by Ronica Black
Sarah drew in a quick rush of air as Chandler made reference to her personal use of the device and how she had derived pleasure from it. She held up a curved attachment, explaining how it would nestle up against the G-spot as well as the clitoris to give any woman immense pleasure.
The psychologist shifted her stance then, and Sarah jumped back behind the wall. She leaned against the cool surface, listening intently as her heart continued to thud. Chandler. It was her. She was here. God, was she ever. Sarah peered back around the corner to take in her outfit. Desire tightened her muscles and squeezed her heart. Mesmerized, she didn’t even bother to fend off the slobbering dog at her feet.
“Here ya go.” Dave was back next to her and she nearly yelped with surprise. He didn’t seem to notice, though, and kept talking. “Yeah, Nicky’s had this party planned for weeks. I forgot about it when I invited you over. But then, I didn’t think it mattered much because I didn’t think you would actually show.” He took a swallow from his bottle as he watched the crowd of women.
Sarah continued to stare, unable to tear her eyes away. She had been trying her damndest to get Chandler Brogan out of her head, but now that she was in front of her, nothing else mattered. She wanted her. Wanted her just like she’d had her before. Writhing with pleasure, completely submissive, taking, willing, trembling. But Chandler knew. She could see right through Sarah’s façade now. She knew the confidence and control were not real. It was just the way she hid. The realization broke Chandler’s spell at once and Sarah glanced down, noticing for the first time the ice-cold beer in her hand. Then Chandler spoke again and her body reacted at once, perking up—fevering, needing to see her, to touch her, to taste her.
“Christ, Sarah.” Dave frowned. “You look like shit.”
Sarah felt herself heat, not from his words but from the ones pouring out of Chandler.
“I know.” She took a nervous swig of beer. She knew she must look pale and drawn. Which was funny considering how dark and full she felt on the inside. Full of the confusion, anger, resentment, and loneliness that had consumed her until she saw Chandler. Now she felt a yearning and raw attraction so strong, it nearly left her breathless.
“Come on, let’s go back to my office.”
Sarah hesitated, not wanting to leave the wall. She wanted to hide behind it, to be protected by it as she listened and watched. From the safety of the barrier she could have Chandler, imagine being with her all over again without risk of exposing herself.
“You don’t actually want to stay and listen, do you?” Dave raised his small, curious hazel eyes to her.
Sarah stood taller, shaking the overwhelming feelings from her head. “No, don’t be ridiculous.”
Her ears straining to hear every word Chandler spoke, she followed Dave down the hallway to his office, a small room that contained a desk, a bookshelf, and two easy chairs facing a television. The station was tuned to ESPN, where Dave had apparently been watching professional bowling.
He plopped down in a recliner and swallowed more beer, then said, “Make yourself comfortable.”
Sarah sat but couldn’t relax. Her mind and body screamed to be back with Chandler. But Dave didn’t seem to notice as he reclined his chair, his athletic-socked feet pointing to the ceiling.
“Killer, no!” he commanded the pelvic-thrusting dog and made sure he went to the corner to lie down. Then, satisfied, he burped softly, excused himself, and asked, “So how you been?”
Sarah sat poised in her chair, her black cowboy boots aimed toward the door. “Fine.” Her voice was flat and uninterested and she wished he would stop talking so she could hear Chandler better.
“Yeah? I was a little worried after our last conversation.” He fidgeted with the remote, upping the volume a little so he could hear the commentary.
Sarah glanced around the room and took in the pile of neatly stacked bills that sat on the desk, the framed, signed basketball jersey on the wall. Books ranging from Tom Clancy to John Grisham to the biography of Chuck Yeager filled the shelves. A military photo depicted a young, fresh Dave, right out of high school, ready to serve his country in the Marine Corps. She herself hadn’t gone that route, choosing instead to go to Arizona State to get her bachelor’s in administration of justice. Then she had gone on to apply to the Department of Public Safety. Law enforcement was all she had ever wanted to do. It was her life.
“So you doing okay, then?” He sipped his beer.
“Can’t complain.” She gave him a half smile as she lied.
“Can’t or won’t?” He knew her well.
She smiled again and studied her beer bottle. “Won’t.”
“How are you feeling? Any better since we spoke?”
Sarah shrugged and straightened her white long-sleeved blouse. The silver snaps were undone to her chest and the sleeves were loosely rolled, showing off a couple of leather bracelets adorned with white shells. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Dave scratched his head and eyed her outfit. “You didn’t have to get all dressed up on my account.” He cracked a smile.
“I didn’t.” She pulled a sip from her beer and raised an eyebrow his way. “I did it for Nicky.”
Both laughed for a moment before a serious look washed over Dave and he turned down the television. He stared at his hands for a moment, obviously in thought. Even Killer perked up to watch him, seeming to sense something.
“Listen, Sarah,” he said, still not looking up. “I meant what I said the other day, about you telling me anything.” He glanced her way quickly before focusing back on the beer bottle resting in his lap.
Sarah rubbed her palms on her fitted, faded jeans, unsure what he was getting at. Laughter filtered in from the other room, and once again she wished she were privy to it.
