Table of Contents

Dinner Out

Game Face

Making Sam Grovel

Truffles

Dancing

Adventure

Medical Emergency

Bonnie

North Shore

Dinner In

Morning After

Panic

Surprise

About the Author

Dinner Out

"I'll have the salmon," I told the waiter. "And a garden salad." I finished making my order. He collected orders from Bonnie, Sam, and Suzanne then promised to be back with breadsticks. Sam was short for Samantha, and she was my best friend. When we'd first met, she had been so full of angst, but then she and Suzanne had met. It had been love at first sight. But tonight, she looked worn out and haggard.

"What's going on?" I asked her. "You looked wiped out."

"It's this auction," she said. She looked at Suzanna with a small glare. "When I volunteered to run it, I thought it would be easy, but I am having a devil of a time finding. Um."

"Prizes?" Bonnie suggested?

"Yeah," Sam said. "Prizes."

"What auction?" I asked.

"For the benefit event I'm running," Suzanne said. "Every year we host a benefit gala. We take suggestions in January and select a charity. Then we have our big gala in April. This year's charity organization is the Wishes For Kids foundation."

"Oh, that's a great charity!" I said. "I don't have any money to give you, but I'd help."

"It's next Saturday," Suzanne said. "We have everything organized, except the auction is the main event."

"And several of the people who offered to donate their-"

"Prizes," offered Bonnie.

Sam continued. "Their prizes have backed out. Now I'm short and running out of time. I need firm commitments by this Friday so we can finish publicizing and get everything to the printer."

"Oh," I said. "I don't have anything anyone would want."

Bonnie smiled at me, a smile that suggested a lot more than I realized at the time. She had a lovely smile, and she was always trying to flirt with me. I was the only straight woman at the table and had gotten quite expert at deflecting her attention.

"Pamela," Bonnie said. "You have exactly what your best friend, Sam needs, but you're too chicken to offer it."

"No she doesn't," Sam said to Bonnie before turning to me. "Don't let her tease you."

"No," I said. "I'd love to help. If I can help, put me down."

"You don't understand, Pamela," Sam told me. "It's a bachelor auction."

"And last time I checked," Bonnie said. "You were single. You wouldn't be if you would just loosen up a little." She offered me a leer.

"Knock it off," Sam told her.

"Bachelor auction?" I asked.

"Yes," said Sam. "We want an even dozen people to auction. Six men, six women. I have the six men but only five women. I need one more, and she needs to be single. Don't worry, I'll find her."

I stared at her. "You're selling people?"

"Don't look at me like that!" she said. "It's just for a date. No sex involved, but it's implied you'll treat it like a proper date and allow a good night kiss at the end. No one expects more than that."

"She wouldn't do it," Bonnie said. "Even to help her best friend."

"Shut up, Bonnie," Sam said. "I'll find someone."

"How does it work?" I asked.

"I'll find someone," Sam said again.

I looked at her and was a little offended. What was wrong with me? "I suppose you want people more elegant than I am." I said. "It's all right."

"I'm doing it," Bonnie said. "I was the first on the list."

"Um. But you're gay," I said. "Won't that be a problem?"

"No, it's not a problem," said Sam. "Pamela, you wouldn't like it."

"It's for charity, and a good charity at that," I said. "Tell me how it works."

Bonnie answered for Sam. "It's actually a fancy event. I'll be wearing a tuxedo. You could wear an evening gown. Pamela, you would be a real hit. There's a cocktail party, and you are supposed to mingle so the bidders get a chance to check out the merchandise. Then there's an auction. After that, dinner. You spend the evening with whomever won you in the auction and you arrange a date."

"What if the guy is a real jerk?"

"That absolutely isn't a problem," Bonnie said with some sort of knowing grin. "You should do it, Pamela."

I turned to Sam. "I insist. I'd love to help."

"Pamela-"

"Wouldn't I be up to standards?" I looked at Bonnie. She was an attractive woman, and she could look really good when she wanted to. She was tall for a woman, five-seven, with long blonde hair and a figure she worked hard to keep. I know, I'd seen it enough times in the locker room. She and I were workout buddies. We were both in our low thirties, an age where keeping fit is still easy, but we both knew it wasn't going to get easier. I was short, only five-three, with my own long, black hair. Bonnie's face was angular while mine was round, but cute. At the gym, Bonnie turned the guys' heads, but I turned my share of heads, too. If she was up to the standards for the event, I was too.

"She wants to help," Bonnie said. "Let her help." She leered. "I'll bid on her if no one else does."

"You can't bid," Pamela said. "You're being bid on."

"Then Suzanne can be my proxy," Bonnie said. "Two hundred dollars. It's all I can afford."

"You'd pay two hundred dollars for a date with me?" I asked her. I turned to Pamela. "I'd have to let her kiss me goodnight?"

"Yes, I would," Bonnie said. "And yes, you would."

Throughout all this, Suzanne hadn't said a word. Finally she spoke up. "If you do this, Pamela, you can't back out. I did it three years ago, and it was intimidating." She paused. "But you wouldn't have to worry about kissing Bonnie. I guarantee you would go for a lot more than two hundred dollars."

"Shut up, both of you," Sam said. "She's not doing it."

"Wishes For Kids Foundation?" I asked?

Suzanne nodded. "They don't know, not officially, but they've probably heard unofficially. We don't give official notice to the charity involved until afterwards.

That seemed odd, but I didn't know much about how these things worked. "Do you want me to do it?"

"No," Sam said.

"You're not going to find anyone else, Sam," said Suzanna. "And she'd be a hit."

"No," Sam said. She looked right at me. "You're not doing it. I'll find someone."

"Sign me up," I said. "It'll be fun."

"Yes!" said Bonnie.

"Thank you," said Suzanne.

"This is a mistake," said Sam. "They aren't telling you everything."

"Shut up," Bonnie said. "She'll be fabulous." She paused. "It'll be fun," she promised me.

I looked at Sam. "What's the worst that would happen?" I said. "Suzanne buys me for Bonnie. Wishes For Kids gets two hundred dollars. Bonnie buys me dinner and I have to kiss her goodnight. It's one kiss." I looked at Bonnie. "No tongue."

Bonnie laughed. "We'll see."

Sam continued shaking her head, but I gave her The Look, and she shut up.

I should have asked for more information.

* * *

That evening, I went through my closet, deciding what I would wear. Sam had assured me no one would expect me to put out, but it was clear I would want to look my best. Not only did I want to net the best donation I could for the foundation, but I definitely didn't want to go for an embarrassingly low price.

I had never done anything like this before, and I wasn't quite sure what possessed me. I'm not sure I would have insisted on helping if Bonnie weren't going to be there, too.

Bonnie teased me a lot, but she was a good person, and I trusted her almost as much as I trusted Sam. If Sam was running it, I felt safe.

I decided I wasn't happy with my available choices. Bonnie said she was going to be in a tuxedo. I contemplated a little black dress but decided I wanted something more upscale than that. The other choices in my closet had been bridesmaid dresses, and they looked like bridesmaid dresses.

It was time to shop, and if I were going shopping, I wanted the queen of fashion to attend. I picked up my phone.

"Mom?"

* * *

After work the next evening, Mom picked me up at home and took me to dinner. The plan was dinner then shopping. It was good to see her. Between her schedule and mine, we hadn't gotten together since Christmas.

"Tell me about that nice boy you were dating," she said.

"We broke up, Mom."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, reaching across the table with a well-manicured hand to pat mine.

"It's fine, Mom. It was right after New Year's, and it was my choice. I just wasn't into him. He wanted to get serious, and it wasn't fair to string him along if I wasn't interested in marrying him."

"You did the right thing, then," she said. "Did you let him down easy?"

"As easily as I could," I said. "Brian was disappointed, but he knew I was right. He's already seeing someone else."

She nodded. "And how about you. Anyone on the horizon?"

I shrugged. "Not right now." I sighed. "Please don't tell me I'm not getting any younger. I promise to make grandchildren for you before I'm forty if I have to sleep with some random bum off the street."

She pursed her lips. "Honey."

"Mom, it was a joke."

"You shouldn't joke like that," she said. "Tell me about this event."

"I actually don't know that much," I said. "Suzanne is the hostess, but it looked like Sam was more burnt out. There were some late minute cancellations, and she's never helped run something like this before. There's a cocktail party before the auction and dinner after. All the guests are paying to be there, but I get to attend for free." I paused. "Should I be self-conscious? I'm letting them auction me off like it's a slave block."

Mom smiled. "No. I think this is very generous of you, but make sure you protect yourself. I'm proud of you, honey. You are helping your friend and helping charity at the same time."

I told her what else I knew, and we talked about other things after that.

It may be weird, but shopping with Mom was always fun. She herself was very fashionable, but she understood I wouldn't want to look like a younger version of herself. Instead, she was very good at figuring out what I wanted and helping me find it. We always had fun together.

I told her I wanted to look elegant, but that whatever we bought had to be something I'd wear for other events as well. Plus I had to be able to afford it.

"And we want to show off your best features," she said. "Elegant and alluring."

"But not slutty."

"Of course not." She sniffed at the suggestion.

We shopped until the stores were threatening to close, then Mom took me by the hand to the second store we had visited. "The deep purple one," she said. "It's perfect."

"I loved it, Mom, but it was too expensive."

"Consider it my donation to Wishes For Kids," she told me.

"Mom-"

"I insist. You looked absolutely stunning in it. It's the right dress."

"It will cost more than I'm going to make."

"I think you're wrong," she said. "And you'll just have to find more opportunities to wear it."

I thought about it. "It was stunning. But Mom, I didn't bring you to buy a dress for me. I brought you because I wanted your advice."

"Honey," she said. "I know that. And if we hadn't seen the purple one, you'd be getting that black one, which you can afford yourself. But this is the better dress, and it's the one you're getting."

And with that, the decision was made.

It was a stunning dress. It fell to just below my knee in an asymmetric hemline, which I loved. The neckline plunged in front, showing some cleavage, but not outrageously so, and there were laces across the back. If I were to dance in it, my date could place his fingers on my back and feel my bare skin through the laces. I loved it.

Mom also bought the rest of the accouterments I would need. Shoes, stockings, and even matching nail polish and lipstick. I don't usually match my lipstick to my clothes, but Mom told me if I were doing this, I should go all out.

"Honey," she said. "You are going to look stunning. You will fetch a good price on the auction block." She was grinning while teasing me. "I'm so proud of you."

* * *

A week later was the day of the big event. A local limousine service had donated rides for the volunteer bachelors and bachelorettes. The cocktail party began early at 5:30. There would be a silent auction for donated items and socializing for the volunteer dates with the guests. The auction for us was to start at 7:30 with dinner immediately after. There would be dancing after dinner. I was free to leave any time after 11.

Mom came over in the afternoon and helped me get ready. I showered and she did my makeup and hair for me. Then she helped me into the dress. She didn't let me look at myself until she was done. But I trusted her.

Finally, with only minutes before the limousine was due, she pulled me to the full length mirror on the back of my door in my bedroom.

I looked amazing. I stared, stunned, looking back and forth in front of the mirror. I turned to Mom, speechless.

She was beaming at me. "Definitely all grown up," she said. "Hold your head high tonight, Pamela."

I looked back at my reflection. "Thank you, Mom."

"Call me tomorrow and tell me all about it," she said.

Five minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Mom answered for me, admitting a stunning looking black man. I knew immediately he was gay.

He started flirting with mom. "I am Bernard," he told her. "Oh, you are going to fetch a pretty penny tonight."

"It's nice to meet you, Bernard, but we both know that no one is interested in a woman my age. My daughter, on the other hand." Mom turned to me.

Bernard looked me up and down. "You must be Pamela. Sam told me to take special care of you."

"Are you the limo driver?" I asked.

"No, honey," he said. "I am your attendant. If you want something, you ask me, and I fetch it for you. If you are ready, your chariot awaits." He said this with a flourish. In spite of the corny line he managed to say it with a straight face and a twinkle in his eye.

I decided I liked him.

Mom settled a purple pashmina about my shoulders and told Bernard, "You will take care of that for her, then? It ruins the lines of the dress, but she'll need it later."

"Don't you worry, Mrs. Henderson. I'll take good care of your daughter."

"I'm sure you will, Bernard."

With that, he offered me an arm. Mom stepped out of the house first, and I locked up after her before allowing Bernard to escort me to the car. He handed me into the car, climbing in after me.

We started rolling, and Bernard and I looked at each other. "I can offer you liquid refreshments," he said. "But I will warn you. Part of my job is to manage your liquid for you."

I laughed. "You won't need to worry about that. I'd like a diet soda, Bernard, if one is available. Later, a glass of wine might be nice, but not more than one."

He smiled. "Let me rephrase that. Part of my job is to make sure you find enough liquid courage, but not too much." But he poured me a diet soda from a supply in a mini fridge built into the limo. I thanked him and asked about the evening.

"Until the auction starts, you should mingle," he said. "It is my responsibility to make sure you do. I'll keep you moving so no one can monopolize your time. In the past, we didn't do it this way, and we found that some of the guests were quite good at cornering the volunteers, and that just won't do."

"So I smile and nod and go where you tell me to go?"

He laughed. "Yes, honey." He patted my hand. "That's it exactly. You just let Bernard handle everything. You smile and look stunning." He looked me up and down again. "And I will say, you are doing that part exceedingly well."

I smiled, suddenly shy. "Thank you," I said.

We spent the rest of the ride with Bernard trying to put me at ease. I wasn't at all nervous. I had a guaranteed bid of two hundred dollars from Bonnie, after all. At least I'd net that much. Finally I told him that.

"Oh honey," he said. "You won't go for under a thousand dollars."

I stared at him. "Someone would pay a thousand dollars for a date with me?"

"It's for charity," he said. "And you won't go that cheaply."

My mind boggled at the suggestion. I thought perhaps he was trying to build my confidence, so I let it go. We talked about the other aspects of the evening.

At no point did I ask the questions I should have asked.

* * *

Promptly at 5:30, we pulled up in front of the Minneapolis Convention Center. The convention center is a huge structure on the edge of downtown. Our event was occupying two of the many convention rooms in the center. There was one large room to be used for the cocktail party, and dinner was a catered event in the room next door.

Bernard stepped out, drawing me after him. He offered my hand, and I took it, looking around.

It was fun being on Bernard's arm. He was immaculately dressed and a complete gentleman. He was also funny and extremely solicitous. I felt completely safe with him looking out for me. We took a few steps and I pulled him to a stop. "Thank you," I said. "I was a little nervous I guess, like a lamb being led to the slaughter. Will you stay with me the entire evening?"

"The first half, until the auction. After that, you'll spend the remainder of the evening with your date."

I nodded. "That's all right," I said. "The ice should be broken by then." I paused. "I hope I'm not a disappointment."

He laughed before he realized I was serious. He patted my hand soothingly and pulled me into the building.

Bernard led me through the convention center, soon taking us off the beaten path. "We'll go in the back way," he said. "Sam is waiting for us. She may have some last minute instructions for you." We took several turns before arriving at a door being guarded by a couple.

"Hello, Barry," Bernard said. He nodded at the woman. "This is Pamela Henderson, one of the dates we're auctioning tonight."

At that, the woman perked up and checked me out, smiling, and I think she wanted an introduction, but Bernard ignored her. Barry checked us off a list and let us in the door.

We were in what was basically a back stage area of the convention center. Everything was a little crazy. To the right there was a station set up with two women doing makeup. I saw Bonnie getting touched up. As she'd told me, she was wearing a tuxedo. She looked pretty good. Over to the left, a harried-looking Suzanne was talking to someone. I didn't see Sam right away. Bernard pulled me towards the makeup station.

"Bernard, my mother did my makeup, and I'm happy with it."

"They have corsages for you," he said. He led me to a small group of people, and that was when I saw Sam.

She was talking two three guys, all dressed exceedingly well, but the moment she saw me, she stopped and stared at me. Bernard drew me straight to her.

"Pamela," she said. "You look amazing!"

"Don't act so shocked, Sam," I said quietly.

She stepped closer to me and gave me a tentative hug, careful to avoid mussing my appearance. While hugging me she whispered into my ear, "Thank you so much. I owe you. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't volunteered."

"You didn't want me to do it."

"Pamela, I wanted you to do this like you couldn't believe, but I couldn't bring myself to ask. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"You're my best friend, Sam. Of course I want to help you out." We separated and I looked at her. She looked more nervous than I did. What was odd was that she hadn't looked nervous when I walked in.

"Pamela," she said. "I hope you still say that after tonight."

"Don't be silly," I told her.

She smiled wanly. "Let me introduce you to some of the other bachelors." She turned to the men she'd been talking to. I realized they varied in age from upper twenties to mid-forties. "This is Billy," she said. "Brent and John." I shook hands with all of them. I was a little surprised, as I thought Brent might be gay. But if Bonnie could be auctioned off, I guess a gay man could, too. Heck, if I had the money, I'd pay for a date with Bernard. I bet he'd make sure I had a pleasant evening.

And of course, it's all for charity.

"I have a white corsage for you," Sam said. She turned to a table behind her, and I saw there were still a couple more corsages and several boutonnieres waiting to be pinned on their respective bachelors and bachelorettes. Sam picked one up and carefully pinned it into place above my left breast.

"Everyone knows that someone wearing one of these white corsages is one of the bachelors," Sam explained. "You should mingle and not spend more than a minute or two with anyone. If you're spending too much time with someone, Bernard will pull you away. You can spend a little bit longer with a group, but you need to mingle."

"Got it," I said.

"Make sure when you meet someone you offer your name. You'll get asked a lot of questions. Use your judgment in answering them, but please don't lie. It's better to refuse to answer questions that are too personal." I nodded.

"If someone gets out of hand, Bernard will deal with them."

"Right."

She smiled at me. "Thank you, Pamela. Try to have a nice time. Please don't hate me."

I patted her hand. "This will be fun, Sam."

At that point, Bonnie came over. We gave each other careful hugs, then she pulled away. "You look ravishing." She sighed. "I don't think my two hundred dollar bid is going to do me any good."

"Why would you pay for a date with me, Bonnie? We already go to the club together three times a week."

She smiled. "For the goodnight kiss."

I laughed. "You wouldn't like kissing me," I told her. "I taste like straight girl."

"I know," she said. "Straight girls taste especially sweet."

Pamela hugged Bonnie and pinned a boutonniere on her. She looked stunning. "Why a tux instead of a dress? Won't that put off the bidders?"

No one said anything right away, then Bonnie said, "Naw. There are a few gay women in the crowd. They'll bid on me." She paused. "But you'll bring in more than I do. Ready?"

"I guess."

She turned to her handler, a fabulously-dressed man whose name I hadn't caught. He looked just as delectable as Bernard. "Lead the way," she told him.

Bernard and I followed after Bonnie and her handler, stepping through a set of double doors at the back of the convention hall.

"Showtime," Bonnie said, looking over her shoulder at me.

I was suddenly nervous. I turned to Bernard. "What am I doing?"

"Helping a friend out," he said quietly. "And helping a very good charity. Don't worry, honey, Uncle Bernard is here." He patted my hand. I smiled weakly.

I suddenly felt very self-conscious. Who was I to think anyone would want to pay money to have a date with me. I couldn't keep a guy for more than a few weeks, and while I was somewhat picky about who I'd go out with, I was usually willing to give almost anyone one date, if he asked nicely and wasn't a jerk. Why would someone pay for that when they could have it just for the asking?

I stood in the doorway, staring out at the crowd.

"Bernard-"

"Step forward now, Pamela," he said. "Don't think about that. Mingle. Meet people. Say hello."

"I'm going to feel like a piece of meat."

"I was one of the bachelors last year," he said. "And I'd never had more fun. Try to enjoy it."

And then he pulled me deeper into the room, and I got a chance to look around.

We had entered in the back of the room near the corner. To our left was the stage where, I presumed, the auction would be held. They didn't have a sign that said "auction block" but they may as well have. I looked around for the slave cells, but I didn't see those, either. I commented on that to Bernard. He laughed.

Along the long wall to the right of us, heading from the back corner next to us almost all the way to the front corner were tables, and on the tables were the items available for the silent auction.

The rest of the room was filled with people milling about.

This wasn't the largest room at the convention center, but it wasn't small. "How many people are here?" I asked Bernard.

"Several hundred," he said. "We sold a total of five hundred tickets, plus figure another 35 or 40 helping to host the event, if you count the bachelors and their handlers. Not everyone is here yet."

I looked at the people. Attire was all over the board. I saw other people dressed exceedingly well, including some older women wearing very expensive jewelry and gowns. At the other end of the spectrum were people dressed in faded jeans. I didn't see any tee-shirts, so at least it wasn't off the deep end of casual. Still, I was surprised.

Everyone was carrying a little magazine that I discovered was the program for the night. In the section for the bachelor auction, there were photos and bios of all the bachelors and bachelorettes. Sam had used a photo she already had of me and had written my bio.

Bonnie's attendant drew her in one direction, and she disappeared into a small crowd of people. Bernard drew me in the opposite direction, bringing me straight to the two old ladies who were dressed to the nines.

"Agnes," he said. "Jean. I'd like to present bachelorette number six, Pamela Henderson."

"Oh, aren't you ravishing," said Jean. "You're Sam's straight friend, aren't you?"

I thought that was an odd way to put it, but I said I was.

"You're going to be very popular," said Jean. "If I were a few years younger, I'd bid on you myself."

"Over my dead body," Agnes said. "Thank you for supporting our event this year."

We chatted briefly before Bernard pulled me away.

"Those two ladies were totally flirting with me," I told Bernard. He didn't say anything. Before he could pull me to another group I asked, "Could we look at some of the auction items? There might be something I want to bid on."

He frowned.

"Am I not allowed to bid on them?"

"Honey," he said. "You need to mingle. Please."

I sighed. "All right." I let him pull me to a small group of women where I met Victoria, Wendy, Shane and Veronica. All four of them were stunning. Victoria and Wendy looked to be in their fifties. Veronica appeared to be mid-thirties and Shane was younger than I was. We didn't stay for more than a minute.

Before we could reach the next group, we were intercepted by a stunningly dressed, forty-year-old woman. "I'm Tara," she said. "And you are?"

"Pamela Henderson," I told her. "Bachelorette number six."

"Sam's straight friend?" she asked me. I nodded. I guessed that people were keeping track of Bonnie as Sam's gay friend and me as Sam's straight friend. It seemed odd.

"It's so good of you to donate yourself for this," Tara said. "It's a wonderful charity." She paused. "You'll really give your date a good evening?"

"I'm not offering sex, if that's what you're asking," I said.

"No, no," she said. "Of course not. But a proper date, with, well, flirting?"

"And a good night kiss, assuming my date is a proper gentleman."

She smiled, looked me down once more, then made notes in her program. "It was good to meet you. Perhaps we'll meet again."

Bernard slowly had me work the room, traveling counterclockwise. Sometimes he pulled me to a group of people. Other times someone saw my corsage and introduced herself. He introduced me to woman after woman. I was often referred to as Sam's straight friend, and several women asked whether I would really be providing a proper date or if it were just a token date. I assured them I'd give it my all, but that I wasn't offering sex in the mix.

Finally we had been there for forty minutes, and I still hadn't been introduced to a single man.

After having just talked to Cynthia, and a third Jean, I pulled Bernard to a stop. "When are you going to introduce me to potential bidders? Bernard, I do not want to go for an embarrassingly low price."

He looked at me in confusion. "Honey, you don't need to worry about that. And I have been. Haven't you been noticing? The ladies are all taking notes in their programs."

I stared at him, then looked around. I looked at the people. To my right I saw two women holding hands. Directly in front of me, four men were talking, all of them impeccably dressed, and one of the guys was leaning with his hand on the shoulder of the guy next to him.

I looked at Bernard. It was obvious he was gay. Sam, Suzanne and Bonnie were all gay. The first two women I'd been introduced to were obviously a couple.

"Bernard," I asked very quietly. "Is everyone here gay?"

"Of course not," he said. "Sam said you're straight."

"Who else?"

He looked around. "Maybe some of the wait staff." He said it with a very tentative tone as if he wasn't sure.

I stared at him before asking my next question. "What group is hosting this charity event?"

"The local LGBT group, honey. You knew that, right?"

"That bitch!" I said. "I'm going to kill her!"

His eyes grew wide. "You didn't know that?"

"Where is she?" I said, looking around. I didn't see Sam. I immediately began heading towards the back of the hall and towards the doors we had come in, looking for Sam. Bernard hurried to catch up to me, catching my arm.

"Pamela," he said. "Honey."

"Don't honey me," I told him. "I'm going to kill her. This is why she told me not to hate her."

"She should have told you," he said.

"Damned right she should have told me!" I was seeing red. Bernard had my arm in his hand and was trying to drag me to a stop, but I pulled him along, and he had the choice of making a scene or following along.

I didn't see Sam or Suzanne, but I saw Bonnie and altered course to intercept her. I got about six feet away before she noticed me. I stopped and glared at her. She offered a tentative smile, then closed the distance to us. Bernard had grown quiet.

"You bitch," I told her quietly. Her attendant looked shocked. "How could you? I thought we were friends."

"Shhh," she said. "Pamela, we are."

"You bitch. Find a new workout partner."

I turned my back on her and stormed off, Bernard hurrying to catch up to me.

"Honey," he said. "Pamela, calm down. You can do this."

"I am letting my best friend know she needs a new best friend, and then I am calling a cab."

"Are you that big a homophobe?" he asked me quietly.

I stopped in my tracks. "Up until this event," I told him, hissing, "My three best friends were, in order, Sam, Bonnie and lately Suzanne. Do not judge me. They did this on purpose, and it's not funny. Not a single one told me."

I turned and got five more steps before he ran past me and blocked my path. "Do you think they did this to be mean?"

I stared at him. "You know, Bernard, I don't know why my former best friend would set me up like this, and I'm not sure I care. I can't imagine a good enough reason."

I tried to step past him, but he blocked me. "Why is it so bad?"

I stared at him. "Because I'm straight, and they want me to go on a date with a woman."

"So? I'm gay, and I don't die if I go out with a woman. Why would this be any different?"

I was still seeing red, but Bernard had been nice, and I thought about what he said.

"Pamela, honey," he said. "I'm not saying you shouldn't be mad. You should be. But are you going to burn bridges over this? These are your best friends. Is it that bad?"

I deflated a little. "Why, Bernard? Why wouldn't they tell me?"

"Honey," he said. "I don't know. It's a shitty trick. But I know that there were two cancellations. We'd already sold our tickets based on having six men and six women, and we desperately needed someone as big a draw as you would be. Sam was desperate. She couldn't take just anyone, she needed someone stunning, someone near your age, someone to make up for who had cancelled."

"She should have told me," I said quietly.

"Maybe she was afraid you wouldn't come."

"Damned right I wouldn't have come!"

"Why not? Don't you support the charity?"

"Of course I do," I said.

"Wouldn't you help your best friend out of a jam?"

"Of course I would."

"Pamela, tell me what you wouldn't do for Sam."

I thought about it and didn't have an answer.

"If she were in trouble, would you kill for her?" he asked me.

"That's ridiculous," I said.

"Would you? If that was the only way to save her?"

"Of course I would, but-"

"Would going out with the women you've met tonight be as bad as killing someone?"

"Of course not, but-" I didn't have anything to add after the but. "I'm still mad," I said finally.

"I don't blame you," he said. "But put it in perspective. Do you want to lose your three best friends over this?"

I looked away. "Damn it, Bernard, you're taking my anger away, and I haven't bitched out Sam yet."

"We'll go bitch her out, but please don't burn bridges. And Pamela, as much as you want to, you have to stay. You have to. It won't be that bad. You'll have fun. I promise you, you'll have fun."

I let him take my arm, and he led me into the back area, deflecting several women who wanted to meet me. "We'll be back out shortly," he told them.

When we got in back, I didn't see Sam right away, but I saw Suzanne. She saw us coming and shooed away the people she was talking to. I walked up to her and put my hands on my hips. "Where is she?" I asked in a very low voice. "Where is the woman who I thought was my best friend?"

"Pamela," Suzanne said. "Please calm down. She's afraid you'll hate her."

"Why didn't she tell me? Why didn't you? All three of you sat there, and not one of you told me. Why?"

"We were desperate."

"Not good enough!" I bellowed, not caring who heard me. "Where is she?"

"I'm right here, Pamela," Sam said in a quiet voice from behind me. I turned around and glared at her. "I'm sorry. I should have told you. I was afraid you would say 'no'."

"You have to do it," Suzanne said. "Pamela, please. We sold tickets. Very expensive tickets. We had backups, but our two best women cancelled."

"And you replaced them with me?" I asked, turning to face her. "You couldn't do better? You know, maybe find a gay girl instead?"

Sam stepped around me to stand next to Suzanne. "I called everyone I knew," she said. "Everyone Suzanne knew. And they all called the people they knew. And it kept coming back to, 'if only Pamela were gay, she'd be perfect'."

"Yes, but I'm not gay," I said.

"It's one date," Sam said. "And you told Bonnie if she won, you'd kiss her. Were you teasing?"

I looked away.

"Were you lying when you said she'd get a goodnight kiss?" Sam asked again.

I turned back to her. "No, but-"

"If you hadn't said that," Sam said, "I was going to tell you the rest. I was about to, then you said that, and I thought, if I tell you, you won't help. But it won't be that bad. I've kissed guys. We all have. You could flirt for an evening and kiss one woman, one little goodnight kiss, and you'll make a lot of money for the foundation and save the entire event."

"You're being overly dramatic."

"No, she's not," Suzanne said. "People come for the auction. We needed you, Pamela."

"Completely ridiculous. In a town full of gay women, you couldn't find someone?"

"No, I couldn't, and I was out of time," Sam said. "Pamela, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tricked you. I understand if you never want to see me again. But you have to do this. Please."

"I am mad at all three of you," I said. "And I intend to stay that way. Perhaps for a very long time. But fine. I'll do it. Under protest. But this may have cost you a friend, so you damned well better not look happy about it."

I turned to Bernard. "I need a drink, and I bet I need fresh makeup."

He nodded and took my arm, drawing me to the makeup station. I sat down and fumed, ignoring Bernard's attempts to lighten my mood. An artfully dressed women walked over and looked at me.

"Hello, Bernard," she said. "Who is this?" She looked at me critically.

"This is Pamela," he said.

"Ah. Sam's straight friend," she said. She looked at me. "Are you okay?"

"No. I just lost three friends. Now I need to put my game face on. Do what you need to do. Bernard, I promise I won't flee if you go find me a glass of red wine."

"Promise?"

I sighed. "Promise."  I sighed again. "I'm going to need more than one, but don't let me get drunk."

"I'll take care of you honey," he said. "Thank you." He paused. "Think about forgiving them."

"Please, Bernard, I think my staying is all anyone can expect right now."

The makeup woman watched all this in puzzlement. Bernard said to her, "Sam didn't tell her who would be bidding on her." Then he left my side. "I'll only be a few minutes."

"Ohhh," she said. "That was kind of shitty."

"Yeah," I said. Tears started escaping my eyes.

"Oh, Pamela, it's not that bad."

"Sam was my best friend," I said quietly. "This event was more important to her than our friendship. What does that say about the quality of our friendship?"

Game Face

I never caught the name of the woman who did my makeup. She didn't say anything, but helped me dry my tears and gave me a careful hug. Sam wandered by about then, but I glared at her, tears still glistening in my eyes. "Get away from me."

"I need to know if you're going to follow through," she said quietly.

"I promised. Now get away from me."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't think you would mind a date this much."

"Damn it, Sam, it's not the date. It's the betrayal. You put this event in front of our friendship. Now get the fuck away from me so I can calm down and do what I need to do."

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I hope you can forgive me." She retreated and I turned to the makeup person.

I took several deep breaths, dried the rest of my tears, and closed my eyes. When I opened them, I was calmer.

"I prefer understated in my make up," I said. "Can you fix whatever I've ruined without changing it?"

"Yes, honey," she said. "It will look exactly like it did, although your eyes are a little puffy."

I sighed. "I know. I can feel them, but there's nothing to be done about it now."

I let her fuss at me. Bernard appeared with a glass of wine. He handed it to me. "Sam-" he stared.

"-Is not a topic for conversation," I said. "I will allow you to steer me around. I will be as charming as I know how. I will give whoever buys me as pleasant a date as I am able. And after that, I'll decide about Sam."

"Right," he said. He looked at me. "You look fabulous."

"I look a fright," I said. "My eyes are puffy and anyone who gets a close look will be able to tell I was crying."

"It's not that bad," he said.

"There has been enough lying, Bernard." I told him.

"Honey," he said. "You still look fabulous, even with slightly puffy eyes. And the crying can be due to nerves."

I turned back to the make up woman. She fussed for another minute, then declared me fit to go.

I stood up and let Bernard collect my arm. When he led me from the room, I stared straight ahead, not looking at anyone. Or looking to see if Sam was crying.

As soon as we were back in the main room, I smiled. A woman came up to us, and I thought perhaps she was one of the women we'd brushed off earlier. "Tragedy averted," I told her. "Just a case of nerves. Hello, I am Pamela." We talked briefly and I assured her that if she won the auction, I would give her a good date.

I spent the rest of the time until seven thirty meeting people I didn't remember, smiling, and being charming. Bernard retrieved another glass of wine for me, and I told him that was enough for now, but that I'd want one more with dinner.

"That will be your date's responsibility," he said. "I'm to get you to the slave pens up on stage, then my responsibility is over."

I turned to him, smiling wanly at the joke. "No one is going to want me. I don't know what I'm worried about."

He just smiled at me.

Finally seven thirty arrived, and it was time for the auction. I hadn't remotely met everyone, but I'd met a lot of them.

Suzanne climbed onto the stage holding a microphone. She thanked everyone for coming and talked for a while about the Wishes For Kids Foundation. She explained how every year the LGBT community picked a worthwhile charity and held this event, and she found it heartening that the community was so supportive. She thanked the people who had donated prizes in the silent auction, the convention staff, and by name, the people who had helped organize the event.

"Now, for the event you're all awaiting, I'd like to invite someone very special to me to come forth and help to auction off the bachelors and bachelorettes. Sam Lindholm."

There was applause from everyone in the room except me. Sam climbed the stage, and from fifty feet away, I could tell she'd been crying. I looked at Bernard. "Fuck," I told him, just loudly enough for him to hear. It was going to be hard to stay angry at her if she actually looked contrite.

He shrugged.

Sam and Suzanne kissed on stage, and the crowd grew a little raucous. Then Sam took the microphone from Suzanne and turned to the crowd.

"I've never done this before," she said.

"That's not what Suzanne was saying about you," said a loud voice from in back. The room roared with laughter.

Sam waited for them to quiet down before she continued. "Tonight we have six bachelors and six bachelorettes to auction off." She took a minute to explain the rules, including the rules of the dates. Somehow she managed to say, "Don't expect sex" without actually saying it. People laughed as she danced around it.

"In advance, I want to thank everyone who bids tonight. And I want to thank all of you who win your bids. But most of all, I want to thank our wonderful, amazing bachelors and bachelorettes for being willing to bravely stand up in front of all of you hedonists. Please be kind to them and bid generously."

There was more laughter, then Sam said, "Bachelors and bachelorettes, wherever you're hiding, please come up on stage."

She gestured towards the stairs on the left. I turned to Bernard.

"You can do this," he said. "Try to have fun."

"Yeah, right," I said. "How do I get home tonight?"

"I will find you, and we return the way we arrived."

I hugged him briefly then headed towards the stage, my head held high. I was the last to climb the steps. The men were arrayed on the left as one faced the stage, the women to the right. I stepped all the way across the front of the stage, and the room grew quiet for a moment before whispering began. I stepped to the last spot on the far right of the stage and turned to face the audience.

"One by one," Sam said, "We'll introduce each of these people. I'll ask them to come up and answer one or two brief questions. Once everyone is introduced, we'll start the bidding." Sam turned to the ladies. Bonnie was first in line. "Our first bachelorette is Bonnie Callahan." She held out her hand, and Bonnie stepped up to her.

I stared at the two of them for a moment, then turned away. I smiled at the audience for a moment while Sam offered a few highlights from Bonnie's bio. Then she asked Bonnie, "Bonnie, can you briefly describe the best date you've had in the last year?"

I didn't pay any attention to the answer. Instead I took a look at the other women standing next to me. Of the four remaining, I was the youngest, with the oldest to be about forty-five. Two seemed kind of butch and were wearing tuxedos similar to Bonnie's. The other two were more feminine and were dressed accordingly. I preened when I realized none was wearing a gown as elegant as mine.

I wondered if it was over the top, and what message it might send. Then I realized I didn't care. I just wanted the night over.

I wondered where I'd get a new best friend.

Bonnie crossed the stage, stepping past the rest of the women to stand next to me. She tried to reach out and take my hand, but I glared at her. She backed off.

Sam invited the first man up. He strutted across the stage to a lot of jeering from the crowd. I didn't pay much attention to what Sam said about him. After that, she invited the next man, then the next woman.

The crowd grew increasingly raucous, and I began to panic. I took deep breaths and started saying, "You can do this. You can do this." Bonnie heard me.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't think about this part."

I looked at her, panic clearly showing on my face.

"Nothing bad is going to happen to you," she said. "Everyone is here to have fun."

"Everyone but me," I told her.

"Deep breaths," she said. "And just think about the months of groveling you'll get from the three of us. Concentrate on Sam and ignore everyone else."

"I'm going to kill all three of you," I told her firmly. "And when I do it, it will be a knife in the front, not one in the back like the one I'm wearing." Then I turned my back on her, but I was angry again, and anger was easier to manage than fear.

Due to the pattern of the introductions, I was the last one introduced. Sam looked straight at me. "Our last bachelorette is a little skittish," she said. "She may be the only straight person in the room. I know everyone here knows what it is like to be alone in a crowd, and I know everyone will be kind to her as she walks across the stage."

The crowd grew quiet. The raucous behavior evaporated immediately. Then Sam turned to me. "Pamela Henderson is my best friend." She held out her hand, and I began walking to her. "I tricked her to come tonight, but she is here because she wishes to support our chosen charity." Sam said several very nice things about me as I stood next to her. Finally she said, "Pamela, you're my best friend. I am so sorry I tricked you to come. Will you be able to forgive me?"

I stared at her. That was the question she wanted to ask me? But I looked into her eyes, and she had tears in them, and her lip was quivering. My heart broke, and the last of my anger dissipated. I took the microphone from her, took a breath of air, and said, "Samantha, you are my best friend. You've been my best friend for as long as I can remember. I've nursed you through several broken relationships until you found Suzanne, and you have rightfully dissed every man I have ever gone out with."

That drew some laughter.

"I could never stay mad at you." Then I pulled her into a crushing hug, my back to the audience.

Sam hugged me back; I ignored the applause.

Finally I stepped away from her, handing her the microphone, and said too quietly for anyone else to hear, "But you owe me, and I'm still very hurt."

She nodded, smiling, one tear sliding down her cheek. I looked around, caught Suzanne's eye, and nodded once. On my way back to my place in line, I didn't returned Bonnie's smile. Forgiveness was only going to go so far, and being nice about what they had done wasn't included.

After that, Sam began the bidding. Bonnie was first. She called Bonnie's name, and Bonnie stepped to the front of the stage. "Let the bidding start at one hundred dollars," Sam said.

There was a flurry of bidding mania, and Bonnie's price hit seven hundred dollars in a few seconds. It slowed down after that and appeared to have stalled at twelve hundred and twenty dollars when a new bidder spoke up. Eventually Sam called out, "Sold to number three-twenty-one for fifteen hundred and eighty dollars."

I was surprised by the amount. Not because it was Bonnie, but it was just one date. Granted, it was for charity, but it was just a date. I wondered if the woman who had won the bid had been eyeing Bonnie for some time and finally found a way to get her to go out with her.

Amongst the applause, Bonnie descended the stairs and walked to the woman who had won the bid. They hugged, then the woman took Bonnie's arm, and the two of them stood together to watch the first gentleman be auctioned off.

It took a long time to get to me.

Bonnie wasn't the highest winner. Two of the men went for more, with bachelor number three selling for twenty-two-hundred dollars even, and one of the butch women went for eighteen hundred. No one sold for under eight hundred.

Then the last man was auctioned off and descended to his new date. Sam turned to me, not saying anything, and I stepped up to stand next to her.

"I'm scared," I told her quietly.

"I'm sorry," she replied.

"Let's get this over with."

She nodded and turned to the audience, raising the microphone. "Finally, we have my best friend in the whole world. Ladies, she's a lesbian virgin, and whoever wins her will need to treat her gently and kindly. Or answer to me."

There was laughter at that.

"Remember, I know where you all live. We mailed you your tickets."

There was more laughter.

"Let the bidding start at one hundred dollars."

My price climbed immediately to eight hundred dollars as bidding flew around the room, jumping by one hundred dollars each time. Then it stalled.

A woman stepped forward and raised her voice. "Madam auctioneer," she said to Sam. "Might I ask a question of bachelorette number six?"

Sam looked over at me. I looked the woman over. She was older than I was, but not old, and she was smartly dressed for the evening. I nodded permission for the question and took the microphone from Sam.

"You were tricked into coming here?" she asked.

"Yes. I was here for nearly an hour before I figured it out I was the only straight person in the room. I can be slow."

There was some laughter at that, but it was subdued.

"You stayed," the woman said.

"It's a good charity, and I had promised," I replied.

"Will you be providing a proper date?"

I looked at her. "That depends upon what a proper date is. If a proper date involves getting naked, then no, that is not in the cards." There was laughter at that. "If I am treated properly, then I will treat the evening like I would any other first date with someone I am attracted to."

The woman smiled. "Do you kiss on the first date?"

I returned her smile. "When I've been treated properly."

Her smile grew larger. "Two thousand dollars," she said in a clear voice.

The room was silent, then there was applause. I stared at the woman, stunned at the offer. When the applause died out, a woman on the other side of the room stepped forward. "Twenty-five hundred."

I looked at her. She looked somewhat butch, but she was attractive and expensively dressed, with short blond hair and an athletic figure.

"Three thousand," said the woman who had asked the questions. She turned to look at the other woman. "Going to raise me, Gwendolyn?"

The woman, whose name must be Gwendolyn, said, "How much do you want her, Moira?"

"I just closed on three houses," Moira said. "I'm feeling flush."

Gwendolyn, the attractive butch, said, "Thirty-five hundred."

"This is insane," I said quietly to Sam. "I'm not worth that. Either of them would have more fun with anyone else."

"They want you," she said. "This is what I meant, Pamela. This is why you were last."

"Thirty-eight," said Moira.

"Four thousand," said Gwendolyn. "Surgeons make more than real estate agents, Moira."

Moira looked at me and licked her lips. Then she looked at Gwendolyn. "One moment, madam auctioneer," she said. "I believe the bidding is high enough you can allow a little informality."

Sam nodded to her, and Moira crossed to Gwendolyn. The two talked for a minute then came to some sort of agreement. Moira pulled paper from her purse and handed a sheet to Gwendolyn. I watched as each wrote something on the paper and folded it in half.

"What's going on?" I asked Sam.

"I have no idea."

The rest of the room was quiet, watching things unfold. Finally the two women turned back to the stage. "Madam auctioneer," Moira said. "Gwendolyn and I have an unusual offer for bachelorette number six."

"Oh hell," I said quietly. "They want a date each."

"Looks like it," Sam said. "It's your call."

I thought about it. "What is your offer?" I asked them. I didn't use the microphone, but I projected, and the room was quiet. I was sure everyone heard me.

"We have each written down our offer. For three dates, not one."

The room began to buzz, and I took a small step back, then steeled myself and stepped back up to Sam.

"We wish you to accept both. Whoever's offer is higher gets you for the remainder of the evening, but we each want three dates."

I stared at her. "Will you show me the offers?" I finally asked. She nodded and took Gwendolyn's paper from her. She advanced to the stage and held them up. I bent down and took them from her.

I stood up and opened the first one. It was Moira's bid, the real estate agent. Six thousand dollars. I stared at it then looked at Sam. "Why?" I asked quietly.

"I told you," she said.

I handed it to her then looked at Gwendolyn's, the surgeon. It was for eight thousand dollars. I handed that one to Sam as well. "Do you trust they'll treat me properly?"

"Yes," she said. "Neither of them would hurt you."

"Drug me?"

"No, nothing like that."

I looked at the two of them as they stood next to each other, waiting for my response. "Three first dates."

"Three dates. Each. Proper dates," Moira replied.

"This is crazy," I told her.

"It's for charity," she said. "A good charity."

I looked back at Sam. She was waiting to see what I would do. "Is this allowed?" I asked quietly.

"It's our event and your dates," she said. "We can make up whatever rules we want. You'll have a nice time. Six kisses for fourteen thousand dollars. Or one kiss for four thousand."

I smiled at her then turned to the waiting women.

"You are both sure?" They nodded. I took a breath of air. "Sold."

I was speaking to them, so Sam said into the microphone, "Moira's bid was six thousand dollars. Gwendolyn's was for eight thousand. Pamela will spend the evening with Gwendolyn and three dates each with Moira and Gwendolyn." She paused. "Fourteen thousand dollars for Wishes for Kids."

The applause was thunderous.

In a daze, I stepped past Sam and descended the stairs. I walked up to Moira and hugged her. "You're crazy," I said into her ear. "Please tell me you aren't expecting sex."

"I am expecting a nice time," she said. "It's for charity. I won't abuse your trust. I'll call you to set up our first date."

Then I stepped to Gwendolyn and hugged her as well. "Were you as terrified as you looked?" she asked.

"Yes."

She hugged me a little tighter. "You are wondering if I expect to bed you."

"Yes."

"I will treat you very well, you will do your best to have a nice time, and you will offer to me no more than you are willing. I have no expectations beyond that."

Then she released me but took my arm.

Sam was thanking everyone, and when she was done, she turned the microphone to Suzanne. Suzanne thanked everyone as well, said the silent auction would be open for another hour, and invited us next door to eat.

I felt better about everything, but I still was upset with Sam, Suzanne and Bonnie. I'd get over it. Or so I hoped, anyway.

I glanced over at Gwendolyn. She was smiling at me. I judged her to be upper thirties. She had a firm grip, but when I looked at her hands, they were delicate. I took one. "Surgeon's hands?"

"Vascular surgeon," she said.

"I'm impressed," I told her. She shrugged.

She took my arm again and led me into the next room. Two long tables were reserved for the bachelors and bid winners. Dinner was buffet style with two separate sets of tables set up for the buffet. Gwendolyn and I were ushered towards one set of tables, and when I looked, Moira had been assigned an escort for the evening. I was happy to see she wasn't being neglected.

"Gwendolyn," I said. "I have no idea how I am to behave tonight. Or on our dates. Am I expected to wait on you tonight? You're paying so much money. Is that part of it?"

"No," she said. She paused. "I can see how you might be unsure. Perhaps you should behave like you would on a date with a gentleman. If you can be relaxed, it would make me happy." Then she smiled. "Will it frighten you if I flirt?"

I thought about how to respond. Her smile began to fade.

"Wait," I said. "I wanted to find the right words. The simple answer is no, flirting won't frighten me, and I will return it. There is probably a long answer, but I am not sure what it is."

At that point, I was saved any further thought, as we had reached the food. Gwendolyn stepped in front of me and handed me a plate before taking one for herself. Then as we moved down the line of tables, she dished onto my plate the tidbits I asked for. No man had ever treated me that way, and I decided I liked it. We reached the end, and I followed her to a place at one of the two head tables.

We both sat down with Gwendolyn holding my chair for me before seating herself. A waiter came by offering wine. I whispered to Gwendolyn, "Red would be lovely," and she procured two glasses for us.

Then I stared at her. She caught me staring. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No. You did something right. You're treating me better than I've ever been treated on a date."

She smiled broadly. "Good. Do you enjoy it?"

"Yes. Thank you."

We spent the next minute or two eating our salads, looking over at each other periodically. "Gwendolyn," I said. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Are you being coy?"

"Why am I being coy?" she asked, grinning.

I sighed. "Why did you just offer a very large amount of money for a few dates with me? I imagine any of the other women would have been far more fun. Bonnie, for instance, is at least as attractive as I am, and probably knows how to behave."

She took a sip of her wine before answering with a smile. "First, I came with the intention of donating to the charity. I greatly prefer doing my donations through the local LGBT group this way, as I believe it gives our community good press it desperately needs."

"And you're a surgeon, so this much money probably means a lot less to you than to me. But you still would have had more fun with Bonnie."

