For Better or Worse Copyright © 2006 by Jodi Payne       ISBN: 978-1-61040-004-6

Switching Sides Copyright © 2007 by Beth Wylde       ISBN-13: 978-1-60370-344-4 / ISBN-10: 1-60370-344-6

Love on the Line Copyright © 2008 by Beth Wylde

For Love of Laura Copyright © 2008 by Cassidy Ryan       ISBN: 978-1-60370-546-2

If Only in Cranbury Park Copyright © 2008 by Charlotte Dare       ISBN-13: 978-1-60370-719-0 / ISBN-10: 1-60370-719-0

Black and White Copyright © 2009 by Shanna Germain Incident at Shady Oaks Copyright © 2009 by Sarah Colter Hot for Teacher Copyright © 2010 by Jodi Payne

Defining Moments Copyright © 2010 by Giselle Renarde Propositioning Pollyanna Copyright © 2010 by Penelope Friday Leila Copyright © 2011 by Elizabeth Reeve

For Better or Worse

Jodi Payne

“What time are we supposed to be there?” I look at my watch.

“I think Anna said seven.”

“Are you sure it was seven? I think she might have said seven-thirty.”

“Gail.” Julie looks in the mirror at me. “Why do you always question my answers? If you don’t want to accept what I tell you then, for God’s sake, don’t ask me.”

Well, yeah, Julie’s right. She’s always right. Why do I question her answers? Habit, I guess. But I do like the look on her face when she gets annoyed with me. Her eyes flash, her shoulders straighten and she becomes peacock-like in her stature. All that lovely Taurus stubbornness turns her into a fiery goddess commanding my respect and attention.

And she’s got it, damn her; it’s not even worth trying to reply. I walk towards her dressing table where she sits putting on her make-up. She’s chosen a green satin shirt to wear to dinner, and it’s one of my favorites. I love the way satin hangs on her, hugging her shoulders and gently falling over her firm, round breasts. I stand behind her and meet her eyes in the mirror. “This shirt makes your eyes look like emeralds,” I tell her, wondering if I really want to go to this dinner party at all. I’d much rather stay home and admire Julie.

I stroke the back of her neck with my fingers and I can see the gooseflesh rise there as she gasps.

“That tickles!” She grins at me.

I bend over and press my lips to the very same spot and she sighs.

“Gail, what are you doing?”

I don’t answer her with words. I pull the collar of her shirt back and move my lips to the newly exposed skin.

“Gail, don’t. We have to leave soon.”

“Let’s not go.” I whisper, running my lips up the side of her neck to her earlobe.

“Gail! Anna is expecting us.” Julie pauses, make-up brush in hand.

“Let’s stay home.” I slide my hands under her arms and around to fondle her breasts, cupping them easily, one in each palm. She gasps lightly as I rub my thumbs over the place where I know her still-soft nipples lie beneath her bra and I try to coax more out of her, nipping gently at her ear.

“Gail…”

For all of her stubbornness, Julie is easily seduced. It takes little to win a sigh from her and little more before she moans for me. My fingers work their way down her shirt, unbuttoning it slowly as they go, then sliding back up the open lapels to slip the heavy fabric off her shoulders, exposing porcelain white skin covered in pale, red-brown freckles. I taste her skin with my tongue and teeth. I pull her arms back behind her and undo the buttons at her wrists so that her shirt can slide freely to the floor.

Julie moans. “Mm, Gail.” Her use of my name is no longer in protest but in encouragement.

Leaving her lacy black bra in place for the moment, I spend some time unfastening the clasp on her pants and lowering the delicate zipper. She turns her head to the side and we kiss. She tastes like her favorite lemon ginger tea. Her tongue is warm and yielding and I circle it with mine, feeling that luscious wetness seeping between my legs, warming and softening my labia.

I pull the clip out of her hair and it tumbles around her shoulders in thick unruly red curls. I give it a tug and she sighs. I slide my hands around her bare middle, down her thighs, and then back up again. Julie hums contentment at me. I slip my fingers under the gentle elastic of her panties and she leans back against my chest.

“Yes, Gail.”

I flick my eyes up to the mirror to watch her as my fingers slip over her vulva. She bites her lip. I press my middle finger past her labia until it encounters her deepest desire, wet and slippery, warm and inviting. I douse my fingers in it before sliding them up to stroke her clit.

Julie pants as I slide my fingers over and around the firm nob there. I’m watching her in the mirror still, taking in her furrowed brow, her open mouth framed in deep red lipstick, watching her abs expand and collapse as she pants with her arousal.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whisper in her ear. She moans in response. “Turn around,” I tell her and she whimpers as I remove my fingers, but she turns her body to face me, her eyes watching me and begging me to touch her again. I reach behind her and release the clasp on her bra and she removes it, letting it slip from her fingers to the floor. I pull her pants and panties off, tossing them to one side. She sits on the vanity stool, looking down at me as I kneel before her. With a tug on her hips, I position her at the edge of the stool and lower my lips to her thighs.

Julie tangles the fingers of one hand in my hair and uses the other hand to brace herself on the stool. She’s almost vibrating with anticipation. She spreads her legs wider and rolls her hips up to give me better access. She smells wonderful; musky and dark and hot. The first taste with my tongue makes her gasp and shiver.

“Yes, yes. Oh, Gail.” She encourages me again, and I settle onto my knees and wrap my fingers around her ass to give it a squeeze. She loves long slow strokes around and over and between her labia. She tugs on my hair and moans. She whimpers when I flick at her clit with the tip of my tongue and wraps her feet around the legs of the vanity stool. I roll my tongue and dip it into her, and she groans low in her chest and pants.

“Feels so good Gail, feels so good.”

I thrust my tongue into her and she scoots even farther forward to make my access easier. I fuck her with my tongue until she is practically screaming in frustration. With both hands on the bench now, she lifts her hips slightly, rocking them against my mouth. I know it’s not enough for her, I know exactly what she wants and I wait until she whimpers again to give it to her. Flattening my tongue, I press it over her clitoris and then, with a good amount of pressure, I scrub her clit hungrily.

Julie groans loudly, her breath erratic and shallow. “Oh, oh God, oh God, oh yes!”

She’s close so I’m careful not to change a thing. I keep the motion repetitive and the pressure constant so as not to interrupt her urgent need. I feel her rise; her ass tightens in my fingers, her hips jerk against me, her thighs tighten around my ears. The tension reaches a fever pitch before it finally breaks; bursts but then flows, like water spilling over a levee. Julie trembles and pants and I pull myself away to watch the lovely astonishment on her face melt into relaxed satisfaction.

She slips from her stool to kneel between my legs and kiss me. She can taste herself on my lips, I know, which is so erotic that I find myself moaning softly into her mouth. I can’t imagine any greater turn-on than watching Julie come. I can’t imagine any sweeter taste than her kiss. And when Julie’s fingers cup and press and rub me through my jeans, my body tingles and longs for her to take me with her.

* * *

The phone rang sending Julie jumping out of bed.

“Phone!” she called out to me, as if I couldn’t hear it for myself.

“You know who that is, don’t you?” I warned her but she picked it up anyway, and waved a hand at me to be quiet. I slid out of bed and pulled on a t-shirt and shorts.

“Hello?” Julie said calmly into the receiver. “Oh, hello, Anna. I was planning on calling you but, hm? Oh, no actually it’s Gail, she’s, uh…” Julie looked at me. “She’s sick.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not sick, I’m just kinky.” I grinned at Julie, who gave me a lemon face and her ‘shut up’ look in return. I laughed softly and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

“Yeah that was her, she’s… delirious,” I heard Julie say over the running water. “What? I beg your pardon, but no! No, we were not fucking!” I nearly swallowed the toothpaste. Julie was laughing in that embarrassed way that lets everyone know you’re lying. We were so busted. “Okay, okay, so we were fucking,” she admitted reluctantly. “But it was Gail’s idea!”

“What are we, twelve, now?” I called out from the bathroom. I heard Julie apologizing to Anna and then she appeared at the bathroom door. “Our friends know us entirely too well.” She tried to look contrite, but the growing grin on her lips gave her away. Julie was very much one for doing the ‘right’ thing so I loved it when I could get her into to mischief.

Julie slid into the bathroom behind me and looked at me in the mirror. “Anna reminded me about the function tonight,” she said. “We’re going this time. You got me?”

I groaned. I had to learn to time my seductions better. I would rather have gone to Anna’s last night and skipped this afternoon’s ‘function’.

* * *

Cocktails. What a snore.

Could someone please find me a group of lesbians that don’t want the warm and fuzzy, traditional noose around their fingers, two and half kids and a dog? Or maybe a few dykes that don’t use recycled toilet paper and spend every Tuesday night in yoga class? Or one, just one woman who smokes?

If one more person asked me if Julie and I were planning a family I would have screamed. I actually considered stepping right into the middle of the damn cocktail party, raising my arms over my head and shouting, “No! We don’t want a family! Julie and I like drinking and dancing and staying out late! We like porn and cigarettes and swearing and we use squeezably-soft Charmin! We eat McDonalds! And le petit morte is the closest we’ve ever come to the dreaded bed-death, damn it!”

Is it so unimaginable to be committed in a relationship but still want to have fun? I swear, in our little lesbian community, the minute you hold hands with someone for more than two dates you’re no longer permitted around the single women. You’re labeled one of ‘them’, the couples, the women who showed up on someone’s doorstep with a U-haul.

For the record? It was a Ryder Truck. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it. Although with my luck, you probably don’t smoke, either.

I sighed, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Julie put a hand on my back. “You’re bored.”

“Oh my God, yes.” I said, turning and giving her a fake, plastered-on smile.

“I’m sorry, but I was invited and I couldn’t say no.”

“You’re too nice, Jules. You should have let me tell them no.”

Julie laughed. “How about another drink?”

“Mmm.” I smiled, that sounded like a great idea. “How about another drink?” I replied with a wiggle of my eyebrows, and accepted the fingers Julie slipped into my hand to drag me over to what passed for a bar.

She was looking good that afternoon. It was a Saturday so she didn’t have on one of her school outfits. She was wearing her red top, which made her red hair look less red and more auburn, and it had a lovely v-neck dip that showcased the cleft of her cleavage nicely. Her khakis were nothing to write home about except where they clung to her ass, right on the crest, round and lovely.

“I’ll have an amaretto sour and my girl here will have a cosmopolitan.” I said to our hostess. She gave me an uneasy smile in return and then looked to Julie for help.

“Two white wines, and ignore Gail, Sandy; she’s ornery today.”

White wine. God, how… grown up. Get me out of here.

“Julie!” Came a voice behind us. I cringed at the sound.

“Marion! Hi!” Julie smiled in her girlish way and gave the woman a politely platonic hug. “Marion, this is Gail. I’m so glad you finally are able to meet her!” Julie seemed genuinely pleased. “Gail, this is Marion, I’ve told you about her. Marion teaches English.”

“Hello, Gail,” Marion said, turning to me. “Julie has told me a lot about you.”

“Uh oh. That can’t be good,” I said, giving Marion a grin. I kept the hand that wasn’t holding my wine glass in my pocket.

As predicted, Marion laughed uproariously at one of the most overused icebreaking quips ever, and then she winked at me. “Oh, come now, Julie’s had nothing but good things to say.”

With a crooked grin, I leaned closer to Marion and whispered, “Well, I imagine the bruises and the leather aren’t good teachers’ lounge conversation.”

Marion’s face went white for a moment. When the moment went on just a hair too long I started to worry that Julie might have to explain that I was joking, but then Marion tried on a tentative smile. “Oh! Oh that was a joke, wasn’t it? How funny! Leather.” She looked at Julie. “Julie, she’s so funny!”

Judging by the look Julie gave me, she didn’t seem to think I was so funny. She did seem relieved, however, that Marion didn’t turn and run screaming for the hills.

“She’s a joker,” Julie said in that polite-yet-terse way of hers, and I knew I’d just firmly landed myself in the doghouse. I decided that I’d better shape up or I’d earn myself a short lead attached to a stake in the back yard to go with it. God, I hate sleeping on the couch.

“So, how do you like working at the high school?” There. That was an innocuous enough question, wasn’t it?

Have I mentioned that Julie is a science teacher? She teaches high school biology and chemistry to 10th and 11th graders. She has the patience of, well, a high school teacher. I’d kill the little bastards, myself. Either that, or I’d hang out behind the school and smoke with them. I think it’s pretty remarkable of her actually, because you know that for every one kid that can’t get enough of dissecting frogs, there are ten that are grumbling ‘fuck biology’ in the hallways.

“Oh, I enjoy it very much,” Marion replied, relaxing again. She gave me a far more genuine smile. “We have a great group of kids, don’t you think so, Julie?”

Julie was clearly happier with this line of conversation. “Oh yes, especially my juniors this year. They have a lot of energy.”

The cocktail party lasted another hour or so, during which time I was a good pup and remained mindful of every word I uttered. I did manage to have an intelligent discussion with Marion about Virginia Woolf (it was nice to have the subject come up and actually manage to get past the word “dolorous”), and otherwise I followed Julie around. As we were leaving, I helped Julie on with her jacket and I opened the door for her. By that time I thought I had pretty well made amends.

I took Julie’s hand as we made our way down the steps and she tugged it free again. Apparently, I was wrong. “Julie?”

“Fuck you, Gail.

“Oh, come on, Julie.”

She turned the corner and walked another half a block before she finally stopped and turned around. I’d been trailing a few steps behind, waiting for her to let me have it. “Damn you, Gail.”

Crap. And there it was. “Julie, I was only joking.”

“It wasn’t funny! She’s a co-worker and that was a nice party. I can’t take you anywhere!”

“Julie, baby,” I said, trying to sound apologetic. “I’m not good at all that grin and pretend to be nice stuff; you know that.”

“Yes, Gail. Yes. I know that. I fucking know that.” Julie shook her head and turned away, heading down the sidewalk again. I might have been mistaken, but I thought maybe I saw tears in her eyes. God, I can’t take it when Julie cries. I really can’t take it when I make her cry, and it seems like I do it all the damn time.

“Julie, I’m sorry.” I meant it, I honestly meant it. “Baby?” I caught up to her and matched her angry walking pace. “I’m truly sorry, all right?”

“It might have been funny in a dyke bar, Gail, but not at a cocktail party, you know?” Julie kept walking at a good clip, making me work to keep up. “You have no sense of propriety.”

That was actually Julie’s mother talking. ‘No sense of propriety.’ Julie was raised wealthy. She never left the house without her mother approving of what she was wearing, she went to the best private schools, and she was painstakingly taught manners and etiquette. Julie reflexively says please and thank you, she doesn’t pick up her fork until her hostess does, she even raises her pinky finger when she drinks from a tea cup. Her mother, the matriarch, cares very much what people think of the family and always has, and so Julie moved fifteen hundred miles away, where she could live with me in peace and not embarrass or shame anyone.

And that was what I was up against every time the argument went in this direction. I knew I couldn’t use that particular trump card, however, because Julie would never have forgiven me.

“You didn’t fall in love with me for my sense of propriety,” I ventured.

“Gail, you’re not the one who’s going to have to hear about it, you know? That kind of shit gets around. Imagine what people will think?”

I chewed my lip. I don’t give a damn what people think most of the time, and I suppose that was the real issue here, because, like her pretentious mother, Julie does. Oh, she doesn’t care if they know she’s gay, but she goes to great lengths to make us look ‘normal’; to make us fit in, as if she could turn me into a man and we’d be just another American yuppified couple. I understand why she does it, but it doesn’t stop us from arguing about it in some shape or form, time and again.

“I know, Julie, I tried to patch it up, I happen to think I saved it. We had a nice talk, Marion and I.”

Julie sighed and shook her head. “It’s not just that, Gail, it’s everything.”

Whoa.

“Everything?” I asked, as Julie turned off the sidewalk and marched angrily up the steps to our building. “What’s everything?”

“Everything is you, Gail.”

I felt more than heard those words. They struck me in my stomach, and I felt something twist inside. Not for the first time, Julie was the Beauty and I was her Beast. “Julie,” I said carefully, “I’m not going to apologize for being me.”

Julie stopped in the hall with one hand on the banister and finally turned to look at me. She sighed, and then made her way up the one flight to our second floor condo. “I’m not asking you to apologize for being you, I’m just asking…” She shook her head and unlocked the door to our place. “I don’t know what I’m asking. I’m asking you to have some respect for the circles I operate in.”

Okay, this time she asked for it. “Circles you operate in.” I repeated, emphasizing each word. I closed and locked the door behind me as we went inside. “I’m sorry I don’t make a six-figure salary, Julie, but that’s no reason to imply that I am trash, either.”

“You just don’t understand!” Julie barked at me and hurried into the bedroom, unable to hide her tears this time. I arrived at the bedroom door just in time to have it slammed in my face. Julie and I had had many arguments, but we didn’t slam doors; we didn’t walk away from each other. It was our rule. There was something more going on here. And by ‘something’ I didn’t mean hormones.

“What is this really about, Julie?”

“Nothing!” she sobbed from the other side of the door.

“Can I come in?”

“No!” Her voice was a little farther away from the door this time, and I heard her blow her nose.

“Please?”

Julie sniffled. “Go ‘way.”

I tried the doorknob. She hadn’t locked it, and so I started to turn the handle.

“My mother wants us for Christmas!” Julie shouted, and I froze.

I blinked at the door for a long moment, and then took a few steps backward, away from it. “On second thought, Julie, honey, I’m going to stay out here.”

“I hate my mother!” Julie shouted.

“No, you don’t.” She doesn’t. Julie is incapable of hate.

“I should!”

“You said no, right?” I asked tentatively and received no answer. “Julie? Tell me you said no?” Except that I already knew that she hadn’t, Julie never said no.

The bedroom door opened slowly, and Julie looked at me with red, watery eyes. “It’s not polite to turn down an invitation from one’s mother,” she said helplessly, as much a slave to her good manners as ever.

* * *

Of all the things I knew I’d have to endure when I decided to shack up with Julie full-time, I never expected to be spending Christmas with Mommy and Daddy at their mountain home in Vail.

I’d never seen anything like it. It looked like a palace. As we pulled up the driveway, the sun glinted off the slightly greenish tinted glass that covered one entire end of the house. Floor to ceiling windows on three floors allowed for an unspoiled view of the mountains from every room.

The limo that picked us up had custom plates that read “mumsey”; it was Mommy’s limo. When it stopped near the front entrance I reached for the door handle, but Julie put her hand on my arm. “Don’t. Ben will get it,” she said. She was completely serious.

“Ben will get it.” I repeated her words back to her as a statement, not a question, trying to hide the sarcasm in my voice and failing miserably.

“Gail, you promised—”

“Not to be snarky,” I interrupted. “Yes. Yes, I did. I’m sorry.” Why did I promise her that when I knew there was no way in hell I was going to be able to keep that promise?

As forecast, Ben did open my door and I stepped out, reaching a hand back in to help Julie out as well. Ben closed the car door as Julie and I made our way up the white gravel path to the front steps. “Let me guess. Ben will get our bags, too.”

“Well, Ben will bring them into the house, Eileen will get them from there.”

Christ. “Eileen?”

“Don’t start, Gail.” Julie chided. “Best behavior, you promised.”

“If you don’t stop reminding me of my fucking promises…” I began just as the front door opened for us.

“Hello, Mother.” Julie said, right about the time that I used the f-word, loud enough to drown my voice out. I just stared at her. Never trust a woman whose children call her ‘Mother’.

“Julie, so good to see you!” Her mother pulled Julie into the house and gave her a fairly convincing hug. She and Julie looked nothing alike as far as I could tell; her mother’s hair was blonde and straight, and her face was long where Julie’s was rounder. “Look at you. You look… well, you look pretty Julie, but I wish you’d wear your hair—”

Julie cut her off. “Mother, this is Gail,” she interrupted before her mother could give her a makeover right there in the living room.

“Oh.” Julie’s mother turned to me, and I stepped into the house. She looked me over critically before introducing herself. “I’m Mrs. McHugh.”

Julie balked at that. “Mother.”

I watched the woman’s thoughts march along behind her eyes. Her lips twitched. I think it might actually have been painful for her. “Call me Kathleen,” she said tightly.

“Hello, Kathleen,” I replied, hands tucked neatly in my pockets. She hadn’t extended hers in greeting and so neither did I. I think Vail got even colder at that moment.

“You’re late.” The man that entered the room next could only have been Julie’s father, as I now saw a clear family resemblance.

“Hi, Daddy.” Julie smiled as he made his way over. I knew that smile and it was a genuine one. “Our plane landed late.”

Julie had always said nice things about her father. She’d also said he was a man of few words, which was evident in his next statement. He gave Julie a kiss on the cheek, then raised a hand to me and said, “Hello, call me Gareth,” before turning around and disappearing back the way he’d come. Julie didn’t seem at all fazed by his greeting, such as it was.

Most of our afternoon was spent in a lavish sitting room at the front of the house. Julie talked with her mother for a long while about school and the children in her classes, while I remained mostly silent, and took in the magnificent view through the enormous glass windows.

I managed to steal a few kisses while Julie and I unpacked and got ready for dinner. Julie whined at me a little and tried to make an excuse about not being able to “do it” in her parents’ house, but I could tell by the goose bumps I left her with on her arms and the way she bit her lips while she dressed that I could have her if I wanted her. I resolved to dishonor her under her parents’ roof that very evening.

Dinner was nothing short of interminable. Yet again, I had said nothing all evening, mostly out of disinterest in cousin Aly’s new boyfriend and the construction being done on their condo in New York City, when Kathleen’s change of subject finally caught my attention.

“So Julie, did you know that your cousin Mark is like you?”

“Like me?” Julie asked, sounding a little terse for the first time all evening.

“Yes, darling, you know, gay.” Kathleen whispered the offending word the way I’d heard my grandmother whisper cancer as a child, as if you could catch it by saying it too loudly.

“Actually, I’m lesbian, Mother.”

Kathleen looked shocked. “Julie! Must you use such words at the table?”

I laughed. I guess I ought to have been offended but I found her ignorance so ludicrous all I could do was laugh at her. Julie glared at me, though, and I quieted down quickly.

“So, Mark is gay, huh?” Julie asked, bringing the conversation back to its beginning.

“Oh, yes. Your Aunt Celia was shocked.”

Julie ground her teeth a moment before finally asking what was really on her mind. “Mother, if you can’t even say lesbian, why did you invite us?” Julie had told me she was going to ask, but I hadn’t expected she’d ask so soon, or ask with me in the room, let alone at dinner.

Oddly, Kathleen seemed prepared to answer that question, and smiled at Julie. “Honey, it’s not taboo anymore to have gays in the family.”

I nearly spit my wine across the table. ‘Is it still taboo to have an idiot in the family?’ I was thinking, but I kept my mouth firmly shut.

Julie turned a shade of red that I hadn’t seen on her since that ill-fated cocktail party. “What?” she asked incredulously, her voice pitched high.

“Oh, sweetie, it’s fashionable now, you know? Everyone knows someone who’s gay nowadays.” Kathleen seemed to truly believe she’d had some kind of revolutionary breakthrough. “Did you know that John, the Connolly’s gardener, is gay? And, oh! David Sykes, you remember him, I went to school with him and he’s now the Board Chairman for that,” she waved her fingers at Julie’s father, “that pharmaceutical company. What’s it called, Gareth?”

Julie’s father picked up his wine and replied in a bored tone, “Don’t drag me into this, Kathleen.”

Kathleen waved him off as if he were useless and continued on. “Anyway, some very famous people are gay, you know.”

I was starting to think that if Julie’s jaw dropped any further it would dislocate. Me, I’d been hiding a grin behind my hand for the last several minutes. Clearly Kathleen was uncomfortable with the ensuing silence because she started in again.

“But you’re the only gay woman I know, Julie, and all my bridge ladies say the same thing. How unique and—”

“Mother!” Julie stood abruptly, bracing her hand on the table edge. “Do not talk to me again until you can look me in the eye and say the word ‘lesbian’ three times in a row.” And with that, Julie turned around and left the table.

I froze, and flicked my eyes first to Kathleen, then to Gareth and back again before leaning back in my chair. That was definitely my exit cue as well, but I needed a reason to go. Kathleen helpfully supplied one.

“She’s always been such a moody girl.”

I stood. “You know, I think I’ll turn in,” I said and headed for the door. I know I promised Julie, but when I decided to turn around and take our wine glasses up with me, I looked at Kathleen and smiled. “If you can’t manage ‘lesbian’, I’m sure Jules would also accept ‘dyke’,” I said helpfully before leaving the room. I could hear Gareth’s laughter as I climbed the stairs in the hall.

* * *

I made my way up the long, extravagant staircase and down a lushly carpeted hall to our room. Julie was running a bath when I came in. “Baby?” I called as I pushed open the bathroom door with my toes.

Julie looked distraught, but she wasn’t crying. “I’m sorry, Gail, this was a stupid idea. I thought maybe Mother had changed or maybe she was trying to change and, I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Julie.” I handed over her glass of wine.

“We’re leaving tomorrow. I’ll tell Mother in the morning and then we’ll go.”

“Julie.”

“Don’t ‘Julie’ me!” She snapped and swallowed back the remaining contents of the wine glass. I blinked at her. She lowered it again and held the empty glass out to me.

“Would you rather I call you ‘Ralph’?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood a little. Julie burst into tears. I have an uncanny knack for saying exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time, and I have never learned. It’s remarkable really. At least this time she didn’t say ‘you don’t love me’ like she has in her more hormonal moments, or told me to sleep on the couch. It occurs to me now that perhaps Kathleen was right. Julie was a little moody, but in a good way.

I sat beside her on the edge of the tub and put my arm around her shoulders. “You know, I’ve never met your mother before, Jules, but I think, in her own very odd way, she is trying.”

Julie sniffled, but her shoulders stopped shaking so I could tell I had her attention. I babbled on, hoping to say something right for a change. “I mean, to talk about your cousin, and to seem… sort of happy that it’s… you know,” I sighed.

“No longer taboo to have gays in the family?” Julie asked, with a hint of the sarcasm more often attributable to me in her voice.

Good point. “Well, okay, that was sort of…”

“Ignorant?”

I almost laughed, but I didn’t think Julie would appreciate it, so I stayed the course. “Are you even trying to give her the benefit of the doubt?”

“No.”

I could tell this line of conversation was going to get us nowhere. Julie didn’t want to forgive her mother yet. The tub was filling quickly and I leaned over to shut the taps off. When I stood and tugged off my boots, Julie stood as well. “Can I have the rest of your wine?” she asked, and I nodded.

“Yeah.”

We began to undress in that matter of fact, comfortable way that couples do, but I watched her all the same. I love to watch her. It doesn’t matter what she’s doing, she just does everything with a polished gracefulness that makes me look like a bull in a china shop. I admired the way she stepped out of her jeans with pointed toes as the denim slid to the floor, and the way her delicate fingers, always neatly manicured, unbuttoned her blouse. She smiled at me then, as we bared ourselves for each other, knowing that I was watching her and liking it, I think.

The water in the tub was hot. I hissed as I dipped my toes into it, but managed to ease myself in slowly. Julie did the same, but had to tell me how hot it was five times in the process, all the while refusing every offer I made to cool it off a little.

I pulled her back against me and we sat in silence for a while, Julie clearly lost in her own thoughts. I enjoyed just holding her, and scooping the warm water up over her shoulders with a washcloth to keep her warm.

It isn’t easy being Julie McHugh, especially not in Vail. My Julie, the stable, well-educated, thoughtful schoolteacher and one-drink-wonder, is actually the fuck-up in her family.

Her younger brother, Robert (and don’t you dare call him ‘Bobby’), recently earned a graduate degree in business from Stanford University and is working as an investment banker. He makes upwards of a hundred and twenty thousand a year and he has no life, no time, and no significant other to spend it on.

Peter, Julie’s older brother and darling of the McHugh household, is a surgeon who got his pre-med undergrad degree from Harvard and his medical degree from Johns Hopkins. This guy doesn’t just have brains, he actually operates on them. You know how people say things like ‘this isn’t brain surgery’? Well Peter doesn’t find that saying funny at all. To him, everything is brain surgery. Including marriage. He very carefully dissected the dating scene, tossed aside prospective wives like he was selecting a tie, and finally plucked from the bowels of the female race a frighteningly perfect woman. Perfect looking, that is; the woman is a mannequin. After seeing a picture of her I had to ask Julie if she was actually smiling or if the perpetually stretched corners of her mouth were some kind of face-lift gone bad.

As for Julie, well, her mother had expected her to go to college, find a nice boy (preferably Catholic) who was majoring in business or medicine or law, and marry him. Then she was supposed to have a few kids named after various family members and maybe a Mercedes and a summer house in Palm Beach.

Instead of Norman Rockwell, Kathleen got Gloria Steinem. Julie shacked up with a woman who (even worse) was a bartender, and instead of being a rich man’s wife she followed her life long dream and became a schoolteacher. Her mother had such heart failure when Julie told her I was a bartender that Julie wasn’t able to get to the part about me being a woman in the same conversation. Julie sat on that for another two weeks until her mother’s Xanax had taken very, very firm hold.

I suppose that all of that sounds funny in retrospect, but at the time it sent Julie into quite a tailspin. She had moved fifteen hundred miles away from her family because she felt that she would never be able to be who she needed to be, a lesbian and a school teacher, if she remained in the shadow of the McHugh estate. So that phone call, the one that sent her mother crying hysterically to a psychiatrist about how wronged she was and how she wanted to kill herself, was the most difficult moment of Julie’s life.

For a solid week she and I argued about whether or not I should just back off. I’d never seen Julie so emotional.

“Don’t make any fucking self-righteous sacrifices on my account!” Julie shouted at me when I suggested that maybe we should slow down a little.

“Baby, I just don’t want to make things harder on you.”

“So you think walking out on me is going to make me feel better?!”

The tears were running down Julie’s face in sheets. I hadn’t ever seen anyone cry like that. Angry, hurt, confused tears that made me want to run to her and run away at the same time. I’d never had anyone put that kind of emotion on me, and here was Julie, saying here I am, for better or worse, and this is the ‘worse’ part so you better damn well fucking be there for me.

Right.

I tried, I really did. I think, looking back on it now, that Julie knew I was trying, but I was such a wreck about it. I’m just not equipped for tears and all the emotional drama. I’d only had a couple of girlfriends that I had dated for any length of time before Julie, and everyone else had been either weekend flings or pick-ups. And the fact is that, at the time, I had no respect for her family. I didn’t like their politics, I didn’t like their snobbery and I really did not like their money. So consoling Julie about her mother’s narrow-mindedness wasn’t easy. I’d say things like ‘Fuck your mother, who needs her?’ and, of course, Julie would cry. I’d say ‘I love you’ and she’d cry even more. I even tried ‘Would it make you feel better to hit me?’ which was also met with tears, although she punched me in the arm for good measure.

What made it all even more difficult was that we couldn’t even have sex after a couple of weeks. Julie grew self-conscious and self-doubting and it became increasingly difficult for me to touch her. Damn that Catholic guilt. One night I got so angry about it I got up out of bed and slept in the living room. Well, I didn’t sleep, I lay there in the dark staring at the ceiling and worked out what to do. Something had to give and by dawn I had a plan.

“Take off your clothes.”

The next night, after taking her out to dinner and plying her with a bottle of wine (of which she had her usual one glass and I finished the rest), I took her home with very specific intentions. She looked at me with an indulgent smile and shook her head.

“I’m tired,” she replied and maybe she was, but I had no intention of letting her get away with it anymore.

“Take your clothes off, Julie.”

“Gail, I appreciate what you’re doing, but…”

I narrowed my eyes and moved close to her. “No, no, you don’t.”

“What?” Her eyes told me she was taken aback by my comment. Good, I thought, keep her off guard.

“You don’t appreciate what I’m doing. If you did you’d be begging me not to stop.”

Julie gave me an exasperated look. “Gail, no games tonight, please?”

“I’m not playing games.” I told her, making sure there was a seductive tone in my voice as I leaned close to her ear.

I watched the goose bumps spread from her neck to her shoulders. I cupped her breasts through her clothes and I kissed her hard, pulling our bodies together. She protested some, putting her hands on my shoulders, but I knew if I pushed her just a little, if I could just get her out of her own skin for a few minutes, she’d feel better. This was the one thing I knew I could do for her, the one thing I was confident about when it came to relationships. I knew I could help her remember all the good things about being a woman in love with a woman. I knew I could make her scream.

“I’m getting pruny.”

“Wha…huh?” I stuttered. Julie shifted in my arms and mentally I was suddenly back in the reality of the tepid bath water with her.

“Wrinkly, you know?” Julie wiggled her fingers at me. “From the water.”

Oh yeah, Vail. I liked where I’d gone better. I made a half-hearted attempt to actually bathe us both, using a fragrant soap that had been left for us, but after I dropped the soap somewhere between Julie’s legs, I gave up looking for it and let my fingers search her body instead.

I lowered my lips to her neck as my fingers caressed her inner thigh. If she still had any reservations about fucking in this house, she didn’t let on at all. She raised her knee and let her head fall back on my shoulder with a sigh.

“You really think that maybe that was her way of making an effort?”

That was my Julie, intellectualizing when she should be turning her mind off. “You want to talk about this now?”

“Gail.”

I smiled and sighed. “Well, listen Jules, you know me, ‘Eat the Rich’ right?”

Julie chuckled. “Right. You wouldn’t give her the benefit of the doubt lightly.”

“She’s so obviously clueless about what it is to be gay, and I think in a way she was trying to speak from her own experience, maybe trying to show you she’d been thinking about you? I mean she did invite us here. Not just you, but us. Right?”

“She did. She did expressly invite you.” Julie conceded.

“I’m just saying think about it, I could be wrong, but your father seems fine and, I don’t know, I can see a lot of you in your mother. It’s possible.” It’s really not like me to be diplomatic, but I’ve always tried to be observant and I wouldn’t tell Julie something that I didn’t believe was true just to smooth things over.

“So you think I should give her a chance?”

“I think she’s giving us one.” I nodded.

“Kiss me?”

I’m not one to say no to the free and full offer of Julie’s mouth. She turned her head to face me and I pressed my lips to hers tightly before sliding my fingers over her clit. She moaned into my mouth and opened hers inviting my tongue in.

We made out for a while, making splashing sounds as we shifted and moaned until the water got cold. I pulled Julie from the bath and wrapped us each in a soft towel while I drained the tub. Julie reached into her toiletry bag on the bathroom counter and pulled out a toy with a coy smile.

“I thought you said you couldn’t ‘do it’ in your parents’ house!” I teased, relieving her of the towel and tugging her into the bedroom.

“I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold out all week,” she laughed.

I backed her up to the bed and she pulled herself up onto it. I crawled after her, my eyes on hers until she brandished her vibrator between our noses. I grinned and took it, turning it on. There’s another old joke about lesbians being able to come at the mere sound of a vibrator, and sometimes I wonder if it’s not true. There is something hot, though whether it’s a conditioned response or a natural one I don’t know, about the growl and hum of a favorite vibe that can make one wet of its own accord.

I held the instrument between my palms for a bit to warm it and favored Julie with a smile. Then I slipped the humming handful of silicone between us and gently pressed it flat against her clit. Gently at first, and then slowly adding pressure. She gasped and shivered, like she always does at the first touch of a vibe.

I left it there and pressed my hips to hers, pinning the narrow, flexible toy between our bodies. An experimental downward thrust of my hips caused the vibe to press firmly to my clit as well, making me gasp and moan. After a moment I tried an upward thrust and rubbed the now-slick vibe against Julie’s clit. She sighed softly and started moving her hips in a circular motion, lifting them slightly from the bed. Any need for thrusting on my part was forgotten as the vibe rolled effectively between us with little effort on my part at all.

My eyes were on Julie’s grimace, her brow was furrowed and her eyes closed tightly. Her wet lips formed varying shapes of nearly silent O’s through which the barest hint of breath escaped as she worked the vibe with her hips and dug her fingers into my ass. I arched my shoulders upward, pressing my body more firmly against Julie’s and groaned as the vibe was pinned in just the right spot.

Julie was panting under me and I lowered my shoulders again and kissed her, claiming her mouth with a decisive thrust of my tongue. She tasted like merlot and smelled like soap and her own dizzying musk and I rocked my clit against the vibe, my hips now moving in opposition to hers.

She tore her mouth from mine and cupped one of my breasts in both her hands, bathing my stiff nipple with her tongue. It set off lightening strikes deep inside my body and I clenched practiced muscles around nothing but it still made me shiver. Julie opened her legs wider and wrapped them around my thighs with a straining groan and I knew she was close. I closed my eyes and concentrated on my own climax, which I knew was right there for me, if I could reach far enough. Then Julie shuddered and bucked, her gasps more like screams. I opened my eyes and watched as her pale skin blushed pink. She continued to move even after she’d had her fill locking those stubborn, Irish, hazel eyes on me. She arched her hips and I gasped.

“Gail, so fucking hot, take what you want, baby, come for me.”

I could have died right then, on the verge of orgasm with Julie, beautiful, sweet, soft Julie, talking dirty in my ear. What took me then didn’t feel like death at all but just the opposite as every muscle in my body tensed, and every nerve was set on fire in radiant waves. I shouted something, probably her name, and I gasped and ground my hips into the vibe and otherwise made a spectacle of myself. When my ears stopped ringing and my body relaxed, Julie started to laugh triumphantly.

I joined her.

* * *

Christmas Day wasn’t a complete disaster, but it wasn’t what I would call “Merry” either.

Julie’s brothers arrived early in the morning. Peter was first, and I was surprised by him. He was taller than I’d expected and very handsome, too; he didn’t fit my image of a brain surgeon at all. Peter introduced me to Ellen, his wife, and to their kids; eleven-year old Andrew, who was cute as could be, and four-year old Allison who walked right passed me and into Kathleen’s arms. Ellen was attractive, but just as vapid as Julie had led me to believe.

Robert barreled in next, wearing nothing more than knee-length gym shorts and a ratty-looking t-shirt despite the cold, and carrying three duffel bags and a lap top computer bag as well. Eileen, the maid, whisked two of the three duffels away instantly as they were apparently laundry, and Robert dumped the third at the foot of the stairs. After a brief hello to everyone, he announced that he had to check his email and disappeared into his father’s study with his laptop.

Breakfast was chaotic, and Julie’s family stepped all over each other in the kitchen. The kids took their food and disappeared to watch TV, so just the adults were left behind to make small talk, drink coffee and choke down eggs. Peter and I had a halting conversation about the weather and about their flight out from the East Coast. He didn’t seem uncomfortable around me as much as just generally uncomfortable around so many people at once. In my eyes, he solidly maintained his geek status while gaining a few points for trying to be friendly.

Robert joined us after a half an hour or so. He came into the kitchen and went straight for the refrigerator. “There are eggs on the counter and some of that multigrain bread that you like by the toaster honey,” Kathleen shouted to him over the general din of conversation. Robert grunted back at her and pulled a carton of milk out of the fridge from which he drank directly while frying up a couple of eggs. Kathleen looked positively mortified. I looked at Julie and she ginned at me. Julie had once told me that Robert was a very talented potter, but that he chose banking because it paid the bills better. She and Robert were close, I knew that, and now I could see why.

After about an hour it was decided that we should move into the living room, where the Christmas tree had been erected by the house staff the day before, to open presents. The kids were summoned and they immediately began tearing into gifts.

Julie and I had promised not to spend a lot on each other, so she gave me toasty slippers from L.L. Bean, a pair of cozy-looking mittens that she had knitted herself, and Katherine Hepburn’s biography. I gave her toe socks, an organic perfume, and a gift certificate to her favorite spa for a day. She got upset that I’d spent more on her than she had on me, so with a grin, I whispered into her ear the numerous ways in which she could make it up to me.

Julie’s parents exchanged gifts as well. Kathleen got Gareth a fancy humidor for his cigars and Gareth gave her sapphire earrings and a matching sapphire and diamond bracelet. Kathleen gave Julie a fat American Express Gift Check, and I thought it was sad that she didn’t know Julie well enough to realize that Julie would rather have a ten dollar gift that her mother had picked out with Julie in mind, than a thousand dollar check. Julie frowned at Kathleen, but quickly covered it with a smile, thanked her politely, and put the check away.

“Hang on Julie, sweetie, I’ve got something for you, too.” Gareth stood up and retrieved a box from next to the tree. He nodded seriously to Julie as he handed it over. “These are for those kids of yours, the ones you said couldn’t afford them,” he told her, looking uneasy with the whole process of gift-giving, but hopeful. The box was full of scientific calculators for Julie’s students. He hadn’t wrapped it, but it didn’t matter; apparently Gareth actually listened when Julie spoke to him on the phone. I knew I’d liked him.

While waiting nervously for a response from Julie, Gareth said, “Education is the most important thing we can give our children.”

Julie stared at her father with wide eyes and I realized that Gareth was telling her a great deal more with those words than ‘every kid should have a calculator’. Julie was a teacher by choice, by calling, and apparently Gareth shared her convictions and didn’t think she was a fuck-up after all. Julie burst into grateful tears and threw her arms around his neck, and he gave her a thousand-watt smile.

The hordes arrived around four, along with caterers and waiters in black and white, all ready to serve the McHugh family their holiday dinner. There were cousins, aunts, uncles, a gaggle of kids and even a couple of dogs. There was also a great deal of wine and so I don’t recall anyone’s name.

Julie got swept away by family and dinner wasn’t until seven so I went exploring. The house was huge, and I didn’t care much for Kathleen’s taste, but the view was still breathtaking. I sipped my wine and ducked my head into bedroom after bedroom before giving up on the third floor. The second was the main floor where everyone was congregating and I wanted to avoid crowds so I headed down to the first. Gareth’s study was on this floor and I found Robert there talking on his cell phone and punching keys on his computer. I hope I never have to work so hard that I can’t take a holiday off.

Down the hall was a very masculine looking game room with a pool table and darts. It smelled faintly of cigars. Next door I discovered Andrew. He was hanging out alone and playing video game. I leaned in the door and watched for a bit, then got a bit bolder and flopped on the couch beside him.

“All the other kids are upstairs,” I offered.

“Uh huh. That’s why I’m down here.”

“Ah, I see. Too much?”

Andrew nodded. “Too crazy.”

I watched him play for a while. “You’re good at this game, huh?”

“I have it at home. I play it all the time. My friend Jim is better, he’s at like the fifth level.”

“Wow.” I had no idea what the fifth level meant, but Andrew was impressed so I decided I should be. We didn’t say anything more for a long while. I guess I was tired because I nearly dozed off watching him play. Finally, I was startled awake again by his voice.

“When did you figure out you liked girls?” Andrew asked me.

“Uh,” I sat up, blinking myself awake. “What?”

“You like girls right? You’re Aunt Julie’s girlfriend?”

“Well, yes. I am Julie’s girlfriend.” I prefer lover, or even partner, but I wasn’t going to get into all of that with an eleven-year old. Frankly, I didn’t want to get into any of it at all. I looked around to see if by any chance there was someone who was actually related to this kid that could rescue me, but we were still alone.

“Yeah, so when did you figure out you like girls?”

“Um…” Fuckityfuckfuckfuck. I started searching my arsenal of avoidance tactics. Excuse myself the bathroom, point at something shiny… ah! Answer a question with a question. “Well, when did you figure out that you liked girls?”

“I’ve always liked girls,” Andrew said, trying to sound smooth. He was still playing his video game.

“Oh?”

“Girls have boobies. Like Angelina Jolie.”

Ms. Jolie does indeed have nice boobies. I felt as I’d just entered the Twilight Zone, but I couldn’t argue with the kid. “Yes,” I said. “Yes, they do have boobies.”

And with as little as that, we were bonded. Andrew handed me the controller and showed me how to play. Huzzah for boobies.

Eventually Ellen came looking for Andrew to tell him that dinner was ready. She smiled at me and told me with a chuckle that of course I was invited, too. I think she was trying to make a joke, but it was hard to tell above the hollow sound her pea brain was making as it rattled around in her skull.

The food was amazing, and there was so much of it that I envisioned myself, with some dismay, eating nothing but turkey for the remainder of our visit. Gareth and I exchanged a few pleasant words, but Julie and her mother didn’t speak at all. In fact apart from the gift-giving, they hadn’t spoken all day.

A lot of things came up over dinner. People wanted to know how Julie and I met, they wanted to know what I did for a living, and they wanted to know… wait for it… whether or not we were planning a family. Julie chimed in quickly, probably to prevent me from answering.

“Well,” Julie began to explain slowly, but Kathleen interrupted her.

“Of course not,” she said dismissively, and I dreaded what was going to come out next. “Children need a mother and a father, isn’t that right, Julie?”

“Do they?” I noticed that Julie’s sour lemon face looked just like her mother’s. It was scary. “It’s a wonder I survived, then.”

Andrew’s voice chimed in. “You’re going to have a baby Aunt Julie?”

The table went silent. Julie stared at Andrew. I stared at Julie. Kathleen stared at Gareth and finally, Gareth said, “Could someone please pass the mashed potatoes?” and that, thank God, ended the conversation.

Several courses later, Julie and I excused ourselves and went for a walk to rest our stomachs and take in some of the beautiful, crisp, clean, Vail air. It really was beautiful there, I can’t seem to say it enough. The most beautiful place I’d ever been. Too bad I don’t ski.

In lieu of skiing, we spent the remainder of our evening in bed and I let Julie give me the rest of my Christmas gift. She tied my wrists to the bed frame with her new toe socks.

* * *

Early the following morning, the McHugh house was quiet. The cousins and other extended family had all gone home the night before. Julie was still asleep, as were her parents as far as I could tell. Slowly, I made my way down the wide bending stairway and across the slated foyer. The morning sun pierced through the windows aggressively, but somehow failed to warm the chilly, stone floor as sunshine should. I wiggled my toes in my new slippers, grateful for their protection from the cold slate. I made my way through the large dining room and into the kitchen in search of coffee.

The kitchen was magnificent. It was stainless steel and blues and greys with a ceramic tiled floor. One end enjoyed an amazing view, though the windows weren’t as tall as at the other end of the house. I peered out at the mountains. Someone must have been awake because the small Bose radio was on.

“Carmen,” I said aloud, though to no one in particular, as the kitchen appeared empty.

A voice from the pantry replied, however, and I jumped a little. “Julie? Is that you, sweetie-pie? I’m glad you came down, I wanted to talk to you.”

Shit. Kathleen. I was alone with the Mother-In-Law. “Um no, it’s—”

“Gail,” Kathleen stated coolly, cutting me off as she returned from the pantry. “You’re up early.”

“I couldn’t sleep so I came down for some coffee.”

“Coffee doesn’t help you sleep.”

That was such a mother comment. “Well, no, Kathleen, I’d given up on sleeping.”

Kathleen tilted her head at me and asked, “You know Carmen?”

“I love opera.”

“I never would have guessed.”

I shook my head. “I’m thinking there’s a lot about me you would never guess.”

“I don’t know many bartenders who enjoy the opera.” She chuckled slightly and poured herself a cup of coffee, too.

“And how many bartenders do you know, Kathleen?”

She looked at me. “Oh, all right, Gail, very few.”

I looked at her.

“Fine. None. Well, you, that’s one,” she said with an exasperated tone. Her lips went flat. “But you know what I mean.”

“Yes, Kathleen, I know what you mean.” Bartenders are uneducated idiots. I heard her loud and clear. The air went still and quiet and the tension could have fried the eggs she’d left sitting on the counter. Finally I joined in with the radio, singing softly just to break the silence. “L’amour est enfant de bohéme, il n’a jamias connu de loi.”

“That’s French,” Kathleen informed me.

“Love is a gypsy child, he has never heard of law.” I translated, just to make a point, before I realized with no small irony how relevant that phrase was. It wasn’t lost on Kathleen, either.

“Indeed,” she said, looking at me from the other side of the counter with an unreadable expression. I sipped my coffee and tried to pretend that I had made that point on purpose. “Do you love Julie, Gail?” Kathleen asked suddenly, as if she’d been looking for that opening since we’d arrived and had finally found it.

On its face, it was a fair enough question for a mother to ask of her daughter’s lover, so I decided to treat it as if it had been asked fairly. I set my mug down on the counter and looked at Kathleen. “Yes,” I said simply. Kathleen’s eyes seemed to be searching mine for something and I started to wonder in the moment of silence that followed if I’d missed something about her. “Julie is the reason I get out of bed in the morning, Kathleen,” I went on, in case she had any lingering doubts. “She’s my best friend, my crutch, my reality check. She’s my sunshine.”

