The Wedding Party

by Tracey Richardson

  She moved lower, lingeringly touching her breasts to Amanda’s stomach before moving further south. She wanted her first touch of Amanda down there to be with her tongue, not her fingers. She needed to taste Amanda’s desire, have it dissolve on her tongue like a holy host. She needed to possess her with her mouth. Amanda’s thighs were already quivering in anticipation when Claire’s mouth claimed her.

  “Oh, Claire.”

  Hearing her name on Amanda’s lips in breathless capitulation gave her a jolt of satisfaction. Oh, Claire. The words repeated in her head; it was like being welcomed home. And it was home, Amanda’s sex seeming so familiar to her, so right, so wonderful. She breathed her in, instantly intoxicated, and with her tongue explored every contour and every texture, stroked her until Amanda’s fingers were in her hair pulling her hard against her, urging her on. Her tongue worked in tiny circles, flicked lightly, then hard, fast and faster yet, the salt of Amanda’s desire mixing with her own saliva. Thank God it was all coming back to her. She was inordinately pleased she was giving Amanda so much pleasure. She didn’t want to stop. She wanted to pleasure Amanda all night long like this, tasting her, pushing her over the edge, letting Amanda’s fingers dig into her scalp, pulling at her. Amanda wanted her. Only she could satisfy Amanda right now. It was heavenly.

  “I need you inside,” Amanda urged roughly.

  Yes. She needed to be inside her too when she climaxed, needed to feel with her mouth and fingers Amanda’s shudders break through her body, like turbulent waves crashing to shore. The warmth and wetness that greeted her fingers were divine. Heat and velvet. She danced inside Amanda, matching her fingers’ rhythm with her tongue. Within minutes Amanda was writhing wildly, crying out, shuddering and bucking beneath her. She was hot lava spilling over, igniting Claire’s own desire. She wanted Amanda to possess her as she had just possessed Amanda.

  “Come here,” Amanda murmured.

  They kissed deeply, Amanda clutching her tightly to her chest. There were tears on Amanda’s cheeks.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes.” Amanda nodded happily through her tears. “You make me so happy. You make me want you so much. So, so much. You make me want everything.”

  Yes, and I want you too, my sweet girl. But she would not think about the incredible happiness in her heart and body right now. It was new terrain, or least terrain she had not visited in a long while, and she was afraid to feel too much right now. Everything in moderation had been her motto all her life. But there was no moderation in making love with Amanda. No moderation in her bursting heart right now either.

  “I need to make love to you,” Amanda whispered urgently. “I won’t be happy until you’re happy.”

  There was that damned word again, happy. Well, defining happy and accepting being happy could wait. Satisfied, content, pleasured, turned on, needing release, needing Amanda’s touch

  . . . those she could let herself be immersed in. Those things were safe.

  Amanda’s touches were bold, confident, full of tenderness. Claire closed her eyes to the waves of pleasure that were ceaseless and only grew in intensity. She had not known there was such want, such red-hot desire within her, nor that Amanda was the only person who could feed those cravings. But she knew now, and with Amanda’s mouth on her and fingers inside her, Claire was falling through time and space, her mind separating from the fierce pleasure ripping through her body and floating on nothingness. When orgasm came, she felt connected again, like all the pieces of the puzzle had converged within her. Amanda brought the pieces of her together. Amanda made her feel again.

  Afterward they lay silently wrapped in one another’s arms, and Claire’s mind began to solidify and form thoughts again. It occurred to her that this was like wedding sex, this consummation of their desire and feelings for one another. She had never had a wedding night, but Amanda had. Amanda had married someone and had shared a wedding night with another woman, and the knowledge saddened her a little.

  “Are you okay?” Amanda asked, as if sensing Claire’s unease.

  She tightened her arms around Amanda. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “You sure? I mean, I know this is a big step for you.”

