She outlined the scar tissue with a finger. “It resembles a heart, kinda.”
A powerful wave trembled down south. I tried to focus on something else but could only think that Gemma Mahoney, a woman who came from such a small town in Nebraska that when she uprooted they had to adjust the number on Keller’s billboard from population 407 to 406, was straddling me. Come on, Tegan. Get it together. You have a midterm tomorrow. This was not the time to pursue the thoughts I’d been having for weeks.
Right before winter break I had a fantastic and vivid dream about kissing and more with Gemma. When I woke, flushed and embarrassed, I brushed it aside. It wasn’t the first dream involving a girl, but it was the first with Gemma as the leading lady. Unlike those other dreams, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. When she’d given me a backrub during finals week, I knew why I couldn’t stop dwelling on the dream. I wanted her. Wanted her bad.
“Are you nervous for this weekend?” I asked in an attempt to distract myself. Gemma’s parents were coming to visit, and she planned to tell them she was a lesbian.
She stopped rubbing my lower back. “Terrified.”
En Vogue’s song “Free Your Mind” started playing. “Why don’t you play them this song and then break the news?” I said.
She laughed. “I can picture it. Mom. Dad. I’m black.”
I chuckled and twisted my hip to nudge her. “You’re such a dork!” We both grew quiet again. “Ya know, you don’t have to tell them during this visit. You can wait until you’re ready.”
“I know, but it’s such a shadow always looming over me. My parents are awesome, and it’s 1993. Besides, who’s to say I’ll ever feel totally ready.” Her fingers drummed up and down my back, letting loose hundreds of goose bumps.
I nodded. I tried to imagine telling my parents I wasn’t a virgin. That would not go over well, let alone compounding it with saying I was gay. My parents, who lived forty-five minutes south of Denver, a much more liberal city than Gemma’s entire state, would not be cool with it. I imagined Mother preaching Bible verses and dousing me with holy water to exorcise the evil lesbian spirits. My father wouldn’t say anything. He never did. His silence was deafening and hurt the most.
Gemma’s parents were sweet, although old-fashioned. Gemma was the first in the family to attend college. When I’d met her father, Cormac, one of the first things he asked was how my father tolerated me living so far away from home. I was only a two-hour drive away, half as far as Gemma’s commute. Her mother, Ava, wore clothes I was certain she’d sewn herself. We were nearing the millennium, but her folks definitely weren’t as hip as Gemma hoped. And part of me wondered if they had ever heard the term lesbian spoken aloud. The concept they most likely understood, but the word was probably never muttered in their home or town for that matter.
The image of Gemma naked flashed in my mind. Why’d I have to crash into the dorm room yesterday right when she’d dropped her towel?
Gemma didn’t talk right away about her sexuality, but after a “gin and tonic Thursday” party last October, she had confessed to me in private. The next morning, she was so embarrassed she couldn’t look me in the eye and said she’d understand if I wanted a new roommate. I told her straight away I didn’t have any issues with it. Actually... If only she knew, but how could she? I didn’t until recently. Not until that dream coaxed the flowering of my lesbian seed.
“I’m sure they’ll assume some bull dyke will get her hooks in me or something. It would be easier if I had a girlfriend to introduce them to.”
We laughed nervously over the image.
“I have an idea.” I wiggled out from under Gemma and sat down facing her on the tiny dorm bed. “Why don’t you tell them I’m your girlfriend? They like me. That might make it easier for them.” Was I being too obvious? Was I saying, “Gemma, I like you?” without really saying it? My mother always told me I loved to tap-dance around things instead of stating how I felt.
Gemma stared, wide-mouthed.
“Or n-not,” I stuttered and searched for the fragments of my ego on the carpet, which desperately needed vacuuming.
“You would do that? For me?”
Relieved, I placed a hand on my chest and said, “Of course. Wouldn’t you?”
She smiled awkwardly, and for the first time since meeting, I didn’t know what one of her expressions meant.
“Do you think they’d believe us?” she asked.