She smiled. "First, at least the way you are dressed, you represent my type far more than Bonnie does. Pamela, you are absolutely stunning."

"Thank you." I paused. "This is my only gown of this nature. And my mother paid for it as her way of donating to Wishes For Kids. Otherwise I would have been in the runner up gown. The closest I have after this is an LBD."

"Perhaps for one of our dates, we will do something sufficiently formal you can wear this gown again." I nodded. "But I haven't answered your question completely," she said. "If I were to ask you out in a more normal fashion, what would your response have been?"

"I would tell you I was straight."

"Right. So this is the only way I could get you to go out with me."

"But-"

"I know. Wait." She paused. "I have a hectic schedule, so it would be wrong to say I date a lot. But in my way, I date a lot. I've dated Bonnie. I don't need to make a large donation to charity to go out with her. And there are a lot of gay women who are happy to be my date. You, however, are unique. That makes you a prize."

"Dating a straight girl is going to be just as awkward for you as it will be for me." I looked around. The other bachelors and bachelorettes were all focused on their new dates, and I saw a lot of flirting. Bonnie was practically hanging on her date, who seemed exceedingly happy with the attention. "Everyone else is touching their dates. You're not touching me because you're afraid it will frighten me. Don't you feel cheated?"

"No, I don't." She paused. "Would it frighten you if I touched you?"

"It would depend upon the touch." Gwendolyn was sitting to my left, and my left hand was in my lap. I raised it and brushed the skin of her arm briefly with the back of a finger.

She smiled. "You're being a very good scout for having been set up this way."

I looked away for a minute.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have reminded you."

I drank a little of my wine then looked back at her and smiled. "I'm still angry at Sam. I'm more angry with Bonnie and somewhat unhappy with Suzanne. They should have told me. But I've calmed down about it."

"I thought you forgave her while on stage."

"She was crying. It broke my heart. I forgave her enough that I won't let it destroy the friendship, but when I figured everything out, that's what I thought had happened. I thought she put this event in front of our friendship. I still feel that way. I honestly don't know how to get past that."

It was Gwendolyn's chance to turn away. I reached over with my hand and clutched her arm. "Hey," I said quietly. "I am happy to be here with you."

"You don't want to be here," she said, turning back. "And then we made you accept not one date, but six."

"First, I could have said no," I told her.

"If you had any heart at all, you had to say 'yes'," she said. "The donations were too high. Moira and I are no better than your friends."

"Gwendolyn, please do not go down this path." I paused. "Are you planning anything nefarious with me?"

"Of course not," she said.

"I am happy to be here with you," I said again. "I am looking forward to our dates. I am deeply curious where you will take me. I am equally curious how you will treat me. I am scared I won't measure up, or that you expect more than I can offer."

She looked down at me. "When you figured out what was going on, why did you stay? I think I would have been very angry myself."

"I was going to leave, right after screaming at Sam. I felt deeply betrayed." I thought about it. "I still do. But Bernard slowed me down and asked the right questions."

"Like what?"

"How bad could it be? I'd have a nice time, if perhaps somewhat awkward. That was the big question. He also asked what would I have been willing to do to help out Sam."

"But you're still angry."

"Yes, but I'll get past it. I'll get past it faster if Sam grovels sufficiently. If she doesn't, I imagine this will put a permanent strain in our relationship. I feel like she used me to get out of a problem, and she was dishonest about it. That makes me very sad." I paused. "It would have been difficult, but the three of them could have talked me into this honestly." I paused again. "I could have stormed out. I don't know what that would have done to the event tonight. I was given to believe that people would have felt cheated being short one bachelorette."

"No one would have demanded her ticket price back," Gwendolyn said. "I think people would have been disappointed. It wouldn't have been the end of the world." She paused. "Sam probably wouldn't be invited to help in the future. She may not anyway. Tricking you was poorly done."

We ate quietly for a minute. I finished as much as I wanted and sipped more of my wine.

Our body language was such it was clear we both felt awkward. My touching her arm hadn't been enough. "If I flirt with you, will it frighten you?" I asked.

She laughed, looking at me. "No."

"Good." Then I laid my head on her shoulder. If I was going to do this, then I was going to do it properly, which meant making sure she had a nice time. Within reason.

She stiffened for a moment, then she relaxed and slid her arm around me so her fingers were touching my back through the laces of my gown.

We sat quietly like that for a minute or two before I lifted my head. I felt I'd gotten my message across. I looked up at Gwendolyn. "So, all better?"

She smiled. "What do you do for a living?"

I sighed. "I work in a bank. I have an MBA in finance, and I work as a loan officer in a bank."

"Why the sigh?"

"I had higher hopes. They ran smack dab into the brick wall that is the current economy."

"You don't like working at the bank?"

"It's okay," I said. "But it doesn't exactly have the sort of potential that a proper corporate finance job would have. My MBA was a complete waste, at least so far. I am still looking for finance positions, but I think I'm going to be stuck at the bank for the rest of my life."

"I imagine that's frustrating," she said.

"You clearly worked very hard to get where you are," I told her. "I'd be happy to work just as hard, but it seems pointless right now." I paused. "I'm sorry, I'm coming across as very negative, but that's not really me. Please, tell me about being a vascular surgeon."

She smiled. "You were right. It was a lot of work." She paused. "It takes a very long time, and residency is hell. I don't understand that aspect of our medical system. Who thinks they want surgeons working twenty-four hour shifts? I know the last person I want approaching me with sharp instruments is someone suffering from sleep deprivation."

"Do you like being a surgeon?"

"There's an occupational hazard," she explained. "It's easy to feel we're gods. I fight that, but it can be very difficult. Every time I open someone up, it's a head rush. I absolutely love surgery. I can't imagine doing something else."

"Do you save a lot of lives?"

She paused. "It depends upon what you mean by save. Clients often become clients for life. The things we do extend their lives. But once someone has the sort of problems that requires my expertise, they are probably going to need me again in the future."

"Is it like what you see on TV?"

"Sometimes," she said, laughing. "But not usually."

"It sounds fascinating."

"It's a lot of long days," she said. "That is getting better. I actually am starting to have time to enjoy myself more often. I find I don't have a clue how."

I laughed lightly but could tell she was serious. "So you don't know what you like to do?"

"No. For so long, all I was focused on was my career. Now that I am established and could do other things with my life, I don't know what I want to do with it."

I thought about it. "Do you know where you're going to take me?"

"Well, I thought," she said. She paused. "Dinner?"

"That's a good start," I said. "Then what?"

"I don't know," she admitted.

"Do you dance?"

"Not well. But dinner and dancing might be nice."

I looked at her. "You don't sound convinced." I paused. "What do you normally do with your dates?"

"Buy them a drink then take them back to my apartment."

I gulped. "Oh."

"We could go to a play at the Guthrie."

"Do you enjoy live theater?" I asked her.

"Do you?" she countered.

"It depends upon the show." I paused. "Other than taking me to your apartment, what do you really want to do?"

She looked away. I reached over and grabbed her chin, pulling her back to face me. "I don't need anything fancy to enjoy myself, Gwendolyn." I paused.

"I don't want you to be bored," she said. "And I don't have much to talk about except work."

"Would you like me to plan the dates?" I asked her. "I know exactly what I'd like to do."

"What?"

"Dinner and dancing."

She looked away again. I pulled her back to me. "You don't like to dance?"

"I'm not very good."

"So?"

She stared into my eyes. "I am a surgeon."

"Yes?"

"A very good surgeon."

"You don't like doing something you're not good at?"

"I want you to be impressed."

"So you want to take me to things neither of us will really enjoy in an attempt to convince me you enjoy art forms you don't really care that much about?"

I let her look away that time.

"Would you have fun dancing with me? If not, I'll come up with other ideas."

"Of course I would," she said. "But-"

"But what? You're a vascular surgeon. You just paid a very large amount of money for three dates with me. Do you realize how many months I would have to work to earn that much money? Other than my retirement fund, which is doing okay, my bank accounts have about two thousand dollars total. I won't be impressed if you start throwing money around. I'll just feel inadequate. Is that what you want?"

She turned back to me. "Of course not."

"So, dinner and dancing." I paused. "When is the last time you've been to the north shore of Lake Superior?"

"I've never been there."

"So, a day trip to Gooseberry Falls. If it's nice, we can go hiking. It's a long drive. You'd have to talk to me for hours. Would you enjoy that?"

"Yes, but I don't know what we'd talk about."

"We'd find something. Then, hmm." I thought about it. "Dinner at my place. I'll cook. I'll have a variety of entertainment choices for after dinner." I paused. "None of them involve me getting naked though, all right?"

She smiled. "Those all sound wonderful."

"Excellent."

We finished our dinner, then got up. When we roamed into the first room, we discovered there was music being played by a DJ and a few people were dancing. I looked over at Gwendolyn and smiled.

"Would you care to dance, Pamela?" she asked me.

"I would love to."

Making Sam Grovel

By the time Bernard escorted me home, I was exhausted, but I had a nice time. Gwendolyn treated me very well. I could tell she wanted to kiss me good night. I almost let her, but then she shook my hand and turned away. I was actually a little disappointed. How silly.

I liked her. She was brilliant, of course, and she was more capable of a conversationalist than she thought. I just had to ask the right questions.

In the car, Bernard asked me if I was still angry with Sam.

"Yes," I told him. "I can forgive her, after a fashion, but this has caused a rift, and that hurts quite a lot."

"You seemed to be having a nice time with Gwendolyn," he pointed out.

"Yes," I admitted. "But I was still tricked and feel deeply betrayed. She had plenty of opportunity to tell me. I don't understand why she would let me find out that way." I paused. "I don't know how to get past that. I don't know how this isn't going to damage our friendship."

He didn't have anything else to say about it. "You were very elegant tonight," he said instead. "And you set a record."

"That wasn't me," I said. "That was Moira and Gwendolyn. I still don't understand. Gwendolyn tried to explain, but her explanation doesn't make sense."

"Well, you are being gracious."

I inclined my head in recognition of the praise.

"I have a hard time believing neither of them is expecting sex, for the amount they are paying."

"They might be hoping. That's not the same as expecting."

"I'm going to disappoint them. I feel badly about that. I'll do my best, but I'm sure they're both going to be disappointed." Then I told him about my dates with Gwendolyn. "Should I have come up with better ideas?"

"No," he said, smiling. "Those are actually nice. You're really going to cook for her?"

"Yes. Is that a secret signal I should know about?"

He laughed. "No. Unless she starts talking about toaster ovens."

"Oh, I've already heard about that one," I said. "Convert a straight girl to gay and the lesbian headquarters sends you a toaster oven." I laughed. "So silly."

We arrived home with the conversation remaining light. Bernard walked me to the front door and waited for me to unlock it. We hugged and I kissed him on the cheek before he saw me into the house.

"Thank you, Bernard. You were great tonight."

"You're welcome, Pamela. Thank you for helping make our event such a success." He paused. "I know it was difficult. Try to forgive your friends."

"I'm trying, but there is a rift." I sighed. "Good night."

I closed the door behind him and leaned against it. My home was small: three bedrooms, one and a half baths in a first ring suburb. My parents had helped with the purchase like they'd helped with so much else in my life. I could barely afford the payments, but it was home. I kept no animals, but I loved house plants.

I set my small purse down and walked into the bedroom. I carefully slithered out of the gown and hung it up in the closet, then removed the rest of the clothing before slipping on a boring pair of undies and a bathrobe. I moved to the bathroom and began removing makeup.

That's when I heard my front door open. I hadn't locked it.

"Pamela?" I heard Sam's voice from my living room.

"You scared the crap out of me!" I yelled. I stepped out of the bedroom and found Sam, Suzanne and Bonnie waiting for me in my living room. Bonnie was holding a bottle of wine. All three were still in their formal clothes from the gala. I felt underdressed in my bathrobe, but we'd all had slumber parties before, so it was no big deal.

"What?" I said, one hand on my hip. They better be here to grovel.

"It wasn't her fault," Suzanne said. "It was mine."

"You held a gun to her head and threatened to pull the trigger if she told me?"

"Will you let us explain?" she asked.

I sighed. "Fine. But right now there is a huge rift, and I don't know how I can ever trust any of you again."

"Can we sit? Open the wine?"

I looked between the three of them. Sam knew I was upset and looked exceedingly guilty. I couldn't read either Bonnie's or Suzanne's expressions.

"Fine," I said, grabbing a chair and curling up in it, my feet tucked under me. "Which of you thought this would be a fun joke to pull on me?"

"I'll open the wine," Bonnie said, heading to the kitchen. Sam and Suzanne took places on the sofa, leaving the other easy chair for Bonnie when she returned.

"No one thought of it as a joke," Sam said quietly.

"Pamela," Suzanne said. "We were in trouble. We had advertised twelve people, and every year we try to include a woman who is a little exotic. We had two this year, and they both cancelled."

"Exotic? I couldn't be less exotic. Why me?"

"You're straight. That makes you exotic. You're attractive, and in that gown, you were ravishingly stunning. The way the auction went proves we were right about that."

I stared at her. "Digging your hole deeper, Suzanne."

"I'm sorry. I'm just trying to say, you fit the role of exotic bachelorette number six. Will you grant that?"

I thought about it. "Fine. But you should have told me."

"I wanted to," Sam said. "Whenever your name came up, I said 'no'. Just like I did over dinner last week."

"She did," Bonnie said, coming back into the room with the wine and four wine glasses. She set the glasses down and began pouring. "She told us we weren't discussing it. But she was out of options, so I brought it up."

"And then you jumped on it," Suzanne said.

"I tried to stop you," Sam said. "But you gave me The Look. Pamela, I was screwing up the event, and I made a bad call. I should have ignored your look and told you, but you said 'yes', and I was so relieved, because I knew you would be great."

"She tried to call you later that night," Suzanne said. "And I argued with her until it was too late to call you. Then I made sure everything made it to the printer before she could decide to ignore me and tell you anyway. Once it was at the printer, the cost of you cancelling was too high."

Bonnie handed me my wine. I'd had enough alcohol, but I took it anyway. She handed out the other glasses and sat down in the other easy chair. The three of them looked at me to see what I'd say. I just stared at them.

"You set a record," Suzanne said. "Our previous high was nine thousand."

"For one date?"

She nodded. "Tonight's turn was unique for us. Moira knew she couldn't outbid Gwendolyn, so she came up with that offer so they could both win, and in doing so, set a new record for us."

"It's ridiculous," I said. "They're both going to expect me to put out. They're going to feel cheated. I know it's for charity, but that's a ridiculous amount of money."

"They don't expect you to put out," Suzanne said. "They expect good night kisses. They might be hoping for a make out session, but they understand that's unlikely. They both wanted to provide a nice donation to charity, and they're tickled pink at the results."

"I watched you with Gwendolyn," Sam said. "Moira did, too. The three of us talked after you left. Pamela, you had a nice time with her."

"That's not the point."

"I know it's not the point about how we set you up. But I'm getting somewhere." I thought about it and nodded. "You had a nice time. You flirted with Gwendolyn. You went out of your way to put her at ease. Gwendolyn has never really dated."

"She says she has all the dates she wants."

"She has one night stands. It's not the same thing as having a relationship."

"She's not going to have a relationship with me, either!"

"You're teaching her how to court you," Sam said. "She doesn't have a clue how to do that. What do you think that's worth to her?"

"She doesn't have a clue how to have fun," Bonnie said. "And when I've gone out with her, she has bought me an expensive dinner then immediately takes me home. She's a very good lover, but that's all she is."

I stared at Bonnie.

"She knows there's more to life than work and sex," Sam said. "But she doesn't have a clue what it is. If she had won a gay woman tonight, it would be the same thing. Dinner and sex. With you, sex is off the table, and she has to work to get a kiss. You are exactly what she needs, and she knows it. She wants you to play hard to get."

"It won't be playing," I said. "And I don't think it's going to be hard, I think it's going to be impossible." I paused. "Unless she were to drug me."

"She wouldn't," Suzanne said. "That's not something you need to worry about, I absolutely promise you."

"I'm not sure your promises mean that much right now," I said. "But I'll try to put it out of my head."

She winced at my words, and then had the grace to look contrite.

"What about Moira?"

"Moira is exceedingly sweet," Bonnie said. "Everyone loves her."

"Moira watched you with Gwendolyn," Sam said. "It was clear you were still upset, but she was impressed with how gracious you were. She is going to flirt your ass off, but if you want more than a goodnight kiss, you're going to have to invite her. She won't pressure you."

I looked between the three of them.

"I'm sorry," Sam said. "I should have told you that first night." She paused. "For our friendship, I should have told you after. I know you felt betrayed. I will never, ever give you another reason to feel that way again."

"All right," I said. "But I am still upset."

Suzanne said, "Pamela, is there anything we could have done to have convinced you that you were the right person? I think we could have convinced you to do it, but you wouldn't have believed you were the right choice. True?"

I thought about it. Yes, they may have been able to convince me to do it, but I would have expected Bonnie's offer to win. I admitted that.

"Would you have bought that gown?"

"No. I'd have worn my LBD."

"In hindsight, was the gown the right choice?"

I laughed weakly. "Yes."

"How do you feel about everything else?" she asked.

I thought about it. "I liked Gwendolyn. And, well, I guess there's a bit of an ego trip, too. I'm nervous as hell, but having two women paying so much for a few dates with me is awfully flattering."

"Do you think you'll have fun on your dates?"

"Yes, actually, I do."

"Will you do your best to make sure Gwendolyn and Moira do as well?"

"Yes." I paused. "I might allow tongue."

Bonnie laughed. "Sure, for them you allow tongue."

I let the three of them cajole me into a better mood. Eventually I got up from my chair and made Sam move over on the sofa, then sat down next to her and leaned against her.

By the time they left, I was looking forward to my dates.

* * *

My phone rang Sunday evening. I didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?"

"Hello," said a woman's voice. "This is Moira Jenkins. We met last night."

"Moira," I said warmly. "Hello. It's good to hear your voice."

We chatted amiably for several minutes before she asked, "Are you worried about why I called?"

I laughed. "Not at all, Moira. I'm looking forward to our dates."

"It's sweet of you to say that," she said. "It was clear you weren't happy last night."

"I know," I said. "But Gwendolyn was very kind and treated me better than any guy I've ever gone out with. I am told you are very sweet. And Sam stopped by last night and groveled beautifully."

She laughed.

"So, I am looking forward to our dates. I am also told to expect you to flirt my ass off."

"Is that a problem?"

"No. I can't promise I'm very good at flirting back."

I could hear her smile over the phone. "Is it going to be a problem to flirt with another woman in public, where other people can see you?"

"Bonnie flirts with me all the time. I usually deflect it, because I'm afraid of encouraging her, but sometimes I go with it. We can get pretty outrageous, up until she carries it too far and I have to shut it down. So no, I'm going to have fun. I just don't want to lead you on."

"I understand," she said. "Do you like to cook?"

"I do," I said. "Did you want me to cook for you?"

"I was wondering if you were free for a cooking class on Tuesday. There's a truffles making class at the Kitchen Window." The Kitchen Window was the best cooking school in the city, and I loved their classes. I'd never taken the truffles class.

"Really?" I asked. "I'd love to go!"

"Fabulous," Moira said. "A light dinner first? How early could I pick you up?"

"I usually work until five," I told her. "And I would need to come home, freshen up, and change clothes. But that squeezes us for time, so I'll arrange to come home early. I could be ready by five thirty. Does that work?"

"That is perfect," she said. She already had my address, but confirmed it. "I'll try to get you home at a decent time." Then she paused. "How long would you give me for our other two dates?"

"Overnight would be pushing it," I told her. "If you were to ask, I'd get nervous."

"No, that's not what I was thinking," she said. "But all day Saturday? Would that be okay? I'd pick you up early and get you home late. If that doesn't interfere with Gwendolyn's plans for you."

"I'm seeing her on Friday," I said. "All day Saturday would be fine. Are you going to tell me more?"

"How daring are you?" she asked me.

I grew a little quiet. "Everything is relative," I told her eventually.

"Oh honey," she said. "Are you really that nervous?"

"I'm sorry, Moira," I said. "This is a little new for me."

"Understandable. I'm not asking you for sex. I'm wondering if you would like an adventure. I want to surprise you with the details, but I need to know how adventurous you are."

I thought about it. "Are you going to ask me to jump out of an airplane?"

"Not quite, although if I had, would you have said yes?"

I caught myself grinning. "I've always wanted to try that." I paused. "But you know, I don't know if that's really date material."

"So you aren't afraid of airplanes? Even small airplanes?"

"Not at all."

"I don't want to tell you any more details," she said. "I'll have to watch the weather, but I have something in mind for next Saturday. I'll tell you what to wear later in the week."

"This all sounds very mysterious," I told her.

"I may change my mind what I want us to do," she said. "Once I get to know you a little better and can judge what you may enjoy."

"You could simply ask," I told her.

She laughed. "Where's the fun in that?" She paused. "Plan on Saturday, probably something adventurous."

"I'm looking forward to it," I told her.

After that, we talked for a while longer. She asked me what sorts of foods I liked to cook and we compared recipes. I asked her about her job.

"I'm a real estate agent," she said. "I think I mentioned that last night."

"You said you had closed on three houses. I'm a mortgage loan officer." We talked about the bank where I worked for a minute. She told me about the houses she had sold. As she talked, I could hear the passion in her voice. She loved her job.

"You don't sound thrilled about your job though," she observed.

"It's okay." I explained further then said, "I don't mind doing mortgages. I like when I can help someone. But I have to say 'no' to so many people, and I don't like that. And ultimately, it's not why I earned an MBA."

I heard the smile again in her voice, but she changed the topic. We talked for a little longer before hanging up.

Bonnie had been right. Moira was sweet. I decided I liked her.

Truffles

I was nervous at work on Tuesday. I was sure I'd have a nice time, but I was afraid of disappointing Moira. Still, I got through the day and left the bank at four. I got home, took a fresh shower, and then spiffed up.

For the class, I wore a little black dress, nylons, and heels. I was a little worried I'd be spending too many hours on my feet. I had taken classes at the Kitchen Window before. Usually you get to sit, but sometimes you spend most of the class standing. Still, I wanted to dress to impress, so that's what I did.

Moira rang my doorbell promptly at five thirty. I was ready for her. I opened the door, and we stared at each other for a moment.

"You look great," she told me.

"So do you," I said. She was dressed in her own dress. It was red and stunning. I invited her in.

"Cute house," she said. "If you ever need an agent." She was grinning when she said it. I laughed.

I gave her a quick tour. It didn't take long. We finished back in the living room near the front door. She turned to me and said, "Your home is very lovely. Thank you for showing it to me." She paused. "Are you nervous?"

"Yes."

"So am I," she admitted. "I am afraid of disappointing you."

I laughed. "I'm the one who should be afraid," I said. "You're paying a lot of money for this date."

"How about this? We agree to have a good time and not worry about the rest?"

"Deal," I said, holding out my hand to shake on it. We did, but once she had hold of my hand, she kept it. I decided to let her. When I didn't pull away, she smiled, a smile that extended to her eyes.

She had little crow's feet. She was older than I was. I guessed she was about forty. But she was beautiful, and her smile was infectious.

"I need to grab a pashmina," I said. "And then I am ready to go."

She released my hand, and I disappeared into my bedroom. I had set the pashmina on the bed, so I only had to grab it. I was still holding it in my arms when I returned to the living room. She took it from me and then draped it over my shoulders. She had to stand close to me to do it, and I found myself staring up into her eyes.

She stared down into mine for a moment, then turned, setting her hand on my back to guide me towards the front door. I grabbed my purse, held the door for her, then locked up as we left. I let her take my hand on the way to her car.

Moira led me to her car. It was a typical realtor's car, large for carrying clients between houses, and stylish. She opened my door and held it for me. I smiled at her before settling in. I watched her checking out my legs and smiled again.

"I am busted," she said when she climbed in on her side.

In response, I pulled the hem of my dress up another inch. She laughed. "You can keep going if you want."

"Oh, not quite yet," I said. "You need to work for it."

She started the car and backed out of my driveway. I waited until she was looking to the left before putting my arm on the rest between us where she could touch me if she wanted to. She made the left turn onto the crossroad that would lead to the freeway entrance before noticing my arm.

I saw her glance down at it before returning her focus to the road. Then I saw her smile and reach over with her right hand to caress my wrist before putting her hands back on the wheel. It felt nice.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?"

"Please don't be coy." She glanced down at my hand again. "I am a cautious driver. Will the invitation to touch you remain open once we are in public?"

"Yes," I told her.

She touched me briefly twice more during the drive, but by and large she kept her focus on driving. We talked about cooking, always a safe subject. We compared notes. She liked to do large entertaining, such as family holidays and dinner parties. "I live alone, so for myself I tend to keep things simple."

"I know what you mean. I do the same thing, but I enjoy cooking for up to four. Sam, Suzanne and Bonnie come over often, and in the past I've cooked for my boyfriends." I paused. "They seem to take it for granted."

"Don't you hate that?" she said. "You spend days planning a meal, looking up extra special recipes, trying to find just the right ingredients, and worrying that someone is going to have exactly the foods he or she likes, and then they act like it was easy."

"Bonnie is actually my most appreciative guest," I said. "I can never tell if she is serious, but there are days she acts like she's having orgasms from something I've made. Even if it's an act, I appreciate it."

We chatted back and forth about that before I asked her, "How did you know to invite me to a cooking class? Did you ask Sam?"

"No. It's a truffles class. You would have to hate chocolate to hate the class."

I laughed. "Fair enough. Moira, this is absolutely perfect. Thank you."

She caressed my arm briefly again.

We arrived at Calhoun Square and parked in the ramp. Moira turned the car off and turned to face me, her hand reaching out to rest on my arm. "Pamela?" She paused. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Are you wondering how much flirting I can tolerate?"

"Yes."

"Keep it tasteful and I will tell you if it's too much." I paused. "I'll flirt back, but Moira. It's just flirting. I am here with you to have a nice time." I paused. "Will you tell me if I am disappointing you?"

"With what you just said, I won't be disappointed, Pamela." She looked down at her hand caressing my arm. "This is really all right?"

"Yes. It's nice. I'll be disappointed if you stop."

Her smile grew and she nodded.

We climbed out of the car together and met at the back. She took my arm, and we held hands as we walked through the parking lot. She released me at the doors to the mall so that she could hold doors for me, then took my hand again once inside the mall.

"Dinner is here?"

"I hope you like French cooking."

"I do. I like most foods."

There was a table waiting for us at a nice French restaurant. The restaurant was upscale, with cloth tablecloths and linens. Moira held my chair for me. She sat to my left.

As soon as we were both seated, she had her hand on my arm, her fingers still, just barely touching me. We smiled briefly.

"How do you feel about sharing?" she asked me.

"It depends," I said. "On whether I like whatever you order."

She smiled. We agreed on two dishes, and we each ordered tea.

Moira was an excellent conversationalist, deftly steering our conversation between topics. She asked me about my job, complemented me on my appearance, and thanked me again for volunteering myself for the auction.

"Will you do it again?" she asked.

I laughed. "I haven't finished my involvement for this time, and you're asking about next year." I paused. "Somehow I don't think I'd be quite the novelty next year."

She smiled. "You might not achieve quite the success you did this year, but you would still do well." She stroked my arm while staring into my eyes. It was very pleasant, and I closed my own eyes, enjoying the attention.

"You like this?" she asked, continuing to stroke my arm.

I nodded my head slightly.

We sat quietly, my eyes closed, while Moira lightly stroked my arm. I wasn't used to this, not at all. She turned my hand over and extended her touch into the palm of my hand, running the ball of two fingers up and down my arm and into my hand.

Finally I opened my eyes and looked at her. She was staring at me intently. I looked between her eyes and her hand. She was making me tingly. I squirmed a little.

"Too much?" She asked. "Do I need to stop?"

"No." I paused. "No one has ever done that to me before."

"Seriously?"

"Will you sit on my other side later?" I asked with a grin.

She laughed lightly. "Yes."

I closed my eyes and enjoyed the touching. "Am I being greedy?"

"No. I would do this all night if you let me."

I squirmed again and opened my eyes. "I'm sure the arm would become over stimulated."

"I will just have to vary my touches then."

We sat quietly after that. Our food arrived, and I was deeply disappointed when Moira stopped touching me to serve us. She caught my sigh.

"Was that a request for more later?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure you're straight?" she asked.

I smiled. "Is that a question on the form?"

"What form?"

"The one you send in to claim your toaster oven."

She laughed loudly. "Are you telling me I'm going to win a toaster oven?"

"No, but if everything you do feels as nice as that did, maybe you'll win a toaster. Or at least some toast."

She laughed again.

I was disappointed she couldn't eat left-handed so she could continue to caress me. She asked me more about my job. I answered somewhat perfunctorily.

"Bad topic?"

"Not really. I'm good at my job, but most days it feels like I'm little more than a clerk. It's a good job, and it's important. I just feel like I landed in the wrong spot."

"Maybe a fresh opportunity will roll your way."

"Maybe." Then I asked her what she liked most about her job, and while she was talking, I stole a piece of chicken from her plate.

"Every piece of food you steal from my plate is one kiss I get later," she told me, smiling.

I made a point of thinking about it. She watched me. "Going to steal another one?"

"I'm wondering how many truffles I'm going to try to steal later," I admitted.

"Truffles are two kisses each. With tongue."

I laughed and stole another piece of chicken from her.

Her eyes grew wide at that. "Are you really going to pay for those later?"

"If you don't get cocky, I might." I paused, smiled, then said, "And if my arms get more of that lovely attention."

After that I got her to tell work stories about some of her clients. I asked her what her favorite house was.

"When I first became an agent, I helped this young couple buy a small house in South Minneapolis," she said. "I really had to go to bat to get them into the house, including a cut in my commission to help with the price. Three years ago, Debbie won the dot com lottery when the company she was working for was sold. Two years ago, they came to me and asked me to help them find a house on Lake Minnetonka. It took us nine months, but they ended up buying an absolutely fabulous home." She described the house.

"It sounds amazing."

"Debbie's mother joined us for some of the house viewings we did. After the third day out with us, right in front of me, she told Debbie flat out she was making a big mistake using me as an agent."

"Oh wow, how rude!"

"She had one point. I didn't know the Lake Minnetonka market as well as another agent might, but we sell hours all over town all the time."

"What happened?"

"Also in front of me, Debbie pointed out everything I had done the first time around. Then she clearly stated that as far as she was concerned, she would never buy or sell a home in Minnesota without me."

"Wow! Customer satisfaction."

She nodded. "I almost started crying. Debbie walked over, gave me a big hug and kiss on the cheek. It took another six months, but we found the perfect house. Debbie invited me to the housewarming. Her mother was there and cornered me."

"Oh no."

"No, it was okay. She asked me how long the house had been on the market. I told her I had shown it to Debbie and Ryan three hours after the initial paperwork had been signed, and it wasn't even in the system when we stepped inside. Dear Old Mom nodded and apologized to me."

At that point, Moira smiled then stole a piece of chicken back off my plate. I laughed. "What do I get for that?"

"More stroking."

"Have more chicken." I slid my plate slightly closer to her.

She laughed and took one more small piece.

By then we were both done eating, but we had time before our class. We sat at the table and drank our tea. Moira began casually stroking my arm again, and I moved slightly closer to her, closing my eyes.

"I am having a lovely time," she said a few minutes later.

"So am I," I admitted. "Thank you."

"Would you like to wander through the store before our class?"

I opened my eyes and looked at her. "Getting bored touching me?"

She smiled. "I want to move to the other arm."

"Let's go!"

She led the way out of the restaurant. As soon as we were back in the mall, she took my right hand in her left and began slowly stroking my arm with her right as we walked slowly through the mall.

I looked down at my arm and over at her.

"This is still all right?" she asked quietly.

"Yes. I'm feeling selfish though."

She smiled. "You're giving me a huge ego trip. Please just enjoy this."

Kitchen Window was a short walk through the mall. We presented ourselves at the front desk. "The class room will be open in about twenty minutes," the woman said. "But we have a shopping list if you were thinking about buying what you might need to make truffles at home."

She held out a sheet of paper. Moira took it from her, and we looked at it together.

I had offered to cook for Gwendolyn, but for some reason, making truffles for her seemed like it would be cheating on Moira. I certainly wasn't going to make truffles for myself, or make them all that often regardless.

I looked at Moira, wondering what she was thinking.

"If we make them at home for other people, it's going to feel weird," she said.

"Yeah."

I watched her think about it. "Until I've had my third date from you, I don't want you making truffles for anyone other than me," she said. "And I want a three-month moratorium afterwards before you make them for some guy."

I laughed. "How about my father?"

She smiled. "Oh, all right. You can make them for your father."

We wandered through the store, finding the items in the list. Moira took to standing behind me while we looked at something together, her arms wrapped around me slightly with her hands on my arms. I could feel her breath on my neck. At one point I turned around, and our lips were inches apart.

"Not yet," I told her quietly. "But I am enjoying being here with you."

She nodded.

Neither of us needed very many of the items on the list. I was becoming increasingly distracted by Moira's warmth behind me. Before we were done shopping, I waited until she was standing behind me again and turned my head to look at her.

"I don't want you to back off," I said. "This is nice. But sort of hold it at this point. Is that all right?"

She nodded. "More than all right."

She did back off a little, which disappointed me, but she stayed close and I could feel her warmth. She continued to touch me at every opportunity. My arms were starting to become over stimulated from the attention, and I didn't know what to offer instead.

She did. She shifted behind me while we were looking at candy thermometers. I had one, but Moira didn't. She shifted slightly to my right and then I felt her hand move from my arm to my shoulder, then slide down my back and rest on my hip. She gave me momentary shivers, but when she did it again, it felt nice. I leaned against her slightly in encouragement, just for a moment.

We added one of the candy thermometers to our basket and moved to the registers, separating my purchases from hers. She offered to pay for mine, but I refused. We each paid and had enough time to drop our bags off at her car. We held hands during the walk.

The cooking school is directly above the store. We arrived just as the instructor and two assistants were opening the doors. I had attended a couple of classes with this instructor before and had really liked her. She knew Moira on sight. Moira introduced me.

"You look familiar," she said.

"I took your bread class two years ago," I told her. "And a sushi class last year. I think you taught that."

She nodded.

"I sold Mandy her house," Moira told me. "That's how I learned about the cooking school."

Mandy led us to the best seats for the class then turned to greet her next students. Moira turned me to face her. "Which side do you want me on?"

I laughed. "My arms are over-stimulated, but I don't want you to stop."

"You have two legs," she said mischievously.

I sat down in the left of the two seats we'd been given and Moira took the right. After we settled in, Moira took my hand while we looked around.

The cooking school was a beautiful place of wood, stainless steel, and bright lights. We were seated towards the middle. This was to be a participation class, meaning we would get to try everything ourselves, but Mandy would be demonstrating everything first, and we had front row seats.

One of the attendants stopped by and asked what we would like to drink. "Herbal tea for me," I said. Moira asked for the same. Then we turned slightly sideways to face each other.

She was studying me. I wasn't sure why. I felt she was looking for something. I studied her back.

All this was very strange for me. I was on a date with a woman, a woman nearly ten years older than I was. She was treating me better than any man ever had, and I found myself drawn to her. She had an infectious smile and was very sweet and kind. I loved the way she made my nerve endings tingle when she touched me.

I started to wonder if I had been missing out on something all along. Why couldn't guys be as sweet as her? Had I just gone out with the wrong guys? Or was there something inherently different between how I was going to be treated by a woman. Was it just Moira and not women in general.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Not exactly," I said. "I am having an amazing time."

"Then why do you suddenly look so concerned?"

"I was contrasting this date with all my past dates."

"And?"

"I was wondering if I've been missing out all along."

She stared at me for a minute, perhaps wondering if I were just teasing her. I watched a variety of expressions cross her face. "Are you just flirting?" she asked finally.

"No. That's exactly what I was wondering. Perhaps in more detail."

Then she began to smile, and the room lit up with her smile. "Pamela, that is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."

I squeezed her hand. "So then I started analyzing everything," I told her. "There are a lot of factors. It could be I was dating the wrong guys. It could be simply a maturity factor, that if I'd dated guys a little-" I was about to say "older".

"A little closer to my age?" she offered.

I smiled. "Perhaps my experiences would have been more like this." I paused. "But I don't think so." I shrugged. "I can't imagine a date with Bonnie being like this, though. She'd be spending the entire time trying to turn up the heat. She's a lot like a guy that way."

"I've been doing that," she said.

"Yes, but you know how to cook without burning the meal."

She laughed. "That could be maturity."

"Maybe. Maybe it's unique to you. Maybe you're being especially cautious with me tonight." I paused. "I'm babbling now. But that's what I was thinking about. I tend to over-analyze. It's an occupational hazard."

"It's cute," she said. "And thank you for the myriad of complements. They mean a lot to me."

"Did I earn more stroking?"

She laughed. "I thought you were over stimulated."

In response I released her hand and rolled my arm over so my palm was up and my fingers were resting on her leg. She shifted slightly and returned to her light strokes. Somehow they were different from before, giving me a new set of sensations to enjoy.

I enjoyed the stroking then leaned into her and said, "I love that. I don't want you to stop. But I need to get my head back on to enjoy the class."

"I know," she said quietly. "You want me to back off?"

"Enough I can think again." I paused. "For now."

"I make it hard to think?"

"You make it impossible."

"Oh, I am so getting that toaster oven," she said.

I laughed. "Not tonight. Moira-"

"It was a joke."

"I know. If you turn that into a goal, it's going to ruin our time together."

"I know. I am focusing on making sure we have a nice time. That's all."

She went back to holding my hand. I missed the stroking, but I was able to reengage my brain and dig through the information packets we'd been given.

After that, Moira kept things between us on a slow simmer. I don't think we spent more than a few seconds at a time where we weren't touching, but the touches were less distracting.

In the end, we learned to make several types of truffles, ending with a selection of truffles we'd made ourselves on our plates. I waited until Moira was distracted and stole one from her. When she turned back, I was slowly enjoying it. She looked between me, clearly enjoying her truffle, and her plate, counting the contents.

"Cheeky girl," she said quietly. "Are you going to pay for that one?"

"What do I get if you steal one from me?" I asked between nummy chocolaty bites.

"Stroking of any exposed skin I can find," she said.

I smiled. "You seemed to like the dark chocolate ones."

She smiled and stole one from me. We stared into each other's eyes while we ate or stolen truffles.

After that, we packaged up our remaining treats and thanked Mandy and the attendants for a fabulous class. Moira helped me resettle my pashmina over my shoulders, and we headed for her car, holding hands.

When we got to her car, I got in her way, stepping into her arms and laying my head on her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around me.

"Hey," she said.

I squeezed her. "Thank you," I said.

We stood like that for a moment before I pulled away. She held me from pulling very far and lifted my chin. I knew she wanted to kiss me.

I turned my head away. "Not yet," I said. "Not in a parking ramp. This isn't what I want to remember as our first kiss."

She sighed. "You're right. I wasn't thinking."

I looked back at her. She looked a little unhappy.

"Maybe you can think of somewhere better." I paused. "It's too chilly tonight to go very far outside."

She smiled. "I was working on the assumption there would be a good night kiss on your front doorstep."

"That was my assumption," I agreed. I paused. "I don't want our first kiss to be in this ramp or parked in your car. Nor do I want an excessive audience."

She nodded, squeezed me once more, then opened my car door for me. I slipped in.

As soon as we were clear of the parking ramp, I slipped my hand over, setting it on her leg. She lowered her hand and placed it over mine for a moment before returning both hands to the wheel.

She took me home. I was slightly disappointed she hadn't come up with something more interesting but decided it was okay. We climbed out of the car, and she took my arm, leading to the door. I didn't turn to her when we got to the door but immediately unlocked it. I looked over at her. She was watching me carefully, perhaps judging my body language.

I spoke in a low voice. "Please come in. Would you like a cup of tea?"

She smiled. "Yes, I would."

I stepped inside and held the door for her, closing the door after she was inside. I set my shopping bag from Kitchen Window down and turned to her, shrugging so the pashmina dipped from my shoulders to college in the crooks of my arms. I stepped closer and looked up at her.

My heart was pounding as she stepped closer. From inches away we stared into each other's eyes, and I saw her swallow once. She reached up and caressed my cheek. I leaned my face into her hand, earning a smile.

Then she stepped closer, her other hand coming up to cup the back of my head. She had one hand on my chin and the other behind my head, and slowly she pulled my lips toward hers, lowering her head.

I leaned forward and closed my eyes.

"Is this my goodnight kiss?" she asked from inches away.

I shook my head slightly.

She pulled me towards her slightly more. I felt my lips part slightly, and I caught my breath as our lips touched.

As soon as I felt her lips touch mine, my brain shut off, but my body responded to her immediately. I wrapped my arms around her. My heart began pounding even harder, and I felt myself grow flushed.

It was a soft, sweet, gentle kiss, but she let it last, stealing my breath before she finally pulled away.

I stood there on the verge of a swoon, but finally my eyelids fluttered open. I found myself staring into her eyes, still only a few inches away. I looked through my eye lashes at her, smiling softly.

"Did Sam ever kiss you like that?"

"No. Bonnie has been trying, She even successfully got me drunk once and tried, but I fended her off."

"Was that your first romantic kiss from a woman?"

I nodded.

She pulled me into an embrace, and I laid my head onto her shoulder, my nose buried in her neck and my arms wrapped around her neck. She held me like that for a while.

"What kind of tea would you like?" I asked her.

"As much as I would like to stay, I need to leave your second kiss for Gwendolyn."

"But I owe you more," I said.

"I will collect them next time."

Had I disappointed her? I pulled out of her arms. She let me slip away from her. I stood in front of the picture window, looking outside, my back to her and my arms around my elbows. I realized I was disappointed and embarrassed.

"I understand," I said finally.

She stepped up behind me, wrapping her arms around me. I tried to shrug her off.

"No," she said firmly. "Let me hold you. You don't understand."

She pulled me against her but I remained stiff.

"If I collect those kisses, I'm not going to stop," she said. "And Gwendolyn deserved the first kiss. She paid more. At the very least, I need to leave her the second one. I am not rejecting you."

I thought about it then leaned against her. "Moira, this has been the best date I've ever had. Thank you so much."

"Oh honey," she said, tightening her arms around me.

I slipped my pashmina off my arms entirely, dropping it to a nearby chair while still leaning against her. I had to wriggle a little to do it, and I heard Moira catch her breath.

"Sorry," I said.

"Don't be sorry," she said directly into my ear.

"Could I have a little more stroking before you go?"

She kissed my ear. "Yes." And her hands began lightly caressing my arms while I continued to lean against her. I closed my eyes and sighed.

I was very confused about what I was feeling. All I knew was I wasn't going to figure it out tonight. I didn't know if I was attracted to Moira exactly, but I certainly loved the way she treated me, and I wanted more of it.

I soaked up the attention for a minute or two before capturing her hand. I pulled her back to the door, then turned around suddenly so her arms were around me. "Gwendolyn can have the third," I told her. "Please give me one more kiss to remember."

She smiled and immediately lowered her lips to mine.

I felt my knees grow weak right away, but her arms were wrapped around me, and I clutched at her. I parted my lips slightly, but she didn't take the invitation, so I teased her lips lightly with my own tongue. She mewled into the kiss and pulled me more tightly against her.

Eventually, with us both breathing hard, she pulled away. I opened my eyes and saw she was flushed.

"Thank you, Moira," I said. "You've given me an amazing evening and are leaving me very confused."

"Confused? I thought I was clear."

"You were. I'm confused about my own reactions." I laid my head on her shoulder again. "You were amazing. Best date ever. Thank you."

"You are welcome, Pamela. I had an amazing time, too."

"Will you call me?"

"Yes." She paused. "Now you have to let me go."

I slipped out of her arms but smiled at her, then opened the door and held it for her. As she slipped past me, I caught her hand and squeezed it once more. She squeezed back and smiled, and then she slipped out the door.

From the doorway, I watched her walk to her car. She turned around at the driver's door and saw me watching her. She blew me a kiss before climbing into her car. I stood there watching while she drove away then slowly closed the front door.

I leaned against the door, happier than I'd been in a very long time. I sighed, kicked off my shoes, and dug through my purse for my phone.

It was late, but I sent a text to Sam. "Do not tell Bonnie!" Then I sent a second text. "Best. Date. Ever."

My phone rang thirty seconds later. I answered it and said, "Thank you," to Sam.

She started squealing into the phone at me. "Am I forgiven?"

"Yes. I know it's late. Can you come over?"

"Are you okay?"

"I need to talk to you. If it's too late, can you come tomorrow?"

"Twenty minutes."

"Front door is unlocked. I'll be taking a cold shower."

She started squealing again before she hung up.

I ended up skipping the shower but climbed into silk pajamas and a robe. I didn't want to lose the feel of Moira's fingers on my arms and her warm body against my back or the taste of her lips on my mouth.

I made a pot of herbal tea then curled up on my sofa, waiting for Sam. I stared into space, thinking about the night and trying to figure out what was going on with me. Sam arrived a few minutes later and let herself in the front door.

She saw me sitting on the sofa.

"Did you shower?"

"I decided I didn't want to wash the feelings off."

She began squealing again, then bounced over to the sofa and plopped down next to me, hugging me. "Tell me everything!"

I poured her a cup of tea first, setting the pot down where she could reach it, then told her about the date. She sat next to me, practically bouncing with joy.

I told her every little detail. "Oh, do you want a truffle?"

"Gimme!"

I pointed to my shopping bag near the front door. "In there. You can have two."

She popped off the sofa and grabbed the shopping bag, bringing it back with her, and began pawing through it. She found the truffles and took them out. When she opened the container, I described each one. She picked one and bit into it, a look of appreciation lighting her face.

"You made this?" she said between bites.

I nodded. "Well, Moira and I together made them."

Sam finished the truffle then went poking through them to pick another one. She finally settled on one and made blissful sounds while eating it. "You can make more of these for me," she said.

I laughed and told her my agreement with Moira.

Sam ate the second truffle slowly, then got up and visited the bathroom to wash her hands. She came back and plopped down on the sofa, sitting crosswise and looking at me. "Am I really forgiven?"

"Completely. But Sam, I'm so confused."

"Oh honey, why?"

"I didn't want her to leave."

Her eyes grew wide and she glanced towards the bedroom. I nodded. "You can't tell Bonnie! I'll never fend her off if she finds out I'm susceptible."

"You're now wondering if you're gay?"

"I've never had a guy make me feel like she does." I thought about it. "And my time with Gwendolyn on Saturday was nicer than any recent dates I've had."

Sam's expression grew serious. "Okay, I understand now. First, they're both fabulous. Gwendolyn is a little career focused. She's amazing, and I know you'll have a nice time with her. I don't know if you'll react to her though."

I nodded.

"But you might. I just don't know. She's exceedingly good in bed." She paused. "Well, according to Bonnie. Bonnie gave her an eleven."

"I thought Bonnie's scale only went to ten."

"It does." Sam snickered. "Moira though. We told you, she's exceedingly sweet, and she has a reputation for knowing how to touch you. She's an exceptional woman, and if you're wondering if all lesbian dates are like yours tonight, I can tell you absolutely they aren't. Your date with Moira was exceptional by any standards. Partly that's because you two fit so well." She paused. "I swear, I didn't tell her you liked to cook."

I laughed. "It would have been okay if you had," I replied. I reached over and hugged her. "I'm sorry I got so mad at you."

"Don't be," she said. "I deserved it. We're all better?"

I nodded. "But don't tell Bonnie. I want her to suffer for a while. And absolutely do not tell her about my date!"

"If she asks, I'll tell her you said you had a nice time."

"She's going to ask if I kissed her."

Sam said, "Yep. Moira got a sweet but chaste kiss. I'll prepare Suzanne with the official story but will need to tell her enough to explain why I had to come over at midnight on a work night."

"I'm sorry about that."

"Are you kidding? Don't be. I'm so happy for you."

I thought about everything she said. "So you don't think I'm just discovering I'm a lesbian?"

"I think you should look up the word pansexual." She smiled. "I think you're responding to Moira, who happens to be a woman, not a woman who happens to be Moira." She paused. "You set yourself up for this by accepting more than light flirting. If you hadn't let her touch you, you would still have had a nice time, but you wouldn't have asked me to come over."

I thought about it. "I'm glad I did." I smiled at her. "Thank you."

"You are welcome. Does this mean you'll do it again next year?"

