Seven
Connie slipped into the front seat of the shiny green Taurus. “I was looking for the truck.”
“Welcome to my bargain-on-wheels,” Kasey smiled. “Two years old. I bought it from a retired teacher.”
“These things really exist? I figured that was only a story that was supposed to raise a warning flag at the used-car lot.”
“Oh, and I suppose you don’t believe in Santa Claus or fairies, then,” she smiled.
“That would definitely be pushing it.”
“Fine. Then at least sit back and enjoy your ride in the Clit Car.”
“The what?”
“Sharon Davis humor. She nicknamed it ... Clitoris—CliTaurus.”
Connie laughed, partly because it was funny, partly out of disbelief that Sharon Davis really had a sense of humor. “Then you’d better treat her gently,” she said, passing her hand slowly over the dash.
‘“Always. Where are we going? There are sales at the mall.”
“Onward to the sales. Let’s find you a bargain on a new dress.”
Like shoppers possessed, they forged from store to store, rummaging through the racks and trying on clothes. “Connie, I’m going to try these on,” Kasey said, whisking past her aisle.
“Wait. I want to see them,” she said, looking up to find Kasey already out of sight. Hurrying down the aisle with a couple more outfits, she was suddenly caught by an idea. There at the end of the rack was the sleaziest, skimpiest, most gaudy piece of apparel she had ever seen. The combination of gold lamé and black see-through material was bad enough. But the tight bodice barely had enough gold lame to qualify as a triple-A trainer, and the skirt wouldn’t cover the tiniest of buttocks. Connie grabbed her find and slipped it between the other outfits. She could barely keep from giggling aloud as she ran to the dressing rooms.
“Kasey, I have a few more dresses here.” She handed her choices through the curtain.
“Thanks. I don’t like the first one I picked out.”
“Let me see it,” Connie ordered. The curtain slid open and Connie surveyed the trim, flawless figure outlined in blue. “What’s wrong with it?”
“These,” she said, tugging at the short sleeves. “I’d have to find a jacket to go with it.”
“Why?”
Kasey ducked quickly back into the cubicle. “I don’t like my arms to show.”
“Don’t be silly, Kasey. Your arms are beautiful.” How could anyone think any differently?
She could hear the hangers being moved around from hook to hook, but still no response indicating Kasey’d found her surprise. Another minute went by. Connie waited impatiently, smiling to herself.
“This one’s much better.” Suddenly the curtain flew open. “It’s definitely me.”
Connie was stunned. Her mouth dropped open while a rare flash of heat flushed her face and spread quickly over her body. The surprise had been so effectively reversed. Kasey stood shamelessly before her, hand on hip. Previously unexposed flesh, creamy white below the tan line, pushed imprudently against the futile confines of the gold lamé bodice. What kept it in place was a mystery.
Before Connie could recoup, Kasey seized the opportunity. With a perfect streetwalker gait, she swished into the hallway, snapping her gum loudly, and headed toward the mirror. By now, Connie was in hysterics, and heads started popping out of cubicles to see what was so funny. Kasey continued the charade, stopping on her way back to adjust the material barely covering her breasts. The laughter had spread down the hallway as women in various stages of dress emerged from their dressing rooms to join the fun. Connie was laughing so hard she had to lean against the wall with her legs crossed. Kasey walked up to within inches of her and spoke in cracking spearmint. “Con, I’m so glad you found this, it’s perfect.”
“Dammit, Kasey, you had to pull this when I have to go to the bathroom,” she managed, before breaking into laughter again. “I’m gonna wet my pants.”
Kasey disappeared behind the curtain, but the vision of her remained. Then without warning, as Connie leaned against the wall with a smile, the vision turned from an erotic paradox into one of heated sensuality. Soft flimsy material clung tightly over smooth firm flesh. Hardened nipples taunted their confinement beneath the shiny gold. A warm rush swept through Connie, undefinable and slightly uncomfortable. She likened it to the flush of embarrassment. Yet she didn’t wish it away. She wished only to hang on to it long enough to dissect it, to actually tear it down to its roots, until she understood it. Which, of course, wasn’t possible right here and now.
