Anything Your Heart Desires

by AJ Adaire

  “And you know why? That's what they are. They’re regular women who happen to be lesbians. Don't get hung up on labels. There are many of them—butch, femme, lipstick lesbian, blue jean lesbian, androgynous, and soft butch. The list goes on and on.”

  “What's the difference between a femme and a lipstick lesbian?”

  Jo inhaled a deep breath, expelling it slowly. “Well, femme used to refer to a woman who was more feminine and who preferred to sleep with women who portrayed a more masculine demeanor, probably what would be referred to as butch. Lipstick lesbian is, I guess, a more current term originally coined to refer to a feminine woman who preferred to sleep with another feminine women. Today, I think those two terms have intermingled and are pretty much used interchangeably.” Jo chuckled. “You're really testing me here. I don't usually keep up on all the terminology. I'm not really into labels, myself.” She shrugged. “Over the past years I've met some pretty masculine looking women who, when I've gotten to know them, are actually more femme than I’d expect from their appearance. Despite appearances, some actually think of themselves as femmes.”

  Stacy absorbed the information “So, it's not important to you if a woman is more feminine or masculine? How would you classify yourself and the others?”

  “Wow! Tough questions this morning. Let me finish my cereal.” Jo ate the last few spoonsful of her cereal and took a sip of her tea. “There, that’s better. Ok, let’s see. My tastes and our group…” Jo exhaled. “Personally, I'm not particularly attracted to butch women. Mostly I seem to be drawn to women shorter than me and maybe a bit softer. As to how I'd classify my friends. Gee, I never thought about it. What would you think?”

  Stacy thought a moment. “Hmm, I'm not sure. Dana is definitely very feminine. At first glance, Nic is more androgynous looking, although, as you get to know her, she’s really much softer than I assumed she'd be when I first met her. Mallory is feminine but more umm, I think I'd say athletic, like you. You and she give a stronger presentation than say Dana or Amanda, although neither of you is masculine looking or acting.”

  Jo chuckled. “Good descriptions of each. Again, they were descriptions, not labels. That's a good thing, I think. I don't really like labels, because those we apply may not be how someone actually is or, more importantly, how someone really self identifies. I've never thought to myself that I'm looking for a soft butch or a femme or a sporty dyke, or a whatever. I seem to like a specific type of woman, much like you'd probably be attracted to a particular type of man.

  “I don't seem to be meeting any men I find I'm interested in becoming involved with at this point in time.” She displayed her dimple for Jo's enjoyment. “Anyway, you never answered my question.”

  Jo arched an eyebrow. “You mean about the type of woman I'm attracted to?”

  Stacy nodded.

  Jo thought back to her encounter with Meg and how, although she liked Meg personally, she wasn't attracted to her physically mostly because of her height and maybe she came off less feminine than what she preferred. “Well, I don’t really have a type per se. I seem to be attracted to women who are shorter than I am and who have curves. I'm generally not drawn to thin, bony women. Hair and eye color are not that important. They don't have to be beautiful. I tend to be attracted more by their personality. My first girlfriend was really rather plain. She had a beautiful smile and a sexy mouth.” She smiled at the memory and then frowned when she recalled how it ended.

  Stacy looked into her teacup, finding it empty. “More tea?”

  “Please.”

  As Stacy filled the kettle, she asked, “Have you had a lot of girlfriends?”

  Jo smiled playfully. “Define a lot.”

  “Um, more than five and less than ten.”

  “Define girlfriend,” Jo grinned.

  “Humph! Let's limit it to women with whom you had what you would consider a relationship of more than one night in duration.”

  They both laughed.

  Jo sobered and turned serious. “I won't deny that I've had more than one or two one night stands in my time. Most were when I was younger. That's not really my style. Like I told you, I tend to find sex more pleasurable with someone I care about. The other can sometimes meet the need. Not for sex specifically, just that need for physical closeness. You know, the need to be held and touched that sometimes, I don't know, that just helps stave off loneliness I guess. As a policewoman, upon occasion, I've felt the need to connect with someone to help erase something distasteful I've seen. For me, sex is as much emotional as physical. It’s not the actual sex act itself, it’s more the physical need to touch and be touched, to connect that I want. Unfortunately, it's not what you get in a quick grab and tussle, is it?”