I laughed. "Moira asked that, too. Let me get through this year first."

She smiled. "When is your next date?"

"Gwendolyn on Friday for dinner and dancing. Moira all day Saturday. She said to expect an adventure and asked how adventurous I was. She asked how I felt about jumping out of airplanes."

"Jumping out of them?"

I nodded. "She said that wasn't what she had in mind, but she was using it as a measure of my sense of adventure."

"What did you tell her?"

"That I've always been curious and wasn't afraid of flying."

Sam smiled.

"You know something. Spill!" I demanded.

"Nope. Not mine to tell."

I did a fake pout, which just caused Sam to laugh and sneak a look at the truffles. "Seriously! You're asking me to bribe you?"

"Oh. No. Sorry. I'm not going to tell you. It wouldn't be fair to Moira."

I thought about it. "You're right. But now I'm going to wonder all the more."

Sam paused. "You can trust her."

"I figured that out." I paused. "If I send truffles home with you, will you share fairly with Suzanne?"

"Hell no!" she said. "Mine, all mine." I gave her The Look, and she said in a small voice, "May I take one to her?" I nodded.

Sam got off the sofa and headed to the kitchen for a baggie. She very carefully selected two truffles, grinning at me. "How much of this may I tell Suzanne?"

"If she swears to secrecy, whatever you want."

Sam reached out for my hand and pulled me to my feet. She wrapped me in a huge hug before heading for the door. "Thank you for calling me over," she said. "I was dying to know how it went. I was so afraid it would go badly."

"Clearly it didn't."

Dancing

At work the next day, I received flowers. It was a spring bouquet with a variety of flowers including two beautiful red roses as the centerpieces. The card said, "Dearest Pamela. Thank you so much. The roses are for the kisses. The rest of the flowers are for the touches. I had the best date I've had in a very long time. Moira."

I waited for a break and called her. "Hello, Pamela," she said when she answered.

"They're beautiful. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm glad you had a nice time."

"I did. Is this a bad time?"

"No. Should I be sitting down?"

I laughed. "I just wanted to hear your voice for a few minutes, if that's not too forward. I have an appointment coming in shortly, so I won't keep you too long."

We talked for several minutes. She promised to call Thursday evening with directions for Saturday. My appointment arrived, and I had to hang up.

* * *

Gwendolyn called Wednesday evening. I hadn't programmed her number into my phone yet. I was curled up on the sofa watching a movie, wrapped in a blanket. I paused the movie and answered. "Hello?"

"It's Gwendolyn Robbins," she said.

"Gwendolyn," I said, smiling. "Hi."

"Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"No," I said. "Just watching a movie. How was your day?"

"Surgery," she said. "I had a femoral popliteal bypass followed by an angioplasty. Then I had rounds and several consultations."

I paused.

"Sorry," she said quietly.

"Don't be. What are those?"

Her tone changed, becoming more formal. "The popliteal artery is in your leg. It starts shortly above your knee and branches into two more arteries below your knee. A bypass is needed when atherosclerosis builds sufficiently to critically reduce blood flow in the legs."

"Um. Okay," I said.

"You don't really care about this," she said.

"I do, but you deal with this all day. You don't need to explain it."

She paused, not responding.

"Gwendolyn, I was offering you an out if you didn't want to explain, but I'd love to understand."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

She took a breath. "All right. Atherosclerosis is a buildup of hard, fatty material in the arteries. It reduces the blood flow capacity and can lead to complete blockage."

"Like a clogged pipe."

"Exactly like a clogged pipe," she said. "A bypass involves replacing the blocked artery with a replacement. Sometimes we take donor tissue from elsewhere in the body, but the procedure today used an artificial graft."

"Is it difficult?"

"It can be, but I do these a lot, so they are routine."

"It sounds amazing. What was the other one?"

"Angioplasty. It's for treating a similar problem and is far less invasive. We make a narrow incision and insert a tube into the artery, commonly the femoral artery. We can then guide the tube to other locations in the body. It's pretty fascinating. There is a small balloon at the end of the tube, and we can blow the balloon up with water pressure. It expands and crushes the blockage."

I paused then said, "I think I start to understand why you can feel like God."

She laughed nervously. "I try to fight that, but it can be hard. I have my hands inside someone's body, replacing body parts. I feel their blood flowing through the arteries under my fingers." She paused. "Tell the truth. Did you really want to know all that?"

"Yes. It's fascinating."

"In small doses?"

I laughed. "Perhaps. I can only absorb so much in one sitting."

"How was your day?"

"I had a wonderful day, thank you," I said. "I am so looking forward to seeing you Friday. You aren't calling to postpone, are you?"

"No," she said. "Calling to confirm."

"Good. I want to thank you for being so kind on Saturday."

"Were you expecting to be thrown to the lions?"

"Pretty much," I said, laughing. "I was expecting someone like Bonnie."

She didn't say anything at that.

"Bonnie is a friend," I said. "And I love her to pieces. But she's pushy. I can't tell if she's teasing, but there are days I have to fend her off."

Gwendolyn still didn't say anything. I sighed. "I'm screwing this explanation up."

"I can be pretty pushy. Focused might be another word."

"How many times would I have to say 'no' before you would back off?"

"Once. Maybe twice, if I wasn't sure you were serious."

"Bonnie thinks 'no' means 'try harder'."

Gwendolyn laughed. "With a lot of women it does. Is she just teasing you?"

"I really don't know, and I can't get a straight answer from her about it. There have been a few times I let her do more than usual, just to see if she was bluffing. I have no evidence to suggest she's been bluffing."

"Oh, I think I want to know what the usual might be."

I grimaced. "The usual is nothing. More than the usual is not swatting her hand when she tries to caress my ass."

"And has she kissed you?"

"Not in the romantic sense, but I've had to fend off a few of those. I'm not sure why I put up with it, but she's an amazing workout partner for me. We like the same exercises and have similar stamina. And when she's not trying to get me out of my clothes, she's a fun guest at our parties. If I've had a bad day, she's really good at breaking me out of it, and if I'm in a sufficiently poor mood, she stops all her shit and is just a really good friend."

"You know she and I-"

"La la la la la," I said into the phone.

Gwendolyn laughed.

"Sam told me Bonnie said you're an eleven," I said. "And her scale only goes to ten."

"Really?" she said, her voice purring.

"Like Ms. Surgeon needed another reason for a power trip," I added.

"Well, I do have a delicate touch." She paused. "I always thought women found me too, well, surgical in my love making."

"I haven't conducted a strenuous poll," I said, laughing. "But that's not the reputation I've heard of so far."

"Oh? And were you conducting a non-strenuous poll about my love making?"

"Sorry, no. I was offered reassurances I could trust you."

"You could have lied," she said. I could hear her smiling.

"Lying is no basis for a relationship," I told her. "You'll get the honest truth from me."

"Me, too. Surgeons tend to have lousy bedside manner. It carries through to the rest of my life."

We talked for a few more minutes before the pauses started to intrude. I heard Gwendolyn sigh. "I'm not good at this part."

"May I ask a personal question?"

"Haven't you been already?"

"Do you really want to investigate more interests?"

"Yes." She paused. "I've accomplished the major professional goals I've had. Right now I'd be happy to continuing doing the things I'm doing until I retire. I love surgery and absolutely do not want a position that takes me away from it. But that leaves me with undirected focus." She paused again. "I tend to get obsessive though."

"So if I introduced you to, say, SCUBA diving, you'd go out the next day and buy a submarine?"

She laughed. "Maybe not that bad. But yes. If I liked it, I'd immediately buy everything I needed, take all the classes, and I can be very competitive about it." She paused. "Do you dive?"

"No, but I've always been interested." I paused. "It's an expensive hobby."

"Of course. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I'm frustrated professionally, but I'm happy with my personal life. I have a nice home and good friends. I'd like children someday, and I don't want to be a single parent, but I have time."

"Did you finish forgiving Sam?"

"Yes, I did." I didn't elaborate.

"That sounded like a mysterious silence."

"She came over late last night. I fed her chocolate truffles and we talked. I sent her back home with more truffles for Suzanne, although I'm not at all sure Suzanne got any."

"I'm glad," Gwendolyn said.  "You bought truffles as a peace offering?"

"No," I said. "If anyone was buying chocolates for a peace offering, it needed to be her. I took a cooking class last night and made them there."

"You made truffles."

"Yes. It was fun."

"Will I get one?"

"Not from this batch. But maybe in the future." I paused. "I'll make you other treats though."

We talked for a few more minutes before we signed off. It had been a nice talk, and I was looking forward to seeing her on Friday.

* * *

Thursday after work was a workout day with Bonnie. When I showed up, I could tell she wasn't sure whether I was going to, but she smiled and seemed pleased to see me. We changed clothes in the changing room where she made a point of inspecting my neck before sighing dramatically.

I laughed. "Sorry to disappoint. No love bites."

"Does she have any?" Bonnie asked hopefully.

"No."

"Did you even kiss her?"

"Yes."

"How was it?"

"It was all right," I said. I tried to pretend I was bored.

Bonnie studied my face. "You're not telling me something."

"I know." I looked away and said quietly, "She tried to. You know. Touch me."

"Oh no!" she said. "I'm sorry. Oh Pamela, I'm sorry."

"I let her."

"What? No way!" Then she narrowed her eyes. "Where did she touch you?"

"At the restaurant, then at the cooking class, then a little more when she got me home."

She glared at me. "That's not what I meant," she said. "What part of your body did you let her touch?"

I laughed. "My arms."

"You bitch," she said. "You had me going."

"And other places."

"I'm not buying it now," she said. "What? Your shoulders?"

We moved out into the exercise room and sat down on the mats, stretching out together, practicing various yoga poses. It was busy, but the club was big with plenty of room for everyone there.

"I had a nice time," I said. "I might see her again."

Bonnie laughed. "Twice more, I am guessing."

We finished stretching then got up and headed to the exercise bikes. "Or did you want stairs today?" Bonnie asked.

"Bikes are good." We found two bikes side by side and started peddling. "Bonnie, do you know where she's taking me Saturday?"

"No. She won't tell you?"

I explained the conversation. She narrowed her eyes at me. "You're pumping me for information as if you think I'm a leaky sieve. A gossip. A blabbermouth."

"Guilty."

"What did Sam tell you when you asked her?"

"How do you know I asked Sam?"

"Because she already knew you had kissed Moira good night, so you must have talked to her." She paused. "What did Sam tell you?"

I sighed. "She wouldn't say a word. But I know you want to."

"Sorry," she said. "I don't have the vaguest idea where she's taking you."

I changed the subject, but then we were both peddling hard enough it became more difficult to carry on a conversation. We're both serious about our exercise, and I had a lot of truffles to finish exercising off.

We spent forty minutes on the bikes. Some days we spend longer, but it was a weights day. When Bonnie saw the weights I was using, she asked me, "Why so little? Muscles stiff from fending off Moira's advances?"

I laughed. "No. Gwendolyn is taking me dancing tomorrow, and I don't want to be too sore to dance properly."

"You're going to get fat at those weights," she said, nodding at the stack I was lifting. She paused. "Moira won't like you if you get fat."

"Nice try," I said.

I waited until Bonnie was lifting her stack of weights after my turn before I asked, "Is Gwendolyn really an eleven?"

She almost dropped the bar. It wouldn't have done any real damage, but it would have made a heck of a noise. She finished the rep, glaring at me and my timing. "Don't do that," she said. "But yes, she is. Thinking of finding out for yourself?"

"Maybe." That time she did drop the stack, garnering some attention.

Bonnie glared at me again. "You are so full of shit."

"What? I heard you were only an eight. But an eleven. I could turn gay for an eleven."

"It would be an improvement over the fives you date."

"More like twos," I said quietly.

She finished her set without any further response then said, "Seriously? Twos?"

I nodded.

"You are dating the wrong guys."

"Prowess in bed isn't my sole criteria," I told her.

"Hey!" she complained. "That's not fair and you know it."

"I'm teasing, Bonnie."

She eyed me before nodding. "Are you teasing about the twos?"

"No, I'm serious about that."

"I don't care what other criteria you have," she said. "You shouldn't settle that far. A healthy sex life is important. Ask any psychologist."

"I know," I said.

We switched places and I changed the weights again. Bonnie tsked at me but didn't comment. While I was lifting, she eyed me up and down. At the end of my rep, I asked her, "Please, no flirting tonight. Just friends, okay?"

"I wasn't going to, actually," she said. "I was going to say, you have a great body, you dress well, you're articulate, an amazing cook, and very kind. I don't know why you're still single. You should have guys breaking down your door with proposals."

"Like you do?"

"Guys hit on me all the time," she said.

"I know. But I don't like the guys that hit on you," I told her. "You can have them."

"Yeah, I know," she said. "But I get it at work sometimes, too. Nice guys you'd like. Don't you get that?"

"The bank has a strict no-fraternization policy," I told her. "Both with coworkers and clients. My coworkers all know that. The clients don't, and I get an offer now and then, but I have to turn them down."

I finished my set and we switched again.

"So anyway," I told her. "I've been thinking I should let you have your way with me. I figured you'd give me at least a six."

She dropped the stack again.

"Damn it," she said. "You're doing that on purpose."

I laughed and nodded.

"You told me not to flirt, Pamela."

"You're right. I'm sorry."

She nodded and began lifting. "First time would only be a four. Once I got you to relax, it would go up. It might take a lot of practice to get you to a nine." She was speaking a few words at a time, cheating on the reps with a little break so she could talk. "I'd never get you to a ten. You're too uptight."

"Should I be offended?"

"No. It's who you are, and it's part of why I love teasing you."

She finished her set and stood up. We wiped down the machine before turning to the next one. She went first the time, but first she asked, "Are we forgiven?"

"Yes." I paused. "I had better than an okay time, Bonnie."

"Yes!" She said, pumping her fist. "I was sure you'd like Moira. I've been trying to get a date with her for three years. I'm deeply jealous." She sat down at the machine, set the weights, and began lifting. "Are you going to give me details?"

"No." I paused. "Except." I thought about it. "Bonnie. Best. Date. Ever."

She dropped the stack, but she didn't glare.

"Seriously?"

I nodded.

"You're not just shitting me?"

"No."

"Huh. Sorry you've been turning me down all these years?"

I laughed. "You would love me and leave me, Bonnie. We both know that." I paused. "But you would be back for more from time to time."

I watched her think about it. "Yeah, you're probably right. And after one taste of Bonnie, you'd be ruined for men at least." She smiled, did another rep, then said. "But probably not Gwendolyn. No one can ruin you for what that woman can do with her fingers."

"Surgeon's touch," I said.

"Exactly. I have no idea what she's doing different, but if you could bottle what she has. Wow."

She finished her set then looked at me. "You've never talked to me about this before. You always shut me down."

We switched places and I ignored her half-asked question. Instead I changed the topic, and anytime she tried to switch it back, I ignored her and changed the topic again.

Finally as we were getting ready to leave, she said, "Come on, Pamela. Spill."

"I was always afraid I was encouraging you."

"Would that be so bad?"

"Love me and leave me would be hard on our friendship."

"So you're curious!"

"No."

"Liar."

"Am not."

"Are too!"

"Am not!" I stamped my foot, and we both giggled.

"Seriously. Curious?"

"Just trying to understand why I had such a great date with Moira and not so much with the guys."

"It's the guys you go out with. There are reasons we try to chase them away."

"You do not!" I said.

"We do. Honest, not kidding. They're assholes. Have you seen the way they look at your best friend?"

We had stepped outside and I turned to her, pulling on her arm. "Bonnie?"

"I'm not teasing, Pamela. Dead serious."

"All of them?"

She thought about it. "You've had a few that have been okay, but those were the dead boring ones. You seem to find homophobes, Pamela."

"Please tell me you're kidding, Bonnie."

"I'm sorry, Pamela. Some haven't been two bad. Some are just uncomfortable around us. A few haven't said anything, but they laugh too hard at our jokes or go out of the way to tell us how they don't mind we're gay, but they do so in a very possessive fashion as if they're worried we'll try to steal you from them."

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "Am I that oblivious?"

"Sometimes. We're probably watching for it more. You love us so much that it doesn't occur to you someone else might not." She paused. "It's okay, Pamela."

"In the future, tell me. Please."

"You sure?"

I nodded. "You have to do it when you aren't teasing me though."

"If I'm just teasing about him, then I'll be teasing about other things. I'll let you know when I'm serious."

I nodded. "I'm busy all weekend. I can't work out again until Monday."

"Dates?"

"Yep."

She smiled. "Have fun. Don't do anything I might do."

We hugged briefly before walking to our respective cars.

* * *

Moira called me later in the evening on Thursday. "Hello, Moira."

"Is it too late to call?"

"No. I was hoping to hear from you. Have I told you how much I enjoyed Tuesday?"

She laughed. "Yes. I did too. The weather on Saturday looks outstanding. I will pick you up at seven. Is that okay?"

"Yes."

"Dress casual to be outside but pack a bag for dinner and a little dancing. We won't be coming home to change. You won't get home until late."

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere."

I sighed. "I couldn't get Sam or Bonnie to say a word."

"Good." She paused. "I'm not happy you tried."

"I'm sorry," I said in a small voice. "I won't do it again."

"You are forgiven if you are serious about your promise."

"I promise."

"If you want to know something about me, ask me."

"All right." I paused. "I'm sorry."

"Forgiven." She paused. "Will you tell me about your day?"

So I did. She shared details about hers and asked if I had any truffles left.

"Two."

"You ate them all?"

"I gave two to Sam and sent her home with two more for Suzanne. Was that okay?"

"Yes. I gave some to a client and shared one with someone at work. But no making any more and please don't give any to Gwendolyn or any of your boyfriends, until I've had my last date with you."

"No boyfriends, Moira," I said. "And I won't share with Gwendolyn. This is ours."

I heard her smile. "Thank you." She paused. "I will be a little stand offish Saturday morning. Don't take it personally. You'll get more of the attention you like once we get where we're going, if you want it."

"I want it," I told her. "You're being very mysterious."

"You'll understand by nine," she said. "I just didn't want you feeling neglected."

"I'll contain my disappointment if you promise it will be short-lived."

"I promise," she said. I could tell she was grinning. "Will Gwendolyn have kissed you by then?"

"I am seeing her tomorrow night."

"Good. Otherwise I was going to postpone."

"No need."

We flirted for a while longer on the phone before hanging up. I went to bed thinking about her.

* * *

Friday I got home early again. I primped for Gwendolyn. I wrote a black dress with a long, flowing hemline. I liked the way it moved when I danced. I finished getting ready then hovered nervously in the living room waiting for her.

She arrived a few minutes late. I let her ring the bell before walking to the door, lest she know I was watching for her.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she said, stepping inside.

"Only a few minutes."

"Medical emergency," she said. "We were lucky I didn't have to cancel." She paused, looking at me, and smiled. "You look nice."

"Thank you. So do you." She was wearing black slacks and a white blouse, and she looked nice. We hugged, then I took her hand. "Want a tour? It's small."

"It's cute," she said, looking around. "My house is big, but sterile. Yours is a home."

I led her through the house. When I got to the kitchen I told her, "This is my favorite room."

The house was small, but the kitchen was fabulous, and I was proud of it. "Do you cook a lot?" she asked.

"When I have someone to cook for. I invite the girls over a lot, especially when I want to test something new on them."

She smiled. "What do they say about it?"

"They get mad because they need double workouts after eating my food."

She laughed. "I'll consider myself warned."

I showed her the rest of the house. When we got back to the front door, she said, "You have a nice home, Pamela. Thank you for showing it to me."

"Thank you," I replied. "You are amazingly gracious."

She frowned. "This is a home. It shows your character. I think perhaps my house also shows my character, but if it does, it makes me sad."

"Fix it."

"I wouldn't know how. I hired an interior designer, who pulled her hair out trying to figure out what to do. She put a bunch of plants in, but they died due to lack of attention. It looked better with the plants."

I smiled. "You can hire companies to take care of them."

"I thought about that after they were all dead," she said, laughing at herself. "I've thought about replacing them, but I think the design needs more than just plants." She paused. "If we become real friends-"

"I'd love to help," I said. "But not until I know your personality better." I paused and handed her my pashmina, then turned around for her to drape over my shoulders. She brushed her fingers across my skin, lighting me on fire. I looked over my shoulder and smiled at her.

"Too much?"

"Absolutely not," I told her. "You're taking me dancing, Gwendolyn. Slow dancing."

"Seriously?"

"Well, not all the songs."

We stepped outside and I locked the door, then I took her arm as she led the way to her car. She didn't open my door for me, and I realized this would be a different date from Tuesday's.

I climbed in and buckled up. She did the same then looked over at me. "Oh hell."

"What?"

"I am still in work mode, sort of."

"All right," I said. "Why does that make you swear?"

"Did that bother you?"

"No. Puzzled me. Did I do something wrong?"

"No. Neither did I, exactly. But I missed an opportunity to do something right."

I reached over and brushed the back of her hand. "It's okay. Please be yourself."

"You mean feed you a hurried meal and lure you back to my home for a night of sex?"

I laughed. "If you treat me like you did on Saturday, I will be ecstatic."

She started the car and backed out of my driveway.

"Where is dinner?" I asked her.

"Do you like sushi?"

"Yes." I smiled.

"It's a drive, but there's a great sushi place on Grand Avenue in St. Paul. We have reservations."

"Wonderful."

As I had with Moira, I set my arm where Gwendolyn could readily touch me if she wanted to. She noticed right away and smiled. She wrapped my hand in hers and drove one handed most of the way to the restaurant. I asked her about work.

"Two bypasses this morning, and I was only assisting on the first one. Consultations this afternoon. How about you?"

"I assisted with two closings today and wrote loans for three others." I paused. "Neither of us are good about talking about our jobs."

She laughed. "I'm sorry."

"Tell me about your first sushi experience."

She thought about it for a minute. "It was in college. I was seeing this woman from Japan. It was casual. Steamy but casual. She took me."

"What was her name?"

"Kazuko," she said. "She was lovely."

"Do you remember what you had?"

Gwendolyn looked over at me. "The first time we went, she kept it simple. Nigiri and spicy tuna rolls, I believe. We went a few times, and she introduced some of the more exotic items."

"Do you like those?"

She shrugged. "I won't order any tonight, but you certainly may if you like. My favorites are pretty tame. I like the salmon and tuna nigiri, spicy tuna rolls and California rolls."

"Those are my favorites, too," I said. "Especially the tuna."

She smiled. "Something in common."

I reached over with my right hand and caressed the skin on her arm. She glanced over at me and smiled.

"You've been out with Moira."

"How can you tell?"

She glanced down at my fingers. "That."

"Have you and Moira dated?"

"No. We would be horrible together. We're both dominant. We would fight horribly." She smiled in understanding. "Now I know why I don't get any truffles."

"I'm sorry," I told her.

"No. This wasn't your idea. You didn't even want to be there."

"You are both being amazing so far," I said. "No freaking the straight girl."

She laughed. "All part of our fiendish plan to both earn a toaster oven."

I laughed. "Doesn't it go to whichever of you beds me first?"

"Maybe it'll be a threesome."

"We'd need to make it four and invite Bonnie."

"Oh, now that would change the dynamic," Gwendolyn said. "Bonnie is a handful."

"Are you talking about her chest or her ass?"

Gwendolyn smiled. "No comment."

"Have you checked out my ass?" I asked her.

"Yes."

"Really? When?"

"When you were on stage. I wouldn't mind a closer look."

"Did it pass inspection, Doctor?"

"Cursory inspection only," she said. "If you want a proper medical opinion, you'll need to take off the dress."

I smiled. "I guess I'll have to live with the cursory inspection."

She looked over. "We're just flirting."

"I know. I'm having fun."

"Good."

We pulled off the freeway and began working our way through the surface streets. Grand Avenue was busy, but it's always busy. But it was early, and the parking lot wasn't too full. Gwendolyn parked, and we climbed out. At the back of the car, I took her arm. She reached over with her right hand to cover my hands on her arm, but had to release me to open the doors. We stepped inside and were promptly led to a table.

The restaurant was cozy. Not too small, but not huge, with a simple Japanese decor. There was a sushi bar along one side and too hibachi tables in the opposite corner, but we sat at a table near the middle, sitting across the table from each other.

"Will you let me order?" she asked.

"Will you be ordering my favorites?"

"And a few other things. You are not obligated to eat anything that doesn't suit you."

The waitress came by, and Gwendolyn ordered for us in Japanese. She surprised the waitress, but I heard "hai, hai, hai" from the waitress, so Gwendolyn's Japanese must have been understandable.

"Where did you meet Kazuko?"

"In Tokyo."

"You went to college in Japan?"

"One semester junior year," she said. "My Japanese is rusty, but I retain enough to order our meal."

"Did you do that to impress me?"

"Maybe a little, but I never get to practice it, so when I can, it becomes one of my simple joys."

The waitress came back with tea and hot towels for our hands.

I asked Gwendolyn about Japan. "I'd like to go back some time," she said eventually.

"I'd like to go sometime, too. I would love spending a few days at the Nihan Ki-in."

Gwendolyn raised an eyebrow. "You play go?"

"A boyfriend taught me in college." I paused. "The same boyfriend who taught me about the joy of sushi."

"Have you played since?"

"A little." I smiled. "Kazuko taught you go?"

"No," she said. "Another girl. Once she taught me, we would place wagers on the games." Gwendolyn smiled. "I would very much enjoy placing similar wagers with you."

"I bet I can guess the nature of the wagers." I paused. "I'll play you for a foot massage."

"Deal."

Our conversation took another awkward silence. I look at her for a minute then set my hand on the table, palm up. She looked down at it, then reach over and began caressing my fingers. We sat quietly like that for several minutes, Gwendolyn gently caressing my hand, until the food began to arrive. She squeezed my hand for a moment and pulled away.

Dinner was lovely. She had ordered my favorites, her favorites, and a few things I hadn't had before. Everything was good, except the eel. I refused to touch it.

"So not adventurous?" she asked.

"I've had it before. I don't like eating rubber. I don't eat calamari, either."

We finished our meal, then sat quietly and finished our tea. We'd run out conversation again, but when I offered my hand, Gwendolyn accepted the offer to touch me.

I liked her touch and was hungry for more. I wanted to know if she could affect me the way Moira had. I was having a very nice time, but I wasn't feeling swept away like I had with Moira. Dancing could change that.

Finally Gwendolyn paid the bill, and we got up. She led me out the door after settling my pashmina for me. She caressed my neck and shoulders in the process, and I wanted to lean against her.

"You're not acting like a straight girl," she said once we stepped outside.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Don't be," she replied. "Are you trying to seduce me?"

"No. I am trying to have a nice time though. And offering what I can to help you have a nice time, too. I don't know what you like, so I don't know what to offer."

This time she led me to my door and opened it for me. I caressed her cheek before settling in. She closed the door and climbed in on her side.

Before starting the car she turned to me. "You are inviting a lot more touch than I thought I could expect."

"You're not a toucher? Am I driving you crazy?"

"You're driving me crazy all right," she said, looking me up and down.

"Go slow, but you haven't hit my limits yet," I told her. I paused. "Naked isn't in the cards, so if that's your goal, you'll be disappointed."

"I can be very good," she said. "No one has ever complained."

"Gwendolyn, you didn't pay what you did because you wanted someone who would fall into bed on command. You knew I was straight, and you paid an outrageous amount of money anyway. I believe you would be deeply disappointed if I let you take me to bed."

"Is that the only reason you're saying no?"

"Of course not. But if that's what you really wanted, you should have bid on Bonnie."

She didn't say anything right away. "I have well-developed habits. They aren't necessarily the habits I want to have. Will you forgive me?"

"Of course," I said. "I am just deeply afraid of disappointing you. I can fend off your advances." I paused. "But is that how you want to spend the time together?"

"No, it's not. If I don't knock it off, will you please yell at me?"

"No. I'll just dance with someone else for a while."

She laughed. "Would you really?"

"Absolutely." I paused. "If it turns egregious, I'll get mad, and you won't get a goodnight kiss."

"Oh dear," she said. "I really am sorry."

"Take me dancing, Gwendolyn. You can flirt my ass off all you want, as long as you stop trying to flirt my dress off."

She laughed. "Deal."

She started the car and pulled out of the lot.

"Where are we going to go dancing?" I asked.

"Would a lesbian nightclub bother you?"

"Will I get mauled?"

"Of course not. Unless you want to be."

"I don't. Touching good. Mauling bad."

"It's a safe place."

It took us twenty minutes to reach the bar in Edina. We parked in one of the few remaining places. "Will they have a table?"

"I reserved one," she said. We climbed out, and I took her arm. She led the way to a set of downward steps at the side of the building. We reached the bottom and stepped into a very retro-looking foyer.

"Did you want to check the pashmina?"

"Yes."

Gwendolyn took it from me and gave it to the attendant then took my hand and led me through the double doors into the main room of the nightclub. I looked around. The hostess was dressed like a 1920s flapper, and I saw a waitress dressed in a similar fashion.

"It's an old speakeasy!"

Gwendolyn nodded then turned to the hostess. "Hello, Carol."

"Hello, Gwendolyn," the hostess said. "I have a table along the side, just like you asked." The woman led us to a booth along the wall opposite of the bar. If we had traveled further into the nightclub, we would have arrived at the dance floor.

I looked around. I didn't see any men, but I saw a lot of women. I turned to Gwendolyn. "This is the Underground Lipstick."

She nodded. "You've heard of it?"

"Sam and Suzanne were talking about it a while ago. They'll be amused to know we had come here."

The waitress came by. We ordered diet sodas. "Are you going to have dinner?" she asked.

"No," Gwendolyn said. "But we'll eat something later."

She nodded and disappeared.

We could ear the music clearly from our table, but it wasn't so loud I couldn't talk to Gwendolyn. She had sat across from me, which disappointed me a little, but I decided to play it cool. I looked at the dance floor.

She smiled. "You're anxious to dance."

I nodded.

"Well then, shall we?"

She walked me to the dance floor. We arrived just as the song ended. The next song came on, and I moved into Gwendolyn's arms. She was surprised and didn't know how to dance, so I led, changing grips and pulling her against me. The song was a little bluesy, so I gave her a bluesy style with my right leg between hers, hers between mine, and our pelvises pressed together. Her eyes widened.

"This is a little forward," she said.

I ignored her protests but began moving her side to side in time to the music, using my leg to lead her body movements. She was stiff at first, but once she loosened up, we began to have a nice time.

I looked around a little while we were dancing. There were four other couples dancing, two of them in a fashion similar to us. But mostly I watched Gwendolyn.

She tried to back lead, but I didn't let her. If she wanted to lead, she was going to have to learn to dance properly. The song ended, and she looked a little miffed. I pulled her ear down to my mouth.

"I know you aren't used to letting someone else lead. But I'm a better dancer than you are. Can you enjoy this? If not, we can freestyle."

"Where did the straight girl learn to lead such a passionate style?"

A new song came up. It was a slow song. I adjusted my stance, wrapping my arms around her neck and laying my head against her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around my waist, and we swayed slowly to the music.

The previous dances had been a little stressful for me, but this was nice, and my heart began to pound while being held in Gwendolyn's arms. I could breathe in her scent and feel her strong arms wrapped around me. She was a perfect height for me, and being held by her felt good.

I sighed against her neck.

"Is this okay?" she asked into my ear.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry I'm not very good."

"Stop it," I told her. "All that matters is you try to have a nice time. Do you like holding me?"

"Yes."

"I like being held by you. That's all that matters. Focus on that."

I felt her relax, and things felt better right away.

The song ended too soon and was followed by something very fast. Gwendolyn tried to pull away right away, but I held her for a moment, then when I did release her, I looked up into her eyes. I liked our height difference and her strength. She was strong and soft at the same time, a new experience for me.

Then I slipped to her side and cuddled against her arm, leaning my head on her shoulder again. We moved back to our booth, retreating from the loud music, and when she slid into her seat, I slid in next to her, maintaining our contact. I clutched her arm with both of my hands and kept my head on her shoulder.

"Is this what you envisioned?" I asked her.

"No. I thought you would be standoffish."

"Do you want me to be?"

"No." She laughed a little. "But I had a game plan for trying to get you to relax, and I didn't make one for this."

I looked up at her, and she looked down into my eyes. "In your past relationships, who usually leads?"

"I do."

I smiled. "So the surgeon doesn't know what to do when she doesn't have a plan prepared?"

"No. Everything I do is planned."

"Well, if you want to lead, you better make a plan quick or I'm leading all night."

She offered a half smile.

"While you're thinking about it, tell me a story."

"A story? Once upon a time?"

"Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Gwendolyn," I said. "She was a very precocious child, tall for her age and a little bit of a tomboy, but sweet and gentle at the same time." I paused. "I don't know the rest."

"I don't have many happy stories from growing up," she said quietly.

"How about an important story?"

"All right," she agreed. "Gwendolyn's early childhood, which she barely remembers, was happy. Her father was a busy man, big a strong, but he had hoped for a boy, and he had little time for his young daughter. Gwendolyn's mother did what she could to make up for this, and Gwendolyn knew she was loved by her mother, and even her father in his own way."

She took a sip from her soda.

"Christmas Eve, when the little girl was seven years old, that all changed. Gwendolyn, her mommy and her daddy were taking a chariot ride home from Grandmama's house when another chariot driver, driven by someone who had consumed seven too many eggnogs, crashed into Gwendolyn's father's chariot." She paused. My heart sinking, I looked up at her. She was staring into space. I thought about stopping her, but she wouldn't have picked this story if she hadn't wanted to tell me. I clutched her more firmly.

After several moments, Gwendolyn continued the story. "Gwendolyn herself was riding in the back seat and was amazingly lucky, suffering bruises from the seat belt but no other damage. Gwendolyn's parents were not so lucky. Mommy was killed immediately. Daddy was hurt badly." She paused.

"Gwendolyn began immediately screaming for her mommy, but Mommy wasn't answering. Neither was Daddy. She was old enough, and very precocious, that she understand this was very, very bad. Gwendolyn's door was jammed shut from the accident, and the window was smashed, so after trying the door several times, she climbed out through the window. Both front doors had flown open in the accident, and Gwendolyn flew to her mommy's side right away, but Mommy wasn't responsive to Gwendolyn's screams. When she look across to Daddy, he was making strange noises."

"Gwendolyn screamed, 'Daddy, Daddy', and ran around the car to his side. There was blood on his face, and he was making gurgling sounds trying to breath. Blood was pouring out of a wound in his arm. Gwendolyn knew that was bad, and she wrapped her hands tightly around the wound, trying to stop the blood, but it kept gushing out around her small hands."

By now there were tears crawling down my cheeks as I thought about this young girl facing first hand the death of both of her parents. I didn't bother hiding them, but clutched Gwendolyn more tightly. I felt her glance down and squeeze my hand.

"It took a long time for the policemen to come. Daddy had stopped making any noises before they came. A lady police officer pulled a screaming Gwendolyn away from her daddy, and Gwendolyn doesn't remember anything after that for a long time. All she remembers is thinking, if she were a doctor, she could have saved Daddy."

Gwendolyn's voice changed. "Of course, that wasn't remotely true. The injuries were far too severe, but seven-year-old Gwendolyn didn't understand that."

She paused, and her voice changed again, becoming bitter. "Gwendolyn's father's parents died before Gwendolyn was born, and her Mommy's parents were living in a nursing home. They couldn't take care of a little girl. Both Mommy and Daddy were only children, and so there was no one to take care of little Gwendolyn. And so, she spent her middle childhood years in The Foster System."

"As a foster child, Gwendolyn learned to avoid Foster Daddy, especially when he had been drinking. As she got older, she learned to avoid him entirely and grew to understand men were not nice creatures. Foster Mommy was better. She only hit Gwendolyn when Gwendolyn deserved it, such as telling lies about what Foster Daddy tried to do to her."

"Oh god," I said.

She patted my hand for a moment. "Gwendolyn was very good at avoiding Foster Daddy, though, and he was never able to do anything too bad. But when Gwendolyn turned sixteen, she applied for and was granted emancipation, declared a legal adult. The judge told her that he had never met a more adult sixteen year old in his entire years on the bench, although he was concerned about Gwendolyn's ability to keep a job while going to school. Upon hearing about Gwendolyn's desires to become a doctor, the judge called a friend of his and got Gwendolyn a job in a doctor's office, where she was paid far more than a sixteen-year-old should have been paid, even including a small room over the garage of the doctor's house."

"Doctor Travis was a kindly man, not that many years away from retirement, and his wife was equally kind. Their children had long ago moved away, and they missed having them around, so they doted on Gwendolyn, providing love and guidance as she became a young adult, earning full scholarships first to college and then medical school. It was Doctor Travis who suggested she become a vascular surgeon, and it was perhaps the best advice he ever gave Gwendolyn that she took. He also told her to take time to be happy, but she was never very good at following that advice."

Gwendolyn paused, and her voice changed once more. "And that is how Gwendolyn became the person she is, very focused, always having a plan, not always able to trust men, and perhaps emotionally reserved. But from Doctor and Mrs. Travis, she learned to be kind and gentle and to understand that not all men are like Foster Daddy. It's why Gwendolyn is very, very good at some things and very, very bad at everything else. It's why her house is sterile and her dates never last more than a weekend. But it is also why she is a good surgeon and a good lover."

She looked down at me, then reached with her finger and wiped the tears from my cheeks.

"I'm not sure why I told you that story," she said. "I've never told it to anyone ever before."

"I'm glad you did," I told her. "Thank you." I burrowed into her side just a little tighter, and she moved her arm around my shoulder, meaning I could burrow even deeper into her side.

We sat quietly like that for several minutes before Gwendolyn said, "I have a plan."

I looked up. "Going to share?"

"Yes. My plan is to ask you to lead."

I smiled at her. "All right." I thought for a moment. "Is my makeup smudged?"

"Yes, but that's all right."

"No, it's not. I am going to go fix my makeup. While I am gone, you are going to order something light for us to eat, whatever you want, but nothing heavy or deep fried. When I get back, you are going to flirt my ass off. We are going to dance to some of the songs, and you are going to feed me when we're not dancing." I paused. "I want to feel your sweet, gentle, surgeon's hands on my skin. I want to melt into your arms." I paused again. "Is that a good plan?"

"That's an excellent plan," she said. "Where may I touch you?"

"Any bare skin is fair game." I thought about it. "Except lips. You don't get to touch those until later. And no cheating!"

She laughed. "No cheating."

I slid out from under her arm, collecting my purse and looking for the bathrooms. Once I got there, I cleaned up then took a deep breath, staring at myself in the mirror. Her story had left me shocked, but it offered perspective that perhaps no one else knew. But I knew now why she'd bid on me, and what she wanted from me. She wanted more healing. A part of her was missing, and she wanted me to help her find it.

I realized something else. If I wasn't careful, I could fall in love with her. I wasn't at all sure I was ready to go down that path. And if I were going to fall in love with a woman, I wasn't sure whether it should be Gwendolyn or Moira.

With my appearance fixed, I took one more deep breath and headed back to our table. When I arrived, Gwendolyn was messing with her phone. I slipped into the booth and told her, "Unless it's a medical emergency, put it away and don't take it out again tonight."

"Just a minute," she said, still fiddling with her phone.

I reached over and took it away from her.

"Hey!" she said, reaching for it. I held it out of her reach.

"Is there a medical reason why you are paying attention to your phone instead of your date?"

"I'm checking on two of my patients."

"If there was a need for your attention, would the hospital call you?"

She looked away.

"That's what I thought. If there is a real, medical reason you need to check on them, you can have your phone back. Otherwise put it in your purse and leave it there. I'm serious, Gwendolyn."

She looked back at me. "You're bossy."

"I am telling you clearly how I want to be treated." I handed her the phone. "I guess it's up to you if you're going to listen to me."

She glanced at the phone and I clenched my teeth, but she simply pushed one button to make the screen go dark, then slipped it back in her purse.

"Thank you," I said quietly. "For the record, if there is ever a real need to check on your patients, of course you should do so. But if you hide behind your phone and become reserved from me, I will be deeply hurt."

"Is that what I was doing?" she asked.

"Yes. You just shared a very intimate story with me, and now you're afraid, so you're retreating. I won't have it." But I smiled when I said it, then I snuggled back under her arm, physically lifting it in place around my shoulders.

She was a little stiff at first, but then the hand draped over my shoulders moved to the back of my neck. She began playing with my hair and caressing the skin on my neck and ear. I looked up at her and smiled.

"I like that," I told her.

She smiled.

Over the next several minutes, she relaxed, and her touches grew slightly bolder.  I was sitting to her right, so it was her right hand caressing my neck. She reached over with her left and cheated a little. I was wearing nylons, so my legs weren't bare, but I didn't complain when she began tracing patterns with a finger on my leg. But when she tried nudging my hemline a little higher, I told her that was cheating, and if she did it again, there would be a penalty.

"What sort of penalty?" she asked. "Maybe I'm willing to pay it."

"I'll move to the other side of the table."

"Oh hell," she said. "You don't fool around."

"Not on the first date," I said.

She sputtered at that.

"Maybe on the second."

"Tease."

I'd been listening to the music. There had been a set of music I didn't care to listen to, but then a slow song came on. I'd been paying attention to the pattern. The DJ would play several songs of a particular style and tempo, then a slow song. The next set would be different from the previous one, and then another slow song.

"Time to dance," I told her. "You will lead."

I slipped out of the booth, pulling her after me, but then let her lead the way to the dance floor, holding hands. She found an open space for us, and I immediately moved into her arms.

She was warm and strong and soft, and I loved how she smelled. My head was on her shoulder with my face buried in her neck. She wasn't wearing any perfume, so the scent coming from her was a combination of her own unique scent, a subtle scent from the soap she used, and a slightly less subtle scent from her shampoo. The combination was soft and lovely.

My arms were wrapped around her, underneath her arms. Hers were wrapped around me. I felt one hand slide down to rest right at the top of my ass; if it had gone any further, I would have had to stop her, but she stopped at the lowest point I was willing to allow. The other hand lifted up to play with the skin at the back of my neck.

"You like living dangerously," I told her.

"Dangerous would have been three inches lower," she replied.

"More like a half inch, Gwendolyn." I kept my tone light.

She squeezed me a little. "I am very precise," she said.

I laughed into her neck.

We swayed to the music, one hand of hers playing with the back of my neck, the other resting, a half inch from danger. When the song ended, we clutched each other for a moment while listening to what would come next.

It was another bluesy piece.

"Do you remember how to dance to this?" I asked her.

"Yes, but I don't know how."

I shifted us into position then told her, "You're leading. Think about trying to seduce me, but you know if you go too far or too fast, I'll run away."

She grinned at me. "I can do that." And then something changed in her, and she gave me three amazing dances, raising my heart rate dramatically, and I wondered if she could feel that she'd made me damp between my legs. Then the set ended, and she pulled me into her arms for the slow song.

"I need to sit after that," I told her. "Wow."

"Nice?"

"Oh yes. I'm not going to tell you how nice."

She squeezed me more tightly for a moment. And when her hand slid down an inch lower than it had during the last slow song, I didn't stop her. She did it tentatively, perhaps to judge my reaction, then I felt her relax a little more.

Her fingers played with the top of my ass. It felt good. I didn't stop that, either.

The song ended, and I kissed her neck and said, "Feed me." She took my hand and led me from the dance floor. When we got to our booth, I saw an appetizer platter was there with a variety of foods, all of them light and nummy-looking. We sat down, and I immediately plastered myself to her side.

She was forced to serve us one handed, as her right was draped over my shoulders. She set a plate in front of each of us, but I took my plate and slid it to the side, well out of her reach.

"I thought you wanted me to feed you."

"I do. Is there some reason we need two plates?"

She slid her plate so it was centered between us on the table and piled a few things on it. Then she picked one up and ate it.

I was serious about her feeding me, but I wanted to see if she would figure it out. She finished the little appetizer. I wasn't sure what it was. Then she picked up a carrot and ate that.

"You're not eating," she observed.

"They taste better from your fingers," I replied.

"Oh. Ohhh." I looked up and caught her grinning at me. She picked up a grape and offered it to me. I opened my mouth and waited for her to slip it between my lips. Her fingers brushed my lips when she did it.

"Oh oh," she said. "You said your lips were off limits."

"Rules can temporarily change," I said. "What's that one?" I said, gesturing at the plate with my nose.

"That's a carrot."

"No, silly, the other one."

"Mushroom."

I sighed. "The other, other one."

"Cheese. Cheddar, I believe."

"The other, other, other one."

"Celery?"

"Last chance," I told her. "Or I'll feed myself."

She laughed. "This one?" She picked up something that looked like a miniature tart. I nodded. "Crab dip tarts, I believe they're called."

"Yes, please," I told her. The tart was too big to slide into my mouth whole, so when she offered it, I took a bite from it then watched when she took the second half.

I let her feed me a few more appetizers, then another slow song came on, and I immediately pulled her from the booth to dance. We danced the slow song, and then there was a set of swing music.

"Do you swing dance?" I asked her.

"Do I what?"

So I took over the lead and taught her the basic swing six-count step with a couple of turns. I don't like leading swing with someone significantly taller than I am, and she got her head bumped a couple of times when I couldn't reach high enough over her head, but we had a nice three songs, then stepped together for another slow song.

"That was fun," she said. "Except when you hit my head."

"I'm sorry," I said. "If we start dating, would you go to dance lessons with me? I would rather you could lead."

She didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry," I said. "That was a silly question."

"Was it a serious question?" she asked.

"I don't know. Maybe."

She squeezed me very tightly.

"I thought you were straight," she said.

"How would you feel about dating a straight girl? All the dating and none of the sex?"

She thought about it for a while. "Pamela," she said eventually. "I think I might like that. And in that case, dance lessons sound like fun."

"If you get all competitive with me, I won't go with you," I told her. "It's supposed to be fun."

"People dance competitively," she said.

"Yes, but I don't. Not remotely interested."

The song ended, and she led us back to our table.

That was how we spent the rest of the evening. She fed me more appetizers while we cuddled in the booth. We danced every slow song and some of the sets. And by the end of the evening, her hand was resting firmly on my ass during the slow dances. She didn't take any other liberties, however, and the attention felt nice.

Eventually it was time to go. Gwendolyn paid our bill, settled my pashmina in place, and led the way to her car. We stepped to my door, and she turned me to face her, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me close against her. I buried my head in her shoulder, but she used a hand to lift my chin towards her, and I knew she wanted to kiss me.

What was it with my dates asking for kisses in parking lots? I raised my fingers and set them against her lips before she could kiss me.

"I want to kiss you, too," I told her. "But not here. Please take me home, Gwendolyn."

She nodded, releasing me, then opening my door so I could climb into her car.

On the way home, she asked me about past boyfriends. I was telling her a story about a college boyfriend I'd dated briefly. I finished the story and realized I didn't have a clue where we were.

"Um. Where are we going?"

"You told me to take you home."

"Gwendolyn. A kiss. Not sex. My home, not yours."

"Oh hell," she said. "I'm sorry. I reverted to habits."

"It's okay," I told her. "But now I can't let you use tongue."

She laughed. "Like you were going to."

We continued to share stories. I asked her about medical school. She asked me about finance. I asked her about her favorite girlfriend.

"None of them measure up to you," she said.

"Oh that is such a line!"

She didn't say anything to that.

"Thank you," I told her after a minute of silence. "I like you, too."

She smiled.

Finally we pulled up in front of my house. I climbed out of the car and pulled my keys from my purse. Gwendolyn walked up the sidewalk with me, her arm around my waist. Once the door was open, I invited her inside and stepped away from her then turned to her.

"It's late, and I have to get up early, or I would offer tea and a little more conversation."

She nodded.

That's when I stepped up to her and let her wrap her arms around me.

"I have had an amazing time, Gwendolyn," I told her. "I am deeply touched you shared your story with me, and I think you're an amazing woman."

She smiled down at me. "You have been amazingly kind, and I can't imagine a better evening, either."

I pressed myself more firmly against her, lifting my face towards hers and slowly closing my eyes. She raised a hand to the back of my head, guiding my lips towards hers.

As soon as our lips touched, I felt my entire body respond to her. I clutched at her immediately and parted my lips to her. She kept her tongue to herself, so I flicked mine against her lips. When she parted, I slid my tongue into her mouth.

She tasted amazing, a combination of the things we'd had to eat and a flavor I couldn't quite identify that I decided was just her. She tasted like she smelled, and I liked it.

Our tongues danced together for a while before mine retreated, hers chasing me. I moaned into the kiss, letting her taste me, then slowly withdrew from the kiss.