The laughter down the hall had died to giggles when Kasey, behind the curtain, suddenly burst into laughter.
That was all it took to start Connie all over again.
“Kasey, stop it!” she pleaded. “I can’t laugh anymore. My face hurts.”
“I can’t help it. You should have seen your face.”
“I’ve got to make it to the bathroom,” Connie said, trying to concentrate on control. “I’ll meet you in the middle of the mall.” She moved as quickly as she dared. “By the fountain.”
Kasey laughed quietly to herself. She had successfully broken through that unshakable Connie Bradford control, interrupted that efficient flow of movement that was never out of sync and never without purpose, and untracked the carefully plotted thoughts always set toward a mission. And what she saw pleased her. Surely enjoyment this natural and spontaneous is safe enough.
Eight
The banquet room was beginning to fill with people—company employees and their guests, and clients and their guests. Connie seated her parents at the front table with her boss, Jack, and his wife. The invitations read:
REFRESHMENTS AND HORS D’OEUVRES 7:00–8:00
DEDICATION OF SMALL BUSINESS DIVISION 8:15–8:45
ENTERTAINMENT AND DANCING UNTIL MIDNIGHT
It was nearly seven-thirty. Still no Kasey. Connie greeted and mingled and religiously checked the door. Having made at least a brief stop at each table, she relented and returned to the front. “Connie, did you see Greg come in?” asked her father. Turning, she spotted him talking with another couple from his computer company.
“There’s room for him to sit here with us,” her mother offered.
“No, Mom, I’m not seeing Greg anymore.”
Dad would no doubt miss their friendly football wagers and their political camaraderie. Connie would not. “What happened?” he asked.
“Not now, John,” her mother directed.
“I’ll tell you about it later,” Connie promised.
At the same time, she was becoming increasingly irritated about his being there. All week, she had assumed he wouldn’t be back from the convention in time. She did not want to share this with him. Tonight was hers, to be shared with her parents and with Kasey. For once, it would be nice to experience a man graciously bowing out of a situation, acknowledging that it’s not possible to control someone else’s feelings. Logic, though, spoke loudly against that happening. She hadn’t met a man yet with the maturity to handle that kind of rejection, including her own father.
Looking over at him, she wondered what had happened between her parents to make her mother leave his bed? What happened to the emotion that produced the courtship poems she had secretly read as a child? Where had the sexual excitement of their youth gone? Was it possible that her mother, like herself, found sex unfulfilling? Enduring only to have a family? Or, maybe she caught him with someone else. Whatever it was, he’d been on the hunt ever since Connie was in her teens. Rejection made him act like a teenage boy; embarrassing to everyone around him. She never understood why her mother had put up with it all these years.
The piano was being moved to the front of the room, prompting Connie to move her guitar from behind the table. “You look great,” came a deep male voice from behind her. She turned to find eyes the color of rich coffee taking in the silky peach material folded softly in a vee over her breasts. “In fact, you’re stunning,” he added, fo
llowing the material to the wide-belted waist and its gentle fall over her slender hips.
“Tom,” she greeted with a smile. “I was just about to look for you.”
He was lean and tall, his severely dark hair slicked back to perfection. A man with the graciousness of a true gentleman and admirable musical talent. It was his composition for guitar and piano that they would perform together tonight. She accepted his compliments without reservation, for in the three years he had done business with her company he’d never given her reason not to.
“You’re not nervous, are you?” he asked, arranging his music sheets.
“A little.”
“Don’t worry. You play beautifully. It’s going to be fun.” His smile was reassuring, but far too brief. “Connie, someone just came in that I haven’t seen in a long time. I’ll see you in a little bit. Don’t be nervous now.”
