Defective

by Maria Jackson

  Whitney was amused that Yolanda was so worried. Out of everything she could’ve been worried about at that point, she chose the alcohol?

  For someone who had been so insistent on being straight, she seemed pretty laid-back at the moment. Of course, they weren’t talking about the actual issue at hand.

  Whitney wiped down the counter, glancing at Yolanda every few seconds as she looked at the different bottles. She seemed amused by all the different types. She pulled out one translucent, dark green bottle. “No way.”

  “What, the absinthe?”

  “I’ve only heard about this in songs,” Yolanda said, holding the bottle up to the light.

  “We have it.”

  “I can see that. I didn’t even think it was legal, actually. Doesn’t it make people go crazy?”

  “That’s what they say,” Whitney said, taking the bottle from Yolanda’s hands. “Apparently this is what made Van Gogh cut off his ear.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Of course. But then, there’s plenty of legal things that make people go crazy.” Like your face, Whitney wanted to add. Like how I want to knot my fingers through all that silky hair. She could see herself cutting off a body part for someone like Yolanda.

  “Crazy,” Yolanda murmured, grabbing the cloth that Whitney had left on the counter.

  As she started to work, Whitney glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. “You want some?”

  “Some absinthe? I never thought I would be asking that.”

  “People do all kinds of things they never thought they would do,” Whitney said sagely. “When are you going to have this chance again? Try some.”

  Yolanda looked at her, and Whitney’s cheeks heated as their eyes met. She wasn’t usually so forward. She didn’t push anyone to do anything they didn’t want to do. Somehow, Yolanda made her want to be daring. She could play the part of a woman who knew everything and had tried everything. Next to Yolanda with her almost-innocence, maybe Whitney really was that woman.

  “I guess it couldn’t hurt to try a sip,” Yolanda said.

  “If I’m going to wash the glass, you better have more than a sip.”

  Whitney pulled out two small liquor glasses. Out of habit, she spun them around before setting each down on the counter. “Two absinthes, coming right up.”

  “I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” Yolanda said as Whitney poured.

  “I would never make anyone do anything,” Whitney pointed out. “If you don’t want the drink, tell me now.”

  “All right, that was unfair of me,” Yolanda said. “I know you wouldn’t make me do something I don’t want to do.”

  Whitney nodded, handing her the tiny glass. Yolanda took it, and immediately began to cough.

  “What’s wrong?” Whitney asked.

  “That shit’s strong,” Yolanda exclaimed, still coughing. “It tastes like licorice, but like the licorice has been mixed with rubbing alcohol.”

  “It’s eighty-five percent alcohol,” Whitney pointed out. “That’s how it gets people fucked up.”

  Yolanda glanced at her, more amusement than offense in her eyes. “So you’re trying to get me fucked up?”

  “Only if you want to be.”

  She desperately wanted to fuck Yolanda up, but not with alcohol. Holding up her own glass, she inspected the clear green liquid. It did have a certain romantic appeal compared to other alcohols. This was the stuff of myths and legends—what Hemingway drank in Paris. The Green Fairy was said to make grown men hallucinate.

  Before drinking it, Whitney held it to her nose. It did have a strong anise scent, but she knew by now that the taste was much harder to handle than the smell. “It’s easier to drink on the rocks,” she said.

  “Give me some ice, then!”

  Whitney reached for the ice bucket and dropped a few cubes in each glass. She swiveled hers around, watching the ice melt into the liquid. It diluted nicely, changing the color the tiniest bit. “Sometimes, things that are hard can be easier when you make a little change,” she said quietly. “Sometimes you just have to change your attitude.”

  Yolanda nodded, sipping from her glass. “This is better. Thanks for letting me try it.”

  “No problem.”

  Ron came out from his office, tossing the keys onto the bar as he passed. “Close up when you go, would you?”

  The place was quiet. Maybe now was when Whitney should have brought up what they had done earlier, but her nerves wouldn’t let her do it. She was still intimidated by Yolanda’s presence. Besides, she had no idea what she actually wanted.