When my eyelids fluttered open, she was studying my face. I slowly smiled up at her.

"You are full of surprises, straight girl."

I smiled wider, then closed my eyes and pulled her head down for another kiss. This one was hotter than the last one, and when my lips parted, she didn't wait for further invitation. Her tongue explored me thoroughly, and I felt myself sagging against her as she held me to her.

This kiss didn't last as long, as I broke it, then laid my head on her shoulder. "Wow."

She kissed the top of my head.

"When can I see you next?" she asked.

"Next Saturday," I told her. "All day, if you don't have to work. We're going for a long drive."

"You're going to make me talk."

"I surely am," I told her.

"What if I don't want to wait that long?"

I thought about it. "I won't be home tomorrow. You may call me on Sunday or any evening next week. You may also send me flowers at work."

She laughed. "Oh, that was a subtle hint."

"I know. I'm the queen of subtle. Flowers are not a requirement."

"So we can do something on Sunday?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. "We can talk on the phone."

"What if I want to see you?"

I thought about it. "If you promise to behave, I'll let you take me to lunch or dinner and not count it as one of our three dates."

"What does 'behave' mean?"

"Friends, not a date."

"I have to keep my hands to myself?"

"Hell no," I told her. "But no more than tonight, and I won't be inviting you for tea when you drop me off."

"I'll call you Sunday morning," she said.

Then I pulled out of her embrace and led the way to the door, then stood in her way. When she tried to slip past me, I reached up and pulled her mouth to mine one more time, stepping closer and putting my hand on her ass. I gave it a squeeze.

It was a short, playful kiss, and I giggled when we were done. "Thank you, Gwendolyn," I told her. "I had an absolutely beautiful time."

She smiled before slipping out the door.

Adventure

Saturday morning dawned far too early after a late night, and I went to bed still wired, so it took time to fall asleep. Still, I managed to roll out of bed shortly after six and was moderately awake and ready to go at seven. Moira was right on time.

I was dressed in jeans and a blouse and had a sweater and a jacket sitting out. I also had both tennis shoes and hiking shoes ready. In a small suitcase I had all the accoutrements for a date.

Moira was wearing jeans, a denim shirt, and hiking shoes.

I let her in, then wrapped myself in her arms and offered a hello kiss. It was short but lovely, and it felt good to be in her arms again.

I really didn't know what was going on with my emotions with these two women, but I had decided to just go with it for now. It made it easier to give them the dates they were paying for. I was pretty sure so far they had both been pleased.

"Good morning," I said, looking up at her. "You feel good."

She smiled. "So do you."

I showed her everything I had selected. I still didn't know where she was taking me, so I didn't know what I would need. "Either set of shoes are fine. The date clothes are perfect. I don't think you'll need the sweater, but if you get cold easily, you may want to bring it."

"While we're outside, how active will we be?"

"Hmm." She thought about her answer. "Walking, perhaps slowly."

"But not, for instance, an outdoor picnic."

"No." I brought the sweater, just in case. I could leave it in the car.

"Did you have a nice date with Gwendolyn last night?" she asked before we stepped outside with all my things.

"Yes, I did, thank you."

"Good. Then I don't have to postpone this."

"Nope. You are free to ravage my lips unimpeded with the knowledge you're stealing kisses that should belong to Gwendolyn."

She laughed. "I rather doubt you're ready for ravaging yet."

"Will you be touching me like you did on Tuesday?"

She turned to face me. "Are you trying to figure out what we're doing?"

"I want to know what to expect, but you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to tell."

"Have you pried any more deeply since our conversation about that?"

"No."

She smiled and nodded. "This is going to feel more like friends than a date until dinner time. Then it will be a date, and if you allow it, lots and lots of touching. We will arrive back home very late."

"Well then," I said. "Unless we need to raid my refrigerator for sustenance, I am ready to go."

She said she had everything we needed and helped me carry my things to her car. Once on the road, we made small talk about nothing important.

We had driven for about fifteen minutes, most of it on the freeway, before she said, "Will you humor me?"

"Maybe." I grinned.

"Open the glove box, please."

It was right in front of me. I took a moment to figure out how to open it, but when I did, I found a black silk scarf waiting for me.

"I don't want you to see where we're going. Will you use that as a blindfold and agree not to try to peek?" She paused. "If you agree to not peek, but then do, I will be upset with you."

"Are you kidnapping me and selling me into white slavery?"

She laughed. "No. If I were to kidnap you, it would be to keep you."

"Well, that's all right then." I wrapped the scarf twice around my eyes and tied it with a double knot, then adjusted it. There was a tiny bit of light coming in from the bottom, but as long as I didn't intentionally try to peek, I couldn't see a thing. I told her that.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're being very mysterious," I told her.

"Does it make you nervous?"

"No. Just curious. I'm like the cat."

"I hope this cat can control her curiosity."

"Within limits."

We exited the freeway and I tried to figure out where we were. I didn't have a clue.

"So why all the mystery?" I asked.

"The next part I want you to see all at once, not little bits. Just a few more minutes. Thank you for humoring me."

We made a few more turns, then we came to a stop and she opened her window for a moment. There was a pause, then we moved forward and drove slowly, making a variety of turns.

"All right," she said. "We're there. I want you to stay in the car and no peeking. Please, Pamela, no peeking."

"No peeking," I agreed.

"I'll be back to get you in a couple of minutes."

She slipped from the car, and I sat there quietly, my hands in my lap. The mystery was actually rather fun, and being blindfolded left me trusting her a little. I decided I liked that, too.

She was gone for several minutes. I heard motor noises twice, but I couldn't have placed them. Other than that it was quieter, as if we had found a refuge from all the noises of the city. I heard no cars drive past us, no car doors slamming, no voices.

She made two trips to the car to collect our things. "Just a few more minutes, Pamela."

Finally she came and opened my door.

I turned to face her but of course, couldn't see anything.

"I want you to get out and take my arm," she said. "It's a short walk."

"Are there four hundred people out there who are going to stare at me in this blindfold?"

"Not a person in sight," she said.

I unlatched my seatbelt and slipped out of the car. She moved me to lean against the car while she locked up, then she took my arm. We walked across gravel before stepping onto pavement. It was chilly, and I was glad I had my jacket.

"My sweater?"

"I have it," she said. "Almost there."

The pavement changed feel and then she brought me to a stop. Then she stepped behind me and adjusted the direction I was facing. "Close your eyes, Pamela, while I remove the blindfold."

"Closed," I said.

I felt her untie the scarf then she removed it from over my eyes. She stepped closer behind me and wrapped her arms around me, her head over my right shoulder, and she said into that ear, "Open your eyes."

I opened my eyes and found myself staring at a small airplane. A very small airplane.

I looked around. We were standing in a small hangar at the airport. Not the main airport, but one of the small ones. I looked back at the airplane, then over my shoulder at Moira. "You fly."

"Yes."

I looked back at the airplane. "We're going somewhere in that?"

"Unless you say 'no'."

She was waiting for a real reaction from me. I didn't know the first thing about airplanes. It had two wings and was clean. And small. I couldn't have told you anything more than that about it.

"Is it safe?"

"Yes. I am a very good pilot."

"What if something breaks?"

"The vast majority of airplane accidents are due to pilot error, not mechanical failure, and most of those fall into specific categories such as running out of fuel or doing stupid stunts."

"Where are we going?"

"I'd rather not tell you."

I thought about getting into it and decided it would definitely qualify as an adventure. I hadn't really ever thought about flying in a small airplane, but with Moira piloting it, the idea was appealing.

"Is it a nice airplane?"

I could tell she was disappointed by the question. "Yes."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't know anything about them. Will you show me why it's nice?"

"All right," she said. "First, look at that one." She pointed to another airplane in the hangar. This one had a wing over your head when you sat in it whereas in Moira's plane, it was like you were sitting on the wing. "Look. It's kind of boxy, right? And it has those struts hanging out in the wind."

"Struts?"

She walked me over to the plane. "These," she said, putting her hand on a piece of metal tube that was attached to the middle of the wing on one end and descended at an angle to attach to the bottom of the body of the airplane. "It's there for support." Then she pointed at bumps on the wing. "These are rivets. They stick up into the slipstream when you're flying, with each one giving you a tiny bit of drag, that slows you down."

"All right."

Then she pointed at the wheels. "The landing gear is fixed. It hangs out there in the wind the entire time, slowing you down some more." She took me to the front of the plane and pointed to the propeller. "This is a fixed pitch propeller." She paused. "That's harder to explain."

"All right."

She took me to her plane. "Now compare it to mine."

"All right. First, no struts."

"Right."

I walked up to it. "No bumps."

"Right. The rivets on this plane are flush mounted, which is more work, but smoother."

I looked back and forth between the two planes. "This one looks sleeker."

"Yes. Faster?"

I looked back and forth again. "Yes, sleeker and faster."

She crouched down and pointed to the wheels "The wheels retract, hiding up inside the wing once we're in the air."

"So this is a faster plane?"

"About fifty percent faster. That one," she said, pointing to the other plane, "flies at about 95 knots. This one flies a little over 150."

"Knot?"

"A little faster than one mile per hour."

"So, one hundred sixty miles per hour instead of one hundred?"

"About, yes."

Then she pulled me to the front of the plane and pointed to the propeller. "This is a constant speed propeller. Again, it's hard to explain, but the effect you care about is that once we're in the air, it is quieter with less vibration. I care about those plus the fuel efficiency."

I turned to face her. "So it's a beautiful airplane?"

She smiled. "Yes. Are you willing to fly with me?"

I returned her smile. "Of course. It sounds like fun." I paused and gave her a critical look. "You won't get me sick will you?"

"No. No loop-di-loops."

"Where do I sit?"

"You'll have to get in after I do," she said. "Unfortunately, the only door is on the passenger side. I didn't want to make you wait in the car while I did the preflight inspection, so we'll be a few minutes."

At that, she walked me to the left side of the plane and climbed onto the wing. "I'll explain how to get in shortly," she said. "For now, wait on the ground."

I nodded. She opened the door and climbed in. I heard her flip some switches and do some things inside. Then the plane spit up on the ground.

"There's a leak!"

"It's okay. That was intentional. I'll explain in a minute."

The wriggled some controls, and the various pieces of the plane wagged at me, then she climbed back out with a checklist in her hand and a little plastic cup. "We start here and we check for things that look wrong. She looked under the plane, then began walking around it clockwise, heading first for the tail. She brushed her fingers along the skin of the plane as she walked. She examined a little hole in the side of the plane, then moved to the tail. She gave it a little shake, then walked to the back of the plane. I followed her.

She pointed to bolts that were holding the rearmost parts of the back wing to the rest of the back wing. "I make sure the bolts are properly seated. Nothing loose." Then she did the same thing to the back of the tail that went up and down. It moved, too.

We continued to walk around the plane. There was another hole to look at, then the parts along the back of the front wings to check. When we got to the front of the plane, she opened a fuel cap in the wing and looked into it. "Full." She showed me. The fuel was an inch or two from the top. She put the cap back on.

She crouched under the wing and reached forward. I didn't see what she did, but when she crawled back out, the little plastic cup was full of a slightly blue liquid.

"Is that gas?"

"Yes," she said. "There is a little drain at the lowest point of the wing, and water is heavier than gasoline. If there were any water in the fuel, I would be able to tell."

At the very front of the plan, she looked into two big holes right behind the propeller, then ran her fingers slowly along the propeller. "Feeling for nicks," she said. "There are a few very light ones, which are okay, but anything serious means we wouldn't fly."

At the other wing, she checked the fuel again, then she crouched under that side and checked the gas there, too. Then she pointed to the fuel on the ground. "That spit out from the lowest point of the entire fuel system. If there were water in it, you could see. I've never had that happen, but you check anyway."

We finished our tour of the airplane and she turned to me. "I need to pull it out of the hangar and close up."

"Do you want help?"

"No. Just don't let me run you over."

She stepped to the front of the plane. I stepped back. She grabbed the propeller and a metal handle that was attached to the front wheel and began pulling. The plane moved slowly at first, and I could tell she was pulling as hard as she could, but then it began to roll, and it looked easier. She pulled the plane out of the hanger and onto the blacktop, then turned it to the right and let it come to a stop. The she waved me clear of the hangar door and closed it slowly before rejoining me outside.

"Fit to fly. Last chance to change your mind."

"No way," I said. "This cat is just more curious than ever."

She smiled broadly. "I'm glad. I hope you enjoy this. We will be in the air for about two and a half hours. I hope you don't need to use the bathroom."

I did some math. "Four hundred miles."

"Honey, please don't ruin this. Let me surprise you."

"Are you going to blindfold me again?"

"No."

"Are we having steak for dinner?"

"Maybe," she said.

"They have nice steaks in Omaha."

"They do."

"There's nothing to do in Fargo," I observed.

"Fargo isn't that far, anyway."

"We're not dressed for International Falls."

She glared at me. "You're pushing my buttons."

I grinned. "I wonder how far it is to Rapid City."

She smiled but didn't say anything. "Are you done?"

"For now."

"Brat."

I bowed. "At your service." Then I stepped into her arms and surprised her with a quick kiss. "I love our date so far."

She showed me how I would climb into the plane, pointing where I could and could not step. "You can hang on to this handle, and there is a handle inside the door. Do not hang onto the door itself."

"Right."

She climbed in first. I waited until she had moved into her seat, then carefully followed her. While standing on the wing at the door, I saw she had a towel on my seat. I stepped onto the towel then slipped into the plane. She whisked the towel out from under me as I sat down.

"There are two sets of controls!" I said. "You're not expecting me to help, are you? Am I the co-pilot?"

"Nope. You get to ride along and enjoy the trip. I need you to pull the door closed. I can't reach it without crawling all over your lap."

I reached up, stretching, and grabbed hold of the handle on the door.

"Just close it gently," she said. "I'll handle it from there." So I brought it to a gentle close. She reached past me and did something, and I heard the door latch closed tightly.

Then she adjusted her seat, and I saw pedals on the floor moving in front of me.

"Will you teach me?" I asked her.

I looked over and she was smiling. "I would love to. Do you really want to learn?"

"Yes."

"All right. You can adjust your seat just like on a car. There's a lever underneath you. Pull it up and slide your seat so that you can reach the pedals with your feet, but make sure you have enough room that you can keep your feet out of the way when I'm flying."

It took me a few tries, but finally I was adjusted. I could reach the pedals. Then she did something with the steering wheel. It went forward and backwards, and she made sure it didn't punch me in the tummy.

We buckled up. It was more complicated than a car, and she handed me a set of headphones that were huge.

"You'll want that after we start up," she said. "Last, last chance."

"This is going to be fun, Moira. I'm a little nervous, but not afraid."

"Good." Then she consulted a checklist, flipping pages until she arrived at the one she wanted. She started doing things with all the switches in front of her. "If you take real lessons, the instructor will teach you all this," she said.

"Not you?"

"I can, but I'm not a professional flight instructor, so it wouldn't count if you were to decide to get your license."

"So a flight instructor would have to show me again?"

She nodded.

"I would rather learn from you first, even if I have to learn again from someone else."

She smiled, then reached over and patted my knee. "Next time. If you're really curious, I'll give you books to read first."

She flipped a few more switches then said, "I'm going to start it up. It will be a little bit loud. You'll want the headphones after that."

"I won't be able to hear you."

She reached over and pointed at a microphone on the headset.

"Ohh," I said.

She flipped one more switch, then turned the key. The propeller turned around a couple of times, then the engine roared to life. Moira adjusted some controls, and it grew quieter. I put on my headphones and watched her put on hers.

"Can you hear me?" I heard over the headphones.

"Yes."

She looked over and adjusted my microphone. It had been sticking up alongside my ear. She moved it until it was right at the corner of my mouth. "Try again," she said.

"Better?"

"There we go. Now, I need you to make sure you keep your feet clear of the pedals."

"All clear."

She did something, and the engine grew a little louder, and we began rolling forward. We rolled until we had reached the end of the row of hangars we were next to before we came to a stop.

Then she began playing with the radios and tuned in an automated voice that was describing the weather. She pulled a clipboard out from a side pocket and began taking notes. She listened to the recording twice before flipping switches on the radio again. It grew quiet.

"I need to talk to the tower for a minute, so no talking."

I nodded.

"Crystal Ground, Mooney three seven five yankee delta, at northeast hangers with information papa, request taxi to the active."

I heard another voice say, "Mooney three seven five yankee delta, proceed to active, hold short, runway three two right."

Then Moira said, "Hold short, three two right. Yankee delta." She paused. "There we go. You can talk again."

"What was that?"

She gave the engine some gas, and we began to roll forward.

"We asked the tower if we could drive over to the beginning of the runway. He told us yes but told us don't actually go onto the runway without additional permission."

We made a left turn, and I looked over. The tower was out my right window. Straight ahead I could see downtown Minneapolis.

The ride was rougher than in a car. I could feel every bump. I grimaced at one bump and she said, "Shock absorbers are heavy. It's smooth in the air, and that's what matters."

I nodded.

We arrived at what appeared to be a parking area near the end of the runway. She spun us around so we were facing the way we had come. I watched as another airplane landed. It rolled along the runway then took off again.

"What was that?"

"Practicing landings. Pilots do that a lot." She paused. "I have another checklist to run through, if you can hold your questions."

"Sure."

She talked to herself, running through another page of checklists and flipping switches. Then she did something and the engine grew loud. She tapped several gauges, then quieted the engine again.

"All set," she said. She gave it a little gas and we rolled forward a few feet before she turned us to the left and took us near the runway. She flipped switches on the radio. "I have to talk to the tower again."

I nodded.

"Crystal Tower, Mooney three seven five yankee delta, holding short, runway three two right. Requesting takeoff and northeast departure."

"Mooney three seven five yankee delta, cleared to take off, runway three two right, right turn approved."

"Yankee delta," she said.

We rolled forward and turned to face down the runway.

"Last chance, Pamela," she said. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Let's go, Moira. This is exciting!"

"No talking now for the next few minutes, then we can talk all the way to our destination."

"Gotcha."

She gave it some gas, and the engine grew loud, even through the headphones. We began rolling.

"I know it's loud," she said. "But open your headset for a second and see what it's like without them."

I cracked the seal around my ear, and it was really, really loud. I resettled the headphone in place and nodded to her.

We continued to roll forward, going faster and faster.

"It will be quieter soon," she said. "Here we go." She pulled back on the steering wheel. "We're flying."

I looked out the window. The wing was right below us, but I looked ahead and watched the ground disappearing below us.

"You'll want to look out, not down. If you look down, you're more likely to get airsick."

I nodded. She had told me not to talk.

"We're about to turn to the right," she warned me. "The first turn can be a little scary." She waited a few more seconds, then the wing on my side dipped to the ground. I watched as we began a slow turn towards the right. Then she leveled the wings. I looked down and saw the freeway below us. We followed the freeway.

"There are large towers in Shoreview," she said. "And the international airport has a big airspace we can't fly through without permission, so we follow the freeway for now, threading the needle. Once we're well clear of the cities, I'll show you the basics."

She did something, and the engine grew a lot quieter. "See? The joy of a constant speed propeller."

After another minute, she flipped switches on the radio and said, "You can talk now, Pamela."

"Moira! This is so cool!"

She glanced over. "I was so worried you would hate it."

"Are you kidding? This is amazing. How long have you been flying?"

"My father flies. I've been around airplanes my entire life. This is the second plane of my own. I bought it three years ago."

"Expensive?"

"A little." She paused. "The first one I bought cost about as much as a car, and it was very old and slow. This one is three times that, and it's about as old as you are."

"Wow." I said. "It looks great for being thirty years old. I can't imagine a car this old."

"Planes get better maintenance, don't have to deal with salt on the roads, and have fewer moving parts. And get flown less than most cars are driven." She paused. "The engine is fairly new. I replaced the old one at the last overhaul."

"That sounds expensive."

"About the cost of a car."

"Ouch. So you're saying I can't afford one."

She laughed. "You'd have to start with a less expensive plane. Or put out a lot and get me to let you fly this one, but this is a bad trainer."

I chuckled.

It was a beautiful day, and I could see forever. Downtown Minneapolis was on our right, and it looked beautiful. Ahead, I could see the large towers she had told me about. They were taller than we were flying.

"You could hit those."

"I've never heard of it happening, but I'm sure it must, somewhere. We'll pass about a mile south of them. That's closer than I like, but I don't want to go around them to the north."

"A mile is close?"

"Yeah. A mile is a near miss."

We grinned at each other.

The radio made noise at us from time to time. Every time it did, I shut up, but Moira seemed to be ignoring it. "They aren't talking to us?"

"No. I'm just monitoring them, just in case. Once we're well clear of Minneapolis, I'll turn it off."

We passed to the south of the big towers, still following the freeway as it passed through the northern suburbs. Moira told me a story about her father teaching her to fly. "I was eight, and I couldn't reach the pedals. I needed a booster seat to see over the dash. But I got to fly. It was amazing."

Finally we left the freeway behind as it turned south through the eastern suburbs. Ahead I could just start to see the St. Croix River, and past it, Wisconsin.

"Figured out where we're going yet?"

"Chicago. Did I ruin your surprise?"

"No. I knew you would figure it out when you guessed the distance and saw the direction we were flying."

We flew over the St. Croix River and were inside Wisconsin. "We're going to climb higher now, then I'll teach you the basics."

She pressed a lever, and the engine noise increased, then she pulled on the steering wheel, and the nose lifted into the sky a little. She tapped an instrument on her side. "This is the altimeter. It tells us how high we are above sea level. The ground around here varies, but it's right around one thousand feet."

I looked at the altimeter. "So we're about two thousand feet above the ground?"

"Right. Good. I watched the needle as it turned clockwise."

"You won't want to stare at that, Pamela. Glance at it, but look outside most of the time. Watch for other airplanes."

"I thought you said I didn't have to help."

She laughed. "It's good practice."

She took us up until the altimeter showed fifty-five hundred feet, then leveled out. "We'll fly higher later, but this is a good height to practice."

Then she explained the controls. The pedals operated the rudder.

"Rudder?"

"Like a rudder on a boat."

"Oh, the thing at the back of the tail."

"Right. They also operate the front wheel, which is currently tucked up in the belly. And they are also the brakes. If you flex your toes, it operates a brake, one pedal for the right wheel, one for the left. On the ground, you steer entirely with your feet."

"Not the steering wheel?"

"Yoke. No. Not the yoke. For today, you can ignore the pedals. It's not fully proper, but in this plane, it's close enough."

She explained the yoke, demonstrating. She pushed forward, and the nose dipped. She pulled back, and the nose lifted. She turned the yoke to the right, and the plane began to tip.

"All right," she said. "Using just a few fingers, grab the yoke."

"Am I going to crash us?"

"No. Hang on very lightly and look out the window."

I grabbed the yoke with three fingers of my right hand and looked outside.

"What is the plane doing?"

"Flying."

"Are you doing anything?"

"No."

"Look over at me."

I did. Her hands were in her lap. I immediately tightened my grip on the yoke, and suddenly I felt the plane wobbling all over the place. I screeched.

"Let go," she said calmly, her hands still in her lap.

"But-"

"Pamela, trust me. Let go."

I released the yoke. The plan wobbled a little, then went back to flying straight and level.

I looked outside. I looked at her. Her hands were still in her lap. I looked outside again. We were flying along, as serene as you can imagine.

"Auto pilot?"

"I have one. It's turned off."

"The plane flies better without me."

"Now, with just your thumb and two fingers, grab the yoke very lightly, like you're holding an egg."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

I took the yoke. The plane wobbled slightly, but I held the yoke as lightly as I could.

"Now, it's not a car. You don't move the yoke. You just give it a little pressure. I want you to push directly forward, just a little bit. A little pressure. Don't think about moving the yoke."

I pushed forward lightly, and the nose dipped towards the ground.

"Release the pressure and pull back just as lightly. Release again when we're level again."

I did what she said.

"Wow! That is so cool!"

"I know," she said. "Now, a turn. It's the same thing, but you rotate the yoke. Let's do a gentle right turn."

I put a small amount of clockwise pressure on the yoke, and it began to bank towards my side.

"Good. Relax and we'll hold this bank," she said. "Give it a tiny bit of back pressure towards you to keep the nose from dipping."

I held the turn for a while. It was wobbly, but the plane turned towards the south.

"Okay, level the wings the same way you banked them, but the other direction." I did that, and soon we were flight straight again.

We spent the next half hour with me flying the plane. I became better and more relaxed and was grinning the entire time. Finally she had me point the plane to Chicago. "Keep us on this heading," she said. "Wake me up when you can see Chicago in the distance."

"Moira!"

She giggled.

"Having fun?" she asked.

"Yes. Is it really this easy?"

"For a start. You won't be doing the landing though."

We flew along, talking about flying. Then I turned to her. "Is today about impressing me?"

"Maybe some," she said. "But really, I thought it would be fun. And I wanted you for an entire day."

"If I were gay, would I be your type?"

"I don't really have a type," she said. "But would you be someone I would want to date? Yes."

"Date? Or relationship?"

She looked over at me and studied me. "That sounded like a more serious question than a simple answer allows." She paused. "I'll answer that if you'll answer an equally personally question."

"All right."

"Yes, you would be someone I could get serious about."

"Is there anyone else you're currently serious about?"

"No. If there were, I wouldn't have bid on you. That wouldn't be fair to her."

"All right." I smiled. "Thank you for answering. Your turn."

"Are you getting curious?"

"Curious?"

"Wondering what a relationship with a woman might be like."

"No." I paused. "Wondering what a relationship with you would be like."

She was silent for a while before quietly asking, "Are you teasing me?"

"No. I'm not making promises, either. But if it was a completely ridiculous thought, then I wanted to know."

She was silent again. I glanced over, and she was looking out the window on her side.

"Shouldn't you be monitoring the radios or the altimitthingie-ma-jiggee?"

She laughed. "You're doing great." Then she turned and looked at me. "Are you asking yourself the same questions about your new surgeon friend?"

"Yes." I paused. "A relationship with her would be very different than one with you."

"How so?"

I paused. I wasn't comfortable answering that. I didn't know how to answer it without violating Gwendolyn's privacy. Finally I said, "You and Gwendolyn are very different people. You both have treated me very well, better than any guy I've ever dated, so far at least. The attention you both give me is deeply flattering as well, and I'm probably caught up in that quite a bit." I paused. "I wasn't kidding when I said our date on Tuesday was my best date ever." I paused. "This one so far is so completely different, I couldn't begin to compare them."

She smiled, but didn't interrupt.

"You and I, we seem to fit. We're in the same industries, whether I want to be or not. But we could talk work with each other and understand each other. I understand your job and you understand mine."

"Whereas Gwendolyn is a surgeon," Moira said. "And frankly, doesn't have anything else she can talk about."

"That part isn't entirely true," I said. "You have to take the time to ask the right questions."

Neither of us spoke for a minute or two before Moira said, "How is it you figured that out after one date when no one else has?"

"Maybe everyone else was willing to be whisked off to bed so quickly they didn't care about anything else."

I looked over and she was staring at me with a rapt expression. "You're amazing," she said. "Truly amazing."

"I'm not so special," I said. "But thank you for saying so."

"You haven't answered my question though. How would it be different, other than talking about work?"

"You are different people. Different strengths and weaknesses."

"Gwendolyn doesn't have weaknesses."

I glanced at her. "Maybe you're right."

"Oh hell, you found her weaknesses?"

"We're not talking about anything that may or may not have been said in private. Please don't pry."

We flew along with only the sound of the engine and the wind blowing over the plane. Then Moira said, "I have never wanted someone more than I want you right now."

I looked over, and she looked serious. I began to blush furiously, but I also felt myself growing wet. Her words settled into my core and gave me a warm, happy glow.

"I'm not ready for that yet, Moira." I said. "And I don't want to lead you on. I don't know what I want right now. But I know I love the way you treat me, and I really like you. I love how you make me feel. I just wonder if this is what it would really be like with you, and you may not be interested afterwards, if we went down that path. I might be a really bad lay."

She laughed. "I would be happy to teach you."

"I imagine you would. You would want me to get lots of practice."

"Exactly."

I paused. "Sam had me look up the word pansexual."

"Did you?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"I don't know." I paused. "You need to let me figure this out. I suspect you could sweep me away. Please let me figure this out. And if you decide you're unlikely to be interested, tell me so I won't break my heart."

"I'm older than you are, but quite a bit," she said.

I glanced at her. "Less than ten years," I said. "Almost nothing."

"Honey," she said. "Fifteen. At least. You're what? Late twenties?"

"Thirty-one."

"Thirteen years," she said.

I glanced at her. "I was guessing younger. The difference doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you."

We both stared forward for a couple of minutes. Then Moira tapped the compass thing on the panel. We had drifted off course. I did a right turn until we were back on course again.

"Good," she said. Then she taped the altimeter. We were five hundred feet low.

"You didn't teach me how to fix that."

"My airplane," she said, putting her hands on the controls. I released them. She gave the engine more power and lifted the nose. When we were back to our assigned altitude and everything was settled out, she said, "Your airplane."

I took the controls again.

"I'm really flying."

"Yes, honey, you are."

I glanced over at her. "How many other women have you flown to Chicago?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"More than five?"

"No."

"Three?"

"Fewer."

"Two?"

"Fewer?"

"One?"

"So far, about one half," she said. "We're not there yet."

"I'm the first?"

"Yes." She paused. "However, in all honesty, I took one woman on a vacation to New Orleans and another one to Key West. I've taken a few flying, but not that many. This is special to me."

"But you're sharing it with me."

"You're special to me."

"Cause you're hoping to win that toaster oven?"

She looked over at me and gave me The Look. "Don't trivialize this."

"I'm sorry."

"If I wanted to get laid, I could have bid on Bonnie."

"I'm sorry."

"You're special, Pamela."

"I don't understand that. Bonnie is at least as smart as I am, and probably has more street smarts."

"Bonnie has spent several nights with Gwendolyn. Do you think you know things about Gwendolyn that Bonnie doesn't even suspect?"

"We talked about that."

"Gwendolyn is a friend of mine," Moira said. "We've never slept together. We would fight horribly. But we're friends. Do you know things about her I don't?"

I nodded.

"Have I made my point?"

"No."

She sighed.

"Maybe," I said. "I don't know. It doesn't seem special. We talked. I listened. I asked questions. She trusted me."

Moira smiled hugely. "Exactly. She trusted you."

I thought about it. "We can't talk about that."

"I know. But you understand now? You're special."

"Thank you."

She paused. "I was watching you when you figured out it was an LGBT event."

"I made a fool of myself."

"No, you didn't." She paused. "It was funny watching Bernard try to calm you down."

"He was very sweet."

"Bernard is amazing. That's why Sam assigned him to you. The point is, I figured out what had happened. You were so angry, and you had every right to be. I watched you exchange words with Bonnie and figured out she was involved. Then you disappeared into the back room. It made me sad to think you'd be leaving."

"You just wanted me in that gown."

"I admit you were ravishing," she said. "But I liked your passion."

"Anyone can get angry."

"And then after fifteen minutes, you reappeared. I could tell you had been crying, but you lifted your head and were very gracious to everyone. I followed you around."

"I didn't notice. We didn't talk until you asked your questions." I glanced over at her. "When did you decide to bid on me?"

"The instant I saw the gown. But then I saw you hadn't come there with full knowledge, so I needed to know if your participation would be full hearted or if you would just go through the motions."

"You bid too much for me. You both did."

"Are you kidding? I got a steal. I saw the look in Gwendolyn's eyes. I could have bid your price up a lot higher than I could have paid, and she would have kept raising me. I wasn't going to win. So I made the proposal I did."

"Did I really cost you the commission on three houses?"

"No. I was trying to bluff Gwendolyn."

I did another course correction before Moira could point it out to me, then noticed we were low again. "Why do I keep losing altitude?"

"You're probably putting just a tiny bit of forward pressure on the yoke."

As soon as she said it, I knew she was right. I relaxed the forward pressure and pulled backwards just a little. We began climbing again. When we reached our altitude, I released the pressure.

"Good," she said. "The standard for brand new pilots is plus or minus two hundred feet. You are more likely to lose it during maneuvers than when going straight, but on a long flight, it's easy to lose track."

"You're spoiling me," I said. "I could never afford to fly on my own."

"Whether or not we enter into a romantic relationship, Pamela, I will happily take you flying, with or without kisses afterwards."

"You must have so many friends already."

"Acquaintances," she said. "Not that many friends."

We flew along for a while. I glanced down and saw the wrinkled countryside of Wisconsin passing along below us. I reached over and put my left hand on Moira's leg. She immediately covered my hand with hers.

We didn't talk for a while, then I felt her stir. She was reaching into the side pocket and pulled out a map. I glanced at it. It looked weird.

"Keep flying," she said. "I want you to fly us most of the way there. I'll manage the radios and tell you what to do. I'll take over when we get close to the airport."

"Don't let me crash us!"

"Have no fear."

She opened the map, then glancing between both the map and the panel, she adjusted the radios. A voice came over the speakers with more recorded information. She listened for a minute, adjusting more things on the panel, and suddenly we were two hundred feet two high.

"Did I do that?"

"No. Different air pressure. Let her come down, but no rush."

She changed the radios again and the recording went away, but after a moment I heard a live voice. There was an exchange between two people.

"That was an airliner talking to Chicago approach," she said. "We'll start talking to them soon. You'll need to be quiet."

I nodded.

We talked for a little bit further. Moira was watching the panels, then held up a finger for me to be silent. She keyed the radio and began talking to Chicago approach. When she was done, she said, "We're going to start descending. I'm going to adjust the trim. Let the plane come down the way it wants."

Then she rotated a wheel, and I felt the pressure on the yoke change. I left off the pressure, and the nose dropped a little. The altimeter started slowly winding down.

I stayed at the controls for another twenty minutes before Moira said, "There's the airport." She pointed straight ahead. "Can you see it?"

I looked, then suddenly I saw the runways. I nodded.

"Head straight towards the middle." She paused. "I am adjusting the trim again. Hold this altitude."

The trim changed again, and the plane leveled out. I didn't need to do much.

"My airplane for just a moment," she said. She took the controls, adjusted the wheel again, then said, "Your airplane. Next time we do this, I'll teach you what I just did, but not today."

The airport grew closer. Moira talked on the radio.

"All right, Pamela. You're going to fly the plane most of the way to the ground, but I'm going to ride along on the controls and fix things for you."

"I'm scared."

"We're fine. You're doing really well." She paused. "Right turn now, we want to be parallel to the runways with the runway out my window."

I started a right turn. I saw Moira pull back on the yoke a little. "Level out," she said. And I straightened the wings.

"Look over my window. See the runway?"

I glanced over. "Yes."

"Fly parallel to it, right at this distance, and hold this altitude."

"I can't." I said after a minute. I had the plane all over the sky.

"Calm down," she said. "You're doing great."

"Moira..."

"You're doing great, Pamela. Have faith."

We reached the end of the runway and I guessed about a mile away from it. "I'm going to lower the power. Hold the nose up and let the plane slow down."

She pulled the power and the nose dropped. I pulled back until we were level.

"Moira-"

"You're doing great. I'm going to help with the next turn. Let the nose drop now, we're doing good." She did something with the wheel between us. I let the nose drop until there wasn't any pressure.

She looked over her shoulder.

"Okay, left turn, perpendicular with the runway."

I started the turn, and I felt Moira helping me. "Perfect. Pull up the nose a little bit."

She played with the power setting and continued to guide me.

"Start another left turn now," she said. "And line us up with the runway."

"Moira, please."

"Start turning, Pamela."

I started the turn and straightened us out when we were facing the runway, more or less.

"Good job," she said. She paused then said, "My airplane. Ride along lightly on the controls so you can feel it."

Immediately the plane settled down. I'd been yanking it all over, or so it seemed, but under her touch, it smoothed out. Then we were over the runway, the ground rushing up to us. Moira pulled up on the nose, slowing our descent, and a siren started to sound.

"Ignore that," she said.

Over the next several seconds, she worked the controls, and then I realized we were down without so much as a bump. The plane's nose was in the air, and I could feel when the front wheel settled onto the runway. Then we were slowing down until finally we turned off the runway and came to a stop.

"No talking now until we're parked." And she was immediately talking to someone on the radio.

She drove us along the taxiway for a while, then turned us around, fiddled with some switches, then, with a small coughing sound, killed the engine. She flipped more switches, and it was quiet. I watched as she removed her headset.

I was sweating like a pig.

She reached over and took my headset off for me.

"You were great!" she said. "I've never let a first time pilot fly us that low. You were amazing." She put her arm around my shoulder and gave me a shoulder-to-shoulder hug.

"I'm all sticky now. That was hard!"

She smiled and helped me out of my seat belt, then reached past me and opened the door. Cool air came wafting into the plane, chilling the sweat on my skin. "Climb on out," Moira said. "Remember where it's safe to hold and to step."

I crawled out onto the wing before standing up, then slowly climbed down onto the ground. I turned around and waited for her. She crawled out, then closed the door and locked it before joining me on the ground. I immediately threw my arms around her.

"Eww! Sticky hugs!" but she was laughing and hugged me back.

"That was so much fun! Scary but fun! Will I get to fly us home?"

"If you want," she said. "But you're going to be worn out. We may let the auto pilot fly us there." She paused. "I won't let you help with the landing. Night landings are harder. But you'll do our take off."

"I couldn't!"

"Take offs are easy. I'll ride along on the controls and override you if I need to."

"Where is our stuff?" I asked.

"In back," she said. She turned to the plane and opened a small door in the side. She reached in and started handing things out to me. I ended up with my garment bag and small suitcase, and she had the same.

"Now we find our ride," she said. She led the way to a nearby building.

"Don't you have to put the plane away?"

"No. If we were staying overnight, or if it was windy, we would tie it down." She held the door to the building for me and I stepped inside. I looked around.

It was a modest building, about the size of a college classroom. There was a desk with someone waiting behind it, talking to a customer, and a corridor directly opposite us leading to other offices. There were a few people milling around or sitting on a sofa, most of them men of varying ages.

"Andi!" Moira said.

She stepped forward, and a slender woman with sharp features, a dark complexion, and black hair enveloped Moira in a deep hug that was passionately returned.

I was immediately jealous, and my back stiffened. It wasn't helped when I saw them kiss each other's cheeks.

"You look great," Moira told the other woman.

"So do you. How was the flight?"

"Fabulous." She pulled away and said, "Andi, this is Pamela. Pamela, Andi."

I stepped forward and shook Andi's hand somewhat coolly. Moira noticed my reaction. "Andi was my college roommate, Pamela. She is married with three children."

I immediately realized I was over-reacting. I smiled more warmly and told Andi I was pleased to meet her.

"I thought you said she was straight," Andi said to Moira. "She was jealous."

I began blushing and looked away. Moira stepped to my side and wrapped her arm around my waist. I leaned against her, still embarrassed.

Andi looked at me and said, "You're just as pretty as Moira described. No wonder she's besotted with you."

"She's not besotted," I said.

"So this is more complicated than you originally thought, Moira?" Andi said.

"Maybe. Maybe not." Moira looked down at me. "We'll see."

"Well, where am I taking you?" Andi asked.

"Your place first, if that's okay. Let us clean up a little. Then we want to go downtown. We'll take the train back in the afternoon and change for dinner."

"I could loan you a car," Andi said.

"I'd accept," Moira replied. "But I hate driving in Chicago. Just give me a second."

Moira stepped away from me and talked to the woman behind the counter for a moment. Andi and I eyed each other. Then Moira stepped back up to me.

"Well then," said Andi. She turned heel and led the way out a side door of the building, Moira and I following. Andi led the way to a parking lot and to the back of a Mercedes. She popped the trunk, and we slipped our things in. I climbed into the back seat behind Moira, fastened my seatbelt, and sat back to listen to the conversation.

Andi drove with a disregard for traffic laws. I almost closed my eyes for the last half of the ride. She glanced in the mirror and noticed my expression.

"Does my driving frighten you, Pamela?"

"I have no intention of criticizing," I told her. "Or distracting you."

"Now you know why I hate driving in Chicago," Moira said. "I have my eyes closed."

I laughed.

"You two are such babies," said Andi, narrowly avoiding another collision.

Andi and Moira talked quietly for the rest of the trip. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I presumed they were catching up. Finally we pulled up in front of a large, brick house. I stared at it. "Andi, what does your husband do for a living?"

"Don't be a sexist," she said. "He is a school teacher. I, however, am a vice president at an investment banking firm."

"Investment banking firm."

"Yes," she said.

Moira turned around to me and grinned. "Surprise number two. And they have a Minneapolis office. That is surprise number three."

Andi turned around and looked at me. "I understand you are a mortgage loan officer at a bank, but that you have an MBA in finance."

"Yes," I said in a small voice.

"I also understand you are disappointed working as a loan officer."

"Yes."

"I bet right about now you are wishing you hadn't dissed my driving or gotten jealous when I hugged Moira."

"Yes."

She laughed.

"I bet also you want to know whether we have openings in Minneapolis, and whether I can get you a job."

"Yes. Oh god."

She smiled at me. "Today is your date with Moira. I will give you my card, and you will call me next week. Yes, we have openings. I can't hire you, as I have no authority in Minneapolis, but I can get your resume to the top of the pile. After that, it would be up to you. But you will need to convince me you would be a good fit before I will put in a good word for you."

I looked at Moira. "Is this why we came to Chicago?"

"It's a bonus, but I'd already decided to take you here before I thought Andi might be able to help you."

We climbed out of the car and retrieved our bags from the trunk, then Andi led the way into the house. She gave us a tour before directing us to a bathroom we could use to freshen up.

"Pamela, you may use this room. Moira, unless your relationship has you sharing a bathroom, you may use my master bath."

Moira looked at me. "Just clean up, Pamela. The day is casual with a lot of walking. We'll come back to change for dinner." I nodded.

I spent about twenty minutes cleaning up as best I could without taking a shower. When I was done, I felt relatively fresh. I stepped out of the bathroom and descended the stairs, finding Moira and Andi sitting on stools in the kitchen.

"Better?" Andi asked me.

"Yes, thank you. She let me fly."

"Oh, she did that with me a few times. It was nerve-wracking."

"I don't know what the big deal is," Moira said quietly.

"Yes, Ms. Flying Since She Was Seven," I said. Moira and Andi laughed.

We headed back out to Andi's car and I closed my eyes as she drove us downtown. She must have noticed because I heard her say, "Chicken" to me.

We came to a stop and she told Moira, "Call me from the train station and I will pick you up."

"Thank you, Andi. You're a doll."

"Of course I am." She looked back at me. "Have a good time in the Windy City."

We climbed out of the car, and Andi drove away to the sound of honking cars.

"How often is she in an accident?"

"A few times a year. Never very seriously, but I worry about her."

I stepped closer to Moira. "Are you really besotted?"

She looked down at me and took my hand. "Don't believe everything Andi tells you." Then she tugged me along the sidewalk before saying quietly. "Yes."

I squeezed her hand.

First she took me to a bakery where we bought coffee and croissants. We stood on a bridge over a river, or a canal, and watched the boats drive underneath while eating our croissants. It was a beautiful, sunny morning, and the sun glistened off the green water.

"What is the plan?" I asked.

"Museum, then lunch, then we'll go visit the Water Tower. After that, back to Andi's."

We walked side by side down the street, holding hands. Soon I could see Lake Michigan in front of us. We turned right and walked a few blocks before arriving at a museum. We walked towards the museum doors. Just as we were about to enter, I pulled Moira to the side, then stepped up to her and wrapped myself in her arms. I pulled her lips down for a kiss.

It wasn't a long kiss, but it was sweet and lovely.

She was smiling when next I looked at her.

We spent the next two hours in the museum. It was fantastic, and being there with Moira made it especially sweet. When walking between exhibits, we held hands, but when looking at an exhibit, Moira tended to stand behind me, her arms wrapped around me, or her hands stroking my arms. At one point I looked over my shoulder and said to her, "I am going to become addicted to that."

"Good," was all she said.

We finished at the museum. "I'm so hungry," I told her. "But I could have spent more time here."

"Me, too. We'll come back sometime."

I smiled. "I would like that, Moira."

I slipped my jacket back on, and, hand in hand, we walked to a little Thai restaurant she knew of a couple of blocks off Michigan Avenue. While we ate, we played footsie under the table.

I knew I should be questioning what I was doing. I was falling in love with her. There had been times when I'd considered seducing Sam or letting Bonnie seduce me, but I'd never been serious about it, and I'd never met any of their gay friends who interested me.

Moira definitely interested me.

Over lunch I decided not to worry about it. I was just going to let it go. That wasn't my normal personality, but I could tie myself in knots if I tried to get my head around everything I was feeling.

I knew I liked the way she treated me. I knew I liked how it felt to be in her arms. I knew we fit as friends. That was something I had rarely had with men, a man who enjoyed doing any of the same things I did, yet Moira appeared to enjoy everything I did.

And I knew I loved kissing her.

I couldn't resolve all of that with how I felt about Gwendolyn, who also treated me well, but who was complicated with a dark past. Gwendolyn needed someone to take care of her emotional side, if she was even going to have an emotional side. Life with Gwendolyn would be exciting at times, but I thought it might be very lonely at times, too. But she needed me, or someone like me.

"Earth to Pamela," Moira was saying. "Honey?"

I refocused my eyes. "I'm sorry," I told her.

"What were you just thinking?"

I thought about whether I wanted to tell her.

"You can tell me," she said when I paused.

I smiled. "I was trying to figure out what is going on with my emotions."

"Good things?"

"Confusing things. Maybe good. We fit."

She smiled. "Yes, we do."

"You probably find me boring."

She sighed. "You aren't normally given to saying stupid things." I shrugged. "Have you come to any conclusions?"

"That I'm confused but that I'm not going to think too hard about it."

"I want our third date to be after your third date with Gwendolyn," Moira told me.

"What if I don't want to wait that long? Our second date is next Saturday, and our third might not be until the following weekend."

"Then you'll have to decide whether you are going to grant bonus dates. I want our third official date after your third with Gwendolyn." She paused. "And I won't be turning the heat up any further during any bonus dates."

"I'd like us to cook together."

She laughed. "That's going to be our third date."

"I think I could handle bonus dates," I said.

"They'll be shorter and low key. Dinner and conversation, or maybe I'll take you to lunch."

"I'd like that."

The conversation moved to lighter topics. We continued to play footsie under the table, which would have been more fun with bare feet, but we looked at each other and giggled about it, too.

Finally we had eaten all the food we were going to and finished our pot of tea. Moira paid the bill and took my hand to lead me from the restaurant. We crossed Michigan Avenue heading towards the lake, and Moira led me to a park with a large fountain in the middle. She stood behind me, wrapping me in her arms, and I leaned back against her.

"I'm not playing very hard to get," I told her.

She laughed into my ear. "No, you're not. Are you having a nice time?"

"Yes, immensely so."

"So am I."

We stood like that for a while, looking at the fountain, then moved past it, heading towards the lake. We crossed the Shore Drive and proceeded all the way to the water, turning left to walk along the walkway. We exchanged stories about our respective childhoods.

"Do you swim?" she asked.

"Yes. You?"

"Like a fish. My grandparents retired to a lake in Northern Minnesota, and we spent a lot of our summers there. I loved it up there."

"I was a diver on my high school swim team." I paused. "I wasn't that good, but I enjoyed it. I won a few minor awards, but only when the competing teams didn't field a full team or weren't very good."

She squeezed my hand. "Do you still dive?"

"If I'm at a pool with a good board, yes, I'll do a few dives. I'm rusty, so your average high school kid is better than I am now."

"I can't wait to see," she said.

"Maybe you will," I said, squeezing her hand.

We spent a couple of hours walking along the lake. It was chilly, and I didn't have my sweater, but when Moira realized I was getting cold, we kept us moving. Finally she pulled my hand, and we walked to the train station.

"I've never ridden one of these," I told her.

"Not even the light rail in Minneapolis?"

"No. Or the monorail at the zoo."

She bought our tickets for us and pulled me where we needed to go. We waited for a train, Moira's arms wrapped around me while we waited. We got a few looks, but I ignored them.

"Does that bother you?" she asked me quietly.

"If they can't handle it, that's their problem," I replied.

"That's an amazing statement from the straight girl," she said.

"You forget who my best friend is," I said. "And what a flirt Bonnie is. Sometimes I let her flirt with me in public. I get sick satisfaction from letting her think I'm giving in, then suddenly turning her down flat."

