Love On Call

by Radclyffe

“Loner?” Mari guessed.

  “I just kept my head down and put in my time.”

  The statement was cryptic, but Mari sensed the memory was a hard one. “So the girls are giving Margie trouble?”

  “Something like that, I think. Of course, neither of them would tell me.”

  “It’s probably better they sort it out themselves. It’s a teenager thing.”

  “Yeah, probably, but this is a little different.”

  “Why is that?”

  Glenn seemed to be giving her answer some thought until she finally said, “It’s not a secret, so I don’t think he’d mind me saying. Blake is trans, and he’s already drawn some unwanted attention from an older bunch of ass—morons.”

  “He’s out to everyone?” Mari asked. “And Dr. Remy is supportive, I imagine?”

  “Sure,” Glenn said, as if there couldn’t be any other answer.

  Mari sagged back in her chair, so many emotions charging through her at once she had trouble sorting them out. “I think I’m jealous.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of Blake.”

  “Are you saying you’re…?”

  “Me? No,” Mari said, enjoying the look of worry that flashed across Glenn’s face. “No, I am firmly a women-only lesbian, but I didn’t really get that about myself until just recently. Makes me feel a little silly when I see someone like Blake.”

  “Some don’t make all the connections right away. No harm, no foul.”

  “I bet you did,” Mari said.

  “What makes you think so?”

  “Because you seem so certain, so sure of everything. Who you are and what you’re about.”

  “Maybe that’s just a front.”

  “I don’t think so,” Mari said softly.

  “You still didn’t tell me why you’re jealous of Blake,” Glenn said, once again neatly deflecting the topic from herself.

  Mari regretted her impulsive statement. She wasn’t ready to expose her private hurts, especially not so soon. “It’s a familiar story, I guess. It’s not important.”

  “If it’s your story, it’s not familiar, and it’s not unimportant.” Glenn held her gaze, steady and strong. “But it’s yours to tell.”

  Mine to tell. Maybe Glenn was practically a stranger, but somehow, she didn’t feel that way. Glenn was so intensely present, so focused on her, Mari trusted her in a way she hadn’t trusted anyone in forever.

  “It is, isn’t it. My story.” Mari took a breath. Maybe telling it would take away some of the pain.

  Chapter Seven

  “What do you think they’re talking about?” Blake said quietly.

  Margie swallowed her bite of pizza. “Who? Queen bitch?”

  Blake cut a sidelong glance at the group of girls clustered around the counter, laughing with bright eyes that took in everyone in the room and quickly dismissed them, as if no one else mattered enough to be noticed. Usually Blake preferred to go unnoticed—but in a way, being erased with the flick of an eyelash was worse. Funny, he could barely remember when he wanted to be part of a group like that, though he never was. Too shy, too weird, too wrong. “Which one is the QB? Madison or Kaylee?”

  “You can’t tell?”

  “I don’t know, I don’t pay all that much attention to them.”

  “That’s probably part of the problem.” Margie snorted. “Kaylee, of course. The one everyone follows around like a bunch of baby ducks.”

  “Hey,” Blake protested, “I like ducks.”

  “Yeah, me too, usually.” Margie leaned back and sipped her Coke, pretending not to notice when Kaylee, who she secretly envied for her straight blond hair that probably never got frizzy every time it even threatened to rain, looked in her direction. Margie practiced what Harper called a thousand-yard stare, looking somewhere over Kaylee’s left shoulder and imagining herself standing in the middle of a huge cornfield with nothing around her but miles and miles of rows of green. She’d drown herself in the horse trough before she let Kaylee know that a single snarky comment even registered in her hearing, let alone made her mad.

  “I don’t get it,” Blake said. “Them, I mean. Why be that way?”

  Margie sighed. Sometimes, Blake was clueless, but then, weren’t all guys when it came to girls? She leaned forward and lowered her voice, aware that Kaylee and company were still watching them. “You’re the new guy, the cute new guy, and you’re supposed to be paying attention to them, not somebody like me.”

