by Gerri Hill
With their eyes locked together, Casey was unable to speak, unable to think.
“So you won’t get over it this weekend. But you have got to give me some time to get my life sorted out, Casey. Please don’t run from this.” She closed her eyes. “Please don’t doubt me. I’m doing the best I can here.”
Casey finally moved, lifting her hand and touching Leslie’s face. She let her fingers move gently across her skin, aware it was the most intimate touch they’d shared. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s not a game for me, Casey. But I’m not ready for this yet, and I don’t think you’re ready.” She covered Casey’s hand with her own, holding it close. “I don’t want to screw this up. I don’t want to hurt you or me, and I don’t want to ruin our new friendship over this. But we’re not ready yet.”
“I know.” She reached for her. “Come here.”
She was right. Everything she said was so right. No, they probably weren’t ready for a physical relationship. Because it wasn’t going to be just physical. And they had a working relationship to deal with as well. It occurred to her that any sane person would have ended things right then before they even got started. But a sane person hadn’t looked into her eyes, hadn’t seen the glimmer of desire, hadn’t been innocently touched by her, causing her own desire to flare. A sane person couldn’t possibly see past the fear in her eyes to see the promise.
So she pulled her close, wrapping her arms around Leslie’s body and just held her, letting their bodies get acquainted with each other. No, they weren’t ready. But it felt so good to hold her, to hear her heartbeat, to feel her breath, and to feel her tremble, just from being close.
Imagine what making love would be like.
She pulled back, needing to end this before her body took over, but Leslie’s fingers threaded through her hair, touching her, pulling her back, pulling her close again.
“Kiss me.”
Casey stared at her lips. Was it a command? Or had she only imagined it? But no, Leslie’s lips parted, Leslie’s hand at her neck guided her, beckoning her. She didn’t resist. She took what was offered. She just wasn’t prepared for the softness, for the aching sweetness that greeted her. She moaned. Or was it Leslie? She lifted her head, staring into those dark eyes that were swimming in desire, wondering if Leslie’s thoughts were as jumbled as her own at the moment.
But then Leslie pulled her back down, and a fire was ignited. Her mouth opened, her tongue demanding entry, and Leslie complied, her hands roaming freely, pulling Casey tight against her. Any restraint she was clinging to vanished as her own hands slipped down to Leslie’s hips, grasping her, pulling her hard against her body.
She felt Leslie’s hands digging into her back, heard the nearly primal sounds coming from her throat as their hips melded together. She pulled her mouth away, needing to breathe, needing to think, but Leslie’s thighs parted, and she lost her will to think. She clutched Leslie’s hips, pulling her hard against her leg, imagining the wetness she would find there as Leslie ground herself against her.
Mentally they weren’t ready, no, but God, physically, they were about to explode. When was the last time she’d felt this kind of fire from kissing a woman? They were so close, clinging to each other, she wasn’t even sure where her body ended and Leslie’s began. But when Leslie lifted her shirt and she felt the cool night air against her skin, when she felt the burning warmth of Leslie’s fingers as they crept higher, she knew they should stop. She could tell by Leslie’s actions that her body had taken over her mind, overriding her sensibilities as their passion raged.
But this wasn’t how she wanted their first time to be, a hurried encounter out on her deck, as if they were sneaking around, as if it was some sort of an affair. No. She wanted Leslie to be able to give herself freely, not have to feel guilty for making love so hurriedly just because their need to touch had become too much. So she tore her mouth from Leslie’s, taking her hands and holding them between their bodies, trying to still her racing heart.
“Oh, God,” Leslie whispered. “I’m sorry. I—”
“Shhh, no. And stopping has nothing to do with being gallant on my part.” She bent her head, lightly brushing Leslie’s lips with her own again. “I just didn’t want our first time to be like this.”
Leslie stepped away, her eyes wild. “I completely lost my mind there.” She tried to smile. “I knew it would be like that with you. I knew my body would react like that.” She walked to the railing, leaning over, catching her breath. “I’ve never wanted someone so much before like that.” She turned back around. “I thought I would be afraid.”
“Afraid of me?”
“Afraid of this,” she said. “Of us.”
“We can take it as slow as you need, Les.”
She smiled. “Slow? I don’t think my body understands that word.” She straightened. “I should go. Before we…”
Casey nodded. “I know.”
Leslie stopped when she got to the steps of the deck and turned back around. “You’re an awesome kisser, by the way.”
She fled then, leaving Casey smiling after her.
Awesome, huh?
Chapter Thirty
The nonchalance she tried to exhibit to Casey as she left faded as soon as she got in her car. She sat for a moment, holding the steering wheel, her mind spinning.
“My, God,” she whispered.
Was it supposed to be that intense?
Without thinking, she shoved her hands between her legs, squeezing hard, her body still reeling from Casey’s touch. She could feel the unfamiliar wetness between her legs, could still feel the heat., and her body cried out for release.
“Oh God,” she groaned as she pressed the seam of her jeans tight against her. Stop!
She jerked her hands away, trying to calm herself. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, hardly recognizing the look in her eyes.