I brushed some loose strands of red hair off her shoulder. Gemma hated when hair got anywhere near her face. It was either in a ponytail or glued down with tons of hairspray. “Maybe we should practice.”
She squinted. “Practice being girlfriends? How?”
I avoided her eyes and watched the snow splatter the window. It was really coming down. Still not looking at Gemma, I said, “Maybe we should kiss.”
“Kiss?”
“Well, what if they want proof or something?” I hitched up my shoulders. That sounded asinine, but I couldn’t think of another way to get the ball rolling. Outright telling her I was attracted to her seemed too risky for me, Play-it-Safe Tegan.
“I doubt my parents will demand we kiss as proof.”
“It will help us.” I added, “With our roles, I mean.” Did she hear the desperation in my voice? Ever since that dream, I had wanted to feel her lips on mine.
Gemma swirled away as if a ship struck by a tsunami. “Uh, I don’t know.”
“What? Am I not your type?” I tried to feign offense and not show how much the thought wounded my heart.
During one of our recent late-night talks, Gemma had shown me a photo of her high school girlfriend, who in my opinion was as plain as a baked potato with no toppings. Of course, that could be my jealousy speaking. The girl dumped Gemma and started dating the quarterback their senior year because she wanted a normal life. When Gemma had arrived last August, she was still heartbroken.
“Who wouldn’t want to date you? You’re blonde, blue-eyed, and not to mention gorgeous. And you have a sexy gap between your front teeth like Madonna.” A blush infiltrated her face so easily, as if always there.
I was desperate to feel her lips on mine, but I feared Gemma would never make a move on a “straight” girl. Tegan, stop playing it safe all the time. “Come on. It’s just a kiss. One measly kiss.” I moved closer with each word. She didn’t pull away.
Our lips met briefly, and Gemma bolted back. Her eyes told me she didn’t want to stop but felt compelled to by our friendship. Every fiber of my body was pleading for more.
I grabbed her face with both hands, and our mouths met. Gemma kept her lips closed before hesitantly letting me in. I deepened the kiss. She responded. Her arms encircled me, and we kissed. Really kissed, not for practice but because we wanted to.
In my head, I kept chanting, “I’m kissing Gemma Mahoney!”
Her lips were much softer than the boys I’d kissed. And she didn’t immediately stick her tongue in my mouth and drool like Mitch did in the eighth grade. At first, Gemma let me take control, but then she delicately took the lead. There was passion, but not the aggressive passion I was used to with Josh, my last boyfriend. This kiss was quickly becoming the kiss to which I would compare all others.
Gemma snapped her head back. “What are we doing?”
I wanted to rap my knuckles on her forehead and say, “I thought it was obvious.” Instead I said, “Kissing. What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?”
“Yeah, of course I like it. But we shouldn’t.” Her voice was soft, and lust burned in her eyes.
“Have you thought about that? About me before?” I twirled the drawstring of her hoodie around a finger.
It was Gemma’s turn to gaze at the snow outside. Her shoulders slumped like she had forgotten my birthday or something.
“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to answer.”
“I want to. But…” She laced her fingers, pulled them apart, intertwined them, and ripped them apart again until she settled on frantically ta
pping her fingertips together in front of her rosy lips.
“But what?” I needed to hear her say it.
“You’re straight. Remember?” She stared into my eyes. “You had a boyfriend until recently.”
It was true. Josh, the boy I’d started dating my senior year of high school, was now going to school in Texas. When we’d seen each other over the holidays, I realized my feelings for him had evaporated.
“Just because I haven’t slept with a woman, doesn’t mean I’m straight. At least completely.” I stared down at my No Fear T-shirt Gemma had given me, the non-jock, for Christmas as a joke. It proclaimed, “Second place is the first loser.” Was it a sign that this was my last clean shirt today of all days? Have no fear? Go for it? Slowly, I raised my eyes to meet hers.
“Have you thought of sleeping with a woman before?” Gemma’s pinched face prepared for disturbing news. Would it be horrible for her to find out I liked her?