  If things had been the tiniest bit different, she would have angled to make this woman her girlfriend. But the way things stood, Yolanda would be disgusted, if not disturbed, by her body.

  “I guess you’re heading home now?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I think I’m going to go home,” Yolanda said. “Probably should, anyway.” She looked at Whitney, who imagined having Yolanda come over. If her leg was normal, they could have gone home together. She could flirt and have some more drinks, and then have sex until the break of dawn.

  But she couldn’t even take off her pants in front of Yolanda, never mind her prosthetic.

  “Okay,” Whitney said. “Maybe you can come over before work tomorrow, if you’re not busy. I have some errands and things to do, but after that…”

  “That’s fine,” Yolanda said. “I can run errands with you.”

  Whitney took Yolanda home, then hesitated in front of her door. Should she kiss her or not? As she looked over at her, Yolanda made the decision for her. She leaned over and planted her lips on Whitney’s, making Whitney’s head spin. Whitney could hardly believe that Yolanda was so confident. She had been so against this, and now she had changed completely.

  “See you tomorrow,” Yolanda murmured.

  The drive home was only a few minutes. Whitney yawned as she took the elevator up to her apartment. Valentine jumped up her leg as soon as she opened the door, but Whitney couldn’t even deal with her excitement. She would normally have been sleeping at this hour.

  Despite the dog’s presence, the apartment felt somewhat lonely as Whitney closed the door behind her. Valentine was amazing, but she wasn’t human. She couldn’t have a conversation with her, and definitely couldn’t touch her in the way she wanted to touch a certain DJ.

  Whitney went into her bedroom and took off everything, including the prosthetic. The blister was bothering her again. She still couldn’t stomach the thought of letting the prosthetist not only look at her but poke and prod her as well. She grabbed her crutches and made her way heavily back into the other room, where she poured out some food for Valentine. By the time she got back, there was a new text on her phone.

  Earlier tonight was amazing, Yolanda had written. Just wanted to say that again, in case you forgot.

  Whitney had to smile. I could never forget. That may not have been my first time doing that, but it was pretty incredible for me too.

  Yolanda: Good. Glad I’m not the only one. I wanted to invite you in just now, but there are three other people in the house. I don’t know if I’m ready to explain it to them.

  Whitney: Take this at your own pace. I’m not going to rush anything.

  Yolanda: That’s good to know. Good night, Whitney.

  Whitney smiled down at her phone. It had been a long time since she’d received a good night text from someone she was interested in. She wrote one last message back.

  Good night, Yolanda.

  Nineteen

  “That dog eats a ton of food,” Yolanda said, heaving the twenty-pound bag into the back seat of Whitney’s car.

  Whitney laughed, the sound putting a smile on Yolanda’s face. “She’s small, but she’s got a big appetite. You didn’t have to tag along for my chores with me, you know. I usually do this alone.”

  “It’s not a problem. I wasn’t doing anything, and it’s nice to see what you look like in the daylight.”

 
“You like looking at me?” Whitney murmured, opening the car door.

  Yolanda’s heart raced. She was getting used to this whole flirting-with-a-girl thing, but it still made her nervous. It was easy enough when it was only them, but what if someone overheard? Then they would know that she was into this woman. They might even figure out that they were fooling around with each other. A few days had passed since their first time together, and they had repeated the experience more than once.

  “I do,” she finally said, almost whispering even though she was already getting into the car. “You look good at night and during the day.”

  “I’m told the sunshine brings out the highlights in my hair,” Whitney said, fluffing up her blonde locks playfully.

  Whitney might have been joking, but the sunshine actually did some good things to her. Yolanda could see her clearly, which made it easier to stare at the thoughtful contours of her face. She licked her lips, thinking about how much she wanted to touch Whitney’s hard body.

  “Seriously, it does bring out something in yours,” Whitney said, leaning over to pull a few strands out from Yolanda’s ponytail. She ran her forefinger and thumb down its length.

  “My hair is just black,” Yolanda pointed out.

  “That may be, but it does something when it’s bright out. It’s, like, gleaming. How do you get it so shiny?”