  She meant Ann. Yes, making love with someone who wasn’t Ann was a huge step, not counting the brief tryst she’d had at the medical conference last year. This was the first time someone had truly competed with Ann for her love, for her body, for her soul. She didn’t yet understand what that meant for her. Did it erase her love for Ann? Was there only room for one love—one lover—in her life, in her heart, forever? Could she even begin to think of starting over with someone else? Those, she supposed, were the real issues, and not Amanda’s age difference or her relation to Shannon. Amanda was no kid; she was a woman. A woman who loved women, a woman whose entire future was still ahead of her, an intelligent and kind woman who was falling for Claire. She was offering the gift of herself to Claire.

  Claire kissed the top of Amanda’s head. “I’m just sleepy, that’s all.”

  They slept soundly, pressed against one another, and when they awoke early they made love again, much more familiar this time with each other’s bodies. There was no denying the love in Amanda’s eyes and the love Claire conveyed in her caresses and strokes. This was no transient affair, and the prospect of what might lay ahead frightened Claire. She had stepped onto a path from which it would be very difficult to turn back.

  Over room service breakfast, Claire summoned her courage and, in a less certain voice, told Amanda that she was not ready to move forward with their relationship in a public way.

  Amanda, hurt, said, “You mean we’re supposed to sneak around or something?”

  “No.” Claire hesitated, not at all sure what she meant, only that she wasn’t ready to announce their relationship to the world. She wanted to take things slowly, a step at a time.

  “We can talk to my aunt together. She might need a little time to get used to the idea, but I know she’ll be supportive of us.”

  Shannon was only a small part of the issue. “No,” Claire repeated. “It’s more than Shannon.” It was about her whole life and the need to go slow.

  “Okay.” Amanda’s tone softened and she snuggled closer to Claire. “I’m not trying to rush you. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. In fact, I want you to be as insanely happy and sure about this as I am.”

  “You do make me happy.” But the real question was, was she ready to allow herself to be truly happy?

  “I do make you happy, but at the same time I don’t. You feel guilty for feeling happy, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I need some time to figure it out. To figure out how to be happy. I’m out of practice.”

  Amanda sighed miserably. In her silence, she seemed resigned to the fact that Claire’s fears were once again pushing them apart.

  “I’m sorry,” Claire said feebly. It was all she could think to say, knowing full well it was not enough. She simply wasn’t capable of making any promises, commitments, right now. Amanda would have to patient. Or not.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Jordan

  It was a rewarding kind of exhaustion—staying up late talking from their hearts, then holding one another through what remained of the night. They made love well after the sun came up with an energy that surprised them both. Yielding was more like being conquered, touches were rough and demanding, hurried. There was a possessiveness and wildness and urgency to their lovemaking, as if they were truly, finally, laying claim to one another, and with a permanence this time. A trail of tiny bruises was left behind, their exhaustion now bone weary. They lay in each other’s arms, limp but completely satiated.

  “I don’t think I could ever get enough of you,” Jordan admitted, and it was the absolute truth. She would never tire of Dez. “You’re so beautiful.”

  “You’re beautiful too, and I don’t want you to ever get enough of me.”

  “Ah-ha, so you will be complicit in me keep
ing you in bed all day.”

  “Is there a reason we have to get up?”

  “No. Well, I guess I should say goodbye to the others. They’re heading back to Chicago today.”

  “Speaking of Chicago, I have a question for you.” Dez traced a finger along the inside of Jordan’s palm. “How come no woman ever captured you before now?”

  That was easy. “I never wanted to be captured. I never thought being captured was something I’d ever want.”

  “And now?”

  Jordan grinned at her lover. “Now I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

  “I’m a very lucky woman that you decided it was worth being captured.”

  “We’re both lucky.” Jordan thought back to her morning with Krissy last weekend and how that had changed everything. She told Dez the story, admitted her shame and how the event turned out to be a catalyst to changing her ways.