  There was a lull. Jo marveled at what she’d just revealed to Stacy. Their conversations seemed to always come to a level of shared intimacies. “I know I haven't exactly answered your question about how many meaningful relationships I've had. I promise I will. Before I do that, will you answer a question for me? Have you ever felt that way?”

  “You mean lonely? The need to connect?”

  “Yes, I'm curious if it's a universal need or just a product of my being a cop.”

  “Sure, I've felt it.” Stacy hesitated as she organized her feelings into a coherent sentence. “I think to be loved, cherished, comforted, and paired is basic human need we all have. I’m not sure, maybe it's because I've just never dated the right guy. I've always felt like a sexual relationship with a man is a negotiation, more like a barter than a true sharing. I give him sex, and he gives me physical affection in exchange.” Stacy smiled ruefully. “So far, that's never been exactly what I need. Unfortunately, they seem to only want to give affection to the parts they like to play with.” She cupped her breasts, and with a giggle she said, “Like here and the other obvious place.”

  “Yes, I understand your feelings. I guess things are more alike for us than might be apparent on the surface. We seem to want the same things.”

  The kettle whistled and Stacy filled their cups with hot water.

  Jo smiled. “And to answer your question, two.”

  Stacy frowned. “Two what?”

  “Two meaningful relationships of more than one night duration.”

  “Will you tell me about them?” Stacy, tea in hand, returned to the counter and slid Jo’s cup towards her.

  “More research?

  “No.” Stacy shook her head in denial. Softly she said, “No. I'd just like to know, for me.”

  Jo nodded, taking in a deep breath then exhaled it forcefully. “Okay, I fell in love in college. Mary. We went into the Academy together. I thought we'd be together forever.”

  “What happened?”

  “Carlotta happened. Mary left me for someone else who didn't believe in the sanctity of a relationship. I swore to myself I would never do that to another human being. Then and there I created the first of the two rules I live by. Rule number one, be true to the person you love, and never become involved with someone who is already in a relationship.” Jo took a long sip of her tea.

  “My second relationship was with a woman named Jessica. I met Jess through some friends. I thought she was exactly what the doctor ordered. She was perfect.” Jo’s eyes traveled over Stacy’s body. “Built much like you, she had a perky personality, made me laugh, and in bed we were amazing.”

  “She sounds perfect. Were you together a long time?”

  “Yes, I thought Jessie was pretty perfect myself for the first six months. Then she slept with Marlon. She told me that what we had was nice. Unfortunately, she wanted to have kids and the acceptance of her family and friends. Neither of which I could offer her. Hence rule number two—never, never, never get involved with a straight woman.”

  “Why? Because one woman dumped you? I can see and understand rule number one. This one doesn't make sense to me.” Stacy ran her fingers through her hair, a habit Jo had come to enjoy. “I mean, Jessie could just as easily have left you for anot
her woman, no?”

  “I suppose. It seemed she really struggled with accepting herself as a lesbian. She got a lot of criticism from her friends for being involved with me. It's just easier if all that's over with and someone has settled in and accepted that she'll never want to sleep with another man.”

  “Or woman for that matter.” Stacy sought Jo’s eyes. “Correct me if I'm wrong, Jo. I imagine there are some lesbians who have never slept with a man. Still, there have to be a number of them who started out their lives thinking they were heterosexual. What would someone have to do to prove to you that she's a lesbian? Would she have slept with only women for a set amount of time, or never have slept with a man before? No wonder you don't have a girlfriend, you're limiting an already limited pool of people to a small percentage of the base.”

  “Yes, that may be true. However, I feel that it's worked for me so far.” Jo stood, preparing to wash her cup.

