by Radclyffe
Kyle closed the door gently behind her and surveyed her workshop with a sigh of contentment. Benches, piled high with half-finished pieces and dismantled forms, lined the walls beneath peg-boards that held small tools. Paint cans and brushes were neatly stacked in one corner, and a central worktable lay buried under current projects and power tools. A fine layer of wood dust covered everything, and particles big enough to touch floated on the still air.
She slipped on her coveralls and tuned the radio to a station that played a mix of country and rock and roll. As was often her habit when she had something on her mind, she sought refuge in work. She began hand sanding a tabletop, her thoughts drifting as she fell into the well-practiced rhythm of the work. Scenes from the previous night kaleidoscoped in her mind, and she plummeted back into the smoke-filled club, immersed in the music and the heat and the thrill of desire. She saw Dane standing nearly astride her thighs, imperious and aloof, just a hint of a smile lifting the corner of her sensuous mouth. Then they were dancing, and Dane’s hands were on her hips, arousing her passion. The moments flickered by too quickly as she recalled the cold ride on her bike through the dark early-morning streets and the hot press of Dane’s hands on her body. The memory of their silent entrance into Dane’s house and the unfamiliar yet exhilarating physical encounter left her both excited and uncertain. She knew she wanted to feel that sharp edge of awareness, both physical and emotional, again. And she wanted to experience it with Dane. She could still feel her hands, her breath, her body. She could still feel herself coming for her. She groaned softly and stared at the virgin grain surfacing beneath the varnish she had just striped away, but she was seeing Dane’s face.
What if I never see her again?
It was impossible to deny that something had shifted inside her—or been awakened—because of her night with Dane. Usually her sexual affairs were casual and pleasant, but they rarely engaged her emotionally in any lasting way. She never missed the deeper connections—she had friends for that. But with Dane, even though they had been strangers, their joining had not been casual. By allowing Dane to restrain her, and then to control her, she had granted Dane a degree of trust she’d never shared before. Why she had instinctively trusted Dane she couldn’t say, why she’d allowed Dane to top her didn’t matter—all that mattered now was that she had done it. By the very nature of their interplay, she had been changed. And she had been touched in some way so fundamental to her being that she wondered if she would ever be content again without that kind of intensity. She feared Dane had released a hunger that could easily consume her, and worse, she feared that it might be only Dane who could assuage it.
Sighing, Kyle switched to a finer grain of sandpaper and worked until the varnish was gone. When she applied a light oil, the wood took on a dark warmth before her eyes. She set the piece aside to dry and began on another. She worked steadily for most of the morning, humming to the old familiar tunes in the background. When she finally straightened up, she grimaced at the cramp in her lower back and knew it wasn’t caused by her work.
Definitely not used to last night’s activity. She smiled. But God, it was worth it.
The wall phone rang just as she reached for the next item on her list of projects for the day. She grabbed it and hiked one hip onto the nearby counter.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” a familiar voice asked. “Where are you?”
“Hey, Nance. I’m in the shop.”
“Oh no, you don’t. Not on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. The wine is chilled, the sun is coming around to the deck, and I have been deserted. When can you be here?”
“Where’s Roger?”
“Roger who?”
Kyle laughed, picturing her friend and business associate sitting out on her redwood deck in some impossibly skimpy outfit, bored and restless. “That guy you live with.”
“Oh, him. He has some terribly important something or other to do at the hospital. I’ve written him off for the day. So are you coming over, or what?”
“Well, I’m right in the middle of finishing that table.”
“It doesn’t have to be done until next weekend.”
Kyle sighed. “I know, but...”
“Ky—yle!”
“Oh, all right.” She could almost hear Nancy pout. “I’ll be there in an hour.”
“Thirty minutes.”
Kyle laughed again. “Okay, okay. I’m leaving now.” She hung up the receiver, pulled off her coveralls, and headed for the door.
*
Twenty miles south of Kyle’s coastal community, Anne pulled the jeep out onto the highway and reached for Caroline’s hand. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
“So am I, babe.” Caroline squeezed Anne’s fingers lightly and smiled over at her. “I missed you.”