  “Sometimes,” Dez said, “it takes something ugly to make us wake up and change our lives. I certainly know all about that.”

  “But the important thing is reaching the destination, not in how you get there.”

  “Yes.” Dez smiled. “Not only are you beautiful and a wonderful lover, but you’re wise too.”

  Jordan laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called wise before.”

  Dez raised herself up on one elbow, a tiny frown surfacing. “I guess we need to talk logistics, huh?”

  “I have a two-bedroom condo here in town. I don’t have to leave anytime soon.”

  “That’s good to know, but the problem is, I do.”

  Jordan’s stomach turned over. “What do you mean?”

  “Another week. I’m supposed to do a nine-week tour across Europe—France and Germany. Amsterdam too.”

  “Shit.” Jordan had not expected this, but she supposed she should have, given Dez’s line of work. She’d had the unreasonable fantasy that they’d hang out in Vegas for weeks or months, Dez singing, Jordan going to her concerts and conducting her real estate business from here. She’d envisioned cooking for Dez, running a bath for her after her shows, making love to her half the night, waking up together followed by lazy mornings by the pool. She’d not been expecting reality to encroach on their lives so soon. “Nine weeks?”

  “Afraid so, darling. If I could get out of it I would, but I signed a contract.”

  Jordan believed her—the part about wanting to get out of it, but she was still scared. She didn’t want to lose Dez all over again. “I feel like I just found you and now you’re leaving.”

  “I’m not going anywhere here, where it counts.” Dez pressed Jordan’s hand to her chest.

  “Promise?”

  “Yes. In fact, why don’t you come with me?”

  “Can’t. I’ve got too much business on the go right now.” Deals would fall through if she left now. Important deals that she’d been working on for months.

  “We’ll find a way to work this out, I promise.”

  Jordan couldn’t quite stop herself from thinking the worst. Thinking that if she lost Dez, she’d never be able to find this kind of love again. That she’d walk through empty rooms, a shadow of herself, looking for Dez and never being satisfied with anyone else. She’d be a ghost. She wasn’t yet used to how much she needed Dez.

  Dez wiped a tear from Jordan’s cheek. “It’s okay, honey. We’ll make it through this as long as you believe in me. In us. I love you and I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize that.”

  “I do believe in you and in us. I guess I’m thinking that somehow I’m destined to get hurt, and that I deserve it, because of the crap I’ve put other women through.”

  “My grandma always told me you can never be truly happy as long as you think you don’t deserve it. We can never feel guilty for being happy, okay? So get that other nonsense out of your head.”

  Jordan leaned over and kissed her. “How about you help me take my mind off all those other things?”

  “I’d love to, baby. But there is one more thing I want you to think about first. Actually, two things. I want you to at least come over to Europe and join me on the tour for a week or two. And then I want you and me to sit down and figure out a plan where we can be together and both do the work we love. Can you do that?”

  Jordan laughed, relief like a bolt of sunshine parting the clouds in her heart. “Yes to both. But can we think about those a little later? There’s something I want to do first.”

  Dez rolled onto her back. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Dani

  They were both famished, not waiting for Heather before starting breakfast. It was nothing new for her to be late.

  “So,” Dani said to Shannon, swallowing another bite of scrambled egg. “How does it feel to be married, my love?”

  “Wonderful! Like everything I thought it would feel like and more.”

  “The legal piece of paper would be nice. That’s the only thing that’s missing as far as I’m concerned.”

  “I know. But we’ll get that piece of paper in Canada this summer, and then as soon as we can in Illinois. They’ve got to get on the right side of history one of these years.”

  She wondered how many other gay couples were getting married in Canada or in one of the few states that allowed it. She wondered if, once it ever became legal across the land, there would be a stampede of gay couples to the altar. Jordan was someone who’d never given a rat’s ass about a legal marriage being available to her, but now, Dani wondered with amusement, perhaps Jordan’s thoughts would turn to marriage. She’d noticed Jordan and Dez reunite at the wedding reception, and she couldn’t be happier for Jordan.

