She thought of Jeremy. She’d been a virgin when they met and they’d been so young. She hadn’t known anything about pleasing a man when they’d first slept together, and that’d worked out fine. They’d learned together, though, she reminded herself. He hadn’t known much more than she had, really. This was different. Sammi had been with other women, women like Janet.
Eve didn’t want to screw this up. Maybe if her first time was with someone else, someone with whom it didn’t matter so much, so she could learn some things, then she would have something to offer Sammi.
Eve heard soft murmuring from the living room. She moved a little closer to the doorway.
“I’m really sorry for interrupting,” Janet was saying again.
How did she know she’d interrupted? She’d been with Sammi, that’s how. She recognized that look that Sammi got when she was aroused—even Eve knew that look already. Janet had been here, right here in this house, in the same bed Eve and Sammi had been on their way to. Eve moved back to the stove and turned up the heat under the soup, then finished the salad. “I think we’re all set,” she said when Sammi came back into the room.
Sammi stilled. She studied Eve. “I don’t suppose we can pick up where we left off?” she asked quietly. She ran her fingers through Eve’s hair, pulling it back from her face.
Eve turned to her, offering an apologetic smile. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“It seemed like a really good idea at the time,” Sammi said, but the look in her eyes revealed that she knew a crucial moment had passed.
Eve took Sammi’s hand and kissed the palm. “Yeah, it did. But…”
Sammi sighed. “Okay then. Dinner it is.”
Later, after they’d finished eating and had cleaned up the dishes, Sammi placed the VHS they’d planned to watch in the machine. It was one of her favorites she wanted to share with Eve.
Eve couldn’t remember the name of it. She couldn’t remember much of anything with her head still cluttered with the memory of how free it’d felt to be heading to Sammi’s bedroom and thoughts of Janet and all the other women in Sammi’s life like her.
Sammi eased down beside her. She looked at the remote in her hand. “Can we talk about earlier?”
Eve didn’t know what she could possibly say about it. She was so embarrassed. “Which part?”
“All of it. I mean, what happened?”
Eve hesitated, hoping some words would come to her. “I just…I got carried away, ahead of myself. It just all felt so good, I couldn’t stop.”
“Then why did we need to? You’re right. It felt so good. You seemed so ready. If we’d just started again after Janet left, we would’ve been there again in a minute.”
Eve stared straight ahead. Could she tell Sammi the truth? If she did, she knew Sammi would promise her that it was okay, she knew it was Eve’s first time, et cetera, et cetera, because that’s how Sammi was. She’d be accepting, she’d be reassuring, and in the end, she’d be disappointed. She’d never say a word, though, and Eve wouldn’t be able to face her.
“I’m not pushing you, honey,” Sammi said when Eve remained silent. “I’m just trying to understand.”
Eve turned sideways to face her and rested her arm on the back of the sofa. She drew her legs up under her. “I know you’re not pushing. You’re being so great,” she said. “I’m just still not ready. I know it seemed like I was, and I really was physically. Believe me.” She felt a flash of heat course through her body at the mere thought. “But emotionally, I’m still not.”
Sammi released a deep sigh and the concern left her eyes. “So, it’s not that you were upset about Janet?”
Eve tensed at the mention of the name.
“Because I’m not seeing her anymore, I swear.” Sammi’s words tumbled over one another like squabbling bear cubs. “It’s been a long time since I saw her. I’m not seeing anyone but you.”
Eve blinked. Sammi thought she was jealous. She supposed she was in a way—jealous that Janet knew how to satisfy her, how to give her pleasure. It’d never occurred to Eve that they might still be seeing one another. She smiled. “I didn’t think that,” she said, taking Sammi’s hand in hers. “But was she…”
“Was she what?” Sammi’s tone was tender. She relaxed against the back of the couch.
Good in bed? Eve wanted to ask, but she stopped herself. She couldn’t ask that. What a tacky question. “Was she important to you?” she said finally.