“I want her,” she whispered. Then she smiled. You don’t say?
But her humor faded as she drove away. She had to tell Michael. How she was going to tell him, she had no idea. Because she had no desire to hurt him. But what man would understand this?
When she got home and found it quiet, she assumed he’d gone up to Jeff’s. She hadn’t called him. He would have had no idea it was an early night for her. Her hope that he was gone, giving her a chance to rehearse what she needed to tell him, was short-lived, however. She screamed as he grabbed her from behind and pulled her against him.
“Michael! You’re wet.”
“I just got out of the shower.” He spun her around, kissing her hard. “And I’m feeling frisky. Come on, we haven’t had sex in ages.”
“Michael, what are you doing? Now?”
“Yes, now. Why not now?” He kissed her again. “Let’s do it before you get a headache, or claim you’re too tired, or any other excuse you can think of.”
Leslie forcibly pushed him away. “I didn’t know that I needed an excuse not to have sex. It’s still a choice, right?” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, his bruising kiss replacing the soft touch of Casey’s.
“Come on. You know what I mean. You always have some reason lately. The last time we did, you started crying.” He leaned against the wall. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”
This wasn’t how she envisioned having this talk. Not with him wanting sex and her having to defend herself. She looked away for a second, remembering Casey’s touch, her kiss. No, she couldn’t put it off any longer.
“Michael, I don’t want to have sex with you,” she said quietly. “It just doesn’t feel right to me.”
“Right? What doesn’t? Sex?”
She tucked her hands under her arms, not able to look at him. “Not just sex, Michael. Everything. Us. I’m having second thoughts about this,” she said weakly, hating herself for not being able to just tell him.
“About the wedding?” He took a step closer. “Are you kidding me?”
“Michael, it’s jus
t not right with us. Can’t you feel that?” She finally looked at him, meeting his eyes. “I mean, what are we doing here? I feel like we’re just going through the motions.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about us, Michael. Can you name me one thing we have in common? Just one,” she said. She watched as his brow furrowed and he wet his lips nervously.
Finally he smiled. “We both like movies.”
“You like movies.”
“All right. Well, we both like to go out to eat.”
“Good Lord, Michael, that’s because neither of us cooks.” She grabbed his arm, squeezing hard as if that would make him understand. “The closest thing we have in common is when football season comes around and I like to watch the game with you. With you and Jeff and Miles and Russell, that is.” She dropped her hand. “Don’t you see, Michael? You love your games, your big TV, your season tickets, your friends. We’re here in this apartment because Jeff and the guys live here. We could afford a house, but you didn’t want to. Because you love it here.”
“It’s a nice apartment. I didn’t see the need in rushing into a house.”
“Oh, Michael, that’s not the point. It’s us. Do we even really know each other?” She raised her hands. “Do I want to have kids?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess.”
She stared at him. “Do you?”
“Well, someday, yeah. I guess so.”
She gave a sad smile. “Isn’t it strange that we never talked about that? Who plans to get married and they don’t even know if the other wants kids or not?”
“Leslie, I think you’re blowing this a little out of proportion here, don’t you?” His eyes narrowed. “Did you start your period again?”
“No, Michael, this isn’t about my hormones.” She took a deep breath. “I’m trying to tell you that I can’t marry you.” She knew he would be upset. She expected that. But the look of devastation that crossed his face was nearly too much for her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“You want to call off the wedding?” he asked quietly. “You want to…break up?”
She met his eyes. “Yes.” And of course, his next question was not unexpected.
“You’ve met someone, haven’t you?”
But she’d inflicted enough wounds for one night. There was no need to tell him about Casey or about the lie she’d been living. So she shook her head. “This has nothing to do with meeting someone else, Michael. It’s just about us. And we just don’t fit together.”
He slammed his fist down on the counter. “And you’ve just now come to that conclusion? Just woke up one morning and it hit you?”
She deserved his anger, yes. But it was still shocking. He’d never once raised his voice with her. She kept her voice even, her gaze steady. “I think we should stop right here, Michael. Before either of us says something we’ll regret.”
He lowered his head. “I’m sorry. I just can’t believe this,” he whispered. “It’s just out of the blue.”
“Think about it, Michael. Is it really out of the blue? Think about it.”
He rubbed his head, brushing the hair off of his forehead over and over again, his eyes darting nervously around the room. “Well, I…I can go stay with Jeff. You can stay here. We can—”
“No. This is your apartment, not mine. I’m just going to pack a few clothes and I’ll get a room for the weekend. Next week, we’ll talk. We’ll see about our stuff,” she said. God, how can breaking up be so civilized?
But no, it wasn’t. Suddenly, the look in his eyes changed. He grabbed her arm tightly.
“I think we’re just giving up too fast. We’re not fighting for this. Let’s go to counseling,” he said, holding her in front of him. “We’ve got too much invested to just throw it away like this.”
She stared at him. “No, Michael. Counseling will not help.”
“Why not? Why won’t you even try?” He dropped his hands from her, still staring at her. “I don’t understand how you can just quit on this without trying? Don’t you care even a little?”