  Yolanda had to laugh, shaking her head as Whitney continued to marvel. “Conditioner. Probably genes, too.”

  “How long’s it been since you cut it?”

  “I don’t know. Must be nine or ten years. Why, you think it’s too long?”

  Whitney continued to play with her hair for another second, staring at it intensely before putting the car into gear. “Not at all. You’d look good however you wanted to wear it.”

  “I think about cutting it sometimes. It can be a real pain in the ass.” It was always in the way, plus the amount of shampoo and conditioner it took to maintain such long hair got expensive.

  Whitney pulled onto the street. “Why not do it?”

  “I don’t know. Inertia, I guess. I’d have to pick a style, find a hairdresser… it’s easier to let it keep growing.” Yolanda paused, flipping the ponytail over her shoulder. “So, what’s our next stop? We still have a couple hours before work.”

  “I figured we’d get some dinner,” Whitney said, her eyes on the road. “Maybe go to a restaurant.”

  “Oh, you’re not going to cook for me again?”

  Yolanda blinked as soon as she finished speaking, realizing what she was implying. She had only meant to sound mildly flirtatious, but she had practically propositioned Whitney.

  Now Whitney glanced over at her, and the twinkle in her eye let Yolanda knew she had picked up on that implication. “You’re welcome to come over if you like. I have plenty of food that I could cook.”

  “What would you make me?” Yolanda asked, her voice dropping slightly.

  “I could make you lots of things,” Whitney said.

  Yolanda swallowed, feeling the effect Whitney’s words had between her legs. She was getting aroused already, and they weren’t even close to doing anything. Her body remembered what Whitney had done to it yesterday, and it wanted more.

  “Let’s go,” she murmured.

  While Yolanda would have broken every speed limit to get to Whitney’s place, Whitney drove as if they were out for a pleasant spin. In fact, she seemed to be going even slower than she needed to. Was she trying to drive Yolanda crazy?

  When they got back to Whitney’s place, Whitney did make dinner… but not before shattering Yolanda’s world and putting it back together again. Yolanda lay on the bed, panting, as Whitney got up and went into the kitchen as if what she’d just done was nothing. Pots and pans clattered as Yolanda struggled to catch her breath.

  After a moment, she was strong enough to get her clothes back on and headed into the kitchen. Her eyes greedily took in the ripped jeans and white T-shirt so well fitted to Whitney’s form. Whitney made her want to do all sorts of things she had never before dreamed of.

  She shook her head at Whitney as soon as she got into the room. “Wow. I can’t believe you can act so normal right after you just blew my mind.”

  “I enjoyed it, too.” Whitney gave her a kiss on the cheek, smiling up at her. A pan was on the stove, flames licking under it.

  “It’s not the same, though.” Yolanda let her eyes roam over Whitney’s body, hungrily taking in the angles and planes. “You know, I think I’m ready to do the same to you.”

  “That’s good to know.” Whitney danced away from her, seeming uninterested. She opened the fridge and looked inside, her butt sticking out. Yolanda stood back, enjoying the view.

  “I’m serious,” Yolanda said, going up behind her and holding her hips. “I spent enough time in the closet. I don’t need to waste more time.”

  “And I said that’s good to know.” Whitney pushed back and pulled away from her, looking less amused. She dumped oil into the pan, making it sizzle.

  Although Yolanda had been satisfied a moment ago, a surge of sexual energy went through her. She wanted Whitney, wanted her badly. She’d been hesitant about making the offer the first time. Now she was enthusiastic. Why was Whitney still saying no to her? Being denied only made Yolanda want her more.

  “You’re trying to tease me, is that it?” Yolanda asked, her voice dropping. She grabbed Whitney from behind again, nuzzling into her neck. As she dug her teeth into the soft flesh, Whitney let out a moan. “I can tell how much you want me.”

  “That’s not the problem.”

  Yolanda bit her harder. “Then what’s the problem?”

  Although Whitney sighed, she put her hands on Yolanda’s chest and pushed her away again. “Some girls just aren’t into receiving. I like pleasing you. That’s all I want or need.”