Kathleen studied me a moment longer and I noticed for the first time that her eyes were hazel like Julie’s, and the same shape. “I believe you,” she said softly, and turned away, reaching into a low cabinet to pull out a frying pan. “Omelet?”

“I’m lesbian not a liar, Kathleen.”

She turned on me and I saw a flash in her eyes that was reminiscent of Julie’s temper. “I’d have asked a man the same question,” she snapped and turned back to the stove, setting the frying pan on it.

I dropped my head with a sigh and nodded, staring at the counter. Damn. I looked up again and blinked at Kathleen’s back before clearing my throat. “Sorry. Of course you would have. It was a fair question.”

“I think it was.”

“It was. Really. I’m just feeling defensive.”

To her credit, Kathleen seemed to get it. “Me too.” She smiled at me over her shoulder. I think it was the first genuine smile I’d seen since we’d arrived. I smiled back and the tension was diffused by our embarrassed laughter.

“I’d love an omelet,” I said finally. “You got mushrooms?”

“In the refrigerator in the little drawer on the left,” Kathleen said, picking up eggs and cracking them into a glass measuring cup. I wasn’t sure what exactly just happened but suddenly I felt lighter and more at ease than I had in days. Kathleen and I didn’t say much more after that, but we whipped up breakfast quite amiably, and by the time Gareth, Julie and her brothers came down to join us we had eggs, muffins, fresh coffee and a plate of fruit on the table.

Julie was wearing sweats and a soft cotton T-shirt and looked sleep-softened and so beautiful that I kissed her before she sat down at the table without thinking about it. She stiffened a little and then pulled away, and I realized with some discomfort that she wasn’t ready to be kissed in front of her parents.

“Relax, baby,” I whispered.

“You’ve been down here with my mother all morning?” she whispered back.

“Yes, it’s fine, we made breakfast,” I assured her, but Julie looked doubtful. “Relax.”

“All right you two, no whispering at the breakfast table,” Kathleen chimed in cheerfully. Julie glanced over at her mother and then back at me, her expression full of questions. I just smiled and winked at her.

“I’ll get you some coffee,” I said, giving Julie’s arm a squeeze and then went to fetch the pot. I wish I hadn’t had my back turned for what happened next.

I heard Kathleen clear her throat. “Lesbianlesbianlesbian,” she said clearly, if just a little bit rushed. I whirled around in time to see everyone at the table momentarily frozen, their expressions caught between shock and amusement. I watched as Kathleen set half a grapefruit down in front of Julie.

“So we’re all speaking finally?” Gareth asked from the head of the table.

Kathleen gave her husband a swat on his balding head and the table erupted in laughter. “Gareth McHugh, don’t borrow trouble,” Kathleen chided in a teasing tone. “Eat your breakfast.” She set a plate of eggs down in front of him.

* * *

It was cold the day we were to fly home. Actually, it was cold every day we were in Vail, but the wind that morning was particularly bitter despite the brilliant sunshine. Julie and I had packed the night before, so while she busied herself with farewells to her various family members, I played anti-social in favor of sipping some coffee and looking out the enormous windows one more time at the magnificent view.

Andrew was sitting with me, playing some handheld video game; an X-2 or a Gamebox or something. Ever since we’d bonded over our love of ‘boobies’ on Christmas Day, he’d been spending most of his time wherever I was in the house. I guess he felt more comfortable with us than with his grandparents. Every so often he would talk back to the game, but he hadn’t said a word to me in close to an hour, so when he finally spoke up he startled me.

“So, Aunt Gail…”

I blinked. “Aunt?” God, that made me sound so fucking old. “Oh God, Andrew, just ‘Gail’. Please.”

“Mother said—”

I was sure he was going to leap into a long admonishment from his mother about respect for one’s elders that was going to make me feel ancient instead of just old so I interrupted him. “Just Gail. Okay?”

Andrew’s brow furrowed thoughtfully, as if he was a having a hard time fitting my request in with his upbringing, and then he finally spoke again. “Gail,” he repeated. “Gail, are you seriously in love with Aunt Julie?”

“Yeah,” I answered easily. “I am seriously in love with Aunt Julie.”

“Aunt Julie is seriously in love with Aunt Gail, too.”

Julie’s voice startled the hell out of me and I jumped off the couch, nearly sending my coffee cup flying. My heart was pounding. “Christ, Julie, you need to make more noise when you’re eavesdropping.”

“She said just ‘Gail’,” Andrew chimed in, apparently not nearly as startled by Julie’s sudden entrance as I had been.

“Well, ‘just Gail’, come out and say goodbye to my parents.”

The whole goodbye scene was not something I’d been looking forward to. Shaking hands, being polite, smiling, thank you’s, none of it was my thing. I decided to play it cool. “I’m kind of busy right now.”

“What?”

“You know, my buddy Andrew and I were just having a little guy talk.”

Julie arched one fine eyebrow. “Gail.”

“Oooh. Fight!” Andrew climbed up to sit on the back of his chair and left his electronic widget on the table. It beeped and chattered annoyingly.

I bristled. “We’re not fighting.”

Julie put her hands on her hips and flashed mock-threatening eyes at me. “Gail Anne Pietrowski, if you—”

“Pietrowski?” Andrew parroted.

“Shh!” I waved a hand at Andrew. “For Christ’s sake Julie, let’s not let your mother find out I’m a Polack, too, she might burst something.”

Julie stepped into the room so it was harder to ignore her. Then she came around in front of me and sat beside me on the couch and there was no escaping those green eyes. “If you’re going to make them wait, let’s at least have a good excuse. How about you start with the part where you are seriously in love with ‘Aunt Julie’?”

I looked at her and smiled. I thought about throwing back something sarcastic, but there was no point in trying to deny her anything. “I am seriously in love with Aunt Julie.” I repeated, holding her gaze. Julie was so beautiful with the sunlight in her hair. I licked my lips as my mouth went dry.

“You are?”

“Yeah. I mean, yes,” I answered with the slight correction. Julie was always complaining that I sounded like one of her teenagers. “Yes, I am.”

“Are you guys gonna kiss, because I’m so outta here if you are.” Andrew demanded from his perch across the room.

Julie nodded slowly, not taking her eyes off me. “I think we are.”

“Ew!” Andrew shouted and hopped off of his chair. “Gross.”

“Bye, kid. Tell your grandparents we’ll be a minute.” I said, pulling Julie into my arms.

Andrew had to have the last word. “Lesbiablesbianlesbian!” he taunted as he ran from the room.

Switching Sides

Beth Wylde

I rushed into my dorm room and slammed the door shut behind me. For the first time since starting college, I was extremely glad not to have a roommate. My hair felt like a rat’s nest and my outfit was a crumpled mess. I looked like I’d slept in my clothes, even though I hadn’t actually slept in anything but my birthday suit. In fact, I hadn’t really slept much last night at all. If anyone saw me now they would know immediately that I’d spent the night getting laid and that the sex had been good. To be perfectly honest, the sex had been fucking amazing. I’d done things last night, and had things done to me, that I didn’t think were humanly possible. I’m still not sure they are. The whole encounter seemed almost surreal now that I was alone but I knew it had really happened. The growing soreness between my legs was solid proof of our wild sexual encounter, and I missed Kara already even though I’d only been in my room for about five minutes.

I couldn’t believe I had a girlfriend now. Me, the girl who had always been willing to open her pants at the drop of a hat for sex with just about any member of the male species, had gone gay. The sad part was that now that I’d been with another woman, I knew I could never go back to guys. I’d found something last night that I’d been searching for forever: companionship. Kara was more than just someone I enjoyed being in bed with, though God knows the time we’d spent horizontal was phenomenal. She was also someone I could relate to. Someone I felt comfortable with, in the bed and out of it.

Kara and I hadn’t just had sex with each other; we’d made love. Something up until now, I thought only existed in fairytales. We also talked, laughed and even snuggled, which was totally out of the ordinary for me on a date. But after yesterday’s new revelation about myself I needed some time to think. A long, cold shower was also in order if I was ever going to get my mind to contemplate anything besides the thorough loving I’d received last night.

I raised my tank top to my nose and inhaled deeply. I hated the thought of washing it. The subtle scent of sweat and sex and Kara’s feminine perfume still clung to the garment. One sniff of the combination had me wet and the thought of some of the things we’d done to each other started a fresh river flowing between my thighs. As I flopped down on my bed it was all I could do to reach for my journal instead of my vibrator, but I needed to sort out the jumbled thoughts in my mind. I knew the best way to do that was by writing down the entire encounter in my journal. I also knew I had to write quickly because I still needed to get clean and dressed before meeting Kara for our lunch date.

* * *

Saturday March 4, 2007

The most incredible thing just happened to me. I’ve always been attracted to guys. Ever since I lost my virginity at the age of sixteen, I’ve been pretty straightforward with all of my dates about the fact that I’m looking for, and enjoy, sex.

Yesterday Brad and I went out on our third date. I met him a few weeks ago at the campus library while doing research for a psychology paper. Something about his quiet and shy demeanor turned me on. I think the attraction was more the challenge he seemed to represent because, truthfully, he wasn’t all that good-looking.

He took me out to an early dinner last night at a little club in town that I’d never been to before. He spent the evening sitting across from me, acting like the perfect gentleman. It drove me nuts. He hadn’t even tried to kiss me yet. I’d been dropping subtle sexual hints the entire time, but he seemed totally clueless to my advances. Finally, I decided to throw tact out the window and tried to outright seduce him. I slipped off my shoe and slowly moved my foot up until it rested between his legs. The minute I started to fondle his cock with my toes, he jumped up out of his seat, mumbled something about a missed appointment, and shot out of the restaurant as if I’d lit a rocket up his ass.

His quick departure left me all alone and stuck with the check. I was extremely glad we had only ordered drinks because I didn’t have a lot of cash on me to cover the bill. I finished my strawberry daiquiri and waved towards the waiter. As he headed in my direction, I bent over to grab my purse. When I sat back up, I noticed I had company. Kara Nouveau, a student in my art class whose dorm room was two doors down from mine, now occupied Brad’s empty chair. She was shaking her head and chuckling loudly. Her reaction was so odd I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “What’s so funny?”

“I couldn’t help but notice what just happened between you and Brad.”

I shrugged nonchalantly but the tone of my voice clearly reflected my irritation. “Yeah, so?”

“Well, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but he isn’t interested in you.”

I frowned. “I think his reaction was a pretty good indication of that.”

Kara laughed even louder this time. “No, I mean he’s not interested in women at all.”

I stiffened, thinking surely she wasn’t implying what I thought she was. As she opened her mouth to speak, I braced myself.

“He’s gay. I thought you knew.”

I shook my head in disbelief while Kara scooted her chair sideways until her leg was touching mine. “There’s more.” I felt the undeniable sensation of her hand on my knee as her fingers slowly crept up my thigh. She leaned over until her breath whispered across my ear. “You’re also in a gay bar.”

If Kara hadn’t had her hand on my leg, I would have fallen out of my chair. My gaze darted left and right, noticing two guys chatting intimately at the bar and three girls in close conversation at a nearby table. The rest of the restaurant was empty.

Kara reached out with her free hand and gently cupped my chin, turning me back to face her. “It’s still early. It doesn’t get crowded in here until around ten or so because the club stays open until nearly dawn.”

As her fingers tightened their grip I suddenly realized how Brad must have felt, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it because Kara had more enlightening news for me. “The only reason he brought you here was because he thought you were gay, too.”

I gasped audibly, shocked that someone might think such a thing about me. While it was true that I had a bit of a kinky streak in the bedroom that most guys seemed unable to handle, it was obvious that I wasn’t a lesbian. At least I thought it was. “I…I…I’m not.”

Kara shook her head and I shivered as I felt her long brown hair glide over my shoulder and across my neck. The feeling was distracting and more arousing than it should have been. “Are you sure?”

My voice was raspy, whether with shock or desire at this point I wasn’t sure. “What?”

Her hand moved higher until she found the inseam of my low-rise camouflage capris, and I swore I could feel my panties getting damp. “I said, are you sure?”

I nodded, but my reply sounded weak, even to my own ears. “I like guys.”

Her fingers felt like magic between my legs and, as she increased the pressure just where I needed it, I suddenly wished the cloth barrier between her hand and my pussy would disappear.

“That’s fine,” she replied before leaning in and quickly sucking my earlobe into her mouth. “The question is, do you like girls too?”

I started to say no when she pressed the palm of her hand hard against my clit. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out except for a loud groan. She smiled knowingly at me, and something inside my brain exploded. I suddenly wanted to know if her lips felt as soft as they looked and, considering where we were, I decided to take a chance and find out.

I leaned forward, keeping my eyes open until the last moment, and focused directly on Kara. Her pupils dilated slightly in shock, and then appreciation, as our mouths met.

The first few kisses were chaste and timid. I was exploring totally uncharted territory and felt very unsure about what I was doing. Kara noticed my hesitancy and took control. Her eagerness to dominate aroused me immediately and dissolved the last of my inhibitions. When her tongue slid across my lips, I threw myself headlong into the kiss. I wasn’t disappointed with my decision.

I’ve kissed lots of guys, and enjoyed most of them, but what Kara was doing to my mouth felt almost obscene. I was so hot I couldn’t sit still. I rocked forward in my seat, and Kara’s hand pressed back against me, teasing and stroking me until I wanted to scream. I arched my back and broke away with a gasp. I was on fire, and I needed to come so badly I was about to beg for it. Sudden applause halted my plea, though, and as I looked around, I noticed all eyes were on us. My face reddened in embarrassment, but Kara just looked pleased. She threw a twenty on the table, grabbed my hand, and pulled me out of the restaurant behind her.

Once outside, I started to question my actions until we rounded the corner and she pulled me into the alley, pushing me up against the wall of the bar. There was nothing restrained about our kiss this time. She plundered my mouth while her hands stayed busy on the rest of my body. I felt like I was going to shatter at any minute. My knees were weak and I was afraid I’d fall, but Kara tightened her grip on my upper arms and pressed her body against mine to help hold me upright. Her hands slid under my tank top to caress my breasts as her knee wedged in between my legs. When she moved her thigh back and forth, I cried out.

“Oh God!”

“That’s it,” she urged as her hands dropped to my waist and encouraged me to rock against her. “Ride me. Show me how you like it.”

I was grinding back actively now, aching for a release that was just out of my reach when she pulled back suddenly enough that I almost screamed.

“My roommate has gone home for the weekend.”

It took me a moment to realize what she was asking. She wanted me to go back to her room with her and there was no doubt in my mind about what would happen if I did. I didn’t even need to think it over.

“Yes.”

Her lush lips parted in a sultry smile and, before I knew it, we were running down the sidewalk hand in hand. We stopped in front of a stunning red Corvette and, as she pulled the keys out of the front pocket of her skintight jeans, I realized I was more interested in admiring her figure than looking at the gorgeous car.

She was tall and thin, with legs that looked incredibly long and a nice, curvy ass. Her skin was a deep bronze color and her dark brown hair hung in waves down her back. The crop top she was wearing showed off her small breasts, which were obviously unrestrained by a bra, something that my thirty-eight D’s could never do without. She had a beautifully flat stomach and, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the twinkle of a rhinestone barbell piercing her navel. I had the urge to run my hands over her rear and decided to do so as she bent over to unlock my door.

She gave me a heated look over her shoulder, and I nearly ignited on the spot. She opened the door, and I dove inside, eager to get back to the business at hand. When she slid into the driver’s seat, I took another moment to admire her. I realized I must have been staring because she questioned me about it.

“Is something wrong?”

I shook my head, but I didn’t know how to voice what I was thinking. She paused with the key in the ignition and turned to face me. “You don’t have to be shy with me. You can tell me anything.”

I nodded, but it still took me a minute to find the right choice of words. “I’m a little nervous.”

She gave my knee a reassuring pat as she cranked the car and it roared to life. “I won’t do anything to you that you don’t want me to do.” She cleared her throat as she pressed the gas and pulled away from the curb. “I have a confession to make.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I asked Brad to bring you to the club today.”

“You did?”

She nodded, her eyes never leaving the road as she sped back to the college. “I’ve been watching you.”

“Why?”

Her face took on a surprised look. “For one thing, you’re beautiful.”

“No, I’m not.”

The car stopped as the light in front of us turned red, and she looked sideways at me. “Yes, you are.” She raked her eyes over me from head to toe. “I’m surprised you’ve never noticed me staring at you in our art class. You’ve got great tits and a luscious ass. Your long, blonde hair is just the icing on a very yummy-looking cake. When you approached Brad, I figured you knew he was gay and you were just looking for a friend to hang out with. You go through guys faster than some people change clothes. I thought maybe you were trying to hide the fact that you were a lesbian. At least I hoped that was the reason.” She paused a moment before continuing. “I’ve wanted to fuck you ever since I first laid eyes on you.”

My arousal had been slowly receding, but her bold statement brought the heat rushing back in a tidal wave of lust. I wanted to make Kara feel the same way. As we pulled into the college parking lot, I contemplated making my first real move. We sat there for a moment in silence before she turned to face me.

“Do you still want to do this?”

Instead of words, I let my actions speak for me. I put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a serious lip lock. This time it was Kara that had to come up for air. The look she gave me was so intense I thought I might melt.

“Good. Let’s go inside.”

The halls were nearly empty as we made our way to her room, but I had expected as much. It was eight o’clock on a Friday night. Everyone was either on a date or out relieving their stress some other way after a week of hard studying.

It only took a few minutes before I found myself inside Kara’s room. The instant the door closed she made her move. Once again, I found myself pressed between Kara’s tight body and a wall. This time though, I wanted to be a more active participant.

I almost couldn’t speak as Kara found one of my hot spots and began nipping and kissing her way across my collarbone. “Kara?” My voice was husky.

“Hmm?”

“Can I…Can I see you?”

Her voice was muffled against my skin. “I’m right here.”

I shook my head and eased her away. “No. I mean I want to see you, touch you…” My voice dropped to a whisper as I thought about all the places on her body that I wanted to explore. “I want to taste you.”

Kara shivered. “Oh, yes!”

I moved my hands from where they’d been perched on her hips, raising her shirt slowly as I traced my way up her sides. She raised her arms willingly, and I pulled the garment over her head. It was then that I got my first long look at another woman’s breasts. I liked what I saw.

Her small boobs were perky in a way mine would never be. Her nipples were dark and just begging to be touched and sucked. I reached out and ran my fingers slowly over the hard peaks, cupping her breasts in my palms and rolling her nipples between my thumb and forefinger the way I liked to have it done. Kara closed her eyes, arched her chest towards me, and moaned. I took that as a positive sign and grew even bolder. When I bent down and licked my way around her nipple in a circular motion before taking it into my mouth she cried out.

“The bed! I need to get you naked and in my bed…now!”

I stood and started to strip off my top, but she stopped me. “I want to do that. I want to strip you down and nibble on every inch of your bare skin. I want to eat you until you come screaming my name.”

I couldn’t wait any longer. My panties were drenched. I moved forward suddenly. The motion was unexpected, and she stepped back instinctively. I continued my slow advance until her knees hit the mattress and she fell backwards. I wasted no time in joining her.

We fell onto the bed, kissing and caressing while fighting for position. Since Kara was the one with experience, I gave up the battle and let her win. The decision wasn’t tough for me since I usually end up being on the receiving end anyway when I’m out on a date with a guy. Men seem to prefer to be the ones in charge, and I usually let them have their way even though I often end up disappointed at the end of the night.

We came to a breathless halt with Kara on top, straddling my waist. The sight of her lovely body looming above me, covered in a light sheen of sweat from our struggle, was exciting and I realized that I really did like Kara assuming the dominant role.

She leaned forward until her pert breasts were even with my face. I rose up slightly and kissed the tips of both before using my tongue on them thoroughly. While I engaged in a lengthy exploration of her chest, she grabbed the hem of my tank top and jerked upwards. The move forced my mouth away from her luscious skin and as the shirt snagged on my arms and face I fought to get loose. Kara laughed and tugged the shirt higher but still didn’t pull it all the way off. She kept her hands on my upper arms, keeping them extended above my head with my hands still trapped in the top.

I twisted slightly to help her finish removing it, but she just shook her head at me and flattened my arms to the bed. I watched in awe as she leaned down and used her teeth to unhook the front closure on my bra. She used her chin to push the lacy material to the side, and then nuzzled her face in the valley created by my overabundant breasts. The gentle slide of her soft mouth on my skin made me crazy. I was nearly delirious with want when she turned her head to the left and sucked me into her mouth.

She started out soft at first with a delicate lick and flick of her tongue over my nipple. When I vocalized my approval, she got down to business. My top and bra unexpectedly went flying across the room where they landed in a heap on the floor. My hands were suddenly free to touch her, and her hands were free to roam over my body as well. She took full advantage of the situation, cupping my twin globes as she moved her head back and forth between them in a frenzy that had me screaming out from the sensation. My head thrashed back and forth as she grew bolder and began to use not only her hands and mouth, but also her teeth.

I gripped her back, raking my fingers up and down her spine in a sexual frenzy that only seemed to excite her more. I managed to work my way around to her waist to undo the snap on her tight jeans when she pulled back with my nipple captured securely between her lips. I totally forgot what I was doing as I watched the skin stretch tight, and then heard the audible pop as she opened her mouth and let go. I shivered at the erotic sight as well as the feeling of the cool room air as it blew over my newly dampened skin.

Kara sat up and looked down at where my fingers had gripped her waistband in an effort to anchor myself to reality. “Are you doing okay so far?”

The question was asked in a playful tone, but my response was dead serious. “I think you’re trying to kill me.”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “Why would you say that?”

I paused and took a deep breath to try and settle myself even though I knew the breather wasn’t likely to help. “Because I’ve been barely hanging on since you first kissed me, and I don’t know how much more teasing I can take.”

She smiled devilishly. “Sweetie this isn’t teasing, this is foreplay.”

I shook my head. “No, this is teasing. Foreplay only takes about two minutes, or however long it takes for me and the guy to get naked. My dates are usually more concerned about getting themselves off than making me feel good. That’s why I don’t stick around with any of them.”

She sighed. “Oh honey, that’s why lesbians are such great lovers. We know what we like, and we can give our partner the same lengthy attention that we crave in bed.” Kara wiggled her pelvis suggestively against mine. “And you don’t have to worry about recovery time. Nothing ever goes limp when a girl is fucking you.” Her tone was sultry and made me even wetter, which I didn’t think was possible. “I can give you as many orgasms as you can handle, until you pass out from the sheer pleasure of it.”

I closed my eyes and pictured every possible way that Kara could make me come. I moaned. I couldn’t help myself. Her lewd language turned me on almost as much as her heavy petting. I rubbed my thighs together, desperate for friction where I needed it most. I was so high-strung that the lightest touch against my overheated pussy would likely send me over the edge, but at the moment I wasn’t even sure it would take that much. If she kept talking dirty to me, I thought I just might be able to finish without any physical stimulation at all.

Kara was all smiles as she pried my hands off her opened zipper and raised herself up off me enough to divest herself of her jeans. As she slithered out of them, along with her shoes and socks, I realized two things. First, I hadn’t seen her remove any underwear and second, she was completely shaved. She caught sight of my stunned look and grinned even bigger. “I like to go commando sometimes, especially when the pants are really tight. The pressure of the inseam hits my clit just right when I sit down.” She smoothed her hand over her hairless skin in a blatantly seductive move. “And being totally waxed makes me extra sensitive.”

“Oh god!”

She laughed at my obvious sexual frustration as she unbuttoned my capri pants. “Do you want my hands on you? Is that what you need?” I raised my hips up to help her as she pulled off my pants. I realized that my sandals had come off sometime earlier, but I wasn’t sure when and I didn’t really care.

I waited for her to remove my panties, but she just paused as she noticed my red thong.

“Do you like them?” I asked, a bit self-consciously.

She snapped out of her trance, tracing one finger down my abdomen and along the edge of the panties until her hand rested just centimeters from where I needed it to be. She slid her finger under the skimpy material and pulled it just a hair’s breadth away from my skin before letting go in a swift motion. The sound of the elastic snapping back against my hip was loud in the sudden silence.

“I like them very much. I’d love to see you spread out in front of me with them on while I pull them to the side and slide my tongue deep inside you until you scream. Do you think you would enjoy that?”

My mouth went dry and I had to swallow forcefully several times before I could answer. “Yes. I’d let you do anything you wanted to do to me at this point if you’d just let me come.”

She tugged my underwear down and parted my thighs, situating herself in between my legs until our completely naked bodies were finally touching together. “Oh, baby, we are just getting started.” She raised her lower body away from mine in a modified push-up position so she could study the little landing strip of hair I kept in a neatly trimmed patch. She shifted suddenly, leaning all her weight on one arm so she could use the other hand to fondle me. “Since you obviously haven’t been getting the treatment you deserve lately, I’ll take it easy on you the first time. How do you want it?”

The question was too much for my lust-addled brain to process. “I…I don’t understand?”

Her look was patient and sympathetic as she pulled away and sat up between my thighs. “Do you want my mouth?” She leaned down and circled my navel with her tongue before plunging inside the small hole and retreating. “Or do you want something more like a cock inside you?” Kara reached inside her nightstand and pulled out a long, skinny silver vibrator. She flipped it on and ran it down my upper leg and up the inside of my thigh before turning it off and tossing it on the pillow next to my head. “Or how about my finger?”

I was sure she was going to tease me again, but this time she didn’t. She slid her hand right between my legs and cupped my mound in her palm. When she used her other hand to spread my lips apart and thrust one finger inside me, I let out a holler that could have shattered glass. I rotated my hips, raising my body up and forcing her deeper. Another finger joined the first, and that was all it took. The sensation shook my body all over until I thought I was having a convulsion. I gripped the sheets and screamed until my throat was hoarse, but she never stopped. She just kept moving inside of me, building up the wave before it fully receded.

I started to protest. “No, I…I can’t…I can’t take it again so soon.”

“Oh, yes you can, and you will. Several more times. All night long.”

The pressure was building, and I didn’t think my heart could take it. The orgasm had been mind-bending, but Kara still had a few tricks up her sleeve. The two fingers inside me were joined by a third. The slight pain felt wonderful and I began to ache for another release. “Harder!”

“Mmmm, you like it rough?”

I nodded, totally incapable of speech at the time. She curled her fingers upwards until she was pressing towards the front wall of my vagina. I started to question the action when she brushed over a sensitive spot that nearly made me cry with pleasure. She repeated the motion over and over again until I thought for sure I’d faint. The sounds coming from my mouth weren’t even coherent. I was gasping and grunting like an animal in heat. Kara seemed to love every minute of it.

She kept up the brutal pace as she moved her lower body over mine until she was straddling my thigh. As she continued her assault on my body, I felt her grinding her soaking wet pussy against my leg. I shifted to spread myself wider and Kara pressed down harder. I arched my back and groaned. I was going to burst any moment.

I reached down and used my hand to find her clit. As she moved back and forth, I tapped the hard nub and rubbed it in a circular motion. She did the finger curl again, and I bucked beneath her.

“What are you doing?”

It took her a moment to respond. “I found your magic spot.”

It was hard to answer, but I did it. “There’s no such thing.”

Kara totally stopped all movement and stared at me in disbelief. “You are kidding, right?”

“No one has ever touched me the way you just did. It feels strange. Good, but almost so good it borders on pain.”

“Oh baby, no wonder you kept jumping from man to man.” She slowly lifted herself off me and settled her shoulders in between my spread legs. “It’s a wonder you didn’t go gay years ago.” As she spoke, her breath blew warmly over my swollen lips. She looked up from her position between my thighs and I had to giggle. It was an awfully delicate place for her to be staring at while we chatted.

“What’s so funny?”

It took me a minute to gain my composure. “It looks like you’re talking to my pussy.”

She thought the idea was humorous as well. “Will it talk back?”

She demonstrated her question by leaning in and mumbling softly before running her tongue from the bottom of my opening up to my clit. The movement was slow and sensual and the joking made me feel more comfortable. “It says to do that again.”

“My pleasure.” And it must have been because she began licking me like I was an ice cream cone melting on a hot summer’s day. Her speed varied from fast to agonizingly slow. Sometimes she used just the tip of her tongue and other times she flattened the muscle out until it touched nearly all of me at once.

My arousal had dampened during our playful banter, but now it flared back full force. She slid her fingers back inside me as she continued her oral assault and probed for just the right spot. When she found it again she curled her fingers and pressed tenderly. I felt the moisture ooze out and she lapped it up greedily.

“That’s it. I want you to come in my mouth. I’m going to eat you up.”

My hands found their way down to her head, and I twined them in her long, brown curls. “Don’t stop. Whatever you’re doing, please don’t stop!”

I felt her lips draw upwards as her mouth curled into a smile against my tender skin. “I won’t stop until you beg me to.”

I pushed up on my elbows, watching her while she worked me towards the brink once again, but my eyes finally slid closed from the overwhelming sensation of what she was doing. “I’m close, so close. Good God!”

I was moving now, pushing myself against her mouth and holding her head between my legs. Kara didn’t complain at all as she whispered her commands against my flesh. “Open your eyes. I want you to watch me. I want you to know who you’re in bed with.”

I forced my eyes open and they locked with hers as she stared at me over my belly. All of my muscles were tense, bracing me for an orgasm unlike any I’d ever had. I knew it was going to be different, but I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was so turned on, but curiosity and fear were still present in my mind. Kara talked encouragingly to me in between licks and kisses.

“Don’t be scared. I’m here for you no matter what happens. Just let go. It’ll be so good, I promise.”

I took her at her word and let down my guard, pushing all my inhibitions away and giving in to the totally amazing feelings that the beautiful woman between my legs was causing. Kara noticed my decision and nodded in agreement before she twisted her hand and sucked my clit into her mouth. The effect was instantaneous and earth-shattering. I came up off the bed with a gasp and a shout of pure ecstasy. Liquid poured out from between my thighs as I came harder than I ever had in my life. If anyone was in the dorm, they knew exactly what was going on in room two-o-four.

Before I could question what Kara had just made me do, she stabbed her tongue deep inside of me, lapping furiously at the large amount of fluid I had produced, like a cat with an endless supply of cream. I felt the caress from my head to my toes as the powerful aftershocks I’d been experiencing immediately crested into strong contractions that seized up every muscle in my body. Tears were running down my cheeks from the sheer strength of the pleasure and I was sure that if she forced me to another orgasm my heart would stop.

It took nearly all my strength to reach down and gently push her away. “Stop. No more. I need a few minutes to catch my breath.”

I heard her chuckle as she kept on exploring me, and I fell back limply against the bed. After what seemed like an eternity, she lifted her face from between my thighs. Her cheeks and chin were shiny with my juices. She smiled broadly at me and licked her lips in a slow, sensuous movement that made my eyes widen because it was so erotic. Then she wiped her face and sucked each of her fingers into her mouth, one by one, as if she couldn’t bear the thought of wasting one drop of my come.

I was lightheaded, wrung out, and sexually sated in a way that left me feeling completely boneless and happy. I knew I was grinning drunkenly as Kara flopped down on the bed next to me. I wanted to question what had just happened, but I didn’t have the energy to do it. I had to compliment her on her remarkable control, though. I knew she had denied herself release while she’d concentrated on my needs and I felt bad about that, but the feeling of near exhaustion made it impossible for me to return the favor at the moment. I vowed mentally to make it up to her after a bit of rest.

The feel of Kara’s hand softly stroking my cheek made me open my eyes, which I didn’t realize had slid shut. She pulled me into her arms, and it felt so right to be cuddled up next to her with our bodies pressed tightly together. I burrowed deeper into the embrace and laid my head on her chest, sighing in contentment as I listened to the steady sound of her heartbeat. Kara ran her fingers though my hair, massaging my scalp in a hypnotic motion designed to soothe and comfort, and I fought off sleep for a moment to enjoy the rare sensation of some glorious post-sex snuggling.

Men never seemed willing to stick around in bed with me and just relax after the sex was over. I had some questions I desperately needed Kara to answer, and I was experiencing so many new emotions, too. At the moment though I didn’t have the energy for deep conversation and, after having the most amazing orgasm in the world, I wasn’t sure my brain cells were functioning enough to even try to talk.

I could feel Kara’s head against mine as she shook it slowly and giggled. “Stop thinking so hard. I can see steam coming out of your ears.”

My voice was quiet and drowsy. “You can not.”

“Yes, I can. I don’t know what you’re trying to work out, but I can tell you’re exhausted, especially if that really was your first ever g-spot orgasm. Go on and take a nap and we’ll talk when you wake up.”

My reply this time was even quieter. “Okay, but I feel bad about what just happened.”

I felt her tense. “Why?”

“Because I had all the fun and you didn’t.”

She relaxed immediately. “Oh, I had plenty of fun.” She took my hand and placed it between her legs, where she pressed it against her pussy. I could feel the wetness that coated her inner thighs. “Watching you got me so hot. The way you responded to each and every touch was the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. I’ve enjoyed every minute of what we’ve shared together so far. Now, go on and rest so I can finish with you when you wake up.”

I gulped audibly. “You mean you’re not done with me yet?”

“Oh baby, no, not by a long shot. This was just a little taste of what it can be like between two women.”

I wondered for a minute if I hadn’t bitten off more than I could chew with Kara but then I fell asleep and didn’t have any more time to worry about it.

I woke to the feeling of someone stroking a hand up and down my side, occasionally moving over to stroke my breasts or dip between my legs, in an all-too-quick caress, before disappearing to cover more skin elsewhere. It took me a few minutes to remember where I was and who I was in bed with. I must have made some sound because Kara stopped her investigation immediately. “I was wondering when you’d wake up. Did you sleep well?”

“Y…ye...” My voice sounded ragged and I was pretty sure it would be completely gone by morning from all the screams she’d pulled out of me earlier. After her performance, though, losing my voice would be a small price to pay for what I’d experienced. I cleared my throat and tried speaking again. “Yes, but I had a really weird dream.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

I shook my head. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because it involved you and me, and what we were doing was very naughty.”

She ran her hand back down my side and over in between my legs, lingering long enough to feel the new moisture that had built up there from my wickedly hot dream.

“Oh, it was that kind of dream. I love those, even though most of the time you wake up horny and alone afterwards. Guess it’s a good thing you’re in bed with someone.”

I didn’t reply immediately because I was still thinking about what we’d done earlier and wondering why I was so at ease with it.

Kara noticed my silence and questioned me. “You’re really quiet. What are you thinking about?”

“You, me and what happened earlier.”

Her hand pulled away from between my thighs and came to rest on my stomach. “You didn’t like it?”

I shook my head slightly, rubbing my face in her cleavage. “Oh no, I loved every minute of it, but I’m confused about something and I’m trying to figure out how to ask you about it. Plus, I still feel bad because you didn’t get to enjoy it the way I did.”

She giggled as I rose up and placed light butterfly kisses back and forth across her neck and shoulders. “That tickles.”

I laid my head back down and began toying with one nipple with my finger.

“Mmmm, that’s nice. Now what were you confused about?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Nothing between lovers is ever stupid. Don’t ever feel like you have to be embarrassed with me.”

I looked up at her with shock and awe on my face. “Is that what we are? Lovers?”

She nodded. “What would you call us?”

My voice was quiet as I replied. “I don’t know.”

“Think about it. The definition of a lover is one or both of the partners in a sexual relationship. I would definitely call what we just did sexual and I’m hoping for more than a one-night stand with you. I like you. I’m also attracted to you and I think you’re attracted to me as well, at least I hope so. I want you to feel comfortable around me. I want sex with you, but I want a friendship too. A companion, a partner, a lover. Is that what you want?”

I had to think about that for a moment. She was offering me something that no man had ever offered me. In the short time we’d been together, she had made me feel more amazing and cherished than any one of my previous so-called boyfriends had. Was I attracted to Kara? I looked down at her nude body. The answer to that question was a pretty definite yes. As for the comfort factor, I was much calmer with her now than I had been in the beginning, but I was always nervous at the start of a new relationship.

I realized something at that moment; Kara and I really were taking steps towards building something that could easily become serious. The thought didn’t scare me. I was willing to acknowledge the change and open myself up to the possibility of Kara and me becoming an exclusive couple. In fact, I was actually looking forward to it. “I think I would like that. I don’t know what all that entails right now, but the idea is very pleasant.” My hand began to wander across her belly. “I’ve enjoyed being with you, and not just the sex, though so far that has been incredible. It’s nice to be able to talk to you instead of being shoved out the door.”

“Does that happen to you a lot?”

I was too busy playing with the sparkling jewel in her tummy to hear her question. “What?”

“Do you get thrown out a lot after sex?”

“Yeah, actually I do. I never seem to attract the right type of guy. We meet, we have sex, and then he wants me gone so he can study, or meet his boys for a drink, or some other type of bullshit. It’s always some sad excuse that makes me feel like I’m nothing but a play toy for them. Just a way to pass the time until they find something better to do.”

The outrage in Kara’s voice was easy to recognize. “Elizabeth, that is just disgusting. Men are mostly just a bunch of worthless jerks who wouldn’t recognize a good woman if she kicked him in the balls. Only a real woman knows how another woman needs and wants to be treated.” She reached down with her hand and covered mine where it rested against her dark skin, tangling our fingers together. “Although I am glad that none of them decided to keep you. It means that I got a chance to show you how great we can be with each other.”

“Oh, we’re more than great. What you just did to my body was electrifying. Even though I still don’t know why I came like I did.”

She chuckled softly. “You mean the flood?”

I nodded shyly. “Yeah.”

“You’ve really never had a g-spot orgasm before?”

“I’ve never had anything done to me that felt like that.”

“You definitely were dating the wrong guys if none of them ever took the time to find your best erogenous zone.”

“I thought for a minute that I’d wet the bed.” I could feel the heat of a deep blush creeping over my cheeks.

“G-spot orgasms almost always make you squirt like that. It’s the female version of ejaculation and it feels so damn good.”

“Yeah, it did. Can I ask you another question?”

“Anything.”

I pushed myself up until I could look her right in the face. I’d had time to catch my breath and now I wanted to give her the type of mind-bending experience she’d treated me to earlier. “Do you mind if I try to find your g-spot?”

Kara’s eyes dilated, and I knew the answer before she even replied. “Yes, please.”

The needy sound in her voice made me want to find and explore each and every erogenous zone on her body until she was as sexually sated as I had been earlier. My only concern was the fact that she was experienced in being with another woman and I wasn’t.

As I was contemplating my lack of skill, I felt sure Kara had noticed my sudden halt. I wanted to explain the reason for my delay.

“I love your body.” I stroked my hand hesitantly over her small breasts. “I want to show you how amazing I think you are.” I paused to place a sucking kiss on each erect tip. “I want to watch you moan and writhe and call my name when I push you over the edge. I want to worship every inch of your body the way it deserves to be worshipped, but I’m also afraid.”

The look on her face was reassuring and kind. “What are you afraid of?”

“I don’t want to disappoint you because of my inexperience. I want to please you, but I’m not sure how to do it.”

She cupped my chin in the palm of her hand, moving my face slightly so I had to look her in the eyes. “Baby, don’t worry so much. Sex isn’t a battle. You don’t need to devise a plan of attack before you start. Just calm down and let yourself enjoy the moment. Everything will work itself out if you just relax and go with your instincts. We all have our own style of love making and when you’re being intimate with someone you care about, who also cares deeply for you, then you can’t make a mistake.”

I looked over at the silver vibrator that was still lying next to the pillow where Kara had thrown it earlier and a wonderful idea suddenly formed in my head. I directed my gaze toward the table next to her bed. “Do you have any massage oil in your toy drawer?”

She nodded but also looked a bit inquisitive as well. “Yes, I have some. Can I be nosy and ask why you need it?”

I reached over and opened the nightstand drawer. Inside were the normal sexual toys that most college girls kept hidden in their rooms for those off-times when they didn’t have a boyfriend or woke up needing release at odd hours during the night. One item though was so shocking that I had to stifle a gasp and try to keep my face from betraying my emotion.

I tried to look calm as I rifled around for the bottle of oil but the sight of a large, blue, rubber, double-ended dildo had been quite a shocking find. I pushed it to the side, almost afraid to touch it because of the sheer size of the tool, and found the bottle of warming massage oil hidden underneath it. I pulled it out and shut the drawer immediately, hoping Kara hadn’t noticed me acting oddly.

While I studied the bottle, I caught sight of her face out of the corner of my eye. She seemed curious but didn’t look like she’d noticed anything unusual. I took a deep breath and moved on to the next stage in my plan of seduction. “Turn over.”

She did as I asked without hesitation. It was another plus in my book. Most guys would have argued against the command, or flat out refused, but she just did as I asked without any fuss.

I poured the cool oil across her shoulders and dribbled a bit down her spine. She squirmed and squeaked as the cold liquid came into contact with her hot skin. “Lord, that’s cold.”

I capped the bottle and laid it next to me on the bed near the vibrator. “It’ll warm up soon.”

I began kneading her shoulders, working the oil across her skin and into the base of her neck. My mother had decided to open her own hair salon to help keep her busy once she found out I’d been accepted into college. Dad had balked at first until she hired someone else to do the massages. I spent quite a lot of time after hours with the masseuse. I was glad I had because the lessons were definitely coming in handy at the moment.

I worked my way downwards, paying special attention to each vertebra as I went lower and lower. Kara was moaning with pleasure, writhing against the bed in a move reminiscent of a kitten with an endless supply of catnip.

I watched her body, marveling at how the oil seemed to make her dark skin glow in the dim light of the lamp. The scent of strawberries filled the room, combining with the already powerful aroma of sex, and I couldn’t resist a small taste. I continued the massage, now working my hands into the small of her back just above the delicious swell of her ass, and leaned down to lick a line up her spine, rolling the unique taste of strawberries and Kara around on my tongue as they mixed together in my mouth. I wanted to taste more of her.

“Your hands are incredible. I may have to keep you around just for your amazing backrubs.”

I took the comment as the compliment it was meant to be. “Now flip over and let me do your front.”

She laughed. “Yes, please do my front.”

I smacked her lightly on the ass before she managed to turn onto her back. “Someone has their mind in the gutter. This is just a standard massage, nothing kinky about it.” I tilted my head sideways and gave her the most innocent look I could muster. When she burst out laughing, I knew I had failed miserably.

“Do you normally give massages to naked people while you’re naked as well?”

I shrugged. “Um…maybe.”

She was laughing full out now. Her smile was traffic stopping, and I couldn’t help but laugh and smile back too. When I began the massage on her front side in earnest though, the giggling stopped and the moaning took over.

I poured more oil over her body, coating her chest and tummy thoroughly. As I rubbed and caressed the sweet liquid into her breasts, I bent to lick the oil out from where it had pooled in her belly button. I mimicked the motions Kara had used on me earlier during oral sex, thrusting my tongue in and out of the hole at varying rates of speed, then following the move up with slow licks around the rim before plunging back inside to lap up the strawberry taste.

When I finally paused and looked up, Kara had her eyes squeezed shut and her hands fisted in the sheets as if she was holding on for dear life. I loved the way she looked at that exact moment, totally wild and eager for my touch.

I grabbed the tiny bottle of oil one last time and drizzled the remainder slowly across her upper thighs, letting it run down between her legs to pool in a little stream beneath her on the sheets.

“I hope you don’t mind me getting the bed dirty.”

She shook her head, the strain to remain in control evident on her face. “I don’t care if you rip up the mattress and throw it in the trash as long as you keep on doing what you’re doing.”

The power I had over her at the moment was intoxicating. I rubbed my way up and down her legs, working the oil into every inch of her bare skin, right down to her toes. As I glided back up, she spread her legs farther apart in a silent invitation. I took her up on the offer.

I slid my fingers across her swollen lips until I found her clit. I bent down to give it a thorough inspection, blowing lightly on the little nub and following the act with a long swipe of my tongue.

Kara called out, arching her back and pressing her pelvis against my face in a demand for more. I gave her everything I had to give.

I nipped gently on her clit and thrust a finger down through the combination of her own wetness and the strawberry oil. When I slid it deep inside her pussy, her muscles clenched around me and I marveled at the feeling.

“You’re wet, but so tight. How long has it been since you’ve been with someone?”

“A while now.”

With the state she was in, I knew she would answer anything I asked her and I tend to be a very inquisitive person. “Have you ever been with a guy?”

She shook her head. “No, I’ve never been interested in men at all. I’ve been attracted to women as far back as I can remember.”

My eyes widened in shock. “So you’re still a virgin?”

Kara nodded slowly and began gyrating against my still hand. “Technically, yes.”

“What do you mean, technically?”

She groaned. “I’ve used a vibrator before.”

“You’ve used it yourself or had it used on you?”

“Elizabeth! We can discuss this as much as you want to later, but right now, I’m begging you. Less talk and more action, please!”

“You mean like this?” I dived back between her thighs with a vengeance, working her clit with my lips, teeth and tongue while I pushed a second finger inside her to join the first one.

“Harder…faster. Oh…oh…ohhhh…I…I’m…I’m…”

She bucked hard against my face as she cried out in completion. I kept myself planted firmly between her legs, bringing her down with light touches and kisses while continuing to taste her sweet nectar.

Kara sighed deeply with satisfaction as her body shuddered slightly with gentle aftershocks. “I needed that so bad.”

I laid my head against her hip, turning so I could stare up at her. I had to smile at the blissful expression on her face. “That didn’t take very long.”

She looked down at me. “I didn’t think it would. I’ve been hanging on the edge for a while tonight.”

I chuckled. “I can only imagine. Now that you’re calm, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Kara waved her hand non-distinctly in the air, and then let her arm drop as if she was too tired to complete the gesture. “Fire away.”

I opened my mouth to respond and then quickly closed it. Kara looked so peaceful. Her breathing was deep and even and her eyes were totally shut. She obviously wasn’t expecting anything else from me, but I wasn’t finished yet, not by a long shot. I was pretty sure she was napping, but she could have just as easily been fooling with me so I had to be careful. I moved slowly and clicked off the light on the nightstand. Her body tensed under me for just a moment and then relaxed once again. I moved up next to her, trying to distract her from what I was really doing by pretending to find a comfy spot to cuddle and rest. I moved a bit to make some sound to help blot out the noise of me opening her nightstand drawer.

Soft snores filtered through the air, alerting me to her whereabouts by sound and telling me that she truly was asleep. I reached inside the drawer for my prize. I didn’t need light to find what I was looking for because the size of the toy was enough for me to identify the fake penis by feel. I grasped the rubber monster and dropped down next to Kara.

My plan gave me the perfect opportunity to wake her up the way she had woken me earlier. I paused momentarily to decide whether or not to let her sleep a bit before beginning. In the end, I decided not to wait. The night was nearly over and since there were no classes on Saturday, I knew we could catch up on what sleep we’d lost then. Besides any of my friends will tell you that patience is not one of my strong points. I was too keyed up to see how Kara would react to my use of the blue double dildo to allow her any more recovery time. I also didn’t want to delay because I was afraid that if I waited I’d lose my nerve, but just the thought of seeing her stretched wide around the big phallus was enough to make me proceed.

I didn’t bother being quiet now. It was obvious that Kara was a rather deep sleeper. I moved the toy, now nicknamed Big Blue, down the bed with me where I laid it next to my leg so I could grab it easily when the time for its use came. As I was moving into position, my hand came across the small silver vibrator that Kara had thrown onto the bed at the beginning of the evening. It wasn’t nearly as long or wide as the two-headed cock, but it was a pretty decent size. Definitely as good as or better than what most of the guys on campus had lounging around in their pants.

I knew the bottle of oil was empty and Kara was very tight, but I thought that if I used the vibrator first it might make the transition to Big Blue easier. I was also counting on the remnants from my sensual massage, coupled with the moisture from my mouth and her very recent orgasm, to help ease the toy inside her where it belonged. If things went accordingly, I was hoping to have the other end of the rubber penis planted deeply inside my own pussy. The thought of both of us being fucked by it at the same time made me think about getting myself off with a quickie before waking Kara up, but in the end I decided against it. When I came again, I wanted it to be at the same time as my partner.

I grabbed the cool plastic shaft of the vibrator in one hand while I used my other hand to trace Kara’s soft curves until I came into contact with the vee between her legs. I still couldn’t get over the erotic feeling of touching her completely hairless crotch. The skin was so soft and smooth I could have rubbed on it forever.