She laughed. "That's mean."

"I've done it so many times, if she continues to fall for it, she's either acting or not as smart as everyone thinks she is."

"Is that what you're doing with me?" Moira asked quietly.

I looked over my shoulder at her. "No."

"Would you lie about it?"

"No. And I wouldn't lie to Bonnie if she asked me. But she never does. You're the first woman I've kissed. Bonnie has tried, and once she managed to get a peck in before I pulled away, but I didn't kiss her back, and it wasn't a real kiss. So it doesn't count."

"Why do you put up with it?"

"It's flattering. I know if I let her, she'd have my clothes off in about three seconds. But every time I've told her to knock it off, she has, immediately. She's a good person, and I like having her in my life. It's just a game to her, and to me as well, I guess." I paused. "Do you think I should ask her to stop?"

"Are you sure it's just a game to her? Maybe she has a crush on you. Maybe that's why she never gets serious with anyone else."

The train took that opportunity to arrive, sparing me the need to answer immediately. We climbed on board. The car was nearly empty, and we took two seats, side-by-side. I leaned against Moira for a moment, then pulled away and looked at her.

"Do you think so?" I asked.

"I don't know her very well. Really, I know of her more than know her."

"She told me she has wanted dates with you. You could have an easy lay."

Moira didn't respond right away, but her expression clouded. Finally she said, "Do you think that's what I want?"

"I'm sorry," I said. "When it comes to dating, I don't know what you want. You haven't been treating me that way."

"Your friend deserves more respect than that as well."

"Those were her words. Not about you, but in the past."

"She can say that about herself," Moira said. "But I don't want to hear you say anything like that again."

I looked at the floor. For some reason, disappointing her made me very sad. "I'm sorry, Moira."

She reached over with her hand and turned me back to face her. "Forgiven. Moving on. Smile."

I smiled, but it was weak.

"You are very beautiful, Pamela," she said. "You are brilliant and funny. And we fit. You are the one I want."

Then I gave her a big smile. She returned it and said, "There. Better."

"I need to talk to her, don't I?"

"Yes. Before our last date."

"Nothing that happens during that conversation is going to change anything about us. If she has a crush, I'll have to let her down."

"I want it resolved, Pamela. Before our third date."

"I'll invite her for dinner this week."

She nodded.

I rotated back towards the front and slid back next to her and laid my head on Moira's shoulder. We sat quietly for a few minutes before I said, "You just showed me a new side to you."

"I know. It was deliberate. Was it a problem?"

"No."

She took my hand and began tracing patterns on my palm. We didn't say anything else until we arrived at our stop. As we pulled into the station, she said, "We're here."

We climbed out of our seats and exited the train. Moira fished through her purse and found her phone. "Hey, Andi," she said. "We're at your station." Pause. "Yes." Pause. "Thank you, Andi." She hung up and turned to me. "Ten minutes."

"Whatever will we do?"

I took both her hands and backed up against a pillar, pulling her after me and setting her hands on my hips before wrapping mine around her neck.

"It's a shame you're so shy," she told me.

"Kiss me. Now."

She laughed and obeyed. I parted slightly for her, and her tongue flicked out a few times to caress my lips. When she didn't accept the full invitation, I tried to invade her mouth, but she didn't allow me to. When she broke the kiss, she looked into my eyes. "Behave now."

Then she took my arm and pulled me down the stairs and out to the sidewalk next to the street. Andi pulled up a couple of minutes later and we climbed into her car.

* * *

Ninety minutes later, Andi dropped us off at a restaurant. I had no idea where we were. "David and I will join you later for dancing," she said. "Do you want to change clothes before flying home?" Then she grinned. "Or maybe we should drop you off at a hotel."

Moira grinned. "Maybe next trip. Yes, changing clothes would be good."

"See you in a few hours," Andi told us as we climbed out of the car.

Moira grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the front door of the restaurant. It was an attractive building of timber and brick, promising an excellent meal. When we got inside, I looked around and saw that everyone was dressed at least as well as we were. The restaurant was partitioned with only a few tables in a particular area, offering quiet and a level of privacy for the diners. There was a reservation waiting for us, and we were led to a quiet table for two in a small room with four tables total. There were two couples sitting together at one of the tables. The other two tables were waiting for their guests to arrive.

The waitress came by immediately, filling water glasses and asking for our drink order. I asked for a glass of red. Moira ordered a diet soda. When I raised an eyebrow she said, "I can't fly for eight hours after drinking."

I turned to the waitress and immediately changed my order to a diet soda. Once she left, Moira said, "You could have had wine."

I just shook my head.

Our drinks came and we looked through the menu. I ordered the salmon. Moira ordered lamb. I planned on stealing from her plate. Then Moira said, "Pamela, tell me three things you've always wanted to do, but haven't done."

"All right," I said. "I mentioned this one to Gwendolyn. Learn to SCUBA dive."

"Really?"

I nodded.

"What else?"

"I don't know if this counts. I've done a little travel, but not very much. I'd like to do more."

"Where?"

"Well, if I learned to SCUBA dive first..."

She laughed. "Australia?"

"Yes. And New Zealand." I paused. "Europe."

"Anywhere in particular in Europe?"

"Paris for the sidewalk cafes and museums. London for theater. Little seaside towns in Italy for the ambiance. Athens for the Parthenon."

"Good list," she said. "Third one?"

"Not counting learning to fly?"

She laughed. "Right. Not counting that."

"And not counting sexual fantasies?"

She laughed again. "Tease. I think those are a separate topic."

I grinned at her. "So you don't want to hear about my wild furry weasel fetish?"

"Weasel?"

"Sure. They're, you know. Furry. And they have those little feet that tickle you when they run across your belly."

"Stop it." She took a drink from her soda.

"I know, I'm sorry. You prefer beavers."

She almost snorted her soda across the table. When she stopped coughing, she glared at me. "That wasn't funny."

"Oh, it was most definitely funny. Tacky, too. Very tacky."

"I'll agree with you on that."

"You realize I'm trying to stall while I think of a third one worth mentioning. I have little ones, but no big ones yet."

"Tell me a little one, then I'll tell you my list."

"All right," I said. "I've never baked a cake from scratch. I was at a friend's wedding a couple of years ago, and they had these little cakes that were to die for. Exceedingly light, and if I can't do at least half that good, I'm not sure I'm interested."

"Maybe that's something we could do together," she said, smiling.

"I'd like that."

"Do you have more?"

"I've had things I've thought about. I've never been camping, or caught a fish, or been skiing. Or driven a sailboat."

She smiled. "Then you need to hear my list." I nodded. "I want to take a back country camping trip in Alaska. It would need to be guided, and I'd want someone along who could enjoy it."

I thought about it. "I'd do that."

She smiled broadly. "I want to get my flight instructor license."

"Is that new since meeting me?"

"No. It's been on my list. But I admit you offer extra incentive."

"How hard would it be for you?"

"I don't think too hard. I would need to get a commercial license first. Basically that involves flying to professional standards, which I already do. I don't know what the CFI would take."

"CFI?"

"Certified Flight Instructor."

"If you got your... CFI?" She nodded. "If you got your CFI, then you could legally teach me?"

She nodded.

"I like that one," I told her.

"I thought you might." She paused. "And I want to get a license to captain a sailboat."

I laughed. "Really?" She nodded. "It takes a license?"

"For some things, like taking paying passengers. For me the license would just indicate a level of professionalism. I could go out and buy a sailboat tomorrow and sail it all I want, but if I were going to sail on the ocean, I'd want a proper education."

"Like, around the world?"

"No. More like around the Virgin Islands."

"Oh." I thought about it. "We could do that together, too." I paused. "Although maybe you wouldn't want me distracting you during class."

"Doing it together would be a blast," she told me.

"Would you take SCUBA lessons with me?"

"I would love to. I love the water. I go snorkling on vacation and I've thought about SCUBA, but I've just never done anything about it."

We grinned at each other for a while. "We really fit," I said.

"Yes, we do. Have you thought of your third?"

"I've had one all along," I said quietly, "but I didn't want to tell you."

She looked sad. "Why not?"

"Because it's kind of needy, and it might sound like I'm sucking up."

"Oh honey. Tell me. Please."

"I want to be in a relationship with someone who knows how to dance properly."

"Define 'properly'."

"Someone who has taken real dance lessons. A lot of them. Someone who can listen to a piece of music and knows what style to dance to the music being played. Someone who knows what ballroom position is. Maybe even someone who knows what close embrace is."

"Close embrace?"

I nodded.

"Perhaps someone who knows what an ocho cortado is?"

I stared at her and said quietly, "Yes."

"Where did you learn to tango?"

"College. There were two girls from Argentina. They taught me a little. I would have really gotten into it, but it was so weird dancing that close to another woman." I paused. "Every time we danced, it felt like they were inviting me to a threesome."

She laughed.

"I'm serious. They were a couple." I paused. "None of my boyfriends would even go swing dancing with me. Not a single one would consider a dance lesson. Their idea of dancing was to wriggle at me. They thought it was a come on or something. I hated it."

Moira smiled.

"You tango?"

She nodded.

"Can you lead?"

She nodded.

"You're taking me dancing tonight?"

She nodded.

"What style?"

"You'll find out," she said.

"Is it tango?"

"No more questions."

"One more. Will I have to lead?"

"Only if you want to. Or if you dance with Andi. Andi doesn't lead. Well, not on the dance floor. In the rest of her life, she is totally in charge." She paused. "Can you lead?"

"Not tango. Swing. Waltz. Blues, although I don't know that many steps to lead. I suppose I could lead a foxtrot, but who wants to foxtrot if you could swing instead?"

She laughed.

"I can't lead Charleston. I can barely follow it."

She smiled. "I like to lead."

"Good."

* * *

We took a cab to the dance hall. While we were in the cab, I tried to get Moira to tell me more about what style of dance we would be doing.

"Stop asking questions," she ordered.

"I can't help it. Curious cat and all that. Give me a hint. You know, so I can be in the right mood."

"If it takes more than one song to get in the right mood, then you suck as a dancer."

"Hey! I don't suck. Well, not while dancing."

"Tease."

"Look who is talking, Ms. Mysterious."

"If you ask any more questions, I won't stroke your arms again tonight." She was stroking my arm as she said it, and the last thing I wanted was for her to stop.

I pouted briefly, then leaned against her and closed my eyes. "You may have your way with me if you keep doing that."

She laughed softly. "Tonight just dancing, then a flight home, and then, maybe, a little make out session on your sofa. If you aren't too tired."

"I shall bestir myself from my slumber."

Several minutes later, the cab pulled up in front of a building. I was completely lost, but I didn't know my way around Chicago, so of course I was lost. Moira paid the driver, and we stepped out of the cab. She took my arm and drew me towards the building.

We had to climb a set of stairs. Halfway up the stairs I could hear the music. I stopped dead and pulled her to face me. I said quietly, "You brought me to a milonga. How did you know I could tango?"

"I didn't. I thought I would have to teach you how to walk. I wanted the close embrace, and I didn't care if you could dance or not. I thought we'd stay for an hour. I think we're going to be getting home very late."

I thought about this. "If you asked to stay overnight-"

"Not this time, Pamela. I don't want to get that forward with you yet, and I couldn't stand to share a hotel room and not get that forward."

"You don't want me?"

"I do. Very much so. But not yet."

I smiled. "I'm not very good."

"I'll teach you."

I grinned. "I meant at tango."

"I'll teach you that, too."

She led the way up the rest of the stairs. I looked around while she paid our admittance to the dance studio.

The dance floor was of moderate size. There were a dozen couples dancing and probably thirty or forty people not dancing. I didn't see any women dancing with other women. Moira finished paying for us and took my hand, leading me into the dance hall.

"Will we be an oddity?"

"No."

She took my pashmina from my shoulders and hung it up for me but kept her light bolero jacket on. "Did you need time to get in the mood?"

"No, Moira."

She smiled and led me to the dance floor. I stepped into her arms and pressed myself against her, my left hand on her shoulder, my right hand clasping her left. I tipped my head slightly so our foreheads were touching. She did a weight shift to make sure we were both on the same foot, paused, then stepped forward. I immediately stepped backward, and we were dancing.

The basics of Argentine tango are simple. You first learn how to stand. Then you learn to walk. It's a slow, sedate, sensual style, and you can have a good dance with nothing but walks. What I like about it is the embrace.

"How much do you know?" Moira asked into my ear.

"It was ten years ago. I am going to disappoint you."

"Hush. All I cared about was holding you. This is already more than I was expecting."

We made it around the room twice with just walks and turns at the corners. At the next corner she led me into a set of back ochos and into the cross. We paused like that.

"Nicely done," she said. "You remember more than you realized, perhaps." Then she stepped forward again.

At the next corner, she asked for a molinete, which to an American's ears would be pronounced mole-ih-neh-tah. I didn't do very well on it, but we stepped out of it, and when we ran into a traffic jam behind me, she asked for another one. I did better.

"There you go," she said.

"It's like a waltz grapevine," I told her. "But walking around you."

I felt her smile against my ear. At the next corner, she did something different, and just while attempting to maintain proper position in front of her, I found us doing a grapevine across the dance floor before she stepped me into the cross. She paused just briefly before walking.

The song ended, and the cortina came on. The cortina is undanceable music, and it is traditional at that point to change partners. I pulled away from her slightly and felt a tear slide down my cheek.

"Oh honey," she said, wiping it away.

"Where have you been all my life?"

"Oh honey," she said again, pulling me into a hug.

The next tanda started. "Are you all right?" she asked into my ear?

"Yes." I adjusted my stance so we were in a proper embrace. She weight shifted, and we were dancing.

She found my limits during the second song in the tando.

"I'm sorry," I told her after the third time of failing to follow something she asked for.

"Hush. Now I know what you know and what you can follow. If we do more of this, we'll take lessons together."

"Really?"

"Really."

After that, she kept to my limits, pushing me slightly, but I learned how to follow her and found myself relaxing more and more in her arms.

At the cortina I opened my eyes and pulled away to look at her.

"All better?" she asked.

I nodded. "Is this real?"

She smiled. "Yes. Do you need me to pinch you so you know it's not a dream?"

"Maybe later."

The next tanda was a milonga, a different style of tango music. "I'm not ready for that," I told her.

"It's okay," she said. "Andi and David just arrived." She pulled me from the dance floor and over to a table along the side. Andi was sitting there with a tall, good-looking man. They stood up as we approached, and Andi introduced me to her husband. He and I shook hands. He and Moira hugged. Then we all sat down together.

Andi smiled. "You tango."

"Barely."

"That was more than barely. Can you lead?"

"I'm sorry, no."

"And you don't milonga?"

I shook my head. Andi turned to David and said, "Ask Moira to dance, David."

Immediately David said to Moira, "Would you like to dance?"

"I would love to, David," she said. They stood up and David led her to the dance floor. I adjusted so I could watch them. Moira settled into David's arms. She winked at me before closing her eyes.

"Are you leading Moira on, Pamela?" Andi asked me sternly.

I looked at her in surprise.

"You are certainly encouraging her attention," she said. "Don't deny it."

I looked away. I didn't want this conversation with Andi when I didn't even understand my own emotions.

"You will answer me, Pamela," she said sternly. "Now."

I looked back at her. "Wow. Does that tone work for you?"

She smiled. "Usually."

"If Moira were a man, I would already be practicing signing my name as Pamela Jenkins."

"But she is not a man."

"No. Clearly I have issues to resolve."

"Does Moira know this?"

"Yes."

"Figure it out soon, before you hurt her too badly."

"I am working on it, Andi." I paused. "My entire life, I've thought of myself as straight. I've dated guys. Then this auction happened. You know about the auction?"

She nodded.

"You know there are two women?"

"Yes. Is that another issue to resolve?"

"Yes. They both are treating me better than any guy ever has."

She smiled. "With guys, you need to take the upper hand and keep them in line. You can't wait for them to treat you properly. You have to make them."

"Like ordering your husband to ask my date to dance?"

"Yes."

"Doesn't he mind?"

"No." She paused. "We have a very good relationship. Many women are very difficult to please. He knows exactly how to please me, and I make sure he is happy to do so."

"How?"

She laughed. "You aren't that naive, are you?"

I laughed. "Maybe I am, but perhaps I just got an education."

I paused, then my mood turned a little mischievous. "Does he, um. Please you?"

She smiled. "In bed?" I nodded. "Yes."

I turned away.

"And your past gentlemen?" she asked. "Have they pleased you?"

"Not really."

"David didn't at first, either. I had to teach him. Now I enforce a strict three-to-one policy."

"Three-to-one?"

"Yes," she said. "Three orgasms for me for every one for him."

I thought about what she'd been saying. "You're very open and blunt with a complete stranger."

"You are Moira's friend, and I think very important to her. She is very important to me. Thus, you are important to me as well."

I turned away and watched David and Moira dance for a minute, then turned back to Andi. "I should resolve all this before I call you for a job."

"No," she said. "I won't pull strings for you because you are important to Moira. I will pull strings if I believe doing so will enhance my reputation for finding good talent. That is regardless of how your relationship progresses with Moira."

"You can really get me a job in my field?"

"No. I can get you an interview and offer a little extra weight on the scales when your resume is balanced against someone else's. If you were to relocate to Chicago, that interview would be with me. But not in Minneapolis." She paused. "Review your material before you call me. I will not be impressed if you appear to know less than you should. Do you still have your textbooks?"

"Yes."

"Then I will assume you have the financial knowledge expected from a recent MBA graduate in finance with an intimate knowledge of mortgage law and at least a passing knowledge of the rest of banking. Are you going to disappoint me?"

"No."

She smiled. "Good."

"You just told me what I needed to do to please you."

"Yes, I did. I want you to succeed, after all. How can you do that if you don't know the expectations?"

The cortina came on, and David led Moira from the dance floor. Moira immediately asked Andi to dance, and David invited me to the floor. When he opened his arms to me, I stepped into an open embrace instead of close. He frowned, but we began dancing. I danced with my eyes open.

Open embrace looks a lot more like normal ballroom style. You maintain some distance between your partner. It facilitates some steps, and David asked for those. I performed them as best I could.

When the song ended, we were next to Andi and Moira. Moira looked at the gap between us and raised her eyebrow.

"I-" I said. "I didn't want you to get jealous."

"Dance properly," she said, smiling. Then the next song began, and they stepped away from us.

I looked up at David. "Whatever you are comfortable with, Pamela."

"Will Andi get mad?"

"Of course not."

I stepped closer and closed my eyes.

Dancing close with David was much different than with Moira. He was taller than she was, too tall for us to touch foreheads. I had to turn my head to the side and laid it against the front of his chest instead of his shoulder. David gave me good dances, but I realized Moira and I fit much better.

The third song of the tanda ended with us immediately behind Moira and Andi. During the cortina, we simply switched partners, with me back in Moira's arms and Andi in David's.

"Did you and Andi have a nice talk?" Moira asked me, once we were dancing.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I told her.

She asked for a molinete, but when we reconnected, she told me, "Don't be coy."

"She asked if I was leading you on."

"Ah."

"And we talked about job interviews."

We danced for a while without talking. I found myself melting more completely into Moira's arms, which probably wasn't proper form, but she felt good.

"I know you're not leading me on," Moira said.

"Good."

We grape vined again, then she said, "Did you enjoy dancing with David?"

"Yes, but you and I fit together much better. I would rather be in your arms than his."

We didn't talk after that, but simply danced. The cortina arrived, and I clutched at her, taking a deep, deep breath before I allowed her to release me.

"If anyone asks you to dance tonight, you will say yes."

"But-"

She put two fingers over my lips, then withdrew them.

"Yes, Moira," I said quietly.

She led us back to the table. Andi and David weren't there. I looked around and saw they were on the dance floor, Andi talking to some man and David with a woman. The music started and they began to dance.

A man, somewhat older than Moira was, approached our table. He asked Moira to dance. She stood up and took his hand, leaving me alone for the first time that night. I sat out that song, but then another man walked over and invited me to dance. I looked at him. He was also older than Moira, but she had been clear. I nodded and stood up.

It felt strange to allow a man I didn't know to wrap his arms around me like that. "I'm new," I told him.

He was gentle with me. I miss-stepped a few times, but by and large he stayed within my limits. At the cortina I thanked him, and he walked me back to the table. Andi was waiting there, and he immediately asked her to dance.

"I would love to, James," she said, standing up.

I looked over at the dance floor and found Moira dancing with some woman. I turned to David. "Should I be jealous?"

"No. It's just a dance."

"Does it bother you to see Andi in another man's arms?"

"She goes home with me." He was smiling. "Do you mind if I ask someone to dance?"

"Of course not," I said. "I'm going to get water for us all."

He got up, and I watched him as he walked to the other side of the floor and asked a woman to dance who was old enough to be my grandmother. She smiled. When they got onto the floor I realized she was an exceedingly good dancer. The two of them were fun to watch.

I stood up to find water for us, but I almost bumped into a woman behind me. "Excuse me."

"I hadn't asked you yet, and already we're dancing," she said. "Would you care to make it more official?"

Moira had told me to say 'yes'. "I would love to. If you can lead."

She smiled and led me to the floor. I stepped into her arms. She was shorter than Moira, but she and I fit better than I had with the men. "I haven't seen you here before," she said once we were dancing.

"I am from Minneapolis," I told her.

"Oh, you're here with Moira?"

"Yes. You know her?"

"She comes to our milongas two or three times a year. I am Kim, by the way. I am one of the local instructors."

"Pamela."

Kim asked for a step I didn't know. I stumbled through it.

"I am sorry," Kim said.

"My fault," I replied.

I got three nice dances with Kim before the cortina. She returned me to the table and thanked me. "I hope we'll see you again."

Moira returned to the table and immediately grabbed me for the next tanda.

"Did you enjoy your dance with Kim?" she asked.

"There is no one here I would rather dance with you than you."

She laughed softly into my ear. "That isn't what I asked."

"Yes, I did."

"She was checking out your ass earlier."

"She was not!"

"Most of the men are, too." Then she asked for a back ocho.

"If you keep making me do that, of course they're going to check it out," I said. "It's a tight, hot ass."

"Yes, it is."

* * *

That pretty much defined the rest of the evening. We danced until eleven. Both Moira and I wanted to dance longer. We found a break, and Moira said to Andi, "I'm sorry, Andi."

"Quite all right," she said. "Time to go?"

She nodded. "Long flight back."

"You could stay overnight," she said. "We have a guest room." She looked at me. "And the sofa isn't bad, if sharing a room isn't in the cards yet."

"Next time, Andi," Moira said.

Andi and David led the way to Andi's car. Moira and I sat in back while Andi drove. I closed my eyes and leaned against Moira, clasping her hand. We drove first to Andi and David's to change clothes, then she drove us back to the airport. David stayed home.

At the airport, Andi handed me her card and offered a quick hug. While we were hugging, she told me, "Figure this out, Pamela."

"I will."

"Call me any evening this week, after you've studied."

"I will."

Then she hugged Moira before getting back in her car and driving off.

The building was locked, but we walked around and to Moira's airplane, still sitting where she had left it. Using a flashlight, she did her preflight while I loaded our luggage in the back.

"Do we need gas?"

"Full tanks. They filled it while we were gone."

"When did you pay them?"

"She swiped my card while I talked to her."

One the preflight was done, Moira climbed in and I followed after her. I closed the door, and this time she showed me how to latch it.

She did all the things she had done in the morning, except she didn't talk to the tower. Instead she just announced on the radio what we were doing.

"You don't have to ask permission?"

"The tower is closed."

"Can we still take off?"

"Of course. The procedures are just a little different."

We taxied to the end of the runway and Moira did her checks, then she said to me, "I was going to let you do the takeoff, but it's night."

"Next time?"

"Next time. Are you disappointed?"

"Second best date ever."

"Only second best?"

"Best date was Tuesday."

She laughed. "I can live with that."

I waited until we had taken off and were clear of the Chicago area before I said, "This might have been the first best."

She looked over and smiled, clasping my hand for a moment.

"Tired?"

"Yes."

"You can sleep if you want. We'll be home in two hours."

"Are you going to nap?"

She laughed. "No."

"I'll keep you company. What did you want to talk about?"

* * *

It was after two in the morning when we pulled up in front of my house. "I want you to come in," I told her.

"I won't stay," she said.

She helped me with my things, and we stepped into the house. We set everything down and I slipped out of my jacket. Moira took hers off, too, and I melted into her arms.

The kiss was exceedingly passionate.

When we pulled apart, I tugged her over to the sofa, then curled up into her with my legs tucked underneath me. She kissed me again, and I turned more to face her, my hand on her furthest shoulder. During the kiss, I let my fingers play with the skin on her neck, then slipped it inside her collar, stroking her shoulder with the back of my finger.

She broke the kiss and looked into my eyes.

I slipped my fingers down to her top button of her blouse and fumbled with it.

"What are you doing?"

"Just two," I said, releasing the second button. I realized I couldn't see any cleavage yet, so I did one more.

"Hey," she complained.

I began caressing the freshly exposed skin.

"Pamela," she said.

"What are we doing on our third date?" I asked her.

"You're coming to my house and we're cooking together." She paused. "We'll discuss recipes ahead of time."

I caressed her skin and quietly asked her, "Do you intend to seduce me?"

"Do you want me to?"

I undid another button. She caught my hand. "Honey," she said. "You're getting me more worked up than I would prefer."

I looked at her in confusion. "This isn't what you want from me? It's what I want."

"It is what I want, but I want it when I can act on it."

I sighed. "Have I answered your question?"

She smiled. "Yes."

I lowered my hand from her neck and snuggled into her. She kissed the top of my head while wrapping her arms around me. We sat quietly for a while, snuggling, before she said, "I need to go, honey."

"I know." I held onto her more tightly.

"You're making this difficult," she said.

"I'm very naughty," I told her.

She growled at me a little. I looked up at her in shock. She was offering a look that could best be described as predatory. "I can't believe you just asked for a spanking."

"Who said anything about a spanking?"

She pulled me into another kiss, and there was no doubting what she wanted. Her tongue explored me deeply, insistently, and I mewled into the kiss.

Finally she broke the kiss, and she was breathing hard.

"I'm sorry, Pamela, but I have to go or I won't go at all."

"You could stay," I told her quietly.

"We're not doing that until after your third date with Gwendolyn."

I sighed and slipped away from her. She stood up and pulled me to my feet. At the door, she grabbed her coat and hugged me, but I didn't get another kiss. She slipped out the door, and I watched as she climbed into her car and drove away.

I closed the door and found my phone. It was way too late to call Sam, but I sent her a text. "Two AM. Call me at ten, if you can."

It took a long time to fall asleep.

Medical Emergency

I woke much earlier than I intended. Groggy, I stepped into the shower and cleared the cobwebs from my brain.

Gwendolyn would call me today, asking me to have a meal with her. I had told her our third date would be me cooking for her, but I decided I was in a mood to cook, even if it was something simple. When I stepped out of the shower, I dried off and brushed my hair, then put a robe on and went to the kitchen. I started making bread dough. Once it was rising, I dried my hair and got dressed.

Sam called right at ten. "How was Chicago?"

"You knew?"

"Yep."

"It was amazing. She took me dancing. Did you tell her?"

"Nope. Not a word."

"Sam, I am still so confused. I tried to get her to seduce me when we got home."

"Only tried?"

"She told me to behave, that we weren't going down that path until I've had my third date with Gwendolyn."

I told her all the details. When I got done, she said, "My advice? Let whatever is going to happen, happen. If it feels okay, don't worry about all the labels. If it doesn't, then put a stop to it. Moira will understand."

"All right. Sam," I said. "Do you know if Bonnie has some sort of crush on me?"

She laughed. "Of course she does."

"You laugh about it?"

"Pamela, she's been trying to seduce you for six years. You didn't think there was a reason for it?"

"I thought she was teasing. Oh sure, if I'd ever given in, she'd have had my clothes off in an instant, but I thought it was mostly just a game she was playing with me."

"She and I haven't talked about it. If you're going to go down that path with Gwendolyn or Moira, though, you probably need to talk to Bonnie yourself."

I sighed. "I'll call her and ask her to come over tomorrow."

We talked for a few more minutes, then my phone rang. It was Gwendolyn. "Gotta go, Sam."

I switched over to Gwendolyn. "Good morning," I said to her.

"Good morning, Pamela. It's Gwendolyn."

We talked for a few minutes before she said, "I'd like to take you to lunch."

"Gwendolyn," I said. "I've changed my mind."

"Oh," she said quietly.

"I have cinnamon rolls rising, and I was hoping you would come over and help me eat them."

I heard her smile over the phone. "Can I bring anything?"

"Just yourself. This will be lunch and a little conversation, then I'll chase you out. Come whenever you like."

"I'll leave shortly," she said. We talked for another minute then hung up.

I gave the house a once-over. Everything was ready for a guest. The rolls were ready to bake whenever I wanted, so I worked on them and slipped them into the oven.

I made a salad and pulled out a salmon filet. I prepared it for cooking on the stove, then sat down and waited for Gwendolyn to arrive.

I was checking email when she rang the bell. I opened it with a smile. She was in jeans and a blouse. I held the door open, then immediately after closing it, stepped into her arms. She wrapped her arms around me, and I lifted my chin for a kiss.

There was a pause, then she kissed me. It was brief. I opened my eyes and looked at her. "What was that?"

"That was restraint," she said.

"Not rejection?"

"No, definitely not rejection."

"All right." I took her hand and pulled her to the kitchen, then made her sit on a stool. "You may have tea, coffee, water, or a diet soda."

"What are you having?"

"Coffee now. I'll switch to water with lunch."

"Perfect. Milk or cream?"

"I have both. I keep them for cooking."

"Cream then, if you can spare it."

I got her settled in and told her the plan. We talked for a while, and then it was time to take the rolls out of the oven. I put on an oven mitt and pulled them out, then while they were still hot, began adding the frosting.

"You really made those yourself?"

"Yes. They aren't at all difficult."

I finished frosting them, then grabbed two small plates and dished a roll up for each of us. I slid hers in front of her then sat down kitty corner from her.

"It's hot," I warned her.

She used her fingers and pulled off a bite, blew on it, and slid it into her mouth. She began to smile and made appreciative noises.

"I've never seen a fresh cinnamon roll before," she said. "Oh my god, that's amazing!"

We ate our rolls, and I reveled in her praise. She asked for a second one, but I kept myself to limit one. We talked for a while before I began to cook the salmon.

Gwendolyn was gracious about the lunch as well. "It's very simple," I told her. "Not at all fancy."

"It's a lovely meal, Pamela," she said. "Thank you for having me over."

"You're welcome."

She got about ten bites into the meal before suddenly she sat straight up, then pushed away from the table and ran into the next room. I heard her answer her phone, and she walked back into the kitchen with a serious expression.

"When?" Pause. "Hell. Get her prepped. Who is on call to assist?" Pause. "No, not him. Who else?" Pause. "Good, get her in. Is the rest of a team available?" Pause. "All right. Twenty-five minutes." She hung up.

She ran over to me, gave me the fastest peck of a kiss I'd ever received, and said, "I'm sorry."

She was out the door without an explanation.

I stared after her.

"Well. That was fun," I said to an empty house.

* * *

I finished my lunch and cleaned up, then called Bonnie.

"Hello, Sexy," she said.

I laughed. "Are you ever going to stop that?"

"Hell no," she said. "What's up?"

"I was wondering if you would like to come over for dinner tomorrow."

"Just me?"

"Yep."

"Should I bring my vibrator?"

I laughed. "Only if you need to self-satisfy to take the edge off before spending time with me. You can use the bathroom."

"Your bedroom would be better. With you watching."

"Maybe next time," I told her. "I'll take pictures."

She laughed. "Six PM?"

"Perfect."

* * *

My phone rang at six. I glanced at it. It was Gwendolyn.

"Hey," I said.

"Pamela?" she said in a small voice. I thought perhaps she was crying.

"Are you okay?"

"May I come over?"

"Where are you?"

"Hospital parking lot." Then it was quiet for a minute, and I thought I heard crying. "May I come over?"

"Of course. Do I need to come get you?"

"No. Twenty minutes." Then she hung up.

I made a fresh pot of tea and had it on the living room coffee table when the bell rang. I let her in. She had clearly been crying, but she had managed to compose herself. I held the door open, and as soon as the door was closed she was sobbing.

"Oh Gwendolyn," I said, pulling her into a hug.

She buried her face in my shoulder. I held onto her and tried to make soothing noises, slowly leading her to the sofa. She sat down and wrapped herself in me, still sobbing.

"Oh Gwendolyn," I said again, patting her back. "What happened?"

"She died," Gwendolyn said into my shoulder.

I didn't say anything right away. "I thought surgeons were immune to this."

She pulled away, her sobs temporarily under control.

"I was stupid," she said. "I let myself get involved. She was only eighteen. My patients are all old, sixty, seventy, eighty years old. They've lived full lives. I give them a few more, but I know they're going to die." She buried her face in my shoulder again and cried longer, telling me in bits and pieces the rest. "I was going to send her home tomorrow or Tuesday. She'd had an accident. I had repaired all the damage anyone found. We missed some."

She slowly stopped crying. "She reminded me of myself. Freshman in college, pre-med. She'd asked me questions about becoming a doctor. We talked for two hours after rounds on Thursday. I never talk to my patients except as patients." She paused, sniffling. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," she said. "I know better."

I pulled her back into a hug. "You're human."

"She was like me," she said. "Smart. Brilliant, really, and so full of hope for the future. And now she's gone. She would have been a brilliant doctor. She wanted to know about becoming a surgeon. She wanted to know if I loved it. So stupid to get emotionally involved. I know patients die."

"But not eighteen-year-olds."

"No, not normally, not once they're on the mend."

Slowly she collected herself and pulled away. "I'm sorry, I had no right to call."

"Of course you did."

"It's just... Anyone else I might call, I'd end up in bed with. I thought perhaps you would feed me."

I smiled. "Pasta?"

She nodded. "I'm going to clean up."

"Do you like pesto?"

She nodded again.

"Take your time. I'll meet you in the kitchen."

We both got off the couch. Gwendolyn headed for the bathroom and I headed for the kitchen. I started heating water and digging through the cupboards when my phone rang. I grabbed it. It was Moira. I answered it.

"Hello, Moira."

"Hello, Pamela. Did I catch you at a good time?"

"Actually, I would love to talk to you, but-"

"You have someone there? A date?"

"Yes. And no. An emotional emergency."

"Right. I just called to hear your voice. Can you call me later? Or otherwise may i call tomorrow?"

"I'll try and yes."

We hung up, and I went back to digging through the cupboards and refrigerator. I had chicken breasts waiting for me along with a jar of pesto sauce. If I were trying to be fancy, I'd make my own, but this would be quick and easy. I found bell peppers and a tomato.

By the time Gwendolyn joined me, she was looking better. I was standing at the stove. She approached, but then stopped.

"Come here," I said. When she stepped up to me, I put my arm around her.

"I didn't want to presume."

"You may always touch me, Gwendolyn. I like being touched, it turns out."

"You didn't know that before?"

"No."

I showed her what I was cooking, then made her stir the vegetables, mostly to give her something to do.

"May I have another cinnamon roll?" she asked. "Or are they all gone?"

I laughed and pointed to the bread box. "You can nuke it if you want to warm it up."

Dinner didn't take long to prepare. "Did you want wine?" I asked her.

"Just a soda, please."

We ate in silence. She finished her meal and looked at me. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Gwendolyn."

"I didn't know who else to call."

"You can always call me."

"Even after?"

"Our three dates? Yes."

She helped me clean up and we moved back to the living room sofa. We sat down, but she said, "I'm not staying."

"You're welcome to stay as long as you need," I told her.

"If I stay, I'm going to start trying to seduce you."

"I can fend for myself," I told her.

"If you turn me down, I'll take it personally. If you don't, I'll wonder if it's out of pity."

"You would take it personally if the straight girl turned you down for sex?"

"Straight girls don't kiss the way you do."

I smiled. She hugged me then stood up, pulling me up after her and leading me to the door. She turned to me and took me into a hug.

"Thank you," she said.

"You are welcome."

She separated and turned to go, but I pulled her back. "Uh uh," I said.

She smiled and stepped closer, then cupped my head in her hands and gave me a long, slow, sweet kiss. Sans tongue. And then she turned away and was gone.

* * *

I called Moira later. We talked for an hour and a half.

I thought about her as I fell asleep. I dreamt about Gwendolyn.

I was so confused.

Bonnie

I went grocery shopping on the way home Monday night. I bought fresh salad fixings, had fun in the meat department, and picked up on some basic supplies that had been running short. I was going to do a basic stir fry over rice. I wanted to be able to focus on the conversation with Bonnie, not be engaged in a complicated meal.

I got home, changed into casual clothes, then headed to the kitchen. I put everything away that needed putting away, washed the vegetables, then began cutting them up.

Bonnie arrived a few minutes before six. She rang the bell and let herself in.

"Kitchen!" I yelled to her.

She appeared in the kitchen and I suppressed my reaction. She was dressed in date clothes. She looked stunning, of course, but she had clearly dressed to be attractive.

"Relax," she said. "I have a late date later." She grinned. "Coffee, tea or me," she said.

I laughed.

"But I could always cancel if you like what you see."

"No, no," I said. "I wouldn't want to be the cause for disappointment for whoever the lucky girl is."

She cocked her head. "Lucky girl?"

"I presume it's a woman and not a guy."

"Well yeah, but- Lucky?"

"Bonnie, you're a real catch. Of course, lucky."

That set her back. "You've never said that to me before."

"Sit," I said. "Dinner will be along shortly."

We made small talk while I cooked. Then she asked, "So, anyone earn her toaster oven yet?"

I laughed. "Not yet."

"Not yet?" I glanced over at her, and she had an eyebrow raised. "Not yet?!" She stared at me. "Oh shit."

"Don't jump to conclusions."

"Jump hell. You just shoved them at me." She started to look angry. "If anyone is going to earn a toaster oven, I saw you first!"

"Bonnie-"

"Shut up," she said, getting up and pacing around the kitchen. "If you're gay curious, I would happily have satisfied your curiosity."

"I'm not gay curious." I paused. "And it would have ruined our friendship."

She stepped up to me and stared into my eyes. "Oh hell, you're in love. Which one?"

I turned away, paying attention to the vegetables I was cooking. She turned me back to face her. "Which one?"

"I'm not in love," I told her. "Yet."

She stepped away, watching me. "Which one?"

I looked at the stove. "Both of them."

She began laughing. "Seriously?"

I looked over and nodded at her. "Please don't hate me."

"I don't hate you. If you were just doing this because you were curious, I'd be upset, but if it's love, well, that's different, isn't it?"

"Will you let me feed you before we talk about this further?"

She shrugged. "All right. But I want all the details." Then she promptly changed the subject to a movie she'd seen over the weekend.

I finished preparing the meal, and we sat down to eat. When we finally had a break, I said, "Bonnie, I need to know something."

"You want to know if I have a crush on you."

"Yes."

"I do, a little, but mostly I'm teasing. I'm not ruining my life waiting for you or anything. I just haven't found the right woman yet, so for now I'm just having fun." She paused. "If you hook up with either Gwendolyn or Moira, as long as it's love and not just lust, I'll be the first to cheer you on." She paused. "But if you're just curious, I'm right here."

I laughed. "I'm not saying this, but if I were. If I were curious, are you serious?"

"Absolutely. I've never earned a toaster oven."

"Please be serious."

She paused, thinking. "You're wondering if I would want to bed you for a one night, never to be repeated fling?"

"Yes."

"No."

"So if I'd given in to your advances?"

"I'd have gotten you naked, totally worked up, then told you, 'just kidding'."

"You wouldn't have."

"After the times you've done it to me! Hell yes, I would."

"I've never let it go that far."

"I have made some pretty stupid decisions a few times after you've let things progress a while before putting on the brakes. And I know you're doing it to tease me. Turnabout would be fair play."

"Really? Bonnie, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she said. "I've had some amazing orgasms with Ms. Vibrator while thinking about you, too."

"You have not!"

"I most certainly have."

"Seriously?"

She nodded.

"You're not waiting for me or anything though?"

"No." She paused. "We make good friends. We would make lousy housemates. And you're right. A fling would ruin our friendship. It might be fun, but I can get fun somewhere else. I can't get a friend like you just by snapping my fingers."

I stared at her. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

She smiled. "You're welcome. Fears alleviated?"

"Yes. I always just thought it was teasing, but then Moira asked me if I were sure."

"How was Chicago?"

"You knew, too?"

"I knew about the airplane. I didn't know it was Chicago until Sam told me Saturday."

"Chicago was fabulous. She dances, Bonnie." I said it wistfully.

"Do I detect a front runner?"

So I told her about Gwendolyn coming over yesterday. "It was nice to be needed."

"That's not a basis for a relationship." She paused. "Although the sex would be fantastic."

We finished our meal then retired to the living room. "What time is your date?"

"Eight," she said. "Can I stick around for another hour?"

"Sure. What would you like to do?"

She wagged her eyebrows at me.

"All right," I said. "Sounds fun." I collapsed backwards against the sofa and closed me eyes. "Let me know when it's over."

She laughed. "Knock it off. How about a game of strip poker?"

"I could teach you to play go."

"Forget it. I don't want to think." She knew where I kept my cards and she dealt a hand of gin. We played for forty-five minutes before she said, "Thank you for dinner, Pamela. I always love your cooking."

We hugged at the doorway, and then she was gone.

I leaned against the door for a minute.

* * *

Later, I was digging through my old MBA textbooks when the phone rang. It was Moira.

"Hello, Moira."

"Busy?"

"Studying for my phone interview."

"I won't keep you," she said. "I just wanted to ask if I could take you to lunch tomorrow."

"I go from noon until one."

"Excellent," she said. "I'll pick you up."

"Do you have a minute, Moira?"

"Sure."

"Bonnie came to dinner."

"How did it go?"

"She was mad at first. She asked if anyone had won a toaster oven yet."

"And you said 'no'."

"I said, 'not yet'."

Moira was quiet for a while. "How upset was she?"

"She told me if I were curious, she was right here. Then she looked at me and said, 'oh hell, you're in love'. After that, she was fine. She said, yes, small crush, but no, not saving herself for me."

"Are you?"

"Saving myself for her?"

"In love, silly."

"I'm not sure I'm ready to answer that."

She laughed. "I'll take that as far better than 'no'."

"Thank you for not pushing."

There was an awkward pause before she said, "Well. Before this gets any weirder, I'm going to let you go. I'll be there at noon."

"I am looking forward to it."

* * *

Moira arrived at the bank a few minutes early. My last appointment also ended early, so I didn't have to leave her waiting. She was holding a bouquet of flowers. I walked straight to her and gave her a hug.

"No kiss?" she asked quietly.

"Not at the bank."

"These are for you," she said. "I thought the bunch from last week were due for a refresh."

"Moira, they're lovely."

"So, you can show me your office and we can swap them out."

"Um."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Am I going to see flowers from someone else in there?"

I looked away. She laughed. "Are you forgetting whose idea all this was? Lead the way, Pamela."

So I led the way to my office. I had a real office, not a cube, and I was proud of it. The now tired bunch that Moira had given me last Wednesday were on the book case, and Gwendolyn's were on my desk. She looked between them. "Mine got bumped?"

"Yesterday." I looked away.

"Honey," she said. "It's okay. The newest ones belong where you can see them. And guess whose are newest now."

I laughed. "Thank you."

She took the vase with the her old flowers in it and began discarding the most tired of the flowers, keeping the two roses, which were doing very well, and some of the greens. She made a new arrangement after cutting the tails of the fresh flowers. Then she made room on my desk for her arrangement along with Gwendolyn's.

"There," she said. "Shall we?"

"In a minute," I said. I walked to the door and closed it, then turned to her and closed my eyes.

She laughed, then walked up to me and gave me an earth shaking kiss. When she released me, I told her, "The no kissing policy isn't just between women. I never let guys kiss me out there, either. It's a bank."

"Right. Ready to go?"

* * *

Lunch was lovely. We kissed briefly in the car when she dropped me off.

"Again this week?" she asked.

"Thursday or Friday would be good," I told her.

"I'll call you."

And then she was gone.

* * *

I talked to Gwendolyn that night. We didn't have much to say to each other at first. She told me about her day, and I understood some of it. But then she thanked me for my help. "I really needed someone."

We talked for a few minutes more before hanging up.

I called Andi Wednesday evening.

"Andi, it's Pamela Henderson."

"Hello, Pamela. How was your flight home?"

"Late, but smooth. Thank you so much for hosting us."

"You're welcome." She paused. "Ready to be grilled?"

We talked for an hour. She started by getting an overall feel for my knowledge. Then she told me about the types of jobs that might be available. After that, she drilled down deeply.

I felt wrung out when she was done, and I also felt like I had failed miserably. She had asked a lot of questions for which my answers felt inadequate.

There was a pause.

"I'm sorry for wasting your time," I told her quietly.

"Don't jump to conclusions," she said. "I was exploring the range of your knowledge, which involves finding out what you don't know as much as what you do know. Half my best employees couldn't have answers some of those questions. Let me think for a minute, I'm reading through my notes." I sat quietly holding the phone until she said. "All right. Do you want to pursue this?"

"You'd recommend me?"

"Yes."

I started to grin. "Really?"

"Really. Do you want to pursue this?"

"Absolutely."

"All right. I need to send you an email. What is your email address at home?" I gave it to her. "All right. I am sending you links to several books. They are all available at Amazon. Order them either as electronic copies or overnight delivery. Read them. Call me when you've read them and understood as much as you can, and expect a second exam like the one we just did. We'll go from there. I'll expect to hear from you next week sometime."

"Thank you so much, Andi."

"If you don't get my email in the next hour, call back. It will take me a few minutes to assemble."

I got her email, sent a reply, and then ordered the books. Two were available electronically, so I ordered them to read on my computer. The other two I ordered with standard shipping; it would take me a few days to read the first two. Then I started reading.

Moira called a little later.

"Busy?"

I told her about my conversation with Andi.

"That's fabulous!" she said. "I won't keep you. Lunch Friday?"

"I'd love to."

"See you at noon."

North Shore

Friday I went grocery shopping for Saturday. I picked up picnic supplies. When I got home, I called Gwendolyn but got her voice mail. "It's Pamela. I need your address so I can pick you up in the morning. Call me."

Then I started studying. I'd gotten through one of the books and was halfway through the second one. They were full of dense material, and I would need additional readings before I called Andi. I sent her an email telling her that.

Gwendolyn called an hour later. "I thought I'd pick you up."

"Do you mind if I drive?"

"No, but-"

"I want to see your house."

She sighed. "You won't like it."

"Please."

She gave me her address. "I'll be there early, like seven or so. Is that okay?"

"I get up early. Seven is great. What should I wear?"

"Dress in layers. We'll be in the car a lot, but then we'll be outside. I'm bringing a picnic."

We chatted for a few minutes for we signed off.

I got a response from Andi. "Read each once, then use your judgment, but I want a call from you no later than Wednesday of next week. Not Thursday. Wednesday."

I replied I understood.

* * *

Saturday was a beautiful day. It was early May and lovely. The north shore area would be chilly, but we would have a nice time. I loaded the car, triple checked everything, then got in the car and drove to Gwendolyn's house.

Her place was stunning. The house was huge, and the yard was exceedingly huge. I rang the bell, and after a brief pause, she opened the door.

"Good morning," I said cheerfully.

We exchanged hugs and kisses, then I asked for a tour.

Her house was stunningly huge. And, as she had warned me to expect, sterile. The kitchen was amazing. I saw it and said, "Oh, the cooking I could do in this kitchen!"

"I never use it," she said quietly.

I oohed and aahed over other parts of the house, but in the end, she seemed embarrassed. We finished the tour and she said, "Pamela, it's a house. Spend enough money, you can buy a big house. That doesn't make it a home. Your house might be small, but it's a home. You've made a home."

"I can help you," I told her.

She smiled. "I would like that." She kissed me once more, then she locked up behind us.

We talked about nothing important until I had gotten us out of the cities. Once we were on our way to Duluth, I told her, "Was there anything in particular you wanted to talk about?"

"No, not really," she said.

"Well then," I told her. "I want to understand your job better. How about this? You'll teach me everything you can between here and Duluth. After that, we'll make switch to something more resembling a date conversation."

"Seriously?" she asked.

"Yes. Imagine I were to ask you how your day had been, and you want to tell me. How much can you teach me in two hours that I might understand the significance of what you tell me?"

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"It's going to be dry."