“Michael—”
“I’ll set us up an appointment. We can go to a couple of sessions, just see what we can do to change things. Come on,” he pleaded.
“No. We can’t change things.”
“Yes, we can,” he insisted. “We can. If we—”
“Michael, stop it!” she said, grabbing his arm. “Michael, we can’t change, because…because I’m a lesbian.”
Michael’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. He stared at her, questions flooding his eyes. But the silence was too much.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“No. You’re just saying that. You’re just using that as an excuse. You’re no lesbian. My God, we’ve been living together, we’re fucking engaged. Lesbians don’t get engaged,” he said loudly.
“No. I guess normally they wouldn’t get engaged.” She swallowed hard. “I take full responsibility, Michael. And all the blame. You have done nothing wrong.”
“No! Lesbians don’t have sex with men,” he yelled. “I just can’t believe you think you’re gay.” He laughed bitterly. “Is that the excuse you came up with to break up with me? That you’re gay?” He ran his hands through his hair again. “Jesus, Leslie. How about you want to become a nun or something? I might believe that. But no, you’re not fucking gay.” He pointed his finger at her. “And don’t you dare tell any of our friends that. I won’t let you make a joke out of me.” He spun away, and she heard him in their bedroom, pulling on jeans and shoes. Soon, the sound of his keys jingling and the front door opening.
And then the slam.
She knew it was coming and she still jumped from the force of it. She took a deep breath, rubbing her face with her hands, trying to get rid of some of the tension. It didn’t work.
“That didn’t go well,” she murmured. But she couldn’t blame him. She would be just as shocked if he had announced he was gay.
But surely he could tell. Over the years, couldn’t he tell that she wasn’t as responsive to him as she should be? He’d slept with plenty of women before her. Surely he knew what it was supposed to be like? Surely he could tell she was faking it.
“Oh, God.” She felt like such a fraud. Which she was, of course. And he had every right to hate her. In reality, she’d just wasted nearly four years of his life.
And four years of yours.
No, truth be told, she’d wasted nearly fourteen years of her life, ever since she rejected Carol Ann and all that she stood for. Ever since she tried to hide under the heterosexual cloak and pretend she was perfectly happy. Ever since she ran from what she was and tried to be something she surely was not.
A straight woman.
So, without ceremony, she slipped his ring from her finger, clutching it in her palm for several long seconds before opening her hand, watching the light bounce off the diamond, mocking her. Strangely, just the simple act of removing the ring seemed to free her.
Chapter Thirty-One
“Oh, my,” she whispered, lowering her sunglasses to take in the full effect of Casey mowing the lawn in nothing but a sports bra and skimpy shorts. Her body was as tanned and toned as she suspected it would be. And the sight of it caused her libido to stir to life. Oh, my.
She got out of her car, smiling a greeting at an older man sitting on his porch watching Casey. This must be the Mr. Gunter whose lawn needed mowing. She walked up the sidewalk, past the perfectly manicured flowerbeds that were still overflowing with lush flowers even this late in September. The man stood when she reached his porch, holding out his hand in a friendly greeting.
“I’m here for Casey,” she explained.
He nodded. “Sit,” he said loudly as the buzz of Casey’s mower came closer.
She saw her then and Leslie noticed the startled look cross her face. Startled because she was sitting in a chair beside Mr. Gunter, or startled to even see her at all, she wasn’t sure which. Leslie smiled,
then in an exaggerated show, let her eyes follow the length of Casey’s body, past the ridiculously charming bright purple bra, the smooth, tanned stomach, the tiny baggy shorts that hugged her hips, and down the seemingly endless length of legs to a pair of old, ratty, grass-stained shoes. Oh, my. And the blush that covered Casey’s face at her appraisal simply added to the allure. Casey held up two fingers and pointed to the yard. Leslie nodded.
“She’s just about done,” he said.
Leslie leaned closer to him. “You must be Mr. Gunter. I’m Leslie Tucker,” she said loudly. “A friend of Casey’s.”
He smiled and nodded, then leaned back in his chair, his eyes following Casey around the yard. At first, she assumed he was enjoying the sight of Casey in near undress—much like she was. But then she realized there was a bit of pride in his eyes, much like a father might watch a daughter. She wondered what their relationship was. Obviously friendly enough for Casey to mow his lawn. Was he a widower?
After two more spins around the yard, Casey killed the mower. She leaned casually on it, watching her.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Detective Tucker?”
“I thought maybe I could take you to lunch, Detective O’Connor.”
“Lunch?” She came closer, her smile widening. She glanced at Mr. Gunter. “What do you think, Ronnie?”
“She’s pretty,” he said. “I’d take her up on it if I were you.”
Casey nodded in agreement. “She is pretty, isn’t she? Okay. Lunch.”
Leslie wrinkled up her nose. “But you are going to…you know,” she said, pointing at her.
“Shower? Yes, I’m going to shower. I’ll let Ronnie entertain you.” She pushed the mower back across the lawn, then stopped. “And, Ronnie, no secrets,” she called over her shoulder. “She doesn’t need to know everything.”