“Oh yeah?” Anne deftly negotiated the heavy expressway traffic, smiling softly.
“Mm-hmm.” Caroline’s voice was a low purr. “Your sparkling conversation, your great dinners, your wonderful backrubs, and...”
Anne spared her lover a quick glance and a raised eyebrow. “And?”
“And your tender services.”
“Let’s talk about that some more,” Anne said lightly as she drove off the exit ramp and into their neighborhood.
“I’ve got a better idea.” Caroline stretched across the gap between their seats and rested her hand on the inside of Anne’s blue-jeaned thigh.
Anne looked down, then quickly back to the road. A flush rose to her neck. “What idea would that be?”
Caroline smiled. “Let’s not talk at all.”
Silently, Anne nodded, pulled into a parking space in front of their apartment building, and switched off the ignition. Then they walked to the rear of the vehicle, grabbed a suitcase each, and carried them inside.
“I’m going to take a shower,” Caroline announced quietly as she dropped her suitcase just inside the bedroom door. She turned to Anne, who stood just behind her. Deliberately keeping her eyes on her lover’s, Caroline unbuttoned the top button on the faded blue-checked shirt, brushed her hand beneath the soft material, and slowly caressed Anne’s breast. The corner of Caroline’s mouth lifted in satisfaction as she saw Anne’s sea green irises flicker and dilate. She rubbed her fingers over Anne’s nipple until it hardened, then withdrew her hand. As she walked away, she murmured, “Why don’t you get ready, too.”
Anne took a long shuddering breath, then went directly to the kitchen. She removed the bottle of champagne she had placed in the refrigerator that morning and opened it. Listening to the shower running in the other room, she arranged cheese, crackers, and fruit on a plate, poured champagne into iced glasses, and placed everything on a tray. Then, the pulse of excitement in the pit of her stomach beating faster with each measured movement, she carefully folded linen napkins, slid them into small silver rings, and completed the arrangement with tall, thin candles. Finished, she carried the tray to the bedside table in their room and sat down on the edge of the bed to remove her boots.
“The shirt can go, too,” Caroline remarked softly as she walked in with a towel draped around her body and knotted just above her breasts. “Leave your jeans on.”
Anne stood, unbuttoned her shirt, and stripped it from her chest to expose her soft, pale breasts. Caroline crossed the room to her, leaned down, and gently kissed each nipple. Then she pulled off the towel, handed it to Anne, and turned her back. “Don’t hurry.”
Slowly, meticulously, Anne dried Caroline’s back, gently rubbing the plush cotton over the curve of her buttocks and down the length of each leg. Then she made the leisurely trip back up, catching each lingering bead of moisture on the inside of Caroline’s thighs with the towel. Finished, she simply stood still and waited. When Caroline pivoted to face her, Anne lifted her gaze and, finding her lover’s eyes hazy and heavy-lidded, she swallowed a small groan.
Caroline’s lips parted into a lazy smile, and she took a long, languorous breath. “You may finish.”
Wo
rdlessly, Anne lovingly traced each inch of her lover’s body, her hands trembling beneath the towel with the need to feel the warm skin. Stomach tight with want, she folded the square of cotton neatly and placed it on a chair.
“Why don’t you pull the drapes.” Caroline stretched out on the satin comforter covering their bed and reached for a glass of champagne. She sipped slowly, her gaze traveling appreciatively over Anne’s body. “And light the candles.”
Tasks completed, Anne looked at her questioningly.
“Would you like some of this very nice champagne?”
Anne nodded, not moving.
Caroline patted the bed by her knee. “Let’s see if you can earn it.”
As Anne sat, her eyes fixed on Caroline, Caroline dipped a finger into the iced wine, then touched the glistening golden drop to her left nipple.