Kara shifted suddenly, a quiet moan escaping her lips as she spread her legs just a bit. I wondered if it was my touch that pulled that sound out of her or if she was having as good a dream as the one I’d recently had.

I let my fingers drift lower until they parted her slick, pouty lips. When my thumb brushed over her clit, she made a soft little mewling sound deep in her throat that reminded me of a contented feline. I wanted desperately to hear that noise again.

I dipped one finger through her wet folds until I found her entrance. I wanted to be able to see Kara’s expression when she woke but, if my assumption was correct, she’d never used the dildo before, or anything even remotely close to its size in sex toys, and I didn’t want her to see it and freak out when she realized what I planned to do with it. The thought of possibly popping Kara’s cherry had me feeling very aroused and excited.

I moved my hand back and forth slowly, trying to wake her as gently as possible. When my single finger slid easily inside her, I immediately added a second digit. It took a bit of work to get two inside of her comfortably, but I must have been doing something right because she began to push back against my hand. She was moving up and down, riding my fingers in a way that was assured to get her off quickly. I couldn’t allow that, not when she was still asleep.

I pulled back and she shivered with the loss. I replaced my fingers with the tip of the vibrator and turned the base on to the lowest setting. Kara woke instantly when the loud buzzing noise filled the dark room and the slow pulse of the machine filled her cunt.

“Elizabeth?”

“Mmmhmm?”

“Not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing and why are the lights turned off?”

I felt her move to the side, as if reaching for the lamp, and turned off the toy. She halted mid-motion and sobbed in irritation. When the room stayed dark, I turned the vibrator back on.

“I have a surprise for you, but you can’t turn on the light until I tell you to.”

I turned the base up another notch and slid the plastic shaft further inside her. She cried out with enthusiasm before falling back against the bed. “Okay.”

I moved the toy in and out of her slick channel, laughing at the ease with which she’d agreed to my request. “You’re quite agreeable aren’t you?”

She was panting now. “Hmm? Oh, yes!”

“If you like that, then you’re really going to enjoy this.”

I pushed the vibrator in all the way and turned the base to its highest setting. Kara screamed and bucked, reaching out in the dark and grabbing a hold of my shoulders before pulling me flat against her. In this position, I could feel the rapid jerk of her hips against me as well as the quick fire vibration of the toy inside her. I knew I didn’t have long before she was going to explode.

I turned the toy back on low and sat up, grabbing Big Blue in the process. Kara was so focused on herself that she had no clue what I was up to, and by now I was completely soaked and horny too. It didn’t take much to ease the head of the toy inside me. When just a little more than the tip was securely inside I pulled the vibrator completely out of Kara and spread her legs as wide as I could.

“What are you doing? Don’t be so cruel! Put it back! I’ll do anything!”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to leave you like that. Just hold on a minute.”

I tossed the silver bullet to the side and felt for the other end of the dildo. I held it tight as I fumbled in the dark to find my target. I didn’t have to search long. The minute my hand touched her leg she moved her body around until I was directly fondling her pussy.

“Please, Elizabeth, I’m burning up.”

I paused before placing the monstrous toy against her opening.

“Do you trust me?”

“What?”

“I said, do you trust me?”

“Elizabeth, this isn’t funny anymore.”

“I’m not trying to be funny. I need to know if you trust me.”

“What’s this about?” Her voice sounded apprehensive. “What are you going to do? I’m going to turn on the light.”

She moved again and I knew that if she really wanted to turn on the light I couldn’t stop her. All I could do was ask her not to and hope she agreed.

“Wait, Kara please! Just give me a few minutes. If you don’t like what I’m doing I’ll stop and you can turn on the light.”

It took what seemed like forever for her to reach a decision, but in the end probably only a few minutes passed before she settled back down with the room still bathed in darkness. There’s nothing like fear to kill the mood, so I opted to work her back up to the brink again before trying to penetrate her. I had no idea where I had tossed the vibrator so I used the next best thing I had—my mouth.

I descended on her in a frenzy, sucking her clit into my mouth while steadily working my end of the dildo in and out of my pussy. When she begged me to fuck her, I rose up and started to do just that. I knew that she was expecting the vibrator but that wasn’t what I was about to give her.

I had nearly half of Big Blue inside me when I began rubbing the other head of it over her already over sensitized sex. She groaned and tried to force it inside of her. She lunged upward and stopped suddenly when the head of the instrument popped inside her cunt.

“Oh my God, what is that?”

This time she didn’t stop as she reached over and turned on the lamp. I had to move quickly to hold the toy in place so it wouldn’t slip out; I didn’t want to lose what ground we’d gained. I had to close my eyes when she flipped on the light. When I opened them again, she was staring down between us in astonishment, frozen in shock. “Holy shit. You are not fucking me with that!”

“Why not? It’s yours, isn’t it?”

She shook her head in a cross between a nod and a denial. “It’s mine but I’ve never used it before. It was a gag gift from a good friend and I couldn’t just throw it out.”

I moved forward just a fraction of an inch and the toy slid inside her just a bit more. Her eyes widened as she realized she was actually able to accommodate the dildo. When I pushed up slightly she finally took notice that that other end of the toy was inside me as well.

Her voice was deep and gravelly. “Dear Lord. I thought you said you weren’t gay?”

I shrugged my shoulders and moved the toy out of me a bit and a tad farther into her before reversing the motion. She shivered, and I had to focus in order to reply. “Who knows? Maybe my inner lesbian was just waiting for the chance to come out and play.” I worked the two back and forth a little faster, letting it sink further inside her every time I moved. “I guess you could definitely say I’ve switched sides.”

“Thank God for that.” She moved herself up into a sitting position, and I mimicked the movement. She reached out and took hold of the middle of the dildo, resting her hand on top of mine. “Let’s ride this thing together.”

I could only nod because I couldn’t have formed a coherent reply even if I had wanted to. Once we found our rhythm, it didn’t take us very long. We were both extremely aroused and the sight of watching Kara work herself to a climax with the huge toy had me coming almost immediately.

“Now Kara! I can’t wait any longer!”

“Wait, wait…I…I…I’m…Ohhhhhh!!!”

With her first shout of ecstasy, I plunged the dildo back inside myself hard while pushing my pelvis towards Kara. We held each other tight as we worked ourselves down from the last and most spectacular orgasm of the night. When we collapsed together, we had barely enough energy to throw the toy out of the bed and pull up the covers. The sun was just cresting over the horizon as we fell asleep.

I woke several hours later to find Kara propped up on her elbow, staring down at me. She looked extremely happy and I felt proud that I was the one that had made her feel like that. I was pretty ecstatic myself. I was feeling a bit shy after my wild exhibition, but I’d been given a gift in the form of Kara and I wasn’t about to question what I’d done to deserve her.

She stroked my hair away from my face, lingering with her hand on my cheek. “Good morning.”

I smiled shyly. “Morning? What time is it?”

She chuckled. “I guess I should have said good afternoon. It’s a little after twelve.”

I sat up and every muscle in my body protested. She started rubbing my shoulders. “Are you sore?”

“Yeah, you gave me a hell of a workout.”

She laughed hilariously. “I gave you a workout? Baby, you outdid me last night with that last stunt. I may never walk again.”

Now I was the one worried. “You didn’t enjoy it?”

She shook her head playfully. “I never said that. You are an animal in bed. The men who didn’t hang on to you must have been retarded, but then their loss is my gain. Do you want to go get something to eat? My treat.”

“You mean like a date?”

She nodded.

“So are we a couple now?”

“Do you want us to be?”

“Yeah, I do.”

She grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that.” She stood and stretched, then winced as she did it. “We’ll have to take it easier next time though. My body isn’t used to being on the receiving end of that kind of workout.”

I was so thrilled to know she wanted a next time with me that I didn’t stop to consider what she might have been implying. “I think we can do slow and gentle too.” I looked back and forth at both of us standing in the middle of the room completely naked and disheveled. “Maybe we ought to get a shower and get dressed before we go out. We might scare somebody.”

“I’d offer to shower with you, but then we’d never get anything to eat, and I doubt you want anyone to find us making out in the group shower stalls.”

I realized she was offering to keep the whole relationship secret, but I didn’t want that. I knew we could never truly be a couple if we had to hide from everyone all the time. “You don’t have to worry about us being seen together, if that’s what you’re hinting at. I’m proud to be your lover, girlfriend, significant other, or whatever else people call it nowadays. Besides, my reputation isn’t exactly sparkly anyway.”

She picked up my clothes from where she’d folded them and placed them on her desk and handed them to me. “I’m glad you feel that way.” She watched me dress before grabbing me for a soft, smooth kiss. “You want to meet me downstairs in a couple of hours? We can have a late lunch, because we’ve definitely missed breakfast. I’d like to show you off to some of my friends. They’ll all be insanely jealous when I tell them you’re mine.”

I laughed and agreed, the playful tone of her voice breaking the morning after tension. “That sounds good.” I paused before continuing. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

I took her hand in mine and stroked it gently. I looked down at the floor, afraid to see her face in case she didn’t feel the same way. “For everything. For loving me the way I needed to be loved.”

She tilted my chin up with her free hand and gave me a quick chaste peck. “It was my pleasure.”

I was halfway out the door when she called softly. “Thank you, too.”

I nodded, knowing she was watching me because I hadn’t heard the sound of her door shutting. I turned around and blew her a kiss before ducking inside my room.

Love on the Line

Beth Wylde

I finished my shower and flipped off the water, reaching out for a towel as I pushed back my neon blue, diving dolphins, shower curtain. Tasha had given it to me before she left town, knowing how much I love anything to do with dolphins. Usually such a thoughtful gift would make me smile but today the stark reminder of my sweetheart made me want to cry. We’d been living together for five years, and it was only normal that we’d spend some time apart, but this was our longest separation to date. Tasha had been gone almost three weeks, and with each passing day I felt her absence more and more.

Two days ago, during a particularly emotional phone conversation, I’d threatened to buy myself a plane ticket and fly down to Florida if Tasha didn’t come back soon. In reply, she promised to book herself a flight first thing this morning. If my calculations were correct, she was going to walk in the door any minute. I knew I needed to hurry if I wanted to look presentable for my honey.

I stepped out of the bathroom, dropping my damp towel to the floor in exchange for something dryer and sexier. I decided to dress to impress, slipping into Tasha’s favorite pajamas. The clingy little camisole top and very revealing boxer shorts were sure to spark an exciting late night reunion. I finished dressing and grabbed a brush and a clip off the dresser, bending forward to pull my long, brown hair up into a sleek ponytail. Tasha always compliments me when I pin my hair back so I decided to fix it the way she liked the best. As I stood back up I noticed the light on the answering machine was blinking. I pushed the button to listen to the message, wondering why I hadn’t heard it ring and praying that it was good news from my girlfriend. I should know better than to be optimistic.

“Hey baby, it’s me. I was hoping you’d pick up the phone. You know how much I hate talking to this damn machine. I’d rather hear your sweet voice instead.” She paused to clear her throat and I braced myself for the bad news I knew was coming my way. “The weather here is horrible. We’ve had severe thunderstorms, lightning and high winds all day. Now we’re under a tornado watch.” She huffed in irritation and my hopes sank further. “Ugh! I don’t know how to say this in a way that won’t upset you so I’m just going to spit it out. They’ve grounded all the flights until further notice so I won’t be back tonight as I’d planned. Hopefully they’ll get me on a flight tonight or tomorrow sometime. Maybe we can meet up for a late lunch or an early dinner, my treat. I’m really sorry and I’ll make it up to you the next time I see you, I promise. I’ll call you once I get settled in a hotel room here at the airport. Bye baby, I love you.”

I dropped my brush and sank down onto the edge of our big, four-poster bed as the loud click of the machine signaled the end of Tasha’s message. Now, more than ever, I despised living in such luxury. Tasha’s job as a Nurse Practitioner easily covered all of our bills, so she liked to indulge me by buying us nice things. Normally I didn’t mind the pampering, even though I often protested that I felt more like a burden than an equal partner, but my weeks alone had made me paranoid and testy. The fancy piece of furniture that I’d been sleeping in by myself only made things worse. Our home was gloriously furnished but, without my partner to help occupy the space, it all seemed worthless.

I was still busy wallowing in my own misery when I realized there was a strange sound coming from the living room. The noise sounded far away and only chimed sporadically. It took me a few seconds to realize what it was and why I hadn’t heard the phone earlier. I’d left the cordless off its charger and now it was lost in the apartment somewhere. I followed the muffled sound to its source, knowing I had to move fast before the caller decided to give up.

I dashed through the living room, diving onto the overstuffed, leather couch to rescue the receiver from where it was crammed between the cushions. My stomach clenched as I answered and I hoped that for all my effort it was someone other than a telemarketer on the other end. “Hello?”

I was rewarded with the sound of Tasha’s smooth, contralto voice. “Hey baby. What are you doing?”

I rolled over onto my back, leaning against the plush arm of the sofa in order to get more comfortable. “Thinking about you. I just got your message.”

“I wanted to tell you personally, but you didn’t answer. I’m really sorry.”

“That’s okay. It’s not your fault I misplaced the phone again.”

She giggled softly, used to my absent-mindedness by now. “I wasn’t talking about the phone. I meant about not being there with you tonight. I had something special planned for us.”

Her confession left me even more depressed. Tasha realized her mistake in the sudden silence that ensued. “Damn it, I shouldn’t have told you that. Now I’ve upset you even more.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not like you can control the weather.” I chuckled at my lame attempt to break the tension, but even to my ears, the short burst of laughter sounded harsh and forced. Tasha accepted the noise for the olive branch it was supposed to be, though, and started telling me about all the lectures she’d attended and all the terrible convention food she’d been eating. Soon we both relaxed into a more normal conversation, chatting amicably back and forth about our day and our plans for the coming week.

It was our first real vacation as a couple since Tasha had graduated from medical school, so we’d planned a vacation at a remote resort nestled in the mountains where we could sleep and make love, for days on end, without interruption. Beneath her excitement, I could tell there was something bothering her based on the way she was jumping from subject to subject. I finally decided to call her on it. “Is something wrong?”

She sighed over the line. “Is it that noticeable?”

I smiled. “Only to someone who knows you as well as I do. You want to talk about it?”

“I miss you. I’ve been tied up in so many meetings that I haven’t gotten to talk to you as much as I wanted to. Not to mention it’s been twenty-one days since I last saw you. We’ve never gone this long without making love. Being away from you for so long is making me crazy.”

Her declaration made me giddy. It was nice to know that, after five years of being exclusive partners, she was still as addicted to me as I was to her. After three weeks apart, it seemed like she was missing me as much as I was missing her. “Yeah, I’m lonely too. I wish you were here with me right now.”

“Do you really?”

I nodded and then felt silly because I knew she couldn’t see me. “Yeah, I do. I was thinking about you earlier.”

“You were?” Her voice was husky, barely above a whisper, and the change in tone made me anxious and achy.

“Yeah, I was.” My next sentence was risky but I was too aroused to concern myself too much over her reaction. The possibility of engaging in some heated phone sex while we were apart was something I needed more than a good night’s sleep, and hearing her talk naughty to me was one of my favorite forms of foreplay. “I was in the shower. The water was warm, and I was covered in soap. I was leaning up against the wall, just letting the spray pound down over me, and wishing you were there to scrub my back.”

I heard her suck in a deep breath over the line, and I shivered in anticipation. I hoped Tasha was willing to play along. Her response would tell me for sure if she was up to it or not. I wasn’t disappointed.

“God Libby, I can picture you in my mind. Standing there, with your long brown hair hanging near your waist, all covered suds and bent over slightly with your ass in the air. You always like the water extra hot and it makes your skin turn the prettiest shade of pink.” Her next question was so quiet I almost missed it. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” My voice was deep and breathy, and I sounded as horny as I felt. She paused so long I thought she would stop the conversation altogether. I was so wrong. “Did you touch yourself?”

I was so shocked it took me a moment to answer. “Yes, I did. I imagined it was you. I wanted it to be you.”

The sound of her breathing grew heavier over the line. “Are you as turned on as I am right now?”

“God yes. You know I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

“I know, but it’ll only leave us both frustrated if we start something we can’t finish.”

“Maybe for you, but if you keep talking that way I’m almost guaranteed to get off.”

The sound of her voice relayed her surprise. “You really like it that much?”

“Does knowing that excite you?”

“Yes. I love how you try so hard not to make noise but you end up yelling anyway. It makes me want to tie you down and ravish you for days just to hear you scream my name when you come”

The temperature in the room shot up about a thousand degrees. I got up and marched across the room, flipping on the ceiling fan for some much needed air. I could feel the breeze as the blades began to spin but it did absolutely nothing to cool me down. Only an orgasm would give me what I needed to calm the burn currently raging between my thighs.

I pulled my top away from my chest, fanning it back and forth in an attempt to bring myself some relief, even though I knew the effort was futile. Finally, I just took the damn thing off. I decided to get things going again by letting Tasha know what I’d just done. “I’m lying down on the couch. I got so hot I had to take my top off.”

She moaned in response. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes. I need to. I want you so bad. I have to come or I’m going to go insane.”

“I wish I could see you right now.”

“Do you know what you’d see?”

“Tell me.”

“I’ve got the ceiling fan on and the cold breeze has made my nipples hard. They’re standing up and begging for attention.” I pulled on one experimentally and was instantly rewarded with a bolt of lust that shot straight through my body and set off a fire deep inside my pussy.

“If I was there, I’d get down on my knees and suck them, one after the other, until they were so sensitive that you’d push me away and beg me for more all at the same time.”

“Would you want me to finish stripping for you, or would you rather take my clothes off yourself?”

“I like it when you dance for me. You do a hot striptease.”

My hands left my breasts and slid down my stomach to stop at the waistband of my loose cotton sleep shorts. “I’ve got on the little boxer shorts you gave me for Valentine’s Day, the white ones with the little red hearts on the back. I’m not wearing any panties underneath.”

“Mmmm, those are my favorites. They barely cover your ass. The thought of you shaking your tail at me while you wear them makes me want to fuck you so hard.”

Tasha’s illicit talk had me panting and her willingness to entertain me over the phone was more arousing than I could have ever imagined. The next time we saw each other for real was going to be explosive. “I’m taking them off now.”

“No!” Her voice was stern, and I flinched even as I obeyed immediately. She must have realized how forceful she sounded, because she apologized immediately. “Sorry, just don’t take them off. There’s something I’ve always wanted to do to you in those shorts.”

“What’s that?” It was shocking to hear that she’d fantasized about us doing something kinky but had never told me. I couldn’t wait to find out what she’d hidden from me.

“Get up, and go get one of your toys.”

“Which one?”

She responded immediately and I wondered how long she’d been pondering such a scenario. “The long red vibrator with the clit stimulator on it.”

Wetness trickled down my inner thighs as I rushed to the toy box we kept next to the bed in our room. The hardwood floors were cold on my bare feet, but I didn’t mind. In my current condition I was grateful for anything cold that might help calm my raging lust.

I bent down and opened the top of the dolphin decorated wooden box, revealing a huge pile of sexual goodies inside. I pawed through the stack until I found the exact toy Tasha wanted me to retrieve. “Okay, I’ve got it. Now what?”

Her reply was totally unexpected. “Go back into the living room and bend over the back of the couch.”

“Why?”

Her voice turned serious. “I thought you wanted to do this?”

“I did. I mean, I do.”

“Then lean over the couch and spread your legs.”

I did what she asked without any further questions, telling her when I was in position. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Her heavy breathing was easily audible over the line. “God, I wish I could see you like that. I’ll bet you look so hot.”

“I feel like a bad girl.”

“I like it when you’re bad. Now, take the vibrator and suck on it. Do it the way you normally do it when I’m wearing my strap-on.”

I reached forward with my right hand, which was holding the toy, and brought it slowly to my mouth, licking it up and down from base to tip. I didn’t really need the lubrication, because I’d been wet for quite some time, but I liked the way it felt in my mouth. I imagined it was Tasha standing in front of me, wearing nothing but a realistic looking cock in preparation to fuck me. The thought pushed my arousal higher and higher until I thought I’d peak from just the mental stimulation alone.

I ignored my rising libido and continued to suck on the dildo, making exaggerated slurping sounds into the phone so Tasha would know that I was really doing everything she told me to.

“Okay, stop.”

I quit right away; praying her next set of instructions included impaling myself on the big red cock. They didn’t.

“Now rub it over your nipples.”

I started circling the head of the vibrator over my breasts, working closer and closer to the center but still not touching them yet. I was trying my best to make things last, but I was also at a point where I wanted instant gratification too. As my body and my mind fought a silent battle static suddenly sounded in my ear, getting louder and louder until I was sure I’d lost the connection all together. “Tasha? Tasha are you there?”

“I can’t hear you. L...Lib...Libby?”

“Tasha!” I dropped the toy and clutched the phone with both hands as if I could hold onto the call by gripping the receiver tighter. The conversation ended with a loud click and then the sound of the dial tone was blaring in my ear.

I was so upset I felt close to tears. I flung the cordless across the room in frustration. It hit the wall and landed on the floor in several pieces. As I realized what I’d done, the phone started to emit a shrill imitation of its former hearty ring. I scooped up what was left and tried to answer it but the on button was depressed all the way into the headset. The caller ID showed Tasha’s cell phone number on it.

“Shit, shit, shit!” I was frantic to find a way to answer the phone. I dashed into the kitchen and grabbed for a knife, intent on digging out the button in hopes it would pick up. I slipped and just barely avoided slicing myself open. I almost had the button loose when the ringing stopped and the answering machine picked up.

“Hi. You’ve reached Tasha and Libby. If you’re a telemarketer, hang up and don’t ever call back. Ever! If you don’t fall into that category, and you’d like to talk to one of us, please leave a message and we’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

The beep sounded and Tasha came on, sounding concerned. “Lib? Libby? Answer the phone. I lost my signal but I’m back now. You’re scaring me. Pick up the phone, baby? Please? Are you mad at me?”

I knew she couldn’t hear me but I hollered out anyway. “Tasha, I’m here. I broke the phone. Fuck.”

The machine cut off with another beep and the loud click as it reset itself was the final straw. I sat down in the floor and started to weep. I heard footsteps outside on the porch, but I paid them no mind. I was too upset to care who might be waiting on my porch. It wasn’t Tasha, and she was the only person I wanted to see at the moment. Everyone else could go to hell for all I cared.

They knocked softly and I called out in reply. “Go away!”

The telephone tried ringing again, and I kicked it away in anger, finishing what my earlier tantrum had started. As it hushed abruptly, someone started wiggling the doorknob. I forced myself to get up, suddenly thankful for an outlet for my anger. Whoever was lurking on my doorstep was about to get their ass kicked.

I grabbed the closest thing at hand to use as a weapon, which turned out to be a couch cushion, and headed towards the door. As options went it was a pretty useless choice, but I was pissed and frustrated and definitely not thinking straight. I flung open the door and jumped onto the porch, cocking my cushion back in preparation to swat the hell out of someone. I paused with the cushion halfway over my head as I realized who was standing in front of me.

I dropped the cushion to the ground, suddenly feeling a bit lightheaded as I watched my girlfriend pull her cell phone away from her head and snap it shut. I was sure I’d finally lost my mind. I wanted to see Tasha so bad I was imagining her. I shook my head and blinked my eyes but she was still there. “You’re not real.”

She reached out and touched my face, stroking her fingers along my chin. “Does this feel fake to you?”

I felt close to tears as she touched me. “No, it doesn’t.”

She smiled and wiped away the first teardrop as it cascaded down my left cheek. “That’s because it’s not.”

I blinked rapidly again, this time to clear my blurry sight, as her sudden appearance fully registered in my brain. “But you’re in Florida.”

This time it was her turn to shake her head. “No, I’m not. When the planes were grounded I rented a car and drove to the closest airport that was still open. I bought a non-stop ticket and flew straight home. I couldn’t stand to go another day without you.”

“But what about the hotel room?”

An embarrassed blush stained her cheeks. “That was a bit of a fib. I wanted to surprise you. I made up the story about the hotel room while I was in the car.”

I was still having trouble comprehending what she was saying. I couldn’t get past the fact that she was really home.

“Maybe we should take this discussion inside. You must be freezing.” She took me by the hand and walked past me, pulling me gently behind her.

As we crossed the threshold I looked down and realized I was still wearing nothing but my boxer shorts. I crossed my hands over my chest and shut the door behind me, instantly grateful for the tall bushes Tasha had insisted on planting when we moved in. The huge shrubs surrounded the entire perimeter of our house, effectively hiding us from the rest of the neighborhood.

Tasha led me to the couch, urging me to sit down as she grabbed a blanket from the rocking chair nearby and draped it over my back. Tasha started rubbing my shoulders. Her hands worked wonders for my tense muscles. Tasha stopped her massage and walked around to face me, kneeling on the floor by my feet. “Why didn’t you answer the phone? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, but I did. I kind of had a little accident.”

She gasped and instantly switched into medical mode. Before I could explain the problem, she started running her hands all over my body, looking for blood and other injuries. Her face twisted in confusion as she finished her scan and found nothing wrong with me. “You’re not hurt.”

I grabbed her hands in mine. “Not me, the phone.”

“What about the phone? Libby you’re not making any sense.”

I took a deep, calming breath to relax myself. “I got upset when your phone cut off. I took my frustration out on the cordless.”

Understanding dawned in her eyes. “We need another new phone don’t we?”

I nodded and pointed across the room to the shattered remains. “It looks that way.”

“Good Lord, Libby. We have to do something about that temper of yours. Maybe you need some anger management classes.” Tasha pulled her hands out of my grip and sat back on her heels. She jumped up with a squeal, reaching behind her to grab whatever she’d just accidentally sat on. Her hand whipped out the offending object and I blushed as I recognized the shiny, red vibrator I’d been playing with earlier. The sight brought back memories of our conversation with full clarity and I could feel myself getting aroused all over again. Tasha was obviously feeling something too as she stared back and forth between me and the sex toy

She started to grin. It was a naughty smile, full of wicked delights and sensual promises. “You really were doing everything I asked you to earlier, weren’t you?”

I had no idea what she was up to, and I didn’t really care as long as it ended with the two of us fucking each other into oblivion. “Yes, I was.”

She slapped the rubber cock against her palm like a strict schoolteacher with a ruler. “Maybe I was wrong.” She twisted the base, and the object buzzed to life in her hand. “I could probably take care of your unruly temperament here at home. After all, I specialize in behavioral problems. Let’s see if a little home therapy can get you to act properly.”

I nodded, my pussy tingling at the thought of being Tasha’s bitch for the night. “Yes!”

She tapped me on the knee with the still-vibrating phallus. “Yes what? Did you forget all your manners while I was gone?”

“Yes, please!”

“Please what?”

I flung myself off the couch and mashed my lips to hers. The resulting kiss went on for quite some time and left me shaking. Eventually I had to pull back to breathe. I cupped her face in my hands and stared her directly in the eyes. “Please fuck me.”

She responded with another kiss, this one even hotter than the first. She made love to my mouth and I ached to push her face between my thighs and have her kiss me the same way down below. I was past all coherent thought. I just knew I needed us both naked and sweaty as soon as possible. Tasha had other plans.

She pushed me back against the couch. “Stay right there. I’ve got something that will help you relieve all that tension and hostility.”

She crossed the room, pausing to grab her purse from where she’d obviously dropped it just inside the doorway. I could hear her rifling through it, but she was bent over at an angle so that her body shielded her actions from my sight. After a moment she stood back up, hiding something in the waistband of her skirt, as she approached me while beginning a slow striptease. It seemed like forever before she was left in only her business-length skirt and thigh highs. She reached underneath and slid off her panties and the hose, pausing to grip whatever it was she’d hidden earlier before unzipping her skirt and letting it drop to the floor in a heap. My eyes were riveted to her gloriously nude body and the fact that we both seemed ready for a hot reunion.

I grabbed the waistband of my boxers and started sliding them down my legs. She reached out to stop me. “Leave them on. I want to finish what we started earlier.”

I groaned. “No, not now. No talking. I’m hot enough to explode.”

She giggled. “Who said anything about talking?” She pulled out the object she’d been hiding from me and wiggled it suggestively. The purple jelly-like toy was like nothing I’d ever seen before. I must have been staring cause she started explaining herself.

“This is a Feeldoe. I had a little down time yesterday once my speech ended and decided to do a little shopping. I found a fabulous toy store that caters specifically to lesbians. This is the hottest thing on the market right now. It’s like a strap on without the straps.” She spread her legs slightly and slid the larger end of the toy inside her pussy. Judging by the easy way it slid in she was still turned on. She grabbed the end that was left pointing towards me with one hand and pointed to the couch with her other. “Bend over and spread’em. Do it the same way you did while we were on the phone.”

I was behind the couch and in position within seconds. I ached so bad it felt like my pussy had a heartbeat of its own, and I knew only Tasha could give me what I needed to find relief.

She stopped behind me, just out of reach, and I bent over as far as I could, arching my back so my ass was on complete display. “Jesus Libby, that is so fucking sexy.” She gave my rear a smack. “I’m going to fuck you so hard.”

I moaned out loud; I couldn’t help it. “Now, I need you to fuck me now.”

There were no other words for what we both wanted. She pulled one leg of my skimpy boxers to the side, testing my readiness with two fingers. Apparently she found the situation satisfactory because she rubbed the head of the Feeldoe against my pussy and plunged inside me to the hilt in one thrust.

I expected her to pause and give me a moment to adjust, but she didn’t. She set a brutal pace, giving me everything I’d asked for until I had to dig my nails into the back of the couch to hold myself steady. I knew I wasn’t going to last long and judging by the sounds Tasha was making she was right there on the edge with me.

“More, more. Oh yes!” I started pushing back every time she moved forward, using the extra momentum to kick things up another notch. “Oh fuck that’s good!”

One minute I was climbing towards my peak, still on edge from our interrupted phone sex, and the next I was there, screaming and wailing as my body jerked and clutched at the fake cock drilling deep inside me.

“That’s it. Come for me. Come all over my cock. Oh, yeah.”

As the aftershocks slowly receded I realized Tasha was still going strong. I reached down between my legs and, in between thrusts, searched for her clit, intent on giving her some extra stimulation to help her reach her peak as well. I grinned as my fingers brushed over a small button near the area where the base fitted inside of her. Now I understood why the store was praising this hot new toy. With a built-in vibrator and no need for straps it was a dyke’s dream come true. I pushed the button and Tasha gave a loud shout as the phallic extension embedded in her pussy roared to life. The extra boost was all the stimulation she needed to reach her own orgasm. She bucked and pushed me hard against the sofa, clutching my hips as she ground her clit against the steadily buzzing vibrator. “Oh shit. I’m coming. I’m coming.”

She paused just a minute before turning off the fake phallus and pulling out of both my body and hers. I was exhausted, sore and thoroughly happy about the fact, that I didn’t think my legs would ever work right again. Tasha noticed my lack of movement and called me on it.

“Is something wrong?”

I sat down in the floor in the exact same spot I’d just been standing, with what I knew was a goofy grin on my face. “Nope not a thing. When’s your next medical convention supposed to be?”

“I don’t know yet. Why?”

“I need to make sure I have enough time to get a new phone.”

She chuckled and bent down to pick me up. “You give the term phone sex a whole new meaning.”

I nodded and let my head droop sleepily on her shoulder. “Yeah, but you love me like that.”

She smiled softly as she tucked us both into bed. “Get some rest. I’ll see what conventions the medical board has planned for the rest of the year and see if I can’t get in on at least one.”

We kissed tenderly and I fell asleep to dreams of making heated love over the phone line. Maybe next time we could try out Tasha’s new laptop with the live camera attachment for some extra fun.

For Love of Laura

Cassidy Ryan

Dedicated to Lee Benoit, for your enthusiastic encouragement

Grace Shawcross cursed up a blue streak when the books she was trying to artfully display tumbled and landed in a heap on the table.

“Wow, that was quite a mouthful.” There was laughter in the voice of Jamie Porter, her assistant.

Grace turned and gave him a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I’m all thumbs this morning.” She picked up a book that had slipped from the table onto the floor.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that. Are you okay?” Jamie joined her at the table and started fixing the books.

Grace grimaced. “Today’s the day I meet my mother-in-law for the first time.” Her nerves were evident in her voice.

Jamie frowned. “I thought Laura’s parents were both dead?”

“Sarah is actually Laura’s godmother, but she raised Laura. Sarah is as close to a mother as she has. Laura adores her.” She said the last quietly.

“And you’re worried that you won’t measure up?” Jamie guessed.

Grace sighed and her shoulders slumped. She could only nod as her stomach churned uncomfortably. At this rate, she was going to wind up with an ulcer before she even met the woman.

“So how come you’re just meeting her now? You and Laura have been together for nearly a year.” Finished with the display, Jamie moved to the counter and hoisted himself up to sit on it.

Grace turned to face him, and leaned back against the table. “Sarah’s a photographer, a bit of a vagabond. She spends most of her time traveling.” She looked down at the toes of her shoes. “What if she doesn’t like me? Laura thinks the world of her...”

Jamie jumped down from the counter and came to her. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her and caught her up in a tight hug. “What’s not to like?” he asked, pressing a light kiss against her hair.

She laughed lightly and hugged him back.

“Hey, get your hands off my woman.” Grace and Jamie turned in unison at the statement and the jingle of the bell over the door.

Grace smiled as the unease in her stomach was replaced by the more familiar, and far more pleasant, flutter she always experienced when she saw her lover.

Releasing Grace and stepping back, Jamie laughed. “You don’t need to get the shotgun out, she’s not my type. Doesn’t have the right bits for a start.”

Laura grinned as she fairly bounced into the store. Grace had noticed a particular lightness in Laura’s step since she had found out that Sarah would be arriving to celebrate Laura’s thirtieth birthday. “Just as well for you. I don’t just use my scissors for cutting hair.”

As Jamie laughed, Laura pulled Grace into her arms. Grace shrieked in surprise as Laura dipped her low. “I’m very possessive of what’s mine.”

Laughing breathlessly, Grace punched Laura playfully on the arm. “You know I love it when you play cave woman, but not in front of the children!”

Laura pulled Grace back upright and gave her a theatrical leer. “Later.”

Jamie made a gagging sound and went to attend to the customer who had entered and was looking at Grace and Laura with undisguised interest.

Laura rolled her eyes. “Can I see you in private for a moment?”

Grace took her hand and led her back to the office. When the door closed behind Laura, Grace looked at her curiously. It surprised her when Laura closed the distance between them, a look of determination on her face.

When she reached Grace, Laura maneuvered her back until Grace’s butt bumped against the desk. Her hands went to Laura’s shoulders.

Grace smiled suddenly. “Oh, I see. Feeling a little frisky?”

Laura pushed her hips against Grace’s. “You got a problem with that?”

Heat flooded Grace. “Hell no.” She wound her arms around Laura’s waist and slipped her hands down the back of her hip-hugging jeans. She smiled when she saw Laura’s pupils dilate.

Laura was a few inches taller than Grace, and rail thin in comparison to Grace’s curves, but Laura still had no problem whatsoever lifting Grace until she was sitting on the edge of the desk. She lowered her hand to grasp hold of the bottom of Grace’s calf-length skirt and slowly raised it, sliding her hand along Grace’s stocking-clad leg. Grace gasped in anticipation, and she parted her legs so that Laura could settle between them.

Leaning in, Laura nibbled at Grace’s neck while her fingers teased Grace’s thigh around the lacy elastic holding up her stocking.

Grace arched her body into Laura, flexed her fingers into the firm muscles of Laura’s ass through the simple cotton panties Laura preferred.

A hum of pleasure sounded in Grace’s ear and Laura moved her hand until it cupped Grace’s mound, her thumb moving in hypnotic little circles over Grace’s silky panties. Grace moaned as heat and moisture gathered between her legs.

Grace pulled her hands out of Laura’s jeans and slid them under her shirt. Her fingers danced over Laura’s back, unhooked her bra when she reached it and moved one hand around to cup a small, high breast.

Laura’s breath hitched when Grace scraped a nail lightly over her rapidly hardening nipple. The intense pleasure on Laura’s face made Grace smile. Laura’s breasts were small, but they were hyper-sensitive. Grace recalled with a shiver the time she had brought Laura to a writhing orgasm just by using her tongue on Laura’s breasts.

“Oh, fuck, that’s good.” Laura’s voice was husky with her need. Her eyes were hooded, her lips parted and moist. She was beautiful.

Gaze falling on Laura’s lips again, Grace felt her mouth water with hunger. She leaned forward and brought their mouths together. Laura’s lips parted and Grace slipped her tongue in. Laura’s rose up to meet it and they twined together. Grace continued he attentions to Laura’s nipple until her lover was squirming and moaning into her mouth.

But Laura wasn’t so distracted that she forgot about Grace -- at least, not for long.

Slightly trembling fingers worked their way into Grace’s panties and slipped into her moist cleft. Grace’s hips moved with the strokes of Laura’s knowing fingers. She felt her orgasm begin in the tightening of her stomach and her breath came in shallow gasps.

“Laura, I’m... I’m... Oh fuck, oh fuck.”

Distantly, she heard Laura’s soft laughter. “I love your potty mouth.”

Grace couldn’t reply as her body shivered and jerked to climax. Every muscle strained, and for long seconds, she stopped breathing altogether. When she finally came back to full consciousness, she found Laura watching her with a soft smile.

“I love watching you come. So fuckin’ hot.” Laura pushed a stray lock of Grace’s hair back behind her ear.

Feeling languid and content, Grace lowered her hand from Laura’s breast to press between her lover’s legs. Even through her jeans, Grace could feel Laura’s heat. She moved her hand over the rough material until Laura was grinding against her hand, biting her lower lip as her own orgasm washed over her.

When Laura slumped against her, Grace wrapped her arms around her shoulders and ran her fingers through Laura’s dark hair, cut in a short, choppy style.

“Did I ever tell you that I love these little visits of yours?” Grace inquired with a soft laugh.

Laura raised her head from Grace’s shoulder. “Are you feeling a bit more relaxed now?” At Grace’s questioning look, Laura grinned lazily. “Ever since you woke up this morning, you’ve been wound tight enough to snap.”

Grace tried -- and failed -- to look annoyed. “So this was an act of charity?” The corners of her lips twitched.

Gray eyes twinkled at Grace. “There’s no one I would rather sacrifice myself for.”

A decidedly unladylike snort escaped Grace. “When do we have to meet Sarah?” Funnily enough, mentioning the woman’s name caused only the slightest flutter of nerves in Grace’s stomach.

Laura looked at the clock on the wall. “In about half an hour.” A flash of panic must have shown on Grace’s face, because Laura leaned in, touched a gentle hand to Grace’s cheek. “She won’t bite.” Then, in a quiet, intimate whisper she said, “Only I’m allowed to do that.”

In spite of the fact that she’d only just come, Grace felt a flush of arousal heat her body.

Laura laughed. “Come on, we should go.”

Collecting her coat and bag, Grace followed Laura out of the office, unable to resist watching the gentle sway of her ass.

When they passed through the store, Jamie -- who had agreed to look after things for the day -- threw them a knowing look along with his wave, and Grace blushed.

* * *

They arrived at the train station with ten minutes to spare, and in those ten minutes, Grace managed to work herself up into a fairly decent freak-out.

Laura kept her hand on the small of Grace’s back the whole time, and while Grace found some comfort in the touch, her insides were back to churning uncomfortably.

They stood at the gate, and by the time the train pulled in, Laura was practically thrumming with excitement. Grace smiled. She felt some of her anxiety diminish in the face of her partner’s happiness.

“Oh, look, there she is!” Laura was actually jumping up and down, waving her arms about.

Grace was a little surprised. Laura was usually quite self-contained. Not exactly reserved, but she rarely bounced about with the enthusiasm of a five year old.

It was with even more amusement that Grace saw a woman rushing along the platform in their direction, waving frantically and dragging a wheelie case behind her.

The minute Sarah passed through the gate, Laura bounded forward and they were hugging and shrieking with joy, heedless of the attention they were attracting.

Reluctant to intrude, Grace hung back and watched the reunion. When they parted, Laura turned and seemed a little surprised that Grace was not beside her. She gestured for Grace to join them. Grace hesitated for moment, took a deep breath and walked over to Laura’s side.

Laura immediately wrapped an arm round Grace’s waist and said, with so much pride in her voice that Grace blushed, “This is Grace, isn’t she something?”

Sarah, a petite woman in her early fifties with short-cropped gray hair and deep blue eyes, looked her over for painfully long seconds, as if assessing her. Grace stood stiffly beside Laura. Reluctantly, Grace finally held out her hand.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Sarah,” she said in a very formal tone.

Sarah’s mouth slowly turned up at the corners. “I hope she’s not always this shy?” Sarah’s wink was comically lewd, but it still brought deep color to Grace’s cheeks.

Sarah laughed and pulled Grace into a hug. “Don’t worry, hon, if you’re good enough for my girl, you’re good enough for me.”

With a sense of relief, Grace returned the hug, if a little less enthusiastically.

Laura rubbed a hand up and down Grace’s back, and when she stepped back from Sarah, Grace was happy to lean into Laura’s warmth.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Laura said, taking the case from Sarah’s hand. Smiling widely, Laura led the little group out to the parking lot.

* * *

“What do you mean, you’re not having a party? It’s your thirtieth birthday. You have to have a party, it’s the law.”

Grace and Laura laughed at Sarah’s words. They were sitting cross-legged on the floor around the coffee table, surrounded by the remains of Chinese take-out.

“Actually, I don’t think it is.” Laura reached for her glass and, noticing it was empty, picked up the wine bottle and tipped it over her glass. She frowned, obviously puzzled when nothing happened.

Grace took the empty bottle from Laura’s hand and replaced it with the fourth bottle of the evening. Laura gave her a slightly lopsided smile and refilled the three glasses.

“Well, it should be,” Sarah said, clinking her glass against Grace’s.

Grace blinked. “What should be?”

“A law.” Sarah poked her finger on the table for emphasis. “Having a thirtieth birthday party.”

“But we’re not having a party.” Laura was looking puzzled again. Grace smiled indulgently. Her lover was a total lightweight when it came to drinking.

“Didn’t we decide to have a nice, quiet dinner with friends?” Laura asked, looking at Grace with the intense concentration of the very drunk.

Grace leaned toward Laura, bumped their shoulders together. “You can have anything you want for your birthday.” She was feeling a little fuzzy-headed herself.

Sarah snickered. “Oh, yeah, she’s a keeper.”

Wrapping her arms around Grace, Laura rocked them back and forth. “Yeah, she’s my baby.”

“You are so drunk!” Grace giggled.

“You really should have a party,” Sarah reiterated. “At least one person for every year you have blessed the planet.”

Grace’s eyes widened. “Ooh, that’s a good idea. I like that.” She turned to Laura. “You like that, baby?”

But Laura, leaning against Grace’s shoulder, gave a little snuffling snore in response. Grace stroked Laura’s cheek, smiling softly when Laura leaned reflexively into the caress.

She turned to Sarah, who was looking tired herself. “Maybe we could meet for lunch tomorrow and talk about this some more?”

Sarah smiled. “That sounds like a plan. I’d like to do something special for her.”

Pleased, Grace nodded. In the last few hours, her nerves had vanished as she got to know Sarah. The fact that they both adored Laura was a pretty sound foundation to build a relationship on.

Grace moved and stroked Laura’s back. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty, time for bed.”

Laura opened tired eyes. “Hmm? Bed? You want to have a little fun?”

Grace blushed even as she laughed. “Why don’t we start by seeing if you can walk first?”

Laura nodded solemnly. “’Kay.” With Grace’s help, she got to her feet, a little unsteady, but able to stay upright. She wobbled over to Sarah and wrapped her up in a big hug. “It’s so good to have you here.”

Sarah returned the hug, patting Laura’s back. “It’s good to be here, hon. Now, I think you should go to bed before you fall on your ass.” She grinned over Laura’s shoulder and winked.

Pulling out of the hug, Laura turned back to Grace. “Yeah, time for bed. Bed with my baby.”

Grace smiled and, on impulse, leaned in and hugged Sarah. Sarah returned the hug without hesitation.

“You’ll do,” Sarah said quietly, for Grace’s ears only, and Grace felt pleasure swell in her breast.

They said their goodnights and Grace led Laura through to their bedroom while Sarah headed for the guest bedroom.

Laura turned to Grace when they were behind the closed door. She sidled up to Grace in what Grace supposed was meant to be a seductive manner, but she tripped over her own foot, somewhat spoiling the move. Laughing, Grace caught Laura in her arms.

“Oh, baby, you really are drunk, aren’t you?”

Sighing, Laura nuzzled into Grace’s neck. “You know I love you, right?”

Grace nodded, undoing the buttons on Laura’s shirt. “I know, and I love you too.”

Straightening up as best she could, Laura took Grace’s face in her hands. “No, I mean I really love you. Really, really.”

Grace bit back a smile, pushed Laura’s shirt down her arms and went to work on her jeans. “I really, really love you too.” She lowered Laura’s jeans and helped her step out of them. When Laura was standing before Grace, wearing only her panties, her small, firm breasts not requiring a bra, Grace felt a shiver of arousal run through her body.

Even in her inebriated condition, Laura must have seen Grace’s reaction. She stepped closer, wriggled against Grace and cupped one of Grace’s more ample breasts in her hand. “Wanna fuck?”

Grace snorted. “You sweet-talker! Why don’t you get into bed and I’ll join you in a minute?”

Nodding, Laura dropped a quick kiss on Grace’s mouth and climbed into bed.

As Grace undressed, she watched with a fond smile as Laura’s eyelids drooped. By the time Grace climbed in beside her, Laura’s breath was coming in soft snores. Grace snuggled in beside her, wrapped an arm around Laura’s waist and smiled when Laura curled into her. Grace felt her own eyes become heavy and soon she was slipping into sleep too.

* * *

Grace woke with a start sometime later. She lay stiffly, listening for what had woken her, barely breathing. She was starting to relax again when a noise made her sit up. She extended her hearing, only to grimace when she heard the sound of retching.

She pushed aside the covers, grabbed her robe and headed for the door. “Oh, Laura.”

A murmur came from the other side of the room. Grace squinted in the dark and saw the bump that was Laura buried under the comforter.

Grace frowned and opened the door. She followed the sounds down the hallway to the bathroom.

“Sarah? Are you okay?” She tapped lightly on the door.

After a moment, there was the sound of water running, then the door opened to reveal a rather gray-looking Sarah.

“Are you okay?” Grace repeated.

Sarah waved a hand dismissively. “Too much wine.” She smiled sheepishly. “I guess Laura isn’t the only one who can’t hold her liquor.”

Grace smiled. “Why don’t you get back into bed and I’ll bring you some water?”

Sarah patted her on the arm. “Thanks, hon.” She shuffled across the hall to the guest room, looking oddly hunched and old.

In the kitchen, Grace filled a glass with cold water and took a bottle of Tylenol up to Sarah.

Sarah was lying back against the pillows, eyes closed. Grace placed the water and pills on the table by the bed and turned to leave quietly.

“You love her a lot, don’t you?” Grace turned in surprise at Sarah’s words.

“Yes, yes I do,” she replied softly.

Sarah nodded, her lips turning up at the corners and her eyes drifting closed again.

Grace closed the door behind her and went back to bed.

* * *

The next time she woke, the sun was peeking through the crack in the curtains.

Grace touched a soft kiss to Laura’s cheek and got out of bed. She made her way down to the kitchen to start the coffee, but as she got closer, the smell of freshly brewed coffee drifted to her nostrils.

She found Sarah in the kitchen, leaning against the sink and washing down a couple of pills with a glass of orange juice.

“How are you feeling this morning?” Grace took a mug down and filled it with coffee.

Sarah waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t mind me. Never did learn my limits.” She smiled, but it was a strained expression. “So tell me, how is it that you can look so bright-eyed this morning? If I’m not mistaken, you had as much of that wine as us last night, but you didn’t have to be carried into bed or spend the night with your head down the john.”

Grace smiled. “I guess I have a high tolerance level.” She added sugar to the mug and sat at the table by the window.

“Don’t listen to her. She comes from a family of rampant alcoholics. They have a rite of passage they all go through at thirteen -- if they can’t drink their own weight in scotch, they get kicked out of the family.”

Grace laughed at Laura’s entrance, raised her mouth for a kiss.

“Morning, hon.” Laura, dressed in a tank top and sweats, perched on Grace’s knee and planted a kiss on her waiting mouth. “Why the hell did you let me drink so much last night? You know what it does to me.” She leaned her head against Grace’s shoulder. “Shit, I feel like a hamster in a blender.”