  “What are you talking about? Somebody like you? You mean smart and funny and cute, instead of stuck-up and just downright…well, mean?”

  “Whoa,” Margie said, feeling her face flame. Jeez, she didn’t want to be blushing in front of those girls. They’d think Blake had just said something way personal. Of course, he had, and that was kind of weird. Nice, but, jeez. “Is that what you think?”

  Blake stared at the tabletop. “Well, yeah. I just figured you knew that.”

  Margie laughed. “Well, how am I supposed to know that if you never said anything?”

  Blake lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know, don’t you ever look in the mirror?”

  “Not where I spend a lot of time. Do you?”

  “Uh…” Blake wondered if he should answer for real or just shrug it off. But it was Margie asking, right? And she got him. She never got turned off or made him feel like some kind of freak by anything he confessed. Being able to tell someone besides his mom, instead of his mom, about all the things he kept hidden made him feel normal. “I didn’t use to like looking in a mirror because every time I did, I got this creepy feeling that everything was all wrong. That the person looking back wasn’t me.” He laughed and picked the edge of his paper plate. “Now I probably look too much.”

  “Is the right person looking back?”

  Blake grinned, still not meeting her eyes. Still a little embarrassed, or maybe not embarrassed exactly, but self-conscious. “Yeah, pretty much, anyhow. More all the time.”

  “Well, I’ve probably never said this,” Margie said, “in so many words, I mean, but like I said—you’re a cute guy.”

  Blake raised his eyes. “You think by the time school starts, everybody will know about me, and maybe it’ll already be over?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anybody else like you, at least not here.” Margie sighed. “Some kids are just jerks, but you’ll be okay, sooner or later.”

  “Yeah, it’s the later I’m worried about.” Blake straightened his shoulders. “Anyhow, I wasn’t talking about QB and Co. I don’t care what they have to say. I was wondering about Glenn and Mari. Do you think they’re talking about us?”

  Margie glanced over to where Glenn sat with a petite, pretty woman with gorgeous black hair that shimmered even in the crappy light from the dingy fluorescents. Did everyone but her have to have great hair? “How do you know her name? I’ve never seen her before.”

  “Oh, I saw her today in the ER. She’s a new physician assistant. We’ll be working with her.”

  “That’s cool.” Margie snorted. “They look like they’re on a date. I don’t think they’re thinking about us.”

  “You don’t think Glenn is gonna say anything to my mom, do you?”

  “About those bitches being bitchy?” Margie shook her head. “That’s not Glenn. If she’s worried about them hassling us, she’ll do something about it herself.”

  “She won’t, though, will she?”

  “I don’t think so. Not when we asked her not to.”

  “That’s good, because I think the best thing to do is just ignore them,” Blake said. “If we ignore them, maybe they’ll quit.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” Margie caught Kaylee sneering in their direction. She could handle the nastiness—she’d never wanted to be one of Kaylee’s crowd—but she wasn’t so sure she could ignore them if they made Blake a target for their meanness.

  *

  Mari searched for a place to start a story she’d never told before. “My family is a big one. Seven
kids.”

  Glenn whistled. “That’s kind of unusual today.”

  “Catholic. Anti-contraception.”

  “Brothers or sisters?”

  “All brothers except my sister and me.” Mari’s voice caught and she cleared her throat. “Selena. She’s my twin. We’re the oldest.” When Glenn politely didn’t ask, she added, “Twenty-five.”

  “A twin. That’s got to be special.”

  “Oh, it was. Is—I mean.” Mari began folding the straw wrapper into tiny accordion shapes, staring at her hands until she saw they were trembling. She put them in her lap. When she looked up, Glenn was studying her with that same singular intensity.

  “You don’t have to talk about it,” Glenn said softly. “Your story, remember?”

  “I want to. I haven’t, with anyone. But you’re a good listener.”

  Glenn smiled. “No one is going to be fighting for our table. Take your time.”

  “About a year ago, I was kind of forced to take a good look at my life, and I finally admitted to myself what I’d pretty much always known, that I was a lesbian.” Mari shook her head. “Boy, does that sound dumb now. I dated on and off in high school, lots of times double-dating with my sister, but that kind of trickled off when I hit my twenties. Selena dated enough for both of us, but my mother was pushing us both to get serious.”