A deep blush overtook the easy set of Sammi’s features. She shrugged. “Not really. Not in the way you probably mean.” She looked at Eve. “You know, I was pretty shallow when I first came out. No one I dated was very important to me for anything other than sex.”
“You and Janet just had sex?” Just? Eve scoffed at herself. Who was she to diminish it? She couldn’t just have sex.
Sammi nodded.
“How did that work with Melissa?”
“She never met Melissa. None of the women I dated met her. I only saw them when she was with Nick.” Sammi coaxed Eve to her and cradled her head in the hollow of her shoulder. “I told you, you’re the one I’ve been waiting for. You’re different. I knew it was okay for you to meet Melissa.”
Eve listened, knowing the weight of those words. They should’ve eased her fears, comforted her. Instead, she felt their pressure as they were piled one on top of another. She had met Melissa. Melissa had liked her. The boys had liked Sammi. Daniel, apparently, had really liked Melissa. And all of them could end up disappointed if Eve couldn’t figure out what to do with a woman in bed. There had to be a manual somewhere.
Then she remembered her earlier idea—learn with someone else. After all, Sammi had slept with a bunch of women. That’s how she’d learned. Eve only wanted Sammi, though. So she wouldn’t sleep with a bunch. Maybe she could find just one, one who was experienced, good in bed. But she didn’t know very many lesbians.
She felt Sammi’s lips on her hair, her hands stroking her back. Eve’s desire pulsed through her. It had to be soon.
One lesbian, Eve thought, who’s experienced in bed. Someone she knew.
Dusty.
Chapter Eighteen
Tess ran a brush through her hair and coaxed a few errant strands back into place. As she studied herself in the mirror of JoAnn’s downstairs bathroom, she realized how much more often she wore her hair loose instead of in the tightly wound braid she had kept it in for so long. She noticed how its waves around her face softened her features and more fully brought out the lushness of her brown eyes—her mother’s eyes. She knew this seemingly minor change in hairstyle reflected a more profound difference in how she expressed herself and knew she had Dusty to thank for this shift.
Dusty had given her that space to explore herself, the safety to let go, to decide who she wanted to be in any given moment. Tess now understood it was through that exploration of so many different possibilities that she had come to realize she didn’t have to be just one way. She could allow herself to flow more easily, more fluidly, through life.
JoAnn was the one who had brought it to her attention. One afternoon when they had been strolling through CityWalk Mall following a long lunch at the Hard Rock Cafe, Tess had kicked off her shoes and run into the sidewalk fountain where a group of children were playing. She hadn’t even known herself in that moment. She’d had no idea she was going to do it until she was standing in the midst of the shoots of water.
Three little boys squealed and pointed at her in evident surprise.
She splashed them then ducked their return assault. She spun and laughed. “Come on,” she called to JoAnn.
JoAnn scoffed. “This blouse cost a hundred and twenty-five dollars. I’m not ruining it by running through a fountain.”
It was only then that Tess remembered her own silk top and suede purse. She didn’t care. They could be replaced. This moment with these particular children would never come again.
“That’s one of the things I love about you,”
JoAnn told her later. “You’re so free.”
Me? Free? Tess had been stunned. That was the main complaint Alicia had voiced about her, that she never let go. Alicia had tried and tried. She had coaxed Tess, nagged her, even attempted bribery at times. “If you’ll run with me out into the waves with your clothes on, we can go anywhere you want for vacation.” Or, “Hey, that’s our song,” she pointed out one day in the grocery store. “Dance with me right here and I’ll buy you that watch you liked.”
Tess would never do those things, could never bring herself to do them. Now, she found herself doing things she never would have dreamed of before, and it was because of Dusty.
Dusty hadn’t nagged or bribed, though. She had merely been herself and let Tess be the same. At first, Tess simply watched. One afternoon in the backyard when Baxter was just a puppy, Kristin, a previous housemate of theirs, had been scolding him and shooing him away from her. Without hesitation, Dusty had called the puppy to her, dropped to the grass on all fours, taken the other end of his tug toy between her teeth, and begun to growl. The first genuine laugh since Alicia’s death found its way up through the layers of Tess’s grief. Kristin rolled her eyes, frowned, and went into the house. Dusty hadn’t seemed to notice anything.