Grace ran a hand soothingly over Laura’s back, still laughing.

Sarah filled a tall glass with water and brought it to Laura. Laura mumbled her thanks and sipped from the glass.

“So, what are your plans for the day?” Grace asked -- Laura had taken a few days off work while Sarah visited.

Laura groaned. “Back to bed?”

“Oh, no.” Sarah, starting to look a little brighter, swallowed the last of her orange juice. “We’re going out for a nice long walk, then we’ll find somewhere to have breakfast and walk home. Then you can have a little nap while I have lunch with your better half.”

Laura raised her head from Grace’s shoulder. “You’re having lunch together? When was this decided?”

“When you were snoring drunkenly and drooling on my shoulder,” Grace said.

Laura nodded. “Oh, okay.” She rested her head back on Grace’s shoulder, but almost immediately, it popped up again. “Wait, I’m not invited?”

Sarah made a tut-tutting sound. “We can hardly dish the real dirt with you sitting right there now, can we?”

After looking at Grace for a long moment, Laura shrugged. “Okay, just so long as you don’t mention that time with the handcuffs and the chocolate sauce.”

Grace snorted at Sarah’s raised eyebrow and dislodged Laura none too gently from her lap.

“Well, unlike you two, I actually have work to get to.” She headed off for the shower, wishing that she could invite Laura to join her, but the thought of having sex while Sarah was in the house, wide awake and able to hear every little sound, was a bit inhibiting.

After a quick shower, Grace dried her hair and dressed in gray slacks and an oyster colored silk blouse.

She kissed Laura and made arrangements to meet Sarah for lunch before leaving to open up the store.

* * *

At lunchtime, Grace met Sarah at Mulberry, a small restaurant near the bookstore.

When Grace arrived, Sarah was already seated at a table by the window, throwing back a couple of pills with the aid of a glass of ginger ale.

Grace smiled knowingly as she slipped into the seat opposite Sarah. “Still hung over?” she asked, hanging her bag on the back of her chair.

Sarah rolled her eyes. “One of the many drawbacks to getting old.”

They attracted the attention of a young waiter and ordered their food. Grace chose lemon chicken and wild rice while Sarah ordered a simple, dressing-free salad.

“So, you think we should have a party for Laura?” Grace washed down a bite of chicken with a drink of club soda.

Sarah pushed a piece of lettuce around her plate with her fork. “I don’t want to spoil any plans you’ve made.” Sarah’s voice was quiet and sincere, but Grace could hear the unspoken ‘but.’

“I think a party would be a great idea.” Grace smiled when Sarah’s face lit up with pleasure.

“It’s not too short notice?” Sarah’s brow wrinkled in a small frown. “It’s only two days away.”

Grace shook her head and swallowed a mouthful of rice. “Don’t worry about that, I’ll do some phoning around this afternoon and corral the troops. Everyone will be happy to pitch in.”

Sarah’s eyes softened. “She has a lot of friends?”

On impulse, Grace reached a hand across the table and squeezed Sarah’s, feeling an unaccountable need to reassure her. “A lot of good friends.”

Sarah seemed quietly happy at this and squeezed Grace’s hand in return.

They returned to their meals, but instead of eating Sarah asked,” What about you? Tell me about yourself.”

Grace laid aside her fork and smiled widely. “Ah, the traditional interrogation. Are you going to ask me what my intentions are?”

“Would that be a problem?” Sarah was clearly trying to look very stern and serious, but the playful twinkle in her eyes gave her away.

“What would you like to know?” Food forgotten, Grace settled back in her chair, legs crossed, hands clasped and resting on her thigh.

Sarah paused in the act of pushing her food around her plate. “Tell me about your family.”

“I was a late child -- my parents were told they would never have children. My mom got pregnant when she was forty-three.” She laughed. “I came as quite a surprise to them.”

“Obviously a welcome one, if they gave you a name meaning blessing.”

Grace’s eyes widened in surprise that Sarah should know that, then she smiled a little sheepishly. “Yes, I was spoiled rotten.”

“What about your parents? What do they do?”

Grace’s smile faltered for a second. “Dad passed about five years ago.” Her mouth curved upward again, and her smile became indulgent. “Mom lives in a retirement community. She’s sort of the unofficial social director.”

Sarah mirrored Grace’s smile. “What does she think of you and Laura?”

Again, Grace felt the need to reassure Sarah. “Mom loves Laura. All the residents in the community do -- Laura goes over there every month, gives the ladies a makeover and the gents a shave and a trim.” She grinned. “A few of the old guys have a huge crush on her.”

Sarah’s eyes were warm with pleasure. “It sounds like she has a good life.” There was an odd tone to her voice that made Grace wonder.

Instead of inquiring, Grace answered, “Yes, she does. She’s loved.” For some unknown reason, it was important to Grace that Sarah should know this.

Sarah nodded. “Why don’t we have something sinful for dessert and talk more about this party?”

Grace signaled the waiter, but the smile on her lips felt suddenly a little forced, and a knot of unease settled in her stomach.

* * *

She spent the rest of the afternoon calling friends and organizing a party. As she had told Sarah, everyone she called was more than happy to contribute. By the time she put down the phone for the last time, not only did Grace have all the invitations issued and accepted, but all the food and drink was taken care of. She felt satisfied as she and Jamie locked up the store and headed home for the night.

* * *

“Would you zip me up?” Grace turned and presented her back to Laura. As she waited for Laura to do up her zip, Grace checked her hair and make-up in the mirror and smoothed her hands over the soft material of the off-the-shoulder dress in midnight blue.

Laura stepped up behind her, took hold of the zipper tab and pulled it slowly up, her warm fingers brushing over the skin of Grace’s back.

“You look great.” Laura dropped a kiss on Grace’s shoulder.

Grace shivered, the light touch and the low tone of Laura’s voice causing heat to settle between Grace’s legs. She leaned back against Laura.

“And you look hot as hell,” Grace replied, looking at their joint reflection in the mirror. Laura, who ‘did not do dresses,’ was wearing wide-legged black pants and a black halter top that showed off a tempting expanse of creamy skin. Her hair was stylishly mussed and her make-up so light it was nearly invisible -- except for the kohl outlining her smoky gray eyes.

“It’s my birthday, you know,” Laura muttered as she nibbled her way along Grace’s neck.

Grace bit her lip and her eyelids drooped. “Is that why all those people are coming here tonight?”

One of Laura’s hands slipped around to cup Grace’s breast, and the other moved down her thigh to grasp the material of the knee-length skirt. Oh so very slowly, she dragged the skirt up until she exposed the top of one of Grace’s stockings.

Laura emitted a soft moan. “Fuck, I love it that you wear stockings.” She eased her fingers inside the elasticized top and teased the skin of Grace’s thigh. Grace shuddered and pressed her thighs together. A wave of pleasure swept over her and she felt herself grow moist.

“Do we have time for you to give me my present?” Laura’s and traveled up Grace’s thigh and cupped her through her panties.

Grace gasped. “D-didn’t I already give you your present?” She gestured vaguely at the Celtic bracelet encircling Laura’s wrist.

“And I love it,” Laura replied, flicking a nail over Grace’s taut nipple through her dress. “But that’s the one I get to show off in public.”

“The other?” Grace pushed her hips into Laura’s hand.

Laura dipped one finger too briefly into Grace before withdrawing it again. “The other involves you, me and a pair of latex gloves.”

The moment broken, Grace snorted and pushed away. She smacked Laura lightly on the arm. “You are such a pervert.”

The doorbell rang then and Laura waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “So, we’ll take a raincheck on that, then?”

Grace bumped their hips as she passed Laura. “Keep dreaming, Birthday Girl.”

* * *

For the next three hours, Grace was barely able to snatch a moment alone with Laura. Grace watched her lover move through the crowd of their gathered friends, almost glowing at the attention, proudly introducing Sarah around.

Late in the evening, the party spilled out into the garden. Lanterns were lit and soft music drifted from speakers placed on the back porch.

Grace watched the couples on the dance floor, smiling at Jamie and his partner Nick moving together, holding each other close. They had only recently reunited after a long separation and seemed content to spend all their time in their own secluded little world.

Grace felt her hips begin to sway to the music. She jumped when she felt hands on her hips, but even without looking, she knew it was Laura.

“How about a dance for the birthday girl?” Laura wound her arms around Grace’s waist, pushed her hips into Grace’s ass.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Grace took one of Laura’s hands and led her out onto the grass.

They danced together to a couple of slow songs, then threw off their shoes and kicked up their heels to a few upbeat numbers.

A little out of breath, Grace excused herself and went to the kitchen to get the huge chocolate birthday cake. She put thirty candles on it and got Jamie and Nick to carry it out to the garden.

Laura blushed endearingly as their friends sang “Happy Birthday.” Grace sang as loudly as everyone else, but her voice trailed off when her eyes found Sarah in the crowd. Sarah was at the other side of the garden, sitting on a bench. Even in the darkness, lit only by the paper lanterns, Grace could tell that the woman was pale. Her shoulders were slumped and her chest was moving with the deep breaths she was taking. At the second Grace took her first step forward, Sarah raised her head and looked Grace right in the eye. Sarah glanced briefly at Laura, then back to Grace, and gave a sharp shake of her head. Grace hesitated before nodding in return.

Grace stood by Laura’s side as she cut the cake, smiling and cheering along with everyone else, but the first chance she got she headed over to Sarah.

Sarah was looking gray, and there were white lines bracketing her mouth, indicating that she was in pain.

“It wasn’t the wine, was it? That night you were sick.” Grace looked intently at Sarah.

Sarah’s eyes closed. She suddenly looked ten years older. “Not tonight, please. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Her eyes implored. “Let her have good memories of tonight.”

Grace could only agree. “You should go inside and lie down for a while. If Laura sees you like this she’ll know something’s wrong.”

With a nod, Sarah started to stand. “If you could just...”

As discreetly as possible, Grace helped Sarah into the house and up to the guest bedroom, where she settled her on the bed.

“Can I get you anything?” Grace asked, reluctant to leave Sarah like this.

“If you could get me a glass of water, please?” Sarah reached into the drawer in the nightstand and took out a pill bottle.

Grace wanted to ask questions, but knew that this was not the time. She left the bedroom, got a glass of water and returned. She handed the glass to Sarah and waited while she took the pills and set the glass on the nightstand.

“Go back to the party, sweetheart. Laura will miss you soon.” Sarah smiled at her, and Grace saw that some light was coming back into her eyes.

Grace nodded and moved reluctantly to the door. She paused there and looked back at Sarah. “We are going to talk about this.” Her voice was firm.

“As soon as we can get a moment alone. As I recall, the Princess likes to sleep late on a Sunday.” Sarah tried to smile, but it turned to a grimace.

Grace made to move back to the bed, but Sarah waved her away.

“Go back to the party, please. It’ll pass.”

Grace desperately wanted to know what it was, but she held her tongue.

She closed the door behind her and went back downstairs. She stood at the back door and watched Laura, a little tipsy, dancing barefoot on the grass, and smiled even as a sense of dread clutched at her.

* * *

The party broke up around three in the morning. Grace and Laura waved off their guests and went back to survey the disaster that has been their garden.

Jamie and Nick had insisted on staying behind to help out, but their help seemed to consist of seeing how far they could get their tongues down each other’s throats as they huddled together and made out like a couple of horny teenagers.

Laura snickered. “Hey, guys, take it somewhere else, will you? You’re making me a little queasy here.”

Grinning, Jamie pulled Nick up from the bench, making no attempt to hide the noticeable bulge in his jeans. Laura made a theatrical gagging sound.

“And you can point that somewhere else.”

Nick just snickered and shrugged at Jamie. “It’s always about the penis envy with dykes.”

In spite of the emotions churning through her, Grace had to laugh at the strangled sound Laura made.

Jamie took Nick’s hand and tugged him toward the door. “Come on, I think we should get out of here while we still have something worth envying. She’s packing scissors and she knows how to use them.”

As they passed Laura said, “Two words, boys -- multiple orgasms.”

The sound of laughter faded as Jamie and Nick moved through the house.

Laura turned to Grace with a wicked smile when they heard the front door close behind their friends. “Alone at last, my darling.”

“That is the worst English accent I’ve ever heard.”

Laura pulled her close. “I’ll ignore that insult to my acting skills, because you still owe me a birthday present.”

Eyes narrowing, Grace shot a warning look at her lover. “You come anywhere near me with rubber gloves and you’re sleeping on the couch, birthday or no birthday.”

Laura feigned a very disappointed expression. “Okay, no rubber gloves.” She lowered her head and touched their mouths together. “We’ll save that for Christmas when we can get some holly.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “Dear God, the mind boggles!”

“Lets go upstairs and I’ll really boggle your mind.” Laura took her hand and led her into the house.

Shaking her head in despair, Grace followed Laura up to their bedroom. As they passed the guest bedroom, Grace again felt a shiver of dread, but she determinedly pushed it aside. Tonight was Laura’s and nothing was going to spoil it.

* * *

Laura did indeed like to sleep in on a Sunday. This Sunday, after the rigors of the party and their own rather enthusiastic private celebration, Laura was still dead to the world, a mere bump under the comforter, when Grace left their room and went downstairs.

From the kitchen window, she saw Sarah in the garden with a trash bag, picking up the mess left behind by their guests.

Grace put on a pot of coffee and went out onto the porch.

“Sarah, why don’t you come in and join me for a coffee?”

Sarah looked at Grace, trepidation on her face. She looked quite a bit healthier than last night.

“Please,” Grace added quietly.

Nodding, Sarah let the bag fall onto the grass. She followed Grace into the kitchen and took a seat at the table while Grace poured coffee into two mugs, then joined her. Sarah wrapped her hands around the mug, her fingers tapping absently.

“How sick are you?” Grace asked quietly. She was grateful that Sarah didn’t try to make any denials.

“About as sick as it gets. The doc says I have maybe a month.” Her voice was matter-of-fact, like she’d had enough time to come to terms with the news.

Grace sagged back in her chair in shock. “A month? But how... what?” Her first thought was how devastated Laura was going to be.

Sarah took a sip of her coffee. “Cancer. With treatment, maybe two or three months.”

It was hardly good news, but Grace seized on it none the less. “When do you begin treatment?”

Sarah reached a hand across the table to touch Grace’s. “I don’t. I’ve spent the last year in hospitals having chemo, and the best it did was put the damn thing into remission for a while. No more hospitals. No more treatment. I don’t want the time I have left to be hooked up to machines with poison flowing through my veins.”

“A year?” Grace leaned forward. “You’ve been having treatment for a year and you didn’t tell Laura? Why?”

Sarah just smiled softly. “Because I didn’t want her to know. And I still don’t want her to know,” she finished pointedly.

Grace shook her head vehemently. “You can’t keep this from her. She needs to know.”

“Why?” Sarah raised an eyebrow. “So that she can start grieving now? There will be plenty of time for tears; I won’t make her shed one more than she has to.”

Realization hit Grace. “You want me to keep it from her. You want me to lie to her.”

“Not lie, just don’t tell her.” She looked at Grace with pleading eyes. “Please, Grace. Let her be happy for as long as possible.”

Grace got up from the table and walked to the other side of the kitchen, running her fingers through her hair. “This isn’t fair, Sarah. You can’t ask me to keep something like this from Laura. How am I supposed to live with her with a secret like that between us?” But in spite of her words, Grace could already feel her resistance crumbling. This news was going to devastate Laura. Was Sarah so wrong in wanting to keep it from her for as long as possible? But how could Grace look at Laura every day, knowing...?

Suddenly Sarah was standing in front of her. Grace hadn’t even heard her move.

“Please, Grace.”

Grace sighed and closed her eyes. She nodded her reluctant agreement, feeling as though she had just made some kind of deal with the devil.

* * *

On Monday afternoon, Grace stood in the train station watching Laura bid her farewell to Sarah.

They had spent most of Sunday, after the big clean up, lounging around the house, talking, listening to music and pigging out on the leftover food from the party. Grace had gotten to know more about Sarah: her work, her travels, how she had given it up for years and gone into teaching when she became Laura’s guardian, and the more she heard, the more she liked Sarah. But at that moment, watching Laura hug her godmother for what was likely the last time, Grace could quite easily have hated the woman. Rationally, Grace knew that this was probably one of the hardest, saddest moments of Sarah’s life, but Grace found it difficult to be rational knowing that in a few short weeks her lover was going to have to suffer through getting the news that the only mother she had ever really known had died alone in some hospice -- knowing that, for the next few weeks, she, Grace, would have to face Laura with this horrible secret between them.

When Sarah hugged her, she whispered in Grace’s ear, “I couldn’t have wished for anyone better for my girl. Take good care of her for me.”

Grace returned the hug and felt tears sting her eyes. “Thank you for your blessing and for making her what she is.”

Sarah squeezed Grace tightly before stepping back. She took her case, and with one last brief hug for Laura, she made her way along the platform to the train.

They stayed until the train had pulled out and disappeared from sight. Grace heard Laura sigh. She took Laura’s hand and squeezed it.

“Come on, baby, let’s go home.”

Laura looked at her in surprise. “Don’t you have to go into the store?”

“Jamie can hold down the fort today.” She linked her arm through Laura’s and led her out of the station to the parking lot.

When they were in the car Grace turned to Laura and smiled. “We have the house to ourselves.”

Laura’s grin was downright lecherous. “We don’t have to be quiet.”

“Oh, I don’t know, I think there was something kinda erotic about making love in silence.” In spite of it all, Grace could feel her body start to tingle.

“So what are we waiting for?” Laura waved her hand in the direction of the ignition. “Drive, woman!”

* * *

In the days and weeks that followed, Grace’s anxiety rose almost hourly. Every mail delivery or ring of the telephone set her nerves on edge. She found herself being more solicitous than normal with Laura: sending flowers to the salon, turning up out of the blue to take her to lunch, buying her little gifts of Godiva chocolates and CDs. She even got as far as going to a travel agent to book a week in the Bahamas for them, but the only thing that stopped her was the idea that they might miss the phone call.

If Laura felt smothered by Grace’s attention, then she said nothing -- although she did express some curiosity, which Grace explained away by asking if it was wrong to spoil her lover.

Grace knew, of course, that every gift, every surprise was an attempt to assuage her own guilt. She also knew that no amount of chocolate was going to do that, but it didn’t stop her.

There was a kind of desperation to their love-making. Grace was so determined to make it good for Laura that she ignored her own needs. Laura, even though she didn’t understand why, refused to allow this, and it became something of a battle for dominance. It added an edge to their sex-life that had never been there before -- and not an altogether pleasant one.

Grace was strung so tight that she thought there were moments when she might actually break. The need to confide in someone was like a physical pain, but Grace found that she couldn’t. It felt like it would be the ultimate betrayal of Laura.

When the call finally came, three long weeks after Sarah’s departure, there was almost a sense of relief for Grace.

But any relief she felt vanished in a heartbeat when she saw Laura, who had answered the call, slide to the floor, turn as pale as a ghost and stare in stunned silence into the air.

Grace took the phone from her, quickly finished the call with the nurse and then sat beside Laura on the floor and held her tight.

It was only that night, when they were lying in bed, that Laura finally broke down. Grace could only hold her as sobs racked her slender body, her own pain a cold hand around her heart.

Had Sarah been wrong to want to put off Laura’s terrible grief for as long as possible?

Grace stroked Laura’s hair back from her tear-bathed face. “I’m so sorry, baby,” she whispered, feeling useless in the face of such pain.

“W-why didn’t she tell me? She must have known. She must have.”

Guilt clawed at Grace. “She didn’t want you to hurt any more than you absolutely had to.”

Laura burrowed closer into Grace, her sobs receding until they were loud hiccups.

“She loved you so much.”

It must have been something in Grace’s voice that alerted Laura. Her body suddenly became stiff and motionless; she even seemed to stop breathing.

When she raised her head and looked at Grace, it seemed to confirm her budding suspicions.

“You knew.” Her voice was flat, stunned.

“Laura...” But Grace got no further. Laura leapt out of the bed with almost unnatural speed. She looked at Grace with wide, accusing eyes.

“Oh, God. You knew.”

Grace threw back the comforter and got out of bed. “Laura...” she tried again, moving to her lover, holding out her hands. But Laura knocked her hands away as anger glared hotly in her eyes and her body became so tense it almost shook.

“Don’t touch me,” Laura spat out. “I can’t believe you kept something this huge from me... I just... how?” Grace suspected that the tears on Laura’s cheeks now were more from anger than grief.

“She practically begged me, baby. Please try to understand,” Grace implored, trying again to get close to Laura, but again Laura stepped back out of her reach.

“Understand? Understand what, baby?” She practically spat the word and Grace flinched. “Shall I tell you what I understand? I understand that you robbed me of the last three weeks of my mother’s life. You robbed me of a proper goodbye. I should have been there with her, at the end. But because of you, I wasn’t. Because of you, she died alone.” Laura’s words ended on a ragged sob.

Grace wanted to plead her case, to tell Laura that if anyone had denied her then it was Sarah, but she knew that laying any blame at Sarah’s door right then would be monumentally wrong. Not to mention stupid.

“I don’t think she wanted you to see her like that, remember her like that,” Grace reasoned quietly.

Laura spun away, the movement jerky with agitation. “You shouldn’t have done it, Grace.” Her voice was soft, giving Grace some hope that she was getting through even a little.

But when she turned back to Grace, her gray eyes were cold. “I’ll never forgive you for this.” It was somehow more ominous spoken quietly than it would have been if Laura had screamed the words.

Grace watched with rising panic as Laura pulled on jeans and a sweater, slipped her bare feet into a pair of sneakers and went to the closet, where she took out a bag and began stuffing clothes into it haphazardly.

“What are you doing?” Grace moved to her side, but Laura kept packing, refusing to look at her. “Please, Laura, don’t go like this; we need to talk.”

“Right now, I don’t even want to be around you, much less talk to you.” Laura swung the bag over her shoulder and headed for the door.

Grace had never felt more powerless in her life. “Wait, where are you going?”

Pausing and looking over her shoulder, Laura said, “I have a funeral to arrange. I’m taking the car.”

Grace could only watch as Laura walked away. She heard the jingle of car keys, the slam of the front door, and then... nothing. Feeling suddenly numb, she sat down on the edge of the bed and waited for the pain that would surely come.

* * *

The telephone was once again the enemy. Every time it rang, Grace froze, her heart stopped beating and her breath became lodged in her throat until she was light-headed, then she would spring into action and snatch up the receiver.

Every time it wasn’t Laura, Grace hated the instrument a little bit more.

She spent all of Tuesday pacing up and down the living room, eyes constantly flicking between the phone and the front door, ears pricking up at the sound of every car engine passing through the street.

Jamie was once again looking after the store. Somewhere in her subconscious there was a little niggle of guilt about this, but it was completely overwhelmed by the mounting anxiety that made Grace’s hands tremble and her heartbeat irregular. Panic was a time bomb in her stomach, threatening to explode at any second.

Grace desperately tried to hold it together, telling herself that Laura would be back, over and over again, like a mantra -- or a prayer. But every time she whispered the words, a voice in her head taunted her with the reply “Of course she’ll come back. She has to collect her things, doesn’t she?”

Jamie came by on Wednesday evening, Grace having once again called to let him know that she wouldn’t be in. The second he saw Grace he grimaced. Grace could only imagine what she looked like: hair un-brushed, dark circles of exhaustion under her eyes, and wearing the pajamas she had gone to bed in two nights before. Without a word, he pulled her into a hug right there on the front porch.

For the next two hours, Jamie listened to her rant, alternating between guilt at herself and anger at Sarah.

He made her some food and sat across the table from her until she had eaten at least half of the meal -- Grace would later be unable to recall exactly what had been on the plate Jamie had set before her.

“So, now you just wait?” Jamie asked, sipping from a mug of coffee. “Go quietly out of your mind as you wait for the sound of a key in the lock?”

Grace pushed her plate away. “I don’t see that I have much option.”

Jamie sighed. “Well, you could, you know, stop feeling sorry for yourself, get off your ass and go to her. Make sure that she doesn’t have to go through the funeral alone.”

Anger flared in Grace. She pushed away from the table and glared at Jamie. “Feeling sorry for myself? Is that what you think?” She spun away, pacing agitatedly around the kitchen, hands clenching and unclenching. “Were you here? Did you see her face? No. No, you didn’t.” She dragged a hand through already unkempt hair. “I may be losing the only woman I have ever really loved, and I’m rapidly coming to hate a dead woman. So yes, maybe I am feeling a little fuckin’ sorry for myself.” Her chest was rising and falling rapidly with the effort of breathing.

Jamie just watched her until she ran out of steam and dropped back into the chair opposite. When she finally looked at him, he said, “Do you want to borrow my car?”

With a watery smile, Grace nodded.

* * *

Grace walked along the hotel hallway, her legs seeming to become weaker with every step she took. Her body felt flushed with nerves and her chest tight. She stopped outside room 602 and raised her hand to knock, but she hesitated and lowered her hand to wipe a sweaty palm on the material of her skirt. She took a deep breath and raised her hand again. This time, she forced herself to tap her knuckles against the door and waited for a reply. She felt a bead of perspiration break out on her forehead and had the strong urge to turn and run. What if Laura turned her away, told her that it was over? It was too painful to even contemplate.

She heard muffled footsteps behind the door and swallowed convulsively, tugging on the hem of her jacket to straighten it, as if she was going to her first ever job interview.

When the door opened, Grace only just managed to stifle the gasp that rose in her throat. Laura looked ill. Her eyes were dark and sunken, her pallor ashen. Was it possible that she could have lost weight in just three days? Grace wanted more than anything to take her lover in her arms and hold her until some of the life came back into her.

Laura looked at her blankly then stepped to the side and made a tired gesture with her hand for Grace to enter. Grace ached for her. If her week had been bad, then Laura’s had clearly taken bad to new heights.

She walked into the room and stood in the middle of the floor, watching Laura close the door behind her. She turned to Grace, and with that same, horribly blank expression, asked “How did you know where I was?” Her voice was flat, emotionless.

Grace gripped the handles of her bag tightly in her fist and felt her toes curl in her shoes as she fought the urge to go to Laura. “The nurse at the hospice told me. I… I know you didn’t want me here, but I had to come. I’m so sorry, baby…” She stopped abruptly as the endearment slipped naturally from her lips.

But the anger she expected from Laura wasn’t forthcoming. Instead, Laura turned toward the bed and picked up several folded sheets of paper. She brought them to Grace and simply held them out. When Grace took them, Laura turned and went to stand by the window. The light shining through the window outlined her slender frame and Grace saw that her jeans were hanging a little lower on her hips than normal. She looked down at the papers in her hand so that she didn’t have to look at the slump of Laura’s shoulders, and found that it was a letter. She knew from the very first words that the letter was from Sarah.

My Darling Girl,

Do you have any idea how much joy and happiness you have brought to my life since you came to me? It breaks my heart to know that, as you read this letter, you will be grieving and in pain. That is the last thing I ever wanted for you, and for that reason I didn’t tell you about my illness. I wanted our last days together to be happy, not filled with tears. I know that you are probably angry with me right now for not telling you, but I wanted to put off your pain for as long as possible…

The letter was four pages long, but Grace couldn’t read anymore as the words began to swim before tear-blurred eyes. She raised her head and looked at Laura again, and could stand it no longer. She dropped her bag and the letter onto the bed and moved to stand behind Laura. Without giving herself time for second thoughts, she wrapped her arms around Laura’s waist and pulled them tightly together. Laura did nothing to fight the embrace, rather, she leaned back against Grace, turned her head so that their cheeks were touching.

“I’ve missed you.” Laura’s voice was rough, as if she hadn’t used it for a while.

Grace tightened her arms further and touched her lips softly to the side of Laura’s neck. “Oh, baby. You have no idea how scared I’ve been. Please, please forgive me…”

A ragged sob escaped Laura. She turned in Grace’s arms.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Laura whispered and lowered her head until their lips were touching. She brought her hands up to cup Grace’s face and ground their mouths together in an almost desperate kiss. Grace felt her own teeth forced uncomfortably against the tender flesh inside her mouth, but made no attempt to break the contact. Instead, her arms tightened around Laura’s slender body and she just held on, her mouth opening when Laura’s tongue pushed between her lips.

Laura delved deeply, breathing raggedly through her nose. She lowered her hands to Grace’s shoulders and shoved her jacket down her arms, letting it fall to the floor, then insinuated one hand inside the scooped neckline of Grace’s shirt. Grace heard a tearing sound, but if she thought to say anything, it was instantly lost as Laura’s hand cupped her breast. She kneaded it a little too firmly, but any pain was lost as her fingernail scraped over Grace’s nipple. Grace tore her mouth from Laura’s and gulped in air, but Laura was on her again in a second, ravaging her mouth, clutching at her breast.

Laura moved away just long enough to sweep Grace’s shirt over her head. She reached for the front clasp on Grace’s bra and when it didn’t give way immediately, she ripped it open. Grace gasped in shock as her breasts spilled into Laura’s waiting hands. The desire on Laura’s face was raw, visceral. Her eyes shone with some emotion that was foreign to Grace – even in their wildest encounters, she had never seen Laura like this.

“Laura, baby, slow down, we have all night…” Grace tried to make her voice soothing, but Laura just shook her head.

“Now. I want you now.” Spinning them around, she pushed Grace none too gently so that she landed on the bed, the breath forced from her lungs by the fall and the surprise. Laura moved quickly, straddling Grace and lowering her head to suck a nipple into the warm heat of her mouth.

Grace moaned and arched her back, her hands gripping Laura’s thighs as her lover dragged her tongue over and around her cresting nipple, even as her hand slid down Grace’s body and dragged her skirt up her legs. Without preamble she pushed aside Grace’s panties and drove a long finger inside her.

Grace felt tears sting the back of her eyes. Laura hadn’t hurt her, but there was nothing tender in her touch. This was not the lover Grace knew.

Releasing Grace’s breast, Laura moved back up her body and took her mouth in another hard, punishing kiss, her fingers moving determinedly between Grace’s legs, parting her lips and stroking roughly.

“Laura, Laura, please, baby, please stop,” Grace pleaded when she was able to turn her head to the side. She felt a tear escape and run down the side of her face.

Above her, Laura seemed to freeze. One hand was still on Grace’s breast, the other inside her panties, but there was no movement -- Grace couldn’t even hear the sound of breathing. She slowly turned her head back and looked up at Laura. Her lover’s eyes were wide with something like shock. She brought the hand that had been on Grace’s breast up to Grace’s face and touched the moisture under her eye. The room was so quiet that Grace was sure she could hear their hearts beating.

Then, suddenly, Laura was moving. She pulled away from Grace as though she had been burned and stumbled backward, only stopping when she bumped into the dresser. Grace could see the trembling start in Laura’s body, watched it increase until Laura couldn’t seem to stand any longer. She slumped to the floor, her beautiful face a mask of horror.

Grace pushed up from the bed and, heedless of her state of undress, rushed across the room to drop to her knees in front of Laura. Laura shrank back when Grace reached out to her.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” The words fell from Laura’s lips as she shook. Over and over again. “I’m sorry.”

Grace pulled her lover into her arms and held her, burying her face in Laura’s hair. “Ssh, baby. It’s okay.” She rocked back and forth, as if comforting a child.

Clutching at Grace, Laura slowly began to calm. “I wouldn’t hurt you. I promise I wouldn’t ever…”

“I know, I know.” Grace placed gentle, loving kisses on Laura’s hair and felt her relax in her arms. Finally, looking so young and vulnerable, Laura lifted her head and met Grace’s eyes.

“Take me home, Gracie. I want to be in our house, in our bed with you. I don’t ever want to be anywhere else.”

Grace felt tears run down her face, but had to give a little laugh. “I think I can manage to live like that.”

She held Laura against her, sending up a prayer of thanks to any deity who might be listening for giving her this second chance. Laura would be fragile for a while, but Grace would be there with her every step of the way. There was nowhere she would rather be.

End

If Only in Cranbury Park

Charlotte Dare

Part One

Courtney watched the cat twitch as he slept in the lamb’s wool kitty bed too small for his fifteen pound body. Downstairs the rumble of boxes and plastic storage containers Joanna carted out of their house reverberated in her ears. The acoustics of mosaic tile and refinished hardwood floors precluded a silent escape. Courtney closed her eyes, woozy from the echoes below, and wondered what kind of demented impulse compelled her to stay home this morning.

“Courtney,” Joanna shouted from the foot of the staircase. “I’m leaving the keys on the dining room table.”

Courtney sniffled and swallowed. “All right,” she shouted back after clearing the sadness from her throat. Was it so surprising it’d come to this after the last tumultuous year? She stroked Oliver’s ear and hoped Joanna wasn’t going to come back for him, too.

“Hey, Court,” Joanna called again, her voice this time stilted with hesitation. “I’m leaving. Do you want to say good-bye?”

What a question. Courtney sighed and shuffled her cross-trainers across the frieze throw rug in the hall. She leaned over the railing and looked down on the fly-aways on top of Joanna’s dark chocolate hair. “You were right. I should’ve gone for coffee or something this morning.”

Joanna’s deep green eyes were glassy and anxious. “Courtney, someday we’ll be friends again. I really hope so anyway,” she said and walked away after a solemn nod.

When Courtney heard the door close, she walked downstairs and gazed at the holes left by Joanna’s missing antique rocking chair, mystery novels, and Hummel collection. The picture frames of them during holidays and summer vacations were gone too, but Courtney had appropriated those herself last week when Joanna had come back from her sister’s house with her brother-in-law and his SUV and announced she was leaving. They’d moved her armoire, treadmill, business files, and most of her clothing. Today was the day the seasonal clothing left and Joanna did too, for good.

Courtney collapsed on the loveseat and sank into the hollow silence. After a while, she remembered to breathe. It was a long, deep breath, but she couldn’t suck in enough air to distill her despair into something she could use. She finally picked up the cordless, pressed Julian’s speed dial number and closed her eyes.

“She’s gone,” she said when he answered.

“I’m sorry, honey.” The somberness in his voice only made it worse. “You wanna come over? Ted’s bringing home pizza after work.”

“I can’t move, Jules. I literally can’t move. I don’t even know how I made it to the living room.”

He sighed, and Courtney knew he’d finally depleted his arsenal of perky ant moving rubber tree plant speeches. She felt guilty knowing her ongoing drama with Joanna had been the cause.

“Do you want me to come over? You probably shouldn’t be alone right now especially since you’re there at the scene of the crime.”

“Crime,” she chuckled. “What crime? First degree stupidity? Guilty as charged.”

“Stop calling yourself stupid. You fell in love. Sorry, but that’s never a victimless crime.”

“But I should’ve known from the day we met it wouldn’t work.”

“But it did work, for four years. Sometimes even the greatest loves of all time aren’t meant to last forever.”

“Jules, I know you’re trying to spin this into one of those you’re a better person for having loved her allegories, but I’m just not in the mood. I wanted forever, and I didn’t get it, didn’t even come close.”

“It was a sweet ride, though, wasn’t it?”

“It’s a nightmare, is what it is. Joanna’s a coward, a spineless chicken shit who cut and ran at the first sign of a challenge.”

“Look, you know you’re my best friend, and I’m not taking her side by any means, but I can kind of understand why she couldn’t handle it.”

Courtney’s mouth dropped. What did he just say? “Well, it’s terrific that you can be so sure since I don’t even know what’s real anymore.” She tried not getting riled, but her knees, spread apart, were bobbing up and down like buoys in a choppy ocean. “I mean she’d already given me a litany of excuses from the club, to I’m never home, to we want different things from life. Her latest was that I’m still obsessed with the bar scene, and therefore, must not be happy with her. What kind of neurotic, half-baked excuse is that?”

“You’re seventeen years younger than her, Court. You run one of the most popular lesbian bars in the Village. You meet women all the time, and you travel a lot, mostly without her. Doesn’t sound so neurotic. She’s probably just looking for more stability. I mean she is getting up there.”

“She’s forty-eight, and Jesus, Julian, what are you, her attorney?”

“I’m sorry. I know the last thing you want to hear right now is the truth.”

“What was I supposed to do, give up everything I am for her?”

“Did you expect her to?”

“No, I just wanted her to have a little more faith in us, maybe try to be a little supportive of me once in a while.”

“You know, if you sold even one of those clubs you’d make a fortune. Take the money and do whatever you want with it.”

“I like running nightclubs, traveling and meeting new people. What’s so wrong with that?”

“Courtney, I better go now. If we stay on the phone, you’re going to end up hating me.”

“Come on, Julian. I already feel like shit. Just say your piece once and for all. You’ve obviously been dying to.”

He cleared his throat. “Okay, the club’s five-year anniversary party in August.”

“What about it?”

“You were out there doing your best Tom Cruise from ‘Cocktail’ behind the bar, and as usual all the dykes were clambering around, trying to get a piece of you. And you smiled and winked and had them practically creaming their Levi’s.”

She sat forward on the sofa and mounted her defense. “So what? It’s part of how I keep the bar solvent. See, you sort of need lesbians to run a lesbian bar. Otherwise, you have an empty space with lease payments piling up.”

“But I saw how uncomfortable it made Joanna. You left her hanging in the shadows like some anonymous troll while she watched you work the room. And I gotta be honest; you feed right into it, Court. You go way beyond hospitality; you’re a big ole flirt.”

Courtney wiped her face with her free hand, exhausted by the conversation. She was this close to inviting him to piss off, but right now, her best friend was all she had left. “I have to go now, Julian. Luckily, it’s Saturday, and I have to fill in for Wanda tonight, which is just what I need. I gotta escape all this relationship bullshit for a few hours.”

She slammed the phone down, realizing that her first choice for the afternoon, crying her eyes out on the loveseat, would’ve been more productive than her phone call to Julian. Joanna’s hang-ups were her problem, not Courtney’s. Let Joanna’s sister deal with her now. She was through.

* * *

As Joanna stood in her modest commercial kitchen, the stainless steel prep island inspired a graphic memory of the day she and Courtney met. But now wasn’t the time to drift into the past. She had four dozen mini pastry cups to stuff with lobster, shiitake mushroom, and herb filling. It was an original creation Courtney had taste-tested and given an enthusiastic seal of approval. Was there some hidden meaning in Joanna choosing that hors d’oeurve for the TV soap exec’s birthday party she was catering tonight in Belle Haven? Just another sign of how indelible a mark Courtney had made on her.

Zach, her culinary student assistant, carried in a large tray of kiwi and raspberry tarts.

“Hey, Jo, check these out,” he said with a proud grin. “Do you want me to load them into the van now?”

She kept slathering the creamy mixture into the pastries, oblivious to Zach.

“Jo,” he said louder. “Are you in or should I leave a message?”

“Sorry, Zach. I am kind of out of it today.”

“Oh, shit,” he said with a dramatic expression. “You moved out this morning. How’d she take it?”

“The best I can say is nothing got smashed.” Joanna stood up straight and gave her lower back a stretch. “I’m glad we have this party tonight.”

“I feel bad, Jo. That really sucks.” He pulled off a long sheet of industrial plastic wrap to cover the dessert tray. “I was psyched about the idea of you opening your own restaurant. You’d get all famous and I’d get to learn under an awesome chef in a real, live kitchen.” He dialed it down to an appropriate level. “You must be pretty bummed.”

She nodded and rubbed an itch on her chin with the back of her hand. “I’ll do it eventually on my own, but now I have to wait until I get everything straightened out with her.”

“Did she like back out on the idea or something?”

“No, she kept saying she wanted to, but it just never happened. She’s got those two clubs, you know? A person can’t be in three places at once.”

“Damn, she was hot, too,” he gushed, forgetting himself as he absently patted his bulging pectoral. “I’d love to be a lesbian for a day.”

Joanna glared at him as she pulled off a large sheet of plastic wrap for her tray.

“Sorry,” he said. “Like I need to tell you. You’re the one who had her.”

“Zach,” she snapped. She inhaled a deep, calming breath through her nose and blew it out her mouth. “Can we just change the subject please? Let’s talk about your love life. How’s Becca doing these days?”

“Great, except she won’t leave me alone. She calls me twenty-four seven, wants to spend every waking moment with me, but I’ve got work and school. I love her, but I wish she’d find something to occupy herself and give me a little space.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Joanna warned. Her stomach suddenly dropped when she remembered she’d be going home to her sister’s house in Stamford rather than to Courtney after the soap exec’s shindig.

“Well, look on the bright side,” Zach said, his chiseled face goofy with optimism. “These entertainment industry gigs are usually full of gay people. Now you can go for it.” He smiled even bigger than Joanna thought possible.

No, he did not just say that. She shot him a baffled look.

“What?” he asked innocently.

She tried not to smile but couldn’t help it. “Just load the damn van, okay?”

* * *

Lucy was distressed, darting back and forth from one end of the bar to the other as the Saturday night crowd at Tango started pouring in. It was after ten-thirty when Courtney meandered through the masses over to the bar.

“Where the hell is Wanda?” Lucy shouted over the throbbing house music as she squirted club soda and Coke into separate glasses.

“She’s not feeling well. Guess you’ll have to make do with the boss tonight.”

“I’d make do with anyone right now. Get your butt back here.”

Courtney forced a smile and joined Lucy behind the bar. Forcing Joanna and her hang-ups out of her mind was another story. She’d stared at the television most of the day, floating in and out of lucidity as Oliver perched on her chest at intervals. Joanna’s departure had left her numb; not even her tear ducts functioned properly. It was after seven o’clock when Courtney had finally dragged her ass off the couch and jumped into the shower. The hour or so drive down to the Village, dodging love songs on seemingly every radio station, did little to distract her.

“What can I get you, beautiful?” she asked an African-American woman with dangling jewelry.

“I’ll take a Cosmo, that is unless you’re tonight’s special,” the older woman replied. She casually licked her front teeth as she inventoried Courtney from the neck down.

“No, that was last night.” Courtney flirted. “But I’ll make you a Cosmo that’ll rock your world.”

“Mmm-mmm, bring it, baby.”

Holy shit. Was Julian right? No, I’m just friendly. It’s my job.

As Courtney mixed the Cosmo, Jade, a petite, wild-haired regular with curve-hugging jeans and cat eyes shoved through to Courtney’s side of the bar.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Jade drawled. “How about a Stoli Razberi, ice cold?”

“You got it,” Courtney replied with her signature wink.

Jade hopped on a recently vacated stool and took a swig of her cocktail. “So what’s new with you?” she asked when Courtney reappeared with several bottles of Corona for a young jock stuffed in sideways against the bar.

“You know, same old,” Courtney offered Jade. “Thanks, girls,” she said with an alluring grin to the jock’s entourage of college girls. P. R. work she had called it once when Joanna asked why she laid it on so thick with the newcomers.

“So Court, can you get some breakfast at the diner after closing, or do you have to head right home to Mama?” Jade teased before Courtney had a chance to escape.

The “Mama” comment hurt. She knew Jade had called Joanna that out of jealousy, but now that Joanna was gone, it was like twisting the knife. “I’m pretty tired. I’m only here because Wanda’s sick. Take a rain check though,” she added for good measure.

“Yeah, I’m getting sick of your rain checks, honey. You live in the Brazilian jungle or something?” Jade said. She looked offended. “I’m gonna do a lap or two around. Maybe I’ll find myself a chick who’ll appreciate all this.” She leapt off her stool, whipped auburn curls around and displayed herself like the grand prize on a game show.

“Have fun,” Courtney said with a salute.

Lucy wandered over. “She’s relentless, isn’t she?”

“Some people only want what they can’t have,” Courtney replied, wondering if she was really referring to Jade after all.

“But she’s seen Joanna in here with you a million times. She knows you two are a couple.”

Courtney tossed her dish towel on the counter and rubbed her tired eyes. “Were a couple.” The words sounded as eerie as it felt saying them.

“What? Are you shitting me?” Lucy asked.

Courtney glared at her. “Do I look like I’m shitting you?”

“Man, I can’t believe it. I mean I know she hasn’t been in here for a while, but I never suspected… Did this just happen or what?”

“It’s been slowly happening for several months, but she moved out this morning.”

“I’m sorry, Court. Are you all right?”

Courtney nodded and popped open two Millers for an older lesbian couple, Saturday night regulars, so perfect together it was easy to forget they were separate people. For the first time, Courtney had actually taken notice.

“At least you know when you’re ready, there’s plenty to choose from here,” Lucy said.

Courtney glanced around at the variety of faces and frowned.

“I’m sorry. That was unbelievably insensitive,” Lucy said.

“It’s okay,” Courtney replied. Lucy was right, but what did it matter? It was like showing up at a buffet with a stomach bug. True, she could have her pick of Tango’s finest, but the only woman she wanted was Joanna.

* * *

It was after two a.m. when Joanna finally collapsed into the downy flannel sheets on the queen-size bed in her sister Nancy’s guest room. It felt unnatural alone, without Courtney spooning against her and Oliver balled up between their legs.

She was exhausted, her head a bowling ball indenting the pillow, yet she couldn’t sleep. When she closed her eyes, a vivid silent movie reel from the day she met Courtney rolled against her eyelids. She was too sapped to stop it.

When Courtney had walked into the cramped store-front reception area of Joanna Hilliard Catering, Joanna’s stare bordered on rude. She couldn’t look away from the young woman’s creamy skin and dazzling smile, scruffy sun-bleached hair, and toned deltoids rounding off the short sleeves of her Tango baby doll tee.

As they huddled at the round table discussing menu options, Joanna had trouble focusing on business. She kept saying things like excuse me or what was that whenever Courtney would lean closer, accidentally bump her knee into Joanna’s, or lick her full, glossy lips.

“Do you see anything else you want?” Joanna asked and knew by Courtney’s cocky grin, she’d better be careful about how she turned a phrase around this one.

“Oh, you mean on the menu?” Courtney teased.

“Yes, Ms. Wade, on the menu,” Joanna said with contrived professionalism. She tried not to smile. This kid had some nerve.

“Nope, I think I’m all set.” Courtney got up and tucked her shirt into her jeans with her thumb.

“I’m sure everything’s going to be delicious. My mouth’s watering already.”

“Okay, then. That’s all we need for now.” Joanna played it ultra cool. She clicked her pen, stuck it behind her ear and folded up Courtney’s deposit, flipping shut her leather-bound writing tablet. Joanna had been single and contented for over two years, but this girl had her grappling for any reason to extend the conversation. “So give me a call if you change your mind about anything. I’m very flexible.”

“That’s good to know,” Courtney said with a lustful gleam.

Joanna blushed, but quickly recouped. “So did you find me in Yellow Book?”

Courtney shook her head. “Word of mouth. I hear you’re the best.”

Joanna walked her to the door. “Really? From whom? I think I owe someone a fruit basket.”

“Hannah St. Claire.”

“Oh, yes, Hannah,” Joanna said with a dubious grin. “The famous lesbian eroticist. She certainly knows how to throw a soirée.”

“She said she couldn’t decide what her guests raved more about after the party, the food or you.”

Joanna looked away and giggled. “They were a tad disappointed when I had to break the news that I wasn’t the main course.”

Courtney smirked through a penetrating gaze. “Some people can be so tacky. Well, I’d love for you to stay as a guest at Tango’s anniversary bash, but I make no promises that the women there won’t wonder the same thing.”

“What makes you sure they will?” Joanna asked.

“Because Hannah was right.” Courtney scanned Joanna from head to toe as she wrapped her fingers around the door handle. She started heading out, and then suddenly swung around. “You know, there is one more thing.”

Joanna grinned. Before she knew it, they’d burst through the kitchen door in a blistering embrace. Hands explored the sensual terrain, and lips sizzled as they kissed with insatiable desire. They braced against the prep island, smearing the stainless steel with fingerprints as Courtney lifted Joanna up on the counter. Courtney then leapt on top of her with smooth athleticism. They melted into each other, lips locked in sweaty synchronization, tugging at each other’s pants. With jeans unzipped and unbuttoned, they slid off the counter and leaned against it as they vigorously stroked each other. Joanna threw her head back in ecstasy as Courtney’s tongue flicked against her neck. Their pleasured cries echoed through the sparkling metallic kitchen until unison orgasms left them panting, tangled in each other’s arms.

After catching her breath, Courtney smiled sweetly. “I see why you come so highly recommended.”

Joanna’s skin flashed like a road flare as she zipped her jeans. “I swear I have never done this with a client before.”

“Now you have no choice,” Courtney stated. “You have to attend my celebration.”

