A Long List of Firsts: A Carlsbad Village Lesbian Romance

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A Long List of Firsts: A Carlsbad Village Lesbian Romance Page 4

by Sabrina Kane


  “It is so.”

  “But you’re straight,” Ainsley stated.

  “It’s about time you figured that out,” Rachel said snarkily.

  “Oh, fuck you! I knew you were straight ages ago!”

  “Whatever! Anyway, so?”

  Ainsley shrugged.

  “Some women get…what’s the medical term I’m looking for?” Ainsley looked off to the side, obviously pretending to think. “Oh yeah! Weirded out when gay women flirt with them too much.”

  “Well,” Rachel began, “I’ve been enjoying it. This has been the most fun I’ve had with my clothes on in what feels like forever. Anyway, why can’t we be friends who flirt with each other? We should totally make that our thing.”

  Ainsley smiled.

  “As far as ‘things’ go, it’s not a bad one to have,” she said.

  Rachel nodded.

  “Besides, I think when it comes to flirting today, I’ve been giving as good as I’ve gotten.”

  “You actually have,” Ainsley agreed. “As a lesbian, I’d give you a six out of ten.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes.

  “Fuck! Six? That’s, like, the beige of scores!”

  Ainsley laughed.

  “Do better tonight,” she said, cocking an eyebrow.

  And Rachel’s clit pulsed.

  Chapter 6

  Rachel was going to be arriving shortly.

  Ainsley took a look around her condo, making sure it wasn’t the normal pigsty it usually was.

  Okay, maybe “pigsty” was a little harsh, she considered, deciding to cut herself some slack. It wasn’t as if her sloppiness level was somewhere on par with any frat house on any university campus in any state in the union. Nonetheless, being a surgeon who often worked odd hours and frequently came home exhausted, Ainsley knew her housekeeping skills weren’t exactly Martha Stewart level.

  She had kept meaning to hire a cleaning service. All she’d need is someone to show up twice a week, tops, to tidy up. Maybe three times. No more than four. But she had never gotten around to doing so. She resolved, however, to find such a service the minute she moved to Carlsbad and into that lovely house she was now on the cusp of buying.

  Looking around now, she saw not one, not two but three pairs of shoes she had kicked off whenever in various places, none of which were her closet. She also spotted a pair of scrub pants draped over the back of one of her dining room chairs. Why, she had no idea. Two wine glasses were on her coffee table; not because she’d had a guest over for wine, she recalled, but because she had been too lazy to put the first one in the dishwasher after drinking it one night—whatever night that was. Last night, she had simply gotten a second glass and then been too lazy to put that one away also.

  Both dirty wine glasses were accompanied on the table by a dirty bowl from which she had eaten breakfast cereal last night—her snack of choice. Charlotte had never understood Ainsley’s predilection for drinking wine while eating Honey Nut Cheerios, but to each her own.

  Sighing, Ainsley got to work, collecting the dirty dishes first and putting them in the dishwasher before collecting the shoes and scrub pants next. In her bedroom, the pants went in the hamper while the shoes she tossed into the walk-in closet, shutting the door afterwards. She’d sort them properly into the shoe rack later figuring that while a tour of her home for Rachel would include the bedroom, it didn’t necessarily have to include the closet.

  Wait…Why are there two bras on my nightstand? And why is another one on the windowsill?

  She had no idea but since that’s not where her bras belonged, she quickly scooped up all of them and, not remembering if they were clean or not, opted for tossing them in the hamper.

  Maybe “pigsty” isn’t so far off…

  “Alexa, remind me to call a cleaning service for the new house!” she called out.

  “When should I remind you?” the smart device asked.

  Fuck! When could she expect to close on the house? When could she expect to move in? When could she expect to start leaving bras on her nightstand and windowsill again?

  Sighing, she said, “Who knows?”

  “I’m sorry,” Alexa responded. “I don’t know that date. When should I remind you?”

  “Aargh! Never mind!”

  The doorbell rang.

  Ainsley looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Rachel was early. Traffic must not have been too bad.

