A Long List of Firsts: A Carlsbad Village Lesbian Romance

by Sabrina Kane

  Becca had been on fire today. She’d been hitting ace after ace when serving and had also been doing some amazing blocking, thwarting several of Ainsley’s spike attempts. Maybe what Charlotte had said was true. Maybe everybody does try a bit harder when Rachel was around.

  This time, it was her team’s serve and Lucinda doing the serving.

  Ainsley, playing middle blocker, but standing next to Lucinda because of the rotation, turned her head to Lucinda and whispered, “Away from Becca; away from Becca.”

  “What about Rachel?” Lucinda whispered back.

  It was a fair point. Serving away from Becca meant hitting the ball into a zone where Rachel could get to it and do God knows what with it.

  “Keep it away from Rachel too!” she stated. “Hit it to Tamsin’s left,” she suggested.

  Lucinda shrugged, took a deep breath and extended her arm out, holding the volleyball in her palm. A moment later she tossed the ball up and delivered the serve exactly where Ainsley suggested.

  Tamsin, though, despite having to go to her left, managed to receive the serve easily and pass it to Rachel.

  Shit!

  Ainsley, reading the play—or so she thought—got herself in position to block a hit by Wendy, who she assumed Rachel was going to set to and who was jumping up as if she was going to hit the ball. But then Rachel did an amazing back set to Becca who was running up from behind Rachel to attack. The set was so perfectly timed and delivered that Becca, jumping so high one would have thought she was on a trampoline, easily spiked it over the net, the point made easier by the fact that Ainsley’s team had been fooled and caught off guard.

  That was the set.

  “New girl sucks!” Krissy, on Ainsley’s team this time, muttered.

  All the women met on one side of the net to exchange good games, hand-slaps and even a few hugs. Again, Rachel was the difference-maker: whichever team she happened to be on—and luckily, it had been Ainsley’s team the previous contest—won the game.

  As they all started heading back to the locker room, Ainsley put her arm around Rachel’s shoulder.

  “Every time you touch the ball, I get this overwhelming sense of doom,” Ainsley told her.

  Rachel laughed.

  “Even when I’m on your team?” she teased.

  “When you’re on my team and you touch the ball, I have a teeny-tiny orgasm.”

  In the locker room, Ainsley and Rachel were the last to head toward the showers and because of that, Ainsley had a great idea.

  Taking hold of Rachel’s arm and holding a finger up to her lips, Ainsley pulled Rachel into the nearest empty shower stall.

  “What are you doing?” Rachel whispered with a suppressed giggle.

  “Sh!”

  After closing the stall door, Ainsley pulled Rachel to her and kissed her, hoping the sounds from all the other showers running would mask the moan she couldn’t help making.

  The stall was comprised of the actual showering area with a small changing section before it that had a bench and several hooks on the wall to hang things on. It was quite a small space and Ainsley and Rachel were by necessity pressed close together.

  Rachel tasted like sweat and sunblock and Ainsley thought it was marvelous. It was the taste of an athletic woman and, good heavens, was Rachel athletic. And when Ainsley moved her hands to cover Rachel’s ass, she felt the sand that was still clinging to it.

  After the kiss both women quickly placed their shower items, change of clothes and towels on the bench or on the hooks, stripped off their bikinis and then stepped into the tiled showering area. It was even smaller in here, absolutely impossible for the two women to avoid pressing against one another.

  They stood under the spray of water, kissing while the sand was rinsed off them. After several moments, Ainsley broke the kiss and then leaned out of the shower to reach the bottle of shampoo Rachel had placed on the bench.

  “Turn around, baby,” she told Rachel, who immediately did so.

  Ainsley squirted a dollop of the shampoo/conditioner into her hand and then started to gently massage it into Rachel’s red locks, building up a nice lather. Rachel tilted her head back and moaned gently as Ainsley’s strong fingers worked through her hair, her fingertips pressing into Rachel’s scalp as she did so. When Rachel’s head looked like she was wearing a crown of bubbles, Ainsley said, “Head further back, baby,” and then let the shower rinse out all that soap, Ainsley helping it along by combing her fingers through the hair.