"I don't care. Can you start with an overview first?"

"Yes." She paused, and her tone changed, and I found myself enrolled in mini medical school.

She started with the basics. I knew a lot of it, but not all by far. Then she quizzed my understanding. She finished that and I glanced over at her.

"You're a good teacher."

She beamed at that.

"This is fun. Keep going."

"It gets dryer."

"That's okay."

She explained the cardio vascular system, and the limits on where she operated. In short, everything below the neck excluding the immediate area of the heart. Then she quizzed me.

"Good," she said.

"Keep this up until we come over the rise into Duluth."

"Give me a ten minute warning then," she said. She paused for a minute, then she gave me the basics of what surgery was like. That part was simple. Then it started to get harder, as she explained what vascular surgery was like, and that's when the fancy Latin terms started to creep in. She started to lose me.

"This part sounds important," I told her.

"It is. Lost?"

"A little. Start over?"

She went over the structure of an artery. I always thought they were like little rubber tubes, kind of like how they are drawn in books, but they aren't. Then she quizzed me until I got it right. After that, she talked about a few instruments she uses, things I already understood, then she looked over and started quizzing me on the arteries again.

I struggled, but she helped me a little, and I had largely retained it. She changed the quizzes. Instead of asking me to remember the terms, she used the terms and asked me what they were. That made a huge difference.

"It makes more sense this way," she said. "If I use a term, and you know what it means, that's good enough. You don't have to dredge them up yourself."

After that, she went through the procedures she is most likely to do and why. This involved more anatomy, and I had a hard time remembering where the various vessels were.

"I'm sorry," I told her. "Are you getting impatient?"

"No, Pamela. I'm surprised you care."

"Of course I care. I want to understand as best I can without going to medical school myself."

She smiled and went through it again, this time in smaller pieces. I started to get it. "I won't ask you to remember all the smaller vessels," she said. "If I ever use their names with you, I'll remind you where they are."

By the time we crested the ridge over Duluth, I had absorbed as much as I was going to. Gwendolyn was smiling, but my head hurt.

"Oohhh," she said as we climbed over the ridge. All of Duluth lay below us, and we had our first look of Lake Superior in the distance. "Wow."

"I know," I said. "One of the best views in the state." I started playing tour guide. "We'll go to Canal Park for a little while," I said. "Maybe the lift bridge will go up while we're there."

"A draw bridge?"

"Sort of." I explained the difference.

We worked our way through Duluth, then pulled off the freeway, and I found a place to park. "Grab your jacket," I told her, getting out.

We joined together and I grabbed her arm.

She loved the park. When we got out to the end of the lighthouse pier, she pressed me against the railing. "Will you let me kiss you in public?"

"Yes."

So she did. I was breathless when we were done. No one paid any attention to us.

"This is beautiful, Pamela," she said, looking out over the lake. It was a beautiful, sunny day. We had gotten very lucky. It was chilly, and down near the water was windy, but it was lovely. We were freshly out of winter, and born and bred in Minnesota, so a little cold wind didn't bother either of us."

We didn't stay at Canal Park very long. I wanted to get her to Gooseberry Falls, and depending on the timing, Split Rock Lighthouse. Then we would see.

We walked back to the car, hand in hand. At the car, she kissed me again. She tasted wonderful, and the kiss was full of promises.

My heart beat faster.

"Are you hungry?"

"A little."

"There is a cooler on the back seat," I said. "I made sandwiches, and there is fruit and soda."

Before getting into the car, we raided the cooler, setting it up front, then we both got in and I got us on the road. She gave me a half a sandwich and ate the other half herself. Then she had great fun popping grapes and strawberry slices into my mouth. I made a game of trying to kiss her fingers. She started to linger so that I could kiss them.

"It's beautiful, Pamela," Gwendolyn said again.

When we drove past the Glensheen mansion, I told her the story of Congdon murder back in the 1970s, as best I knew it.

We got a few more views of Lake Superior, then we were on the road to Two Harbors. I told her about the deer encounters you can get during the evening hours. We finally arrived at Gooseberry Falls State park and climbed out the car.

As soon as we got to the falls themselves, she was stunned. She looked at the falls, then looked at me, then at the falls. I stepped up to her and slipped under her arm.

"This is why we drove all the way up here?"

"Highlight of the trip, although the lighthouse is cool, too."

"It's amazing."

We spent an hour walking around. I got a lot of kisses, every one of them amazing. At one point we sat down on the rocks, just looking at the water falling over the upper falls. She had her back against a scraggly pine tree, and I was leaning against her with her arms around me.

"Honey," she said. "I've never done anything like this. No one else would have taken me up here, and it never would have occurred to me."

"I used to come up with my family," I told her. "It's very peaceful. I can't afford to stay in the resorts anymore, so I make do with day trips like today."

We sat like that for a while. I got my ear nuzzled a lot. It tickled, but I liked it. I looked over my shoulder at her. "It's so different being with you than with a guy."

"How so?"

"You're gentler. Softer. Less, I don't know. Driven by testosterone."

She laughed at that. "Estrogen isn't necessarily better. Men's emotions are more likely to be logical."

"Guys are so clueless."

"And you are finding I am not?"

I looked back at her again. "You knew how to treat me."

We stayed until we started to get cold. I took her to the nature center on the way to the car. She bought some postcards and stamps, wrote them in front of me, and mailed them. Then I found a little stuffed animal of a moose and bought it then gave it to her.

She offered a puzzled expression.

"The first new item for your hours," I told her. "It goes in your living room near the fireplace. Whenever you see it, you'll think of me and this trip."

"Maybe I want it in my bedroom," she said, grinning.

"No, because if you're there with someone else, you should think of her, not me. And if you're there with me, you don't need a moose to remind you."

"I never would have thought of this," she said, hugging the moose.

"This is why your designer couldn't give you a proper design. She couldn't discover your story and fill your house with things that have meaning to you. This moose will have meaning, and whenever anyone asks you about it, you have a story to tell."

She took my arm and led me back to my car. I held her door for her, and she smiled. "That's my trick."

She kept the moose on her lap as we drove out of the parking lot. I drove us to the overlook where virtually every picture of Split Rock Lighthouse is ever taken. There was one other car there.

"I've never seen a real lighthouse," she said.

"There was one at Canal Park at the end of the pier."

"I suppose, but it's not the same, is it?"

We held hands while we looked at the lighthouse. "Can we actually drive up to it?"

"Yes. There is a tour."

We drove into the park. I had a state parks sticker on my car, so the only fee was for the tour itself. We held hands the entire time, and watching Gwendolyn's expression was fun. She had completely turned off her surgeon side and was there to enjoy the day. I loved watching it.

Once we finished the tour, I told her it was time for the picnic. We collected the things from the car, and we set up in the grass right outside the lighthouse, sitting where we could look out over Lake Superior.

We ate slowly without talking much.

"This is lovely, Pamela," she told me after a while.

"I made plans for the day," I said. "But I didn't really plan anything into the evening."

"We can go to my place," she said.

"Are you going to seduce me?"

She glanced at me. "Would that be a problem?"

"Not necessarily, but then won't our third date be anti-climactic?"

"I might be willing to risk that," she said.

"I don't want to be that easy for you," I told her. "I want you to have to work for it."

She laughed. "That wasn't 'no'."

I didn't respond to that.

"We could go dancing again." She didn't sound thrilled by the idea.

"We'll be tired. Going to your house would be nice if you promise you won't try to remove a single stitch of my clothing."

"Not even your jacket?"

"Or I can drop you off when we get back to the cities."

"I will behave," she promised.

We stayed there, lying down on the blanket side by side, staring out at the lake, lightly touching, but we both started to get cold once the sun began to settle behind the hills.

"Time to go," I told her.

We packed up and were soon on our way.

It was work, but I spent the drive back to work pulling stories about her. I got her to tell me about some of her coworkers and some of her patients. I stayed away from stories about growing up. I asked her about her favorite fantasies.

"You aren't ready for those," she told me with a leer.

"Try me."

"All right." She paused. "I've always wanted to do it in a swimming pool."

"A swimming pool, hmm?" I thought about it for a moment. "I thought you'd come up with something racier."

"I didn't want to scare you."

"Would I be scared?"

"Maybe." She paused. "I don't like being vulnerable, so I usually over compensate."

She didn't add to it. "You're telling me something."

"I like to be the dominant one in the relationship, especially when the clothes start to come off."

"How dominant?"

"Very."

"So far I must trouble the crap out of you."

She laughed. "You let me lead when I lead. But yes, this is very new for me. Even letting you drive is difficult for me."

"So, if I were to let you seduce me, what would it be like?"

"Very gentle. The first time."

"Not so gentle later?"

"I'm not abusive. Nothing like that."

I thought about it for a while. "What's your longest steady relationship?"

"A long weekend."

"I thought you and that woman in Japan-"

"On again, off again, a night or a weekend at a time."

"You know you're being evasive," I accused.

"I don't want you to think I'm some sort of kinky dominatrix."

"Are you?"

She didn't answer.

"Really?"

"No. Yes. Depends on your definition. Most of my sex is pretty vanilla."

"Vanilla?"

"Lesbian normal."

"And some of the sex?"

"I've been known to be very demanding."

I sighed. "Evasive."

"I like to tie her up. Sometimes."

"With what?"

"Rope. I'm a surgeon. We're very good with knots."

I thought about her tying me up, my being unable to move, completely at her mercy.

"What would you do to me once I was helpless?"

"I'd start touching you. Teasing you. Driving you crazy with desire."

"Crazy, hmm?"

"I am very good at that. I know exactly how to touch you."

I smiled. "Then what?"

"You'd be squirming and begging."

"Begging to be untied? Begging you to stop?"

"Begging me for an orgasm."

"Are you sure?"

"My fantasy. In my fantasy, you beg."

I laughed. "All right. So once I beg, you give me an orgasm?"

"Absolutely not. I stop."

"What?!"

"And then I would tell you that you can have an orgasm only after you agree to my demands."

"Oh, now, that's naughty."

"Scared?"

"Nope. What would your demands be?"

"You would agree to be my sex slave."

"Oh, really?" I asked her.

"Yes."

"Would I agree?"

"I can be very convincing."

"Ever done this before?"

"Not with those terms, but yes. Every woman who I have tied up has begged and agreed to my demands."

"What were those demands?"

"One of them was a writer. I made that one agree to use my first name for one of her main characters in an upcoming novel."

I laughed. "Good one. Did she do it?"

"Yes."

"So, would I agree? Really, not just in your fantasy?"

"If we were to the point you let me tie you up, yes."

"Cocky."

"Confident."

"And how long would I be your slave?"

"The first time? A week."

"What would my duties be?"

"I have no idea." We laughed together. "I'd think of something."

We drove quietly for a few minutes. "What if I let you tie me up, but asked you not to carry it that far?"

"I can tease you, but not a demand that extreme?"

"Yes."

"I might make you go without panties for a week."

"Oh dear."

"Or be my servant for a dinner party."

"No."

"Hmm?"

"Whatever we do is between us and no one else. Ever."

"That's fair." She paused. "I might forbid you wearing jeans or slacks for a week. Dresses and skirts only."

"You prefer when I appear more feminine?"

"Yes. The gown you wore was exceedingly striking."

"Thank you."

I kept her talking about this for a while. Once she loosened up, she had fun, although the suggestions she threw out grew increasingly silly. I fueled them as much as I could. Listening to her, I found myself becoming stimulated. I began to squirm a little.

Suddenly she stopped talking. "You like my fantasies."

She made it a statement, not a question. "I plead the fifth."

"You were squirming."

"No I wasn't. Just stiff from driving."

"I can drive."

I paused. "All right, I was squirming."

She laughed.

"Sure, laugh it up," I said. "I will rest happy knowing you're going to be thinking about all of those things you just described, unable to act on any of it. Straight girl and all that."

"Oh you bitch," she said, but she was laughing. "Your turn. Favorite fantasy."

"I don't have any."

"Liar."

"I don't." I glanced at her. "Okay, I have one. I'd like to know what the big deal is."

She didn't say anything. I glanced over twice more and she was staring at me.

"You're serious?"

"Yep."

"You've never had an orgasm?"

"Sure," I said. "Usually on my own."

"Not with guys."

"A few. They weren't any big deal."

"But you were squirming a few minutes ago."

"Yes. Don't ask me to explain it."

So she asked about past boyfriends. I answered her questions for a while before turning it around again.

That conversation got us to Duluth. We stopped for gas and to stretch our legs.

"Would you like me to drive?" she asked.

"Would you mind?"

"Not at all. You've drive all day, and you're fatigued."

"You can tell?"

"You're all tense." She stepped up to me and rubbed her hands across my shoulders and back. "Through here."

"Oh. I am."

We finished filling up, then I raided the cooler for us before climbing into the passenger side, giving Gwendolyn my keys. I had to navigate until we were on the interstate, but then I could relax. She knew the way from there.

I fed her and spent the rest of the trip asking or answering silly questions. It was light hearted and fun. About halfway home from Duluth, she stopped me. "You know, I can't remember the last time I had a conversation this long that wasn't about medicine."

"I know this is fluffier than you're used to."

"That's what I wanted. What I needed," she said. "You're making me feel human, Pamela."

As we approached the cities I told her, "I don't have anything for dinner planned."

"We can have something delivered. I have all the numbers."

I laughed. "Next time I am cooking through." I paused. "Are you going to get pulled away?"

"It doesn't happen that often," she said. "But it's always a risk. When?"

"Friday?"

"I'll make sure I'm not on call. Then I'll only get calls for my own patients, but no emergencies to help anyone else."

"What would have happened if something had happened today?"

"One of my colleagues would have taken care of it, but by and large, we each try to service our own patients."

"What about vacations?"

"Those are a chore to orchestrate. I don't like going on vacation when I have recovering patients, so I try to avoid it." She paused. "I've only taken two vacations since becoming a surgeon."

"What good is all that money if you don't spend it?"

She looked over at me with a sad expression. "I don't know," she said. "That's what I'm starting to explore." Then she grinned. "Spending it on new rope might be fun."

I laughed.

She drove us straight to her place and led the way into her house. As soon as we were inside, I melted into her arms for a moment, then she said, "I'll order dinner. And you will do whatever I tell you to do."

"I will, hmm?"

"Yes."

"We'll see."

She smiled. "Pizza, Chinese, Thai, or a burger?"

"Chinese or Thai."

"Thai it is." She made a call and ordered for both of us. I let her. Everything sounded good.

She led me to her living room. "Wait here and take off your jacket." She paused. "In fact, get as naked as you're comfortable."

"Hey."

"Backrub. How much you are wearing is entirely up to you."

She disappeared into the back of the house. I kicked off my shoes and took off my jacket, then I closed the blinds. When she got back, she was pulling a long cushion that looked like it came from the recliner on her deck. She set it down on the floor.

"Normally I would do this on the bed, but I think you would freak." She sized me up and down. "I promise I'm not trying to seduce you. When the food comes, you will put on anything you have taken off."

"Turn around," I told her.

"I'm a doctor."

"Turn around."

She grinned but turned around. I slipped off my blouse and bra, then lay down on the cushion. "You can turn around."

She knelt down next to me and moved my hair out of the way. She applied her hands to my back, and it was divine.

"You are very tense," she said. "Is this fear of me?"

"No. Just the drive." I paused. "And a little stress. I'm applying for a job, and I've been studying for it."

"In finance?"

"At an investment bank. It's in my field."

"Congratulations, Pamela!" she said. "One of your resumes finally got through?"

"No." I paused. "Um."

"Oh. A friend of Moira's."

"Yes."

"That woman has more contacts than you can shake a stick at. I wondered whether she'd hook you up." Then she changed the subject. "I want you to think about someplace very calming."

"Gooseberry."

"Good choice. Think of the way the water rolls over the rocks." She kept talking to me softly, describing the serenity of Gooseberry Falls exceedingly well. She worked my entire back, and she was amazingly good. She was firm, but never pinched, not once. Soon I found myself a little puddle of goo on her floor.

"Honey," she said. "I'm going to get a tiny bit more intimate with you. I promise I'm not making a pass at you."

"Ok."

She slid her fingers under the waistband of my jeans and began to massage the large muscles of my lower back and the top of my buttocks. It felt amazing.

Then the doorbell rang.

"Sorry," she said.

"It's okay."

She got up and headed for the front door. I sat up and put my clothes back on. I felt a lot better. When she got back carrying a large sack of food, I smiled at her. "That was amazing. Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said.

"Does having an understanding of physiology help?"

"Yes, but having practice is more help. Come to the kitchen with me."

I climbed slowly from the floor and followed her. She set the food on the counter and pulled everything out. I dug through her cupboards and found plates, glasses and silverware.

"I don't have any tea, but the water is filtered or there is soda in the refrigerator."

I got sodas for both of us. Her refrigerator had no real food, just leftovers containers, a few condiments, and the cans of soda. "We are so different," I said.

"I know. Opposites attract?"

I laughed.

"What did you want to do this evening?"

"I hadn't planned a thing. I am sorry."

"Go? Or a movie?"

"Oh, go. Then maybe a movie."

"Winner picks the movie. Loser agrees to watch it."

I laughed. "Do you know your rank?"

"Yes. Do you?"

I shrugged.

"You played in college just with this one boy?"

I nodded.

"Was he good?

I shrugged.

"I will give you nine stones." I stared at her. She was offering a large handicap. She must be very good. "It's a small wager, and you're picking from my movie collection. If you win, I won't mind."

The handicap system in go is one of the best things about it. If you know your rank, and someone else knows her rank, you automatically know a proper handicap so that, if you play several games, you should each win half the games. A strong player can play with a weaker player and still have an exciting game.

"I will get my board," she said. "If you can bring everything to the dining room table."

She disappeared upstairs while I carried everything to the next room then proceeded to serve us both our dishes. She got back carrying an expensive go board and two bowls of stones. When she opened them, I saw they were made from real slate and sea shell. They were expensive stones. The ones I had played with had been glass. The sets you might find at the mall are plastic. Yuck.

She slid the bowl of black stones to me then sat down on her side of the table and picked up her chopsticks. I ate a little of my food, then put nine stones on the board.

Go is played on a wooden board arranged in a nineteen by nineteen grid. The stones are places at the intersections of the grid, not in the squares. The goal is to capture territory by surrounding it with your own stones. There are rules for capturing your opponent's stones, but other than being captured, once a stone is played, it isn't moved.

As soon as my nine stones were in their proper places on the board, Gwendolyn reached over and placed a white stone on the board. I made my play, and Gwendolyn frowned. "Are you good enough to play that properly?"

I stared at her.

"Honey, I play to win. Always. I won't hold back, but I don't want you to lose so badly you won't play with me in the future."

"I'll play my best, Gwendolyn, but I won't get upset. I might ask you to tell me what I did wrong."

"All right," she said. "But this isn't a teaching game. I'm not going to explain any mistakes while we're playing."

"Fair enough." I smiled.

She made her move and I ate some of my dinner.

After three moves each, she played near the opposite corner. I looked at our first exchange, and I was feeling far less confident about my position than when we'd started. I played differently, a move I knew was more conservative.

She nodded, and we exchanged play for a few turns before she played in another corner.

After that, play moved around the board a lot. I spent the entire time responding to Gwendolyn's plays, eating slowly while we played. It took me a while to be sure, but I was badly outclassed. I managed to avoid any egregiously bad plays, but still, it was clear I was going to have very little territory by the time the game was over.

I caught her watching me at one point, perhaps judging whether I was upset. I smiled at her and asked her what color ropes she had.

She stared at me then began laughing. "Little vixen. I am not that easily distracted."

"I didn't think you were," I told her. "But you were worried I was upset. I don't have a clue how this happened, and that is frustrating, but I'll be ready to play again. For very, very small wagers."

I could have asked for a larger handicap, but nine stones is really the most you would normally play, or at least that's what my old boyfriend had told me.

I examined the board and made my next play.

In the end, Gwendolyn held most of the free territory on the board, and she had captured enough of my stones that I had a negative score. I looked at her and said, "I guess I am your prisoner."

"Vixen."

I grinned.

We cleaned up from dinner, then I caught her in the kitchen and kissed her. "I don't mind being your prisoner. I kind of like it, in fact."

She stepped away from me at that point and turned away.

"I'm sorry," I said. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No. You're pushing my buttons. I promised I wouldn't try to seduce you."

"Good buttons?"

"Yes."

"Is it going to be difficult to cuddle in front of a movie? Should I go?"

She turned around. "Oh no," she said. "You're staying. You lost the wager. You don't get out of it that easily."

I laughed. "I wasn't trying to get out of anything."

We finished cleaning up then she took me into the basement. She had a home theater set up there with a fireplace on the side and an exceedingly comfortable-looking sofa.

"Oh, this is nice," I said.

She set the lights to a moderate level then told me to sit on the couch, pointing where she wanted me. Then she went to a cabinet and looked through the movies. She turned to look at me.

"What?"

"I am trying to decide your sense of humor."

"I am feeling playful," I told her.

She smiled and immediately selected a movie, sliding it into the player. She joined me on the sofa then pulled me into the crook of her arm. We both squirmed around a little getting comfortable.

I was a little surprised by the movie. The opening sequence seemed, I don't know. Cheesy. I decided it must be an indie. I'd never heard of it.

Three minutes into it, I realized why I hadn't heard of it. She had picked some lesbian porn. I started laughing.

"Are you serious?" I asked. "Porn? You put on porn?"

"Yes. And you have to watch it with me. Closing your eyes would be cheating."

"I can talk over the dialogue."

"What dialogue?"

"I don't know." I put on a fake voice. "Oh baby, oh baby. Yes. There. Oh baby, make me come. Oh right there." I paused. "How am I doing?"

"Don't quit your day job. Hush now, we're coming to the good part."

"Key word is coming?"

"Hush. I love this part."

"I can't believe you own porn."

"Bonnie gave this to me for my birthday last year."

I laughed. "That makes sense. Did you two make out in front of it?"

"Something like that. Hush now. You're ruining it."

"Oh pah-lease," I said. "I can already tell you what is going to happen. That girl," I said, pointing. "The blonde. She's going to get it on with that other one."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Wager?" Gwendolyn paused the movie.

"Not fair. You know the movie."

"So you admit you don't know what's going to happen, and thus will sit quietly and watch it with me. It's okay if you touch yourself."

"Brat."

"Accept the wager or agree to be quiet."

"What's the wager?"

"If the blonde doesn't do it with the brunette as you predicted, you will unbutton two buttons on your blouse."

"And if she does?"

"What do you want?"

"I get to heckle."

"Deal. But you have to be quiet and watch for the next few minutes." Gwendolyn hit play.

I settled into her and watched the movie. I lost the wager. A redhead entered the scene, and the blonde and brunette ended up tying the redhead up and taking turns with her.

"Two buttons please," Gwendolyn said. "And no heckling."

I slowly unbuttoned two buttons of my blouse.

A few minutes later I found myself cocking my head. "Pause it." Gwendolyn did, and I pointed at the screen. "Would that really work?"

"Oh yes," she said. "Definitely. Want to see?"

"Maybe not tonight."

Gwendolyn chuckled and hit play.

Twice more I asked questions. On the second one, Gwendolyn said, "It seems improbable, doesn't it?"

Eventually the movie ended. The entire movie had been one bondage scene after another. For a few of them, I imagined doing them with Gwendolyn, and I squirmed a little. Gwendolyn had the good grace not to say anything.

"Did you take notes?" I asked when the credits began to roll.

"Yes, I did," she said, chuckling.

"I can't believe you made me watch a porn movie."

"Did you like it?"

"I thought about letting you do some of those things to me."

"And?"

"I squirmed."

She smiled.

Then I snuggled into her, and we sat there quietly for a while. "Gwendolyn?"

"Yes?"

"When is the last time you had a woman over who didn't go to bed with you?"

She thought about it. "Not counting fights?"

"Yes."

"College, I think."

I looked up at her. "I'm going to break your streak."

"I know."

"Are you going to think about me after I leave?"

"I have an appointment with my vibrator."

I laughed.

"I'm going to think about you though." She cocked her head at the screen. "And I think scene number four."

"The one with the girl with the blue hair?"

"Yep."

"I don't think she's quite as innocent as she was pretending."

Gwendolyn laughed. "I think you might be right. You, on the other hand, would be just that innocent."

I paused for a bit before asking, "Am I giving what you wanted when you bid on me?"

"I didn't know what I wanted," she admitted. "I am very happy with our time together."

"Good. I wouldn't want to cheat you."

"Is that why you're acting flirtatious? So I won't feel cheated?"

"No. I am having a very nice time. No acting."

"Will you call me this week?"

"Absolutely. And I'll see you on Friday."

I smiled up at her. "I don't own a go board."

"I'll bring mine. Just in case you're in the mood for another wager."

And then I found myself rolling over and straddling her. I surprised her by it, and before she could react, I lowered my lips to hers.

My kiss was insistent, demanding. I slipped my tongue into her mouth and teased her mouth before she pushed me back and invaded my mouth. I felt her hands move to my waist, then suddenly she was rolling us over, and I found myself underneath her. She stared down at me for a moment, then was kissing me again.

I closed my eyes and reached for her, but she captured my wrists and forced them over my head, holding them with one hand. I let her. She shifted, then one hand was cupping my breast. My eyes sprang open and I pulled back from her a little.

"Sorry," she said. "Too much?" she immediately released my hands and sat up, pulling her hands to herself.

"Wait," I told her. "No, just surprised."

I reached for her and pulled her back to me. She captured my wrists, and I didn't struggle, but simply closed my eyes.

I didn't stop her when she unbuttoned my blouse, still holding my hands above my head. She continued to kiss me while massaging my breasts through the bra. I squirmed.

She broke the kiss, and I opened my eyes. She was breathing hard, staring at me through half-lidded eyes.

I pulled my hands out of her grasp, sat up, and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her tightly to me, which forced her hand away from my chest. I held her very tightly.

"Are you all right?" she asked quietly.

"Yes. We have to stop though. I don't want to be seduced tonight."

"I know."

She wrapped her arms around me, and we held each other for a while.

"You feel so good," I told her. "Thank you. I'm sorry if I'm a tease."

"You have been clear, Pamela. Any teasing you're doing is good teasing."

"You have to climb off me now," I said. "I need to go." Reluctantly, I released my grip on her and she slide off me, but she was eyeing my breasts, barely concealed behind the bra.

"Do you like them?" I asked her.

She smiled. "Yes."

"I want an email tomorrow telling me what you thought about tonight after I leave."

"Vixen."

"If I don't get an email, I will presume you weren't thinking of me. My feelings will be hurt."

"Vixen!" She was smiling.

I buttoned my blouse while she watched, then I took her hand and pulled her towards the stairs.

Dinner In

I spent most of Sunday studying, although I did take time to bake some bread. I made a nice artisan loaf infused with rosemary. Num!

Moira called Sunday evening. We talked for an hour. When I told her my third date with Gwendolyn was on Friday, she immediately invited me to her home Saturday to cook together. We both subscribed to the same cooking magazines, so while over the phone, we picked up the latest issue of Cook's Illustrated and said, "Yes, yes, and yes" to the choices we found in there for a meal.

"I'll put some bread dough together and bring it with me," I told her.

"I'll make a dessert."

We had a plan.

Gwendolyn sent me flowers on Monday. I called her and left a thank you on her voice mail. She called me later. "I'm between appointments and just have a few minutes," she said.

"Me too," I said. "Good timing."

We talked briefly, then both had to go.

By Monday I had finished reading all four books. One of them hadn't been too bad, but the other three had been rough. I picked up one of them and started working my way through it again. Moira called. "I won't keep you," she said. "Lunch tomorrow?"

"Yes!"

"Excellent. Noon. Get back to the books."

I laughed and hung up.

Our lunch was lovely.

By the time I went to bed on Tuesday, I thought I'd absorbed the books as well as I was going to. I wasn't satisfied with my level of expertise. I opened an email to Andi then stared at the screen. Finally I told her the truth. I was as well-studied as I thought I could be in the time I've had, but that I felt shaky about the last two books. I promised to call Wednesday at seven, unless she wanted another time.

Checking my email Wednesday before heading to work, I received a reply. "Seven is perfect. Looking forward to talking with you. Andi."

I was so nervous.

Moira called me late in the afternoon. "I am just calling to wish you luck and let you know I have faith in you."

"I am so nervous," I told her. "I can barely concentrate."

"Andi will be impressed with honest confidence. She hates a bullshitter. If you don't know something, be honest about it."

"Thanks, Moira."

At two minutes before seven, I picked up my phone and prepped her number. Exactly at seven, I hit Send on the phone.

"When you said seven, you were serious," Andi said when she answered the phone.

"It's a gift," I said. "The ability to stare at the phone waiting for it to click over to the right time." She laughed.

"Were you familiar with the material in those books before you started reading them?"

"Maybe a little in the Gibbons book, but only in vague passing."

"All right." Then she started quizzing me, sticking to content from three of the books. I felt like I was doing all right. She hung me up a few times, and I admitted it. Once she asked me for my best gut feeling, so I thought just a moment and told her what I thought. I heard the smile over the phone.

"All right," she said. "Let's talk about the Samuels book. What did you think about it?"

"Um."

"Honestly."

"If you hadn't recommended I read it, I would have thought it was a bunch of bunk. But there must have been a reason you recommended it."

"Bunk?"

"Well-"

"Honestly, Pamela."

"It felt like a thinly-disguised discussion of trickle-down economics. And he hates Keynes. I got the impression that if it remotely smacked of Keynesian economics, it must automatically be wrong. I understand that there are people who don't like Keynes, but to fully reject everything just because you find the conclusions inconvenient seems awfully myopic."

I got quiet.

"Still there, Pamela?"

"Andi, I'm not sure I want this job."

"Oh Pamela, why not." Her voice was full of concern.

"If I'm supposed to believe that drivel, I'm not interested."

"Bravo." She said. "Bravo, Pamela."

"What?"

"I hate that book."

"What?"

"Why do you think I made you read it?"

I thought about it. "Because the person I'm going to interview with believes it?"

"No, although that's close."

"Because some of my clients would?"

"Yes. That's one reason. We'll talk more about that in a bit. What else?"

"To see if I would recognize it as drivel?"

"Yes. One more reason."

I thought about it. "Maybe to see if I would bullshit you."

"Yes."

"It was a test. What if I'd failed?"

"It wasn't a test. I've already passed your name on to the hiring manager in Minneapolis. I need a copy of your resume and an idea of when you would be available to talk to him. The correct answer is 'next Tuesday at ten AM'."

"Really? Andi?"

"Yes."

"Now I'm confused. Why all the reading?"

"You don't think I'd let you go to an interview unprepared, do you?" I heard the smile in her voice. "Read the Mason book once more. Pay attention to chapter eleven. As for the lovely Samuels book, I know for a fact that Ryan uses tactics similar in that book during interviews. Imagine that Ryan is the really Samuels, and he is going to propose his theories to you. What are you going to say? Understand that lying is the wrong answer."

"I'm supposed to argue what's wrong with it?"

"Yes. Politely. Perhaps as if you were discussing it with an easily-offended client. The word 'drivel' is probably not appropriate, if accurate."

I laughed. "Could we practice?"

"Yes. Hmm. Let me see if I can get into character."

Her tone changed, and I could tell it pained her, but she played the part of a client with a deep hatred for Keynes. I took a moderate position and didn't argue with her, but presented a position that would perhaps nudge her to a less extreme position.

"Okay, I can't do that anymore," she said, laughing. "You did all right. A little rough, but that's to be expected. Was Keynes right about everything?"

"Of course not. No one is right about everything. But he wasn't wrong about everything, either." I paused. "It is inconvenient to the pocketbooks of some people to believe that governments can moderate financial swings through careful financial policies, but the reality is a major government can do an awful lot to moderate the swings. If you believe in minimal government, the thought is anathema."

"Exactly. So the truth?"

"Somewhere in the middle, where truth usually lies." I paused. "I believe in Keynes far more than Friedman." I paused. "Do clients care about all this when dealing with us? We're there to make money for them, not help define fiscal policy."

"You are expected to be the ultimate expert, and clients frequently will test you based on their own, oftentimes flawed views of reality."

We talked for a while longer. While we were talking, I mailed her a copy of my resume, and she told me she'd verify ten AM on Tuesday and email directions. As we were wrapping up, I thanked her profusely.

"Make me proud, Pamela," she said. "I don't do this very often, but I have a great deal of confidence in you."

* * *

I got off the phone and realized I was sweating. And amazingly excited. I called Moira.

"Thank you thank you thank you!"

She laughed. "Good call with Andi?"

I told her about it.

"I am proud of you, honey."

"I don't have a job offer yet," I warned her.

"Andi has never done this for anyone before."

I shut up.

"Did I lose you?" Moira asked after a second.

"She said she doesn't do it very often."

"I guess once would qualify as not very often."

I thought about it. "Is she doing this for you?"

"No. I talked to her about it. She is impressed. She wants you with her firm. She said if you were willing to move to Chicago, she would already have hired you based on your conversation last week. She doesn't supervise any new employees, but if her managers didn't want you, she'd supervise you directly."

I started to cry.

"Oh honey," Moira said.

I cried quietly while Moira made soothing sounds. "I can be there in twenty minutes, honey."

"I'll be okay," I said, sniffling. "Why? Eight years at the bank. I've applied all over town, and I couldn't get a second interview anywhere. I've applied to Andi's firm. I got a form letter rejection. Why?"

"I don't know," she said quietly.

"What if Ryan doesn't like me?"

"I have more contacts. So does Andi."

I took a deep breath. "Positive thoughts. She got me an interview, inside track, and I suspect a VP in Chicago still carries a lot of weight in Minneapolis. I also suspect she has me well-prepped for this interview."

"Exactly," agreed Moira. "She told me you're a shoe-in, if you don't get cocky."

"So telling me I'm a shoe-in may not have been a good idea?"

We laughed together.

We talked for another hour before hanging up.

* * *

Gwendolyn and Moira both called me Thursday evening to verify our respective dates.

Gwendolyn told me she had bought new rope. She told me about surgeon's knots. She went on and on about how she could secure someone's limbs so she would be comfortable, but completely immobile. She wondered aloud how the rope would feel against bare skin, and how it might feel to be completely open and vulnerable to her. She wondered what her touch might feel like.

"If you think you're making me squirm," I told her. "You're not." She was, but I wasn't ready to admit it."

"Oh, I was just talking," she said. "Are your nipples hard?"

"No. Of course not. What a silly question."

"Are you sure? Maybe you should feel them and tell me."

"I am doing no such thing," I told her. In reality, I was doing just that, now that she mentioned it. I had a blouse and bra in the way, and my touch wasn't very satisfactory.

"You might get a better feel if you took your blouse off," she told me.

"Did you set up a video camera in my house while I wasn't looking?"

She laughed. "Phone sex is more fun if you participate, Pamela."

I decided it was time to turn the tables. "Are your nipples hard, Gwendolyn?"

"Yes, and I am wet just thinking about you."

I think I moaned. No, certainly not.

I heard her smirk, I swear I did. I decided to give it another try.

"You should unbutton your slacks and see how wet you are," I suggested.

"I'm not wearing any slacks, Pamela," she said. "I am on my bed with the lights dimmed. I am wearing nothing but a pair of panties. I got undressed before calling you. I have my rope here next to me, ready to bring to your home tomorrow. Do you think I have a nice figure?"

"Oh god," I said.

"Does that mean 'yes'?"

"Yes, Gwendolyn, you have an amazing figure."

"Thank you," she said. "That means a lot to me." I heard her gasp.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you think I am doing?" she asked me.

"You aren't!"

"What do you think I am doing?" she repeated.

"Touching yourself."

"Where am I touching?"

"Your, you know. Place."

She laughed. "My place?"

"Your. Um."

"Can't you say it? You have the same things I have. I'm a doctor. You can say it. I won't be shocked."

"Your clitoris," I said. "Okay. Your clitoris."

"Oh, I'm not touching that," she said. She gasped again. "I was earlier. Where do you think my fingers are now?"

"Oh god."

"No, not there."

"Stop it."

"Why would I do that? It feels good, and as a doctor I can assure you that a healthy sex life is a contributing factor to a healthy life."

"You're trying to tease me."

"Am I? Where are your fingers, Pamela? Where are you touching, right now?"

"I'm not."

"Have you unbuttoned your blouse?"

"Oh god."

"You have, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"I'm sure it's in the way," she said. "So is your bra. You can set the phone down and take them off. I'll wait."

"No."

"Why are you fighting me, Pamela? You know you want to do exactly what I tell you to do."

"Gwendolyn, stop." She was right. I definitely wanted to do what she said. It scared me.

"Oh Pamela," she said softly. "You don't want me to stop, do you?"

"No," I said quietly. "I'm scared."

"Why?" she asked gently. "I wouldn't ever hurt you."

"I know," I said.

"How often do you touch yourself? How often do you give yourself orgasms?"

"I don't know," I told her.

"Daily?"

"No!"

"Weekly?"

"No," but I said it more softly.

"Monthly?" She sounded sad when she said it.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Probably."

"Pamela, I will make a deal with you."

"What kind of deal."

"If I ask a question, you may choose not to answer it, or you may tell the truth. No lying."

"I wouldn't lie to you."

"In exchange, until we decide to get off the phone, I will do anything you tell me to do."

"I don't have to do anything, I just have to be honest, but you'll do what I tell you?"

"Yep. You have to promise."

"Promise."

"Do you want me to stop?" she asked immediately.

"No," I said in a small voice.

"Set the phone down and take off your blouse and bra, Pamela."

"I don't have to," I said, smiling.

"No," she said. "You don't. But you want to, don't you. You want to do what I tell you to do. You know it will feel good. It makes you excited to think about doing what I tell you to do, doesn't it?"

I sighed. "Yes."

"You know you are always safe with me."

"Yes."

"You know you need this, don't you?"

I didn't answer that.

"You don't have to answer that to me," Gwendolyn said. "It's enough to answer it to yourself. Pamela, take off your blouse and bra."

"All right," I said after a small pause. "Give me a moment."

I set the phone down on the bed and slipped out of my blouse and set it aside, then unlatched the bra and let it join the blouse. Then I picked up the phone.

"Done."

"Very good. Are you in your bedroom?"

"Yes."

"Turn the lights down so they aren't too bright."

"You have to do something now first."

"What?"

"I want you to use that rope and tie your legs together."

She was silent. I started grinning. I thought perhaps I had just wrested control of the conversation from her.

"That's not my thing," she said eventually.

"Phone sex isn't mine. Tell me what you're doing while you do it. I'm going to get up and light some candles."

"You are very naughty," she said. "All right. I am taking the rope and unbundling it." She sighed. "I just made a mess of it. This is going to take a minute to untangle."

I got off the bed, dug a lighter out of my dresser, and lit several candles around the room, then turned off all the lights. "I am in candle light now."

"Are you wearing slacks or a skirt?"

"Slacks."

"Take them off. If you're too uncomfortable, switch into a skirt."

"All right," I said. "A skirt."

"Not a pencil skirt."

I laughed. "Once of my flowing dance skirts."

"Perfect." There was a pause, then she said, "The rope is untangled. I am now finding the exact center of the rope."

I walked to my closet, slipping out of my jeans with one hand while holding the phone.

"How are you doing this while on the phone?"

"Bluetooth headset," she said. "I found the center and am doubling the rope at that point." She paused. "Do you want my legs tightly together or ankles crossed and my kneed spread?"

"Knees spread," I said. "I wouldn't want to deny you access anywhere."

She laughed softly. I picked a skirt and tried to slither into it. "Second. Pulling the skirt up." I set her down and pulled the skirt up, zipping it, then picked the phone back up. "Okay, climbing back onto the bed."

"My ankles are crossed, Pamela," she said in a soft voice. "I am thinking about doing this to you. I am wrapping the rope around my ankles." There was a pause. "Now I am drawing the two loose ends through the bight."

"Bight?"

"Where I folded the rope in half, it makes a loop." She paused. "Pulling it taut, then wrapping the two ends back around my ankles." Pause. "Then between my legs and around my ankles and between my feet." Pause. "Around. Around the other way. Around. And now tying it off. Done."

"Does that excite you?" I asked her, trying to maintain the upper hand.

"Thinking about you tied like this does," she said. "Have you ever been tied up before?"

"No. Does-"

"But you've thought about it, haven't you?"

I decided she was desperate to maintain control."

"Only recently."

"How recently?"

"Since you made me watch that movie?"

"Not since the car ride home?"

I laughed. "Okay, maybe then too. Using both hands, pinch your nipples and tell me what it feels like."

"My nipples are already hard," she said. "I've been playing with them." She gasped. "I imagined your teeth, and I really liked it. Are your nipples engorged?"

"Yes." I paused, trying to think of the next thing to do, but she didn't give me a chance.

"What do you want me to do with you once your ankles are tied?" she asked.

"I don't want to answer that," I told her.

She sighed. "Did you just lie to me?"

I thought about it.

"I don't know," I finally said in a small voice.

"Are you scared?"

"Nervous."

"Are you touching your nipples?"

"Not at this exactly second. I'm clasping the bedding."

"Oh? Why?"

"I'm trying to control my squirming!"

"You keep trying to take control, Pamela, but is that what you really want?"

"I don't know," I said in a small voice.

"You'll have more fun if you surrender to me."

"Oh god," I said. The thought send shivers up and down my spin. "I know. But I'm afraid where that will leave us."

"It will leave you very satisfied. And it will take the edge off of me so when I arrive tomorrow, I can control myself at least long enough to enjoy the meal you make me."

"Is that why you're doing this?"

"Yes. And because it's fun. Aren't you having fun?"

"Yes." I paused and licked my lips. "Gwendolyn, this is wrong."

"Why?"

"Because." I couldn't give an answer.

"Were you going to let me seduce you tomorrow?"

"I don't know."

"Honey, you promised not to lie."

"If you come on too strong, it will scare me. I might react badly. I might react badly just from you touching me."

"Close your eyes, Pamela," she said. "Imagine me there with you. Relax your hands on the bedding. Imagine me caressing your face and stroking your hair, very gently."

"That would feel nice," I told her. I had my eyes closed, and with her whispering in my ear, it was almost like she was there.

"Reach up with your free hand and caress you lips," she said. "Imagine I am brushing you with a kiss."

I slowly brushed my lips with my fingers.

"Does that feel nice?"

"Yes."

"Brush my lips across yours again, and then move me to your left nipple."

I brushed my lips with my fingers again, imagining her lips, then moved my fingers to my nipple.

"Do you like my lips wrapping gently around your nipple?"

"Yes," I said, a little breathlessly.

"Do you want me to stop, Pamela?"

"No, but I'm still scared."

"I am doing to myself everything I am telling you to do, Pamela," she said. "Imagine your ankles tied like mine are."

"Are yours really tied?"

"Yes," she said. "Exactly like I told you."

I crossed my own ankles and spread my legs, imagining she had tied them that way. I didn't tell her that.

"What are my lips doing to your nipple, Pamela?"

"Twirling," I said. "You have very clever lips."

She laughed. "Do you like them?"

"Yes. Now they're pinching, just a tiny bit. My nipple is very engorged."

"I bet the right one is feeling lonely. It's time to move to your right nipple."

I heard a gasp from her, and I echoed it as soon as I moved my fingers to the other nipple. I heard her breath rapidly for a moment.

"Do you enjoy surrendering to my voice, Pamela?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Because you know it feels good," she told me. "Don't you?"

"Yes."

"You know I can give you an eleven, with a little practice. What's the best you've had before?"

I sighed. "A two, maybe a four once. But maybe it was really a ten, and everyone is lying when they talk about the world shaking."

She laughed. "They aren't lying." She paused and gasped. "It's time for my lips to move lower now, Pamela."

"No."

"Yes. Slide your fingers down to your belly button. Imagine me kissing you there, then more kisses over your pelvis on both sides."

"Oh god," I said. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you need this," she said. "So do I. Can you feel me kissing your pelvis?"

"Yes. It feels nice."

"Yes, it does. This is one of my favorite places to kiss. Does it tickle?"

"A little."

"Imagine my hair brushing you while I'm kissing you there."

I started to squirm again.

"Now, it's time to slide the hem of your skirt up."

"I'm not ready for that."

"Yes, Pamela, you are. Slide your skirt up. Be a good girl."

"You're asking me to be a naughty girl."

"This isn't naughty," she said. "Don't let puritans who have been gone for two hundred years dictate to you what is right and wrong."

I thought about it and realized she was right.

"It's wrong if someone gets hurt, honey. No one is getting hurt, and it feels nice to surrender to me." She paused. "Doesn't it?"

"Yes." It was a whimper.

"Slide your skirt up, Pamela."

"All right." I reached down, wriggled around a little, and pulled my skirt up so it was bunched around my waist, my panties exposed to the air.

"What color panties are you wearing?"

"Black," I said.

"Are they nice panties?"

"They're okay."

"Are you going to be wearing nice panties tomorrow night?"

"Oh god!"

"Are you?"

"Yes."

"Am I going to see them?"

"Gwendolyn-"

"Am I?"

"Yes."

I heard her smile.

"Imagine me kissing you right at the top of your panties," she said.

"No. I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"No. Too much."

"All right. Imagine I am touching you, sliding my fingers along the outside of the waistline of your panties."

I slide my hand slowly along the waistline, from one pelvis to the other.

"Then back to the middle before sliding down. Can you feel me?"

"Yes."

"Use the back of your fingernail, and slide it along your mound."

I did it, gasping and squirming. I heard her gasp with me.

"Oh, that feels nice, doesn't it?"

"Yes." I did it again and gasped.

"Just do that, slowly, a few more times," she said. "Imagine my hands, imagine me kneeling over you, smiling at you, but you can't see because you have closed your eyes, lost in the sensations you're enjoying so much."

"Gwendolyn-"

"It feels so good, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"The guys don't know how to do this, but I do, Pamela, I am very, very good at this."

"I know."

"Do you want to stop?"

"No!"

"No more balking then, or you'll hurt my feelings. It feels so good, you don't want me to stop. You trust me, don't you?"

"Yes."

I couldn't stop squirming or running my finger along my sex. My panties were soaked with my juices, and it was getting worse.

"Slide your fingers inside your panties now, Pamela. Use them to spread your labia and find your clitoris."

"Oh- Oh-" I said as my fingers rubbed against my little nub. It was already engorged and sensitive.

I heard her gasp, and then she was quiet for a moment, then she let out a deep breath.

"Did you just come?"

"Yes."

"So easily?"

"Are your fingers touching your clitoris, Pamela?"

"Yes."

"It feels so good, doesn't it, surrendering to my voice, surrendering to your body's needs."

"Yes."

"This is what you need, isn't it?"

"No. I need you doing it in person."

"Soon. Slide your middle finger inside your slit now, slowly."

"Oh..."

"That's nice too, isn't it?"

"Yes. Oh Gwendolyn."

"You will come very soon, Pamela. Not quite yet, but very soon, and when you do, you will say my name, over and over while you are coming, won't you?"

"Yes."

"I am the one giving you these pleasures, pleasures you deeply need and enjoy."

"Yes," I said, breathlessly and gasping.

"Have you ever penetrated yourself, Pamela?"

"I don't want to answer that."

"I need to know, Pamela."

Although my eyes were closed, and she was only on the phone, I found myself looking to the side as if to hide my face. I felt myself blushing. "No."

"We're going to do this very slowly then," she said. "Slide your middle finger slowly, very slowly into your vagina. Feel how wet it is, how good it feels."

"No...." I said quietly.

"Surrender, Pamela. Trust me. Do this for me. Please. Do this for me and for yourself. Middle finger now. Slowly."

"Yes, Gwendolyn," I said. Slowly I slide my middle finger inside my vagina, the slick walls wrapping loosely around my finger. It was warm and damp and felt good, so good.

"Slowly now, she said, slide out, then back in, very carefully."

I did what she said and moaned.

"Now I the next time, I want you to add your ring finger. Middle finger and ring finger, slide them in together now."

"Yes," I said, barely a whisper, completely lost to her voice. I slide my fingers inside myself, and my vagina closed around them both, and it was snug and wonderful.

"Press them in as far as you can and hold them there," she said. "As far as you can."

"Oh Gwendolyn," I said. "I've never done this."

"I know, but it feels nice, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"Are your fingers in all the way?"

"Yes."

"Do you know where your g-spot is?"

"Gwendolyn, please don't ask."

"Honey, it's okay. I want you to curl your fingers as if you are making a come hither gesture. Press the pads of your fingers against the walls of your vagina and brush them there."