Watching him stride off in the direction of the entrance area, Connie caught sight of Kasey’s slender figure in the formfitting cream and white dress. She was here. Connie’s pulse quickened as she began making her way through the crowd.
“Kasey,” Tom called.
She turned and smiled immediately. “It’s been way too long,” she said, stretching her arms up to his neck.
He hugged her so hard he picked her right up off the floor and whispered, “You are the most beautiful dyke I’ve ever seen.”
She kissed the side of his face with a smile. “How’s everything at home?” she asked, back on the floor again.
“Couldn’t be better. And this is Troy, right?”
Troy returned a firm handshake. “How ya doin’?”
Connie witnessed the hug from Tom, masked her surprise, and made eye contact with Troy. “You’re a handsome sight,” she said to his wide, boyish smile.
He tugged at the tie matching Kasey’s dress. “Yeah? For a grunt, I clean up all right.”
“Hey, I didn’t realize you two knew each other,” she said, turning her attention to Kasey and Tom.
“I’ve known Kasey for quite a few years now.”
“Tom was the one who told me about your company’s new services,” explained Kasey.
Connie gave Kasey’s hand a squeeze. “Then I have you to thank for meeting this lady.”
A thumping from the microphone diverted their attention. “If everyone will get the last of their refreshments and be seated,” someone announced, “we will be starting the dedication portion of our program in about five minutes.”
Connie excused herself. “I’d better get back up front.”
Connie listened anxiously as Jack dedicated her new department. She smiled at his humor and attempted to keep eye contact with Kasey at a minimum. If only Greg would offer the same courtesy. His stare was making her more irritated than nervous. Otherwise, everything was moving along almost too perfectly. With professional flair, Connie introduced her new clients. She saved Kasey’s introduction until last; the only woman among them. She wondered how many people were surprised to see Kasey stand and not Troy. The thought made her smile that much longer.
“For those of you who do not know Tom,” announced Jack, “he is the owner of Steppens Music, the largest music store in the city and a client for the past three years. He has written and performed for the civic theater more times than you can count, so I’m sure you’re going to enjoy what he has planned for you tonight.”
Gratefully, Connie concentrated on the notes. Her focus rested comfortably on the feel of the strings as she tuned out everything except the marriage of sound between the two kinds of strings. Her fingers danced with precision the familiar moves that sent the notes flowing in perfect harmony. Then the notes of the piano strings quieted, leaving the strings of her guitar carrying the melody alone. So easy it was to lose herself in the beauty of sound. It wrapped itself around her, flowed through her. She rode the drama of its crescendo, drifted gently on its descent. And for a time there existed only the excitement of its drama. Music was the therapy for her mind that running was to her body. Her solo was flawless. A faint smile showed on her lips.
Troy, with his arm draped over the back of her chair, watched Kasey take in Connie’s every expression, every move.
Aware of his stare, Kasey turned. “What?”
He shook his head with a sly grin. “Nothin’.”
Kasey hit his leg. “I’m trying to learn to play,” she said, redirecting her gaze to Connie.
“Yeah.”
The piece was beautiful and at its end received tremendous applause. Connie, pleased and relieved, finally looked toward Kasey.
Bravo, she mouthed, her eyes fixed on Connie’s.
The applause became unimportant. Kasey had liked it.
“Connie, your mother is pretty tired. I think we’ll go on home,” her father said as Connie returned her guitar behind the table.
She hugged her mother’s drooping shoulders and kissed the soft pale cheek. “Are you okay, Mom?”
“I’m just too tired to stay the rest of the evening. Congratulations, honey. You played so beautifully. You enjoy the rest of the night. I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said as she gathered her things.
While she watched them make their way toward the door, Connie listened to the unfamiliar notes of Tom’s next piece. “This song wasn’t planned,” he explained, “but there’s someone here tonight who sang it in a production with me two years ago. Kasey, will you sing it with me again?”