  “Stay right there,” she commanded.

  Reaching out of the shower again, she picked up Rachel’s bath pouf and body wash. When the bath pouf was ready with the body wash on it, Ainsley started at Rachel’s neck and shoulders, scrubbing the lather onto her bronzed flesh, removing any last bits of stubborn sand. The scents of cucumber and green tea were now mingling with the traces of apple from Rachel’s shampoo.

  Next, Ainsley moved to Rachel’s arms; first the left, then the right.

  “Up,” she instructed.

  And Rachel raised her arms, letting Ainsley clean under them as well.

  Chapter 23

  Another woman was washing her!

  With her arms raised, Rachel was trying to make sense of this new experience.

  Was it only three weeks ago when she was Rachel Hamill, a woman who had never had a lesbian thought in her life? A woman still on the look-out for Mr. Right?

  How did she become Rachel Hamill, a woman who was now in a shower with another woman, being washed by that woman?

  What metamorphosis had occurred almost without her even knowing it?

  And did it matter?

  Really, did it matter?

  Because right now, all that really did matter was that Rachel was right where she wanted to be, experiencing this latest proof of her metamorphosis.

  At first, when Ainsley had pulled her into the stall, Rachel had thought they’d end up fucking, trying to do so quietly enough to not let their friends know what was happening. But instead, Ainsley was scrubbing her with her bath pouf, cleaning off the sand and sweat, making Rachel feel like pampered royalty.

  Done with her arms, Ainsley was now scrubbing her chest, rubbing circles of lather on her breasts, her nipples like diamonds, her center reacting not only to the eroticism of being bathed but by the intimacy of it.

  Ainsley made sure to clean under Rachel’s breasts as well. Men always neglected to do that the few times Rachel had showered with one. But Ainsley gently lifted each breast with one hand and then swiped beneath it with the bath pouf with the other. Then once she was done and the shower spray had rinsed the soap off, Ainsley bent her head and sucked a hard nipple into her mouth, making Rachel moan softly with delight.

  And then, miracle of miracles, the goddess Ainsley was now kneeling before her, scrubbing her abs, poking her tongue into her navel. Rachel felt her head swoon. Was it really only three weeks ago when she first saw this woman, immediately feeling simultaneously drawn to her and unworthy to be in her presence? And now that same woman was on her knees before her, bathing her.

  Staring down at what was happening, Rachel felt her clit get even more swollen.

  “Turn around,” Ainsley instructed.

  Rachel did so and now her ass was being scrubbed and once the soap had been rinsed away, Ainsley bit into the flesh, making Rachel lean her head against the wall and gasp. She pushed her ass out, inviting Ainsley to give it more attention, which the doctor did with little nips or long, languorous licks with the flat of her tongue. Ainsley spent special attention licking the flesh at the very top of the cleft between the cheeks, right at her tailbone. Rachel started shuddering. She had never known that that area was so sensitive or that when someone flicked at it with the tip of their tongue it could send tingles directly to her clit.

  Advantages of dating a doctor.

  “Open,” was the next command and so Rachel, still leaning against the wall, spread her legs. Now the bath pouf was moving over her sex and when it co
ntacted her clit, she shuddered some more. She knew the act of washing down there was removing the lubrication which had been flowing out of her the past few minutes but she also knew there was more to replace it.

  Ainsley, using her hand, splashed water onto Rachel’s aroused center several times, rinsing it clear of soap and before Rachel had a chance to wonder what was next, she felt her clit being circled by Ainsley’s finger while at the same time Ainsley went back to licking that spot above her ass.

  Rachel quickly clamped a hand over her mouth. It was almost too late.

  She came so fast it shocked her.

  Squeezing her eyes shut as she grunted and moaned into her hand with the release, she felt her pussy’s inner walls flutter and contract rapidly, pushing out a stream of her come onto Ainsley’s hand while the countless tiny explosions of climax took over her body, radiating outward from beneath her mound to spread through every capillary, vein, artery, organ and bone. Even her freshly shampooed hair seemed electrified.