  “Has it? Really?” Stacy stood and joined Jo at the sink. “Jo, I appreciate that you're so honest with me and talk to me like a friend. I'm going to do the same with you because in just this short amount of time we've shared together, I've grown to really like you a lot. You're a wonderful person. However, please allow me this observation. You resist too much. You resisted your friends’ efforts to help you when you refused a wheelchair. You resisted me when I wanted to do a massage for you. You resist being open to a whole subgroup of women who might have something to offer you because of an emotional insult you suffered in the past. You seem to want to consistently deny yourself what you need most. Why?”

  “For someone who hardly knows me, you've jumped to some amazing conclusions.”

  “Have I?” Then more quietly, “Have I really, Jo?”

  Jo was silent for a while, letting Stacy's words sink in. “Okay. I'll concede that I can be stubborn sometimes. But...”

  Stacy turned and wrapped Jo in her arms, hugging her close. At first, Jo just stood there. After a moment’s hesitation, she eventually accepted the embrace and offered her own in return.

  “Yes. There you are, stubborn but lovable.” Stacy gave Jo a squeeze before she released her from the hug and resumed her seat across from Jo at the counter.

  Chapter 11

  STACY AND JO FOLLOWED a similar pattern as their time together passed. Long talks during the day, massages at least morning and night, walks, and biking on the trainer daily. Jo's leg was feeling much better, and she had cut back substantially on her pain meds.

  “What's on your agenda for today, Stacy?” Jo asked as they shared breakfast.

  “I have a couple of hours of work to do. I’m tallying the results I've gotten back from a survey I'm taking. You can help if you have nothing better to do.”

  “I need to stop in across the street to find out about the class they want me to teach…you know, like how many people, what their levels are, what they want me to teach. Then I'll need to come up with some games and activities for my class.” Jo paused to take the last bite of her bagel. “I think I'll start with vocabulary building exercises and then work on some games so people can practice the words they've learned. I figure that’ll depend on the ability level of the people in the class and what needs they have. I've never taught before. I think I'm starting to be nervous.”

  “You'll do fine. I'll help any way I can,” Stacy promised.

  “Thanks.” Jo stood up. “Feel like a walk?”

  “You mean now? Sure. I think, if I have time after our walk this morning, I'd like to read some more of that book you gave me.”

  “Okay, how about this. First, we walk. I'll go see Nic while you read your book, then I'll come back and help you out with your survey.”

  “That works. When you go to the office, will you say hello to Nic for me? I’ve come to like her very much. She’s easy to talk to, and I feel that she always gives an open and honest answer or opinion in response to whatever she’s asked.”

  “I agree. She’s very easy to like.” Jo stood to rinse her dishes and put them in the dishwasher. She asked, “So, do you agree to my plan for the day?”

  “Sounds like a good plan,” Stacy said with a smile. “I'll run out and pick up some food for lunch and some other things we need. Why not invite Nic back with you for lunch?”

  Before Jo could respond, her cell rang. She took the call while Stacy finished stacking the remaining breakfast dishes in the dishwasher, and put the butter and jams into the fridge.

  “Hold on a minute, will you?” Jo covered the mouthpiece. “This is my friend Meg. You know, the one who got hurt the night I got shot? She wanted to know if we could get together for lunch. Would it be okay with you if I invited her over? I'd like to see her and thought you might enjoy meeting her.”

  “Sure, the more the merrier.”

  Jo finished up her call, and she and Stacy dressed to go out for their walk. They paused in front of the apartment. “Jo, you get started. I’ll get the chair and catch up to you.” Stacy ran across the street to get the companion chair while Jo started up the block. Although Stacy had no problem catching up with her, she noticed that Jo had already gone half a block and was not limping yet.

  They walked the same distance they had the day before, but Jo didn't need a massage when they sat on the bench. It was much colder than it had been the day before, so they didn't linger there any longer than it took Jo to gather her strength for the return trip. “Feeling up to making the return trip?” Jo asked, “Ready to go back?”

