by Beth Burnett
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me?” I’m irritated. “Are you two in some lesbian pulp novel from the 70s? What is this shit? Jen, go sit down.”
I move to push her back to the table and the other woman shoves me out of the way. She takes a swing at Jen and gets her in the nose. Kelly screams. I’m pissed. No one pushes me. I swing low at the woman and catch her hard in the stomach. While she’s bending over to catch her breath, I knock her in the face with my elbow. She falls back and Jen is suddenly on her, throwing punches. I haul Jen up and throw her back to our table, where Lida pushes her down into a chair and refuses to let her up. I drag the other woman to her feet. I vaguely hear Steve yelling, “Cat fight!” in the background.
“Steady.” I place a hand on the other woman’s shoulder. Her nose is bleeding, and she’s going to have a hell of a black eye in the next couple of days, but she seems all right. She glares at me for several seconds, breathing hard. I know she’s debating whether or not to hit me.
“Look,” I say, carefully. “I don’t have a problem with you. Personally, I think Jen is a bitch. I just want you to end this. We’re done here.”
We look into each other’s eyes for a few moments. She finally shrugs and turns away. I watch her for a second to make sure she’s going to go.
“Fuck! No!” Jen yells suddenly. She pushes past Lida, who stumbles into the raffle girl. Raffle girl falls across our table, her breasts coming out of her bikini top. She lands half on the table, half on Steve’s lap.
I swing around hard and slam my fist into Jen’s face, knocking her back into her chair. She moans and puts her hands up to her nose.
“I said we’re done here.”
Kelly grabs some napkins and holds them up the Jen’s face. “You’re a brute, Andy.”
“A brute.” I slide back into my chair. “Your girlfriend is an insecure bitch who’s going to get her ass killed in a bar fight someday.”
“Fuck you,” Jen mumbles from underneath a napkin full of ice.
Davey grins at me. “My hero.”
Steve and Erik have helped raffle girl up to a sitting position. She’s perched on Steve’s knee, laughing with Kristina. Kristina pulls the strap of the bikini up and helps raffle girl get her breast back into the top. Raffle girl leans close to Kristina and whispers something in her ear. I inwardly shrug. I guess that’s not a consideration any more.
I put my arm around Davey again and lean back in the chair. Lida high fives me from across the table, and we smile at each other. I make a note to get their number before we leave. I want to hang out with them again.
Steve puts his arm around raffle girl. “Are you all right, sweetie pie?”
She smiles and kisses him on the cheek. “Thanks for saving me.”
“Well, it’s not every day that a beautiful woman falls across my lap.”
Erik deadpans, “At least not one with her tits hanging out.”
I squeeze Davey’s shoulder and look at the stage. Apparently our little drama wasn’t enough to disrupt the performers. I flex my fingers.
“Do you need some ice?” Emmy looks concerned.
“No, I’m fine.”
“That was a hell of a fight,” Lida says.
“I hate fighting. But I’m not going to be pushed around.”
Davey leans against me. “You were great. A total stud.”
I can feel my chest puffing up against my will. I kiss her softly on the temple. She leans her head against my face and for just a second, I am drawn back into the idea that we could be so right for each other—that we could do this forever. We fit. We’re perfect for each other. Davey gives me a quick kiss on the cheek and pulls away. The moment is gone. I blink myself out of the fantasy and order another drink.
Chapter Seven
After I took Davey home on Wednesday, I kind of skulked around in a funk for a couple of days. I played racquetball with Nate, went for a couple of runs, and spent a few hours in the bookstore, but my heart wasn’t in any of it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s not Davey. Yes, I love her. It’s probable that I am in love with her. But I’ve felt that way about her for so long that I can’t believe it would put me in a two-day funk.
I think what’s getting to me is that I’m getting older and my playboy lifestyle suddenly isn’t as fun as it used to be. Not that I don’t love having sex with gorgeous women. Not that I don’t love exploring new bodies. It’s just gotten to the point where I’m wondering where the meaning is in all of it. When I start searching for meaning, life is pretty fucked up.
It’s Friday night and I’m getting ready for my date with Heather. I decide to go all out and do up the GQ look. Trousers, white shirt, tie, vest. I skip my usual big leather boots in favor of some expensive loafers. I don’t know why I’m dressing to impress, but suddenly, I want to look really hot. I glance at my watch. I’m early. I pick up my cell and perch on a stool.
“Leah.”
“Andy, darling, how are you?”
“I’m fine, how are you?”
“Lovely, darling. Just on my way to my sex class.”
“Is it weird taking a sex class with Dr. Ward now that you’re boffing her?”
“Oh, Andy, please. It just makes the class that much more fun.”
I’m doubtful. “I guess.”
“We only have a couple more classes. Want to come?”
“Can’t. I have a date tonight. Just wanted to see how you’re doing.”
“I’m doing well. I think I might be getting better at oral sex.”
I manage to keep my voice completely even. “That’s great.”
“I haven’t tried on the strap-on yet.”
“Maybe you should order one online and try in on in the comfort of your own…er, Davey’s own home.”
“That’s a good idea.”