  And Rachel knew, as she rode out these several moments of pleasure, that this had been a different orgasm. It had come about not only because Ainsley first charged up her libido with anticipation and then had rubbed her clit expertly, but because Ainsley had stimulated Rachel’s other needs as a woman. The need to feel pampered. The need to feel cared for. The need to feel safe. The need to feel appreciated. Having those needs stimulated was the reason she had come so quickly and why even her toenails were tingling now.

  ***

  That night in bed at Ainsley’s condo in San Diego, Rachel clicked off the TV mounted to the wall opposite. They had just finished watching When Harry Met Sally on Amazon Prime, Rachel learning during the movie that Ainsley had a huge crush on the young Meg Ryan.

  When they both snuggled down under the blankets, Rachel reached over to tuck a stray lock of Ainsley’s hair behind the doctor’s ear.

  “Hey,” Rachel said.

  “Mm?” Ainsley murmured sleepily.

  “I want to be your girlfriend, Ains,” Rachel stated.

  Ainsley’s eyes opened wider.

  Rachel went on.

  “This is not just us having fun anymore, like we agreed. Whatever might split us apart one day, it isn’t going to be me suddenly deciding that I’m no longer attracted to you or that I no longer want to have sex with you because you’re a woman.”

  Rachel had known this now for several days. Her hunger and desire for Ainsley only seemed to grow more and more with each rotation of the Earth on its axis. And then there was the deeper connection of their friendship. She and Ainsley just got each other! It really was like what she had with Amy: a deep kindred friendship between two women that became like a sisterhood; made stronger not only because of shared interests or other commonalities but by the shared experience of being women. It was special and it was rare. At this point in her life—finishing her twenties, her thirties staring her right in the face—Rachel had come to realize that no matter how many female friends a woman has; no matter how many women she hangs out with for coffee or cocktails, brunches or dinners; a woman has at most two, possibly three, great friendships with other women in her life.

  With Ainsley, Rachel felt like she had found her second great friendship.

  But, of course, unlike her great friendship with Amy, her friendship with Ainsley came with lots of incredible sex.

  “Oh, thank god you said that!” Ainsley exclaimed, breathing a sigh of relief.

  Rachel laughed.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I’ve been wanting to call you my girlfriend for a while now! Every time I mention you in conversation, I’m, like, wanting to say, ‘My girlfriend, Rachel, and I…’ or ‘I’m having dinner tonight with my girlfriend, Rachel.’ But I’ve always had to stop and use some other euphemism.”

  “Like what kind of euphemism?” Rachel asked.

  “Well, the one I use most often is ‘my lesbian trainee.’”

  Rachel, laughing, playfully smacked Ainsley’s hip.

  “I have also used ‘my lesbian cadet’ and, simply, ‘the rookie.’”

  “Oh my god!” Rachel said, cracking up. “Why exactly do I want to be your girlfriend?”

  “Um…because I’m a great kisser and I don’t snore?” Ainsley ventured.

  “Oh, you snore!” Rachel informed her.

  “Well, I guess that evens out because you snore too.”

  “But, not like really loud, right?” Rachel asked.

  Ainsley kissed the tip of Rachel’s nose and then snuggled even more under the blankets.

  “Good night,” she said.

  Rachel blinked.

  “Wait…answer the question!”

  Chapter 24

  Moving day.

  Ainsley, ever the supporter of women-owned businesses but particularly the supporter of LGBTQ women-owned businesses had managed to find a moving company owned and completely staffed by lesbians. It was one of those only-in-California kind of things.

  The movers—none of whom Ainsley would like to challenge in an arm wrestling contest—showed up on time and had her condo in San Diego cleared out quickly, the contents all loaded into a large pink moving van. Once the condo was empty, Ainsley couldn’t help but spend several minutes walking through the place.