Joanna didn’t speak to Courtney again until Tango’s anniversary party, so mortified by her outrageously unprofessional antics. But they both knew from the moment they’d met the chemistry boiled over between them. Courtney had committed a professional faux pas of her own the night of the party when she refused to leave Joanna’s side.

As the digital clock blipped to three thirty-two a.m., Joanna flipped on her side, dogged by restlessness. In the murky silence, it was easy to think being without Courtney was a dream. How did it get to this point? One minute they were consumed by the obsessive mania of new love, days filled with eager phone calls and text messages and nights of intense passion. Was she simply expecting too much time and attention from Courtney? Sleep wouldn’t come, but she knew what she wanted in a partner and had lived long enough to know settling for less only gets you alone anyway.

* * *

A week later at Tango, Jade was on a mission, more driven than ever to get her intentions across loud and clear. As Courtney trolled the perimeter of the club, checked in with bartenders at both stations to make sure operations were running smoothly, Jade was her shadow. When Jade finally snagged her, it became apparent to Courtney that, despite her somewhat annoying, gnat-like presence, this girl had an undeniable appeal. Her body was amazing, with a tight ass, succulent cleavage and a raw sexuality Courtney found tough to resist, even in the throes of emotional disarray.

Jade jumped in front of her to secure her undivided attention. “I’m not looking for a relationship,” she stated. “I know you need time, and I respect that, but I also know we can have some serious fun back at my loft tonight. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Courtney studied the small facial features as Jade pouted, gazing up at her. She knew Jade was right, too; they’d no doubt have a wild time together. Maybe raunchy, uninhibited sex with someone she didn’t give a shit about was just what she needed. “I’m flattered Jade, but I’m afraid I can’t tonight,” she replied with all manner of diplomacy.

Jade sucked in her cheeks. “What the fuck? Am I a butterface? Too short? You don’t like redheads?” She fired off the rounds so fast, Courtney could barely defend herself.

“No, none of those things. You’re really attractive. It’s just that I’m kind of grieving right now. The breakup wasn’t exactly my idea.” Courtney kicked herself the minute it slipped. What would it do to her street cred if all of Tango’s clientele found out she’d been the dumpee rather than the dumper?

Jade’s shoulders slumped. “Sorry, I didn’t know. I’d just assumed you kicked her to the curb. I mean what idiot would let you go?”

“Joanna’s not an idiot.” Wait, did she just defend Joanna? The woman who trashed her heart, the woman whom she’d loved more than she’d ever loved anyone who walked out on her without even looking back?

“Then let’s just go out as friends,” Jade suggested. “How about tomorrow night? We’ll grab some dinner and a movie. Get your mind off your troubles for a while.”

“I don’t think I’m ready yet, it being only a week and all. My fuzzy blanket and the television are all I can think about right now, but hey, thanks for the offer.” She pacified Jade with a gushy smile.

Jade’s expression softened as she threw a hand on her hip. “Okay, lady, but just know you’re not getting off the hook that easy. I’ll be around.”

“You’re a peach, Jade,” Courtney said and fake punched her shoulder.

Courtney wore her dazzling smile until Jade disappeared into the crowd. She dreaded the idea of Jade or any one of her regulars reading the defeat on her face, seeing the truth behind the Courtney Wade mystique. She was the lesbian bar scene’s hottest young entrepreneur living a charmed life with her sexy, sophisticated partner by her side. Now what separated her from the swarm of barflies constantly buzzing around her, hoping to be Courtney Wade’s next lover or latest hookup? She was one of them now, single, lovelorn, and hating Joanna. Of course, they hated Joanna. They knew there wasn’t one among them who stood a chance.

As she stepped out onto the sidewalk, Courtney sighed. She watched her breath billow out like clouds in the icy night air. Had she always been that shallow, reveling in something as trite as popularity? She trudged over to the parking garage, lost in contemplation. When she started her Acura TL and the dome light faded, a deluge of emotion poured out like she’d never known. She covered her face with her leather-gloved hands and bawled over the roar of the heater.

“I fucking hate you,” she cried, smashing her fists into the steering wheel.

* * *

“Are you just going to keep pushing that salad around in your plate?” Nancy asked.

“I’m not hungry.” Joanna sighed and gazed out the window of the downtown Westport bistro at a craggy mound of plowed snow. “It’s so dirty and gray out. It feels like spring’s never going to arrive.”

“I wish I could say I know what you’re going through,” Nancy said, munching a strip of grilled chicken. “But Sam and I are going to the grave together.”

“The curse of marrying the high school sweetheart,” Joanna drawled. “You can’t commiserate with the rest of us poor slobs who can’t seem to hang on to love.” She used her fork to slap an olive across her plate.

“Jo, are you sure there isn’t more to this story? Did she cheat on you or something?” Nancy brushed wispy, dyed-blonde bangs from her eyes as she awaited the answer.

“No. Well, I don’t think she did. I mean I have no proof.” Joanna suddenly got cranky at Nancy’s intimation. “And what do you mean by more? Isn’t what I told you enough?”

“I’m just asking.”

Joanna tapped her middle finger on the table cloth. “Well, she and her business partner run another club in South Beach. How do I know what she’s up to when she’s down there?”

“You think she fools around with the business partner?” Nancy asked.

“With Dawn?” Joanna grimaced. “You remember Ernest Borgnine?”

Nancy nodded.

“Dawn is the last person she’d fool around with, of that I’m certain.”

“I don’t picture Courtney as the philandering type anyway. And besides, why would anyone cheat on you? So you’ve got almost two decades on her. You’re a very well-preserved forty-eight.”

Joanna threw her cloth napkin on the table. “Is this supposed to be making me feel better?”

“It’s supposed to make me feel better. I’m a well-preserved fifty-two.”

“Nance, can we just drop this conversation? What difference does it make now? It’s over. And you did try to warn me about her. I guess I should’ve broken tradition and listened to you.”

“Hey, don’t go dragging me into this. Sure, at first I was more than a little wary of the age difference, but once I got to know Courtney, it wasn’t even an issue.” Nancy smiled in fond reminiscence. “I’m quite sad about it; I liked her. And you were so interesting with her, especially when you first started dating. I never knew you were such a horny devil.”

“Have yourself some incredible, earth-shaking sex and see if it doesn’t turn you into one,” Joanna replied.

“Thanks. Rub it in. You know that Sam is the only guy I ever…”

“I know,” Joanna interrupted with her hand. She moved the half-eaten salad to the edge of the table.

“Look, if you’re not going to eat a nutritive meal, order a gigantic hot fudge sundae. Might as well get all the mileage you can out of this calamity.”

Joanna nodded and glanced blankly out the window.

“Are you thinking it was a mistake leaving?” Nancy asked after a few moments.

Joanna glared at her. “No, of course not. Why would you even ask that?” She huffed as she returned her gaze to the winter landscape.

“You don’t have to bite my head off,” Nancy sniped. “It’s not an unreasonable question. And what do you keep staring at out there?”

Joanna faced her, determined to convince any doubters. “I had to get away from her. I hated who I was turning into. Believe me, Nancy. This was definitely the right decision.”

“If you say so,” Nancy replied and signaled for the waiter. “All I know is someone’s getting a sundae out of this.”

* * *

The Grind coffee house on Christopher Street bustled with its usual eclectic crowd.

An unkempt man in a linty pea coat jockeyed for position in line with what was either a drag queen fueling up for an early curtain or Reba McIntyre’s cousin from Flatbush.

Courtney studied a teenaged couple smooching and sharing secrets at a corner table. “Was love that easy for you, Julian?” she asked, still gawking at the teens.

“Why, of course,” he drawled, stirring Splenda into his coffee. “The entire Notre Dame High School football team fought over who’d get to take me to the prom.”

“I don’t mean then, I mean now. You’ve been with Ted for seven years, and you hardly ever complain about him. I’m just wondering why it’s never been that way for me. There was Maya and Lisa…”

“And a whole slew of others.”

“I really believed Joanna was the one. It felt so right, for most of the relationship. I mean we had our share of conflict, but we always managed to resolve it. And the make-up sex? I think that’s half the reason we fought.”

Julian rolled his eyes.

“God, Julian, if she isn’t the one, who is?”

He offered a sympathetic shrug. “I guess you just haven’t met her yet.”

She stubbornly folded her arms and shrunk into the wrought iron chair. “Impossible. She has to be the one.”

Julian tore a piece from his whole wheat bagel with organic vegetable and goat cheese spread. “You have to start consuming something other than coffee,” he said as he nibbled. “I suggested this place because I know how you love their sun-dried tomato bagels.”

She grimaced. “I can’t even think about food. I just feel so… dismantled.”

“Yeah, I can tell. I’m getting worried about you. You really look…” he seemed to struggle for a sensitive word, “bad.”

She took a sip of her dark roast blend. “What should I do, insert a feeding tube? It’s been five weeks, and it’s only gotten worse. Whoever the fucker was that said time heals all wounds should be shot.”

He handed her a piece of his bagel. “Here, gnaw on this for a while.”

She took the bagel and held it between her fingers as her knees rocked their round table. “Do you know what my new favorite pass time is, Julian? I pick up my cell phone, key in her initial; look at her number and then press Send, just long enough to watch the little dots attempt the connection. Then I press End just before it goes through. This is what I do every day.”

“You want some of my Xanax?”

Courtney sighed and glanced around the coffee shop, listening to the plaintive cries in Elvis’ “Suspicious Minds” and shook her head. “Who picks the music in this joint?” she called out to no one.

“Maybe you should let the little dots connect tomorrow.”

“What would be the point of that? You think I didn’t already beg and plead before she left? There isn’t any new fight we can have about this. She wants to move on, so if meeting some old bag to shack up with will make her feel more secure about herself, then I say have at it.”

After devouring the rest of his bagel, Julian snatched the piece he’d given Courtney and popped it in his mouth. “So are we ready to head to the club?”

They got up, gathered their trash and hit the exit.

“Are you sure you’re feeling up to this?” Julian asked.

“Are you kidding, Jules? I’m on top of the fucking world.”

“This oughtta be a night to remember,” Julian muttered as they left.

* * *

Joanna hugged herself tightly in the February night air as she stood outside Tango and watched the door swing shut. What had possessed her to jump in a cab outside the midtown Marriott and ride all the way down to the Village just to freeze out on the sidewalk? She didn’t even know for sure if Courtney was in there, although it really wasn’t much of a gamble.

She entered the club, her feet stepping in slow motion, ready to hand Debra the cover charge.

“Oh… hi, Joanna,” Debra said, waving Joanna’s money away. “Nice to see you again.”

Joanna produced a smile and knew by Debra’s broadsided expression that the word was out. She milled through the crowd, unsure what to expect. Would she be stoned by an angry mob for dumping Her Royal Hotness, or would she be lauded for freeing her up for someone else? Like she cared. Edging just close enough to the main bar to see without being seen, she spotted Courtney serving customers beside Lucy. What am I doing here, she wondered when Courtney tossed her head back in laughter before a captive audience. She looked spectacularly sexy in a too-tight Tango shirt, a V cut to reveal a hint of cleavage, and clearly wasn’t all that broken up by the turn of events. The spectacle confirmed what Joanna had suspected about her all along.

Joanna had washed her hands of the club months ago and now the smell of sweat and cologne, the driving beat of house music vibrating her ear drums shot her into schizophrenia – the reason they’d met, the place that cracked and splintered them until nothing but little pieces remained.

The tremor in her hands spread to the rest of her. “This was a mistake,” she mumbled.

* * *

At the bar, as Lucy took a crisp twenty from a customer’s hand, she craned her neck to follow Joanna’s shape as it headed toward the entrance.

“Hey, Court,” Lucy said. “I could swear I just saw Joanna turn around and leave.”

Courtney was off like a shot, charging through the crowd, spraying “Sorries” over everyone she bumped and slammed on her trek to the door.

* * *

“Joanna.”

The voice in the frigid night air jerked Joanna’s Blahnik boots to a halt. How the hell did she… oh, never mind.

She stopped but didn’t turn around, listening to the thump of Courtney’s Timberlands trot toward her.

“What are you doing here?” Courtney asked with a semi-smile.

God, she’s beautiful. “I, uh, I don’t know, to be perfectly honest. I’m supposed to be asleep at the Marriott in the room next to my sister, niece, and great-nephew.”

“The Lion King,” Courtney said with a knowing smile. “How did Nicky like it?”

“He loved it. Chrissy and Nancy are probably still trying to get him to sleep.”

“Why did you leave so soon?” Courtney asked. She rubbed her bare arms to stave off hypothermia.

“Because.” Joanna grasped for words. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

“I’m not sure how to react either, but we don’t have to stand out here. I mean you’re welcome to come in.”

“I think I should just go.”

“Why?”

“Because I shouldn’t have come here in the first place.” Joanna withered at the pained look on Courtney’s face.

“But you did,” Courtney said.

“I know, but I can’t stay.” She started walking down the street toward the subway entrance.

“Jo, wait. You’re not going to take the subway this time of night,” Courtney shouted as she ran toward her.

“I’ll hail a cab.”

“There are no cabs around here. Let me zip you up Seventh. My car is in the lot right across the street.”

Joanna sighed, weakening from the lure of Courtney’s magnetism and sweet, pleading eyes. She tried to be tough. “I’ll call a cab from my cell. Will that make you feel better?”

“Let me drive you back to your hotel. That’ll make me feel better.” Courtney’s gaze was unnerving.

Joanna sighed, her eyes aimed at the sidewalk, and finally nodded.

“Let me get my coat and keys. Don’t disappear,” Courtney demanded as she jogged back to the bar.

The heat blasting in the car made Joanna’s cheeks flush, or was it Courtney? She loosened the seatbelt rubbing across her neck and then re-clasped her fingers in her lap.

“Mind if I put on the radio?” Courtney asked.

Joanna puzzled at her asking. Since when did Courtney ask to do anything? “Sure, that’s fine.”

Courtney pressed power and the CD came on. Toni Braxton’s “You Mean the World to Me,” their song, blared. She quickly fumbled for the FM button.

“There’s a nice, uncomfortable coincidence,” Joanna said.

“Or is it irony? I always get those two confused.”

They both laughed. “I’m not sure, but I wouldn’t want to be quizzed on it,” Joanna replied.

The release felt good. Joanna unclasped her fingers and wiggled the blood back into them. “So, how are you? Seeing anyone?” She cringed the moment it came out. Just her luck the light turned red.

Courtney’s head whipped toward her. “Seeing anyone? No, Joanna. No, I’m not seeing anyone. Are you?”

“No.” Joanna kept looking forward. She recognized that tone. It meant pissed with a capital pissed. But wait, why wasn’t Courtney veering the car to the curb so they could launch into another screaming match? Maybe she’d changed, evolved from the incendiary personality that kept things between them as volatile as they were passionate. Or maybe she just didn’t care anymore. So much for releasing the tension.

The next few blocks were even more excruciating as traffic crawled along. Joanna concentrated so hard on the tail lights of the cab ahead of them, her vision blurred.

“Why did you ask me that?” Courtney finally asked.

“Ask you what?” Joanna deflected, glancing out the passenger window.

“If I’m seeing anyone,” Courtney replied impatiently.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m just wondering if you’ve moved on.”

“Oh, I see. Can’t stand the guilt.” Courtney’s voice began overtaking the din of the radio, her knuckles whitening on the wheel. “Look, I don’t know what exactly you expect of me, but I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you. I haven’t moved on, okay? I’m still stuck here simmering in my own shit, so it’s really hard for me to offer you any absolution right now.”

“The reason I asked wasn’t to absolve any guilt,” Joanna said, managing a calm tone. “I asked because I still care about you.”

Courtney laughed and shook her head. “That’s brilliant, Jo.”

The passing streetlights flashed intermittently across Courtney’s profile. She was agitated. A twitching bottom lip signaled her fight to suppress her emotions. Joanna glanced out the window, away from the sting of her actions. What have I done? Knowing it was the right thing didn’t seem to matter at that moment.

Luckily, by that time, Courtney was pulling up to the hotel lobby entrance. She pressed the unlock button, but Joanna didn’t move.

In her folly, Joanna had assumed an overnight stay in the city with Nancy and the kids would boost her spirits. But arriving that afternoon had only sprung Courtney into the forefront of her mind. Throughout dinner, and the lavish musical, and later as they scoured the theatre district for a cappuccino, Courtney stalked Joanna’s consciousness. At Sardi’s, Joanna had preached to Nancy that she wouldn’t see Courtney until a reasonable period had passed, yet there she was, only hours later, seated next to her in the discomforting proximity of Courtney’s leather seats.

“Thanks for the ride, Court, and I’m sorry about this. A confrontation was not at all my intention.”

Courtney turned to her and managed a sincere smile. “Call me crazy, but it was good to see you again.”

“You, too.” Joanna was grateful for the self-restraint not to lean over and kiss her. She’d convinced Nancy at dinner the reason for not seeing Courtney was for Courtney’s benefit, but at that moment, the real story made itself known with a warm tingle between her legs.

* * *

An hour later, with make-up washed off and sleep shirt thrown on, Joanna was still unable to sleep. She curled her legs half inside the bed linens and popped bubbles from a wad of sugarless gum as she studied a Times crossword puzzle through narrow reading glasses. The knock on her door made her bobble the pen.

“Hi?” Joanna said it in the form of a question, peering over her reading glasses.

Courtney smiled. “Finish the puzzle yet?”

Joanna pulled off her glasses. “Almost.”

“I know I won’t be able to sleep either; that’s why I’m not even going to try.”

“I guess after four years, some things you don’t forget.”

“I haven’t been able to forget anything about you, not that I haven’t tried,” Courtney said quite casually as she breezed past Joanna into the room. “Wanna see if there’s an old Joan Crawford movie on?”

“It’s almost two-thirty.” The tantalizing wake of Courtney’s Calvin Klein Euphoria invigorated her.

“At least when the movie’s over it’ll be time for breakfast.”

Joanna studied her for a moment. “Court, do you really think this is a good idea?”

“I don’t want to go home, all right? Not in the dark, it’s hard being alone and awake in the dark. Besides, you’re the one who said you hoped we can be friends.”

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did.” Courtney snagged the remote and plopped herself down at the foot of the king-size bed. After surfing around, she settled on a rerun of “Magnum, P.I.”

Joanna resumed the crossword puzzle, reading the same clue over and over again. The sounds of Courtney clearing her throat, giggling at a Geico gecko commercial and just breathing were impossibly distracting. She watched the waves of Courtney’s light brown hair roll across the top of her T-shirt. Her eyes traced the curve of Courtney’s back down to the waistband of her low-rise jeans. The small of her back peeked out from her shirt as she stretched forward.

Joanna got up and poured herself a cup of iced water, forgetting that her sleep shirt covered only the top half of her thighs. Courtney’s eyes checking her out in her periphery reminded her.

“Can I have a sip of that?” Courtney asked, walking over to the dresser.

Joanna held up an index finger as she gulped the rest of the water. Her thirst seemed unquenchable. “Here, let me refill it.”

Courtney’s eyes seared into hers. When Joanna offered her the cup, Courtney’s warm hand caressed her fingers in the transfer. But the cup never made it to Courtney’s lips. Instead, her lips landed on Joanna’s in soft, sensual pecks. Joanna closed her eyes and let Courtney’s firm hands sneak up the outside of her thighs, catching the hem of her sleep shirt and dragging it slightly up. She took Courtney’s head in her hands and plunged her tongue into her mouth, savoring the velvety wetness. Courtney stroked the back of her thighs, caressed her ass.

The throbbing between her legs unsettled Joanna. Why was she reacting this way? After all, she wasn’t happy with Courtney anymore. She knew she needed to end the relationship, to reclaim her sanity. As Courtney slid her fingers under her sleep shirt and began tickling her back, Joanna desperately tried to remember a time when Courtney’s touch didn’t arouse her. Just one time when she’d pushed her hand away in indifference; one time that would prove there was nothing left between them.

As Courtney backed her toward the bed, Joanna kissed her roughly, bit her luscious bottom lip, gripped handfuls of her silky hair, furious she came into Joanna’s room and was doing this.

Joanna stopped her before they fell to the bed. “Court, you gotta leave,” she whispered. Her lips skimmed the baby fine hairs on Courtney’s cheek.

“I will,” she said, rolling her tongue behind Joanna’s ear. “Right after we make each other come. We both need it.” Courtney shoved Joanna down on the bed and slithered on top of her with an urgency and aggression that sent Joanna’s pulse racing.

She tried to stop Courtney’s hand as it inched up the inside of her thigh, but Courtney clutched her wrists, threw them down over her head and tongued the spot on her neck that always made her squirm. Joanna considered protesting as Courtney pulled her sleep shirt up and panties down, and then sat up and stripped herself naked. But when Courtney pressed her hot skin into Joanna’s and began grinding against her wetness, Joanna stopped kidding herself.

She skimmed her hand between Courtney’s legs and glided her fingers over her silkiness.

“I wanna fuck you, Joanna,” Courtney groaned as she thrust herself into Joanna’s hand.

Joanna wrapped her legs around one of Courtney’s thighs and they began grinding together slowly, sensually. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the pleasure of Courtney’s body on hers, her soft upper thigh rubbing her aching clit. Courtney held her tightly as she thrust harder and faster against her.

Joanna clawed Courtney’s back and gasped for air as the climax started in her toes and surged through her entire body. She felt Courtney coming, too, as they held each other and rocked in rhythm until they shrieked with explosive pleasure.

They kissed again and gazed into each other’s eyes, searching for words that didn’t exist. What was left but to fall asleep in each other’s arms?

* * *

The orgasm had been more intense than Joanna had ever remembered experiencing, so intense the thought of it was making her horny again. No, she had to get Courtney out of there before Nancy came knocking.

“Court,” she whispered, gently shaking Courtney’s shoulder. “You have to wake up now. I have to meet my sister and the kids in an hour.”

Startled, Courtney sprang up. “Huh?”

Wrapped in a robe, Joanna was antsy to hop in the shower. She ignored the flutter of her heart at the sight of Courtney, all adorable and sleepy and sheet wrinkled. “I’m sorry to shove you out like this, but you really need to go. Who wants to listen to Nancy over eggs Benedict?”

“So then, I guess I’ll have to just wait for you to show up outside Tango again,” Courtney snapped. She pulled her clothes on, still looking groggy.

Joanna sighed. A knock-down, drag-out was all she needed right now.

“Don’t worry. I’m not stupid enough to think last night meant anything,” Courtney added. “Of course, if I do happen to catch you darkening Tango’s doorstep again, I might have to start thinking otherwise… isn’t that right, Miss Being with You Feels Toxic?”

There was the Courtney she knew. Vindictive, childish, sarcastic. Joanna clenched her fists to keep from wrapping them around Courtney’s neck and throttling her as she whisked by her and out the door.

Joanna let the hot shower stream bead down on her face, hoping the colored dots on the inside of her eyelids would blot out the images of last night and their last fight, which Courtney was kind enough to resurrect with her toxic comment moments earlier.

That night in late December, the tension had boiled over in their bedroom as they rolled down the comforter and tossed the pillow shams on the built-in window seat.

“Jo, I just don’t get why it keeps coming down to the bar,” Courtney said, rolling her eyes in frustration. “You knew I ran nightclubs right from the day we met. It’s why I used your catering service.”

“I don’t need a refresher course on four-year-old history, Court,” Joanna said. “And you know damn well why this keeps coming up. It’s the lifestyle that goes along with running the bars. You said three years ago when we moved in you were going to scale back your involvement. You didn’t want to drive from Westport to the Village every weekend and since the clubs were doing a steady business, you were thinking about hiring managers to handle the day-to-day details.”

Courtney sat on the edge of the bed, silent.

“Isn’t that what you said?” Joanna pressed.

“I’ve already told you I’m not ready to hand over the reins yet. Dawn is a little too much of a silent partner for me to back out totally.”

“I never said back out totally. You’re at Tango at least three weekends a month and when you’re not, you’re jetting off to South Beach. I’m tired of being alone all the time.”

“You know you can come with me whenever you want. I love having you with me.”

“My catering business is me and two other people. I can’t drop everything and cling to your arm while you schmooze it up and down the eastern seaboard. Honestly, sometimes I feel like I’m dating a teenager the way you always have to be right in thick of every party.”

Courtney clenched her teeth. Age digs cut twice as deep, and Joanna knew it. “Okay, now we’re getting at the truth. It isn’t that I run nightclubs, is it? It’s that you think I’m too immature for you and those snobby Greenwich friends of yours. It all makes sense why you hardly ever bring me when you hang out with them. I obviously embarrass you.”

“Courtney, come on. You’re drifting way out to sea here. I’m home more than I’m anywhere else. Besides, I earn my livelihood on the Greenwich party circuit, I don’t live it. I’m long past my nightclub days, and I want a partner who is too; I don’t care what age she is.”

Courtney shot up from the bed. “You have one hell of a nerve calling me immature, Joanna, when this is such petty shit. You’re grasping.”

“I don’t need to justify how I feel, Courtney. And you shouldn’t expect me to.”

“What is so goddamn bad about Tango? Some people might be impressed by the fact I’m thirty-one and own two thriving nightclubs.”

“I don’t mean to downplay your accomplishment, but I’ve had my fill with Tango and those women throwing themselves at you knowing I’m standing ten feet away or at least somewhere in the vicinity. It’s demeaning to me. That whole scene is shallow and frankly, sometimes so is the way you respond to it.”

Joanna could see she’d dug even deeper this time.

“Is that what you think of me?” Courtney walked over to the window, shaking her head.

“Courtney, you love the attention; it’s clear that you do. But I don’t particularly feel like sitting around at home while you’re out test-driving newer models.”

“Newer models? What are you saying, I’m out cheating on you? That’s total bullshit, and I can’t believe that’s what you’re thinking when we’re not together.”

“It’s not bullshit. It’s a very legitimate concern given your vocation. Look, this just isn’t working for me anymore.”

“Fuck you, Joanna, just fuck you.” Courtney was about to bolt from the bedroom.

“Court, wait.” Joanna tugged her arm. “Can we talk about this for once without you storming out and telling me to fuck myself?”

“You don’t get it, do you? I love you. I don’t want anyone else, not at Tango, not in South Beach. I just want you.”

Joanna leaned against the doorframe trying to manage the brain-numbing conflation of emotions. “What about the restaurant? Were you even remotely serious any of those times we talked about it?”

“Of course I was. You think I was just blowing smoke up your ass?”

Joanna’s shrug probably hurt more than an insult. “For the record,” Courtney said, “I think it’s a great idea, but I’m just not ready to go there yet.”

Joanna scoffed. “That’s the whole problem with this relationship, Courtney. How long do I have to wait for you to meet me halfway? I feel like I’m suffocating. I need to move on with my life. I need to be with someone who shares my values, who wants to be part of my dreams, who doesn’t expect me to just follow her around while she chases hers. I feel like I’m losing who I am in this. I’m sorry, but being with you has started to feel toxic, and I just need to get out.”

Courtney stood at the foot of the bed and stared for a moment as if she didn’t even recognize Joanna. “All right, I’ll sell the goddamn clubs. Is that what you want?” she screamed. “I’ll sell out to Dawn and do any fucking thing you want, Joanna. Is that what it’ll take to make you happy? ‘Cause I’ll do it, I’ll do it because that’s how much I love you.” Courtney swept a picture frame from the dresser and whipped it at the wall, leaving a large gash in the paint through to the sheetrock.

Joanna recoiled at the crash and the crazed look on Courtney’s face. “I’m going to my sister’s.”

Her tears mixed with the shampoo and hot water pouring down her face. She hated their fiery battles as much as she loved their fiery love-making. How could someone who made her body feel so good make her heart feel so miserable? She despised making Courtney cry as much as she did when Courtney reciprocated. Thank God those days were over. As surreal as it had been without her since she’d moved out, things were finally calm again. She could gather her thoughts, clear her head and get on with it. Making love with Courtney last night was a major misstep, and as she turned off the faucet and hugged the plush hotel towel, she realized even a small dose of that drug could lead her right back into the rage of addiction.

Part Two

Joanna sat at the granite breakfast counter in a swivel chair and pressed a thumb into a ball of pasta dough Nancy placed in front of her. She gazed into the sunken family room at Nancy’s husband, Sam, asleep in front of the television as the Uconn men battled to survive the Sweet Sixteen.

“Does Sam have a gut?” she asked in whisper.

Nancy nodded. “Holiday glut. He gained twelve pounds this season, and if you noticed, that elliptical machine I bought him for Christmas hasn’t been touched.”

“I envy you,” Joanna said as she absently rolled a fork over a gnocchi ball.

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“Not at all. I mean look at everything you have. I’m at the stage in life when I hoped I’d have this, too. Stability, comfort, napping in front of the TV on a Sunday afternoon.”

“You know what envy is?” Nancy countered. “You and Courtney in the hot tub at that Stowe ski lodge last year. That’s envy. I swear if I had to hear one more of your steamy sex stories, I was going to beat you over the head with a blunt instrument.”

Joanna laughed. “Seems like when it comes to the perfect relationship, you and I split the difference.”

A cough echoed from the family room. “Need any help, babe?” Sam asked, still half asleep.

“We got it under control, darling,” Nancy called back, smiling at Joanna. “You can parade a dozen sexy, shirtless firemen in front of me, and I’ll always choose Sam,” she said lovingly. “Well, ninety percent of the time.”

They shared a conspiratorial laugh.

“Considering the proximity of that rolling pin to your hand and my cranium, I probably shouldn’t tell you what happened the night we saw ‘The Lion King’.” Joanna wiped flour off her fingers and braced for the reaction.

Nancy glared at her. “You didn’t. You slept with Courtney?” she accused in hardly a discreet whisper.

Joanna rolled her eyes. “How do you know these things all the time?”

“Because you’re so damn predictable. Does this mean you’re back together?”

“No. No, we both realized it was a mistake the next morning and that’s that.”

“That was over two weeks ago, and you’re just telling me now?”

“Needless to say, I’m somewhat chagrined about it, and I hate it when you give me that I can’t believe you did something so stupid look when I’m already painfully aware of it.”

Nancy wiped her hands on a checkered dish towel and pulled out the chair next to Joanna. “I’m not looking at you that way, hon. If you want to know the truth, I’m not at all convinced this breakup’s gonna stick.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Jo, you’ve been here something like two months. Have you decided what to do about the house? Have you even started looking for a place? No. You stay at work ‘til all hours and, when you aren’t working, you mope around here and follow me like the cats when I open a can of tuna.”

“Are you saying you want me to leave? Does Sam want me out?”

“You can stay as long as you want. We have plenty of room. But hanging around here isn’t you, dear sister. You’re a woman of action who loves her own space, which makes me think you don’t really want to move on without Courtney.”

“Well, thank you, Dr. Bombay, for that intriguing analysis, but you’re reading way too much into this. Yes, I may still be in the mourning phase, but I’m surprisingly comfortable being without her. In fact, I feel quite pneumatic, like an enormous emotional burden’s been lifted.”

“If you’re so comfortable without her, why are you two still having sex?”

“We’re not having sex,” Joanna shouted.

“Who aren’t you having sex with?” Sam called out from his recliner.

“Go back to sleep,” Joanna snapped, and then returned to Nancy. “I’m not getting back together with her. It was… closure, that’s all.”

Nancy smirked at the rationale. “Look, I know the reasons why you left, and I understand you feeling that way, but trying to talk yourself out of loving her because it’s more convenient or less complicated isn’t gonna work. You’re still mad about her. I can see it all over you.”

Joanna leaned back in the chair and shot Nancy a defiant look. “Okay, let’s suppose for a second you’re right. Big deal. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter if I’m still in love with her right now. What matters is that in time I will get over her.”

Nancy didn’t look up as she sprinkled the gnocchi with flour. “Sure about that? Because I remember when you and Martha split.” She shifted her weight and looked Joanna in the eye. “Now that was a burden lifted. Yeah, you were down for a while, but there was always forward motion. And that was ten years together. But this girl? Her essence is completely imbedded in you. You’re not ready to let her go.”

Joanna felt her face get hot. “You know what I think? I think I’ve had enough of your domestic bliss for today,” she snarled. “I’m going upstairs to read.” She wasn’t sure what pissed her off more, Nancy’s presumption that she knew Joanna so well or the possibility that she might be right.

* * *

Another week and Courtney was still waiting for the pain to subside, to feel something that resembled her former self. Joanna had been gone for almost three months and getting back on track was a more daunting task than any business venture she’d pursued. She sat at her desk in their home office, preparing tax paperwork for both clubs. She clicked the print icon and gazed out the window at the grayness. She thought about taking a jog through Cranbury Park, but she knew she couldn’t outrun the shadow of Joanna that would trail her. Was she the only one in Westport whose life had imploded when a lover changed the rules halfway through the game? She picked up the phone and dialed Joanna’s cell as the printer hummed. This time she didn’t hang up.

“Hello, you’ve reached Joanna Hilliard Catering. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you soon. Thanks.”

Now she hung up. Joanna had a lot of nerve sounding so normal. Although Courtney knew Joanna had recorded that greeting months before, she couldn’t help resenting her for getting on with her life.

As the last document landed in the printer tray, Courtney heard the doorbell ring. She’s back, slammed into her brain. She stumbled off the leather office chair, flew down the staircase, and flung open the front door.

“Jade.”

“Hey, baby. We’re getting worried about you at Tango.”

“How did you find out where I live?”

“It’s the technology age. You can find out how often the President farts if you really want to know. Are you going to invite me in?”

“Sure,” Courtney said and reluctantly stepped aside.

As Jade walked into the living room, Courtney admired her shapely, compact ass sway with each step. Hey, she was despondent, not dead.

“Wicked place you got here,” Jade said.

“Thanks. Have a seat.”

Jade dropped down on the fluffy cream sofa, taking in the Madame Monet and Her Son print Joanna had left on the wall. “How are you holding up?”

“Aces,” Courtney mocked with two thumbs up. She slowly lowered herself onto the arm of the loveseat. “Did Lucy send you on this mission of mercy?”

“Nobody knows I’m here. You’ve missed three consecutive Saturdays, plus the “L-Word” parties, and considering the state you were in last time we talked, I just wanted to see that you’re all right.”

Courtney smiled. An expression of concern not laced with sexual innuendo. Did something leak into the tri-state area’s water supply? Why was everyone she knew suddenly acting like someone she didn’t?

“Relax, Court. I’m not going to jump your bones the minute your back is turned.” Jade smiled. “Unless you beg me to.”

Courtney slid down onto the loveseat cushions. “Shit, Jade. I just needed a break from the scene, you know? I see Julian occasionally when I need someone to talk me down.”

“Oh, him. I’m kind of hurt though that you never took me up on my offer of dinner and a movie. I had a nasty breakup in college, and the only way I got through it was with lots of diversions. You need to get out of your own head for a while.”

“I know that, but my head keeps sucking me back in. I have this knot in my stomach, and my sleeping is for shit.”

“Have you tried yoga or meditating?” Jade asked, absently twirling one of her curls.

Courtney laughed and shook her head. “That New Age crap isn’t for me.”

“You should give it a try. It really works. For instance, I can show you these pressure points that’ll relieve some of your symptoms.”

Courtney gave her a skeptical look.

“No, it’s true,” Jade said. She got up and sat next to Courtney. “Here, give me your wrist.” She grabbed Courtney’s wrist without waiting to be handed one. “There’s a pressure point about an inch or so below your palm. If you squeeze it, you’ll feel that knot in your stomach relax.” She pressed her thumb into Courtney’s wrist. “Feel it?”

Son of a bitch, it was true. “Yeah, I kind of do feel it.”

Jade was pleased. “Just give it a try whenever it’s really bothering you. How about a stiff neck? Ever experience that from tension?”

“All the time.”

“Well, there are two points at the base of your skull that’ll fix that. They’re a couple of inches apart. Here, turn around.”

What the hell—the wrist thing worked.

“They’re right around here.” Jade pressed her thumbs into the muscles on Courtney’s neck and held them for a moment. She began rubbing gently.

Courtney closed her eyes as the tension eased away under Jade’s touch. “Looks like I won’t be trashing New Age anymore. This really feels good.” She felt herself relaxing, falling against Jade’s hands.

“You know, you don’t always have to be in control of everything,” Jade said and began massaging Courtney’s shoulders.

“Who says I’m like that?”

“Oh, please, if you’re not the epitome of high-strung Type-A personalities, I don’t know who is. You should try letting someone else take the reins once in a while.”

“You obviously know nothing about me,” Courtney joked, but Jade’s small hands were strong and effective. Her muscles hadn’t felt this relaxed in weeks.

Jade kept working Courtney’s left shoulder, but with her right hand, she gently turned Courtney’s chin toward her. She leaned in and kissed Courtney on the corner of her mouth.

Jade’s lips smelled like watermelon. Courtney let their softness graze across her own lips, enjoying the warmth from Jade’s face radiating to hers. Jade stopped rubbing her shoulder and focused on kissing her. She took Courtney’s cheeks in her hot hands and kissed her more firmly, tickled her lips with her tongue.

Courtney’s instinct screamed push her away, but the unfortunate truth was Jade was incredibly sexy. She craved this type of connection again. She craved Joanna, but...

Jade eased her back against the cushiony armrest and got on top. Her warm, taut yoga body molded itself into Courtney’s. Courtney couldn’t resist running her hands up the side of Jade’s smooth torso as Jade kissed her, open-mouthed and fervently. She tingled with arousal as Jade ground against her and whimpered with pleasure. She reached up the back of Jade’s shirt and snapped open her bra.

“I want you so bad, Courtney. I want to make love to you right now,” Jade breathed. She rolled up Courtney’s shirt and began undoing her belt buckle as she kissed Courtney’s stomach.

Jade’s words and the fumbling at her pants jolted Courtney back to reality. Make love? Joanna’s fingers, her French-manicured nails digging into her back, the citrus scent and sweet taste of her skin flooded Courtney’s senses.

“I can’t, Jade,” she said in a whisper. She took hold of Jade’s hands, which had already started making their way into Courtney’s pants.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this.”

“Why the hell not?” Jade asked, her breath escaping in staccato puffs.

“It’s not fair to you, for one thing.” Courtney tried to nudge Jade off of her, but the little firecracker wouldn’t budge.

“Don’t worry about me, babe. I know you’re still hung up on Joanna. I want to fuck you, not marry you.” She dove onto Courtney’s mouth again, but Courtney pushed her back.

“This is just gonna complicate things.” Courtney exerted a little more effort and easily extricated herself from Jade.

Jade flopped against the other armrest and wiped strands of hair off her sweaty forehead. She sighed. “You need this, Courtney. You’ve got nothing to lose. And it won’t complicate anything between us since I don’t expect anything from you.”

That’s the problem, Courtney thought. “I wasn’t talking about us, Jade. Doesn’t the fact that I’m still in love with someone else make you hesitate for even a second?”

Jade’s expression morphed from vexed to vulnerable. She sat playing with her fingernails for a moment. “All right, you wanna know the truth?” She jumped up and began pacing in front of the coffee table. “I want you for more than just sex. I like you, okay? I have for months. Every time I’d watch you and Joanna together at Tango, I’d fantasize about all the possible reasons why you could break up. I wished for it. Shit, I’m not proud of that but that’s the way it is. I just want my chance with you. And I figured if I played it cool, like there weren’t any feelings...” She stopped and sighed. “I don’t know.”

Courtney smiled and shook her head. Jade with a weakness: epic mind-blower. “I get it, Jade, but I still wish you hadn’t come here.”

“Okay, maybe throwing myself at you wasn’t the smartest way to convey my sincerity.”

“It’s not that. You just threw in my face what I’ve been trying to deny all along.”

“Which is?”

“I’m still completely in love with Joanna. God, I miss her so much.” Courtney’s voice broke up before she could stop it. The sobs came fast and uncontrollable, and she buried her face in her hands. What the fuck? She hadn’t even lost it with her best friend; now she was having a three-alarm meltdown in front of Jade?

Jade sat next to her and threw her arm around Courtney’s shoulder. They sat together while Courtney cried.

“I’m sorry I came on to you,” Jade said after a few minutes. “I had no idea trying to open your pants would open Pandora’s Box.”

Courtney laughed through her sobs.

* * *

Later, Courtney walked in from one of the pointless drives she’d gotten into the habit of taking. This one brought her to an Xtra-Mart to refill her Acura and the supply of powdered doughnuts and Vitamin Water she’d sustained herself with in recent weeks. She dropped the bag and rushed over to the ringing telephone.

“Why do you keep calling and not leaving a message?” Joanna’s voice was even.

Fucking Missed Call feature on cell phones. “Quite frankly, I thought I was hanging up before the call registered,” Courtney replied, matching Joanna’s evenness. She could tell Joanna tried not to laugh, but a barely audible titter still escaped.

“Well, what did you want?”

“You know all your tax files are still on the computer?”

“Yeah, I was going to ask you to email them to me.”

“Why haven’t you?”

Silence. “After that night at the Marriott, I thought we definitely needed some distance.”

“I think we’ve already established that, don’t you? Besides, what did you think would happen, we’d get into some hot and heavy email sex?” Courtney clenched her fists the minute it came out. Joanna was being civil, and it took all of sixty seconds for her to go bitchy.

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Joanna replied with some attitude of her own.

The tension was unbearable.

“Do you miss me at all?” Courtney blurted. Shit. Did she not have any control over what spewed out of her mouth anymore?

Silence again, longer this time. “I do,” Joanna croaked and then cleared her throat. “I do.”

My God, Courtney thought, now what do I say? Had Joanna just given her an opportunity? “Uh, wow. Well, I guess I don’t have to tell you I miss you, too.”

“Would you mind emailing me those files when you have a chance? We’re gonna have to talk about the house, too, at some point.”

Fuck her. “You can buy me out. I’ve been looking at places in the city anyway.” Let Joanna sit and stew in this haunted house like she’d been doing for the last stretch of damnation. Her chest felt heavy as she glanced around the kitchen, remembering the array of luscious smells of primavera, Alfredo or whatever tweaked recipe Joanna was testing.

“Maybe we should just sell,” Joanna said.

The words catapulted Courtney back to the distasteful present. “Whatever,” she replied. “Call me when you’ve made up your mind.” She hung up without saying good-bye. And the next gash put into the wall matched the shape of the cordless phone.

* * *

“Thanks for playing mediator for me.” Joanna smiled as she fingered her cup of green tea at Nancy’s counter.

“I’m not playing mediator, Jo,” Nancy replied. “I really don’t want to be here when you talk about this with Courtney. It’s very uncomfortable.” She poured herself a glass of Chardonnay and drank it too fast.

“You think?” Joanna countered.

“And would you turn off that friggin’ song,” Nancy griped, pointing to the portable CD player spouting Andy Williams’ “Lonely Street.”

“What have you got against Andy Williams? Mom loved him.”

“I don’t have anything against him, but you’re playing that same depressing song over and over again. Are you planning to kill yourself or something?”

Joanna got up and shut off the song. “You don’t have to be in the room. I just want to know that you’re around. In case… well, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. Look, I just want to state for the record that I’m profoundly conflicted about enabling you like this,” Nancy said and took another large sip of her wine.

“Exactly what do you think you’re enabling?”

“This ridiculous act of martyrdom. It’s been three months and you aren’t anywhere near getting over her.”

“Oh, really? Is that why I’m having her over to talk about selling the house? This is it, Nance. It doesn’t get any more over than that.”

“If you’re over her, then you’ll meet Marcia Landino for coffee.”

“Who?”

“Marcia Landino. I told you about her last month. She’s in my scrapbooking class. She’d like to have coffee with you.”

“I’m not having coffee with someone from your scrapbooking class.”

“Why not? She’s a charming woman, Jo. I think she’s around my age, maybe a couple of years older. Her partner died about three years ago and she’d like to meet new people.”

“So how did I come up?” Joanna sat down and finished her tea.

“I showed her your photo, and she said you were exquisite.”

Joanna smirked and shook her head. Nancy tore off a sticky note from a multi-color block by the phone and began scribbling.

“Here, at least give her a call. I’m telling you, she’s really nice.” Nancy slapped the note on the counter next to Joanna.

The doorbell startled Marcia Landino from her mind.

* * *

“So whose lawyer do you want to use?” Joanna asked after the long moment of uncomfortable silence. Courtney had slipped into a deep brooding when Joanna had presented her with the list of debt and joint financial holdings they still hadn’t sorted out.

“Just use yours and send me my half of the bill. I trust you,” Courtney said as she pushed herself away from the kitchen table. She walked over to the refrigerator to peruse the display of Disney characters Nancy’s grandson had colored for her.

Joanna downed a couple of aspirin while Courtney was occupied. Watching Courtney’s eyes water intermittently throughout the last hour’s discussion killed her. Her head pounded and she wanted to run upstairs and shut the door on everyone and everything.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Courtney muttered, still facing the refrigerator.

Joanna approached her with caution. “I’m sorry, Court. But we’ll both be better off in the long run. You’ll meet someone younger, someone who shares your enthusiasm and interests.”

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Court, will you look at me?”

Courtney turned around, and her eyes were pooled with tears. God, why was this so hard? Joanna thought. “You will meet someone some day,” she said and hated how it sounded.

She’d planned to buffer the finality for Courtney with a pep talk about how wonderful she was and how easy it would be for her to find someone new, but suddenly and inexplicably, the vision of Courtney naked and intertwined with another woman turned Joanna queasy and selfish.

“You’re so beautiful,” Courtney said and surprised her with a gentle kiss. She threw her arms around Joanna’s neck and kissed her hard, devouring her lips, backing her up against the breakfast counter.

Joanna’s lower back met with the firm edge of the granite, but the ache was effaced by Courtney’s swirling tongue and fingers flitting through the back of her hair. She thought about Nancy in the other room and cursed her sister’s cowardice.

Joanna managed to wrench her lips free. “Courtney, stop. This is only making it harder.” Joanna pried Courtney’s arms from around her neck, but mornings at the gym had sculpted her into a formidable opponent.

“You know what harder is, Jo? It’s every night I go to bed without you. It’s every minute I’m wondering what you’re doing; where you are; who you’re with. I can’t focus on anything but you.” Courtney spotted the note on the counter and snatched it. “Marcia Landino, 479-8666. Call her, Jo. Who the fuck is Marcia Landino?”

“Nobody, it’s nothing.” Nancy, I wish you’d get the fuck in here.

“You’re dating already? Wait a minute, is this why you left? And you had the balls to accuse me…”

“No, no, she’s just someone Nancy knows.”

“So are you seeing her or not?” Courtney seethed.

“No, Nancy just gave me her number.”

“Nice,” Courtney said. She slammed the note down on the counter with her fist. “Thanks a lot, Nancy,” she shouted.

“Courtney, calm down,” Joanna said. She recognized that look and feared one of Nancy’s belongings was moments away from getting implanted into the wall.

Courtney shoved the stool out of her way, knocking it to the pristine hardwood floor. She stormed past Joanna and Nancy, who’d just appeared in the door way.

When the front door banged shut, they both exhaled.

“A wrinkle in the negotiations?” Nancy asked with a timid grin.

“Your Marcia Landino note,” Joanna replied. She shook her head in disgust. “I’m going to work. Don’t wait dinner on me.”

“Jo, I’m really sorry.”

Joanna ignored her sister’s earnest apology. She draped her jacket across her shoulders and hurried out to the front porch. Jingling her car keys, she glanced around hoping Courtney’s Acura was still parked in the driveway. Instead, a set of brake lights glowed at a stop sign in the distant dusk. Exactly how many months was this supposed to take?

* * *

At the Landmark diner, Courtney watched in envy as a guy in a Rutgers cap in the booth across from her crammed a forkful of blueberry pancakes in his mouth. He chased it with a bendy strip of greasy bacon. Breakfast at nine o’clock at night. Sounds good. Joanna would’ve crinkled her nose and said, “Really?” But Courtney wasn’t waiting for Joanna. She scanned the menu and decided on the turkey club on whole wheat, salad instead of fries. Her appetite was coming back. She was running again, too, had even showed up at a couple of yoga classes. It was early May and new life was springing up everywhere, especially in the courtyard garden of her Greenwich apartment complex. On second thought, get the fries.

“Look who I found cruising the parking lot,” Jade joked as she made her way to the booth with Julian.

“Yeah, and I would’ve caught one too, if she hadn’t scared him off,” Julian replied.

Courtney stood up and hugged her friends, flashing them a broad smile. “Ted pulling another double at the hospital?” she asked Julian.