Tess wondered if seeing Dusty be so free, in everything she did, had enabled Tess to muster up the courage for that first time she had kissed her. Even that was so unlike her, and yet, it was from there that connection between them had been created, allowing Tess the freedom to play and to explore sexually. It had built Tess’s confidence, her comfort with herself. And now, in so many other ways, so many places in her life, she no longer felt the need to remain so controlled.
She returned to the moment and smiled at her reflection. She was a new woman in many ways. She had decided the night of the Halloween party it was time to move forward, and though she had been disappointed when she and Dusty had been interrupted, she took it as a sign. In the two weeks since, she and JoAnn had been on several more dates and were enjoying getting to know one another on a more personal level. Tonight, however, was the first evening they had spent in the privacy of JoAnn’s home. Dinner had been delicious, the wine relaxing and seductive, JoAnn inviting. With all that, Tess still felt reluctant.
Her body was ready, no doubt. It tingled from the drink, the intimate setting, even the brush of fingertips and lips throughout the evening. Deep down, though, she still wished it were Dusty. In truth, even one month earlier, she would have invited Dusty into her bed tonight when she got home. A memory of those familiar lips, those skilled fingers that knew her so well, prowled the outskirts of her mind like a hungry wolf. She quickly banished it. That was over and those recollections a luxury she no longer permitted herself. She wouldn’t sleep with JoAnn while she still wanted it to be Dusty, but she would keep her attention on the lovely woman who clearly cared for her so much. Surely, she would get over Dusty soon. After all, as much as she had enjoyed what they had shared and grown from it, Dusty wasn’t someone she could have. With that final reminder, she dropped her brush back into her purse and left the bathroom.
She lingered in the living room doorway and watched JoAnn light an array of candles in an elaborate brass holder positioned in the center of the fireplace. The flickering flames cast the ambiance of warmth over the elegant white furnishings and the Persian rugs that covered the hardwood floor. Debussy’s “Clair de lune” played softly on the stereo. JoAnn knelt before the hearth and touched a match to the last wick. She wore a loose-fitting caftan the color of night, and the cream-colored embroidery brought out the highlights in her light brown hair. It wasn’t actual beauty that drew her attention to JoAnn, but there was something striking about the way her features enhanced one another and the poise with which she moved.
She turned to Tess. “You aren’t leaving, are you?”
“No.” Tess smiled. “I’m just admiring the scene.”
“Why, Tess Rossini.” JoAnn made a graceful shift to where a tray holding a bottle of wine and two glasses sat in front of the sofa. “I do believe this is the first time you’ve actually flirted with me.” Pleasure danced in her eyes. She patted the floor beside her.
“That can’t be.” Tess closed the space between them and eased down into the crook of JoAnn’s arm resting on the couch cushion. “I’ve flirted with you before.”
“No. You’ve been kind. You’ve been sweet. You’ve even been playful at times, but you’ve never actually flirted.” She leaned close and kissed Tess’s earlobe. “I like it.”
Tess’s body responded to the warmth of JoAnn’s breath on her neck. She tried to ignore it. “I still think you’re wrong.” She played it off, but she knew it was true. She knew how reserved she had been with JoAnn in that context. For so long, she had been aware of the feelings JoAnn had for her that she hadn’t been ready to reciprocate in any way, and more recently, even as they had begun to date, she had still been sleeping with Dusty and hadn’t wanted to give JoAnn the idea that she was ready to move their relationship into a sexual one. The mild flirtation that had just slipped past her lips had surprised her as much as it seemed to have surprised JoAnn. “But in case you’re right, maybe it’s time to remedy that.”
JoAnn chuckled. “You certainly won’t get any argument out of me.” She nuzzled Tess’s ear again then sat up. “More wine?” she asked, holding up the bottle.
Relief and disappointment mingled in Tess at JoAnn’s withdrawal. “Maybe just one more glass,” she said. “I do need to drive home.”