“Yes,” I said, averting my eyes again.
“You have?” Her voice faltered some.
I nodded.
“Who?”
You, ya moron.
I said, “There was this one girl in my drama class last semester who I thought about. She looked a lot like Demi Moore in Ghost. She even had the short hair.”
“Did you ever kiss her or anything?”
I shook my head.
“Have you ever kissed a woman?” she pushed.
“You mean, besides you?” I cracked a small smile. “No.”
She swallowed. Her hand sought mine. It was clammy, but I didn’t mind.
“I’ve thought about you,” I confessed.
Gemma blinked as if she had spotted a leprechaun. I didn’t know what to think, but I’d come this far.
“Have you thought about me?” I asked.
The nod was so slight I wasn’t sure if I imagined it. I quirked an eyebrow.
She cleared her throat. “Yes. Yes, I have.”
The moment I’d hoped for on so many occasions was finally happening. It was like standing on a precipice before taking a fall, and the thought didn’t scare me. Not completely.
“Teeg… are you sure?”
I responded with a kiss. For what seemed like a lifetime, we kissed. Finally I said, “God yes, I’m sure.” Sayonara, Play-it-Safe Tegan!
Our hands sought the other in a tangled mess. I fisted her red hair. Gemma pulled me close, letting out a soft moan.
She pulled away from our lip-lock. “We should slow down.”
“I know. It’s our first time. We should savor it.”
Gemma’s eyes glowed with primal desire.
“But, I don’t know if I can take it slow.” I cupped her cheek. “Not with you looking at me like that.”
Gemma cradled her hand over mine. “Like what?”
“Like you want to eat me.”
“I do.” She didn’t bother playing coy.
There was no fighting it. Our bodies became entangled once again. Kissing. Pawing. Groping.
Gemma wrenched the collar of my T-shirt and trailed her tongue along my collarbone.
“I want you,” I said.
A lust-filled groan escaped from her lips, and she ripped my shirt over my head. I reciprocated, jerking her sweatshirt and T-shirt off as fast as humanly possible. The kiss had spurred an overpowering yearning, unleashing all the inhibitions forged by my parents and society. From Gemma’s urgency in tearing off my shirt, I sensed she felt the same. Not knowing what to do next, I kissed her again.
Gemma took charge and pushed me gently onto the red comforter to climb on top of me. Her hand ran up and down my side. My fingers fumbled with her white lace bra, and I was shocked to learn how hard it was to unclip someone else’s bra with one hand.
I laughed. “I was expecting a sports bra.”
“I’m not that much of a jock. I do own normal bras.”
I ran a finger along the lace. “Sexy.” I reached around with both arms in another attempt to unhook it. “Seriously? Why can’t I do this?”
“Let me do that for you.” She sat up and slowly revealed perfect, tiny breasts. My glimpse of Gemma naked yesterday had happened so fast I didn’t notice her tattoo. With one finger I stroked the butterfly above her left breast.
Gemma smiled shyly. “May I?” She gestured to my bra. I tilted up for her to undo the clasp. She slid the straps over my arms and dropped the bra onto the floor.
“You make it look so easy,” I joked.
“I’ve practiced with my blowup doll.”
“Really?” I squawked.
“No! I’ve been with Kate.” Her sincere eyes grew wide, and a flash of fear shone in the yellow flecks.
“It’s okay. I guessed you weren’t a virgin.” I winked to reassure her. “Neither am I.”
We’d always avoided sharing that one detail during our talks. Sex was a forbidden topic in my household, and it was a difficult habit to break. I think Gemma’s family was even more hush-hush. Whenever we watched a movie with a sex scene, she always turned three shades of red, and I sensed she wanted to cover her face and watch through the cracks of her fingers. The thought almost made me laugh. As soon as it became apparent we both wanted each other, our shyness flew out the window. Mostly.
Gemma bit her lower lip. “But never with a woman.” She stated it as a fact.
“Nope.”
She nodded knowingly.
I cupped her chin and said, “Please, I want you to make love to me.”
