by Roxy Harte
“Yes. Do you want me to meet you at O’Leary’s?”
“I was thinking someplace a little quieter, off our beaten path, if that’s okay with you?”
When she suggested Maconochie’s, a pub outside of town that I’d never heard of before, I still saw O’Leary’s in my head, but as I arrive in Maconochie’s parking lot, I realize that they are as far removed from each other as night and day. I tilt my head when I arrive, because I’m not one-hundred-percent certain that I’m at the right place. The signage says that I am, but the building looks more like a hunter’s lodge than a pub. Actually, it is a log cabin, granted a very large cabin, two stories, stone halfway up the façade, rough-hewn wood on top, and an age about it, like it has stood in the same spot for over a hundred years, maybe two hundred. The parking lot is almost deserted, surprising for a Saturday night but then it is fairly off the beaten track. One thing is certain. It is her Jeep I pull up beside when I park.
Climbing from my car, I see her, standing on the wide porch. Deep shadows had kept her hidden until she stepped forward and I can’t help smiling when she lifts her hand.
I lift mine and crunch over the gravel parking area in my three-inch heels, hoping not to twist an ankle. I feel overdressed. The flowery sundress and strappy sandals suddenly seem too date-ish. Of course, she’s wearing jeans. But, as I step closer, she looks perfect. She’s wearing a Ralph Lauren black polo—an easy tell from the bright red embroidered number two on the right chest and dueling ponies on the left— and black leather shoes, both of which scream of newness. She dressed up too. The thought makes me smile. Maybe it is a real date then. I wish I knew.
“You look amazing,” she says as I climb the three wooden steps up to the porch. I smile. She looks amazing too. She’s naturally taller than me, but with my heels, we are the same height. She is lithe, lean, and powerfully confident. She is, without a doubt, a beautiful woman, although she exudes a certain sense of masculinity. Her amber eyes light up when I tell her, “You look very nice yourself.” As I draw closer, her scent surrounds me. “Mm-m. You smell nice, too.”
She ducks her head, blushing. “Thanks. It’s Safari.”
She opens her arms for a hug and I don’t hesitate. “Wow. Safari doesn’t smell that wonderful on me.” “It’s Safari for Men,” she admits, squeezing me before letting me go.
“Well, I think it’s outstanding! You should wear it all the time.” I laugh. “I had no idea you were such a Ralph Lauren girl.”
She rolls her eyes. “I have my designer moments.”
I bump shoulders with her. “Designer moments look very good on you.”
We stand on the porch looking at each other and I start to feel self-conscious, thinking maybe I should have worn my hair in a ponytail instead of down. I shouldn’t have worn makeup. And the dress? Way over the top. Clearly, I have no idea what I’m doing.
Awkwardly and belatedly, she pulls me by the hand to the front door. “I’m glad you agreed to dinner.
I love to come up here, but it seems I need a special occasion for an excuse.”
“Well, thank you for inviting me.”
She opens the door for me and ushers me inside. A hostess stands ready to direct us to our table, which is on the back side of the cabin. A huge window bank overlooks the forest and, as I take my seat, I realize that we are perched on the side of the mountain, overlooking a deep gorge. A narrow waterfall is visible on the far side. “Wow. Now that’s beautiful.” I look up to see that Geri is smiling.
“What?” I ask as she sits down across from me.
“I’m glad you like it. That’s all. I’m always just a little more comfortable when I’m surrounded by nature, and I wanted to bring you someplace where I knew I could be relaxed.”
“With that view, it’s going to be hard to stay uptight.”
She laughs. “You? Uptight?”
I laugh nervously. It’s my turn to blush, realizing just how tensely I’m holding my shoulders. It seems absurd that I’m so nervous. We’re just two friends having dinner. Dinner that is feeling more and more like a date.
It’s the ambiance of the room I decide. Very romantic.
It dawns on me that the entire room is lit only by the candlelight coming from the center of the table or by the lanterns hanging on the wall. “God, it’s beautiful here. Rustic elegance?”