I make a mental note to warn Davey next time I talk to her.
She continues, “I think you were right about being butch. I put on some trousers the other day and practiced being masculine, but it just didn’t feel right.”
“Well, trousers aren’t the point.”
“I packed a sock in my drawers.”
I clear my throat, debating about whether to get involved in this conversation.
“Anyway, Leah, I want to have a dinner gathering on Sunday night. You want to come?”
“I would love it.”
“You are, of course, welcome to bring Sheila.”
“I’ll see if she has anything going on. Do you want me to bring anything?”
“How about a salad?”
“For how many.”
I start calculating. This is a last minute idea and I’m not sure who all to invite. Heather. Steve and Erik maybe. Renee. Davey and Danny. Leah. I think about inviting Lynne and Sarah. If Lynne is still living with Davey, it might be awkward to not invite her. I guess I had better.
“Leah, plan for ten. It might be less, but we can always share leftovers.”
“I’ll do it. See you Sunday.”
“Thank you. I love you, Leah.”
“You too, sweetheart.”
I dial again. “Davey.”
“Andy. How are you feeling?”
“Great. How are you?”
“I had a great time Wednesday.”
“It was nothing if not interesting.”
“As usual.”
“I’m having a dinner party Sunday evening. Do you and Danny want to come?”
“We’d love to be there. What can we bring?”
“Dessert for ten.”
“Done.”
“See you Sunday.”
“Love you, Andy.”
“Love you too, baby girl.”
I hang up with her and give myself a last check in the mirror. I wink at myself and head over to Heather’s place. On the way over, I find a compilation CD and throw it in the player. I’m going to take her to a little fondue place in Lakewood. It’s cozy enough for cuddling and not too loud to talk. After, we can head out f
or drinks and music if she wants or back to my place for drinks and sex. I’ll let her make the decision.
I make it to her place and knock on the door. She opens it with a smile. I smile back, delighted. She is wearing some kind of shiny, bluish dress that fits perfectly over her slender body and looks amazing with her hair. Her heels are high enough that I could kiss her right now without straining my neck. I reach out and touch one of her hips.
“You look beautiful.”
“And you look gorgeous. I love the tie. And of course it’s blue.”
“If I had called you to find out what to wear, we couldn’t have matched better.”
She smiles. “I took a chance that you would consider our date important enough to dress up.”
I feign hurt. “You mean you’re not a fan of jeans and muscle shirts?”
She runs a hand over one of my biceps. I flex automatically and she laughs. “I am a fan of your standard outfit. But I really love the sexy menswear look.”
“I should have known you were a sucker for a tie.”
She leans against me and presses her mouth against my ear. “Wait till you see what I want you to do with that tie later.”
I growl and press her back against the wall. “We could skip dinner.”
She pushes me away, laughing. “Absolutely not.”
I lead her to my Trailblazer and see her in. I can’t keep my eyes off of her dress. It isn’t tight. It just slithers around her body in all the right places, and I can’t stop thinking about running my hands over the fabric and pulling the whole thing over her head.
She smiles as we drive to the restaurant. “Keep your eyes on the road, stud.”
“I’m in perfect control of this vehicle.”
She touches my hand. “You do look incredibly sexy in that outfit. Thanks for dressing for our date.”
“Some dates seem to call for a little more care in the wardrobe department.
“I agree,” she says, grinning slyly.
“After all, you wore a dress.”
“I wanted to look good.”
“It worked.”
I reach over and rest my hand on her leg as we drive to the restaurant. She looks amazing. I can’t remember the last time I was this attracted to someone. Of course, there is something incredible about dressing up and taking out a beautiful woman that makes me feel so tough. I pull smoothly into a parking place and walk around to open the car door for her. She stands up and presses her lips against my neck, letting her mouth open just enough that I can feel the tip of her tongue. I grab both of her hips and pull her against me.
“You’re asking to be sent to bed without dinner,” I whisper.
She grins up at me. “No way. You promised me a real date.”
I take her arm as we walk into the restaurant. The hostess sees us to a table. I can feel her giving me the eye, but it is obviously out of confusion, not flirtation. I wink at Heather. As we sit, she smiles at me.
“Do you think people know we’re on a date?”
“Does that bother you?”
“No. I just wonder if people are staring at us.”
“If they’re staring at us, it’s because you look amazing in that dress.”
She shakes her head. “Does it ever bother you to be stared at?”
“Not in the least.” I lean back, pausing to clear my head. “Look, I’ve been different since I was a kid. I’m big and tough and I’ve always looked kind of masculine.”
“You don’t look masculine. You look like a sexy, strong, butch woman.”
“You might be biased because you’re a lesbian.”
“And because you’re hot in the sack.”
“There is that.”
She’s not giving in that easily. “So, you were different?”
“I may not have known the term butch when I was a teenager, but I knew I was not a regular girl, whatever the hell that means. I read ‘Stone Butch Blues’ when I was older, but that didn’t seem to apply to me. I was just a tough woman who loved women. And I knew I didn’t want to try to dress in some societally accepted definition of feminine.”
“So you got used to people looking at you.”