The fright in her eyes flashed brightly and then dimmed. Her smile grew wide. Gemma leaned down and kissed the hollow of my throat. I let out a small gasp. She kissed and licked her way to my right breast. She flicked my nipple with her tongue, and a louder gasp escaped from me. My nipple grew hard, and Gemma bit it gently at first and then a little harder.
“Oh,” I exhaled.
Gemma’s mouth savored the other nipple.
It was driving me insane, and my hips curved upward. Gemma gazed into my eyes, and I mouthed, “Please.” She started to make her way down, leaving a shimmery trail as her mouth and tongue descended.
Down and down she went.
The anticipation was driving me mad with an overwhelming yearning I’d never felt. Juices pooled in my panties.
“I feel like I’m about to burst.” I ground my head into the pillow.
“I take it you want me to continue.” She licked my belly right below my belly button until she reached the top of my jeans.
“Yes. God, yes.”
Without any prodding, I raised my hips so she could wrench my jeans off. My panties went next. She gawked, bewildered, and I wondered if I should talk her through it. Then I remembered Gemma had done this before.
“Everything okay?” I asked when Gemma continued to stare.
“I never thought I’d see you. All of you.” Her face lit up.
“Is it all you imagined?” I joshed.
She laughed. “You can say that.” Her fingers softly raked my coarse hair. “And then some.”
Gemma traced her finger along my slippery lips. She ran it up and down several times and then licked her finger all the while eying my reaction. I slowly exhaled. Before she did anything else, her delicate pink tongue wet her lips.
I couldn’t peel my eyes off of her, not wanting to miss a moment.
Her head started to dip toward my pussy.
Gemma’s mouth opened slowly.
And then her tongue was on me. Exploring. I fisted the sheets with both hands. She parted my lips, and a tingling sensation ripped through my body.
Gemma’s eyes flickered to mine, questioning if she should continue.
I bobbed my head, too overcome with exhilaration to speak.
She winked at me, and her tongue entered.
An excited squeal slipped out.
She didn’t venture too far. My hips started to gyrate, guiding her deeper inside. Her hands clamped onto my butt, and she moaned with fervor. That electrified my senses even more.
“More, please,” I pleaded in a soft tone.
Gemma’s eyes burst open with eagerness, and I nodded to confirm the request.
She replaced her tongue with a finger, ever so gingerly.
“Don’t stop,” I panted. “Whatever you do, don’t stop.”
She seemed to understand what I meant, and her tongue concentrated on my clit while her finger plunged in and out.
“Oh my God.” I writhed. Gemma added another finger inside. Her tongue circled my bud frantically, and I could tell she was trying to keep it in the right spot. Try as I might, I couldn’t hold still.
“Oh… oh… oh…” I repeated over and over.
Gemma drove in deeper. I sat up, which flustered her, and she pulled her head away. I guided her mouth urgently back into position and flashed a supportive smile. She continued stimulating me with her tongue.
“Oh… I think I’m going to…” I couldn’t say the last word. An orgasm coursed through me, pinging frantically against all my nerve endings.
Gemma started to steady her fingers.
“No, don’t stop.”
One deep thrust brought me back to the brink of bliss. My fingers gouged the flesh on her back. I wondered if it hurt her, but I couldn’t stop myself.
My body shuddered once.
Twice.
After the third time, I collapsed back onto the bed.
Gemma left her stilled fingers inside me. Another jolt zagged its way through my body.
“That was—”
“Amazing,” Gemma interjected. She propped her head onto a palm. Her lips and chin glistened.
“I’ve never…” I panted and stopped speaking.
“Josh never?”
“No. Never. Nothing like that.”
“Not even?” She glanced down at my pussy.
“When he went down on me? No, he was always in a rush.”
Gemma’s guilty grin informed me she meant something else.
“Oh, you mean when I masturbate.” I felt my cheeks speckle.
She nodded shyly, making me wonder if she ever said the word out loud. Our comfort level around each other was growing by leaps and bounds tonight.
Girl Love Happens : Season One Page 10