She laughs. “Something like that. I’ve always imagined the kitchen as having authentic wood stoves.” “You think?” She shrugs.
“Huh,” I say, at a loss about what I should say, not wanting to talk about what happened before, having no expectations about what could happen from here...
Geri orders first and I am surprised that she orders their vegetarian special for both of us. Geri isn’t vegan, she isn’t even close to vegetarian, so I think it is sweet that she deferred to what she believed I would like on the menu. The special is a mushroom fricassee over a crisp puff pastry that turns out to be amazing and I don’t think anyone would see it as a sacrifice.
Geri is talking about her last business trip and what an adventure she had. She asks a question, but I miss what she says because I’m so worried about whether this is or isn’t a date...
I catch her gaze and realize that she has asked me a question, and I have no idea what she asked. Oh hell. “Excuse me?”
“I said, maybe you could go with me sometime.”
Before I can answer, she teases with a wink. “Or are you too girlie to camp?”
Either the breathtaking view or the way Geri’s face glows in the candlelight as she talks about her job and how much she appreciates that she can be outdoors so much of her day makes me boast, “Oh, I can camp.” Then I immediately regret it, because I haven’t camped since I was a fourth-grade girl scout.
“Then I’ll look forward to it. Sharing a sleeping bag with you would be very enjoyable.”
My thoughts freeze at her flirtatious comment. She’s flirting? Further proof that this is a date. No, she’s testing the waters—and quite boldly—to see if I’m interested. I find myself aching to do more than flirt. Why does this have to seem so hard?
Our gazes catch for the hundredth time in an hour and it seems like I should have something witty or charming to say, but I can’t even seem to make a single flirtatious comeback. A strange silence falls over the table and I feel like our almost date is in peril of reverting to a dinner between friends. Thankfully, the waitress arrives with our coffee and dessert. It is a yogurt parfait, layered with raspberries, blueberries, crunchy granola clusters, sunflowers, and honey. As decadent as it is simple—as was the entire meal—I can see why Geri feels this is a special occasion place. I want to come all the time now that I know it is here.
I notice that we are the last diners remaining and, when I look at my watch, I can’t believe the time. We’ve been talking and dining for three hours. She takes the hint. “It’s getting late.” “Yes, we should probably go before they throw us out.” I laugh.
She takes my hand across the table. “I am so sorry about the way things went at your house. I’m an idiot.”
I shake my head, now wishing that I hadn’t been so skittish then. If I’d have just let things progress, instead of freaking out. “We don’t have to talk about it. Just forget it.”
“I can’t forget it. I was an ass. I’d like another chance.”
I tilt my head. “Another chance?”
She leans forward and whispers, “To make love to you.” My mouth drops open, but no words come out.
“I reserved us a room.” Her hand closes over mine. “But if you say no, that’s totally okay too. No pressure.”
No pressure? “You reserved us a room here?” I manage to squeak.
I start shaking and I hope she doesn’t notice. I want her, desperately, but the fear that made me stall before is still there. I don’t want to ruin our friendship. And honestly, I don’t have a clue about how to even go about making love to a woman. What am I thinking?
“We should go,�
� she says. “I didn’t mean to rush you. I can be so rude and inconsiderate sometimes. I didn’t mean to imply...” She pauses, embarrassed, and I think of how pissed off I’d have been if any of the men I ever dated pulled anything as presumptuous. Not that I’m above having a little first-date sex, just don’t presume I’m easy, which I am fairly certain is the word she’s trying to not use, which is so incredibly ludicrous on so many levels, considering my occupation. She settles on, “...anything.”
“I want you to rush me.” Her eyes twinkle with renewed hope and she smiles as I admit, “I am so turned on right now just knowing that you planned everything tonight for us to be alone together. Please just take me upstairs before I lose my nerve.”
Chapter Seven
♥
We’re really going to do this. Looking at her, a king-size bed between us, I still don’t have a clue, but I’m happy I’m here, I’m happy she’s here...and I’m really, really happy she’s done this before. My doubts are gone. It is probably insane, but I don’t want to think about whether our friendship will survive, or if I am here for the right reason, or if she is here for the right reason. All I know is that I want her to kiss me again.