  She gave herself a quick once-over in her giant mirror. Gone was the Dad-sanctioned dress-like-you-can-afford-it outfit. Now, she was dressed in a tie-dye midi skirt and a black sleeveless top with gladiator strap sandals on her feet.

  Deeming that everything about her outfit was in place, she hurried to the front door.

  “Casey?” she asked when she opened it. “What the fuck?”

  Her ex was outfitted in a blue bodycon dress that certainly put her ample curves on display and the stiletto pumps which used to drive Ainsley crazy.

  The operative phrase being used to.

  Nice try, bitch.

  “I think four months is long enough, Ains,” Casey said. Without being invited and before Ainsley could move to stop her, she barged inside. “I gave you space. It’s time we tried talking again.”

  “What part of ‘I never want to speak to you again’ did you fucking fail to understand?” Ainsley snapped, shutting the door. No need for the neighbors to listen to World War III. Again.

  “Ains, please!” Casey said. “I think I deserve to—”

  “You deserve?” Ainsley cut her off with a mocking laugh. “Do you want to know what I deserve, Casey? I deserve to not have to come home one day to find my girlfriend’s head between another woman’s legs!”

  Even in her gladiator sandals, Ainsley was taller than Casey in heels. But Ainsley wished she still had on her Blahniks from earlier because she wanted to tower over Casey now.

  Casey held out her hands in a placating gesture.

  “Okay, I…” She stopped and sighed. “…deserve that. But, Ains, I’ve apologized a thousand times!”

  “Apologize a thousand more!”

  “Fine! If that’s what it will take!”

  Before Ainsley could snap back with a response about where Casey could shove her thousand apologies, the doorbell rang again.

  Rachel.

  “Aargh!” she growled in frustration.

  Despite the frustration, however, when she opened the door, Ainsley couldn’t help the feeling of just wanting to stand there staring at Rachel. Her new friend was dressed in cut-off denim shorts which showed her amazing thighs and a black cross-wrap crop tank which displayed the realtor’s belly button, making Ainsley lick her lips. On Rachel’s feet were cute flip-flops, giving Ainsley another look at those beautiful toes of hers.

  “Hi!” Rachel said enthusiastically.

  “Hi!” Ainsley returned, equally enthusiastically, momentarily forgetting Casey was in her house, momentarily forgetting what day of the week it was, momentarily forgetting her own middle name.

  Celeste!

  “Can I come in?” Rachel asked, smirking.

  Momentarily forgetting my manners…

  Blushing, Ainsley said, “Of course!” And she stood aside to let Rachel enter.

  “Oh, hello!” Rachel said upon seeing Casey. Ainsley wished she had moved to Carlsbad a month ago.

  Casey was now standing with her arms crossed, glaring first at Rachel and then at Ainsley.

  Rolling her eyes, Ainsley said to Rachel, “This is Casey.” Then, with as much venom as she could muster, added, “My ex.”

  “Oh,” Rachel said.

  And then…something incredible happened.

  Rachel moved closer to Ainsley and slid her arm around her waist! Ainsley’s heart thudded. A second later, her clit began swelling as Rachel, quite obviously, began playing her fingers along Ainsley’s hip, lightly stroking it. Ainsley could feel each of Rachel’s light touches through the fabric of her skirt and now her center joined her clit
in responding by making her wet.

  Sweet Jesus…

  Ainsley saw that Casey’s eyes were riveted on what Rachel’s fingers were doing.

  “Well,” Rachel said, “Ains and I had plans tonight, Casey. I would have invited you to join us, especially since you look amazing, but I feel a headache coming on and so I think I’d rather just stay in.”

  Rachel looked up at Ainsley.

  “You don’t mind, do you?” she asked. “If we just stay in?”

  Ainsley was flooded by now. The clean—and dry—panties she had put on no more than half an hour earlier were no longer clean nor dry.

  Rachel looked so fucking beautiful staring up at her the way she was. Playing her role to the hilt, Rachel’s eyes were puppy-dog large, as if she was really begging Ainsley to let them cancel their plans and just have a quiet night at home.

  Rachel’s fingers played a little more insistently on Ainsley’s hip and Ainsley’s pussy was buzzing now. She wanted to tell Rachel that if she kept that up for only two more minutes, she’d come.