“Isn’t he always? You look great, Court,” he said. “Better than the last time I saw you.” He rolled his eyes.

“I feel better,” Courtney began with reserved optimism. “I know I kind of blew you guys off, but I really needed to be alone. When it hits the fan, I need space to think things through.”

“We know,” they replied in unison.

After the waitress took their order, Courtney seized the opportunity to steer the focus away from herself. “So, what’s new with you guys?”

“Well, I’ve met someone,” Jade said with a coy grin. “Her name is Angie Lopez and we met at work, if you can believe it.”

“The Grand Dame of Tango meets someone at work?” Courtney joked.

“Yeah, it gets even wackier. I haven’t been to Tango in over a month. It just wasn’t the same without you, Court.”

“You hear that?” Julian said. “The loyalists are demanding the return of their queen.”

“As of Monday, I won’t be anyone’s queen anymore,” Courtney replied. She fingered the fork and knife rolled in a napkin.

“What?” Julian’s mouth dropped open.

“What do you mean?” Jade asked.

“I’m selling out my half of Tango to Dawn. I’m still keeping half of Calypso, but Dawn can run that one. She lives right there in South Beach.”

“I can’t believe it,” Jade said.

“Yeah,” said Julian. “What did Joanna say about all this?”

Courtney shot him a quizzical look. “I haven’t told Joanna. We’re not together anymore, remember?”

“But I thought that’s what this whole thing was about,” Julian said.

“It was a major part of it, but if she and I were truly meant for each other, something like that wouldn’t stand in the way. She did what she needed to, and now so am I. I’m doing this for me because I’m finally ready to move on.”

Julian and Jade’s proud smiles didn’t temper the bitterness that came with the acknowledgment.

“What are you gonna do?” Jade asked.

“I’m thinking about a bistro. It’s time for another challenge, something to get my blood pumping again.”

“Court, don’t you think you should mention this to Joanna?” Julian persisted.

“Julian, she’s going to find out eventually. I’m opening it in Darien.”

“You mean you have the place?” he asked.

Courtney rolled her eyes. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I was going to invite everyone to the grand opening and throw this lavish affair, but now you’ve ruined it.”

“I’ll take lavish, surprise or not,” Jade offered. “That’s so cool, Court.”

“For some reason I would think you should be happier about this,” Julian observed.

“Look, I said I was ready to move on. I’m going to have to get back to you on the being happy about it part. It wasn’t exactly in the plan to do it alone.”

“I know a great caterer you can hire for the opening,” Julian said.

“Jules, it’s a restaurant. We make food; therefore, the caterer is sort of redundant.”

“Now that depends on the caterer,” Jade added with a nod.

Courtney glared at her. “By the way, weren’t you supposed to be waiting for Joanna and me to split? I see you didn’t waste any time finding someone else.”

“I’m not blind, Court. I know the real thing when I see it.”

Courtney frowned. “You need an eye exam.” She caught Julian and Jade exchanging glances. Wallowing was never her style. “So anyway,” she said with a bright smile, “welcome to the latest chapter of my life.”

Julian raised his water glass. “Here’s to Courtney’s latest chapter. And may there be a nice, juicy plot twist.”

Courtney pondered that one as they all clinked their glasses.

* * *

Joanna decided to clock some “research” time with the Food Network. She reclined in Sam’s broken-in La-Z-Boy and observed the Barefoot Contessa prepare stuffed artichoke hors d’eourves for an intimate gathering of friends in the Hamptons. All the while, though, her mind replayed the thud of solitary footsteps along the dirt path during her morning jog in Cranbury Park.

“We’ve decided to convert the garage into an in-law apartment,” Sam barked. His arms were folded expectantly over his belly.

“Done with your elliptical workout already?” Joanna teased.

“Don’t you have some place to be?” he replied.

She slowly lifted herself up. “This is a comfortable chair, Sam, especially the section your ass caved in.”

“Yo, Nance,” he called out. “You told me to inform you when Joanna’s presence was starting to piss me off. Consider yourself informed.”

“Joanna, stop picking on my husband,” Nancy replied from the hall.

Joanna shot him a menacing glare. “You’re lucky your wife’s home.”

“Now she’s threatening me,” he shouted, nodding at Joanna with an imperious smile.

“Jo, come out here and look at this new chintz valance,” Nancy requested from the living room.

When Joanna saw Nancy pulling the silky valance from its package, she made a face. “Good luck trying to position that over the rod.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s gonna slide off right onto the floor. I know because Courtney and I easily made a dozen failed attempts before we finally stuffed ours back in the package and hauled it back to Neiman Marcus.”

“Let’s just give it a try before you dump all over my idea.” Nancy took down the rod over her bay window as Joanna assisted at the other end. “We’re meeting the Kirschners for Japanese tonight in the city. Wanna come?”

“No, thanks. I have plans,” Joanna replied.

“With who?”

“No one.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Really?” Joanna asked. “You’re just gonna accept that answer?”

“Of course not. Who with? Did you finally call Marcia?”

“No, but I will hitch a ride with you into the city.”

Nancy lowered her half of the rod. “You’re going to Courtney’s club again, aren’t you?”

Joanna shook her head. “I’m going to visit Crystal and Roz. You remember them from our Halloween parties.”

“Yeah, don’t they live in the Village?”

“So?”

“Where Courtney’s club is?”

“So what?”

Nancy smirked. “You may have come out of the closet in the eighties, but you still do denial better than anyone I know.”

“You’re out of your mind,” Joanna said. She held up her end of the valance to determine which side was the front.

“Me? You’re the one going to visit friends you haven’t seen in a year because they live near Courtney’s nightclub. That’s so Freudian.”

“I’m going to visit friends I haven’t seen in a year because I haven’t seen them in a year. You don’t need to tie all this intrigue into it.”

“Jo, it’s been four months. When are you going to face reality? Sure, you may not be in a tizzy fighting with Courtney all the time, but you’re not any happier. What exactly did leaving her solve?”

“For one thing, I’m not getting tension headaches anymore,” Joanna snapped.

“If it were me, I’d take Extra-strength Tylenol rather than walking out on someone I really care about. But then, this is classic you.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Come on, Jo. Ever since you were a kid, everything had to be done to the extreme. If you wanted to light a cigarette, you’d set the house on fire and then later say, ‘Gee, I could’ve struck a match, huh?’ You always do this.”

Joanna could feel her ears burn. “Okay, first of all, I smoked for about ten minutes in high school. Secondly, what do you know about what I feel and experience? You were born with this laid back, ‘who gives a crap’ gene, which I have no idea where that came from. So don’t you stand there with your chintz window accents and your perfect life and perfect family and judge me.”

“You really think I have a perfect family?” Nancy beamed with pride. “Because you know I could’ve killed Sam, Jr. when he called to tell me he went base jumping in Peru while he was on that archeological dig with the university…”

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” Joanna said. She gazed out the bay window at the lush green lawn, the vibrant tulips lining both sides of the brick walkway.

“Jo, you know I’m not saying this to hurt you. We sling honesty at each other. It’s just what we do. Besides, you’re still my kid sister, and I worry about you.”

“Nance, I can take care of myself.”

“I know that, but I think the walls you’ve built to protect yourself are closing in on you. Yeah, you had a lot of ups and downs with Courtney, more than with anyone else as I recall, but I loved you with her. You were radiant and spirited. You egged each other on in a good way.”

“She made me feel like a jealous, controlling fool,” Joanna countered.

“She made you? I don’t know, Jo. I saw a woman with energy and drive to take on the world. In the time you were together, your business flourished, you lost twenty pounds running with her, and you laughed all the time… until you starting expecting, well, whatever it is you’re expecting.”

Joanna rubbed the silky fabric between her fingers.

“Do you even know what you’re looking for?” Nancy asked. “Another Martha? Another ten years of indifference because it was easier?”

“I’m not looking for easy. I just want balance. I want to be in a place where my emotions aren’t spiking off the chart all the time. You say I always go to the extreme, but that’s why it didn’t work with Courtney. I hated how much I love her.”

The room fell silent. They looked at each other, still clutching their ends of the chintz. Joanna gulped air as Nancy’s smile affirmed the realization.

“So we finally get to the bottom of it,” Nancy said warmly.

Joanna plunked down in an antique wing back chair. “Oh my God, I’m one of those pathetic, emotionally retarded women afraid of her own feelings. When did this happen?”

“My guess is the moment you realized you were truly in love.”

“That wasn’t the answer I was looking for.”

Nancy laughed and Joanna turned to the window to let the early afternoon sun warm her face.

“Are you giving up on this valance because it’s too difficult?” Nancy asked.

Joanna smiled and patted Nancy’s cheek. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

* * *

Courtney stared absently at the dust and debris she’d swept into a pile in the empty square footage of her newest commercial lease. Her first solo accomplishment. This time next month, she’d be open and ready for the summer rush of weekenders, shoppers, and the New York Times’ food critic who could make or break her riskiest venture.

She leaned against the glass display case left by the previous owner, a French baker whose legacy was the intoxicating scent of baked dough probably ingrained in the woodwork. Tomorrow the contractors would arrive to tear down the back wall and start the project of modernizing the kitchen to suit the tastes of the persnickety chef of a Nuevo Italian bistro.

She bent over to sweep the rubble into a dust pan. When she rose, Joanna was standing in front of her. Her hand went limp, and the contents spilled to the floor, erupting into a mushroom cloud.

“Any chance I’m on the guest list for the grand opening?” Joanna said. After whirling around the room, her eyes landed on Courtney’s.

“Uh, sure,” Courtney replied. “But you know you don’t need an invitation.”

“Actually, judging by our last conversation, I was certain I’d earned a lifetime ban from all Courtney Wade properties.”

Courtney smiled at Joanna’s keen perception of the former her. “Well, six months ago, you would’ve been right.”

Joanna glanced around the empty space, and Courtney knew Joanna’s creative mind was envisioning the possibilities. Courtney may have the business instincts of Donald Trump, but her talent as a decorator was on par with the Donald’s style in hairdos.

“So who dropped the quarter on me about this, Jade or Julian?”

Joanna swung around and faced her. “Neither. For some strange reason I found myself at Tango again last Saturday night. Your merry serving wench, Lucy, was only too eager to spill the beans.”

“She’s going right to the top of my list of people who need a slap.”

Joanna shoved her hands in her pants pockets, her usual move in awkward situations. “This place is going to be amazing, Court.”

The compliment sailed over Courtney’s head. “What were you doing at Tango?”

Joanna sighed. “What do you think?”

“Another booty call?”

Joanna walked over and leaned against the display case. “No, Court, that’s not it.” She sounded impatient at first. “I was so sure leaving was the answer; at the time it really felt like the only solution. I just wanted the drama to stop. I wanted to feel I had some measure of control.” She paused, unsure how much to reveal. “Do you still hate me?”

Courtney shook her head with a tentative smile and clutched the broom handle.

“Look, I’m sorry to show up here and lay this on you,” Joanna said. “Obviously, your hands are full and for all I know, you’re probably involved with someone else now, too.”

Courtney laughed. “Between all the drowning in my own sorrows and taking out business loans I don’t even know if I can repay, you think I’ve had time to get a new girlfriend?”

“You were always a remarkably efficient multi-tasker.”

Courtney rested the broom between herself and Joanna. “It’s different now. This is the first time in my adult life women and sex haven’t clouded my vision. The clarity is refreshing. I actually like the slower pace. It sounds corny but I’m enjoying the little things I never bothered to notice, the fuchsia blossoms on Rose-of-Sharon bushes, sparrows fluttering in the sand, the firm ground under my feet in Cranbury Park. We went running there all the time. If only we’d stopped, just once, and sat in the grass. Who knows?” She shrugged wistfully.

“I wanted to, I really did, but I figured you think it was lame.”

Courtney offered an ironic smile. “I probably would’ve. Anyway, one thing I know for sure. I’m gonna have to purge you from my system before I can let anyone else in.”

Joanna released a cathartic breath. “Is there room in your system for another friend?”

“Always.”

Joanna motioned toward her. At first, a reserved embrace, but when Courtney felt the strength of Joanna’s arms wrapping over and under each shoulder, she gripped Joanna even tighter. When they finally disengaged, Courtney snatched a piece of loose leaf paper off the top of the display case.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing,” Courtney blurted. No, that wasn’t too obvious.

“If it’s nothing, let me see it,” Joanna teased.

Courtney quickly balled up the paper. “It’s just a piece of scrap.”

“Then let me see it.”

“What do you care about a piece scrap paper?”

“Don’t make me wrestle you to this filthy floor.”

“Fine, here.” She shoved the paper into Joanna’s chest.

Joanna pulled open the crinkled edges. It was a sketch of the proposed front of the restaurant, Joanna’s.”

“What’s this?” Joanna asked.

Courtney outstretched her arms and glanced around. “This is Joanna’s.”

“Oh, Court.” Joanna’s eyes welled.

“So now you know.” Courtney threw her hands on her hips and posed like a prosecutor during closing arguments. “I’m not over you, Jo. I don’t care if I can’t have you. I refuse to get over you. Trying to fight it was paralyzing. I finally realized the only way to get on with my life is to live it still loving you.” She shrugged as if the decision was as simple as choosing what to cook for dinner.

Joanna smiled and wiped her cheek with her shirt sleeve. “You think you’re the only one capable of having epiphanies?”

“I don’t assume anything anymore,” Courtney replied with a playful grin.

Joanna cupped Courtney’s face in her palms and kissed her tenderly. “I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered.

“I missed you, too,” Courtney said, stroking the back of Joanna’s hair. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this rush, the quivering, the tingling, the dipping of her stomach whenever they touched. She closed her eyes and relished the sensation of Joanna’s tongue dancing with hers. She grabbed Joanna’s ass and squeezed, pulling her body into her own, and listened for the delicate whimper of desire it never failed to elicit.

“Just so you know,” Joanna said breathlessly, “this is the booty call.”

Black and White

Shanna Germain

It’s nearly ten o’clock, and I’m fucking lost. The directions the bride gave me are chicken-scratched on a note stuck to my steering wheel. I’m supposed to be shooting the preparation photos in five minutes. If I don’t figure out where I took a wrong turn, I’m going to miss the getting-ready shots.

I pull over on the side of the road and flip the sticky note sideways. Maybe I’m reading the damn thing wrong. But, no, I seem to have followed every stupid turn and winding road. Having a beach wedding in August seems smart to me, unless nobody can find the damn place.

I wonder if I didn’t get a little lost on purpose. Some subconscious thing. I hate shooting weddings. There are a million-trillion things to photograph in this world, and I like almost all of them more than weddings. I once shot a spider exhibit at the zoo, some rare creature that they were milking for venom. That spider may have had fangs and hairier legs than me in the middle of the winter, but it was no scarier than some of these brides. Done up to the nines, baring their white teeth like they want to take a bite out of you just for being there, mouths all grimaced because they can’t breathe in those tight-tight dresses they’re stuffed into.

But weddings are big money for me, so I put on my smiling face and I go and shoot their pictures. Today’s bride is white-white. That’s an odd thing to say, I know, and you might think I’m being prejudiced here. But, no. It’s all about how to take the best photo. Everybody’s skin is different and takes a different exposure. This bride, she’s likely to wash out into nothing but her blue eyes if I’m not careful. People as dark as me, we have the opposite problem. Become all dark shadowy blur. My favorite people to photograph are those in-between colors. Olive skin’s good. So is anything Middle-Eastern or Asian.

But nothing will matter much if I can’t find the wedding. I’m about to pull out when a car pulls up next to me and stops. A window goes down.

My breath stops somewhere between my lungs and my mouth. In the driver’s seat is a gorgeous woman. Skin dark and creamy as devil’s food cake, the warm brown curls of her hair cut close to her head and a tiny silver ball in each ear. She’s wearing a dark purple spaghetti-strap dress that shows off toned shoulders.

But it’s her eyes that capture me, that make me ache to photograph her. Her eyes are this big, deep dark that remind me of deer I once photographed. It’s not the color that stops my breath, though. It’s the intensity of her gaze, the way she looks at me over the half-down window. I’d photograph her in black and white, using a donut flash to capture it.

I’m suddenly sweating. My pale summer dress had seemed perfect this morning -- professional, but long and loose enough that I could move around easily -- but now it seems like a mistake. I wish I’d worn something that showed off my curves a little more, or a color that brought out the flecks of chocolate in my eyes. Even a little lipstick wouldn’t have hurt. I make a promise to myself to wear lipstick every day from now on, just in case.

She says something. I force myself to stop gaping at her and to listen to the words that come from her shimmery lips.

“...help?” she’s asking. Her hand folds casually over the steering wheel, long fingers natural at the nails, only one ring, a wide silver band around her middle finger.

“Car trouble?” she asks.

I shake my head. I wish. I have a vision of her bent over the hood of my car, her shoulders working some engine part and the curves of her ass visible beneath her purple dress.

“Map trouble,” I say. “I’m looking for Cranberry Point?”

“Really?” she says. “You just missed the turn. Back about half a mile, right-hand side.”

“Damn.”

That thing that’s in her eyes, that intensity, goes up a notch. Is this the way she laughs, I wonder? Or is it just the light changing?

“It’s okay,” she says. “You’re really close.” She must be thinking I’m swearing over being lost. Really, I’d been hoping she was going my way, dressed up the way she was. I’d already been fantasizing about her saying, “Oh, the Schumaker wedding? Why don’t you follow me?”

I hate to admit how long it’s been since I’ve found a girl that I liked, or even wanted to go to bed with. Dannie was the last one. We were good together for a long while, even though she wasn’t keen on me taking off on photo shoots without a minute’s notice. I thought it was okay until she found a guy to spend her time with, someone who never worked out of town and who had promised her a ceremony and a baby, neither of which I could bring myself to do.

“Well, I’ve got to run. Good luck,” she says. She lifts her hand off the steering wheel in a kind of wave as she pulls away, her ring glinting.

* * *

The pre-wedding photos go about as expected. The bride is shaking so hard I have to use action settings on the camera. And in her big white dress and too much makeup, she looks like a burnt marshmallow. A wiggling burnt marshmallow.

At least it’s cool in the garden. The breeze off the ocean offers some relief. I think that things are going to smooth out there. And then the bride steps right in front of my lens.

“Stop, stop,” she says. “Where the hell is Janice? Where’s my veil?” It’s the kind of wail you hear mostly from girls who’ve lost their dolls.

My viewfinder is filled with her wide behind in vanilla lace, but I don’t lift my head. I just keep pretending that I’m taking photos. I don’t know who Janice is, and I’m not about to get in the middle of things now.

Thank God the groom steps up. “She’ll be here, honey. If she misses a few photos, it’ll be okay.”

The bride goes quiet, but doesn’t move out of my frame. I focus and grab a shot of her behind. The secret to wedding photography success: keep your head down and shoot everything in sight.

“I’m here, I’m here. Sorry, traffic sucked.” Vanilla lace is the only thing in my lens, but I know that voice. It’s my girl in the purple dress. My heartbeat in my ears sounds as fast as a camera on auto-shoot.

I lift my head and there she is, coming across the lawn. Her dress caresses her hips and the swell of her thighs with every step. A pair of heeled sandals dangle from one hand. From the other trails a long strip of white lace. The light comes from behind her, highlighting her curves.

I whip the camera around to snap a few shots of her. One of the tripod legs catches on the bottom of the bride’s dress. When I try to pull it out, it pulls the fabric up. I accidently get a couple shots of her stockinged thighs.

“What in the, what the?” she sputters.

“I’m so sorry.” I go on my knees and try to untangle the mess. “I was trying to...” What? Take a picture of the woman I was drooling over earlier? Not exactly professional.

The bride yanks her dress from the tripod leg and stalks off. I’m on my knees in the grass, wondering if it’s time to switch careers, when I see her bare foot, toes painted purple to match the dress. One wide silver band circles her middle toe, too, just like her finger. I’d like to photograph that: her brown skin in contrast with the green grass. The silver ring. The purple hem. But considering my recent attempt to capture her with my camera, I figure I’d better just stand up.

She drops her shoes on the grass, and offers me her hand. There are calluses on the fleshy part of her palm just below each finger, but the rest of her skin is soft. As our hands press together, I catch a whiff of eucalyptus and lavender.

“Lost down there?” she asks as she helps me to my feet. Her voice contains the up-lilt of a giggle.

She’s taller than me, even in her bare feet, and I take in the length of her neck and the strong line of her jaw before I meet those incredible eyes of hers. They’re just as I remembered: dark and intense, with a bit of light in the corners.

“Janice,” she says, even though I didn’t -- couldn’t -- ask.

I swallow around the heart that beats in my throat. “Liza,” I say.

She lets go of my hand and I can feel the sun warm on my skin again. The tripod is heavy in my hand and the wedding party is waiting for me to take their photos.

* * *

Trying to photograph twenty people at the same time and get them all to look perfect is like trying to get two people to have simultaneous orgasms. You try a shitload of times and if it finally happens, it’s most likely a happy accident.

I get a few happy accidents before the wedding is supposed to start, so the women have time to run and fix themselves up again before the big moment. I should take this time to shoot photos of the garden and the kids running around, but I see Janice at the side of the garden and can’t resist the chance to talk to her.

“No makeup to fix?” I ask.

“Is that a hint?”

I focus in on her high, smooth cheekbones, the bare skin, the naturally lush eyelashes. Even her smooth lips are bare of makeup. And those damn eyes, teasing me.

“No, it’s just me being an ass. I do that when I’m nervous.” I fiddle with the settings on my camera, hear the click of an accidental photograph. “See, you just made me take a photo of my feet.”

“Let me,” she says. She takes the camera from me. But when she turns the lens toward me, I put up my hand.

“I belong on the other side of the camera.”

“No,” she says. “You don’t.”

Janice holds the camera with one hand and pulls my wrist down with the other. The camera between us narrows the focus until it’s just the two of us. Breath and heartbeats. Glass and mirrors. The camera clicks like her tongue against the roof of her mouth. If I sucked on it, would she taste like blackberries and vanilla? Her lips move, plump and succulent, her teeth white between.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says, but she’s laughing. “Look to the side. You have the best nose.”

I turn and spy the wedding party coming back down the hill.

“The best nose?”

“I’m an artist,” she says. “I like strong noses.”

The wedding party is nearly upon us. I know I have to take the camera back, but I’m not ready yet. With the camera between us, I can get up the nerve to ask, “Are you free tonight? After the reception? We could...” I try to come up with something. “I have a cabin.”

I look beneath the camera to where her lips move. They say yes.

* * *

By the end of the reception, I’ve shot more than a thousand photos. Half of them are of her. She knows it, too. When I focus in on her, her fierce eyes meet mine in a way that I’m not sure I could handle if it wasn’t through the glass.

I catch what I’m pretty sure is the last public kiss between the wedded couple, and start packing up my camera bag. I’m looking for Janice, thinking about getting her to my cabin and out of that purple dress, when I see her in the corner of the reception hall. She’s leaning against the wall, her shoes once again dangling from her fingers. Leaning in on her is one of the guys from the wedding party. His hand traces the ring on her finger as he talks. She doesn’t pull away. In fact, she leans in closer and I can just imagine how those eyes are looking at him, dark and laughing.

It’s so intimate that I want to photograph it. But I know that’s only because being behind the lens would give me some distance. It would make this heavy slow thud of my heart seem like it belonged to someone else. She touches his wrist, right there, where his pulse must beat. It’s Dannie all over again, even though it’s not. I have to turn my face away. My fingers fumble to clasp the camera case in the watery light.

I don’t even tell the bride I’m leaving. I just slip out the side door into the night air and hope I can find my rented cabin in the dark.

* * *

I don’t find the cabin, but I do find a bench in the garden. The moonlight backlights everything. I sit and think about all the things that you can’t truly capture with a camera: the way the stars shimmer against all that black; the deepness of true dark; the way a person feels when she realizes she’s lost her way.

“Again?” her words come from behind me out of the darkness.

I turn. She’s there, black and purple against black and purple. Even in the no-light, she stops my heart and makes the parts of my body find their edges.

“Again what?”

“Your cabin’s the other way. You really need one of those navigational devices.”

“Like, a compass?”

Her laughter changes the night. Closes the midnight in. Only dark and us.

“Well, I meant GPS, but whatever works.”

She makes a move to sit, but I don’t take my camera bag off the other half of the bench. She stands in front of me, nearly touching my knees. The fabric of her dress whispers when the wind brushes it against her legs.

I quit smoking ten years ago, but God damn if I don’t wish I had a smoke right now, some place to put my fingers and my breath. That’s what the camera’s good for, usually. I fiddle with the clasp of the camera case. Click-click.

She crosses her arms over her chest and shivers a little. I want to wrap her up in my arms, to run my palms across her back until she warms. But something in my heart is stopping me: the mental picture of her leaning in, touching that guy on the wrist.

“Change your mind about the cabin?” she asks.

“I thought maybe you did.”

For a second she doesn’t say anything. I half-hope that she’ll deny that she was flirting, or she’ll tell me he’s her adopted cousin or something. She doesn’t.

“You know, the models I work with have to get naked in a room full of strangers,” she says. “Just strip down, no hiding. It’s hard. So I do it with them.”

She drops her shoes to the ground. With one hand, she pushes the strap of her dress down over one shoulder. I can’t see the strap go, but I can see the movement and imagine. The other strap goes. She dances out of the dress until it falls to the ground. She is dark curves and the silver shine of her rings.

Something opens inside me, lets in a crack of light.

“Can you see me?” she asks, as though she is a ghost. A negative image.

“Yes.”

“Then you know that I’m not hiding anything.”

She turns and steps away from me, toward the sound of the ocean. I click-click the camera case open and closed, watching her shape walk away. The curves of her ass seem to catch what light there is, reflect it back into my eyes. She looks over her bare shoulder and smiles. It’s the perfect picture of desire. I want to hold it there, capture it and keep it closed up in a little box. But that’s what I always do. This time, I want something more.

I stand from the bench and follow her. I have to run a little to catch up to her, and my dress catches around my legs, nearly tangling me.

I put my arms around her like she’s standing on the edge of the ocean and I’m afraid she’ll fall in. I can feel the taut push of her nipples against the pulse in my arms. I kiss the back of her neck, the side of her neck, everywhere on her neck and shoulders that I can reach without letting go of her. The width of her back feels strong and warm. Her ass curves in the most perfect way. I let my hands find their way down her body to cup the sides of her hips. After holding the camera all day, her flesh feels so real, so substantial, in my hands.

She reaches back and pulls the fabric of my dress up, until the hem is at my thighs. Her fingers brush beneath the fabric, letting in the warmth of her skin and also the cool breeze that comes off the ocean. I shiver. I’m wet already, which embarrasses me somehow, but also makes me even more wet.

“I can’t paint you if you’re dressed,” she says.

“I don’t want you to pain me. Paint,” I say, correcting myself.. “I don’t want you to paint me.”

She turns and gathers up the rest of my dress to pull it over my head. I wrap my arms around myself. Even though it’s dark, I don’t like to be naked. And I definitely don’t like to be naked outside, with her dark eyes watching in the night.

“You know, for a photographer, you’re not that great at exposing yourself,” she says.

This is when I normally pick up my shit, say fuck you, walk away until I am at a tele-photo distance, a far-away safe distance. But her curves are there, pressing into me. So solid and warm. And I realize I can’t move, that I don’t want to.

Janice pulls my arms open and pushes them down to my sides. I can’t meet her eyes. Without letting go of my wrists, she leans forward and brushes her tongue over my nipples. They tighten and pucker between the warmth of her mouth and the cool of the sea air. The pucker spreads all the way down my belly. The inside of my thighs grow slippery, wet. There’s nothing to say beyond the rush of the exhale that leaves my lungs, enters the night.

She ducks her fingers between my thighs, curving them into the hollow space, the wanting space, and I groan against my bitten lips. Softly, she puts her lips to mine, pulling them away from my teeth, replacing my grip with her own.

“Touch me,” she says, the words murmured against my mouth, her teeth clenching tight around each sound. “I’ve been waiting all day...”

I swallow back the moan that her words bring, and then join her in exploring. First her mouth with my tongue, the taste of her, salt and lemon, sinking back into my throat. And then, together, our fingers tangling and wild, slipping into the in-between places, letting the shadowed parts of our bodies open, grow warm and wet. I bury my fingers in her heat, to the knuckle and when she bucks against me, further still, until I am beckoning her forward with each curve of my fingers, my thumb on her clit like it’s a camera button.

Each push another pop of flash, another captured moment, another chance to hear Janice whisper my name against my parted lips.

Janice slides her fingers out of me, and drops to her knees. She pushes both hands between my thighs and they spread for her. I can’t stop them, don’t want to stop them. Her fingers are raw and soft and hard at the same time. Janice looks up as though she can see my glistening insides in the dark.

Her warm breath happens before her warm lips, and her warm lips happen before her warmer tongue. She touches each part of me, exploring inner thighs and lips and then, finally, oh, finally my clit. The point of her tongue working tight circles that make me dizzy. I look down as she tongues me, focusing over the broadness of her back and shoulders, and the way her waist narrows in before it widens back into the curves of her ass.

She leans back to inhale, looks up at me. In the dusk, I think I can see her eyes, deep and warm. “You taste amazing,” she says. “So good...”

Then she sinks back into me as though the sea isn’t behind me, but inside me, drinking me up. Her tongue glosses along me, the softest of brushes, painting my skin with a colorless pleasure that slides up through me, layer over layer until I shudder against her mouth.

“Janice...” I breathe her name into the dark as though it’s an incantation or a prayer. I want to lay her down in my rental cabin, wherever it is. I want her on top of me and beneath me, inside and around me. I want to be in the light, exposed to her and her to me.

But I know that chance will come, if I just stay focused on what I want. For now, I take her face gently in my palms. And I zoom in on the warm laps of her tongue, as it finds its way into all of the dark, pleasure-filled places inside me, opening them to the light.

Incident at Shady Oaks

Sarah Colter

We had been on the road all day, the last four hours in the pouring rain. Having had less than four hours sleep the previous night, I was near exhaustion, and Charley hadn’t blinked for miles. Her vacant stare concerned me. She was usually an animated driver -- chatty, idly commenting on the blunders of other drivers, not quietly staring straight ahead. Was she sleep-driving? It was nearly midnight, and we were somewhere in central Kentucky. I was desperate to find a place to sleep.

In an area that bore no other signs that offered services, I spotted a partially burned-out marquee that read ‘Welcome to the Shady Oaks Motel.’ Pointing anxiously, I read it aloud. I was relieved to see Charley show signs of awareness. The word ‘vacancy’ was not lit up, but we took a chance and pulled into the parking lot, anyway. Yawning, getting soaked to the skin as we dashed from the car to the building, we entered the lobby of the shabby little motel and found an old man at the front desk. He had been peacefully puffing on a cigarette as he watched the rain through the glass door, but his eyes lit up with friendliness as we crossed the threshold.

The clerk was old and looked frail. Tall, thin, partly bald, he seemed amicable enough. Although the temperature had been in the upper nineties that day, he was wearing a hooded jacket zipped up to his chin. A large tin can on the counter was overflowing with cigarette butts, some still smoldering. Needless to say, the room reeked.

I could’ve cheered when he told us there was a vacancy. I had mixed feelings because of the smell, but in my weary state, I decided I could live one night with Eau Du Ashtray if a bed was part of the deal.

The clerk introduced himself as Gus, and began taking down our information. He was a talkative, accommodating man with trembling, withered hands, but he eyed me with undisguised interest. Charley was openly amused, but I was discomfited by the old fart’s lusty leer. Patiently enduring his painfully slow movements, we waited for him to get us checked in. Our wet clothes dripped on the linoleum, leaving large puddles around our feet.

I mused on whether to mention it to Gus, or to let him come shuffling around the desk where he could possibly slip and splat out on the floor, maybe break a hip or something. Old folks have brittle bones and a fall could easily cause a serious injury. I sighed inwardly. Though he was obviously an indiscreet, bawdy peeper who couldn’t take his eyes off my tits, I couldn’t let him get hurt. I wasn’t that petty. I pointed out the puddles. How could I feel bad about contributing to the safety of a senior citizen?

Without missing a beat in his rambling dialogue, he ambled over to a row of shelves that contained linens, chose a torn bedspread, and arranged it on the floor at our feet. As I watched the material soak up the mess, an ominous shiver passed through me. I had a flicker of an image of blood, brutality, rage, sadness and pain. Emptiness. In the spot where we were standing, a violent act had either happened in the recent past, or it would happen in the near future. A full-body shudder rocked me out of the partial vision. I leaned against Charley for support. As always, her arm immediately closed around me. I was thankful for Charley.

I had had predictive episodes all during my childhood, often foreseeing gruesome videos of things yet to come. When standing within the perimeter of the scene of an accident or a brutal act, I sometimes recounted it, even though I had not personally witnessed it. Disturbingly, one after another of my dreaded visions became reality. I wanted them to be false, to be mistaken, but every detail of every scene was played out to exactness. If I saw it in that special psychic realm in my consciousness, it happened. It was my gift and my curse.

My family and the people in our church were not receptive or supportive when I tried to warn them of impending danger, and even when one of my visions could have saved one of them from injury or death, they condemned me for using a wicked tool to obtain information unfairly. I learned young to keep my thoughts to myself. Being an outcast because of my ‘gift’ became such a frightening possibility to me that I tried desperately to quell my own visions for years. They came anyway, unbidden.

It was only after Charley and I became friends that I was able to make peace with the entity that created those visions. I still couldn’t talk to anybody else about it, but Charley’s acceptance, her love and her quiet, cynical common sense gave me sanctuary from those who had so harshly judged me. But then, of course, she and I became lovers, which, in my family’s opinion, had they known, would have even more adamantly excluded us from their Heavenly circle.

I no longer cared what others thought about my lifestyle. I loved my girlfriend, and she loved me. In these modern times, they weren’t going to burn us at the stake or anything quite so unpleasant. I hoped.

As far as the psychic episodes were concerned, though, I was still too terrified to share them with anybody but Charley.

When Gus had collected his money, he handed me the key and promised to meet us at Room 4 in five minutes (give or take a couple seconds) with fresh towels. Plunging back out into the rain, we moved the car to the parking space directly in front of the door with the upside-down 4.

While still sitting in the car, I studied our surroundings. It looked desolate, cheerless and abandoned, but I knew there were occupants. I could feel them. Another of my bizarre ‘gifts,’ I could usually sense the presence of other people in my immediate area the way most folks felt it when someone was staring at them – especially if the mental processes of the nearby people were anomalous in any way. And these presences were extremely anomalous. I couldn’t get an exact count, but guessed that there were more than two, less than ten.

Because of my fear of being scoffed at or stoned, I wasn’t the typical psychic. I’d never found a lost child, saved anyone from death, led the police to a kidnap victim -- never did anything spectacular -- but I was hyperaware of everything around me. I just happened to be occasionally conscious of unsought things to which I shouldn’t have been privy. I was grateful that Charley didn’t try to make me feel destined for hell. She did often chide me for being a ditzy, softhearted pacifist, but she gracefully accepted my other abnormalities, and loved me anyway.

We were not alone.

A curtain parted in the window two doors up the walk from us, Room 2, a lone male figure peering out at us. I was comforted that we weren’t completely secluded with the old man. His actions had reminded me of a character named Norman Bates from the movie Psycho. There was something sinister about the scenario, although it was hard to define. I couldn’t actually picture Gus peeping through pre-drilled holes in the bathroom walls to catch a glimpse of his female guests in the act of undressing. He just didn’t seem that depraved.

The residents of this building weren’t ordinary folks. In fact, I had the oddest feeling that they were a little like me, and as conscious of us as I was of them. The door to our neighboring Room 5 opened a crack, and a woman’s form filled the space. When I stared back, both motel guests regressed back into their rooms. The lighting was so dim that they couldn’t have seen me clearly, couldn’t have known I was staring, but then, as I said, most people sense being watched. And I felt the affinity.

They were like me, only moreso. Way moreso.

I wished I could’ve seen their faces, heard their voices. I wanted to feel their many auras, to touch their faces, to share their dreams. I know. I was completely idealistic. I was a hopeless romantic. What can I say?

But then, I’d always been social like that. I enjoyed the interaction. Even with my bitter background, I loved people, loved getting involved with their problems and trying to find a solution. Charley wasn’t so outgoing. I couldn’t label her a misanthrope, but she wasn’t exactly a people person. She liked my company, but preferred not to socialize with others. I’d always heard that opposites attract. Charley and I -- we were the perfect example.

I thought it was strange that there was only one other vehicle in the parking lot, a large van with an air conditioner on the roof, which was equipped with a side door for wheelchair access. I counted ten doors down the length of the sidewalk. If the other nine were occupied, where were all the cars? Commune living was a possibility. Prostitution also crossed my mind, but Gus didn’t fit my idea of a pimp.

I was way too tired to be speculating.

I could have slept straight through the rest of the week. I was euphoric about the opportunity to rest my weary head, even if only for less than twelve hours. Not that I was in the habit of sleeping that many hours. Since childhood, my schedule had been fairly regular – up at six or seven, off to bed by ten or eleven, but since Charley and I had taken the public relations and booking agent jobs, my sleeping schedule had been seriously upset. As a result, I often found myself wanting to oversleep as a means of compensation. I hated the inconsistent hours, the constant long-distance traveling, and how miserably worn out I felt all the time.

The available room was furnished with one queen size bed, as well as a substandard structure with one missing and one lopsided drawer that served as a dresser, and a bedside stand that hosted a dusty lamp and a retro-style telephone. On the shelf beneath the lamp was a tattered phone book. I had doubts that it was for the current year. There was no television, no clock, and no offer of coffee or ice. Stark, but for thirty bucks, we couldn’t expect much.

The closet was merely an indentation in the wall with a broomstick nailed up on both corners, and for our convenience, two hangers had been strategically placed on the stick. The way to the tiny bathroom was a tight little path around the bed, past the rusty window-style air conditioner that roared like a jackhammer, and over a carpet bar that, when one stepped on it with bare feet, the aged host informed us as an afterthought, could deliver a notable electrical shock. I promised to be careful to step wide when going to the bathroom as I crossed my arms over my breasts to shield them from his lewd view.

Charley’s blank gaze followed Gus as he made his exit after his short guided tour of the ten by ten room. He had brought towels and other supplies wrapped in a trash bag to keep out the rain. Even with the precaution, the towels were damp, so I hung them over the shower curtain rod, made use of the grimy facilities, took off my clothes and hung them alongside the towels, and then managed to step on that damned electrified carpet bar on my way back to bed. I uttered an obscenity that Charley didn’t acknowledge. When I got to the bed, she was already undressed and beneath the covers. She had hung her soppy clothes on the two hangers. Sleepily, I crawled in beside her, trying to ignore the musty smell of the linens.

I sighed in exhaustion, snuggled up close against my girlfriend’s naked body and closed my eyes. As usual, her arms automatically went around me. The raucous air conditioner, the foul smells, the mattress lumps beneath my hip and shoulder, the prickles of feathers poking through the pillow, and the overall aura of the room would have kept me awake any other night, but that night, in my sweet Charley’s embrace, I slept like the dead.

* * *

“Morning, sugar,” Charley murmured in my ear. She nuzzled my neck and placed a kiss on my jugular vein. It tickled pleasantly. “It’s daylight outside, and it stopped raining. Can’t listen to the weather report because there’s no TV or radio in here, but my spider sense tells me it’s going to be a beautiful day.”

“Your spider sense,” I echoed dully. I wasn’t ready to be awake. I was willing to blatantly ignore her if necessary. “How long ‘til checkout time? Can we sleep another hour?”

She reached for her cell phone, squinting at the screen. “It’s a couple minutes to eight,” she answered, smothering a yawn. “Checkout time is noon.” Rolling away from me, she got up and followed the narrow path around the bed to the toilet.

I stretched, inhaled a long pull of stale, moldy air. Wincing, I coughed. It sounded like a smoker’s cough. I wasn’t a smoker. Well, to be perfectly honest -- I’ll put it this way -- I never smoked tobacco.

I drifted, still loathe to submit to total alertness, but the thought process, as usual, ran rampant in my psychic brain. I couldn’t turn it off, that annoying clarity that invaded my every waking moment, and sometimes even permeated my dreams. Some people took medication for such conditions, but I considered my myriad morning ponderings entertaining. I embraced my muses, or demons, or whatever name the little imps that squirmed around in my subconscious realm preferred to be called. Who could ever get bored when endless supplies of thoughts, dreams, and fantasies were easily obtained and completely free of charge?

My fantasies usually involved Charley, especially the sexy ones. Even my dreams of winning the lottery included her. I couldn’t even think about the future without making plans for the two of us together forever. I was obsessed with her, and I was convinced that she was just as obsessed with me.

Charlene and I had met and became friends in high school, but it wasn’t until our college years that we got together as lovers. We had been living as a couple for nearly eight years, and we were comfortable. Our life together wasn’t spectacular, and we weren’t really ‘out’ to the world, not even to our families. Especially not to our families. My older brothers were still actively trying to hook me up with every available stud they knew. Charley’s mom didn’t seem to care one way or the other. She was too busy making money, and too preoccupied with her campaign to become the next governor of Alabama, to notice that her only child was a lesbian. We chose discretion, both for our sakes and theirs. But we weren’t ashamed. Neither of us would ever deny our relationship.

Not telling the truth was quite a different matter than telling an untruth. We didn’t have a rainbow painted on the side of our car, but if the question of my status was ever directly posed, I would have declared my undying love for Charley.

After Charley and I graduated from college, we breezed through a number of shit-jobs, finally lucking into the higher-paying positions of being road agents for the Southern Cross Wrestling Federation. The only drawback to an otherwise lovely opportunity was the travel: booking shows in multiple far-away cities so the business could expand and make the illustrious Cross family and their brood more widely recognized. I couldn’t complain about the money. All the bills were paid, our wardrobes were improving, and we were even considering a move to a better neighborhood. We might even get a dog.

My only real problem was the crazy hours we had to keep. This trip had been to Detroit, which was the farthest point we had driven from our home in Mobile. And when we did get home, we would only have a couple of days to rest before we’d be back on the road again, off to some other far-away arena. The endlessness of it all gave me spiritual fatigue.

Sometimes, I thought, I would rather live in the ghetto, work in a factory that made water-guns, calendars, wooden spoons, or some other product either trivial or significant, and have my schedule back the way it was before I’d hired on for the sleep-depriving agent job. I wasn’t materialistic. Femme, yes, but I wasn’t the high-maintenance lipstick type. I could live in a lot worse conditions and remain content. I just needed my girlfriend, enough money to keep the lights on, and to get my proper amount of sleep during the proper hours. Was that too much to ask?

Blearily, I watched as Charley returned from the bathroom. Unlike me, she stepped wide over the metal bar. Instead of walking all the way around the bed, she climbed over me, pulled the covers over herself and settled in comfortably.

I groaned. I didn’t want to move a muscle, but I had to go pee, damn it. Clumsily, I got out of bed, remembered to step over the inch-high bar as I stumbled into the bathroom, and plopped down on the toilet. I leaned over on the greasy basin as I emptied my bladder, wondering what sort of gunk I was getting all over my forearm and cheek. I could take a shower later, but would probably need some strong grease-cutting formula to make me feel clean again.

On my way back to bed, I switched off the ridiculously noisy air conditioner. I cuddled up in Charley’s welcoming arms and sighed, ready to return to dreamland.

“You do realize that it’s hotter than hell outside,” she said, grudgingly getting up to round the bed again. I sat up on my elbows, prepared to be repentant. Through a haze of weariness, I watched her stand and stare at the sagging window unit. When she turned it back on, the tremendous noise was revisited tenfold. It vibrated the entire wall, drummed like bass in very large speakers with the volume blaring. I felt slightly ill from the effect. It almost drowned out her voice as she added, “It is August, you know.”

There was a pool of water on the rotted windowsill that ran down the wall and streamed off to the left and right, lining both sides of the electrical outlet where the unit was plugged in. Charley and I assessed the dangerous fire hazard for a quiet minute before she gave me an offhand shrug and plodded back around to her side of the bed. When she cuddled me up again, I hugged and kissed her, and closed my eyes.

I was perfectly content to lie there, safe in her arms, forever. I just needed some earplugs.

* * *

It seemed like only five minutes had passed when Charley announced that it was eleven o’clock. We had one hour to vacate. Grumbling, joints creaking, I got up and headed for the shower. A minute into the soothing warm spray, Charley joined me. She scrubbed my back with a soapy washcloth, gently washed the globes of my ass, slid her hands beneath my ample breasts to wash beneath them, then danced me beneath the dwindling spray to rinse away the soap. I returned the favor, washing her body, but instead of using the rag, I tossed it aside and began to lather her up with my bare hands.

“I never get tired of your touch,” she breathed huskily. “I love you, Eve.”

“Love you, too,” I said, meeting her kiss. “When we get home, I’ll give you some special good loving.”

“That sounds good to me, baby,” she said, running her fingers gently through my long, wet hair.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” I countered teasingly, and kissed her again.

When we ran out of hot water, we dried off and got dressed, gathered up our belongings and stepped outside to greet a bright new day. The sun was high in the sky, the temperature was somewhere in the nineties, and the humidity was sweltering. Immediately, sweat began to pop out all over my freshly-showered body.

I carried the room key to the lobby, hoping the front desk would be unattended so I could drop the key into the mail slot without the inconvenience of getting ogled by the old man again, but when I opened the door, he was lying on the floor in a crumpled heap. My heart hammered at the sight. His head and upper body were drenched with blood, as was the floor beneath him, but I couldn’t see his injury. I didn’t spend much time searching.

Breathing erratically, I bent to lift his wrist, checking his pulse. He was alive, but didn’t respond to my touch or to my voice. In my mind, I saw a flash of the demented face of an angry man staring down at him. I would never forget that face -- the face of the old man’s attacker. He was a stranger to me, but I would recognize him in an instant. Dark, unkempt hair, twisted mouth, narrow hazel eyes, slender body, he would be easy to pick out in a line-up.

The only problem was that I hadn’t seen the actual attack, and if I told the cops that I was psychic, they would think I was a crackpot. The terror of exclusion and scorn returned. There was no way I could divulge what I had seen.

Opening the door, I shouted for Charley. She came at a run. “What the hell happened to him?” she asked, staring at the unconscious man.

“Somebody hit him.” The bedspread he had put down to soak up the rain was gone. “We should probably call an ambulance or something.”

She looked surprised. “He’s breathing?”

“Yeah, he’s not dead,” I answered. “At least, not yet.”

“Then, yeah, we should call an ambulance!” She rushed to the desk and reached for the phone, but drew her hand back without touching it. “Oh, shit,” she muttered. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“What is it?” I moved to her side to see what had caused her to hesitate.

The cash drawer was standing open, emptied except for small change. There were bloody marks on the keyboard, and two distinct fingerprints on the drawer itself. We stared for a minute, digesting the situation.

“He got jacked,” I said. “For the money.”

Charley nodded. “Looks that way, babe. Damn.”

We watched cop shows on television, so we knew the rules about crime scenes. Charley dialed 911 on her cell phone and summoned the police.

* * *

The ambulance and two fire trucks arrived minutes before the cops, and before long, the tiny lobby was swarming with uniforms. Charley and I moved aside to give the EMTs room. We quietly discussed slipping away, hoping no one would notice, but I was afraid that would make us suspects.

I hadn’t heard the name of the town until the officer in charge, an overly assertive woman in her forties, approached us and asked, “What are you ladies doing here in Carversville?”

Out of character for her, Charley didn’t seem to be as offended as I was by the condescending tone in the cop’s voice. “We’re road agents for the Southern Cross Wrestling Federation out of Mobile, Alabama,” she disclosed frankly. “We just booked a show in Detroit and we were driving back home. We stopped in for the night to get some sleep.”

“Gus was fine when we checked in,” I said.

The officer didn’t smile. “So, you found him like that this morning?”

“Yes,” I answered, feeling semi-defensive. “I came to return the key and there he was.”

“Did you see anybody else?” the officer asked.

“You mean did we see the person who whacked him?” I clarified, trying to keep the obstinacy out of my voice. “No. I’m pretty sure if I’d walked in on them during the robbery, I’d be lying there on the floor beside Gus.”

“You might have a point,” the cop agreed, turning to glimpse at the unconscious victim. She poked the EMT with her pen. “What’s the story?” she asked. “Is he going to make it?”