  “Sure, if you are. It’s too chilly to sit here too long today.”

  They stopped in front of the shop. Stacy touched Jo on the arm. “We need some things from the store. Want me to wait until you finish talking to Nic?”

  “No, I’ve had enough walking for now.” Jo grinned. “If you don’t mind going without me, I’ll meet with Nic, and when we’re finished, we’ll see you at home. We won’t be long.”

  “Okay. See you later.” Stacy smiled and gave Jo a quick wave as she headed off down the street bound for the store. Upon returning home, Stacy prepared lunch and read as she waited for her guests to show up.

  Nic and Jo arrived first. Nic greeted Stacy with a warm hug. “Thanks for inviting me over for lunch. It's nice to get a break in the middle of the day to be with friends.”

  It made Stacy happy that Nic considered her a friend. When the doorbell rang, Jo went to the top of the stairs to call down at Meg to come in.

  While Jo was waiting for Meg, Stacy asked Nic, “Did you and Jo finish up your discussion about the class?”

  “Yes. Jo has some good ideas already, and I think once she stops thinking it to death and gets involved in the teaching, she'll lose the nervousness. She'll be fine. She has an easy way with people.”

  Jo and Meg joined the other two in the living room. Jo introduced Meg to Stacy before they all migrated to the kitchen for lunch. They talked about a variety of topics including the weather, Meg's recent injury, and Jo's progress with her walks.

  With Jo's encouragement, Nic told the story of her first meeting with Mallory and Amanda.

  “Dana had sent them an email saying ‘Nic will be coming. Expect a tall, dark Italian. Please let Nic into my house and take care of things until I arrive a few days later.' Since Dana had never dated a woman before and it seems she’d never referred to me using a pronoun, always by name, they were expecting some tall, dark Italian man to show up but not for a few days yet. I got there ahead of schedule. The day I appeared at the door they were expecting a furniture delivery. I showed up, and they thought I was delivering the chair they’d ordered. So it was one of those ‘who's on first moments!’ It took them several minutes to finally figure out that I was the tall, dark Italian that Dana was dating. Mouths were certainly hanging open that day. When the guy who was actually delivering the chair arrived, we were all laughing hysterically. He thought we were all nuts and didn't hesitate to tell us so. I have to admit that for the first few minutes after I met them, I would have agreed with him.” Her lau
gher, a low-pitched melodic sound, blended with the others expressing enjoyment of her telling the story.

  The meal went well. Everyone took turns contributing to the conversation until they finished eating. With the meal concluded, Meg asked Jo if they could speak privately.

  “Jo, use the office,” Stacy offered. “I'll chat with Nic and finish up here.”

  ***

  Meg and Jo went down the hallway and into the office. “So how are you feeling?” Jo asked.

  “Much better now, thanks. You saved our lives I hear.”

  “Well, I'm sorry I didn't get him before he hurt you.”

  “How's the leg?”

  “It's doing okay. It’s better than it was for sure. Stacy massages it for me every day. She does a massage technique that she learned back when she was in high school helping a kid with CP. It's worked a miracle for me. When she does the massage before bedtime, I can actually sleep through the night and, after the morning massage, I'm reasonably comfortable during the day.”

  “So what's the story? She's your massage therapist? And why are you living here with her?”

  Jo chuckled. “No, she's an author.”

  “So, what’s the story? You're dating her?”

  Jo shook her head. “No, she's straight. It's a weird story. I can't believe I got hooked into doing it. Regardless, I'm actually having a good time with her.” Jo related what she was doing for Stacy. “So that's the story.”

  “You're right. I can't believe you're doing this.” Meg shifted in the chair, seeming ill at ease. “Jo, I have a question to ask you. You know I lost most of my memories for the week before the incident. I've been getting things back little by little. I don't remember much about the day it happened. I do remember most things, I guess, before that. Can you fill in the blanks? Like, why we were at the hospital?”