  “I guess you noticed Jordan’s in love with Dez Adams?” She hadn’t had a chance to discuss it with Shannon until now.

  Shannon shook her head, smiling. “Oh yeah, how could you not? You could practically see the sparks flying between them last night. I’m shocked that Jordan actually had it in her.”

  “I am too a little. But I think all her smart-ass remarks about love were really just a cover. She either never thought it would happen to her, or she never thought she’d be able to do it.”

  “Well, she’ll be eating crow now.”

  “Or eating something.” Dani grinned and raised her eyebrows suggestively at Shannon.

  Heather sauntered up to their table, a small parcel tucked under her arm, and took a seat. “What’d I interrupt?”

  “Nothing, just a little gossip,” Dani replied.

  “What? Who got laid last night?”

  “Besides you?” Dani quipped.

  “Yes, besides me.”

  Dani shook her head and laughed. “The young bartender?”

  Heather frowned. “I don’t kiss and tell, okay?”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  Shannon nodded at the package Heather had set down on the table. “What’ve you got?”

  It wasn’t large but there was something heavy and ominous about it. It was addressed to Dani and Shannon. “When I went by the front desk they asked me to give it to you. It came last night.”

  There was no return address on the package. Dani set it aside, figuring it was probably a stray wedding gift. “Sorry we started without you, Heather. We were starving.”

  “No problem. My stomach isn’t up to eating right now but I would absolutely murder someone for a cup of coffee.”

  “Feeling a little hung over this morning?”

  Heather stuck out her tongue. “What do you think, Einstein?”

  “I’ll bet you’re a little sore too. Gets a little harder to do the limbo every year, huh?” Dani teased.

  “I should hope you two are a little sore. I’m actually surprised you’re here. I figured honeymoon sex would keep you in that room till it was time to head to the airport.”

  Shannon winked at Dani before she answered. “Honestly, we were too tired for sex. This getting married thing is downright exhausting.”

  Heather laughed,
then squawked in pain. “Damn, it hurts to laugh. Hey, trust me, you aren’t the first newlyweds in the world too tired to do it after the wedding.”

  An older Latina waitress came by with a pot of coffee. Heather practically tackled her. “Oh, thank God! I’m going to die if I don’t have coffee right this minute.”

  “Honey, the only thing that sells as well as alcohol in this place is coffee,” the waitress answered.

  “Yeah, well, I can believe that. So . . .” Heather turned her attention back to Dani and Shannon, the cup of coffee cradled like gold between her hands. “How does it feel to be Mrs. and Mrs. . . . Are you going to hyphenate your names or what?”

  “We’re keeping our own names for now.” Dani glanced at the shiny band of gold on her hand. She hoped she never got used to the delight of seeing it there. Already it felt like it’d been there for years. “It feels great to be married. Should have done it a long time ago.”

  “Well, our damned laws haven’t exactly been making it easy for you. Hey, why don’t you open that package? Looks like it’s probably a gift or something.”

  As Dani opened the package, a note slipped out. From the Desk of Mary Sedgewick, it said in italic script. Her youngest sister. Casting the note aside, she lifted out a Bible wrapped in white tissue, white hand-tooled leather with gold lettering.

  “For fuck’s sake! Mary’s sent us a Bible. How wonderful. Even less useful than the third cappuccino maker we got.” Would her family never learn?

  “Calm down,” Heather said. “It’s just a Bible. I mean, think about it, what else would Mary give you as a wedding present? A dildo?”

  “That is so not funny. She knows how I feel about religion, especially the kind that thinks we’re sinners for loving each other. Sending me a Bible is an insult. It’s bullshit.”

  After a moment, Shannon said, “Heather’s right. We should give Mary the benefit of the doubt. I’m sure she thought she was being kind.”