Connie looked to see a surprised Kasey shaking her head no. But Tom continued playing. “This is an Anne Murray/Dave Loggins duet called ‘Nobody Loves Me Like You Do.’” With his eyes on Kasey, he began to sing.
Apparently not wanting to make any more of a fuss, Kasey stood. She smiled at the thank you Connie mouthed in her direction, walked around her table, and began, “Love is glowing in your eyes.” The strength of her voice carried easily without the microphone. She continued toward the piano, her eyes fixed on Tom, and picked up Connie’s microphone. Beside him now, she watched as Tom sang his part to her.
Kasey had taken her captive. Connie no longer had the power to pull her eyes away. She watched helplessly as love traveled the notes, fluent between the singers. Their eyes never left each other, sending and receiving the music’s message. A seemingly private concert to which Connie had become an unwilling voyeur, caught in a mire of contradiction. She can’t be in love with him. I don’t want her to be in love with him. Her body shivered. Perspiration seeped from every pore. Can he be the man who left her? What if she loses her strength and falls back into his charismatic web?
Their voices, singing from their souls, sang the chorus in unison. There was so much emotion in Kasey’s face. Connie shivered again.
Tom sang, “You touch my heart in places.”
Kasey answered, “That I never even knew.”
Throughout the second verse, Connie’s focus remained fixed on the woman whose voice caused her soul to quiver. And like a video camera, her mind recorded everything, from the way her dress hugged her chest and hips to her lips, glistening as she sang. Nothing was overlooked—the shapely legs, the graceful body language, even the gold chain shining boldly against her strong hand. Connie’s relentless gaze followed the long white sleeve, covering what she knew was a beautifully muscled arm, to the broad shoulder. There the movement of a long gold earring caught her attention, dancing seductively with every move of Kasey’s head. Kasey looked down into Tom’s eyes as they finished together.
Transfixed beyond control, she watched Kasey once again close her eyes and listen to Tom skillfully touching the keys that put their song to rest. Then she leaned down, with no mercy for Connie’s bewilderment, and sweetly kissed his lips. Applause once again filled the room as Kasey turned to return to her table. For one brief moment, Connie stared into the blueness of Kasey’s eyes, her heart pounding a marathon cadence. No smile was offered; none was received.
The mass of entangled emotion allowed Connie only one clear realization—she was confused. Not a
bout her need for Kasey’s friendship; that need was an old familiar one. Her confusion involved Kasey’s sexuality and the feelings it generated in her. Greg’s crude labeling of Kasey as a dyke had easily been dismissed, considered born of hurt and jealousy. Her sexuality was irrelevant to their friendship anyway. It was of no concern. So, what’s so suddenly important about a relationship with Tom? Is it any less threatening to our friendship if Kasey is gay? There is no foundation for this reasoning. And no foundation for her nervousness. Connie, the consummate professional, sure and confident, was having a difficult time understanding how the presence of one woman could cause such physical reactions. Normally, logic and deduction would have effectively put things in order by now. But this place in which she found herself was foreign ground. Nothing was cooperatively falling in order.
Unaware of how long she had been thinking, Connie’s attention was suddenly captured by a hand on her shoulder. Tom’s handsome face gazed down at her. “May I have this dance?”
“You may.”
She liked Tom. She didn’t like feeling that he was somehow a threat. But there were questions needing answers, and Connie was none too shy to ask them, diplomatically of course, and strategically placed around mutual compliments. “You and Kasey sing beautifully together,” she said tactfully. “The duet was a wonderful surprise.”
“Kasey has a tremendous talent. She really should sing professionally. Actually she had started doing some civic theater musicals, and a few weddings with me before ... I haven’t seen her for two years.”
“What would you have done if she hadn’t got up tonight?”
“Finished the song myself. I was pretty sure I could get her up there, though.”
She accepted his genuine smile as a perfect opportunity for the big question. “Did you two ever date?”
“No.” His eyes found Kasey. “We’re just good friends with a lot of respect for each other.”
Marianne K. Martin - Love in the Balance Page 4