  “Let me guess,” Glenn said. “Grandchildren.”

  “Oh, yeah. As soon as possible, now that all of her own kids are at least teenagers.”

  “And?”

  “And I never really could see myself with any of the guys I dated. A couple of them were nice and wanted to get serious, but I felt like I was only partly there. Something was missing—not with them, or at least not anything that was their fault. But something I wanted to feel, I just didn’t.”

  Glenn nodded faintly and said nothing, waiting. From anyone else the silence would have been unnerving, but Mari sensed her attention like a touch. “When I got to a point where lying to myself about anything seemed pointless, I needed to tell my family. I needed them to know me.”

  “And they didn’t take it well?”

  Mari laughed, feeling the tears pool on her lashes. She blinked angrily. “My father is still not speaking to me except through my mother. My mother is waiting for me to outgrow this crazy phase. The worst, though, is Selena. She hasn’t talked to me since I told her.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Well,” Mari said with a long sigh, “like I said, familiar story.” She glanced over at Blake and Margie, who were sharing pizza and talking with their heads bent close. “I know it has to be a lot harder for him in a lot of ways, adding all the physical changes to the emotional ones, but I envy him his mother’s support.” She glanced at Glenn. “And that of his friends.”

  “He’s got plenty of people on his side, and he’s a really strong kid.” Glenn reached across the table and squeezed Mari’s hand. “Like you.”

  “I don’t feel so strong sometimes.”

  “Hey, you must have suspected how your family’d react,” Glenn said. “But you did it just the same, and that took guts.”

  “I’d do it again,” Mari said finally, and knowing that helped. “I just wish they could love the person I’ve always been.”

  “Maybe they will one day,” Glenn said.

  “Maybe. Anyhow, thanks for listening.”

  “Anytime,” Glenn said. There was more to the story, but she knew all too well some things couldn’t be uncovered all at once.

  Mari pushed away the melancholy. Whatever her family did or didn’t do, she had a life to build. “What about you? Is your family around here?”

  Glenn grimaced. “I don’t have much family to speak of. My mom died when I was about thirteen, and my old man is a drunk. I got out of Texas as soon as I could, and we don’t keep in touch.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mari said. “I must sound like a whiner. At least my family was always there for me through everything, even when they couldn’t accept who I really was.” She shook her head. “Love the sinner and not the sin, and all that.”

  “You’ll be in good company around here, with the sinners and all,” Glenn said with a grin. When Mari laughed, the sadness leaving her eyes, she was so beautiful, Glenn vowed to find a way to make her laugh again.

  *

  “Shh,” Abby said, half laughing, half groaning. “The windows are open.”

  “I’m not the one calling on the deities,” Flann murmured, her mouth against the pounding pulse in Abby’s throat. A trickle of a breeze drifted through the open windows, stirring the sultry air that settled on her naked back like an unwanted quilt. Sweat pooled at the base of her spine, and Abby’s skin was an inferno against hers. Still, she wouldn’t move away, wouldn’t relinquish the heady feel of Abby’s body under hers.

  Flann skimmed a hand down Abby’s flank, over her hip and around to the back of her thigh, hitching Abby’s leg a little higher.

  Abby gasped when Flann’s taut thigh pressed harder between her legs. “I’d really, really like it if you put your hand where your leg is.”

  “Is that right.” Flann nipped at the underside of Abby’s jaw, loving the way Abby tensed beneath her. Whenever they were in bed together, she had this all-consuming urge to make Abby come, to feel her body tighten, winding higher and higher, until she exploded. No matter how many times she vowed to draw things out, to keep Abby on the brink, she had to force herself to go slow, to tease and torture, especially when Abby demanded instant satisfaction. Flann groaned just thinking about how sexy Abby was when she wanted to come. “God, you make me crazy, you’re so hot.”