“I know you said you’re not dating…” His hazel eyes held hers. “But if you were…” He searched her face and she could tell he was nervous by the way his voice trembled a little. “Would it be a woman?”
Sarah held his eyes. He was finally asking. After years of easing around it, or hinting his suspicions. She thought calmly before she answered and realized that had her heart not been raging for Chandler, she might have put him off once again. But with her desire flaming hot, she knew it would be difficult not to speak the truth. Even if she was intensely private, a part of her told her it was time to trust Dave and let him be what he was—a friend.
“Yes,” she said simply and softly.
Dave studied her face for a moment, obviously a little shocked at her blunt answer. He no doubt expected her to dance around the question, like she did most times he asked her something personal.
“Okay,” he finally breathed and then relaxed back against his chair. “Thanks for telling me.” He reached over to pat her leg affectionately. Laughing, he joked, “Just stay the hell away from my wife. You’re a hell of a lot better looking and probably way better in bed than me.”
Sarah laughed with him and allowed herself to breathe deep and relax. She had never experienced that kind of love before, and she felt it radiating pleasantly through her. She had no idea it would feel so good to reveal her sexuality. Her parents had always been too focused on themselves to pay her much attention. From as early as she could remember, she had been on her own and alone in the world. Even worse, when she’d really needed their protection, they had failed her.
Dave’s acceptance reached her heart as she realized that he really did care. He cared for her just as she was, and that was all that mattered. She studied him and cleared her throat, knowing what she had to do. It was time to tell him about her intentions. With all that had transpired over the past few days, she was surprised to find that the FBI had somehow taken a back corner in her mind. As she readied herself to speak she yanked it to the fore.
“I need to tell you something,” she said, her voice sounding stronger than she felt. She was worried about how he would take the news. Her superiors knew, but she was pretty sure no one else did.
Dave
glanced over at her. “Yeah? Something else?” he teased her with a smile.
“Yes.”
He turned down the television. “Shoot.”
Sarah folded her hands together nervously. She was surprised to find that she was more nervous over this than she had been about her sexuality. “I’m thinking of leaving the department.”
“What?”
“I’ve applied to the FBI.”
He hastily switched off the television and thought for a while before he responded. “I know.”
Sarah stared at him. “You do?”
He nodded, licking his lips. “They contacted me a few weeks ago.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because you hadn’t. I just figured you would tell me when you were ready.”
She sighed. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner.”
“It’s okay. Just be glad they got to me before that incident with the convicted rapist.”
She swallowed with difficulty. Dave truly was a good man. He had waited for her to bring up the FBI in her own time—and had the FBI come to him after that incident, she knew he would’ve been put in a tough spot. But she also knew he would’ve done the right thing and told the truth. He was a noble man. Again she acknowledged just how lucky she was to have a person like him as a friend.
His forehead crinkled in puzzlement. “Where did this come from? I mean, why?”
“It’s always been my goal.”
“All along you’ve been planning on going?” He sounded hurt.
“Yes.”
“Why now?”
Sarah looked away at the question. “I just think it’s time.”
They sat in silence for a long while. Dave was obviously searching for words that were hard to find. “You’re my friend, Sarah. I’ll support you no matter what.” He sighed. “I’m going to hate it, though. You being gone.”
Instinctively he patted his thigh and gave Killer a whistle. The furry bundle of muscle swaggered up to him with a wagging tail. Dave stroked him softly, taking comfort from the one pal who never left his side.
“Thanks,” Sarah managed, knowing she had hurt him.
“Yeah, yeah.” He waved her off playfully. “Don’t start crying on me, Monroe. I know you’re going to miss me too, but there will be no crying.” He smiled and they both laughed softly.
“I’ll try to control myself,” she teased. Maybe things would be okay after all. Maybe she wouldn’t have to hide forever. She thought of Chandler again, and the sense of freedom collided with her desire. If it could happen with Dave, then maybe, just maybe…
She sat back and imagined herself approaching Chandler. What would she say to her? What would Chandler do? Her mind flew with the possibilities as Dave settled in his chair next to her. More than once her heart encouraged her to stand, to go back into the living room to where Chandler was. But her brain kept her frozen in place, telling her to at least wait until the party was over.
An hour or so went by, Dave speaking to her from time to time, switching the channel from a basketball game and then back to bowling. She answered him vaguely, keeping her focus on Chandler. Eventually, more loud laughter and applause drifted down the hall and Sarah could tolerate no more. Rising from her chair, she took the empty beer bottle from Dave’s hand.
“I’ll go get us another.” She slipped out of the room, leaving Dave to enjoy his bowling. Slowing as she approached the wall to the living room, she leaned in and stole a peek from around the corner.
Chandler had her back to her as she spoke. “It can help if they wear a condom, or even two, to help desensitize their pleasure. Also if they are prematurely ejaculating, have them masturbate before sex.”
Sarah studied the women hanging on Chandler’s every word. Some were even scribbling down notes.
“That should help hold off the orgasm he will then have with you. But the most effective way to help ensure a longer erection is communication. He has to be willing to say ‘stop’ when he feels himself getting close. It won’t be easy for him and it does take practice. He can practice on his own or with you. If he’s at all concerned about your pleasure, then he should be willing to try.”