“Hm.” JoAnn glanced at Tess as she poured the light amber liquid. “I would say you don’t have to, but you know that.” She handed the drink to Tess. “But if you’re going to insist on it, I’m going to stay just a little bit over here.” She rested against the sofa again, this time keeping some distance between them.
Tess smiled. “Thank you. You’re very sweet to me.”
“Believe me,” JoAnn said with a laugh. “It isn’t for you.” She took a sip of wine. “I knew being this alone with you would be difficult. I just wanted you to myself without waiters interrupting or strangers all around us.”
“It’s been a very nice evening.” Tess took JoAnn’s free hand in hers and traced the knuckles with her thumb.
“Yes, it has.” JoAnn gazed at her then said abruptly, “And it isn’t over yet. I still have you to myself a little longer. Tell me how Maggie’s doing.”
Tess sighed at the thought of her friend. “She’s doing well. Better than I would be under the same circumstance, I think.” She swirled the wine in her glass. “Maggie has a wisdom that most people don’t have. She says she hopes Addison decides to come home, but she knows sometimes relationships aren’t forever.”
“I suppose that’s true enough. Is she really that matter-of-fact about it?”
“She’s pretty strong, but there are some mornings when it’s obvious she’s been crying.” Tess remembered waking to the sound of Maggie’s sobs through her open bedroom window one night and finding her outside at the patio table. When Tess sat beside her, Maggie had fallen into her arms. No words were spoken. Tess simply held her while she cried. She saw no reason to share that, though. “She’s also been fairly preoccupied with a friend who’s in the final stages of AIDS, so her emotions are fairly raw these days.”
“That’s a lot to handle all at once.” Candlelight reflected in the shimmer of JoAnn’s eyes.
Tess nodded. “Maggie’s a hospice volunteer, so she sees her role with Pete as one of support for him and not about her own grief, but still…”
“Has anyone heard from Addison?” JoAnn turned her hand in Tess’s loose grasp and caressed her palm.
“I’ve called her a couple of times and left messages. She called me back once and said she was well. It was awkward, though. I’m closer to Maggie than Addison, so I’m not someone with whom she’d probably share a lot about her activities or feelings these days.”
JoAnn squeezed Tess’s fingers. “I’m sure she has other
friends.”
“Of course.” She had wondered if Dusty had been in touch with Addison. Dusty had been furious at her the night of the party when Eve had taken them up to Maggie’s room and they found out what had happened. Had she and Addison spoken since then? That had also been the night Tess resigned herself to end her involvement with Dusty, so they hadn’t been alone for her to ask. Who was she kidding? She had been avoiding Dusty because she didn’t trust herself to be alone with her. “She does have friends,” Tess said. “I’m sure she’s fine. I do miss her around the house, though.”
“It’s nice you’re not taking sides,” JoAnn said quietly.
“There are no sides.” Tess shook her head. “They’re both my friends, and I want both of them to be happy. I’d like it if they can still be happy together, but if not…” She shrugged. “I have another friend who says we never know enough to judge.”
JoAnn’s eyes held Tess’s. She seemed to be listening still, but her gaze shifted to Tess’s lips. Without a word, she leaned in and pressed them to her own.
Tess drew in a sharp breath as the heat rose in her body. She felt JoAnn’s tongue slip into her mouth. She tasted of chardonnay, citrus salmon, and desire. Her own arousal pulsed through her, pooled in her center. She had realized earlier that it had been over a month since the last time she and Dusty had truly been together, and it had struck her in that moment that Dusty had spoiled her. For almost a year, Dusty had been, for all intents and purposes, at her beck and call sexually. Whenever Tess wanted closeness, affection, or just release, all she had needed to do was send Dusty a look, meet her in the hall, or leave her a note under her door, and nothing had been asked of her in return. Now, here was JoAnn—kissing her, moving closer, slipping her hand around Tess’s waist but also wanting more, wanting a commitment, wanting Tess’s heart. Tess’s heart, however, was not what was foremost in Tess’s mind.
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