  “Then go crazy,” Abby whispered in Flann’s ear, catching her earlobe between her teeth. “Get as crazy as you want, just make me come. Now, damn it.”

  Laughing softly, Flann shifted her hips and slid her hand between them, cupping Abby in her palm. She slid one finger lower, drawing the tip along the petal-soft channel until she circled her clit.

  “God, that’s exactly right. You have the best hands.” Abby dug her fingers into Flann’s shoulders.

  “All yours, baby.” Flann stroked and circled and teased until Abby’s breath shuddered and broke on a cry, then slid inside her to ride the orgasm from the first crest to another, even deeper orgasm.

  Finally Abby grasped Flann’s wrist, stilling her motion. “Stay right there. Don’t move.”

  “You sure you want me to stop?”

  “Positive. Perfect.”

  Flann relaxed, working to catch her breath. Somehow she never remembered to breathe when Abby was about to come. In another minute, Abby drew Flann’s hand away, nudged her over, and leaned up on her elbow.

  “I’ll be happy when we have our own fifty acres and I don’t have to worry about who might be listening.” Abby kissed Flann and sighed.

  “Who’s worrying?” Flann asked.

  Abby laughed. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not advertise our carnal ecstasies.”

  “Ecstasies, huh?” Flann grinned. “We might need more than fifty acres, because I think there’s a lot of ecstasies, carnal and otherwise, in our future.”

  “You’re right. Starting now.” Abby kissed her way down Flann’s throat, between her breasts, and lower. Flann’s hands came into her hair, playing ever so softly over her scalp. She loved the way Flann caressed her, as if she was everything precious in the world. When she reached the base of Flann’s belly, she stroked up the inside of Flann’s thigh with the tips of her fingers until Flann groaned. Flann liked to tease, but Abby liked to take.

  She pressed Flann’s legs apart and made room for herself, slowly kissing her way from Flann’s belly downward. When she took her in, Flann arched, a strangled cry caught in her throat. Abby’s heart lifted and every single thought left her mind except one—pleasing the one woman in the world who held the key to everything in her life.

  “Damn it, Abby,” Flann said through gritted teeth. “You’ll make me come right now
doing that.”

  Abby grasped Flann’s hand as she pushed her and pushed her, until Flann broke with a long, low groan, her body bowstring tight for an endless moment. Flann sagged back, and Abby pressed her cheek to Flann’s thigh, listening to the sound of Flann’s ragged breathing and her own runaway heart. She’d never been so content or so satisfied in her life.

  “Have I mentioned I love your mouth?” Flann muttered, her words slurred.

  “Now and then.”

  “And your hands.”

  Laughing, Abby kissed her thigh. “You might’ve a time or two.”

  “And everything about you?”

  Abby roused herself and curled into the curve of Flann’s body. Flann barely stirred. “I love reducing you to a quivering mass of jelly.”

  Flann chuckled. “Consider me quivering.”

  Abby tucked her cheek into Flann’s shoulder, drew her leg over the top of Flann’s thighs, and wrapped an arm around her middle. She couldn’t get any closer, and never wanted to be any farther away. “I love you.”

  “I love you too. Let’s get married before we move into the new place.”

  Abby stilled. “You still mean married as in church, minister, wedding ceremony?”

  “Yeah, all of that.”

  “When were you thinking of doing this?” Abby willed her sex-addled brain to catch up to the conversation. Her heart started pounding again.

  “No reason to wait.”

  “Flann, honey…Harper and Presley are getting married this summer.”

  “Yeah, I know that. I’m Harper’s best man.”

  “So don’t you think we should let the dust settle before we spring this on everyone?”

  “Okay, so how about right after them?”

  Abby laughed. “Do you know how long it takes to plan a wedding?”

  “Are you kidding? With all the brainpower you and Presley and Carrie and my mother and sister have at your disposal?” Flann tugged Abby’s hair. “Come on, you adore me, don’t you?”

  “Endlessly.”

  “And I am yours forever.” Flann cupped Abby’s cheek, her expression suddenly deep and intoxicatingly intense. “At least say you’ll marry me now—soon—soonest. Please.”