Together, we turn back the bedding. Our eyes lock over the exposed sheets and I hold my breath, waiting for the panic to fill me. It doesn’t. I love the way she looks at me, her hunger laid wide open for me to see. I’ve glimpsed it before at O’Leary’s, seemingly many times over the years, but I’ve always shuffled the thought to the back of my brain to the place where all things that make me uncomfortable get buried. Tonight, her gaze doesn’t make me uncomfortable, it makes me want her. “I’m terrified,” I admit.
She laughs, walking around the bed to stand beside me. She rubs my shoulders. “Just relax. I’m the experienced one here. Remember?”
She kisses me gently and I tremble against her. She pulls back from the kiss. “Don’t be afraid of me.” I press my lips back into hers, answering only after I kiss her. “It’s not you I’m afraid of.”
Her hands roam over my back, finding my zipper. “This is the moment I help you take your clothes off.”
“Uh-huh.”
She unzips and, as an afterthought, unties the halter at my neck. The dress slides between us, exposing one slow inch at a time until it is pooled around my ankles. I step free and kick off my heels, leaving me suddenly several inches shorter than her. She smiles, and as her eyes look down at me, taking in all of me, her eyes widen appreciatively.
I’m wearing a lace bra and panty set, the bra a halter-cut. Normally, in a halter dress, I wouldn’t bother, but I dressed for this evening intentionally...hoping...really hoping that one of us would maneuver us to this point. I dressed knowing I wanted her to see me wearing pretty, lacy underthings. I catch my reflection and admire how the lace panties mold around my ass and how the shades of bright orange lace and fuchsia ribbon contrast perfectly against my freshly tanned skin. I catch her looking appreciatively too. “You are just too damn sexy, it’s no wonder men around the globe are jacking off to your videos.” I freeze, but then I see the twinkle in her eye. She’s teasing. How totally unexpected.
“Smart-ass,” I grumble, but then I’m smiling because I feel good, content, and that isn’t something I’ve ever been able to say about being in a bedroom with someone, knowing that sex was imminent.
Smiling, I banter back, “Don’t forget women too—lots of women buy my videos.”
“Oh, I have no doubt.” She bites my shoulder, just a nip, but I squeal anyway, then I’m rubbing my face into her neck, nibbling her, kissing her. I untuck her shirt, pulling at the fabric. I want her out of her clothes. I want to be naked beside her.
“Uh-uh, not yet,” she says. She sits on the mattress and pulls me down onto her lap. I sit stiffly until she pulls me against her. “You have to relax, beautiful, or this is never going to work.”
I close my eyes and let out the breath I was holding, slowly my muscles give and I lean back against her. She kisses the back of my shoulder. “Isn’t that better?”
I nod, keeping my eyes closed, trying to not think too hard on the fact that I have never had sex with a woman, or that I have no idea how to have sex with a woman. How different can it be? Oh God. Her touch jars my thoughts, making it impossible to think...or worry.
Wordlessly, she skims her fingertips over the top of my thighs then gently pushes my knees apart. As her fingers massage the soft skin on the insides of my thighs, she teases me to aching need with an expertise that puts most of the co-stars I’ve had to shame.
“God, I want you,” I tell her, arching my back and pushing my hips into her pelvis.
“You’re going to have to do better than that, sweetheart. Tell me you want me to make love to you.” “Yes,” I hiss, craning my neck to offer her my lips.
She pulls back, teasing, “Ask me.”
“Are you this obstinate with all your lovers?” I demand, opening my eyes and meeting her gaze. I get lost in the need I see trapped in the golden amber of her irises.
“I like to be in control.”
“You like to make your women beg,” I accuse, feeling my eyebrows crease in frustration. I do not want this to start feeling like a role, or rather, I don’t want to start acting like I’m in a role.
“Sometimes.” She smiles and it is devastatingly wicked. “Under the right circumstances.”