  “Of course not,” she said, putting her own arm around Rachel’s shoulder and running her fingers up and down the smooth flesh of Rachel’s bare arm. Ever so subtly, Rachel quirked her eyebrow and Ainsley could have sworn it was a dare to kiss her.

  “Whatever!” Casey said, breaking the spell.

  “It was so nice meeting you!” Rachel said as Casey stomped to the front door, opened it and let herself out.

  When the door closed behind Casey, Ainsley and Rachel burst out laughing.

  “You are fucking amazing!” Ainsley said, giving Rachel a hug.

  “Well, I’m good at reading situations,” Rachel said when they separated. “I could just tell you needed some rescuing. What was she doing here?”

  “What else? Trying to win me back.” Here, Ainsley used her hands to indicate her entire form. “I’m fabulous.”

  “You totally are,” Rachel said, nodding solemnly. “I mean, why else would I rather just stay in with you?”

  The two women stared at each other for a few moments, Ainsley imagining exactly what she would do with Rachel if they were really staying in.

  ***

  “I won’t forgive cheating,” Ainsley said, about forty minutes later. They were sitting in the outdoor seating area of a bar on Fifth Avenue in San Diego’s Gaslamp Quarter. As usual, because it was Saturday night, the city had closed off the street to vehicular traffic, allowing the numerous bars and restaurants to add additional seats outside their establishments and also allowing pedestrians to just walk and mingle on the street as if it was a block party.

  Twirling her glass of white wine by the stem, Ainsley continued.

  “Once someone shows they can do that to you, you may as well expect them to keep doing it. Especially if you forgive them.”

  “I agree,” Rachel said.

  “Has someone ever done that to you?” Ainsley asked.

  “A couple of guys, yeah.”

  “Sucks, doesn’t it? Anyway, Casey said she did it because she felt ignored by me. That it was a momentary lapse of judgement brought on by loneliness.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  Ainsley shrugged.

  “Kind of,” she answered truthfully. “Doesn’t mean she had to do it, though.” She leaned forward. “My problem is,” she continued, “if I date outside of my profession—such as Casey—then I risk being with a woman who doesn’t understand that being a doctor means I don’t work a nine-to-five type job and that maybe I don’t have a lot left in the tank when I get home from the hospital.”

  “Totally get it,” Rachel said.

  “But if I date within my profession,” Ainsley went on, “then I risk being in a relationship where we both work stupid-crazy hours and we both don’t have a lot left in the tank at the end of the day.”

  “Is Casey the reason you’re leaving San Diego?” Rachel asked. “The reason why you want to get out of the condo?”

  Ainsley had to laugh at that. The question made sense, she thought, considering how new Rachel was in her life and her not knowing that Ainsley was not the type to let a woman chase her out of town. So, she explained that no, her leaving San Diego was due to having always loved Carlsbad.

  “I grew up in La Jolla,” she said, “but some friends and I used to surf up in Carlsbad when I was a teenager. Sometimes we played volleyball there too. Anyway, with my new position at Scripps, this seemed like the perfect moment to make my dream of living in Carlsbad come true.”

  She went on, telling Rachel of how she purged her condo of all things Casey back when she discovered her girlfriend was cheating.

  “Let’s see…I bought a new bed and mattress because when you see your girlfriend having sex with another woman on your old bed, that piece of furniture needs to be burned.”

  “You didn’t actually burn it, did you?” Rachel asked, her eyes wide.

  “Metaphorically. I donated it to Goodwill. Let’s see, which means I also metaphorically burned the couch because I figured they probably had sex on that too. The dining room table…”

  “You think they had sex on the dining room table?” Rachel’s voice telegraphed her surprise.

  “It’s a flat surface. Lesbians will have sex on just about any flat surface,” Ainsley told her. “If you would just give in to my charms, I’d show you.”

  Rachel burst out laughing, blushing enough to make her face almost match the color of her hair.

  “What about the floors?” she inquired. “They’re a flat surface. Did you have them retiled?”

  “Shit!” Ainsley exclaimed. “I knew I was forgetting something! But I did have the bedroom walls repainted and I threw away every gift she had ever given me—including a fairly expensive gold necklace.”