  Yolanda raised an eyebrow. She might not have been at this for long, but she was more than able to recognize what was going on in Whitney’s voice. The desire in her voice said she wasn’t only into giving.

  Yolanda stepped back, crossing her arms. She would let this go for the moment, but she wanted to get into Whitney’s pants as soon as possible.

  “So… what are we eating?”

  Twenty

  Whitney nodded to Maxwell, who had his arms crossed as usual. “Hey,” Whitney said. “What’s up?”

  “Not much,” he said. “Wet T-shirt contest is this Friday.”

  “Right, I almost forgot,” Whitney said. She’d been pretty distracted over these past few days. She hadn’t thought much about the club at all during her two nights off.

  “Excited? I’m sure there will be a flood of new customers coming in for you to serve.”

  “As long as you’ll be keeping the rowdy ones out, I’ll be great,” Whitney said.

  Maxwell laughed. “Seriously, what’s up? You’re looking… happy.”

  “I am happy,” she said, whispering so Yolanda wouldn’t hear her. The DJ was only a few steps behind, having gotten out of the car a second after her. “You totally called it about Yolanda.”

  Maxwell’s eyes flicked over Whitney’s shoulder, and Whitney smiled. Even the mental image of Yolanda made her happy. They had been seeing each other for over a week, and Yolanda was less and less conflicted each time.

  “She was in the closet?”

  “If she’d been much deeper, she would’ve been in Narnia.”

  “So you went in there and dug her out?”

  Whitney grinned. “You could put it like that.”

  She felt less confident than she sounded. She was ecstatic to be dating Yolanda, but Yolanda still wouldn’t use the word “gay” to describe herself. Yolanda never brought up her sexuality, and every time Whitney did, Yolanda said she wanted to avoid labels for now.

  “I knew it,” Maxwell said. “I could see the signs a mile away.”

  As Yolanda caught up with them, she nodded to him. “Hey.”

  Maxwell smiled back as if the
y hadn’t just been talking about her. “Hey.”

  “Anyway, we need to go inside,” Whitney said. “Yolanda is going to help me set up. Let’s hit the gym soon. I’m going to deadlift more than you next time.” She’d out-lift the brawny bouncer when hell froze over, but Maxwell always put up patiently with her attempts at trash-talking.

  With a raise of his double-pierced eyebrow, Maxwell said, “All right, see you later. Have fun.”

  Fun. It was exactly what Whitney and Yolanda had been having over the past few days, Whitney thought as she walked inside. She was never happier than when she was between Yolanda’s legs, touching, stroking, or licking her. She loved to watch Yolanda get wetter with every flick of her finger.

  Even better was when she brought Yolanda to one of her incredible orgasms. Maybe because Yolanda had denied herself for so long, every time she came was a life-shattering victory. Whitney adored how Yolanda’s walls spasmed around her fingers. Even better was feeling her clit swell and throb under her tongue—then licking it softly until she came again and again.

  Unfortunately, Yolanda was still making advances toward pleasing Whitney. Whitney had to turn her down politely but firmly every time. It wasn’t going to happen. No way would Whitney ever let her find out about her leg.

  As they moved into the main room, Whitney nodded to the rest of the staff. She and Yolanda headed straight for the bar, where Yolanda helped her with a practiced ease. They had been doing this together almost every night. They were falling into a rhythm together, Yolanda helping Whitney with all of the heavy things that needed unpacking while Whitney counted the cash and chopped lemons for garnishes.

  “You’re all set up,” Yolanda said when everything was in place. “I think you’re ready to get some people drunk.”

  “Sounds good,” Whitney said, looking wistfully at Yolanda. She would have taken her home right then if they hadn’t both had to work.

  “See you later,” Yolanda said, giving her a sweet smile before walking away.

  The music started as soon as Yolanda got back to her booth, and Whitney nodded her head to the beat. Every second that she listened was another reminder of the woman she was quickly falling for. She enjoyed Yolanda’s taste both in and out of the club, even if Yolanda only played a small selection of the music she liked here.