I sit forward and her movement follows mine so that we stay molded together. Sexual tension stronger than anything I have ever felt sizzles between us as she puts her hand on my shoulder, turning my body to face her. I lift my hand to her face, and cradle her cheek in my palm. That felt like a role. Damn it! I let out a long exhalation. Looking deeply into her eyes, I ask, “Will you make love to me?” Still a role, except my body is trembling.
Her gaze is piercing. She asks softly, “Why?”
I tremble harder. What is wrong with me? “I’m terrified,” I admit. “I’ve never felt this way...with anyone.”
She lifts her eyebrow. I spill my guts. “I dated before Simon and even though I wasn’t a virgin, the back of a Chevy with an adolescent boy doesn’t compare to what I feel right now. And with Simon...” I shrug. “Sex was sex. Amazing. Physical.”
“You aren’t convincing me that we should be doing this,” she says, not pushing me away, but not holding me close anymore.
I snuggle into her, inhaling her scent. I kiss her collarbone and then trail kisses up her neck to the spot behind her ear...and sniff...losing myself in her scent and the heady need that fills my being. Not just my body, but my mind...my soul. “You make me want something I’ve never wanted from anyone. I don’t even know how to explain it. But you soothe me. You soothe my soul. Maybe it’s because you’re a girl and I’m changing teams, or maybe I was never a member of the straight team to begin with and I was just too stupid to realize it, but I do know one thing most certainly. I want you to make love to me, and not because you are a lesbian, but because it’s you. I want you to make love to me, Geri.”
Her mouth closes over mine, kissing me hard and deep. We are both panting when she pulls away. “I’ve waited a long time to hear you ask me that.”
Her hand slides behind me to unsnap my bra and, with some very smooth maneuvering, she pulls the fabric free. My breasts spill forward and she catches my right breast, holding it, seeming to weight it in her palm before twirling the nipple between her thumb and finger. She pinches harder than I expected, drawing a soft moan to my lips. “Do you like that?”
“Yes.” I arch back against her. She palms both of my breasts, squeezing them simultaneously then, finding both nipples, pinches them, pulling them to hard peaks of need. My pussy clenches and I know she feels me fidget on her lap when she chuckles, obviously delighted. She pulls them harder, stretching them out. “Oh God!” I grab her hands, not to stop them, because she isn’t hurting me, but to feel her hands beneath mine, driving my flesh crazy.
“Take off your clothes,” I say.
&nb
sp; “Uh-uh. I’m making love to you. My clothes stay on.”
My lips part to complain but she grabs my chin and pulls my face around to meet hers. Her mouth closes over mine, stopping anything I would have said and, strangely, my body responds to her refusal to take off her clothes, enjoying the way her jeans and polo feel stiff and new against my skin. Just the fact that she is dressed and plans to stay that way makes me hotter, needier. She eases back against the bed, and drags me with her. It is a strange, highly erotic sensation, lying on top of her body so that my back is against her front. Her hands roam over my breasts, over my stomach. She teases my ribcage with her fingertips and I cry out with need.
“Geri?” I twist my neck to try to see her face. She silences me with another kiss and I moan into the hot, damp cave of her mouth.
Anxious, I try to wriggle my fingertips under the elastic band of my panties, but her legs scissor around mine, trapping my legs as she catches my wrists. She pulls my hands above my head and holds them there. “Impatient much?”
“I’ve never seen much point in foreplay.”
“I think, after today, you’ll have a new appreciation.” She threatens ominously. “Now, leave your hands above your head no matter what.”
I start to argue, but she stops me with a look. I lie still, waiting for her to do whatever it is that she is going to do so that we can get this show on the road. My mouth smirks and I try to hide the fact that I am finding humor in the dominant role she is assuming. I squirm beneath the tight cage of her legs, my pussy tightening. I push my ass into her and arch my back.
“You really can’t stand it, can you?”
I laugh outright before asking, “What?” Like I really don’t know what she’s talking about. “Relaxing, enjoying, and accepting the pleasure that comes with slowing down.” I look at her with a blank expression that makes her laugh.