The balding Emergency Medical Technician gave her a doubtful shrug. “It’s bad. Blunt-force trauma. That means he took a hard lick on the noggin. Looks like a tire iron.”

“A tire iron?” I said. “But he lost all that blood!”

“Scalp wounds bleed real bad,” the cop said with hardly any inflection. “A pretty serious head injury.”

Charley and I were horrified at the graphic realization. “He could die,” I said.

“It could happen,” the officer said.

“Then whoever did this is an attempted murderer!” Charley said. “Shouldn’t your people be dusting for prints and shit like that?”

“They will,” the cop assured us. “They have to go back to the station and get their equipment. In the meantime, I want to get your statements and home addresses so you can be on your way. I’ll give you my number. If you think of anything that might help us find out who did this, be sure to get in touch with me.”

I considered the face that I’d seen in my vision, but staunchly elected to hold my tongue. They had the bloody fingerprints, so if they were competent, they would find the person responsible for the crime.

* * *

A mile down the road, we found a small-town service center that was a combination diner, gas station, and garage. In the same lot, we were told that tire repair and oil change coupons could be obtained at the car wash, which was connected to the local auto parts store. We passed on the car wash, gassed up, and went inside the diner for breakfast.

The waitress, a plump, middle-aged woman, walked with a cane. As I was pondering on how she managed her job with her limitations, she pushed out a serving cart laden with scrambled eggs, biscuits and gravy, and a carafe of coffee. Conversationally, she asked us about what had happened over at the Shady Oaks Motel. We divulged that there had evidently been a robbery, but didn’t tell her that the cops figured poor old Gus was at death’s door.

“My name’s Debbie,” the waitress said with an introductory wave and a half smile. “I’ve known Gus all my life. He’s quite a character.”

“I gathered that,” I returned. I could see her burning curiosity. “I’m Eve. My friend, Charlene.”

“Hi. Good to meet you.” Debbie plopped down in a chair borrowed from the next table over and began to speculate. “A few folks around here didn’t much like Gus. He wasn’t never convicted of it, but some think he’s one of them there sex offenders. He never came onto me, so I can’t say, but my youngest daughter says he looks at her like she’s a big, red apple that he’d like to bite into. Maybe he looked at somebody else that way, too, and maybe some jealous husband didn’t like it.”

I averted my gaze, unable to come up with a response that didn’t sound lame. I had to bite my lower lip to stop it from trembling. Charley spoke for us both. “The hell you say. You mean to say that sweet old man was a perv?”

“Was?” Debbie was quick to pick up on the tense of the verb.

“Well, is,” Charley corrected.

The waitress was sharp. “Is he dead?”

“When we last saw him, he was breathing,” I answered diplomatically. I fidgeted and took a bite of my eggs. I couldn’t taste them.

“He’s got helpless folks living in that motel, you know,” Debbie imparted. “Folks that ain’t right in the head, couple of real messed-up gals. One or two of the men have been to prison. One of ‘em got beat senseless in the pokey. One of the men is mentally retarded since birth. Gus keeps ‘em out there, lets them live in the rooms. I hear he takes their monthly social security checks and just gives ‘em what they need to survive.”

I frowned at the news. “Is he taking advantage of them?”

“Don’t know for sure,” she answered. “At least he’s taking care of them. Nobody else was willing to. They ain’t living on the street or out in the woods. They got a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. Ain’t none of ‘em got enough sense to make it on their own.”

I remembered the two figures I had seen in the doorways, and the man’s face in my vision, and it occurred to me that she was right. Maybe the old fucker was trying to do a good thing. He probably ended up spending their money on repairs, doctors, prescriptions, or dental appointments that benefitted his guests. At least, that’s the version of the story I would keep telling myself to give the old man the benefit of the doubt.

Another thought occurred to me. If Gus died, who would take care of those poor people?

A bell dinged, announcing customers coming through the front door. I pasted on a smile and tried to pretend I would miss our discussion as Debbie struggled to her feet and went to seat them.

“We are not going to stay here in this one-horse town and play the Whodunnit game, Eve,” Charley said. “We’re not! We’re just... not.”

“No,” I said. “I... I just want to...”

“I don’t want to be here, and this thing might never get solved!” she scolded.

I wanted to go visit those people living in the motel rooms. Because our room had been the only one available, I guessed that there were nine residents, and I had the distinct feeling that eight of those nine were going to need help in the near future.

But the ninth person was a criminal. And I had seen his face. I would tell Charley about that later. At the moment, I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it. “Can’t we just stay one more night?” I tilted my head and put on my best pleading look.

She looked exasperated, but I could see the look affected her. It never failed. “Where are we going to stay? You really want to go back to that dump of a motel? The whole place should’ve been condemned a long time ago! Anyway, the cops will probably have it taped off so nobody can get in there. And besides -- who would we pay?”

“Do you think Gus ran the place all by himself?”

“Sure looked that way to me. Did you notice that big can of butts sitting on his desk?”

I wrinkled my nose. “I noticed.”

“We both know the old guy was a pervert. We saw the way he was staring right straight at your boobs.”

“Well, technically, that doesn’t make him a pervert. That just made him obvious. But yeah, I hear you. I felt... visually violated.”

“Yeah, I know. Pissed me off a little bit,” she said. “On my bad days, I’m not above punching a senior citizen right square in the nose, but I let him slide because he kept his hands to himself.”

“I wish I could check on the people living in the motel,” I lamented.

She shook her head. “What if one of them is the guy who cracked Gus in the head?”

“One of them is,” I imparted. “I still have our room key. When I found Gus like that, I guess I stuffed in it my pocket and forgot about it. We can go back and use the room. The police couldn’t have blocked the whole place off if people are living there! If they’re as dependent on Gus as Debbie said, they’re going to need help! What if they’re hungry or need medication? Somebody needs to check on them.”

“Don’t you think that’s a job for the cops?”

“You would leave the welfare of those people to the officer we talked to a while ago? She didn’t seem like the nurturing type to me.”

She heaved a long sigh. “I was afraid you were going to say that,” she groaned.

* * *

Three police cars were at the motel, but there was no yellow tape in sight. A group of people were gathered beneath a massive weeping willow tree at the corner, viewing the investigation from a distance. I assumed, judging by the state of their wrinkled, ill-fitting clothing and their uncombed hair, that these people were the room residents. As we parked and got out of the car, I studied them.

Ironically, it was Charley who prompted me. “Well, go on. Go introduce yourself.”

I hesitated. “You think I should?”

“They’re human beings, not animals. If anybody attacks you, the cops are right there.”

I glimpsed at the young policeman who was wrapping the door handle with wide, clear tape, and suddenly, I had second thoughts. “Why are we involving ourselves in this again?”

“Because you’re a bleeding heart who cares too much,” Charley answered. “And you’re a total airhead. You’ll fit right in. So go.”

“I am,” I agreed. “And I do.” I opened the car door. “And I will.”

“And that’s all of the reasons I love you, baby. So get over there and mingle with the loons.”

I didn’t think ‘loon’ was the right word for them. Wasn’t that a type of duck or something? But I sauntered over to the group and tried to unobtrusively blend with them. I thought I stuck out like a turkey in the henhouse.

Their curiosity put me on the spot, but I was even more curious about them. “I’m Eve,” I said, sticking out my hand to the nearest woman. She was in her thirties, extremely thin, obviously anorexic. She wore a shapeless orange dress that matched her orange hair. She was barefoot, and her toenails were filthy. “You live here?”

She nodded. I detected no mistrust in her green eyes. “Yeah, I’m in Room 1. I’m Allison. Somebody must’ve killed Gus.”

A heavy, black woman wearing sweat pants and a bright yellow T-shirt had more information. “Mickey done it. Mickey. He’s hiding in them woods so the po-lice don’t get him. He’s the one done it, the sorry motherfucker.”

Allison took it on herself to make introductions. “This is Jolene. Pat, Bob, Steve, Tammy, Robin.” I studied each person as they were named. Jolene looked nothing at all like Charley, but her attitude was similar. I immediately liked her. Pat, Bob, and Steve were all nondescript white men, in their middle years. Tammy and Robin were young white women who seemed intimidated by the outside world. Robin’s eyes stayed averted as if, in the past, she had been punished for visual confrontations. They were, indeed, a pathetic bunch, but my heart went out to them. I wanted to help them. I had no idea what needed to be done, but leaving them in this god-forsaken motel in the boonies wasn’t the solution.

I tried to focus on the issue at hand. “Did you see Mickey do it?” I asked Jolene.

“Nope, but nobody else woulda done such a thing. He’s got that rage thing going. Never see him when he’s not foaming at the mouth, all pissed off at the world. His room is full of holes where he’s punched and kicked in the walls when things don’t go his way. Asshole motherfucker. A button pops off his shirt and he throws a chair through the wall. Gus gave him a place to live when nobody else would, but the stupid asshole hated the old dude, threatened to kill him a couple of times. Yeah, it was Mickey.”

I didn’t tell her that Gus wasn’t dead -- at least he hadn’t been when we’d last seen him. “Where did Mickey live?” I asked.

“In nine, right next to me. I’m in eight.”

“Who lives in ten?” I asked, peering at the row of doors.

“Nobody. That room’s got big leaks in the roof and shit,” Jolene said.

“Nobody in four, either,” Allison said. “Except you and your friend stayed there last night.”

“We might stay again tonight,” I told her. “If the cops don’t object. If Gus really is dead, whoever inherits the motel might not want us all living here.” My ploy to include myself was meant to incorporate me in their circle, and it seemed to work. Without having to do much to earn their trust, I had been accepted. It distressed me that they were such easy marks for unscrupulous people, which increased my desire to help them.

“That would be me.” Standing between the other two men, Bob stood straighter and made his claim. “Gus is my grandpa. I’m the only kin he’s got left, so I reckon that means I get the building.”

“And what are your plans for it?” I asked hopefully. It was plain that Bob was mentally challenged, so I had my doubts about his ability to handle the responsibility.

Bob shrugged and spit on the ground. “Don’t know, yet. Leave things the way they are for now, maybe.”

“Don’t you receive income from social security?” I said. “There have to be apartments or mobile homes you can rent in Carversville.”

“Us?” Jolene snorted. “We’re a bunch of rejects! Who would rent to us?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” I asked.

Pat, the tallest of the three men, spoke up. “I was in prison for twenty-five years. Doubt anybody would want me living in their neighborhood.”

“What was your crime?” Charley asked as she joined us. I reached out to draw her close beside me, comforted by her presence.

“Rape, murder.”

“Who did you rape and murder?”

Pat’s blue eyes darkened. “It was a mistake. It wasn’t rape. The bitch was willing, but then she went nuts because I wasn’t hung well enough to satisfy her, and she didn’t get her rocks off. She started calling me all kinds of nasty names. She busted me in the nose a couple of times, and I just snapped. I grabbed her neck and shoved her off of me. Got my clothes on and left. I guess she cracked her head on something, ‘cause the law found her dead later on.”

I shivered at the graphic details. “You spent twenty-five years locked up for an accident!” I said. “And now you can’t even rent a home because your reputation follows you around. That’s not right.”

“I was in the asylum over to Hopkinsville,” Robin said in a high-pitched tremor, her eyes steadfastly lowered to ground level. “Thirteen years in that place. I’m sure nobody would ever rent me a trailer, either.”

Consolingly, Tammy put an arm around Robin’s shoulders. “Like Jolene said, we’re rejects. This place is the only home I’ve ever had. I lived on the streets in Louisville most of my life.”

“I’m no stranger to the cold outdoors either,” Jolene said. “I came here from Indiana, looking for work, but what I found was more of the same shit I grew up with.”

The last to speak, Steve cleared his throat and announced, “I had a home, once. Had a job, a family, nice things... All went to hell when I lost my job. I wandered around loose for a while, got put in jail for public drunkenness a lot.”

“You’re all just victims of circumstance,” Charley said. “Gus isn’t the only person who can help you. There are shelters and stuff.”

I looked around the misfits, picked out Jolene as the person who would be most likely to state the bald truth, and asked, “Did Gus mistreat you? Was he kind and generous, or was he ripping you off?”

Jolene sighed. “Both,” she answered. “He was good as gold to us all, but he did pocket them checks. He took every cent, but we had a roof over our heads, bed to sleep in, plenty of food and clean clothes.”

“Did he put the moves on any of the women?” Charley asked.

“Just me, I think,” Allison answered primly. “He usually slept in my bed, when he slept. Mostly, he stayed in the office.”

“Yeah,” Jolene affirmed. “He’s sweet on Allison. But he can’t do anything for her since he can’t get it up. He just likes to touch.”

My cheeks heated up in slight embarrassment. “So, what about Mickey?”

The group was silent, all eyes wandering toward the wooded area behind the motel.

“So,” Charley said, following their gazes. “He’s in the woods?”

“He’s afraid the cops will take him back to prison,” Allison said softly. “Killing is wrong.”

“Yeah, it is,” Charley agreed. She caught my gaze and asked, “Did Mickey whack the old man, Eve? Was it really him?”

Hesitantly, I shrugged. “What does Mickey look like?” I asked the residents.

“He looks like an asshole,” Jolene answered bluntly.

Steve took out his wallet, pulled out a photograph and handed it to me. In the picture, Steve, Bob and another man were standing in front of the office, both men giving Bob rabbit ears with their fingers. The third man was tall and slender, and even in the picture, I could sense malice in him. He was indeed the man I had seen in my vision. “This is him,” I confirmed, shuddering at those demented eyes. I handed back the photo. “He’s the one.”

“You saw him?” Jolene asked, staring at me.

“In my mind, yes,” I said.

I had their attention. The entire group waited for me to go on. After a long breath, I explained. “I could never tell anyone about this before. But I’ll tell you, because I know you’ll understand. I have psychic episodes. I see things that have happened, or are about to happen. I saw this guy standing over Gus. I wasn’t there when it happened, but I’m the one who found him lying there. When I touched him, I saw Mickey’s face.”

They were quiet a moment, and then Robin stepped close to me, held out her hand, and tremulously met my eyes. “What do you see for me?” she asked, desperation in her voice.

She was begging for hope for the future. I took her hand. I saw nothing, but I wanted to reassure her. “I see you overcoming your shyness, getting moved into a nice apartment, and living a normal life,” I said. “In fact, I see that for all of you.”

They surrounded me, and frantic hands were on me from every direction. A flash of past sexual abuse entered my mind, and surprisingly, it was from Jolene. I understood her resentment. I saw their pain, their futility, their surrender to the inevitable. I stood there, letting them touch me, trying to coax them into normalcy, but I knew it was next to impossible for them.

Allison’s touch gave me a new flash: that Gus was still in her future. He was in all their futures. My jaw dropped in astonishment at the revelation. He would survive and return to take care of his flock.

Finally, it was Charley who spoke. “Eve, are they going to be okay?”

My bleeding heart was maxed out. “Yes,” I said. “They’re going to be fine. All of them.”

“What about Mickey?” Allison asked.

I drew in a deep breath for courage. “I’m going to tell the cops what I know.”

“We’ll all go,” Jolene said, and they took a simultaneous step toward the building.

It warmed my heart that the whole group was prepared to back me up. With Charley beside me and the residents directly behind us, I walked to the office door.

* * *

The police found Mickey’s hiding place and dragged him from the woods in handcuffs. Charley and I made a trip to the hospital in Bowling Green to see Gus. He opened his eyes as we entered his room, and a warm smile greeted us. His head was bandaged, and his eyes were swollen and black. “Good to see you girls,” he said.

I smiled back, even though he was staring straight at my tits. “Yeah, Gus,” I said. “Good to see you, too.”

“Doc says I’ll live,” he went on. “I’ll have to take it easy a couple days, but then I can go on back to my normal stuff. I reckon I’ve got a hard head.” He beckoned at me, his eyes on the door, then murmured quietly, “Think you could sneak me in some cigarettes?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so, Gus. Sorry.”

He sighed in disappointment. “I hear they got Mickey.”

“Yeah,” Charley said. “They got him.”

“He needs a little time behind bars. Maybe it’ll teach him something.”

“I doubt it,” I said, stepping closer to touch the old man’s arm. I hoped to see a rosy future, but what I got was his grim past. He had been homeless himself until he had lucked into a windfall. He had used that money to buy the motel, and after a time, had begun taking in strays. Although I couldn’t see it in my mind, I had a feeling that he would continue his charity-type work for years to come. That was a good thing.

I bent to place a kiss on his stubbly cheek. “You should quit smoking,” I advised. “It’s bad for you. We have to get back to Alabama, now. We’ll stop in again sometime and see you, though.”

“You promise?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “I promise.”

Hot for Teacher

Jodi Payne

We weren’t even halfway into the semester yet and already I was looking forward to my fiction writing class more than I probably should have been.

Way more.

Sure, it was a great class. It wasn’t a requirement for non-majors and so most students actually wanted to be there. It wasn’t a gigantic class, either, as some English classes tended to be at the university level. It was maybe thirty students, which was very manageable.

The professor was articulate and talented and, as a writer herself, she practiced what she preached.

But, frankly, the subject matter could have been chemistry or history or the civil rights of the kosher dill pickle for all I cared. The professor was hot. Too hot for me to be working in such close proximity with her for such a long time, so many times a week. I was starting to worry I wouldn’t be able to hide it from the students much longer.

* * *

Her name was Lisa Kushner and I was her Teacher’s Assistant. The first time we met was in her office a week before classes began. She handed me the syllabus and a cup of hot tea, and we talked about her teaching philosophy and the ways in which I could be of use to her. I managed to hear most of what she said while I was fantasizing about the many other ways in which I knew I could be of use.

“You’re a grad student?”

“Yes, I’m thinking of going into teaching myself.”

“It’s not a romantic profession,” Professor Kushner told me. “But I’ve never regretted it.”

“No regrets. That’s the way to live.”

“It certainly is, Alice.”

That was when I realized she’d caught me staring at her cleavage. I remember going right home that afternoon and calling up Rickie.

“Rickie, baby, I’m so fucked.”

“Hey, girl!” Rickie answered in her typical cheerful fashion. I’d known Rickie a long time. She had a bad day once in a while, but a bad day for Rickie was usually remedied by one of two things. Chocolate, or sex. And she never seemed to have any trouble finding a Milky Way or a mr.Goodbar.

“Rickie, the professor...”

“Oh, girlfriend, I can hear it in your voice,” Rickie said, sounding sympathetic. “You need some TLC.”

“I so do.”

Half an hour later Rickie was sitting on the end of my bed, painting my toenails a scary hooker red.

“I don’t know about that color,” I said uncertainly, but Rickie waved her hand at me.

“Red is classic. Red makes a woman feel hot.”

I snorted at Rickie. “Like you know anything about dating women.”

Rickie gave me a haughty look. “I aspire to be one, darling, I’ve done extensive research.”

Well I couldn’t argue with her. She was the one saving money for her transition after all, it was entirely possible she did know more about women than I did. The only research I had done was a careful and in depth examination of Professor Kushner’s ass. Mmm. And her--

“So does she have great boobs?”

“Funny you should ask, Rickie, I was just thinking about them.”

“Round, perky?”

“Firm, just a little too big.”

“My God, Alice, you’re such a chauvinist.”

“This should come as no surprise to you.” Any more than it ought to surprise me that Rickie asked about them. She had a book of boobs that she put together as part of her transition research that contained the cleavage of close to a hundred women, ranging from movie star tits to those of women she knew, including mine.

Which were too small for my own liking.

“Name?”

“Lisa.”

“Age?”

“What? Are you writing a book?”

“I can’t advise you accurately without all the details.” Rickie set my foot down and picked up the other one.

“Your advice is always the same, Rickie.” I raised my hand and tapped her on the shoulder. “If she’s hot and single,” I said, imitating Rickie’s sweet, light voice, “go for it, honey.”

“Honey, if you don’t trust my advice, why do you ask?”

I sighed. “Okay, okay. So she’s, I don’t know, maybe thirty-five? Forty tops.”

“Nice. In her prime.” Rickie nodded her approval.

“Will you stop? I have to work with her!”

“Oh, Alice, sweetheart. You’ve got it bad, don’t you? You’re really fighting this.”

“I do not have it bad. She’s hot, is all.”

“Is she single?”

“As far as I know... no ring or anything.”

“Then go for it, honey!” Rickie beamed at me.

“See? You’re no help.”

“Oh, hush now. Flash those baby blues at her, sweetheart, and she’ll be all yours.”

“Rickie, why do you assume the whole world is gay?”

“Because if they’re not, they ought to be.”

I laughed. “Someone has to breed up more men for you to chase after, you know.”

“That’s what test tubes are for.”

Rickie had an irresistible way about her. No matter what came out of her mouth, you simply had to agree.

* * *

The second time I saw Lisa -- Professor Kushner -- was at the very first class. I handed out the syllabi as she introduced me as her ‘lovely assistant’. I sat kind of off in a corner of the room, waiting for her to break the class up into groups or to ask me to do something, neither of which took place. Instead, she lectured for the full hour and twenty minutes and then assigned a writing project and sent the students on their way.

I packed up my bag and hiked it up on my shoulder. “See you Thursday,” I said as I headed for the door.

“Alice, could you wait a minute?”

“Sure!” I said, far too cheerfully. I was thinking, ‘would you like me over the desk?’

She didn’t. Instead, she pulled out her cell phone and asked me for my number. “And here’s mine,” she said, rattling numbers off to me to put into my phone as well. “I want to be able to get in touch with you over the weekend.”

“Sure, of course.”

“Or if I can’t make it in for some reason.”

“Right. No problem.”

“Do you like Italian?”

I raised an eyebrow. “I do.”

“Good,” she said. “See you Thursday.” Professor Kushner left the room, leaving me to stand there and watch her ass again. Woe is me.

That night I couldn’t take it. I finished my studying, I watched an hour of Jay Leno, and then I turned out the light, but despite the late hour I couldn’t get to sleep. I’d noticed that afternoon that Professor Kushner had brown eyes, a deep, rich, bottomless color. I dug my little pocket rocket out of my bedside table and let my fantasies win, just for the short time it took for me to come. The phallus vibrated against my body, its humming traveled through my hips and up my spine. I held it tight in my fist and drew it hard and fast across my clit as if I were jerking off.

“Fuck, yes,” I growled into the darkness. “Come on!”

The friction was driving me nuts, drawing heat into my cunt and making my legs tense and my knees draw up until it finally drove me mercifully past the point of no return. I know I cried out, I always do, but this time there was a name I shouldn’t be uttering in that manner on my lips, and brown eyes taunted me, laughed at me, flashed their inherent heat at me until I could breathe again.

They faded, along with consciousness.

* * *

Thursday came and went. Professor Kushner wore a conservative skirt, but the heels on her brown suede boots shouted “fuck me, Alice,” and it was all I could do to keep from rubbing my thighs together while she lectured. I practically ran from the classroom that afternoon, not waiting to discuss the lesson plan for the following week.

As it turned out, that defensive move worked in my favor -- if you consider what happened next favorable. Some would call it foolish, and they would probably be right.

My cell phone rang at ten Saturday morning. I answered it without looking at the caller ID as I was sure it was Rickie calling about our usual Saturday morning brunch and gossip session.

“You sound sleepy, I hope I didn’t wake you,” came a smooth voice over the line.

“Hm? No, no, I was... I’m awake,” I lied.

“This is Lisa.”

Lisa. Lisa... it took me far longer than it would take an actually awake person to find the meaning behind the name. “Good morning, Professor Kushner.”

“Hmm. I’d rather you use my name,” she said in a low tone.

“Okay. Good morning, Lisa,” I purred at her. It was right about then that I woke up enough to understand what was going on. “I... uh...” I started stammering like an idiot. “Can I help you? Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine, Alice. I was hoping you might be able to meet with me to discuss the lesson plan for next week.”

“Oh! Oh. Yes. Yes, of course I can do that.” Lesson plans, I reminded myself hastily. Meet up, discuss business, come home and cry to Rickie. Got it? No funny stuff.

“Great. How about seven o’clock at my place? I know you like Italian.”

I swallowed so hard she must have heard it on the other end of the line.

“Alice?”

“Uh... yes. Yes, okay. Seven o’clock.”

“Sixteen Brewster. White house with black shutters.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Wonderful. I’m looking forward to it.”

She hung up the phone. It was plainly obvious to me that neither of us was interested in discussing lesson plans tonight. It took me five tries to dial Rickie because my hands were shaking so hard.

“Date.”

“What?” Rickie had loud music going in the background and she sounded out of breath.

“Date, Rickie.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. No. My hands are shaking.”

“Oh, my God.” The music shut off abruptly. “I was just working out, sweetie. Let me shower and I’ll be right over. Don’t do anything drastic,” she told me and then hung up.

Her admonishment had more meaning behind it than you might think. The last time I had a date that made my hands shake I decided in my hormone-induced hysteria that I hated my hair so much I should cut it all off. Myself.

Needless to say, that had been a terrible, sobering disaster.

I opened my closet door and stood there staring into it. My heart was pounding in my chest. I had nothing to wear. Professor Kushner -- Lisa -- was always so well put together and I looked like... well, I looked like a struggling grad student. Which is exactly what I was.

Rickie saved me just as I’d decided to take everything out of the closet in desperation.

“Whoa! Whoa, girlfriend! Step away from the closet.”

I threw my hands in the air like I was being arrested.

“Now.”

I stepped backward.

“One more.”

I stepped back again and my knees hit the bed. They buckled and I sat heavily.

“I don’t want to know what you were thinking,” Rickie said, picking up the pile of clothing that was still on hangers on the floor and hanging them back up. “I told you not to do anything drastic.”

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“I suppose I should be glad that you didn’t get out the scissors again.”

“Rickie, I want her.”

“I know, baby. Tell me what happened.”

“She called me and woke me up. I thought it was you.”

“Oops. Did you call her ‘baby’ or ‘darling’?”

I sighed. “No, thank God.”

“Good. Now, what did she say?” Rickie was pawing at my clothing, comparing fabrics and colors and who knew what else. She seemed to be channeling some ethereal offspring of Carson Kressley and Magnum P.I.

“She said... she said she wanted me to call her Lisa, and invited me to her house tonight at seven to discuss lesson plans over Italian food.”

“Wow.”

I nodded.

“Well, sister Alice,” Rickie said, turning away from my closet with several outfits in her hands. “We have our work cut out for us.”

* * *

Rickie did my hair, my make up and dressed me. It was nothing dressy or fancy, but I was so nervous that if it hadn’t been for her, at seven o’clock I’d have probably been sitting on my bathroom floor in tears. As it was, I was still two blocks away.

“I’m late,” I said miserably into the phone.

“Alice, sweetheart, this is sex. The anticipation makes everything sweeter. You’re hot, I promise. Get off the phone.”

Rickie always knew just what to say. “Thanks, baby.”

“I love you. Now go get laid before you explode.”

“I love you, too,” I said, smiling as I hung up.

Lisa’s house was large, and by large I mean enormous. This was no white house with black shutters, it was a fucking Victorian mansion. It was set off from the street by a gate and a long white fence. The lawn was impeccably green and the walkway up to the front door was lined with colorful flowers. The front porch was wide and stately and led to double front doors, one of which was standing open and letting out warm light.

I knocked, feeling a little small.

Lisa appeared moments later, smiling as she held open the screen door. “Hello, Alice.”

I blinked, thinking maybe I was seeing things. The professor who was usually so professionally put together was dressed casually in khaki pants and a soft brown v-neck sweater that complimented her eyes. With her hair down and wavy around her shoulders, I could see that it was actually auburn, lighter and redder than I had thought. She was beautiful. I don’t know how long I might have stared if she hadn’t interrupted my thoughts.

“Coming in?”

“Oh. Sorry I’m late.”

Lisa waved a hand. “Pfft. You’re not late.” I felt her eyes on me as the door swung closed. “You look... stunning. I love that sundress.”

I blushed. I’d have been embarrassed, but something told me she liked it. “This old thing?” I winked.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Lisa watched me for a moment and then nodded once, smiling. “Come on, dinner’s almost ready.”

I noticed with smug satisfaction as we moved through the house to the kitchen that there were no lesson plans anywhere in sight.

“This is a great house.”

Lisa smiled, leaning over the stove to stir something. “I love it. It’s really too big for just me, but I can’t give it up.”

“I can understand why. It must take a lot of work, though.”

“Well, gardening is a hobby I adore, fortunately, and I’m pretty handy with a hammer and a screwdriver. I manage okay.”

I peered out the kitchen window at the back yard. It was larger than the front yard: wider, and deeper, too. There was a big patio right behind the house and a vegetable garden off to the right.

Lisa appeared at my side. “The asparagus is from the garden, um... the tomatoes and the bib lettuce, too.” She touched the small of my back with a warm hand. “Sound good?”

I turned my head and met her eyes. “Sounds great.”

“Great.” She moved away again.

“Can I help with anything?”

“Nope, just have a seat,” she said. “Oh, actually, yes. Can you open the wine?”

“Yep.” I took the bottle opener she handed me and headed into the dining room. She’d set two places, one at the head of the table and one off to the right. I opened the wine and was setting it out to breathe when she came out, hands full of food.

“Hand me the--”

I reached for a hot plate before she finished her request.

“Thank you.”

“This all smells amazing.”

“Homemade spinach and feta ravioli, garlic marinara...”

“Amazing.”

“Sit down, please.”

I sat, eager to taste, pleased to discover that at some point I’d lost the nervousness I’d been feeling all day. Probably as soon as Lisa smiled at me at the front door.

Dinner was unbelievable. I must have told her so ten times as I savored the smooth flavor of the ravioli and dug into her garden fresh salad. We made small talk; Lisa asked about my folks and about my studies and I asked her about the house and how long she’d been teaching. But all of it was so clearly just to pass the time. Neither of us even skimmed the surface of what we both seemed to know was going to happen after dinner.

It occurred to me suddenly that Lisa might not be saying anything on purpose. I didn’t know anything about academic politics, but it was possible that she wasn’t free to make the first move without reproach. And frankly, even if she could have, I was tired of waiting.

“So I, uh... I forgot my lesson books.”

“I noticed that when you arrived.”

“I didn’t see any of your work out, either.”

Lisa swallowed. “No. No, I suppose not.”

“I watched your ass all through class on Thursday.”

“I know.”

We stood up at the same time. I don’t know who reached for whom first, but we were suddenly in an embrace, kissing at first and then tasting each other’s skin. “God, Lisa.”

“Alice.”

I pushed my hands up under her sweater and she tugged my dress up over my hips. The next thing I knew I was pressed up against the edge of her dining room table. My shoulder straps were down around my elbows and Lisa’s sweater was... somewhere. Probably on the floor.

“Want you, Alice.” She pulled my panties off and went to her knees.

“Oh, fuck.” I was already having trouble breathing before her tongue touched me. “Oh!” I spread my legs wide, wanting more. Wanting everything she wanted to give me. Right then. “Lisa!”

Her tongue circled my clit and then dove inside me over and over. I had terrible leverage and I couldn’t rock into her the way I wanted to and I whined in frustration.

“Can I fuck you?” Lisa whispered.

“Yeah. Yeah... anything you want.”

She took me by the hand and led me upstairs.

That was the first time anyone had worn a harness in bed with me. The dildo was thick but not too long, and she completely filled me with it, thrusting into me gently and slowly as she took first one and then the other of my nipples into her mouth. I was flying on sensation, ankles locked around her ass, hips arched up off the bed and rocking so the tip of the squat dildo hit just the right spot inside and the nubby ring around the base rubbed my clit with each practiced thrust.

“Oh, God. Oh, fuck, yes, Lisa!”

Jesus she was good with that thing. I was drenched before she was done with me. I’d had two smaller climaxes along the way, but the last one shook me hard. “Lisa! Please, please! Oh, God!” I was begging for it by the time it actually overcame me.

Turns out she had a little bullet vibe in the harness and she came hard, shortly after I did, cursing like a sailor.

We lay there afterwards, both of us sweat-soaked and panting heavily. Lisa deftly unhooked something and the harness fell away and with a twist of her wrist it fell over the side of the bed.

“I knew you had a good vocabulary, but I had no idea it was that colorful,” I joked softly.

“Are you okay?” she asked, kissing my cheeks.

“Great. Wonderful. That was amazing.”

She looked visibly relieved. “I wasn’t sure if... some women don’t like...”

“I loved it.”

“Jesus, maybe now I can concentrate in class finally.”

We laughed and held each other as we fell asleep.

* * *

I consulted Rickie again about how to handle class on Tuesday, but she was no help at all. She couldn’t get enough of it. I honestly thought she was jealous.

“Okay, so was it a realistic cock-like thing?”

“No, Rickie, it was just a smooth dildo. Keep your little boy fantasies to yourself.”

“You’re no fun.” She pouted and that was the end of the discussion.

So, while the pressure may have been released, the steam was building up again during class on Tuesday. I made a point of talking to different students at random during class and sitting down with each of the independent critique groups as well. Anything to keep my mind on the subject and off of the professor.

It wasn’t working. She was looking hot in her tweed skirt and her conservative cream-colored blouse, with her hair up in its usual studious bun. I could feel her eyes on me every time she walked past. I could smell her perfume. She even went so far as to touch my shoulders as class was ending.

“Time to wrap up, Alice.”

“Oh, uh. Sure. Yes.” I stood up, and went to pack up my things. I lingered as the students filed out, not exactly sure why but hoping for something from Lisa. Anything that would tide me over until the next time we’d meet. She approached me as the last student left and leaned close. I thought maybe she was going to kiss me but she pushed the lecture hall’s door closed and secured a chair under the handle.

My mouth went dry. “Here?” I croaked, and swallowed hard.

Lisa nodded at me.

I moved to her, pushing her up against the blackboard. Lisa reached up under her skirt and tugged off her panties, which she handed to me. My gut clenched and my pussy was suddenly on fire. I took them in one hand and pushed the other under the fabric of her skirt and between her thighs, making her gasp softly.

“Shhhh,” I said, touching her again. She was so ready for me, slick and wet, and her scent rose up between us, making my head swim with want.

It didn’t last long. I stroked her as she rocked into my fingers and in moments she was trembling against me, biting her lip until it was white to keep from making a sound. When it was over, I kissed her hard. She reached for her panties but I shook my head, no, and stuffed them into my pocket.

She looked like she might come again.

* * *

“You left me.”

“What? I did no such thing.”

“You never answer your phone anymore, you don’t return my calls...”

“I’ve been busy, baby.”

“Girlfriend, you better watch your step.” Rickie worked her neck at me as she spoke so I knew I was in trouble.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Rickie. The semester is more than half over.” I sipped my coffee, enjoying our usual brunch and gossip session.

“How many nights have you spent in your apartment since that first date two months ago?”

“Um...”

“Exactly. And you don’t call, you don’t write... you don’t love me anymore.” Rickie poked at her French toast.

“Uh-huh. And how many times did you call me after you met the body-builder?”

“That was different,” Rickie protested.

“How, exactly?”

“That was lust, not love.”

“This isn’t love.”

Rickie eyed me. I looked right back. She arched one finely tweezed eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

I blushed immediately and waved a hand in the air to cover it. “Probably should get the check, huh?”

“Is this why you haven’t called me?”

“No. I told you, I’ve been busy.”

“Busy schtupping your new lover with the PhD.”

“And course work,” I protested.

“What did you do last night?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Last night. What did you do? How did you spend your time?”

I didn’t see the trap coming. “Oh! Last night was nice. Lisa took me downtown to a sushi bar and then we went for a long walk in... the park... and...” I sighed, knowing I’d been sussed. “Oh, fine.”

Rickie looked smug. If she’d grinned any wider her face would have split in half.

“Shut up.”

“So what’s going to happen when the semester is over and you move in with her? I’ll never hear from you again.”

I stared at her. “How did you know I was--?”

“Ah ha! I knew it! You’re moving in with her.”

“Ah! That was no fair! You tricked me!” Again. One of the many reasons I loved Rickie. She could outfox a fox. And be prettier doing it.

“I hate to think how long you’ve known and haven’t told me,” Rickie pouted.

“Oh, baby. I’ve only known a few days. She just asked me Saturday night. Promise.”

Rickie just pouted more.

“I swear.”

More pouting.

“Um... maybe you’d like to come to dinner and meet her?”

Rickie lit up like a Christmas tree. Or, in her case, a Hanukkah bush. “Oh, sweetheart. I thought you’d never ask.”

It was overdue, really. Why I hadn’t thought to introduce Alice to my best friend before I don’t know, except maybe that I hadn’t thought of sharing Lisa with anyone up until then. I’d been sort of focused. Obsessed. And horny.

* * *

So dinner was planned and dinner was had. As I expected, Rickie completely out-dressed me, wearing her favorite silver Vera Wang blouse, chandelier earrings and fabulous heels. What I hadn’t expected was for Lisa to share Rickie’s inexplicable passion for the minimalist composers of the 1960s. They talked endlessly about Philip Glass, Steven Reich and La Monte Young, leaving me almost completely in the dust.

And I was positively giddy about it.

It was nearly midnight when Rickie finally made her exit, leaving each of us with red-lipped kiss imprints on our cheeks. I walked her out to her car.

“Keep that one, darling, she likes you.”

“I don’t know how you could tell, talking as much as you did,” I joked, opening her car door for her.

“She might have been talking with me, but her arms were around you. And might I also mention that if she wasn’t interested in you, she wouldn’t have made such an effort to get to know me.”

“Maybe.”

“No maybe, go back inside and put an exclamation point on the evening.” Rickie slipped into the driver’s seat, effectively putting a period on our conversation.

I laughed. “I will do that,” I said and gave Rickie a hug. “Thanks for coming. You look fabulous.”

“I always look fabulous,” Rickie said, winking at me to take vanity out of her words. “Good night, you. Thank you for inviting me.”

When I got back to the house, into Lisa’s house that had already started to feel like home to me, Lisa was cleaning up the kitchen. I stepped up behind her at the sink and slipped my hands under her blouse.

“Mmm.”

“You have a crush on Rickie.”

“I do. On her mind. She’s so interesting and well read and--”

“Smart, I know. I constantly feel inadequate.”

Lisa laughed. “I imagine it would be difficult not to. Don’t stop doing that, though.”

“Is that going to help improve my IQ?”

“No. Not likely.” She sighed as I released the clasp on her bra. “But it makes a very good impression on me.”

“Oh, and I definitely want to make an impression on you.” I slid my hands under her bra and cupped both of her breasts, pulling her back against me. “Done with those dishes?”

“Dishes?” Lisa turned around and took my jaw in her hands. They were still damp and warm from the dishwater.

“Your hands are wet.”

“Me, too.” She kissed me. “Alice.”

I felt lightheaded at the sound of my name. I was already hot and wanting out of my clothing. “God, what you do to me.”

I pushed her shirt up over her head and she let her bra fall to the floor. She undressed me as we kissed and fumbled our way up the stairs. By the time my back hit the bed, we were both naked.

Lisa looked into my eyes. “You’re beautiful,” she told me, punctuating her statement with a soft kiss.

“Rickie is prettier,” I teased.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make a joke out of my compliment. You’re beautiful. I mean that.”

“I’m sorry, Lisa.”

“You should be.”

“You’re beautiful, too. You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever known. Or ever want to know.”

Lisa smiled slightly, and then lowered her mouth to my breast, licking and sucking on my nipple. It sent bolts of electricity through my body. I slipped my fingers between her thighs and she gasped, then started to ride them, lowering her weight onto me and taking exactly what she needed.

“Alice... God, yes.”

I twitched and bent my fingertips slightly and she tossed her head back, arching harder into my hand. “Alice!”

“I love you, Lisa,” I whispered. The words just fell from my lips, true enough but without the uncertainty that had accompanied them when I’d offered them to others in the past. She didn’t answer immediately, but she didn’t stop either; she rounded her back and kissed me hard, grinding against my fingers for another brief moment and then tearing her mouth away to gasp. “I. Oh, God! Yes!” Her body convulsed against mine and her thighs went taut and tightened around my hand. “I love you, too. Fuck. Oh, God.”

I didn’t wait for her to catch her breath, wanting to share her panting, sweaty relief. I wrapped my legs around her and humped up against her, and she reacted instantly, shifting so her thigh was seated tightly between my thighs.

“Yeah,” I breathed, barely above a whisper, but she heard me well enough.

“Fly, Alice,” Lisa told me her voice warm and sated. She wrapped an arm around me and lowered her mouth to my ear. “Want to see you fly.”

“Oh, God.”

I wanted. Needed. It took little more than her whispered encouragement and the short-lived, fervid grinding of my hips and I was there. Beyond there, and then gone. Fireworks exploded in the darkness of my mind and waves of pleasure rolled through my body. I was falling. I was flying.

* * *

The last class of the semester went by so slowly I thought I was going to die of anticipation while I waited for it to be over. It was possible that Lisa... Professor Kushner said something worth remembering, but I simply wasn’t able to pay attention.

Lisa was wearing a conservative skirt, but her blouse was unbuttoned just so and she’d worn heels that made her ass look great. Her hair was partly up, swept back and up off her face, but long and wavy in the back. She’d done that on purpose. She was teasing me.

“And lastly, I’d like to thank Alice, my assistant,” Lisa said. The mention of my name pulled me back to the task at hand and out of the fantasy of what I wanted to do to Lisa after class. “For making my semester far less stressful and a great deal more pleasurable.”

“Oh, no,” I said from my seat, smiling and crossing my legs demurely. “The pleasure was all mine.”

Defining Moments

Giselle Renarde

There were certain conversations that never took place in the summertime. The sun might pride herself as the great elucidator, but winter was the season of humble introspection. When outside it was bitterly cold, what else was there to do but curl up in bed together, to kiss and touch and writhe in unison, then bask in the warmth of each other’s bodies?

When snowflakes like cotton balls fell from the sky, Devra wrapped her arms and a fleecy blanket around Priti’s shoulders and kissed her hair. Sighing, Priti rolled onto her back and gazed out the window. The streetlights made the falling snow glow bright white against a backdrop of blue.

“How did you know you liked girls?” Priti asked.

Devra was somewhat amazed the topic had never come up before. “You mean when did I first know?” she clarified.

“Yeah. Did you have a Eureka moment where you were like, ‘Aha! I’m a lesbian?’”

She recognized it was meant to be a joke, but Devra ruminated nonetheless. “Not exactly. I mean, yes, sort of, but I wouldn’t have used those words at that time.”

“Why not?” Priti asked, then continued without waiting for an answer. “Because you didn’t want to be pigeonholed or grouped into somebody else’s narrow definition of sexual identity?”

Devra propped up her head with the palm of her hand. “No. Because I was five.”

“Five, as in years old?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow,” Priti replied. “You started early.”

“It wasn’t a matter of starting, and at the time it didn’t mean anything to me. It’s only in looking back that my selective memory has chosen that event as significant.”

“What event?”

“Nothing big. I’m surprised I even remember,” Devra began. “When I was in kindergarten, I had this useless blob of a teacher, Mrs... oh, I don’t remember... Mrs. Blob.”

“Are you telling me this is a significant figure in your life and you can’t even remember her name?”

“Give me a break; I was five.”

“Okay, so you had a crush on Mrs. Blob.” Priti giggled.

“God, no. No, it was Mrs. Blob who made me wish I wasn’t a girl. I had this growing awareness that when I grew up, I would be a woman. Mrs. Blob was a woman, and damned if I wanted to look like that when I got older.”

“That is so mean!” Priti admonished, giving Devra a playful kiss on the arm.

“No, it created some genuine anxiety for me. I didn’t want to grow up and be a woman if that meant looking like Mrs. Blob.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense. What about your mom? She wasn’t a blob, and you knew her before your kindergarten teacher.”

Devra agreed. “And I had seven skinny aunties, too, but at that age I didn’t recognize that they were women; Mom was Mom. I mean, some people think that way their whole lives: my mom isn’t a woman, she’s just my mom.”

“Yeah, seriously. So, you were five, your mom wasn’t a woman, and your blob of a teacher freaked you out?”

“Right, and then one day I found something that completely alleviated my little panic attacks,” Devra went on. “Some perv had torn pages out of a girlie magazine and left all these pictures of naked women blowing around the playground.”

“Oh my God!” Priti gasped, clenching her fist to her chest.

“Yeah, well, I picked one up and...” For a moment, Devra was lost. “I still remember her feathered blonde hair and her skinny frame, her perky tits...”

“And you wanted to look like her?”

Again, Devra reflected. “No, that wasn’t the thought process. I saw that naked playgirl and I realized for the first time that not all women looked like Mrs. Blob. It’s not that I looked at this picture and I wanted to fuck the girl -- I was five; I didn’t know what sex was -- but it wasn’t a feeling of aspiration either. How can I explain it? I guess it excited me that there were women like that in the world. She was an image, for me, that represented something larger, something of myself.”

Priti didn’t seem quite sure how to respond. Then her brow furled and Devra knew she was in trouble. Again. “I’m not exactly a perky blonde playgirl.”

“Thank God,” Devra chuckled, rolling on top of Priti and taking her curvy body in a big bear hug. She growled at her lover. “I’d never let you out of bed. I’d keep you chained to the headboard and--”

“Stop it,” Priti pouted, pushing her away.

Devra sighed. “What?”

“Stop... I don’t know... wishing I was somebody else.”

Devra rolled off as Priti struggled not to meet her puzzled gaze. Arguments always started this way. “What are you talking about?”

Flipping onto her side, Priti stared out the window and into the falling snow. “I don’t know. Never mind.”

Exhausted as she was, Devra knew better than to let herself fall asleep when Priti was in a mood. “Well, you’re obviously upset about something. What did I do this time?”

“Don’t be like that.”

“Be like what? I’m just asking you a question.”

“You’re trying to provoke me.”

Any reply would have “provoked” Priti further, so Devra kept her mouth shut and wrapped her arms around her girlfriend. Priti was silent at first, but this was to be expected. It always took her some time to work up the nerve to speak her mind. “If you’re so interested in skinny white girls, why are you with me?”

“When did I ever say...”

“Are you just going to leave when you find someone who fits the mold?”

“There is no mold,” Devra began, tracing her fingers across Priti’s stomach. “This is the body I love. These curves,” she said, grasping them, “these curves do it for me. These thighs and these hips...” Priti flicked her hair away so Devra’s hot breath could enter her ear unobstructed. “This ass--”

“This fat ass,” Priti scoffed.

“This perfect, curvy, feminine ass,” Devra corrected, pressing her hips against it. With her legs, she wrapped around Priti’s while her hands wandered in the direction of Priti’s breasts. “And these tits, Priti. God, I love your tits!”

“Well, I won’t argue with you there,” Priti conceded. “They are pretty great.”

“You have magnificent tits,” Devra declared, sculpting them. “I love your body. Praise God you’re in it.”

With a pleased giggle, Priti pressed Devra’s hand downward. “I praise God when you’re in it.”

Devra laughed, tossing her head. “You watch too much porn, kid.”

Rolling onto her back as Devra shifted, Priti pouted. “I’m not a kid.”

Not this again!

“It’s a term of endearment,” Devra consoled, pressing Priti’s breasts together to bury her face in their gentle slopes. She licked them. Wrapping her mouth around their cinnamon flesh, she took their nipples between her front teeth. As Priti lay back, sighing with delight, Devra came to a realization. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen Casablanca.”

“Nope, never,” Priti said, shaking her head.

“Add that to the list. We’ll rent it,” Devra replied. She felt like she was issuing a command, though that’s not how she’d intended it.

Priti groaned. “I hate black and white movies; everybody talks so weird.”

As Devra’s fingers descended upon Priti’s pubic hair, raking it like grass, she decided this conversation was best left undone. It was hard to tell, sometimes, what careless word might destroy the mood, and it probably wasn’t the best time to mention how uneducated Priti sounded when she made such statements. It puzzled Devra; Priti was the eternal student, but sometimes it seemed like she was trying to sound stupid.

“What are you thinking about?” Priti cooed.

“Nothing, Priti.”

“Ooooh, I like it when you say my name.”

Slipping her fingers into Priti’s wet slit, Devra purred, “Do you like it when I rub your clit?”

“But say my name,” Priti moaned, writhing against Devra’s slippery fingers.

“Priti,” Devra gurgled, flowing down her body and breathing in the scent of her gorgeous cunt. “What do you love most?”

Eyes closed, Priti breathed hard, tossing her head to flip stray bangs from her eyes. Devra licked her fingers and rubbed Priti’s clit, hot and fast, until squeals of pleasure emanated from the back of Priti’s throat. “Fuck me.”

“Is that what you love best?”

Priti nodded. “But say my name.”