"Oh!"

"Did you like that?"

"Yes!"

"Do it again."

"Don't stop. Oh Gwendolyn!"

"If you can, use your thumb to tease your clitoris, or the ball of your hand."

"Oh god! Oh god!"

"Don't stop now, Pamela."

"Go slow now," she ordered. "Let it build, Pamela."

"I can't. Oh god!" I felt the waves start to roll over me, and then they burst through me. "Gwendolyn!" I screamed, then again.

The shudders took over, and the muscles of my vagina clamped down on my fingers, my hips bucking as I squirmed and squirmed, my fingers now just pressing tightly against my g-spot, a place I didn't even know I had, the shudders making me squirm enough I continued to receive stimulation.

Finally I collapsed against the bed, quietly saying her name over and over until I stilled.

"Better than a two?" she asked quietly.

"Yes. Why did you do that to me?"

"Because I wanted to help you learn pleasure."

I sat there panting for a few minutes.

"What about you?" I finally asked.

"Honey," she said. "I've had three orgasms since we started."

"No way!"

"You caught one of them. That was the second. The third came while you were screaming my name."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Were the good?"

"The first two were small. The last one wasn't as big as yours, but it was nice. I'll be able to behave myself for at least a little while tomorrow."

I laughed. "You better. I took the afternoon off."

"You're trying to show off?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Um."

"My legs are still tied. The truth."

"I want you to know I can take care of you."

"Oh Pamela," she said. "Thank you."

We murmured at each other for a few more minutes, then she said, "I think it's time I untie my legs, and maybe you want to climb into jammies. What time tomorrow?"

"Is five thirty okay?"

"Five thirty is perfect. Should I bring anything?"

"Just yourself."

"Bottle of wine?"

I thought about it. "No. If I let you touch me, I don't want to be able to blame alcohol."

"See you tomorrow." And then we hung up.

* * *

Moira's call came just a few minutes later. I was still in bed, three quarters naked. As soon as I answered, I felt myself begin to blush.

"Is everything all right?" she asked immediately.

"Yes. Just."

"Yes?"

"I'm. Um."

"Are you alone?"

"Yes."

"Are you naked?"

"Not entirely."

"What's wrong?"

"I'm just-"

"Do I need to come over?"

"No!"

"Oh dear. Honey?"

"I got off the phone with Gwendolyn a few minutes ago."

Moira began laughing. "She talked you into phone sex."

"Oh god, I'm so embarrassed."

She continued to laugh.

"Don't laugh at me! I'm going to hang up!"

"I'm not laughing at you," she said. "I'm laughing that you're embarrassed, and that she beat me to it. Why do you think I was calling?"

"Oh god!"

"Was it good?"

"Don't ask me that!"

"Pamela, I've spent all day thinking about how I was going to talk you into this, and I had an entire script worked out. Now it's wasted. At least you can let me live vicariously."

"I'm sorry," I told her.

"I'll forgive you if you answer my questions."

"No! It's too embarrassing."

"Three questions."

"No."

"Yes or no questions. Throw me a bone, Pamela."

"Fine," I said. "Three yes or no questions."

"Was it good?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever had phone sex before?"

"No."

She was silent for a while.

"Did I lose you?" I asked after looking at the phone and seeing I still had a connection.

"I'm running through questions, but I can guess the answers to most of them." She paused. "I have a three-way question."

"You get a yes or no."

"Was it the best orgasm you've ever had, about as good as the best, or somewhat behind your best?"

"Oh god, Moira."

"Tell me," she said quietly.

"I have a g-spot."

She began laughing again.

"Don't laugh at me!"

"Honey, you didn't know?"

"No."

"And now you know how to find it."

"Yes." I paused. "Aren't you jealous?"

"Of course. Some. But this whole thing was my idea. I can hardly complain, can I?" It was her turn to pause. "I wasn't at all confident I could talk you into this, so a hand in the bush, so to speak."

"Oh my god, that was so bad."

She chuckled.

"Can we please change the topic?"

"What are you wearing?"

"Moira!"

"Are you naked?"

"No."

"But you certainly aren't fully dressed."

"Moira."

"I am wearing a black teddy and panties."

"You are not, you're probably in an ugly sweatshirt and sweat pants."

"Wager?"

"No. I'm wearing panties and a skirt."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

"Are the panties wet?"

"Moira!"

"Mine are, just thinking about you."

"Moira!"

I started to laugh. "I can't believe you caught me, then figured it out, then got me to tell you about it. I'm not supposed to kiss and tell."

"You didn't kiss. You touched."

"Moira!"

"Honey," she said quietly. "Do you really want me to stop teasing you? Honestly?"

"No," I said in a small voice. "But I'm still blushing."

"That's flushed, dear. Good sex does that."

"Oh god."

"Honey, set the phone down, get naked, put a bathrobe on and fresh panties. I'll wait."

"Um."

"No clean panties to put on?"

"I need to clean up."

"I'll wait right here."

"I could call you back."

"No. Hurry though, or I might think of fresh ways to tease you. Now that you're no longer a phone sex virgin, it might be easier to get you to do it a second time."

"Moira, please," I said.

"Please, what?"

I sighed. "I'll be back in two or three minutes."

I set the phone down and shed out of my clothes, then ran to the bathroom. I used a wash cloth to clean up a little, then dried myself. After that, I was back in the bedroom pulling out jammies and tossing on my bathrobe. I climbed back into the bed and picked up the phone.

"Was I gone too long?"

"Not at all," she said. "What are you wearing?"

I laughed. "My defenses are up, Moira. Granny jammies and the ugliest bathrobe on the planet."

"Oh, so much fun to take them off you again," she said.

"Were you really calling for phone sex?"

"Yes."

"Oh god," I said. "I'm not sure which of you is the worst."

She laughed. "You mean the best." She paused, then said quietly, "Gwendolyn has a reputation in that department. I don't."

"Would you disappoint me?" I asked her.

"I'm better than the guys you've been with, by several orders of magnitude."

I didn't know how to respond to that.

"Did you put up a fight?"

"A little. Clearly not enough. Now she probably thinks I'm easy."

"Probably."

"Moira!"

"I'm just being agreeable."

"Bitch."

"Don't call me that," she said quietly.

"Serious?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Just not again. I know it was meant in the nicest possible way, but I have bad experience with that word. Don't use the other nasty words around me, either, unless you really, truly mean them."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

I paused. "Just so I understand. When I used that word on Bonnie at the auction-"

"That's when it's appropriate."

"All right. I understand now."

"Good. Thank you." She paused. "Glad you didn't fight too hard?"

"No."

"Are you lying?"

"Yes."

She laughed.

"Changing the subject now."

"Tell me about these jammies you have on."

"That, I believe, would be the same subject."

"Are you really telling me that Gwendoyn got to have phone sex with you and I don't?"

"Yes."

"We'll see."

"She paid more. Thus, she got phone sex."

Moira laughed. "I rather doubt that was what went through your mind while she was telling you what to do."

It was my turn to laugh. "No, it's not."

She let me off the hook at that point. I was both relieved and a little disappointed, but I'm not sure I would have cooperated with her if she had kept after me. We talked about our days.

"I got two new clients today. One buyer, and one seller and buyer."

"Very nice," I said. "Three potential commissions."

"Exactly." She paused. "And the buyer might like the seller's house."

"Hogger time!"

"Maybe. I have to do my job though and show other properties."

"Of course."

"I actually don't like hoggers. I consider it a conflict of interest. I prefer to be able to advocate for my clients, and when I am representing both sides, I can't fight for either side properly without under-representing the other side. If both the buyer and seller are sufficiently sophisticated, it's okay. But this buyer is a first time buyer. If she likes the house I'm listing, I may refer her to someone else to represent her."

"Give up half the commission?"

"I want her represented properly."

"Is the asking price fair?"

She paused. "I shouldn't talk about this to you."

"We never had this conversation. I have no idea what you're talking about." I paused. "We both know the rules. Hmm. Prepare a non-disclose agreement for me, and I'll sign it on Saturday. I want you to be able to talk to me."

"I wonder if that's legal. Hmm. Anyway, the sellers bumped me several thousand dollars from my recommendation."

"So no, you don't think it's a fair asking price."

"I don't think a first time home buyer coming in with minimum down payment is going to get a loan on this house at the asking price. It won't pass an inspection at that price. That is my opinion, and the bank may have a different opinion."

"You know the banks are always more conservative than the agents, especially lately." I paused. "You shouldn't take the hogger."

"No. The worst part is, I like the buyer more. I'd rather work with her, but the seller is upgrading significantly, and it would cost me a huge commission on the other side."

"Hmm. Maybe she won't like it?"

"It's exactly what she's looking for, and if it were priced properly, it's exactly what she expects to pay."

"You're screwed."

"Yep."

"So show it to her, and when you do, be as honest as you can without talking about the price. Tell her if she decides she is interested, you'll need to get another agent involved so that she can be properly represented. Let her decide."

"I'd love to sell her this house, but not at this price. Yes, you're exactly right. I'm so glad I talked to you. Are your nipples hard?"

I laughed. "Nice try." I felt them. "Yes."

She laughed. "Tease."

"That word isn't on the naughty list?"

"Not when it's accurate."

"How about vagina?"

"No, that word is okay, too. If you're talking about a particular body part and not referring to an entire person."

"And slang for that part?"

"Absolutely not. I hate vajayjay," Moira said.

"Don't say that to Oprah."

"Cunt is okay, though," she said.

"It is not!" I said, shocked.

"It is, when referring to a misogynist man you don't like."

I laughed.

"I did that once. It was another agent, a total bigot in my office. He had been steering buyers away from my listings and had been making calls to my clients, asking them if they were satisfied with the level of service they were getting from such an inexperienced agent."

"Oh shit."

"He did that to the wrong client, and she was pissed. She came straight to me and told me about it, then volunteered to run it up the ladder as high as was necessary to get him fired. So then we called two of my other clients, and they'd gotten calls, too. They hadn't told me because they didn't want me to get angry."

"What happened?"

"I got all of them to show up for our weekly meetings at the office. All the agents, the boss, the boss's boss, and then I introduced my three clients. Two women and one couple. They took turns repeating the phone call they had received. As soon as the first one began talking, he called her a lying dyke. She was engaged to be married to a very nice man."

"What a moron."

"When they were done, I stood back up, thanked them, then turned to him and said, 'You are a fucking cunt.' I turned to the boss. I was about to issue an ultimatum, but he held his hand up. He turned to my clients. 'Would you go to court with those statements?'"

"'We've written them down,' they said together. 'Signed and notarized'."

"The boss's boss turned to me and asked, 'Have you lost clients recently who have then become his clients?' I had checked and told him yes, I had lost two that way, but I didn't have proof they didn't switch without prompting."

"The boss's boss turned to the asshole and said, 'You are fired immediately. We will be referring this to corporate legal. I encourage you to shut your mouth and hire an attorney. You are going to need one. Any current clients will of course remain with the brokerage, as their agreements are with the brokerage, not you, and if you contact any of them and attempt to retain them, you will give us additional fuel when we take you to court. Get the fuck off our property. If you are ever seen on our property again, you will be charged with trespassing'."

"The boss's boss turned to the boss and said, 'Get that asshole out of here'."

"As soon as they left, everyone in the room stood up and gave me and my clients a standing ovation."

"Wow."

"So, um. He had it coming."

"Big time." She paused. "It gets worse. I'd represented my cousin. I called her and told her about it. And she said, 'Oh hell. I got a call from some guy at your office. He asked a question like that. I thought it was a service call of some sort, like your boss or something.' So then I called all my clients from the last two years. He had called a bunch of them. I gave all the info to the boss and let him deal with it."

"What happened?"

"I was assured he was no longer a licensed real estate agent and blamed me."

"So he was real big on taking responsibility for his own actions."

"Yes."

"Huh. Well, now I know under what circumstances I can use that word."

She laughed.

We talked for another hour before Moira caught me yawning.

"Bedtime for you," she said.

"Sorry."

"No, it's late. I'll see you on Saturday."

"I am looking forward to it."

"Good night, Pamela."

"Good night. Moira?"

"Yes?"

"I should have held out for you."

She laughed. "Gwendolyn was probably better than I would have been. I tend to giggle."

"Good night."

* * *

Friday I worked in the morning but left at lunch. I went grocery shopping for fresh groceries. When I got home, I changed into grubby clothes and began a batch of bread. While it was rising, I went through the house, making sure everything was perfect. I set out new candles.

And changed the bedding.

I made a flourless chocolate torte for desert. That took time. I would make fresh whipped cream and a strawberry ganache at the last minute.

The main course was going to be a rosemary herb encrusted chicken. I timed the bread so it came out and the chicken went in. If I had a double oven, I would have cooked the bread to finish just moments before Gwendolyn arrived, but I didn't, so I made do.

I had both a soup and a salad course planned. The salad was easy, and I could work on that after Gwendolyn arrived, but the soup took time. I was making my favorite, curried broccoli soup, which involves peeling the broccoli stalks. It always took me forever. I prepared that then set it in the refrigerator. I'd finish it on the stove later.

Then I prepared for pureed parsnips. Yum! They would go great with the chicken.

At four fifteen I checked my plans. Everything was on task, and I had a window with nothing to do, so I popped into the shower. I washed, shaved my legs, and washed my hair with my favorite, albeit most expensive, shampoo. I dried, fluffed, primped, dried some more, primped some more, and got dressed.

I wore my little black dress, nylons, and my favorite black boots. I adorned with shoulder duster earrings and a matching necklace. I looked hot, if I may say so myself. Plus I could wear the boots while cooking where I wouldn't have willingly worn heels at the stove.

I roamed through the house, checking on things. I wasn't sure what she wanted to do after dinner. Okay, I knew exactly what she wanted to do, but we weren't going to get to that right away, and I might still chicken out. I had some Netflix movies, so I set those out. I set out cards and a couple of games. We had options for a sweet evening in.

I was working on the salad when the doorbell rang. I peeled off the apron before answering the door.

"You look fabulous!" Gwendolyn said as soon as she saw me.

"So do you," I replied. She was dressed in bright, eye-catching red, with black hose and heels. She looked stunning. She was carrying a cloth shopping bag, and I saw the corner of her go board sticking out of it. "You brought it."

"I did," she said. She stepped in and as soon as the door was closed, she had me pressed against it and was ravishing my mouth, her hand on my breast.

I let her and moaned into the kiss.

When finally she released me, I was breathless. I fluttered my eyes open and looked at her. "Rule one. You may not seduce me before dessert. After that, no promises, but I want you to enjoy dinner. I went through a lot of work, and if you are focused on getting me into bed, you won't pay attention to what I cooked for you."

She smiled. "Agreed. Once dessert is on the table, however..." She let the threat linger. I laughed.

"No promises, Gwendolyn. That kiss was hot, but fifty-fifty I'm going to panic if it starts to feel too real."

"I can live dangerously," she said with a smile.

I took her hand and pulled her to the kitchen. "It smells absolutely amazing," she said. "Did you really cook everything?"

"From scratch, even the bread and the dessert."

I gestured, and she took a seat on a stool at the small center island I use for prep space. While describing the meal, I took out a plate, ground some black pepper into it, then poured olive oil over it. I set it on the island near her, then grabbed the loaf from the counter and cut several hunks off, setting them on a second plate. I tore a hunk from one of the slices, dabbed it through the olive oil, then offered it to her. She took it straight from my fingers and began moaning in pleasure.

At the sounds, I immediately felt my juices begin to flow. Oh dear. But I surely did love cooking for someone who was outwardly appreciative.

"That's amazing!" she said. "There's an herb in it?"

"Rosemary." I got my fresh rosemary out, stripped some into my mortar, then ground it with the pestle and held it under her nose. She immediately went into orgasmic bliss.

"That's rosemary?" she asked. "I've always wanted to do someone named Rosemary."

I laughed. "My favorite herb. It's in the chicken, too."

She took more of the bread. "Is there more to do?"

I looked at her. "You're a surgeon. Think you can use something crude like a chef's knife without cutting your fingers off?"

"I think I can manage."

I slide the vegetables to her along with a cutting board and knife. "These are for the salad, so make them whatever size fits comfortably in your mouth. If you embarrass yourself and take a nick from the knife, I will tell everyone."

She laughed. "I will strive to avoid embarrassment." She eyed the knife dubiously then held out her hand, palm up. "Scalpel."

I laughed.

I attended to other tasks and kept an eye on her. She was slow and deliberate with the knife. I grabbed another knife and cutting board and began cutting up some of the vegetables with her. I didn't say anything.

"A surgeon with cuts on her fingers does not engender confidence in her patients or colleagues," she said.

"I imagine not," I said.

"And thus said surgeon is slow and deliberate."

"I wasn't criticizing."

Together we finished the salad, and we tossed everything into my wooden salad bowl. I set it aside, but she reached over and stole some of the cucumbers.

I fussed with a few things then sat down. "We have a little time," I said.

"Good." She reached down for her go board.

"Oh no," I said. "That waits until dessert. I know what sort of wager you want, and I need to focus on dinner."

"Teaching game," she said. "I want to go over the game we played last weekend with you. Just in the breaks you have."

"All right," I said. "But I'll be fussing more over dinner, too."

She set the board up on the island, including my nine black stones. "All right," she said. "We started like this." She played a white stone. "Do you remember your response?"

"No, but you didn't like it."

"Not exactly true." She placed a black stone on the board. "This is a very aggressive move, the sort a very strong player might play."

"So a good move."

"Aggressive. It's not the same thing. It's a good move if you can pull it off." She played through our sequence. "How did it go for you?"

"Poorly." She made me explain the results.

"Good. Exactly. Now let me show you why a very good player could do it." She showed me a completely different sequence. "Someone at my level could play that way against a professional level player, although a professional player might play that better than I just did. Do you see?"

"I wouldn't have seen that."

"No." She rearranged the board to how our game had gone, then she played the next corner. "You learned from your first corner, so you played this differently. This went better for you. When I saw you were doing well, I left that corner and played here."

She went through our first forty or fifty moves, showing me what I did right and what I did wrong. Then she cleaned the board and showed me what I could have done to her opening move, playing at my level.

Throughout all this, I was also checking on things. The soup and parsnips both went onto the stove. The chicken was looking good. We both ate a little more bread. I slapped her hand when she reached for more of the salad.

That earned me an interesting look. "Don't do that again," she said very quietly. She didn't sound angry. "It gives me the idea you might like it returned. That probably isn't accurate."

"So you're not mad."

"No. Anything you do to me is permission to do to you, that's all."

"Oh. Right. Sorry." I paused. "My grandmother used to slap our hands when we'd try to steal before dinner. I was channeling her."

She grinned. "I hope you aren't comparing me in age to your grandmother."

"Maybe my mother."

"Oh, you will pay for that comment," she said. "I promise."

I giggled.

After that I was stuck at the stove for the duration. Everything came out exactly as I wanted. I pulled the chicken out of the oven.

"Oh my god," she said when she saw it. "That looks amazing."

"Thank you," I said. I gave it some time to cool a little while I dished out the soup into two bowls. I slid them to her and asked her to put them on the table. She set the bread and salad over there as well. I then attacked the chicken, quickly cutting it into manageable pieces. I set the legs, wings and thighs on a platter, then deboned the breasts, put a little of the pureed parsnips on each of two plates, added the breasts, then poured the rest of the parsnips over the tops.

Everything went onto the table, and it was time to sit down.

"Amazing," she said, taking a deep whiff. "This is amazing, Pamela."

I smiled under her praise.

She started with a little of the soup, closing her eyes to the first spoonful and humming in joy. She was equally effusive when she tried the chicken. I beamed at her. I was proud of my cooking, but I hadn't had a new recipient of my efforts for a while. Sam, Bonnie and Suzanne were always receptive guests, but it was heartwarming to hear Gwendolyn make such pleasant noises. After all, she probably ate fabulous meals at expensive restaurants all the time.

I asked her about that.

"It's not the same, is it? You made this for me. Not for some nameless customer. You individually fondled every broccoli, and I can only imagine why it's so creamy."

"Gwendolyn!"

She put on an innocent expression. "What? Did your mind just go in the gutter?"

"It was shoved there."

"Not by me." She grinned at me. "I was wondering what you might taste like."

I started to blush horribly. "That's curry. Curry. It comes in a jar."

"Then why are you blushing?"

I covered my embarrassment by spearing at my salad. She sat across the table and chuckled at me.

"It really is amazing, Pamela," she said once my blush had faded. She wasn't holding anything phallic at the time and her tone felt sincere. "I'm sorry I teased you."

"No you aren't," I said. "But I admit, it was an effective tease."

She smiled. "Do you cook like this all the time?"

"Not for myself. Sometimes for guests. Sometimes not quite so elaborately. The girls come over a lot, and a lot of the time I just whip something up." I paused. "What I could do in a kitchen like yours though. My house is too small for full sized dinner parties, so there are never more than four of us."

She smiled then changed the subject, but I frequently caught her eating with her eyes closed. She was one of the most gracious guests I've ever fed.

"Leave room for dessert," I told her finally, explaining what I had made.

"Ooh," she said. "That sounds divine."

"It is. Very decadent. I'm going to need hours at the club. But it's worth it."

We finished the main meal, and Gwendolyn helped me clean up the table and put leftovers away. I made coffee to go with the dessert and rinsed the dishes, but would wash them after she left.

"Perhaps we should go curl up on the sofa for a while before dessert?"

"That would be lovely." We picked up our coffees and carried them with us. She set her coffee down, then crouched down in front of me and began unzipping my boots.

"Hey."

"I thought you wanted to get comfortable. I'm helping."

I hobbled over to the sofa and sat down, and she pulled my boots off, caressing each foot for a moment. Then she took off her own shoes and joined me on the sofa. I curled into her, and she immediately lifted my chin and kissed me.

It was a long, seductive kiss, and she was in control of it the entire time. My heart began beating, and I realized, all the teasing was about to become reality.

Was this what I wanted?

When she broke the kiss, she stared into my eyes, still holding my face so I couldn't look away. My eyes flicked back and forth between hers.

"That was just a kiss," she said quietly. "Thank you for the lovely meal. It was amazing."

Then she released me and wriggled into a more comfortable position, leaving an arm around my shoulders and inviting me to give her my hand.

We sat like that for a few minutes, cuddling and drinking our coffee. My heart slowly calmed down, but I was nervous, more nervous than I had been while cooking.

"Gwendolyn-"

"Shhh," she said. "I am digesting."

"Gwendolyn-"

"Shhh."

"I'm scared."

She sighed.

"I am on the edge of panic," I said. I was. I didn't know what I was doing, but I had a pretty good idea what she was doing.

"Pamela," she said quietly. "We are just sitting on the sofa like we have before."

"I know, but I know what you want next."

"Dessert."

"You want me for dessert."

"I want that lovely chocolate torte you promised me. And a game of go."

"With a wager?"

"A fun wager. Playful. You'll like losing."

I laughed, then sobered. "So you don't want me for dessert?"

"I don't want anything you don't give me willingly," she said. "As far as I am concerned, you could kick me out this minute and I would feel you had more than given me my money's worth from the auction. I thought the most I would get were three chaste goodnight kisses plus maybe a few stolen ones, for which you would berate me terribly."

"So you wouldn't be hurt if I sent you away?"

"Yes, I would, especially if I thought you did it because you were afraid of me." She paused. "If all you want from this moment forward is friendship, then friendship is what we will have. But if you chase me out now, friendship might be difficult. It might be easier after dessert and a game of go."

I laughed.

"I have no intention of chasing you out." I paused. "Go slowly, okay?"

"I am. And playfully. Is that all right?"

"Playfully is good." I snuggled into her a little. "What is the wager?"

"You said playfully is good." She paused. "If I win, you will allow me to tie your hands together."

"No!"

"If you win, I will do anything you order until it is time for me to leave."

I thought about it. "Anything?"

"Anything that remains between the two of us and isn't foolish." She paused. "I won't let you tie me up though. I'm not sure I would respond well."

"Just tie my hands together. Not to anything else, not taking clothes off, not trying my legs?"

"Right."

I thought some more. "If I thought I had a remote chance of winning, I'd say yes."

"Thirteen stones."

That shut me up for a moment before I asked. "Seriously?"

"Yes."

"Are you letting me win?"

"Honestly, I don't know," she said. "It depends on how well you took to the lesson I just gave you. I would have beaten you last weekend at thirteen stones, fairly easily. I have absolutely no idea now though." She paused. "I would still win at nine."

"Are you going to be upset if I win?"

"No. Will you try to enjoy it if I do?"

"Yes. All right. Thirteen stones." I sighed. "I really am not very good at this game."

"You'll get better fast. You're smart, and you understand it better than most beginners. Even if I win today, I'll never give you thirteen stones again and expect to win. We'll have to keep future wagers at nine stones and tame until you start winning a few."

"This wager isn't tame."

"It is, in a way. I'm not making you get naked for me. I am only tying your hands. You can still tell me 'no' afterwards."

I thought about it. "I don't want to go straight from our game to bed. I want more of an evening than that."

She thought about it for a moment. "Do you have more ways you wanted to show me that you can take care of me?"

"Yes. I wanted you to see that there is more to a relationship than sex. I wanted to do something simple, like watch a movie. A non-porn movie."

She laughed.

"Or play a game without any sexual undercurrents. No wagers."

She thought about it for a while, then pulled me to another heart-pounding-inducing kiss. When she released me from the kiss, she said, "You've already given me a taste of all that. It's my turn to give you a taste."

"I still am not sure."

"I know. So, dessert. Go. Wagers. Then we see. We might end up with a very frivolous evening and end as friends, not lovers."

"You don't believe that."

She smiled. "Neither do you."

I got up from the sofa, and she followed me. We returned to the kitchen, and I began whipping the sweet cream. It took several minutes before it was ready. I took out the torte, added the cream in little puffs around the edges, then cut it. I poured ganache on two desert plates, added a piece of the torte, then drizzled more ganache over the top. Gwendolyn watched the entire process.

"It's half art."

"Yes. Presentation matters. Let's play in the other room."

I took our torte out, then grabbed the coffee carafe. Gwendolyn brought the go set with her. She sat on the sofa and I moved to a chair opposite her, the coffee table between us. I slid her dessert to her and picked mine up, then watched her.

She looked at me, and I nodded. She took a piece of the chocolate and slide it slowly between her lips, then closed her eyes and moaned.

My reaction to it wasn't all that different.

I set my plate down, holding the chocolate in my mouth, and began setting up my stones on the board. I swallowed and looked at her. "I don't know where the last four go."

She placed them on the board for me, then eyed it. "I've never played against thirteen before." She looked at me. "I may have over-calculated." She paused. "Honey, I play to win."

"I know."

"I am going to be mean."

"It's not mean."

She smiled.

She made her first play, then took another bite of her dessert.

I played conservatively. Everywhere she attacked, I retreated slightly and set up for a position of strength. She acquired territory, but so did I.

Our desserts were finished just about when the board was starting to take on real shape.

She frowned at me. "I really wanted to tie your hands tonight," she said.

"I play to win too."

She stared at the board, then made a play deep into territory that was firmly mine. It was a suicide play, and I ignored it. I made a minor move in an area that was slightly contested, and play moved there for a couple of moves. Then she placed another stone deep into my territory again. I looked at it and decided she was getting desperate. I made another minor move, worth a point or so.

At that point, she stared at the board for a long time.

"More coffee?"

She didn't look up. "Sure." I poured coffee for her and added cream. She sipped it, still staring at the board.

She stared at the board for over five minutes.

"You're not falling asleep, are you?"

She looked up at me. "Honey, I'm sorry." She added a third stone deep into my territory.

I stared at it. "You're bluffing."

I made another minor play, worth a half a point. She took my stone off the board and handed it to me. "No. You have to respond to what I just did."

"You're committing suicide. Or trying to trick me."

"I'm giving you a chance," she said, looking at me. "I won't make you take back your move again, if that's what you really want to do."

I stared at the board. I didn't see any threats. I had a huge area there. No way could she take all those stones. I played the play I wanted.

She added a fourth stone, and her entire body language changed. I looked at her. "You see something," I told her.

She didn't respond, but she looked me in the eye.

"If you're bluffing, then I have won."

"Yes."

"Have I lost?"

She thought before responding. "Please don't ignore my last stone."

Normally in go, playing into the opponent's territory is just giving your opponent more points. Playing into your own territory is taking points away from yourself. You only do the first when you think you can win whatever you're trying to do, and you only do the second when you think you have to. I stared at the board. Gwendolyn had handed me four prisoners. I could afford to fill a space. I played into my space.

Gwendolyn didn't even think. She played immediately.

That was when the trap became obvious. I stared at her in horror. "I don't have two eyes in there."

"No."

In go, an eye is an area you have completely surrounded. If you have one eye, your opponent can fill it and capture your stones. If you have two eyes, she has to fill both, but that takes two plays in a row, and she can't do that. So one eye can be killed, two eyes can not.

I stared at the board. I couldn't see any way to form two eyes with her stones where they were. I looked to see if there was any way I could connect that big group to another group, but it was completely surrounded.

I looked at Gwendolyn. "I don't see how to make two eyes."

"Neither do I," she said.

"Would you have said that if you did see how?"

"No. I would have stayed quiet. If I didn't want to win as badly as I do, I might tell you to look harder."

"I can't connect outside."

"No."

"They're dead."

"Yes."

I sighed and played out the points in the other parts of the board.

She nodded, and the game wrapped up over the next three or four minutes. When she pulled off all my prisoners, I still had nice territory on the other side of the board, but by the time she filled it in with all the prisoners she had taken, I was left with six points. The game had been close, but the score was deeply lopsided.

She looked at me. "Are you upset?"

"No, Gwendolyn."

"You played exceedingly well. I would have won at nine, but at thirteen, you saw how it was going."

"Until I screwed up."

She smiled. "In the future, if you are ahead like this, and your opponent plays into your territory, assume she sees something you don't. Look for it."

I nodded.

"Do you know the questions to ask yourself?"

"Do I have two eyes? Do I have a weak point?"

She nodded.

We put the stones away, and she stood up, fetching her shopping bag from where she had left it in the kitchen. I got up to follow her, but she told me to sit. She came back and sat down on the coffee table, facing me, and pulled a coil of rope from her bag. She looked at me.

"You can say 'no', Pamela. I'll understand."

"Will it hurt?"

"No."

I held out my wrists with them crossed. She moved my hands so my arms were parallel in front of me instead. Then I watched as she folded the rope in half. She wrapped it around my wrists, just above the wrist bones, and fed the tails through the loop. She doubled it back on it self, wrapping the rope around my wrists several times.

I stared between what she was doing and her. I couldn't believe I was letting her do this. I couldn't believe how excited it was making me. I wet my lips. She glanced at my face and smiled.

She tucked the tail of the rope between my arms, then did a couple of wraps around the rope. She tied it off with the knot on the bottom where I couldn't see it. She smiled. "With the knot there, it is much more difficult to untie with your teeth."

I smiled nervously, then looked at my wrists.

It was actually rather pretty.

I felt vulnerable, like I was one of the prisoners she'd taken during the game. I looked up and she was watching me.

"Is that all right?" she asked. I nodded.

"I want to take a photo," she said.

"No!"

"Just of your wrists," she said. "No distinguishing marks. No one but you and I will know whose wrists they are. Please."

I thought about it. "All right," I said.

She pulled a small camera from her purse, and she had me arrange my wrists against the coffee table for a background. She took the photo and showed it to me.

"Oh god," I said.

"No one can tell whose wrists they are, and no one is going to recognize the coffee table background."

"Sam, Bonnie and Suzanne might."

"Might. If they saw it. And wondered. None of that is going to happen. May I keep this photo?"

I nodded.

She put her camera away before reaching down and grabbing my wrists by the loose piece of rope. She tugged me to my feet, then held my hands above my head and pulled me to her. I followed docilely, the urge to resist completely gone. I felt like her prisoner.

She pulled me into a deep kiss, her tongue immediately demanding attention. She invaded my mouth and explored. I could taste dinner, and desert, and Gwendolyn's unique taste.

She pulled me further to her, and her free hand snaked around, cupping my bottom, pulling me tighter to her, and squeezing. I moaned and squirmed.

She released my hands and wrapped the hand around me, under my arm, with her hand at the back of my head, guiding my mouth for her deepening, amazing kiss. With my arms bound the way they were, I had no choice but to either leave them there or bonk her over the head with my arms. I held my hands in the air where she had left them.

My knees started to sag, and she tightened her hold on me, holding me against her.

When she finally broke the kiss, I was panting and couldn't think, and I continued to sag in her arms. She held me up for a moment while I collected myself. I opened my eyes and stared into her eyes. She was smiling.

"Yes," I told her.

"Go slow?" she asked.

"No."

Her smile widened. She reached up and grabbed the free end of the rope and immediately turned towards my bedroom, pulling me behind her. I resisted just enough she had to tug me after her. She looked over her shoulder at me, grinning.

"Am I your prisoner?"

"Yes," she said. There was a small growl to it. She pulled me into the bedroom and pushed me against the wall next to the door, pushing my hands above my head. She held them there and said, "If your hands move, I will punish you."

"How?"

"You're not going to find out, are you?"

I looked down. "No."

She gave my hands one good push, then pressed her body against mine and was immediately kissing me again. She shifted, and her hand was on my breast. Her other hand caressed my cheek as she kissed me. I started to sag again, and she pressed more firmly against me, pinning me in place on the wall, one of her legs between mine.

She broke the kiss. "Are you all right?" she asked quietly.

"Don't stop." I paused. "I might panic."

"You won't," she said. Then her voice grew firm. "Do not move from that spot. Keep your hands right there."

She stepped away from me and looked around the room. "Candles. Where is a lighter?"

"Top dresser drawer on the left."

She crossed the room to the dresser, opened the drawer, and removed the lighter. She lit all the candles. She returned the lighter, then walked past me, turning out any lights that would spill into the bedroom. The bedroom overhead light was last.

She turned to me, standing several feet away, and studied me. I watched her, my eyes big and my heart pounding.

"I will never hurt you," she said.

"I know," I said in a small voice.

"I will stop if you ask, but only if I am sure you mean it."

I nodded.

"I will ask you if you are sure, if you ask me to stop. If you say yes, I will untie you and, if you want, hold you until you calm down, then I will leave. You can decide later if you wish to be friends after that."

She would leave, just like that?

"This is not about a toaster oven."

"There's no toaster oven," I said.

"You know what I mean. This is about you. And me. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

"You have one more date with Moira?"

I nodded.

She nodded back. "That's probably best," she said. "After tonight, I don't want to see you again until you've had your last date with Moira. Then I want to see you as soon after that, either as friends or lovers. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

"If you reject me tonight, I will be hurt, but I will forgive you. I want a friendship with you."

My heart caught in my throat. "I want that, too."

"You are very good for me," she said. "You don't know what that means to me." She smiled. "And my only go partner. If we are friends, we will still make wagers over go."

I nodded.

And then she began walking to me, very slowly, almost as if she were stalking me. I waited for her. Just before she touched me, I said, "Wait."

She froze.

"I don't know what to do."

She smiled. "I do."

And then she was kissing me, and I surrendered to her completely.

She reached behind me and unzipped my dress while still kissing me. She unsnapped my bra with her clever fingers. And then she broke the kiss at me. She looked up at my hands and down at my dress.

And she began laughing. "God, I'm an idiot."

I grinned. "I was wondering when you would realize your mistake."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'll buy you a new dress." She reached for the straps over my shoulders, and I could tell she was about to try to rip the seams.

"I like this dress," I told her. "But I'll let you retie my hands."

She looked at me. "I didn't think you would capitulate so quickly. I thought this would take a couple of hours. I figured binding your arms would make you more complacent."

"It did. Now stop messing around," I told her.

She laughed and untied my hands. She slipped the dress and bra off me, then I meekly held my hands for her to tie them again.

We were still giggling by the time she was done tying them. "If I ask a question," I said. "Would you lie to me?"

"No. I hate dishonesty."

"Did you do that on purpose so we'd have something to laugh about?"

"No. I really thought I'd have to tease you for a couple of hours first."

"I should have played hard to get?"

She growled.

I smiled. "Can you get the mood back?"

"Oh yes," she said, "I most certainly can." She immediately lifted my hands over my head, pulled me away from the wall, then used her other hand to spin me around and press me face first towards the wall. She did it so quickly I didn't have time to protest.

"Hey!"

She stepped up behind me and thrust a knee between my legs, pinning me against the wall with one leg, but still pressing my hands against the wall with her left hand. Her right came down and began caressing my bottom.

"I like your undies," she whispered into my ear.

"Mmmm," I said.

She ran a fingernail up my spine, and I squirmed. When she ran it back down my spine, her fingers slipped into my panties, and her fingers began teasing my tailbone.

"Oh god!" That was intense.

"If you move," she said, breathing into my ear. "I will stop."

"Oh god."

She released my hands and began touching my exposed skin with both hands. Soon she had me squirming under her touch, her delicious touch, and my heart was pounding so hard I was sure she could hear it. My brain was shutting down further and further, and all I could do was stand there, mentally begging her to take me.

I had never been with a woman. I had never been with a man that made me feel like this. I had never been with a man who was so focused on my pleasure.

"Please, Gwendolyn," I said. "You're driving me crazy."

"I've barely started, Pamela," she said. "You will beg a lot more than that before I'm done."

"Oh god! What will you make me do?"

I felt her smile against my neck. Her fingers continued to stroke me, her left hand now on my side, her right inside my panties, flicking against my tailbone.

"You will agree to let me do. Whatever. I. Want. To you."

"Oh god!" I squirmed again, and she shifted, sliding both feet between mine, then using her feet to spread my legs.

Then her hand slipped out of my panties and slipped between my legs. I jumped at the intrusion and hissed, and her hand was over my vulva, cupping me through my undies and hose. She ran a finger from front to back, causing me to jump and squeal.

"Oh god! Gwendolyn! Is this real?" I asked.

She kissed the back of my neck. "Yes, honey. This is real. Are you all right?"

"I don't know. I can't think. Oh god."

"Shhh," she said. "You are safe."

I was safe. This was Gwendolyn. I trusted her. I liked her. I wanted her.

"Hold me," I told her.

She immediately wrapped both arms around me as well as she could without releasing me from my position pressed against the wall, and I felt her body pressed against mine. She kissed the back of my neck again.

"Ohh," I said. She kissed me there again. I liked it. No one had ever kissed me there.

"Do I need to stop?"

"No! No no no!"

She kissed me again.

"This is real," I said quietly.

"This is real. A woman is making love to you. A woman who wants you very much, a woman you trust is making love to you."

Then her hand slipped down between us. She crouched down slightly, and I felt her fingers as they began tapping against my vulva. I squirmed and moaned, still pressed against the wall.

"Yes, yes, yes. Oh god."

"This is real," she said quietly. "I am making love to you, Pamela."

"No going back."

"No."

"I don't want to go back."

She stepped way from me and slipped her fingers inside my undies. She stripped my undies and hose down my legs. "Step out," she ordered, and one leg at a time, I stepped out of the last of my clothing. When I was done, I was wearing nothing but the rope around my wrists.

She kissed my tailbone and I almost jumped to the ceiling. So she did it again, using tongue this time, and I screamed a wordless sound.

The she kissed her way up my spine, and it was soothing and safe, and I almost sagged before she could slide her leg back between mine again, spreading my legs widely and pinning me back in place against the wall.

She reached the back of my neck.

"Are you going to do it like this?" I asked. "I'm not sure-"

"I'm getting you ready," she said. "This is too intense for your first time. In the future, you will scream my name in a variety of positions."

"Oh god."

Then her fingers were between us, sliding down, and I knew this was it.

She stopped at my tailbone again, and I thrashed against the wall.

Then she moved on, and I felt her hand between my legs.

"Oh god!" I said, even before her fingers parted me.

She slid her fingers along my slit, and what I had done last night was like nothing compared to how it felt when she did it.

"Gwendolyn!"

"You're safe," she said quietly.

"I know. Please. Take me."

"I will," she said. "You know I will."

She flicked her fingers and I jumped. She crouched a little, reaching further, and she found my clitoris.

I could feel my juices flowing out of me. I wondered if they were dripping into her hand. I started to blush at the thought, but then she kissed me again and said, "Oh god, you feel good."

Then she shifted, and withdrew her hand.

"No! Don't stop!"

But she spun me around and pushed me back to the wall, facing her this time, and her hand was immediately between my legs again while her lips found my mouth.

I moaned into the kiss and tried to press myself against her fingers. My only thoughts were, "take me, take me, take me."

She broke the kiss, then reached up and grabbed my wrists. She pulled away from me, her hand withdrawing from my clitoris, and she pulled me to the bed, pushing me onto it, then following after me, pulling me completely unto the bed. She roughly grabbed a pillow and shoved it under my head, then pushed my hands above my head.

"Move those, and I will tie them to the headboard."

"I won't move, Gwendolyn."

Then her lips were on my mouth and her hand, the one that had been between my legs, was tracing patterns on my nipple. It instantly sprang to attention, but the thought of her painting me in my own juices began to wig me out.

She broke the kiss.

"No." I said. "Eww."

"Shhh," she said

And she lowered her mouth to the nipple she had just been touching, pulling me into her mouth, and I exploded into a frenzy of squirms and a flurry of "oh god! oh god!"

Then her hand was back between my legs, and I spread for her, opening widely. Her clever, delicate surgeon fingers from my clitoris and I began panting her name.

Whatever was left of my brain finished shutting down, and all I could do was feel. I tried to thrust against her hand, wanting more, but she rode with it, then her teeth nipped me and I bucked in surprised.

She switched to the other nipple while her fingers slide down my slide.

"Enough! Finish it!" I ordered.

She broke away from my breast. "Soon, once you beg."

But her fingers slid into me, the way she'd had me do last night on the phone, and I began trying to buck against her hand. In response, she withdrew her hand.

"No!"

"Behave or I stop!"

"Oh god." I opened my eyes and stared at her. "Please. Please please please."

"For the rest of the night, I may do whatever I want to you?"

"Yes! Yes! Whatever you want!"

Her hand was immediately back between my legs, and her fingers slid inside me. Her thumb teased my clitoris while her fingers curled and clenched inside me.

"Yes, yes, yes," I said, panting.

"Say my name when you come," she ordered firmly. "Come now," she ordered. "Come for me."

And right on command, I did, the orgasm blowing through my entire body. I screamed her name, punctuated by "Yes, Gwendolyn, yes! Oh god yes!"

Finally, as my shudders subsided, her hands stilled, then withdrew, and she lay down on the bed next to me. She reached up to my hands and pulled them down so they were resting over my stomach, then pulled me into her arms, her head on the pillow.

I lay there, curled into her, panting and panting, shuddering from time to time with what she had done, my eyes still closed, my heart beating harder than I thought possible.

I calmed down over the next several minutes, and Gwendolyn kissed the top of my head.

We lay together for a while, her hands stroking my skin softly, not talking.

Finally I asked, "Gwendolyn?"

"Yes, Pamela?"

"Are you going to do that again?"

She chuckled. "Oh yes."

I burrowed in tighter to her.

"Are you going to untie me?"

"Only if you ask me to. I'd rather not. I like you this way."

I didn't say anything for a while. "Gwendolyn?"

"Yes, Pamela?"

"Why are you still wearing all these clothes?"

"I was too impatient to take them off."

"You could take them off now."

"Soon."

She pulled me more tightly against her.

"Gwendolyn?" I said several minutes later. She chuckled in her chest.

"Yes?"

"I'm not ready for round two."

"I didn't think you were."

"Would you like more chocolate and another game?"

"Will you accept another wager?"

"A small one, if it's going to be nine stones."

"Your wrists stay tied."

"All right."

"Eleven stones," she said.

I laughed.

"If I win, the next two orgasms involve tongue. My tongue first, then yours."

"Oh god," I said. "I don't know how."

"I'll teach you."

"All right. If I win, then the next orgasm is yours with my untied hands."

She thought about it. "All right," she said. "Only if you let me tie your hands again afterwards."

"All right. You'll have to teach me." I paused. "What if I can't?"

She kissed my head again. "I don't think that's likely to be a problem."

She helped me up, then wrapped the bedspread around me and led me to the living room. She stepped out in front of me and made sure the blinds were all closed and the doors locked.

"You sit," she said. "I'll get the torte."

"Half piece," I said.

"We'll split one."

While she was gone, I set the board up, then sat down on the sofa, stealing her place. She didn't seem upset by it.

"You look very cute, Pamela, bundled in the bedspread with your wrists still bound.

I smiled at her.

"Is your brain working yet?" she asked.

"We'll see."

She sat down, set the torte between us, made her first play, then picked up her fork and took a piece of the torte.

She won, but it was a very close game. When she totaled our score, I looked at her and said, "I'm getting better."

"You are." She smiled. "I am proud of you." Then she began grinning and stood up. She reached out and pulled me to my feet, and the bedspread stayed behind on the sofa.

"Hey!" I said, beginning to blush.

She didn't say a word but pulled me back to the bedroom. She shoved me onto the bed and began kissing me. She shoved me backwards onto the bed and arranged me, then began nipping my nipples while her hand immediately strode to my clitoris. I immediately began squirming.

She trailed a line of kisses, then apologized. "I'm sorry, but I don't have any patience left." Seconds later, her mouth was over my vulva, and I felt incredibly self-conscious.

What if I tasted bad? What if she didn't like it?

She lifted her head, "Oh my god!" she said. "I love the taste of straight girl!"

I laughed. "I don't think I'm straight anymore."

"Let me have my fantasies," she said, burying her face between my legs again.

She was very expert with her mouth. With just her lips, she parted me, then her lips and her tongue began to tease my clitoris, and I started to go frantic immediately. I was still sensitive from all the attention earlier, and it took very little time before I was panting with the sensations she was giving me.

Then she switched, and her tongue slid up and down my slit, offering new sensations, not as intense, but still very squirm-inducing.

Finally she thrust her tongue inside of me and somehow found a way to lip my clitoris a couple of times while doing it. She teased me like that for a while before switching back to my engorged, sensitive clitoris.

I moaned and squirmed and then the orgasm slipped into me, just a trickle at first, then an explosion.

"Gwendolyn," I moaned. "Gwendolyn. Oh god, Gwendolyn," I said quietly, desperately, my entire body surrendering to the waves of bliss she had given me.

She waited until I had subsided before moving back up me, kissing me, finally coming to my mouth.

She put her hands on both sides of my face, kneeling over me, and said, "This is what you taste like?" And she was kissing me.

I tasted myself on her mouth right away. At first I was grossed out a little, but the endorphins were still rushing through my body, and I became hungry for my taste from her mouth. I sucked on her tongue when she offered it, then flicked my tongue against her lips and teeth before she pulled away.

"You taste amazing," she said to me, collapsing down next to me.

"That seemed quick," I said, smiling over at her.

"It was. I was a little surprised, actually. I normally do better. Sorry."

"Don't be silly."

She let me lie still for a while, this time curling up into me as I lay on my back. We snuggled for a while.

"Gwendolyn?"

"Are we doing this again?"

"I surely hope so."

She reached over and pinched a nipple. "Ow!"

"Gwendolyn?"

She said. "Yes, Pamela?"

"Will you tell me what to do?"

"Yes."

"Will you untie me?"

"No."

"If I ask nicely?"

"No."

"I could untie myself."

"Try."

So I did.

It took me about three seconds to realize I couldn't remotely reach the knot with my fingers. Then I tried to reach it with my teeth, but I couldn't twist my arms around enough to reach. She stayed on her side with her head propped in her hand, watching me.

I tried using my teeth to slip the rope off my arms. I got nowhere.

Then I sat up and tried to use my toes. That got some real attention from her. I could tug on the knot, but I couldn't untie it.

Finally I turned to face her. "I could cut it off."

"Yes. Or possibly find a way to hook something into the knot and release it. But it's not like I'd let you do that." She paused. "If you ever cut one of my ropes off, and it's not some sort of emergency, I will probably be annoyed. If you are able to untie it without cutting it, it's my own fault."

I nodded.

I rolled onto my knees. "You're still wearing too many clothes."

She laughed.

"Will you teach me?"

"Yes."

She got up and told me to sit on the bed, then stepped away and began undressing while I watched. She started with her nylons and panties, sliding them down her legs and tossing them to casually join mine on the floor. Then she reached behind herself and unzipped the dress. She gave that a little more care, setting it on the chair with mine. Her bra joined the nylons and my bra on the floor. Then she stood in front of me. I licked my lips while staring at her.