  It had been a good home to her, this two-bedroom condominium which she had bought soon after starting her residency at Kaiser Permanente Medical Center. She had always felt safe here and it had housed her during a period in her life when she went through a lot of growth both personally and professionally.

  When she had bought it, she had had visions of one day sharing it with a special woman, of them starting a life together here. It was certainly a big enough place for two and close to everything fabulous about San Diego, especially Balboa Park, Ainsley’s favorite spot in the city. However, the demands of her job and her relentless striving to become the best surgeon she could had meant that for most of her time owning this condo, she had lived in it alone.

  Until she took a chance with Casey.

  Ainsley wasn’t sure at the time that Casey was the one but she knew that she enjoyed their relationship and liked the idea of waking up next to her each morning and making this condo their home rather than just her home. And it was a concept Casey seemed to be all onboard for as well.

  It lasted six weeks.

  Ainsley was more than willing to acknowledge her shortcomings as a partner and thus her role in Casey feeling lonely and as if she was Ainsley’s second priority. But Ainsley also felt that if Casey had just talked to her about what she was going through perhaps she could have made some adjustments and Casey wouldn’t have felt the need to seek what she wanted in another woman.

  Would the same thing happen with Rachel? And if it did, would it happen with whoever was post-Rachel? And if it did, would it happen with the next in line? Was she doomed to a never-ending series of short-lived relationships over the next few decades until she retired from her demanding profession?

  Ainsley didn’t know. But considering it now, what she did know was that she didn’t want to think about post-Rachel because she didn’t like the notion of a post-Rachel. Such a concept was as distasteful to her as the concept of getting back together with Casey. And Ainsley was resolved to do her level best to ensure that there was not going to be a post-Rachel period of her life because already the red-headed real estate agent was under Ainsley’s skin in the best possible way.

  Even better, Rachel seemed—for now, anyway—to be handling the quirks of Ainsley’s career perfectly well. This past Monday, for instance, Ainsley had had to cancel their date because she needed to remain at the hospital until well past ten p.m. because of two emergency procedures that had come in.

  Rachel’s response?

  “There will be plenty more dates. Go save lives.”

  Recalling that now, Ainsley felt weak in the knees.

  Yep. Definitely getting under my skin.

  “So long,” Ainsley said
the empty condo as she began walking to the front door. “Thanks for the memories.”

  She stopped, suddenly feeling superstitious. Turning back around, she called out to the void. “Well, except that one about Casey! You can keep that one! Make sure it doesn’t follow me to my new place, okay? Please and thank you!”

  Satisfied that she properly appealed to whichever goddesses are in charge of happy lesbian memories, Ainsley left the condo. For now, she was keeping it and would rent it out. Rachel was right: rental prices in this neighborhood of San Diego were very high. Ainsley would be able to get more for rent each month than her mortgage payment for this place and Rachel assured her that with demand so high, she’d have a tenant in no time. Longer term, however, Ainsley figured she’d sell it. She had been thinking about her new house lately and considering that she’d one day like to put a pool in her backyard and also build a pool house/guest house to go with it. The profit she’d make from selling this condo should not only cover that but leave quite a bit left over.

  After locking the door, she got in her car, started it up and pointed it north, towards her new life in Carlsbad.

  ***

  Three hours later, Ainsley, with a glass of white wine in hand, was sitting on the living room floor of her new house and staring forlornly at all the work ahead of her.

  “Oh god, why did I want to do this again?” she moaned. There were boxes and boxes of things to unpack, and her furniture—though all in the correct rooms—still needed to be arranged properly. It was going to take forever!

  Krissy, sitting next to her, also with a glass of wine, nudged her.

  “So you can be closer to me!” she said.

  Ainsley smiled. Krissy was close now; just down the street and around the corner, in fact. Becca wasn’t too far away either. It was going to be great being so close to her good friends. It made the appeal of Carlsbad that much stronger.

  “So, where’s your wife?” Krissy asked after another sip of wine.

  “Shut up. Besides, I thought you were my wife.”