“Priti...”

“Fuck me with your fingers.”

“Yeah?” Devra teased, pressing her palm flat against Priti’s cunt. “Why? You like that sort of thing?”

Priti nodded, squeezing her eyes shut. “But say my name.”

“Priti,” Devra repeated, thrusting thirsty fingers into the pink hole.

Writhing, stirring, reaching up to the headboard, Priti sighed. “Oh, honeyfig, I love it when you fingerfuck me.”

“You love it, Priti?” Devra growled affectionately, pounding Priti’s pussy. Her breasts heaved, the light from outdoors highlighting her sienna-toned curves in shades of winter blue. Devra reached out to grab those perfect tits. It wasn’t enough to touch with her hand. She felt up that soft flesh against her cheeks, kissing Priti’s skin, sucking Priti’s nipples.

When Devra buried her face between Priti’s breasts, Priti tapped her calf with a sulky big toe. “What happened to fucking me?” she pouted, raising her hips to greet Devra’s generous fingers. Elbows against the mattress and fists clenched in the small of her back, she propped up her core and presented herself like a sacred offering.

Devra smirked. She fucked Priti, though her arm was exhausted and her fingers cramped. Priti’s pussy was so wet and welcoming she just couldn’t stop.

Tossing both ankles over Devra’s shoulders, Priti put her body completely in Devra’s strong arms. Brimming with pride, Devra brought the gorgeous girl to orgasm. She knew it wasn’t just her magic fingers that did the trick. The sight of Devra pummelling her pussy turned Priti on more than anything. Priti was all about the visuals. Devra knew it was the sight of her surging muscles that made Priti gasp and writhe. That’s why Devra put on a bit of a show, biting her lip, putting on her bedroom eyes, and aligning her body between Priti’s thighs. The visuals heightened every flesh-on-flesh feeling, and she wanted her girl to come harder than ever.

When Priti couldn’t stand the screaming pleasure anymore, she rolled away and buried her exhausted pussy under the covers. Devra followed her beneath the cotton sheets, spooning in the light of the blue birch trees outside the window. Their bodies were in a simple cocoon of feathers and cotton.

“I feel like such a traitor sometimes,” Devra mused.

“Don’t feel that way,” Priti cooed.

“At least let me tell you why first,” she said. “Do you remember the teen magazines from when we were kids?”

“Uhhh...”

“You remember: they were full of glossy posters of, like, New Kids on the Block and... I don’t know... John Stamos and all those cool dudes.”

“John Stamos?” Priti giggled. “Did you have a big crush on him?”

“First name that came to mind.” Devra shrugged.

“Yeah right! I bet you had your hands in your panties every time Who’s the Boss? came on.”

“You’re thinking of Tony Danza.”

“Whatever.” Priti shifted onto her back, folding a pillow to prop up her head. “I barely spoke English back them. Teen heartthrobs were not really on my radar.”

The duvet slipped down to Priti’s stomach and her gorgeous tits shone in the moonlight. Cupping them, Devra absorbed their tender warmth. She couldn’t get over what magnificent breasts her girlfriend had. She was so lucky to be with Priti.

“What was I saying?”

“About teen magazines,” Priti reminded her.

“Oh, right. My cousin Meghan and all my friends had their bedrooms plastered with these posters of New Kids. I had no interest -- and I mean none at all -- in any of that crap, but, God, they were so boy-crazy.”

Priti nodded slowly. “And you followed suit so you wouldn’t feel left out.”

“Yeah,” Devra said, ashamed to admit it. “Meghan gave me all the posters that weren’t so great or that she had doubles of and we put them all up with scotch tape. My mom came in and she was just mortified that I would be going to sleep with all these boys in my room.”

“And then she was even more mortified when you started sleeping with all these girls in your room,” Priti teased.

“Yeah, but you’ve already heard that story. Anyway, my dad was just like, ‘Oh, she wants to fit in. It’s no big deal.’ He had no idea how right he was. I knew I was different -- not yet in a way I could articulate, but I had an overwhelming sense of not being the same as all my friends at school. I knew I had to try extra hard to be like them, because it sure as hell wouldn’t come naturally.”

“Unlike me.”

“Huh?”

Priti smirked. “I come naturally.”

“That’s true.” Devra chuckled. “With no artificial sweeteners or battery-powered devices.”

Leaning close, Priti planted a tender kiss against her forehead, and another on her lips.

“When did you first know?” Devra asked.

Priti shrugged her tawny brown shoulders. “The moment I saw you.”

Devra rolled her eyes, “No, I don’t mean when did you know I was a lesbian. When did you first know you were?”

“I understood your question and I answered it.” Priti kissed her again. “The moment I saw you, I knew everything you would do to me. For me, it’s not about being a lesbian; it’s about being your girlfriend. You created this me, this Priti who kisses a girl and sleeps with a girl and loves a girl.”

“Oh, come on now,” Devra scoffed, though it pained her to reject the compliment. “You must have had some sense before I came along.”

“No, my honeyfig,” Priti cooed, her tone sticky and sweet as mango pudding. “You changed who I am. I saw you and I became a different person. I can’t imagine making love with any woman but you.”

Devra’s chest puffed with pride. “You’re such a romantic. I’m sure you’ll change your tune in a year or so when you’ve heard all my stories, but it’s really cute that you think so now.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No!” Priti pouted explosively. “You’re saying you don’t think we’ll stay together.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Devra replied, struggling neither to raise her voice nor roll her eyes.

Priti pulled the sheet up to cover her naked breasts. “Why do you never think before you speak?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you always take things the wrong way,” Devra replied. It wasn’t a smart thing to say, but too late now.

“You are so infuriating,” Priti cried through gritted teeth. Whipping her legs out from under the duvet, she jumped out of bed and strode naked across the bedroom. Her face went such a bright shade of red, Devra thought her eyes might pop out of their sockets.

It was a dangerous move in a situation like this, but Devra smiled. “Well, we sure do argue like married people.”

Priti’s arms fell to her sides. The snowy light from outside illuminated the muscles and curves of her abdomen, her breasts and thighs.

“You know, you really are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met,” Devra gushed. “I’m glad you came around.” Her mind rewound to their initial meeting, to what might have been called courting at one time, to the endless come-ons that fell flat, and she started to wonder, “Hey, if you knew from the beginning we would be together, why did you resist me so hard when I first asked you out?”

Priti’s face fell. She reflected, and then replied with a smirk, “I didn’t like you.”

“What?” Devra cackled, half amused, half confused. “You didn’t like me?”

“No, I thought you were very annoying.”

“But you just said...”

“I met you, and I saw in my mind all the things you would do to me in bed. It seemed so... I don’t know, frightening.” Priti sat on the edge of the bed, and Devra threw an arm around her hips. “I meant it when I said you changed who I am. It’s not easy to change. It’s very, very scary.”

“Exciting, too.”

“Yes...” she mused. “I never told you that before?”

“No, I think I would have remembered my girlfriend telling me she hated me.”

Grinning, Priti replied, “I’m sorry, honeyfig. If it’s any consolation, I don’t hate you anymore.”

Devra chuckled, “Yeah, thanks. That helps.”

“You know I’m kidding. I never hated you,” Priti went on, weaving her fingers through Devra’s. “It was hard to let go of the person I used to be. It was hard to let myself do things I’d grown up thinking were bad and wrong.”

“But you never had any inkling, when you were younger, that you’d be in bed with me today?”

Staring across the room, Priti replied, “There is one thing...”

Devra’s heart bounced in her chest. One thing was better than nothing. “Yeah?”

“It’s about my body...”

“Tell me.” Devra’s toes wriggled under the covers.

“It’s about the way my body reacts to a woman.”

“Tell me how your body reacts to a woman,” Devra purred, tracing her fingernails across Priti’s thigh.

With a velvet giggle, Priti said, “My body gulps when I see a beautiful woman.”

“It gulps?”

“Yes, my pussy gulps like it’s taking a long drink of water. It only does that for women, not for men. Only for beautiful women, as if it were clapping its lips like little hands to applaud their beauty. I noticed it a long time ago, the gulping.”

“And you didn’t think, ‘hmm, maybe I’m a lesbian’?” Devra challenged.

“My mind doesn’t use those words.”

Running her hand through Priti’s long hair, Devra started to say something but stopped herself. She didn’t want to risk another mini-argument or pouting session.

“You’re the one who’s so insistent upon the individual’s right to self-determination and all that,” Priti continued. “So why should you get to choose what I call myself? That’s up to me.”

After consideration through squinted eyes and pursed lips, Devra realized the truth of Priti’s words. “You’re right. I’m sorry, kid.”

“Just like it’s up to you not to call me ‘kid,’” Priti scolded lightly, cuddling in under the covers.

A moment passed -- a moment of breathing in the scent of her girlfriend’s hair, of touching Priti’s warm flesh and making her moan, of kissing her bee-stung lips -- before Devra settled back against the pillows. “Out of curiosity, how would you identify?”

Priti took so long to respond that the simple, “What?” she uttered couldn’t possibly have indicated she hadn’t heard the question. She was obviously buying time.

“If somebody on the street asked you, ‘What is your sexual orientation?’ how would you respond?”

“Someone on the street?” Priti repeated with an air of insecurity.

“Fine, then, if I asked you...”

Devra wasn’t going to push for the answer she wanted to hear. Whatever Priti’s response, it would be a bold statement. I am statements were more than just words in the air; they were assertions of Self. They were defining moments. Devra was prepared to wait for an answer, and she did wait, even as Priti’s breath grew deep and slow.

“You don’t have to answer right away,” Devra purred, kissing her hair.

But Priti didn’t offer any response. She’d fallen fast asleep.

End

Propositioning Pollyanna

Penelope Friday

Arsenal were all over West Brom -- the better football team (or, if you like, ‘soccer team,’ as those strange people in the States call it) by a country mile. If it had been done on points, like boxing, it would’ve been Arsenal three hundred million, West Brom nil. And then, West Brom went with a sudden breakaway, and the referee was blowing his whistle to give them a goal. A goal! With their number ten half a mile off-side! There was a concerted groan from all of us in the Black Griffin, overlaid by one voice’s indignant cry.

“Don’t be ridiculous, ref -- how was he not interfering with play? He was standing directly in front of the goalie!”

I twisted ‘round to look for the source of the voice. Sexual equality be buggered, it wasn’t often I met a girl who knew her Arsene from her Wenger. (Results, obviously. Arsene when we were winning, Wenger when things weren’t so good.) Though to be fair, blokes who do are quite thin on the ground, too. They always think they know it all, but start going into the details of the fifty match unbeaten run a few years back and they start to mumble and shuffle off. So, in the circs, it wasn’t exactly surprising that I immediately started looking about for this fount of football knowledge. Didn’t take long to spot her, if you’ll excuse the understatement of the year. She was a couple of tables behind me, and she was wearing a very long, bright pink (and I mean bright pink) satin skirt, a sparkly purple top, and earrings about the size of her head, which, by the way, was covered in long, curly blonde hair. Bloody hell, I hadn’t expected to find a footballing brain in the shape of Barbie. I looked again and clocked the wheelchair. Weirder and weirder. Barbie goes to hospital.

The half time whistle blew, and shrugging, I decided to give Barbie the benefit of the doubt. There was a stampede for the bar, more reminiscent of one of those TV animal shows -- you know, when everything heads for the watering hole. Which, to be fair, was a pretty accurate description of what was going on. As I made my way in the same general direction, I stopped by Barbie’s table. The guy she’d been sitting with -- presumably her boyfriend -- had joined the rush (auditioning for a part as elephant number five?), so she was alone for a second.

“Hey. Fellow Arsenal fan?”

She smiled up at me, a little sheepishly. She had the sort of smile you usually only see on models and dolls, too. “Just a bit. Does it show? Matt’s been teasing me about my habit of yelling at the television -- usually I watch matches at home, where it doesn’t matter how loudly I complain. I kind of forgot I was in public. Polly, by the way.”

Polly? Short for Pollyanna? Next, she was going to start telling me to look on the bright side, it had been near the end of the first half that Albion had scored, rather than just before the end of the match. She was probably in the wheelchair thanks to saving a friend from a terrible accident.

“Leigh,” I said.

“I said to Matt,” (did she have to keep bringing the boyfriend into the conversation? Not that I was intending to date Pollyanna, but it would’ve been nice to feel I had a chance) “that Fabregas would just have to score a hat-trick in the second half. Don’t you think he’s been playing an awful lot better this season? The captaincy’s done him so much good.”

Geez, I hadn’t been too far wrong with the Pollyanna nickname. “Mind if I sit down a mo?” I asked, gesturing at the boyfriend’s chair.

“Be my guest. Mind if I don’t stand up?” she said laughingly, gesturing at her own.

“Temporary or permanent? The wheelchair situation, I mean,” I asked, before I could stop myself. Tact never was my strong point.

“Oh, permanent,” she said decisively. “You don’t think I’d have a chair as nice as this if it was just a temporary thing? Do you know how much the damn things cost?” She stopped, and looked over at me ruefully. “Well, I expect you don’t. Sorry. I’ll save the rant for another day.”

“Serves me right for asking a stupid question. I guess you get that a lot?”

“Not at all.” Polly smiled. “Most people don’t like to mention it: the chair’s like the elephant in the room -- except a lot more useful.” I grinned, and didn’t tell her I’d been comparing the boyfriend to an elephant not that much time ago. “It’s easier to get through the door, fortunately, too. Want a drink?”

“Yeah, I was just going to the bar.” I half-stood.

“Matt’s already there. What are you drinking?”

“Half of Heinekken, if poss.”

“Lightweight,” she teased. Then she raised her voice. She had proved nicely earlier that she could manage quite a bellow when she wanted. “Matt! Half of Heinekken as well, okay?” The boyfriend, still a way away from getting served (the elephants had beaten him to it, which figured), gave her the thumbs up, and she turned back to me. “What do you think of the match so far, then? Other than the goal, that is. Not,” she added, apparently unable to stop herself, “that it was a goal.”

“Oh, how unfair was that?” I agreed. “I was with you all the way. Wasn’t it Bill Shankley who said ‘if he’s not interfering with play, what’s he doing on the pitch?’ Seriously, though, we ought to be stuffing this lot. It’s not like they’re Barcelona or something, they’re the Boing Boing Baggies.”

“I always think,” Polly said regretfully, “that they ought to play in pink and white stripes.”

I gave her a bit of a look. I’d thought she was sound on football, but if she was going to sit around commenting on the strips and no doubt having a list of her top ten best looking footballers, I was out of here. She was probably only watching because the boyfriend liked it. “Yeah?”

“It always makes me think of Bagpuss. A bouncing Bagpuss, of course.”

Okay, this was getting surreal. A Barbie girl in a wheelchair who knew her football and thought West Brom were like a kids’ TV character. Mind you, it was quite an image. I had a feeling that whenever I saw the Baggies in action in the future, I would have the bouncing Bagpuss in my mind.

“Thanks for that,” I said dryly. “By the way, does your boyfriend mind being ordered to get people drinks like that?”

“Who?” Polly looked confused. “What, do you mean Matt? He’s my brother -- younger brother, so I’ve been ordering him about since the day he was born,” she said with a grin.

“Not your boyfriend?” Stupid question, when I thought about it, but it was out by then.

“Definitely not. Why, are you interested?”

“No other boyfriend?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“No boyfriend,” she confirmed.

“Straight, though?” She shook her head. “Gay?”

Polly shook her head again, mischievously. “Bi.” She must have seen the withdrawal in my expression, because she continued, “No, not bi-curious. Bi. I go for guys or girls.” She paused. “Um, but not my brother. I don’t do incest.”

I laughed. She sat there, looking so demure, and then came out with lines like that. I was beginning to like Pollyanna. And, actually, to notice that she had a bloody gorgeous figure. It was difficult to gauge her height when she was sitting down, but the purple top did nothing to conceal the absolutely stunning breasts she had. And I was certain it was natural, not ‘assisted,’ if you get me. She really did have tits to bury your face into. Which, of course, I was not going to do in the middle of a pub, tempted or not. Well, probably I wasn’t...

I got another glimpse into her strange world when Matt came back carrying a pint and a half of lager and a glass of lemonade. He dumped them in the middle of the table.

“Ta,” I said, reaching out for the half.

“Thanks,” said Polly.

Okay, I admit it. I’d assumed (yeah, yeah, ass of u and me, I know) that she’d be the lemonade and he’d be the pint. I should’ve had her measure by now, ‘cause of course she took up the pint glass. Matt picked up the final drink and leaned against the wall with his lemonade in hand.

“Oh, God, sorry,” I said, belatedly realizing I’d nicked his seat, and getting up hastily. “And how much do I owe you for the half?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said cheerfully. “And don’t go away. Polly has been berating me for my lack of interest in the beautiful game -- if you can swap tips of ‘a hundred and one things you didn’t know about Arsenal’ you’ll be doing me a favor. Poll, mind if I go and talk to Lily? She’s about as thrilled by the whole thing as I am, but Rick will insist on trying to educate her, and the poor girl doesn’t know how to say she doesn’t give a toss. Of course,” he added provocatively, “she’s only a girl after all.”

“Be gone!” Polly said dramatically, flinging an arm out and nearly taking her pint out with it. “Oops. Yes, be gone and never darken these doors, etcetera, etcetera, Matt. You’re a hopeless case, you know.”

“I know.” He gave her a grin, and I suddenly saw the similarity between the two of them. “Thankfully, so do you. For goodness sake, never date someone who isn’t as in love with Arsenal as you are. Lil’s had so many facts and figures poured into her that they’re coming out of her ears. And she never gets them the right way round, anyway -- do tell, Sis; was it Nicholas Anelka who was sold for the biggest profit by Wenger, or was it Fabregas?”

I winced.

“Cesc Fabregas’s been playing for us in this game, you idiot,” said Polly, and as Matt disappeared, she added, “He knows perfectly well, you know, but he can’t resist teasing.”

“More a case of ‘a hundred and one things you didn’t want to know about Arsenal’?”

“Well, he did offer to bring me,” Polly said. “Not that I need ‘bringing,’ obviously, though a bit of company is appreciated, even when it is my brother. But I think it’s more that he’s got a crush on Kate behind the bar, to be honest. Mind you, so have I.”

So had I, too. Kate was considerably more my style than Pollyanna -- big combat boots, dreadlocks, and a leaping dolphin tattoo had it every time over pretty, fluffy femmes. At least, they always had done in the past. Not that I was particularly butch myself. Sure, shortish hair and jeans, but that’s standard in most women these days. You start categorizing people as butch lesbos on the strength of that, the straight world would disintegrate.

“Yeah,” I said absently, wondering why I was more interested in looking at Polly than at Kate despite everything.

“Have I shocked you?” Polly asked, her gaze suddenly very direct on my face. “I’m in a wheelchair, so I shouldn’t have sexual fantasies?”

While I quite wanted to hear about the nature of her sexual fantasies about Kate (hey, we could compare notes, right?), there was one thing I needed to put straight first. “Hey, Pollyanna, I’m the girl who reckoned Matt was your boyfriend, remember? And, no, I didn’t anticipate it was limited to hand holding under the table.”

She laughed. “What did you just call me?”

Oh, shit. Fell into that one, then. “Um... Oops?”

She gave me a little poke. “Did Pollyanna drink pints?” she asked. “Now that’s something I didn’t see in the Disney version. You’ll be telling me she smoked pot and had it off with guys in the bushes next!”

She was outrageous. I liked it. “I wouldn’t shatter your illusions that much, Pollyanna. Though,” I added, unable to resist, “apparently she had fantasies about barmaids...”

Her smile was wicked. “Why, want to hear about them?”

“Wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course,” she said provocatively, “I could also tell you the ones I’m having about a dark-haired lass wearing an extremely nicely-fitting pair of black jeans.”

Our eyes met. I knew precisely what Polly was suggesting, and she knew I did. I felt the smile curve the corners of my lips.

“Be my guest.”

“Well,” she drawled, lowering her voice a little so that she didn’t broadcast to the entire pub, “let’s see.” She looked me up and down. “That hair cut -- you know, it just leaves bits of your neck visible. I think I might have a vampire complex, because I think I’d rather like to have my mouth by your neck -- kissing, certainly, but I’m thinking a bit of nibbling, and maybe even biting might go on.” She smiled sidelong at me. “Do you like being bitten, Leigh?”

“Depends who’s doing it,” I said, but the throbbing between my legs told me that I wouldn’t mind at all if Pollyanna went through with her suggestions. In fact, I suspected I’d do all I could to encourage her.

“You know,” Polly added, “it’s seeing the tail of Kate’s dolphin disappear behind the sleeve of her top that does it for me.” (Kate was wearing a short sleeved corset-like top, and looked hotter than hell, which made me wonder why it was Pollyanna whom I was longing to snog.) Polly looked at me thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose you have any tatts, Leigh?”

As it happened, I did. But the star on my right shoulder was something I kept very private. It had a special meaning for me, my only memory of my family. My mother, telling me I was her star-in-the-night. My dad, one dark winter night, pointing out Orion to a fat-legged toddler who had grown into football-loving Leigh. Orion would’ve been tops at football. I know it.

“Just one,” I said, and had a weird vision of Polly slipping my top off my shoulder and pressing her mouth against the five pointed star. I’d never liked it when girlfriends of the past had done it, yet now -- suddenly -- I found I wanted to share it with Pollyanna. “Here,” I said, shrugging my top aside so that the star was visible.

Polly was silent. Absolutely silent. Then, very gently, she ran one finger along the points of the star.

“That’s different,” she murmured, and there was this strange note in her voice which shivered through me, somehow.

“Different?”

“Special,” she said. Then she gave me a flirty glance, deliberately changing the mood. “The football’s about to start again, and I think you’ve lost your original seat. Matt’ll want his back, but you know the thing about this wheelchair?” She looked expectantly at me, but I shook my head. “It’s quite amazing, you know,” she said softly, “but when it’s the right person, it’s just big enough for two.”

She looked delicate, Pollyanna, and I reckoned if I lumped my whole weight on her she’d break. But she read my mind. Putting one arm around my neck and pulling me towards her, she snogged me fair, full and firm. By the time she’d finished, I’d probably’ve done anything she asked. But what she asked wasn’t much.

“Try me,” she said, patting her lap invitingly.

I tried her. It worked. I might not have got my head buried in her breasts, but I sure as hell made sure my hands had a good old feel. And Polly didn’t complain -- anything but. Her head fell back and she practically purred with encouragement. If her brother hadn’t been somewhere around, I might’ve taken her there and then, but there’s something about an audience that isn’t my thing. Turned out we were copping more glances than the football, so we turned our attention back to that and waited for a more private moment.

Oh, and by the way? Arsenal won, 3:1. A hat-trick from Fabregas.

* * *

I’d never really anticipated dating someone in a wheelchair. It’s not that I’d written it off on a list of “NOs” -- no guys, no smokers, no wheelchairs -- just that, well, most of the people you meet in the world don’t come complete with their own set of personal wheels. And it takes some getting used to. I mean, when I leaned over to kiss someone, I wasn’t used to having the arm of a wheelchair poke me in the stomach. When Pollyanna and I walked down the street... well, ‘we’ didn’t walk, I did, and Polly wheeled herself beside me, about a yard beneath my eye level. We couldn’t hold hands, because Polly needed both hands to maneuver her wheelchair. Occasionally, I’d push her chair, and I immediately became Nice Person Number One -- the sort who got asked the time, or to exchange two fifties for a pound coin. I was out with a girl in a wheelchair: I must be trustable. Or at the very least, easy to impose upon.

“Haven’t you ever had the urge to rob a bank or something?” I asked her. “Doesn’t it drive you absolutely nuts being The Disabled Person?”

Polly tilted to her head to one side for a few seconds as if considering the matter. “Well...” she said. “Yes, of course it does, you idiot. I’m used to it, because I can’t remember anything else, whereas for you it’s new and weird, but I think I could fairly say that it drives me absolutely nuts.”

Polly had a habit of using my exact words in her own, very posh, tones. I knew perfectly well that she meant it as a piss take -- or, as Pollyanna would have it, “to sound completely ridiculous.” In saying that she “couldn’t remember” anything else, she was also telling the exact truth. Her left leg had been paralyzed after she got polio -- which, frankly, I didn’t hadn’t even known still existed these days -- as a baby. Apparently she’d managed an amazing run of bad luck involving being too ill to have the vaccine at the appropriate time, followed by catching polio (or whatever you did with it) before they’d had time to re-schedule the jab. Even then, Polly said, most cases didn’t end up with paralysis. “I was just particularly lucky,” she said ironically.

The first time she showed me her leg, it was a bit of a shock. I don’t know, somehow I’d expected it to look okay, even if she couldn’t use it. Especially with Polly being so damn gorgeous everywhere else. But it wasn’t. It was kind of... withered, I guess. Shrunken. It didn’t seem to go with the rest of her. She saw my expression and smiled.

“You see? There’s good reason for my long skirts!”

That was as near as she got to regret for all she’d been through. In a way, I felt she did deserve the Pollyanna tag: I regularly got angry that she was treated as if she had a mental as well as a physical disability, and when she told me about the circs surrounding her getting ill, I felt furious with the unfairness. Polly, however, just shrugged.

“It’s one of those things, isn’t it?” she said. “I could sit here and grump about it, or I could get on with life. I mean, I could be dead and I’m not. Lucky me.”

“Pollyanna!” I retorted, and she laughed.

I wondered, at first, what it would be like going to bed with her, whether the paralyzed leg would make a big difference. I know, I know, you’re not supposed to think that, but I bet everyone does, just a little. I wasn’t bothered, but I was a bit hesitant. I knew that Polly was, too; when I taxed her with it, she blushed.

“It’s not precisely beautiful,” she said. I guess for someone as beautiful Polly, it made a big difference. “And...” She took a long swig of her drink (we were at her place, sharing a bottle of wine). “Well, I never have.”

“Never have what?” I asked, being uncommonly thick.

She gave me A Look. “Not a whole lot of people fancy dating girls in chairs,” she said patiently. “In fact, to put it bluntly, two people before you -- one guy, and one girl. I got as far as kissing in both relationships, but no further. Of course,” she said, her teasing smile coming out, “I still need plenty of practice at the kissing thing...”

I might be thick, but I can take a hint as big as a mountain. I leaned over and kissed her, the arm of the wheelchair doing its usual job of jabbing me in the stomach.

“Why don’t you come to bed?” I suggested.

Polly could and did get around on crutches in her house, though she tended to stick to her chair. When I pointed this out to her, she gave her usual shrug. “I forget,” she said. “The chair’s so much part of me -- which,” she added thoughtfully, “is why I don’t like people touching it without asking: it feels as if they’re doing it to me -- that I don’t always remember to get out.”

Now, however, she picked up the crutches to lever herself up and into the bedroom. I’d been in there with her before, and it was very Polly. On the face of it, very ‘pretty-pretty,’ but when you looked deeper there was a lot going on -- most of which was contradictory. Her Arsenal team photo (signed, of course) was pinned on the wall next to a purple-and-blue seascape; the flowers on one end of her windowsill were challenged by the cactus down the other end. I turned away from the room and looked at her. Her blonde hair was curling around her face; she was wearing a long velvet-y green dress and some ridiculously sparkly jewelry. Not my style at all -- and yet I loved her. Weird, really. But then, so was Polly. I ran a hand through her curls, smoothed my fingers across her cheekbone.

“Hey, Pollyanna,” I said softly.

She raised her head to mine and kissed me gently on the lips, then a little more firmly. I stroked my hand over her shoulder and down toward where the swell of her breasts lay under the dress. I’ve always been keen on tits, having nothing much to speak of in that direction myself, and Polly was definitely in a different class from me there. In response to me touching her, she snuggled closer in, putting an arm around my neck and pulling me into a thorough embrace. I’ve never really been much for cuddling, preferring to get on with the real business, if you know what I mean, but it was quite nice having Polly acting as a human-sized teddy-bear. Only with the stuffing much more interestingly arranged than in your average cuddly toy.

Apparently, however, Pollyanna was as keen on moving on further as I was; she put her hands on my shirt and unfastened the buttons with slightly clumsy fingers. Funny, I’d never have thought Polly would be clumsy, but I didn’t mind. Made a change to feel like there was something I could do better than her. Except for walking, of course. When she finished, I shrugged the shirt off my shoulders. I didn’t have a bra on, for obvious reasons, and I waited for the inevitable critique from my well-endowed girlfriend. They didn’t usually say it, my partners, but you could see it in their eyes.

“You’re gorgeous,” Polly said, though, looking at me with this kind of strange sort of admiration, and the funny thing was, with Pollyanna looking at me that way, I believed her. At first, her eyes were on the star on my shoulder. Once more, she traced its pattern with her fingers. Somehow she knew what it meant to me, though I’d never told her why. But then she bent her head and kissed each breast in turn, first the so-called curves at the top, then the nipples. Size can’t be everything, because it felt just amazing. As far as I was concerned, Polly could’ve kept on kissing them all night and she seemed to feel the same way, too. Every so often, she looked back up at me, as if she could hardly believe that this was happening. “Leigh,” she said. “You’re gorgeous.”

“I’m really not,” I said, not being exactly used to taking compliments, but Polly only laughed at me.

“Well, I fancy you,” she said.

“That’s fortunate. I’d be buggered if you didn’t, now wouldn’t I?” I retorted. “Or rather, not buggered -- except we’re not blokes and I don’t expect there’s a dildo to hand. Or is there?” If there was, I knew a thing or two we could get up to, but I was just as happy to manage without...

“Shut up,” said Polly, kissing me to make sure I did what I was told.

It worked, too. I was quite happy to shut up and be snogged. However, there was something else I wanted, too.

“My turn now,” I said, pulling at the hem of her dress to drag it up.

Polly gave a wriggle to help me get it over her arse, but when I’d got it off her, she blushed a bit. I didn’t know anyone still did that these days.

“I feel ever so naked, Leigh,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest self-mockingly.

“Not enough,” I teased, pulling open her unresisting arms and running my fingers over her silky bra, teasing her nipples until they stood out proudly beneath the thin material. Her knickers were of the same deep green satin as the bra, I noticed. That was very Pollyanna -- even when I did bother with a bra, it was pretty much whatever I pulled out of a drawer. I’d always thought it was silly to make a fuss about something most people wouldn’t even see, but somehow it looked right on Polly.

“I wasn’t complaining about being naked,” she whispered, nibbling the top of my ear.

“I was, about the ‘not enough,’” I said. “Nice undies, Pollyanna, but even nicer off.”

“You’d better do something about it, then,” she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice.

Reckoning that since Polly hadn’t done this before I ought to give her something to remember, I kissed my way down her body, licking a path over her belly and biting her gently on the inside of her thighs. I’d kind of thought she might taste of flowers or something, but Pollyanna never did what I expected of her. She was salty and smooth and very, very, real. In a good way. She lay back contentedly as I grabbed her knickers with my teeth and pulled them over her legs. It was a bit odd, the way one leg could move and the other just lay there waiting to be prodded out of the way, but it was just like anything else, really -- I had non-existent tits, Pollyanna had a leg that didn’t work.

And just as Polly had been quite encouraging about my breasts, I found myself thinking that even her wasted leg was gorgeous, because it was Polly’s. She looked like she wanted to hide it away -- under the bedclothes if necessary -- but I wasn’t having that. I wanted to make love to all of Polly, to show her that she was bloody attractive just the way she was. I kept one hand on her bad leg, stroking it, to make sure she couldn’t pull the covers over it. Between us, we managed to get her out of her kit, which, as I told her, I’d been waiting to do for quite a while, and then I got busy.

Loads of people say I’m really mouthy at any time, but when it comes to sex, I reckon being good with your mouth is a pretty useful talent. Can’t say I’m up there with the sexy talk -- I tried it once, felt like a right idiot -- but when it comes to bringing someone off, I’m not half bad. Anyway, Polly didn’t seem to have any complaints, seeing as she was making these incredible little moan-y noises that really did it for me. I mean, I know you’re probably supposed to concentrate on one thing at a time, but I couldn’t help having one of my hands between my own legs, even as I was busy on her. There was her clit to play with, of course, but I also quite liked having my tongue deep inside her -- and so did she. Her Polly-taste was even stronger here: female and sensual. She came all of a sudden, giving this long gasping breath, and then when she was breathing fairly normally again, she dragged me up beside her.

“You’re still in jeans,” she pointed out. “Not fair.”

“You’d better do something about it, then,” I mocked.

Her eyes lit up with the challenge. “Okay.”

Polly wasn’t bad at the undressing bit; her fingers were a bit fumbly, but I wasn’t sure whether that was accidental or a good excuse to cop a feel. When I asked her, she just grinned at me wickedly.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” When I was lying there naked, though, she had a bit of a crisis of confidence. “I won’t be as good as you,” she said, her hand resting uncertainly on my belly.

I grinned, seeing an opportunity to get my own back. “Most people aren’t.”

She gave me a shove, but I reckon it helped her get over her nerves. Turned out she shouldn’t have had any -- she could’ve told me she’d had plenty of girls before me and I’d have believed her. Frankly, after the first minute or so, I didn’t give a damn what or who she’d done before in her life, because she was doing me more than well enough. To start with, Pollyanna had this great look of concentration on her face, like she was learning to drive or something. It was kind of cute, too, her face being all serious while her hands ran over my body with eager anticipation.

Polly was a natural -- she seemed to know all the places to touch, all the range of touches. I guess you could say she knew all about slap and tickle. She also -- and this shouldn’t have surprised me -- was an expert in teasing me ‘til I wanted to scream out, “Just fuck me now!” But she knew when to stop teasing, too, and to get on with the action. Soon, she was lying beside me, propped up on one arm with the other hand diving inside me, her breasts jiggling like they were begging to be sucked -- something that I was more than willing to do for her (okay, and for me.) And by that time, her face was bloody amazing. The seriousness was gone, and instead... well, you know when you say “her face was a picture”? I’ll tell you what, you’d have known from Pollyanna’s face alone that it was a porno picture. Hot didn’t cover it. She seemed to be having as much pleasure out of giving as I was from getting. Mind you, pretty soon after that, I stopped thinking about anything but me, and what she was doing. Did I mention ‘amazing’?

I came twice and she came three times. She told me she’d save my next one for later. Later sounded good to me.

Afterward, we went down to the Black Griffin and watched Arsenal play Liverpool. Arsenal scored six. Turns out Pollyanna’s good at everything.

Leila

Elizabeth Reeve

I had assumed that Lesbians in Literature would be an easy A. I’m a lesbian, I like to read, and I needed another humanities course to fill the last of my general education requirements. But after spending three nights in a row at the library trying to find sources for my term paper, I was starting to wish I had chosen a different class.

I was staring at the catalog search screen for the fiftieth time, trying to figure out where I’d gone wrong with my keywords, when I heard a soft, husky voice. “You look like you need help.”

I looked up. There was a woman standing behind me, with one eyebrow raised. She had gorgeous blonde hair hanging in soft, shiny waves down past her shoulders. When I was a kid, I had desperately wished I was blonde, but my mother never let me bleach my hair. I finally tried it my first year of college, and discovered that I actually preferred myself as a brunette. Turns out I didn’t want to be blonde so much as I wanted to sleep with blondes. I still haven’t brought that one up with Mom yet.

I realized I was staring. “I’m sorry,” I stammered. “You startled me. I thought I was alone up here.”

“The library’s never really empty,” she said mildly. Her lips quirked at one corner, like her eyebrow. “What are you looking for?”

“Vampires.” Both her eyebrows were raised now, and I blushed, quickly adding, “I mean, vampire stories. And analysis. I’m doing a paper for a class, on Carmilla, by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu. Do you know it?”

“Ah, Carmilla. Of course.” The woman nodded, and leaned past me to use the keyboard, her body curving around mine. Her perfume surrounded me, something exotic and floral with just a hint of musk, and one thick lock of her hair tumbled down over her shoulder and brushed the side of my face. I closed my eyes and breathed her in deeply, as though her scent could fill my body.

I was suddenly, exquisitely conscious of my own breasts, their weight, the way they were cradled in my bra. I was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, and under that the plainest, most boring underwear possible, but I was keenly aware of the texture of the stretch-cotton weave of my bra against my nipples, of the way the seam of my jeans rested almost-but-not-quite over my clitoris.

“There you are,” the woman said.

My eyes snapped open, and I blinked a few times, embarrassed. Here was this stranger being so helpful, and I was sitting there getting wet over her perfume.

Well, not just her perfume. Her, with her pale hair, full, red-painted lips, and bright green eyes. Green eyes with elegant eyebrows above them, rising again as she waited for me to respond to her, instead of staring like a jerk.

“Thanks,” I said. I made myself look away from her, and back to the screen. It was full of information now, titles and authors and call numbers ready for my perusal. I grinned. “Really, thanks so much. I appreciate your help, Ms…?”

“Call me Leila,” she said, offering her hand.

I shook it. “I’m Megan.”

“Megan.” The handshake was lasting a long time. “You have beautiful skin.”

My eyes widened with surprise, just as though I hadn’t been cataloging all of her gorgeous features in my own pervy mind, and I dropped her hand. “I, uh. I should check some of these out and head home before it gets any later.”

“Of course,” Leila said. “Good luck with your paper.”

I couldn’t help it. I stared some more as she walked away.

* * *

That night, I dreamed. I was in my room, in my bed, wearing a sheer, white nightgown that was nothing like the boxers and t-shirt that I remembered putting on. The gown shifted as I sat up, sliding coolly across my skin, and I marveled at how different my bedroom could look by candlelight. I didn’t even own any candles. The flames flickered as a breeze played through the room, and I looked to the open window and the woman silhouetted there against the moonlight.

“Leila,” I said.

Her laughter was low and throaty. “Yes. May I come in?”

“Yes.” She meant into my room, obviously, but I parted my knees as I nodded my acceptance, making further invitation.

She crossed the room quickly, though she didn’t seem to hurry. She was so graceful. She knelt between my thighs and kissed me, her fingers stroking against my face, my neck, pushing at the straps of my nightgown until it slid down over my shoulders, baring my breasts. I moaned as she released my lips, bending her head to lap at the skin of my throat. She pressed a kiss onto my clavicle and then ran her tongue between my breasts before turning to capture one nipple delicately between her teeth. She looked up at me, watching my face as she slowly, tenderly bit down.

And I woke up, sweating, with my hand between my thighs.

* * *

I didn’t really need any more sources for my term paper, but I went back to the library that weekend anyway. I browsed the stacks for a while, starting on the fifth floor, where I’d been when Leila had approached me the first time. There was no sign of her. I killed an hour, nearly two, picking books up and flipping through them before putting them back on their shelves. I wasn’t really looking at any of them, my eyes sliding right over blocks of text and illustrations alike, scanning the aisles as I walked for a hint of shining hair.

I’d given up and decided to go home, and then maybe out to a bar or something like a normal college student, when I heard her voice.

“Megan. Hunting for vampires again?”

I spun around, nearly dropping the latest book I’d been not-looking at. “No.” I shook my head, and then nodded. “I mean, yes.”

She looked at me, probably waiting for me to say something sensible.

“I mean, I have enough material for my paper. And thank you again, by the way. For your help with that. But I wanted to...” Ask you out. “Know more. For myself.”

“A thirst like that should be rewarded,” Leila said, smiling slowly. “Let me help you.”

I smiled back, and said, “Please.”

“What do you want to know?”

I said the first thing that came to mind. “Dreams. In the story. Laura has dreams about Carmilla, and that’s where some of the, uh, eroticism happens. The metaphorical penetration and so on.”

“Not entirely metaphorical,” Leila pointed out. “And, of course, lesbian sexuality isn’t necessarily dependent on penetration.”

I grinned. This was what I was writing my paper about, and I didn’t mind having a chance to show off a little at all. “Right, no, but it was written in 1872, and by a man, and most of the ‘action,’ as it were, is veiled references. Lots of hand-holding standing in for heavy petting, that kind of thing.”

Leila laughed. “I like the way you phrased that. But it sounds like you’ve taken everything you need from the story already.”

“No,” I said quickly. “I still want, uh...” You. “More of the background. Context. Carmilla was one of the very first vampire stories as we recognize them now, so the ideas about what vampirism is had to come from somewhere else. Like, the thing with the dreams. That wasn’t part of the folkloric background, was it?”

“Ah, what you want is succubi, I think,” Leila said, nodding decisively. She led the way toward one of the computers located near the elevators, and bent to type some information into the keyword search bar.

I tried not to stare at her hips and ass as she walked, and mostly failed. Her waist wasn’t narrow, exactly, but it was trim, and her hips were lush and full, her ass rounded above thighs that I could see were shapely under the thin material of her skirt as it pulled against her legs. When she leaned down to type, I wanted to step up close behind her, press my body against hers, feel a little of what it might be like to do her from behind with a strap-on.

The penetration I wanted definitely wasn’t metaphorical.

But I wanted so much more than that. I wanted to taste her on my tongue, listen to her scream her climax under my mouth, feel her legs trembling where they’d rest hooked over my shoulders. I wanted to suck and lick her tits while she rode my thigh.

My nipples were hard, rubbing against my bra -- lace, today, I’d been feeling sexy -- and I could feel the dampness of my satin panties sliding against my labia as I shifted my weight.

I wanted to do it right then and there, press myself against her back and reach around to caress her breasts, offer to climb under her skirt and go down on her where we stood, next to the photocopiers.

“Here’s what you want,” she said, and I almost said, yes, yes, I want it, take off your blouse.

She was gesturing at the computer screen, of course. I could feel my face getting hot, even as my panties got wetter and wetter. There was no way I could go through with asking her out now.

But there was a nice, long list of titles. Maybe I’d be able to say I needed help finding some of them, in a day or two. It would give me an excuse to seek her out again, and a chance to compose myself a little before my next attempt. Right that minute, I needed to rush home and give my best dildo a workout.

* * *

I dreamed again. Of course I did. Carmilla, and the reading on succubi that I’d done, even though I didn’t need to, and Leila, gorgeous Leila, were a heady combination.

This time, it started with a cat, a regal feline almost the size of a panther, but tawny gold and with intelligent, bright green eyes. She walked straight through my closed bedroom door, and I watched her do it from where I lay on the bed, wearing a silk teddy the like of which I’d never seen before, much less owned.

I examined myself curiously. The cream-colored silk was pale enough that the pink areolae of my nipples showed through as dark shadows. I pinched one through the fabric and shivered at the sensation. Lace edged the lingerie and rubbed against the tops of my breasts and my inner thighs in a tantalizing way as I moved on the bed, shifting to give the cat room when she jumped up beside me.

“Leila,” I said. “This is taking the references to Carmilla almost too seriously, don’t you think?”

The cat purred, a deep rumbling that seemed to move through my body, radiating out from my clit like the waves from my favorite bullet vibe. She rubbed her face against my knee, pushed her broad head between my thighs and lapped at my cunt through the silk of the teddy. Her rough tongue over the silk felt amazing, but I put one hand between her velvety ears and pushed her away.

“This is too weird for me if you’re a cat,” I said. “I mean, I know you’re not, but it’s just...”

Leila’s husky laugh filled the room before she’d finished changing shape. “Is this better?” she asked, crouched between my legs and reaching out to pet the wet silk above my clitoris with her fingertips.

“Fuck, yes.” I moaned as she touched me, throwing my head back and reveling in the sensation. Ever since the early days of exploring my own sexuality, I’d always wanted to be the more active, dominant partner. I wore the silicon cock, metaphorical and otherwise, getting half of my pleasure from giving it to the other woman, watching her come apart under me.

But there was something about dream-Leila that made me want to lie back and take it. Be the one seduced. Let her drive.

“Fuck me,” I said. “Take me.”

She laughed again, her mouth pressed to my thigh, and the vibration felt like the big cat’s purring. “Ask me properly, really ask me, and I will.”

I looked down at her and opened my mouth, wanting to beg, wanting to know what “properly” meant.

And woke up.

* * *

I went back to the library the next day, but stopped at the help desk instead of taking the elevator straight up to the fifth floor. The work-study student sitting behind the desk was a cute redhead with dimples that flashed when she smiled, but I couldn’t have cared less.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her voice disappointingly average.

“Is Leila working today?”

She looked at me blankly. “Leila?”

The tiny hairs on the back of my neck prickled. The dreams had felt so real, even -- no, especially -- the parts that couldn’t be. Leila biting my breast, taking the form of a cat... I had teased her about adhering too closely to Carmilla’s formula. But it wasn’t just because it was a story I was thinking about a lot lately, was it?

I remembered something from the reading I’d been doing, about how dreams in vampire narratives were a way of making the sexual aspects of the stories “safe.” If the heroine thought she was dreaming, nothing was her fault. As long as she was passively accepting the vampire’s attention, she was still virginal, still a good, presumably heterosexual girl. She wasn’t in control. It didn’t count. It wasn’t real.

As long as she told herself they were just dreams.

I thought I knew, then, how the conversation with the girl at the help desk was going to end. But I kept going. “Yes, Leila. Tall, blonde... She’s been helping me with a paper.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” the girl said. “But let me check the shift list, could just be someone I haven’t met yet.”

She typed some information into her terminal, then frowned and entered it again before looking up at me and shaking her head. “I’m sorry, there’s no Leila here. Could it be Lilly? There’s a Lilly, but she’s not blonde.”

“Sorry.” I made myself smile. “I must have misunderstood something. Thanks for your help.”

I walked away, the fake smile straining my cheeks until they ached. Of course she wasn’t on the shift list. She probably wasn’t on any list. Oh, it was tempting to assume that she just wasn’t a librarian. She could be some kind of book enthusiast who got her kicks by helping students with their research papers, maybe. But I knew that wasn’t it.

And I knew I wanted to see her again anyway.

* * *

In the dream, I was naked, and Leila wore red. The color blazed against her pale skin and hair, made her painted lips seem even fuller and more kissable. So I kissed her. Pulled her down onto the bed beside me and rolled her over, pinned her with my body stretched over hers.

She laughed, delighted, and I kissed her again and again, all over her face, her neck, the tops of her breasts where they were exposed by the gauzy material of her camisole. She bent one knee, slipping her bare thigh between my legs, and I rocked down onto it, ground myself against her even as I slid one hand beneath the waistband of her panties. She was slick under my fingertips, parting easily before me as I dipped inside.

“Leila,” I murmured against her hair. I slid two fingers inside her wet heat and pressed the heel of my palm over her clit. “Leila, Leila. Why me?”

She arched under me, panting, but her voice was steady when she answered. “You were the one who called for me, Megan. Not the other way around.”

Her answer made as much sense as anything else. I crooked my fingers inside her, seeking out her g-spot. “What do you want?”

“You,” she breathed.

I took my hand away from her long enough to strip her panties off and fumble in my bedside drawer for a fingertip vibe, and then I was on her again, in her again, fucking her with my fingers while my thumb buzzed over her clit. I licked and sucked at the skin between her breasts, tugged at the neckline of her camisole with my teeth. Her nipples were tight and hard, and I sucked one into my mouth, teased it with the tip of my tongue. Maybe I had called her. Maybe it was something I’d done without realizing it, some whispered desire. Hell, maybe it was the keyword searches. Whatever. It was her turn to cry out for me.

I sucked harder on her nipple, grazed it with my teeth before letting go and turning my attention to her other breast. I licked and nibbled, pressed open-mouthed kisses to her pale skin, and pushed her higher and higher with the hand between her legs.

Her thighs started to tremble, and her voice was shaky when she called my name. I left her breasts with a parting swipe of my tongue across both peaks, then kissed her lips. I stretched over her, covering her again, wanting to feel her against the length of my body.

Leila put her mouth to my throat, and I turned my head, bared my neck with a needy moan.

I could still feel her body clenching around my hand when I woke up.

* * *

I found her on the fifth floor, just after midnight. Her back was turned, and she was looking out the window. She left no reflection on the glass.

“Leila.”

She smiled when she turned. “Megan. Looking for vampires again?”

“Just one,” I said.

When she laughed, I saw her fangs.

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Table of Contents

For Better or Worse

Jodi Payne

Switching Sides

Beth Wylde

Love on the Line

Beth Wylde

For Love of Laura

Cassidy Ryan

If Only in Cranbury Park

Charlotte Dare

Part One

Part Two

Black and White

Shanna Germain

Incident at Shady Oaks

Sarah Colter

Hot for Teacher

Jodi Payne

Defining Moments

Giselle Renarde

Propositioning Pollyanna

Penelope Friday

Leila

Elizabeth Reeve