  “Note to self,” Rachel began, “don’t cheat on Ainsley.”

  “Or if you do,” Ainsley said, “make sure it’s before you buy me expensive jewelry.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t cheat on you,” Rachel said reassuringly, making Ainsley chuckle. Ainsley was super glad that Rachel insisted they continue their flirty banter. She knew it wasn’t ever going to go anywhere but it was a lot of fun and made chatting with Rachel a hell of a lot more interesting than chatting with most of her other friends.

  At least, Ainsley was fairly certain the flirty banter wasn’t going to go anywhere. There were thrilling moments when she could swear Rachel was genuinely attracted to her. It wasn’t just in the things she would say but the way she would say them and the look on her face when she would say them. On top of that, Ainsley often caught Rachel checking her out—the way women check her out when they’re trying to be subtle about it. Peeking down at her cleavage, roaming their eyes over her long figure when they thought Ainsley wouldn’t notice…Rachel did all of that.

  And, Ainsley had noticed thrillingly, Rachel often licked her lips while doing so…

  Chapter 7

  “What about him?”

  Rachel looked to where Ainsley was indicating. A young guy with quite an impressive muscular build was standing with his friends on Fifth Avenue near the entrance to a bar, evidently waiting to get in.

  She shook her head.

  “He’s good-looking,” she declared. “But…nah!”

  Nah? Really? Since when?

  Because, actually, that guy Ainsley pointed out was exactly the type Rachel normally went for: dark and square-jawed good looks and obviously very fit. She had always been drawn to guys who presented outward displays of power such as really developed biceps and rock-hard chests and abs. And tribal tattoos. For some reason, tribal tats always did it for Rachel; especially if they were on the muscular arm of some guy who looked like he could be a star in one of the Fast and Furious movies.

  Guys like the one Ainsley had just pointed out.

  But tonight, anyway, all Rachel saw when she looked at that guy was trouble. It was as if a sixth sense had been turned on in her; as if she was finally able to see guys with her brain
as well as her eyes. Looking at him, she could foresee the entirety of their “romance” as if it were playing on fast-forward on Netflix.

  “He’s a cheater,” Rachel told Ainsley. “Guys like him have women throwing themselves at him all the time and the thing with guys is, there’s only so much temptation they can resist. I give him…three months, tops, before he’s cheating on me.

  “Also, I can just tell he spends all his time at home playing fucking X-Box or Playstation or whatever. Also, I can tell he’s way too much into sports. I mean, it’s Saturday night, he’s out on the town and he’s wearing a Dodgers shirt. Date night for him means brewskis at a sports bar with me and six of his buddies watching whatever big game is on.”

  Ainsley laughed.

  “Damn! You picked him apart!”

  “Okay, my turn,” Rachel said, looking around. Her eyes alighted on a pretty brunette in a short dress, sitting with a guy a few tables away. “Her.” And she indicated the table by tilting her chin in that direction.

  “Yum!” Ainsley said, after taking a peek. “Well done!”

  Rachel actually felt a flash of jealousy.

  “Yum?” she said. “Really? I hope you thought that when you first saw me!”

  “No, when I first saw you, I thought ‘Yum-meee.’ There’s a difference.”

  Rachel quirked an eyebrow.

  “And the difference being…?”

  “‘Yum’ is when I want to buy a woman a drink, take her out a few times, get to know her and then have incredible sex with her.”

  Rachel felt her heartrate increase.

  “‘Yum-meee.,’” Ainsley went on, “is when I just want to go straight into having incredible sex with her.”

  This time, Rachel couldn’t help it. When her clit pulsed just now she let out a puff of breath as she crossed her legs under the table.

  Ainsley cocked an eyebrow.

  “Ooh! That caused a reaction, didn’t it?” she asked, chuckling.

  Fuck. Busted!

  Rachel rolled her eyes and then took a sip of her drink. Over the course of the past hour they had graduated from white wine to cocktails and she was now enjoying a mojito.

  Two can play at that game.

  “So, what if it did?” she asked. “I mean, you’re a woman. You know how good it feels coming down.”

 

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