"Tell me how you feel about this," she said.

"You're beautiful."

"I'm old."

"You're not old."

She stepped closer. "I am wrinkled, and I sag while you are still pert."

"I don't care."

"I will only get older."

"Will you get fat?"

"No, but I will sag more."

"I don't care. Do you?"

"Yes. I don't want to be ugly."

I sighed.

She paused. "I am a woman."

"Yes. I figured that out."

"Don't be pert. Would you rather a man was here doing these things with you?"

I looked at her. "I don't care what gender you are. I'm here with you."

She thought about it, then stepped closer and lowered her mouth to mine. It was a sweet, soft kiss, but I mewled into it anyway. She hugged me afterwards.

"I don't know what to do though," I said. "I've never really been invited as an active participant."

She stepped away and crouched down to look me in the eye. "Lie there and let him do what he wants?"

"That's all any of them seemed to want. Hold my legs up, make appreciative noises."

She sighed then stood up and kissed me. This time it was much more needy, and when she broke the kiss, I moved to her neck, then traced kisses across her shoulder. She tasted like, I don't know. She tasted delightful.

I moved my mouth to a breast, using my bound hands to cup it and hold it. My lips found the nipple, and I treated it very gently.

"If you are very careful," she said. "You can use your teeth. Just a little."

So I did, and she squirmed. "Yes, do that again." I did. "And your tongue." I flicked at her, then nipped before sucking more firmly.

"Ohh," she said. "Nice."

I felt her nipple become engorged in my mouth until I released it and moved to the other one. I treated that one the same as the first. She made sounds of appreciation.

I pulled away and looked at her. "If you fake, I won't know, and it will be your fault if I learn wrong."

"I never fake," she said, looking down at me. "Please don't stop."

I went back to what I was doing, but then I lowered my hands, sliding them along her skin, arching my back a little, then crouching to slide between her legs.

"Slow down," she said. "Take your time. We have all night."

I pulled away, and her breast dropped away from me. "I'm sorry," I said.

"Shhh. Keep kissing for a while."

So I did, kissing the gap between her breasts, then little teasing kisses across both breasts, then using my hands to help, back to her first nipple. I stretched and kissed the underside of her jaw, then waited for her to offer her lips.

I flicked my tongue against her lips, then invaded her mouth, and we moaned together.

She climbed onto the bed, sliding past me to lie down on her back, arranging a pillow. I pulled her hands, one at a time, above her head, and she opened her eyes, watching me, smiling.

"Close your eyes," I told her.

She did, and I briefly kissed each lid, then nuzzled her neck before letting my hands trace up and down her sides and across her belly, soft, fleeting touches.

"Tickles," she said.

I brushed her face with my hair and she giggled.

"Playful."

"Nervous."

"Don't be," she said. "Whatever happens now is fine. It's the journey that matters."

"But-"

She opened her eyes. "No. Whatever you do now is perfect. Soft, sweet, whatever feels good to you. You'll be able to tell if I enjoy it. Don't make an orgasm the goal. Just try to make me feel good. I might orgasm, I might not, but it will feel good, and that's what matters."

I smiled, kissed her lips briefly, and she closed her eyes.

I spent a long time stroking her, humming to her, and kissing her. I teased her nipples and kissed her pelvis. I stuck my tongue inside her belly button, which made her giggle. I left a row of kisses down the outside of one leg, then snuggled and kissed her feet a while. She seemed to like that quite a lot.

"You like this?"

"Yes." She paused. "Kissing my feet is submissive."

I kissed them some more and she moaned.

"You can nip gently," she said.

So I did, very gently. She squirmed, but she seemed to like it.

On the way back up, I kissed the inside of her legs. As I got closer to her center, she spread them for me. I kissed up the inside of one leg, but then kissed against the bone of her pelvis. "Not yet," I told her.

She whimpered.

"Soon."

I gave her nipples more attention, then her lips, then nipped her shoulder very gently.

I stroked her with my hands, drawing closer and closer to her crotch, but with them bound, I couldn't use my fingers effectively. I think she knew that. She smiled when I tried.

"What are you going to do about that?"

"Ask you to untie me."

"No."

"I would be better with my hands. You were."

"You were too ready. I had barely gotten started. You surprised me. I can hold you at the peak forever until you'll promise anything."

"With just your mouth?"

"I guess not. I use my hands, too."

"Untie me."

"No. Do what you can while still bound. Whatever you do is enough. I like you bound."

So I kissed her, then traced a line of kisses directly down her middle until I was poised over her center. I could smell her musk wafting up to me. I bent over and kissed once, and she spread her legs.

And for the first time in my life, I looked directly at another woman's sex, from a much closer position than I've ever seen my own. I set my mouth over her, and she squirmed.

I took some practice, but I finally parted her labia and found her clitoris waiting for me.

She was wet with her juices, and she tasted sweet and musky, and I suddenly needed to fill myself with her taste. I began sucking and slurping, running my tongue from her clitoris all the way down her slit as far as I could, filling my mouth with her taste before returning to her clitoris to tease it with lips and tongue.

"No biting," she said. "But oh, that is so nice."

She squirmed and flinched, then said, "Yes, more, just like that. Suck harder."

Soon she was squirming and panting before she said, "Can you slide your tongue into me?"

I lowered my mouth and stuck my tongue out as far as I could, slipping into her vagina, wriggling it. I need fingers would be better, but she jerked and thrashed, then said, "Now the clit. Pamela, now, please."

I moved to her clitoris again, flicking my tongue against it a few times before wrapping my lips around it and sucking and teasing.

Then she reached down with a hand and pressed my face more firmly into her crotch, guiding me slightly, but mostly just asking for more pressure. I gave it to her, and her panting increased.

"Yes. Yes. Pamela. Oh god. Yes. Oh. Oh. Oh...."

And then I felt a small flood of fresh juices coat my mouth, I inhaled them and continued to suck until the pressure on the back of my head relaxed, and she fell still.

Slowly I withdrew from her, kissing her softly.

She had tasted amazing.

"I know I wasn't very good," I said.

"Shh," she said. "Don't ruin the buzz. Kiss me."

I shifted and kissed her. She sucked her taste greedily from my mouth, then I collapsed next to her, snuggling into her.

We both fell asleep.

* * *

I woke some time later. Gwendolyn was pulling out from underneath me.

"Please don't go," I told her.

"Bathroom," she said. "Am I invited to stay?"

"Yes. Untie me?"

"No."

Then she disappeared into my bathroom. I squirmed under the covers and was waiting for her when she came back, carrying my comforter. She spread it over the bed, walked around the room blowing out candles, then slipped between the sheets with me.

She pulled me into her arms, and I cuddled up to her.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Regrets?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"No." I paused. "Was that an eleven?"

She burst out laughing. "I highly doubt it," she said after a moment. "Probably a five."

"I'm talking about the one you gave me."

"I know you are. Maybe a five."

"No way? That was more than a five. Well, the first one."

"A six at the most," she said. "But probably a five."

"I was the recipient," I told her. "And I will be the judge."

She kissed my head. "Trust me on this. First time, and you were uptight, and I was impatient. You weren't ready for me to use my mouth. I didn't use any toys except the ones on your wrists. Five."

"Seven."

"Five. Barely. And honey, the scale. It's logarithmic."

"You are so full of shit!"

"Did you pass out?"

"Of course not."

"That eleven Bonnie talks about?"

"She passed out?"

"Yep. Scared me for a minute, but I checked her and she was fine, then she came to and couldn't say anything but 'oh wow, oh wow' for ten minutes. It's rare, but it has a name. Orgasmic syncope."

"Full of shit."

"Wager."

I shut up for a moment. "All right, wager."

"If I win, your wrists stay tied until morning, at which point I release you, and you cook breakfast for me."

"All right."

"If you win, it's your choice when I untie your wrists, but I'll give you a massage when you're ready to go back to sleep."

"Deal. I'll go get my laptop."

I climbed out of bed, found my laptop, returned to sit on the bed, and opened the computer. I entered my password and slid the computer around to face Gwendolyn.

She sat up, did a web search, then said, "There. Orgasmic syncope."

I read the article.

"It says it's very rare."

"Do you really want to call Bonnie and ask her?"

"No," I said in a small voice.

She smiled in the light from the laptop. "Put this away and come back to bed, my little prisoner-for-the-night."

"Yes, jail keeper."

I put the laptop in the other room then crawled back under the covers with her. We kissed a little, and she stroked me sensuously, and then I was asleep.

Morning After

"Good morning, little prisoner," Gwendolyn said in the morning. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, I did." I smiled, yawned, and stretched as much as I could with my wrists still bound. I looked at them, then curled up under the covers again.

"Regrets?"

"No. Again?"

She laughed. "No. Today is Moira's day, isn't it?"

I pouted.

She gave me a quick peck of a kiss.

"What was that?"

"Morning breath kiss."

I laughed. "Fair enough."

"One of us has already dealt with that issue, but I know if I gave you a proper kiss, you would freak when you realized. Eww! You kissed me with morning breath."

I laughed again. "You know me well."

"Go on," she said. "Go use the bathroom, brush your teeth, run a brush through your hair, and come back and cuddle."

"Yes, Mistress," I said, trying to drip just a hint of sarcasm into my voice.

She laughed. "Not hardly. Go on."

So I did, then slithered back under the covers and received a proper kiss. "Oh, minty mouth," she said afterwards.

"I know what I'd rather taste like," I told her, starting to kiss my way down her body. She hauled me back up.

"Behave."

We cuddled together for a few minutes, not saying anything. Then she said quietly, "We have no promises between us."

"We have some. I owe you breakfast."

"All right, you owe me breakfast."

"And whatever happens, we both want a friendship afterwards. Is that still true?"

"Yes. I want you in my life." She paused. "It may be friends, but if so, I want it to be close friends."

"Not lovers?"

She kissed my head. "Maybe as lovers, but you may decide you and Moira fit better. Or now that you know what is possible, you may go back to boys."

"So no promises right now," I said.

"One promise. Honesty."

"Yes." I glanced at the clock. It wasn't quite nine. "Are you in a hurry?"

"We're not making love this morning."

"Go over breakfast?"

"Oh, lovely thought. And did you think of a wager?"

"Eleven stones?"

She paused. "Ten."

"Afraid to let me win?"

"One stone is about fifteen points. Do you think if we played that game again last night, you'd get another fifteen points?"

"Let's discuss the wager first then. If I win, you invite me to watch you operate. What do you want if you win?"

"That's what you want?"

I nodded at her. She kissed my forehead. "Eleven stones. If I win, I get to be there when you tell Bonnie what we did Thursday night and last night."

"Those two aren't remotely equal winnings."

"I know. It's all I could think of that didn't involve sex."

I laughed. "All right. Deal."

I held out my wrists to her.

"What?" she asked.

"Untie please."

"What if I don't want to?"

"I'm not going into the kitchen with my hands tied. It wouldn't be safe for anything more than toast."

She reached for my wrists. It took her seconds to release me. Then she massaged my skin where the ropes and left little serpentine marks. I stared at them.

"Those will be gone in a while," she said. "Long before you arrive at Moira's."

I smiled and kissed her before climbing out of bed. "Did you want to shower?"

"No, I can do that later."

I retrieved a silk robe for her. It was way too small for her, and she looked really cute in it. She slipped her undies on. I put on a robe and a fresh pair of undies, and we walked out to the living room. Gwendolyn collected the go set on the way.

Started a fresh pot of coffee then raided the refrigerator, moving ingredients to the counter. I found bell peppers, onions eggs, some lovely sausages from Byerly's, and a large, uneaten baked potato.

I cut everything up. "This is going to be a little decadent."

"Decadent is good."

I made fried breakfast potatoes with onions and did an egg scramble with the peppers and sausages. "Sorry, no cinnamon rolls."

She laughed.

Everything just took a few minutes, and I spread the breakfast between two plates. We moved to the dinette table with our plates and coffee. Gwendolyn had already set up the board and made her first play.

I was ahead until the end. I could tell that Gwendolyn was playing to win; she always does. But she seemed please by how well I was doing. Then she looked at me. "You can watch me operate any time you want, honey. But I'm sorry." She made a play into my territory.

"No way!" I said. I looked at it. I looked at her. "I'm winning."

"You were," she said. "Suddenly you aren't."

"I don't even see it." I kept looking, then I realized I had two weak points. I looked at her.

"Am I bluffing?"

"No."

"Show me."

I pointed out the two weak points.

"Can you protect both of them?"

I shook my head.

"What are you going to do?"

"Cry?"

"Oh honey," she said.

"Psych." I made the least devastating play and lost by fifteen points.

"I wanted you to win," Gwendolyn said. "Although I am looking forward to my winnings. I will happily let you watch me operate, though."

"I don't know if I can tell her.

"Will she be that upset?"

"No, but I'll die of embarrassment."

Gwendolyn laughed, a deep laugh full of joy. I joined her shortly.

We put the game away and stood up then walked back to the bedroom. We both got quiet while Gwendolyn began dressing.

"You must be used to this part," I said.

"I guess," she said. "It's different when you go into it just for the sex. That isn't what we're about though."

"What are you going to do with your toaster oven?"

"Donate it to charity."

I smiled. "I'm glad to have helped charity again."

"You are an angel that way."

And then she was dressed and back in the living room, putting on her shoes. She collected her game. "Don't forget your rope."

"Keep it," she said. "You never know when you might need it."

I smiled.

Then I stepped into her arms. We didn't kiss, but just held each other. "Thank you for being so kind," I told her.

"Thank you for being so amazing," she said in reply. "I'm glad Moira suggested it this way. One date wouldn't have been enough."

"No, it wouldn't. I would have been a lot more uptight, assuming you were going to seduce me."

"But I did seduce you."

"Only after I had gotten used to the idea."

And then she kissed me, softly and sweetly.

"Bye," she said.

"No. Not bye."

She smiled and hugged me once more then tried to pull away.

"Find another word!" I ordered.

"I'll call you."

"Better." I squeezed her, and then she was gone.

* * *

I went from deliriously happy to on the edge of tears in seconds, staring at the closed door. She sounded like she didn't expect to see me again. Was that it? Was that all she wanted from me?

Maybe it was. She went through a lot of women, from what I could tell. Maybe I was just another notch on her rope.

I found my phone and texted Sam. "If you can, please come over." Then I headed to the kitchen and began a proper cleanup. I got a reply a few minutes later. "Out with Suzanne. We can both come, or I can call later."

"Please come, if it's not a bother," I sent back.

"On our way," came the reply nearly immediately. "Twenty minutes."

I thought about popping into the shower but thought if I started crying in there, I wouldn't be done by the time they got here. I went to the bedroom, hid the worst of the evidence, especially the rope, and pulled on jeans and a tee shirt. Then I went back to the kitchen. I was almost done cleaning by the time Sam and Suzanne arrived.

They rang and entered like they normally do.

"Kitchen," I yelled. The both came through together. I set the dish towel down and turned to face them.

"Hey," said Sam. She and Suzanne were holding hands, but Suzanne didn't say anything.

I smiled wanly. "I'm sorry I'm a pain in the ass."

Sam let go of Suzanne's hand and cross the room to me, pulling me into a hug. She squeezed tightly.

Both of them had been in my home so much, they knew they were supposed to help themselves. Suzanne pulled out mugs and poured coffee, adding cream from the refrigerator, then spied the bread and pulled that out. She carried everything to the living room with Sam and I following, Sam's arm around my shoulder. She set me down on the couch, and then I had one sitting on either side of me.

"Gwendolyn just left," I said.

Sam began squealing her ass off and hugging me.

"How was it?" she asked once she had calmed down.

"Amazing."

"So why the long face?"

"On the way out the door, she said 'bye'."

Sam's face fell. "Oh honey." And she was hugging me again. I started crying quietly.

"Stop this," Suzanne ordered. "You are jumping to conclusions. Stop it, right now."

"Leave her alone," Sam said.

"No. She's jumping to conclusions. So are you. We need the whole story."

Sam was silent while I cried quietly.

"Honey," Sam said. "She's right. We need the whole story."

"I'm not telling you about the sex," I said.

"You will, eventually, but I bet you know more you're not telling us."

I pulled away. "I have my last date with Moira tonight."

"Oh hell," Suzanne said. "You are totally jumping to conclusions. She was just making sure you knew it was okay. If. You know."

"If Moira seduces me?"

"Yes. There's more though?"

I nodded to her. "She said before she really started, you know."

"Driving you insane with desire?"

"Oh no, I was already insane with desire," I said grinning. "I wasn't, however, quite naked yet." I paused. "She told me that whatever happens, she wants a real friendship. She said I have a lot to figure out."

"You are such a doofus," Suzanne said. "Dry your tears." She ripped off a hunk of the bread and stuffed it into her mouth. "Oh my god, the rosemary bread!" She closed her eyes and chewed with relish.

I turned to Sam. "She's right," Sam told me. "Dry your tears. She didn't just tell you it was a one-night-stand. She told you exactly what she said. You have a date with Moira tonight, and no one knows how that is going to go."

"All right." I paused. "You can't tell Bonnie a single word."

She smiled. "Oh that isn't going to be easy."

I explained the wager.

"Wait. Phone sex?"

I immediately began blushing, then told her about Moira's call afterwards. The two of them were in tears listening to the story.

"All right, we came to your rescue," Suzanne said. "At great inconvenience to us." To belie her words, she popped more bread into her mouth, then talked around it. "And it wasn't for your bread." Then she acted as if she were having an orgasm while eating it.

"Knock it off," I told her, giggling.

"You owe us. Three questions."

"Oh hell."

"She's right," Sam said. "Three questions."

"Fine."

"No lying," Suzanna said. "Did you eat her out?"

"I don't even know what that means, so probably not."

They both laughed, then Suzanne said, "Did you shove your tongue into her vagina?"

I immediately began blushing and nodded.

"Say, 'Yes, Suzanne, I ate out Gwendolyn'."

"I am not saying that!" I said, blushing even harder.

"Say it. Say it. SAY IT!"

"Fine! Yes, Suzanne, I ate out Gwendolyn."

The two began cackling. Then it was Sam's turned. "Did you like doing it?"

"Oh god."

"Now you say, 'Yes, Sam, I enjoyed eating out Gwendolyn'."

"You two are so crude!"

"Say it."

I sighed. "Yes, Sam, I enjoyed eating out Gwendolyn."

"She's gay," said Suzanne matter-of-factly. "Pay up."

"I never agreed to that wager," Sam said.

"You never said no. Pay up."

"Damnit." She got down on her knees in front of Suzanne and kissed both of her feet. "You were right. My best friend is gay, and I didn't know it."

"You two are terrible," I said. I reached over and pulled the loaf of bread out of Suzanne's hand and tore a hunk off. Sam got off the floor, sat back down, and stole the loaf from me, tearing off a chunk for herself.

"Last question," said Suzanne. She paused, exchanging some sort of silent communications with Sam. "Did it especially excite you when she tied you up?"

"Oh hell! How did you know she tied me up?"

Suzanne began giggling. "I didn't. Thank you for answering two questions at once."

"Yes, Suzanne, it excited me quite a lot when she tied me up."

"She's a sub," Suzanna said. "Pay up."

"Damn it, Pamela," Sam said.

"It's not my fault," I told her. "You're the one making wagers."

Sam leaned back against the sofa. I had no idea what she was going to do to pay this time. Suzanna got up and crossed over to Sam's side, crawling over her lap to straddle her lover. Then she opened two buttons of Sam's blouse before fastening her mouth to Sam's shoulder, just barely hidden by the blouse if fully buttoned.

"Get a room," I told them.

I heard sucking sounds.

"That's enough!" Sam said, after a minute. Suzanna just held on tighter for another minute before she pulled away.

She admired her handiwork. "What do you think, Pamela? Looking forward to receiving a few of these yourself?"

I glanced at the love bite.

"I can't believe you just did that in front of me."

"I'm not the one who got tied up last night," Suzanne said to me. "Kinky girl."

I began blushing again.

"Don't tease her," Sam said. "She's had her first lesbian lover. She has a lot to absorb."

"Sounds like she absorbed an awful lot last night," Suzanna replied.

I buried my face in my hands. They both giggled at me.

Then Suzanna climbed off Sam's lap and sat down on the other side of her. "All better?" She asked.

"Yes," I told her. "Thank you."

"You are welcome." She glanced at her watch. "I will expect another frantic call in another fourteen to twenty-four hours."

"Oh god. I'm sorry I'm a pain in the ass."

She waved it away. "You've helped us, and we owe you for what you did for us anyway." She paused. "But friends don't keep score. We're here for you, and you're here for us."

I looked at her. "That means a lot to me."

She smiled. "I wasn't sure about you when Sam and I started dating. I thought you would get between us. You haven't. Just the opposite. I'd like to think we're good friends, Pamela."

"I like to think so, too."

"All right," Suzanne said. "Crisis averted?"

"Yes."

"Then we'll take that," she said, grabbing the loaf of bread. "And be on our way."

I laughed. "Enjoy."

I saw them out the door, receiving hugs from each. "Make sure you do everything we might do tonight," Sam said.

I began blushing again.

Panic

I arrived at Moira's at four. Her house was fabulous! The kitchen was to die for. She ended the tour, and I stopped and stared when I entered.

"You like?" she asked quietly.

"Yes."

"I thought you might. Think you can cook here?"

"I'll find a way to force myself."

I had dressed in a spring dress. It was more casual than the LBD I'd worn for Gwendolyn. And I had brought my own apron. I looked nice, but less intense than the night before. Still, I had gotten an amazing kiss at the front door and felt very welcome in Moira's home.

We shared the kitchen well. Moira was doing most of the cooking and directed me as to what she wanted. We both went out of our way to pass near the other frequently, and her touches as she went past me grew increasingly bold. When she came up behind me and laid her hand on my ass, instead of chasing her away, I wriggled for her.

She smiled at me.

I found myself comparing the two women. Gwendolyn was so intense and hard to resist. I couldn't stop thinking about the way she tied me up. But we had almost nothing in common. Moira was so much easier to be around, and we fit amazingly well. I thought a relationship with her would be far less tumultuous.

Of course, neither of them had invited me into a relationship yet. I may find I don't have an option on either of them.

I had long stopped worrying about labels like gay or straight. I liked both of them, I liked them a lot, and they both treated me far better than I had ever been treated before.

I wondered how Moira felt. I wondered what Gwendolyn was doing.

Finally everything was done that needed doing. It would all come out of the oven shortly, and it was time to eat. Moira turned to me. "Care to dance?"

"Really?"

Her iPad was sitting on the counter. She did something with it, and tango music came over speakers I hadn't even seen.

"Ohh," I said, immediately melting into her arms. She pulled me closely, and we began dancing slowly around the kitchen, circling the center island.

We fit so well. After what Gwendolyn and I had done for the last two days, this was in some ways anti-climactic, but it was nice, so nice. I didn't think I'd ever have this with Gwendolyn.

I wouldn't have the cooking, either. I would be the cook for both of us.

"What are you thinking about?" Moira asked me. "You seem distracted."

"I'm trying to figure out what I am doing," I told her.

"Dancing with me. That's all that matters right now."

"Mmm," I said, realizing she was right. And that was when our dance clicked in, and it was wonderful.

We danced two songs before it was time to stir the sauce, but we stood at the stove together, arms wrapped around each other, each checking on things.

Over dinner, she told me funny realtor stories until I was laughing so hard, I had tears running down my cheeks. "Stop it!" I said. "I'm ruining my makeup."

Instead, she started in on another story.

She finally relented, then reached over and dapped my face for me. "There," she said. "Now you just look like I beat you."

"I do not!"

"You can fix it later."

"Oh god."

She smirked at me.

We finished dinner and cleaned up. "What's the plan now?"

"Cuddle up in front of the fireplace with our desserts," she said. And so, ten minutes later, we were sitting on a sofa immediately in front of a fire, my legs draped over her lap, each of us holding a dessert.

We took turns trying to make the other one laugh while we ate our little desserts. When we were both done, she took my plate from me and set both of them on and end table to her right. Then we sat on the sofa and talked quietly. She began rubbing and caressing my feet, and I closed my eyes, enjoying the attention.

"I feel guilty," I said after several minutes. "I should be doing this for you."

"I like touching you," she said. "Relax and enjoy the attention."

I smiled without opening my eyes. "Yes, Moira."

"That's right," she said.

Her hands started roaming further afield than my feet. I received caresses on my arm and on my legs. When she slid her hands under my dress, still caressing my legs, I didn't stop her.

"That feels nice," I said dreamily.

"I thought you might enjoy it."

She continued to stroke and caress me, which both relaxed me and woke me up at the same time. I squirmed a little, then opened my eyes a crack. She was smiling at me.

"You're amazing," I told her.

"So are you."

I closed my eyes again for several minutes. Her touch was hypnotic, and I found myself growing very complacent. I finally asked her, "Are you going to seduce me tonight?"

"Would you stop me?"

"No."

She leaned towards me and caressed my face. "Do you want me to?"

I opened my eyes and looked at her, then nodded. She smiled.

"Close your eyes, Pamela," she ordered. I obeyed immediately.

"Leave them closed."

I nodded.

"Whatever happens, do not open your eyes."

"What if I want to watch you?"

"You are not allowed."

"Mmmm?"

"That's right."

She continued to caress me, and I was ready to let her do whatever else she wanted. "So nice," I said.

"We're going to go upstairs," Moira said. "You will keep your eyes closed. If you think you are unable to obey, tell me now."

"I will obey," I replied.

She slid my legs off her lap, stood up, and pulled me to my feet. Then she led me upstairs, and I knew she had drawn me to her room.

"Please kiss me, Moira."

She pulled me into her arms and kissed me very thoroughly. I moaned into the kiss, and I realized I wanted her desperately. I wanted everything she represented. I wanted the dance, and the adventures, and the cooking together. I wanted a relationship that was easy, with someone who fit.

I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her tightly to me, moaning into the kiss.

Then she broke the kiss and whispered into my ear, "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"We don't have to do this."

"Please, Moira. I want you." I paused. "Unless this is a one-night-stand. I don't want that."

"It's not," she said. "It's not."

I felt her fingers at the back of my dress. She found the clasp and the zipper, and then she slid it off my shoulders and it fell to the floor.

She kissed me again before she removed my bra. Then she slipped my undies and panties from my legs, and I stood before her, naked. She pulled me into her arms again.

"You are so lovely," she whispered. "I want you."

"Take me."

I heard her own clothing slither down her body.

"May I look?"

"No."

"Please."

"No."

"Please, why not?"

"I am old."

"No," I said. "You are perfect."

She pulled me into her arms and drew me to the bed, pressing me against the pillows. "I am going to blindfold you," she told me.

"Let me look first."

"I'll scare you."

"You don't really believe that."

"I am hideous."

"You are lying."

"If you open your eyes, I will be upset," she said. "I am going to blindfold you now." And then I felt something slide down over my eyes. She kissed me softly.

"Honey?"

"Shhh," she said, and she began stroking me.

"Let me touch you at least."

"Not this time," she said. "Hands at your sides." She pressed my hands where she wanted them, then she shifted, and she was kneeling over me. "If you move, I will tie you up."

I giggled.

"You think I'm bluffing?"

"No."

Then she kissed me, and her hand was on my breast. I arched my back, shoving my breast into her hand, and her lips took me in her mouth.

It didn't take long until I was squirming under her touch. Then, soon, her hands strayed closer and closer to my center, then a brief touch. She was kissing me, her hand resting over my vulva, pressing lightly.

And I thought about Gwendolyn.

I had let Gwendolyn do this to me, not Moira. I'd been dating Moira, but I'd had sex with Gwendolyn.

Or I was dating Gwendolyn, but I was letting Moira take me.

My heart rate went through the ceiling, and I knew whatever was about to happen, I had already either already cheated on Moira or was about to cheat on Gwendolyn.

"Oh god," I said. I started to cry into the blindfold. "Oh god. Oh god."

I was a big cheat and a tease. This was wrong, or last night was wrong.

"Honey?"

"I can't. Oh god, Moira, oh god."

And I pushed away from her, swiped the blindfold from my eyes, and couldn't look at her as I ran for my clothes. I didn't find them all, I didn't care, I pulled the dress on while hopping down the stairs, screaming, "I can't, oh god, Moira, I'm so sorry!"

And I was gone with my purse and my dress barely covering my shoulders, unzipped. I'd left my shoes, half my clothes, and the supplies I'd brought to cook.

And I left the woman I loved behind, the woman who must now surely hate me.

I got in the car and drove as fast as I could.

"I'm a cheat!" I yelled. "A cheat. Oh god!"

I don't know how I made it. I could barely see, and I should have had several accidents on the way, but I arrived at Sam's, flying to the door, banging on it, yelling for her, sobbing.

The door opened, and I flew to her, sobbing uncontrollably. I felt arms around me, and I heard Suzanne asking, "What happened? Pamela, are you okay? What happened?"

"Where are your shoes? Pamela?"

And then we were on the sofa, Sam was holding me, and I was sobbing into her shoulder, screaming, "I'm a cheat, a cheat," and sobbing.

It took a long time for them to calm me down, barely, enough to say, "I slept with the wrong one. Oh god, Moira hates me! I left her like that, she hates me, she said she's hideous and wouldn't let me look at her, and then I realized I had cheated on her, and I slept with the wrong one!"

And then I was sobbing again.

I didn't register when Suzanne left the room. I clutched at Sam, who stopped trying to calm me down, she just held me while I cried.

Slowly, I grew numb. Moira hated me, she had every right, how could I have been so horrible to her? How could she want me when I was so horrible.

Slowly, Sam started asking questions.

"Did you physically hurt Moira?"

"No."

"Did she physically hurt you?"

"No."

She hugged me.

"Did she say she hated you?"

"No."

I got another hug.

"What happened?"

"We had dinner, and then we were cuddling, and she was stroking me. It felt so nice." I sniffled, and Suzanne was there with tissues. I blew my nose and dried my eyes. "I asked her to seduce me. So she told me to close my eyes and pulled me to her bedroom. She wouldn't let me look. She blindfolded me."

"Did that bother you?" Sam asked quietly.

"I don't know why she wouldn't let me look. She wouldn't let me touch, either." I looked at Sam. "She said she's hideous, but she's not. She's beautiful. Why would she say that?"

"That's for her to tell," she said. "She's not hideous. Then what happened, if you were okay with the blindfold?"

"She was touching me, and then she touched me. Um." I looked down in my lap.

"And you freaked out?"

I nodded.

"Why? You didn't freak when Gwendolyn made love to you."

"That's why!" I said, sobbing again and burying my face in her shoulder. "I made love to the wrong one! I cheated on Moira, or if I let Moira touch me, I was cheating on Gwendolyn."

"Oh, you idiot!"

It was Moira's voice. I looked up. Suzanne was closing the door. I stared at Moira.

"You must hate me," I said. "I'm so sorry."

"You stupid girl," she said, walking over to crouch down in front of me.

"I know," I said. "I'm so sorry, Moira." I turned to Suzanne. "Can you refund her money?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Moira snapped. "She will do no such thing. And you are going to listen to me."

Neither Sam nor Suzanne was moving. They were frozen while Moira crouched down in front of me, but I tried to bury my shameful face in Sam's shoulder. Moira reached out and pulled me off of Sam and made me face her, her hand firmly clenching my chin. "Look at me and listen to me, Pamela," she said firmly. "I knew."

"Knew what?"

"That you had slept with Gwendolyn. She told me."

"What?"

"This morning. She drove straight from your place to mine."

"Why?"

"Because she told you goodbye at your door."

I turned to Sam. "I told you!" I said, starting to sob again. "She needs me, but she doesn't want me. That's how bad I was."

"Oh for crying out loud," Moira said. "She came to me and told me how bad she would be for you, that she would crush your spirit, but that you might pick her because she needs help, and you think you can give it to her. She wants it so desperately, and she won't be able to be strong, but she would crush your spirit trying to fix her."

"She needs me," I said quietly.

"She needs therapy."

"You don't know what you're talking about!" I told her fiercely.

"Yes, honey, I do. She told me a story. She said she told it to you, and that you and I were the only ones she ever told. Do you know what story?"

I nodded. "She told you? All of it?"

"Yes. More than she told you. She also said she's going to get the therapy she needs. She knows it will take a long time."

Moira paused, watching me.

I looked away now, numb inside again, but she forced me back to look at her.

"I cheated on you," I said. "And then I was horrible to you."

"You were a little horrible," she said. "But now I understand why, and I can forgive that. But you're an idiot."

"I cheated," I said quietly.

She sighed. "Was I clear that I wanted you to have your last date with Gwendolyn before our last date?"

"Yes."

"And last weekend, when you were practically throwing yourself at me, did I stop you?"

"Yes."

"Do you know why?"

"No."

"Because I knew Gwendolyn would seduce you, and I knew I would be horribly jealous if you had sex with anyone after you and I had. But you and I haven't yet. Until you stormed out of my house, everything since the auction has gone exactly how I would have wanted it to, Pamela."

I stared at her. "You don't hate me?"

"I'm a little upset with you, but I don't hate you."

Then I looked away, and she let me.

"Pamela," she said. "Did you like what we were doing?"

I turned back to her. "Yes."

"Is this confusion the only reason you left?"

"Yes."

"So if we'd had this conversation earlier, would you be in my bed right now, begging for me?"

I smiled wanly. "Yes."

She paused, took a breath. "You will never, ever, EVER leave me like that again. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Moira. I'm sorry."

"You will never flee when you should communicate. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Moira."

"Do we understand each other?"

"Why wouldn't you let me look at you?"

"Oh honey, I'm hideous."

"Stop saying that!"

She sighed and began unbuttoning her blouse. She shrugged out of it. She wasn't wearing a bra, and I saw the scars. She had scars across her stomach and one breast.

"Do they hurt?" I asked after a moment?

"No."

"May I touch?"

She nodded.

I reached out and ran a finger along one of the scars. I avoided her breasts. We had an audience, after all. I looked at Sam. "You knew?" She nodded. So did Suzanne. I looked back at Moira. "What happened?"

"Crazed girlfriend. She was screaming 'bitch, bitch' at me while she was doing it."

"That's why you hate that word."

"Yes." Moira paused. "She nearly killed me. She is institutionalized now and probably will be for the rest of her life."

I looked up at her face. "I don't think you are hideous. I think you are beautiful. I wish this hadn't happened to you, but you will never hide this from me again. Do we understand each other?"

She smiled. She pulled her blouse back on and buttoned it slowly.

I looked between the three of them. "I'm such a drama queen."

"Not usually," Suzanne said. "This is the last time, I bet."

Sam pulled me to her and kissed my cheek. "All better?"

"I don't know." I looked at Moira. "Do you still want me in your life?"

"Hell, yes," she said. She stood up and held a hand out. "Let's go home."

Surprise

It was our six month anniversary, sort of. The first Saturday afterwards. I was still in a state of bliss from what Moira and I had been doing the night before. We were tangled together in the bed.

"What are we doing today?" I asked her. "Do you have to work?"

"Nope. I have a day scheduled with you. I have a few surprises for you."

"Really?"

"I bought you a present."

My face fell. "Oh. I didn't buy you anything."

She kissed me gently. "You are going to love it."

"What is it?" I asked.

"No prying. Get up and go shower."

"Come with me," I said, leering at her.

"If I do, we won't get out of the house until after lunch, and I don't want to wait. Go shower, then you will make us breakfast while I shower. Dress casual."

"Will we be outside?"

"Dress casual."

"Where are we going?"

"Pamela," Moira said. "If you ask one more question, I will.."

"You'll what?" I said, feeling very playful.

"Go to work."

"Oh hell," I said. I climbed out of bed and headed for the shower.

* * *

As she usually did, she held the door for me as I stepped into her car. Then she handed me a blindfold.

"Seriously?"

"Yes. Don't argue. You know you're going to wear it, because we won't go anywhere until you put it on."

I slipped it over my eyes. It was a proper blindfold, which meant I couldn't see a thing even out of the edges.

"You are in too playful of a mood. Promise me you won't cheat."

"I won't cheat, Moira."

"Pamela, I put an amazing amount of effort into this surprise, and you absolutely will not ruin it."

"I promised. Have I ever broken a promise to you?"

"No, you haven't." Then I felt her step closer. "This is my iPod. Put the ear buds in."

"All right," I said. "But why? I want to talk to you, not listen to music."

"I want to drown out the sounds, too."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. You are going to sit quietly and let me drive us where we are going. You may wonder about where we're going all you want, but you will not peek and you will make sure the ear buds stay in. Slip them under the strap from the blindfold to be sure."

"I'll be able to hear during breaks," I said.

"I have a one hour sound sample of nighttime forest noises without a single break. There's a thunderstorm and other sounds, but no silence."

"You've thought of everything. Do I get a kiss first?"

I felt her hand on my chin, and she held me for a kiss. It was soft and sweet, but when I got playful, she pulled away.

"Aww..."

"Will you behave?"

"Yes, Moira. I'll behave."

"Put the ear buds in."

I reached out, and she put one ear bud into each hand. I adjusted my grip then slipped them into my ears, sliding them under the straps for the blindfold.

"All right, now, I am going to trust you. You know the controls on this. I will hit play, but then you will adjust the volume until you couldn't hear a lawn mower outside the car. Turn it up as loud as you can without it hurting."

"Yes, Moira," I said.

She hit play, and the sounds began right away. They were quiet, and as she'd ordered, I turned it up almost to a painful level, then backed it down just a tiny bit. She squeezed my hand for a moment before closing my door.

I felt the car shake when she got in, and I could hear the slam when she closed her door. I reached over and said in as normal a voice, "I could hear the door slam."

I couldn't hear any response, but she squeezed my hand once. And then I felt us rolling backwards.

I tried to pay attention to the turns. I know we got on the freeway, but she took a lot of turns, and I quickly became completely lost. Periodically she reached over and caressed my arm or clasped my hand, but as she always did, she primarily drove with both hands on the wheel. She hated my driving, as I was a one-handed driver, and always was using my right hand to touch her.

Twice we left the freeway but got back on after a few confusing turns. I decided she was deliberately making sure I didn't have a clue where we were.

Finally she left the freeway system entirely, and we drove on surface streets for a while. We came to a stop, and I thought we were there, but it must have just been a stop sign, as we started up again. There were more turns, but we were driving slower. Maybe we were in a park somewhere.

We came to a stop, and I felt the engine die. Wherever we were going, we were there.

She clasped my hand for a moment, then set my hand on my knee. I felt her climb out of the car and close her door. She left me sitting there alone.

I behaved. I didn't cheat. It would break my heart to disappoint her. That and she could be watching me to see if I cheated.

She was gone for several minutes. I listened to the thunderstorm in the iPod. I couldn't hear anything else at all. Then there was a gentle tap on my window before the door opened. I knew her touch, and then she reached past me and unbuckled the seat belt before taking my hands and directing me from the car. I climbed out, and she pressed me against the car before closing the door. Then she took me by the arm and started me walking forward.

We were on pavement, but that's all I could have told you.

Then she stopped and turned me around several times. When we were done, I had no idea which direction we were facing in relationship to the car. She led me forward another dozen steps, then stopped.

She moved behind me and adjusted the direction I was standing, then she reached for the iPod in my hand and began turning it down.

"Can you hear me over the sound?" she asked?

"Yes."

"Adjust the volume until you can understand me but try to drown out background noises." She handed the iPod back and kept talking to me. I turned the volume up, then nodded. I could tell she was talking in a firm voice from right behind me, and I couldn't hear anything else.

"I bought us something," she said. "It's in my name, but I really bought it for you."

I leaned back against her.

"I really hope you like it. When you are ready, you may remove the ear buds and pull off the blindfold. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

I took a breath, then, in one motion, I tugged the ear buds out of my ears with their cord while using my other hand to remove the blindfold from my eyes.

Directly in front of me was an airplane. I looked around, and to my left was Moira's airplane, her beloved Mooney. I turned to face it.

"No, no," she said. She turned me back to the first airplane.

"Why am I looking at your hanger mate's Cessna?"

She sighed. "That's not even the same color or model that was in here last week," she said.

Then I realized I was looking at a small, white and blue, two seat Cessna. I looked over my shoulder. "That's a 152."

She nodded. She was grinning. "You bought me an airplane? Oh my god, you bought me an airplane?" I spun to face her and couldn't decide if I should hug her or kiss her. So I did both, laughing at the same time.

Finally she pushed me away and turned me back. "It's a suitable trainer," she said.

"I already fly yours so well," I told her.

"I know. I'm so proud of you. But there is no way you are soloing a one hundred fifty knot airplane with retracts, honey."

I looked over my shoulder at her. "I suppose that would be foolish." I looked back at the Cessna.

"It's a trainer," she said. "You will learn to fly it. You will build hours in it. Once you are licensed, you can be my safety pilot for instrument practice." Then she turned me to face her. "You will make promises to me, right now. You will never fly in bad weather without me."

"I promise."

"Two thousand feet and five miles. Do you understand? Until you have your instrument rating."

I nodded.

"You will never engage in foolish stunts or fly close to the ground."

I nodded.

"You will never push your fuel limits. In this airplane, you will fly no longer than two and a half hours between fill ups. That does not mean two hours and thirty five minutes. Do I make myself clear?"

I nodded.

"At six gallons per hour, you can fly four hours with full tanks. Do you know why I put a shorter limit on?"

"Because I might burn more than six an hour, and it looks like it has small tanks."

She smiled. "Right. Two and a half hours and you better be wheels down, or I will take it away. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Moira."

"Honey, I almost ran out of gas once. In a 152. That's why I'm so paranoid. It was three hours and ten minutes, and the engine almost died when I turned to final."

"Oh god. I won't push it. That's conservative, but I won't push it."

"Good. Thank you."

She turned me back to look at my plane. "It's beautiful, Moira."

"I know." She paused. "It was inexpensive. It has a freshly overhauled engine. I bought it and had it overhauled. Eight hours since overhaul. But the panel is kind of crappy, and I don't want you ever taking this plane into instrument conditions."

I nodded.

"When it's time to get your instrument rating, you'll use the Mooney or we'll sell this for something with a proper panel."

"You bought me a plane." I kept staring at it.

"Yes, I bought you a plane." She paused. "Remember my favorite house?"

"The one on Lake Minnetonka?"

"Yes. They moved into a bigger house on Lake Minnetonka. I closed six weeks ago on both the sale of theirs and the buy of the new one."

I turned to her. "Right on the lake?" She nodded. "Oh shit, I bet that was a couple of nice checks." She nodded. "You didn't tell me."

"I wanted this surprise."

I hugged her.

"There are three more surprises."

"This wasn't enough?"

She reached into her purse and handed me a credit card. "That's for fuel and other expenses. It's not for anything except flying." The card had my name on it. "Should we take it up?"

"Yes!"

"I already pre-flighted," she said. "After this flight, it will be your responsibility. Do you think you can pull it out yourself?"

I nodded. She stepped back, and I stepped up to the plane and pulled it carefully from the hangar, turning it down the taxiway. Then I helped her close the hangar door. We stepped outside, and I walked to the right door.

"Uh uh," she said. "Other side."

"You hate flying from the right," I told her.

"Other side."

"That's the pilot's side."

"Damnit, Pamela. Other side."

"Sorry," I said meekly and walked around to the other side, but I was grinning by the time I arrived. I climbed in. She was at her door but wasn't in yet, and she explained how to properly close my door. I adjusted my seat and buckled up. Then she climbed in and did the same thing.

She handed me a piece of paper. I looked at it.

"What is this?"

"It's a pilot's license."

"I haven't earned one yet."

She laughed. "Whose name is on it?"

I looked at it. "Yours."

"Flip it over. What does it say?"

"Your name, your social security number, and your ratings." Then I stared at it. "Commercial pilot? When did you get that?"

"A few months ago."

"You've been holding out on me."

"What else?"

"Instrument. Oh shit. You're a CFI!"

"Welcome to your first official flying lesson. Ground school starts tonight."

"I love you, Moira."

"I love you too, Pamela." She paused. "Check list down by your leg. Key on the dash. Think you can get it started?"

It turns out I could.

About the author:

Julia P. Lynde is the pseudonym of a writer living in Minnesota.

Julia is older than most of the characters in her books. She has blue eyes and grey hair. She enjoys hiking in the mountains (difficult to do in the mid-west) and hosting dinner parties.

Julia can be reached via email as julia.p.lynde@gmail.com. Twitter: @JuliaPLynde

Julia's other works include:

Novels

Rewind:

Emerging from traumatic events of her past, Shane is left dealing with newfound self-revelations until she seeks help from an unexpected quarter.

Veronica is a stunning and powerful businesswoman who knows what she wants and lives for the seduction involved in getting it.

Complicated doesn't begin to describe the results.

Rewind features graphic sex between consenting women and some light BDSM.

Pulled to the Dark: The Siriena Series Volume 1:

Felicia Conner begins having recurring dreams of the woman who gave her a great new job. Night after night, Petra appears in her dreams. Petra begins to teach Felicia the wonders of the dream world she inhabits while Felicia begins to wonder how she can have such lifelike dreams night after night.

Petra welcomes Felicia to the world of Siriena, where the world may just very well be as it seems.

This complete novel of 95,000 words contains swords, magic, intriguing characters, an easy-to-hate villain and graphic sex scenes between Felicia and Petra.

Novellas

Unwilling

Alexandra and Melissa are coworkers who entirely hate each other, each for her own reasons. One Friday night, Melissa desperately needs Alex to save Melissa's job.

Alex gives Melissa an offer: be her servant for a month or join the unemployment line, believing Melissa would rather take her chances than bow to Alexandra. Instead, Melissa accepts.

This 30,000 word novella (about 100 printed pages) features domination, submission, bondage, and just a touch of some hot sex.

Paying the Price

Princess Meorie is kidnapped from the Norinian capitol, finding herself aboard a warship of Tendaria, a victim of treachery and dishonor. She discovers her captor is Dareena, daughter of the Tendarian queen, who intends to return Meorie to Tendaria to stand trial for war crimes of four years ago.

Dareena promises justice, but Meorie knows she will only receive vengeance. She is offered the choice of spending the voyage trussed like a turkey with an equally undignified delivery to the Tendarian palace, or she can accept a magical slave collar of obedience, to be removed upon delivery. She accepts the collar, binding her to obedience to Dareena.

As the voyage progresses, Meorie attempts to defeat the collar while learning how deep the treachery towards her has extended. She also finds herself falling in love with her captor.

This novella of 43,000 words, about 130 printed pages, is the darkest story Julia P. Lynde has written.

Northern Proposals

Jade and Jessica are co-workers, scheduled to complete a project on Monday. When Friday rolls around, the proposal isn't completed, and Jessica's weekend of fun is spoiled by getting dumped, Jessica invites Jade to come along for a weekend at a beautiful cabin on the lake. Once at the cabin, Jade discovers love isn't as simple as she once thought.

Northern Proposals is a simple, lovely tale of self-discovery. It is filled with two complicated characters and some hot, D/s sex between our two heroines.

This novella is 51,000 words, or about 160 printed pages.

Shorts

Bound in Arrogance

"You wouldn't last two hours of my attention," Penny told me, turning it into a wager. Foolishly, I rose to the bait.

Bound in Arrogance features Veronica and Penny several years prior to the events in Rewind. It features light BDSM.

Emily's Gift

Succubus Volume 1

Emily's daughter has taken a bad path, and Emily turned to the fae succubus, Anita, for her own brand of help.

This short story of 9400 words features intriguing characters and some steamy female on succubus sex.

Snow Bound

First in the 5-part Snow Bound Series.

After a near experience with a deer, Allison is pulled from her car by Sarah, troubled twenty-five-year-old photographer. Sarah drives Allison to Allison's secluded cabin on a lake, where the two become snow bound.

Allison finds Sarah deeply attractive. Will Sarah's troubled past interfere with a possible future?

This short of 10,000 words contains graphic sex, light bondage, domination, and a mind game or two.

Holiday Escort

Madeline Burnet is out of work after ten years as the highly-skilled personal assistant to the owner of a luxury travel agency. During a job interview, she meets Karen Green. The job requires skills Madeline doesn't have, but Karen offers an unexpected alternative arrangement.

She needs a fake girlfriend to help her get through the holiday season. Madeline's affections are not aligned towards women, but she accepts for the money and the chance to make more contacts.

It turns out that being a fake girlfriend can be a very confusing job.

Holiday Escort is a delightful tale involving two very different women. This story is sure to bring pleasure to the reader.

Bidding War

Copyright 2013 by Julia P. Lynde

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.

* * *

License Notes

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