desperately in love with. Amy, who had no idea that the woman Luisa was about to see was the woman who had taught her what desire could feel like. Amy, who had trusted Luisa with her heart despite her own complicated relationship with Sarah.

The irony wasn't lost on her. Without Alethea, without that first night in Tulum that had set her on this winding path of self-discovery, Luisa might never have recognised what she felt for Amy as love. Indeed, she might never have had the courage to pursue it.

And now that same catalyst threatened to complicate everything.

As the plane touched down, Luisa made no promises to herself about what would happen with Alethea. She knew better than that by now. Eight years had taught her that some forces operated outside of logic or intention... like gravity, like desire.

But for the first time, as the seatbelt sign dinged off and passengers began to stir around her, Luisa wondered if what she'd always interpreted as inevitability might actually be choice.