Rhea drew back. With a conscious decision, she dropped her illusion. Clo watched as the markings appeared on Rhea’s skin, unfurling like moonlight across the slopes of a landscape. The pale cream almost glowed against Clo’s golden bronze.

“You are so beautiful,” Clo whispered, and then there were no more words as she traced the marks upon Rhea’s neck with her lips.

Rhea’s skin grew brighter, a torch lit from within. Clo’s arousal fed Rhea’s own, and this dual desire was almost too much to bear. Rhea pressed Clo against the unbreakable glass that separated them from the vast abyss of space. The other woman’s legs fell open, and Rhea settled between them. Their torsos pressed together, their hip bones fitting against each other.

Rhea kissed Clo again, taking her time, unrushed. Her hands traced Clo’s sternum, the underside of one breast, lower, lower.

Clo’s hand caught hers. “Are you sure?”

Rhea pulled back at the unexpected question. But Clo’s expression was somber, her eyes seeking. Rhea wasn’t certain. A part of her wanted to wait, wanted that patience she had never been given before Clo. And the other part reminded her that she might die tomorrow in Laguna. And they’d never have this chance again.

Rhea let out a breath and settled her cheek against Clo’s chest. “I said . . . that eventually I could tell you what it was like for me. In the Pleasure Garden.”

Clo’s heart thudded beneath Rhea’s cheek. “Yes.”

“Ask me,” Rhea whispered.

Clo caressed Rhea’s shoulder, the calluses on the tips of her fingers rough against Rhea’s skin. A reassuring touch. “I’m asking.”

“It was a nightmare that pretended to be a dream,” she said, gazing out at the firmament of stars as she listened to the steady thump of Clo’s heart. “It was cruelty always wrapped in courtesy and kindness. Yet there was connection there. My fellow flowers in the Pleasure Garden and I took bits of freedom for ourselves. Sometimes, it was with clients who were looking for their own escape. But it never lasted. Honey always turned bitter. And we endured, and we hated, and we didn’t let ourselves hope. Because hope would crush us even more. So, we gave our pretty smiles. We danced for them. We did everything they wanted, and asked for nothing in return. We let ourselves disappear.”

Clo’s fingertips traced small circles along the small of her back. Rhea closed her eyes, letting herself revel in the feeling.

“We don’t have to go any further than this,” Clo said. “What do you want, Rhea? Tell me, and I’ll give you as much or as little as you need.”

“I don’t want to disappear,” Rhea whispered. She sat up again, shifted from Clo’s lap. “Undress me. I want you to see me.”