“Mmm,” Caroline sighed, idly rolling the swiftly firming nub between her fingers. As she repeated the process on her other breast, she watched Anne’s breathing speed up and saw her shift restlessly on the bed. She wanted to tease her, to make her break the silence, but she wasn’t sure how long she could wait. They’d been apart six weeks, and she was dying to feel Anne’s clever mouth on her achingly swollen flesh. Struggling to keep her expression neutral, she ran her fingers down her abdomen, then parted her legs a fraction.
Anne was about to beg. Watching Caroline flick a fingertip over her clitoris and seeing her lover’s hips jump at the touch that wasn’t hers, she had to bite down on her lower lip to stifle a cry of protest. Unconsciously, she fisted a fold of satin and twisted it urgently. The blood pounded so fiercely in her head, her vision dimmed.
“Are you thirsty, baby?” Caroline asked, her husky voice thick with need.
“Oh God, yes.”
Caroline touched a passion-scented finger to Anne’s lips. “Be good.”
Anne carefully stretched out on the bed between Caroline’s parted legs, resting her face softly against the inner curve of Caroline’s thigh. With one hand, she reached up to cradle Caroline’s breast. When she heard Caroline moan, she involuntarily pressed her hips hard against the mattress.
“I said be good,” Caroline chastised with a faint laugh. Then she laced her fingers through the curls on top of her lover’s head and guided her face forward. As Anne kissed her softly, Caroline closed her eyes and took another sip of the cool, bubbly liquid. Yes, it’s very good to be home.
*
Kyle turned her motorcycle up the tree-lined drive that led to a contemporary wood and glass structure nestled at the top of a knoll. The house commanded a view of the ocean in the distance while blending imperceptibly into the hillside where it stood. She walked around the side of the house to the redwood deck in the rear. Mounting the steps to the raised platform, she found her friend stretched out on a recliner in the sun. She shook her head at the almost too thin brunette in tight black Capri slacks and white scoop-necked lycra top designed to outline her full breasts to perfection.
“Aren’t you worried about freezing those gorgeous tits off?”
“I never realized you noticed them,” her friend said piquishly, shading her eyes with one well-manicured hand. “Could you pour me some more wine?”
“Sure.” Kyle grinned. The wine bottle stood chilling in a gold-plated bucket, and an empty cut crystal glass stood beside it on the tray. She refilled the half-empty glass by Nancy’s chair and then poured one for herself. “And of course I noticed. Just because I haven’t drooled on them—”
“I hate that you have scruples,” Nancy complained. “Just because I’m straight—”
“And married, don’t forget,” Kyle pointed out as she settled into the adjoining recliner.
“I don’t see why either of those little details should be a deal breaker.”
“No foolin’.” Kyle snorted. “Then let’s just say I love you, I value your friendship, and I’m content to lust after you from afar. End of story.”
“Liar.” Nancy grinned, then fixed Kyle with a probing look. “So, where were you last night?”
Kyle stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“I called the house at eight this morning—I know you never sleep late. And no one answered. Therefore, you must have been out somewhere last night.”
“How do you know I didn’t get up early and leave this morning?”
“Kyle.”
“God, you’re fun to tease.” Laughing, Kyle relented. “All right. I spent the night in the city.”
“Oh?” Nancy inquired, arching her neatly contoured brows as she sat up a little straighter. “A little wanderlust?”
“Is it all right if I go out once in a while, Nance?” Kyle asked sharply, suddenly not certain she wanted to talk about her evening.
“Of course.” Nancy ignored Kyle’s warning tone and her sudden frown. She’d known Kyle too long to be worried about her quick temper. She flashed hot and burned fast and she never held a grudge. “I’m always trying to get you to go out.”
“You mean you’re always trying to fix me up with someone.” Kyle shifted, irritated, and leaned over to put her glass down on the deck. She wasn’t really interested in drinking.
“Well, what’s wrong with that?” Nancy feigned a hurt look and reached for a cigarette. She looked expectantly at Kyle, who reached into her pocket on cue and pulled out her lighter.