“It was pretty common. I either had people telling me that I would be so beautiful if I just wore makeup and cut my hair differently or I had people telling me that I looked like a man.”
“It definitely isn’t easy to be butch in this world.”
“We’re automatically outed, without having to say it.”
“But at least other women know that you’re a lesbian.”
“True.”
“I don’t even look like a lesbian. I have no cred with the lesbian community on my own. I have to be with a butch or people assume that I am straight.”
“You worry too much about what people think. There’s no such thing as looking like a lesbian or not looking like a lesbian. You are what a lesbian looks like.”
She nods. “I just get upset when certain women act like I don’t belong in the community.”
“Certain women think I don’t belong there, either.”
“Yeah, but that’s because you fucked them and left them.”
“Ah. I never left anyone without a clear understanding of why.”
“So what is our understanding?”
“We don’t have one yet. It’s far too early to have an understanding.”
“So we are casual lovers?”
“We’re friends who have had sex.”
She raises an eyebrow. “And who are going to have sex tonight?”
“I hope so. But we don’t have to. Whatever you want to do is fine with me.”
The waiter finally comes to take our drink order. I decide to have a beer. Heather orders a chocolate martini.
I lean back against the booth as the drinks arrive. I’m busy looking at Heather so I don’t see Davey and Danny approach our table. Danny smiles and holds out his hand. I stand up and give him a hug, then lean over to hug Davey.
“Danny, Davey. This is Heather.”
Davey says hello to her, while Danny shakes her hand and smiles warmly.
“What are you two doing here?”
Danny shrugs and puts his arm around Davey. “It’s such a great little restaurant. I thought it would be a nice date.”
Heather nods. “It is. We’ve just gotten our drinks, but we haven’t ordered food yet. Would you like to join us?”
“Heather, I’m sure they don’t want to share their romantic date with us.”
Davey glances at Heather, then back at me. “Actually, it sounds like a great idea.”
Danny nods. “It’s fine with me.”
I move over to Heather’s side of the table, bringing my drink. Danny and Davey both sit on the other side. I rest my arm lightly around Heather’s shoulders. Davey tracks the movement with her eyes, catches my eye and smiles.
The waiter comes back to take their drink orders, and Davey starts chatting with Heather. I turn to Danny.
“Hey.”
“Andy, how are you?”
“Doing great. As always. You?”
He smiles at me. He has a beautiful smile. I want to hate him, but I really can’t. I mean, I like this guy. “I’m well. Did you hear that Leah and Dr. Ward are kind of an item now?”
I’m watching a drunk man weaving around his table, apparently headed for the bathroom.
“Let me tell you. She took me out to lunch and asked me about strap-ons.”
Heather laughs. “Sorry, who are we talking about?”
Davey grins. “My mother. She’s having an affair with a power femme and thinks she needs to learn how to use a strap-on.”
I have to interject. “Dr. Ward is not a power femme.”
The drunk guy trips over a chair, but catches himself. I try to catch Davey’s eye, but she’s caught up in her assessment.
“I don’t know what else you would call her,” Davey counters. “She’s artfully made up, her hair is always done, and she wears mini-skirts
and high heels. She’s a power femme.”
“Whatever she looks like on the outside, she’s the one in charge in that relationship.”
Heather shakes her head. “Why does anyone have to be in charge?”
Danny agrees. “Why does she have to be labeled? It’s their relationship; let them figure it out.”
The man sways on his feet, moving closer to our table. I’m trying to pay attention to the conversation and keep an eye on the dude at the same time. He’s a few feet away from Danny’s chair.
“It isn’t a real relationship,” Davey says, shaking her head. “They’re friends with benefits.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” I interject. “It’s good for your mom. She needed to have an affair with a woman. Every feminist should.”
Heather snorts. “Seriously? So, what? A woman can’t be a feminist if she hasn’t at least tried to have sex with another woman?”
“Sex between women is the ultimate feminist act. It is the ultimate in exclusionary behavior. Yes, I think all feminist should have sex with a woman.”
Davey shakes her head. “By that reasoning, if you want to understand men, you need to have sex with a man.”
“I don’t want to understand men.”
The drunkard almost knocks over the tray of drinks the waiter is carrying to our table. The waiter deftly avoids him and passes out the drinks. Danny waits until he is gone before continuing the conversation.
“Not all men are bad, you know.”
“You’re different,” I counter.
There is silence at the table. Danny nods. “Technically, yes, I am.”
Shit. I didn’t mean to upset him. “Danny, I don’t mean that. Yes, you are a real man. But you grew up with female oppression.”
“I grew up with oppression in general. In my case, it was being forced to dress like and look like a girl when I really wasn’t.”
“I was forced to dress like a girl when I was really a butch.”
“That’s different.”
The drunk guy has reached our table. He stumbles against Danny’s chair then half falls on our table. Danny stands and puts a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Sir, can I help you back to your seat?”
“No, I’m fine,” he mutters, pushing away from Danny. He manages to take about ten steps, then falls face-first on the floor. Davey looks down at the table, trying not to laugh. I catch Danny’s eye.