“What if he won’t do these things?” a woman near the back asked.
Chandler sighed at the question. “If he’s unwilling and you are not gaining the pleasure that you should as his lover, then I would suggest some counseling. No one wants a selfish lover, and frankly I don’t think anyone should put up with it.”
Sarah retreated at the words, resting her back against the wall. Was she selfish? No, she had pleased Chandler, several times. But she hadn’t allowed Chandler to please her. Was that selfish?
Another woman spoke up from the living room. “Is that why they say that women are the only ones who can really please another woman?”
Sarah perked up again and eased her head around the corner, awaiting the answer.
Chandler chuckled softly and slid her hands into her pockets. “From the knowledge I have and from what I’ve heard, women are more apt to focus more on pleasing their partners rather than themselves. It doesn’t matter if their partner is male or female. Women, by nature, are givers, pleasers. Can a woman please another woman better than a man? If you want my opinion, I would say yes. Women know what they want and know how to give it to another woman. And it pleases them greatly to do so. But it’s really all in what you prefer. If you like the feel of a five o’clock shadow, a hard chest, and a stiff prick, then you should go with that. Find a man and work with him, teach him. But before you can expect him to please you, you have to know enough about yourself, know what you like and be willing to voice it.” Chandler paused, apparently waiting for another woman to speak.
“Why would a woman use a dildo? I mean, why do lesbians use them if it’s men they want to get away from in the first place?”
“I will answer that question generally.” Chandler began to pace, and Sarah took a step back, careful not to be seen. “Both sexualities, gay and straight, enjoy the use of dildos. Mainly because they offer what the real penis cannot…everlasting firmness and control. And that’s pretty important for the majority of us who like penetration. Not to mention the fact that you get to pick your own size and color.”
Sarah smiled to herself as the women laughed. Chandler was great with the crowd, and she suddenly felt left out. She wanted to know Chandler, wanted to laugh at her wit and revel in her mind. Surprising jealousy overpowered her as she thought about it. If she wanted to be with Chandler, and experience her on all levels, then what was she doing hiding behind a wall? She took another step, cementing herself to the ground. She wanted to get closer and was suddenly unwilling to listen to the side of herself that was afraid of being exposed.
She focused on Chandler as a soft-spoken blonde toward the front voiced a question, one that hit home with Sarah. “What if you can’t orgasm? How could you tell your lover what you wanted when you really just don’t know?”
“This is more common than you think.” Chandler glanced around the room. “I’ll tell you what I suggest to my patients…” She paused then as if lost in thought, and Sarah wondered if she was thinking of her.
She wished she could be sure just how much of the chart Chandler had read. Realizing then that she’d inched farther away from the wall than she’d intended, Sarah started to move, but Chandler’s light green eyes locked with hers and she stumbled a little, completely startled.
“What are you doing?” Dave asked in her ear.
Sarah jerked but did not move her eyes from Chandler’s. Dave sighed loudly, as if the sex therapist had won over the last woman in the house and took the beer bottles from her hands to head into the kitchen.
“Doctor?” a woman asked. “Dr. Brogan, are you okay?” Chandler shuddered visibly, then seemed to do her best to regain her composure.
Sarah’s body tingled; she felt like it was ready to float away. Chandler had seen her; she no longer had to hide. She could watc
h and listen freely, relish her very presence. She was amazed that she felt no fear, no anxiety. Only freedom. And desire.
“Yes, I’m sorry.” Chandler eased a hand through her brown hair. “With women who have difficulty climaxing, I tell them to”—her eyes rose to Sarah’s—“masturbate.”
The women all shuffled a little and whispered. Sarah felt her face flush, but not from embarrassment. Her body hardened where she stood as she felt the caress of Chandler’s gaze and her words.
“A woman has to learn from her own body.” Chandler continued, her voice lowered to a smooth suggestion, “If she cannot bring herself to orgasm, then how can she expect someone else to be able to do it for her?”
“But what if you’ve tried and you just can’t?” the same woman asked.
“I would suggest trying different ways.” She walked to the counter that bordered the kitchen, where she met Dave’s eyes. Chandler smiled at him as she lifted up a nozzle connected to a long cord.
“Like this, for example.” She held it out for the women to see. “Water pressure has long been a friend to women. And with this adapter, you don’t need a Jacuzzi or a special tub. You simply twist the adapter onto your sink faucet, climb in the bathtub, and with this nozzle, you can control the pressure and pattern of the spray, directing it right to where you need it most.” Chandler handed it to the woman who’d introduced the topic and encouraged her to pass it around.
“Another suggestion is to find the right vibrator. Shop around, experiment. You may find that the combination dildo/vibrator works for you, or just a powerful steady vibration in general. As you can see here, there are dozens to choose from. Try the warming lubricants, set the mood by reading a racy book or watching a sexy movie. Sometimes it helps to please your partner at the same time. You, in a sense, gain pleasure by pleasing them. Go slow. Painfully so. Touch each other for five minutes with only your fingertips, avoiding the erogenous zones. Then move to kissing. These deliberate actions will help to awaken your libido.”