“Don’t be dense, Nancy.” Kyle leaned forward and touched the flame to her friend’s cigarette, catching the twinkle in her eyes. She shook her head when Nancy held out her slim gold cigarette case to Kyle. “Trying to quit. As to you fixing me up—first of all, I can get my own dates. Secondly, half the time the people you’re trying to fix me up with are men.”
“So?” Nancy drew deeply on her cigarette and looked out over the two acres of her prime coastal property. “Men aren’t all that bad, you know.”
“Nance, we’ve been having this conversation since our freshman year in college.” Kyle sighed. “I never said men were bad—I just don’t feel the same way you do about them.”
“I can remember when you didn’t mind sleeping with them.”
“You have a long memory, then.” Kyle could tell her old friend was in a mood to bait her. Whenever the subject of Kyle’s sexual preferences came up, they went through the same arguments. Nancy argued that Kyle’s choice of partners was limiting, but Kyle was never sure who Nancy thought was limited by them—Kyle or herself. “You know it has nothing to do with sleeping with men or not. It’s that I prefer women. There is a very real difference. Women are not substitutes, alternatives, or second choices for me. They’re—”
“A positive first choice,” Nancy finished for her. “Did you read that somewhere, or are you writing propaganda for all the lesbian groups in the area?”
“Are you trying to piss me off? Because it’s working.”
“Oh, all right,” her friend replied contritely. “I know, I know. It’s important to you—that distinction. I just don’t see why you have to be so hard-line about this gay thing. You could settle down with some nice, unassuming guy, get a few of the advantages it would bring, and have a lover on the side.”
Kyle tried for the hundredth time to explain. “I wouldn’t want to live with someone I didn’t love. If it ever happened, I’d want that person to be the only one. And I don’t intend to hide who I am.”
“Isn’t that a little unrealistic? After all, people aren’t perfect, you know. No one person would ever be enough.”
“I’m not you, Nance.” Kyle knew that her friend had affairs outside her marriage, and she also knew that Nancy’s husband, Roger, was aware of them. Roger and Nancy had agreed years ago that both were free to explore as long as they weren’t serious about anyone. It seemed to work well for them, and Kyle respected that. She shook her head stubbornly. “It’s not right for me.”
“Oh, Kyle,” Nance said in exasperation. “You’re impossibly romantic.”
“No, I’m not.” Kyle smiled and refilled Nancy’s glass.
“Do you think you’re going to find the woman of your dreams in those bars you go to when you can’t stand the silence of your own home any longer?”
“It’s not quite as easy for me to meet people as it is for you, you know.” Anger flashed in Kyle’s eyes. Her friend was getting a little too close to the quick today, of all days. “I can’t just go to some respectable society function and pick someone up.”
“Touché,” Nancy replied softly. She leaned back in her lounge chair and sipped her wine. “All right. So did you meet someone?”
“Yes.”
“Is it any different this time than all the other times?” Nancy knew she was pushing Kyle’s limits, but she didn’t care. She had watched Kyle struggle with her loneliness for years, and she truly wanted to see her friend find some kind of happiness. Maybe she wanted Kyle to be happy because she couldn’t seem to find any satisfaction in her own life. “Did you find someone you can stand to be with the next day?”
“Can you always stand them the next day?” Kyle retaliated.
“Usually I don’t have to worry about it.” Nancy grimaced. “They have to go home to their wives. Besides, I asked you first.”
“The wine is gone.”
“In the kitchen. I put more on ice.” Nancy followed her friend’s muscular form into the house, noting with a practiced eye the powerful but graceful way she moved. She thought about how Kyle’s body would feel on top of hers, and she knew she would like it. She also knew Kyle would never consider such a thing with her. Roger and Kyle were friends, and Kyle, unfortunately, was a woman of integrity.
Kyle returned carrying a fresh bottle of chilled white wine. She removed the cork, filled Nancy’s glass and half of her own, then leaned back against the railing in the sun, her ankles crossed in front of her.
“Nancy,” she said seriously, “why are you always going on at me about this? I don’t bother you about your life, do I?”
“Why should you? I have a great home, plenty of security, all the money I need, and a husband who doesn’t mind my...ah...flirtations.”