shadowland

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shadowland Page 7

by Radclyffe


  “I don’t believe for a second that’s all you want. You’re intelligent, talented, warm, and loving. All those nice things you have can’t be enough, or you wouldn’t be sleeping with every horny guy you meet.”

  “I haven’t slept with all of them, Kyle,” Nancy said demurely. “Not yet.”

  Kyle laughed. “Oh hell, I give up.”

  “Good. Now tell me about your latest. Was it any different?”

  “Yes.” For me at least.

  “Well?” Nancy waited expectantly.

  Kyle turned to look down across the bluff to the ocean and was forced to shut her eyes against the brisk wind that brought tears to them. Behind closed lids, she saw Dane’s face. “I went to a leather bar last night.”

  Nancy sat up straight in her chair. “Do you mean an S/M club?”

  Kyle nodded, her back still turned.

  “Really.” Nancy was intrigued. “So, tell me.”

  “I met this woman and I went home with her. A lot happened. I felt differently with her than I’ve ever felt before. I felt things about myself I’ve never felt before.”

  “Did she beat you or something?” Nancy asked in amazement.

  “No, it wasn’t like that.” Kyle turned and regarded Nancy calmly. “It was like being in another world. We were making love, except so much more was happening. I almost didn’t know myself. It was physical, and emotional, and something else, too.”

  “What else?”

  “I don’t know.” Kyle ran a hand through her hair in frustration. “And I don’t know how I’m going to find out.”

  Chapter Six

  Three weeks later

  Kyle put down her stripping knife and sighed.

  “Nance.”

  “Hmm?” Nancy replied absently, her mind on the design she was outlining on the door of an armoire.

  “About that party tonight—”

  “Yes,” Nancy murmured, still engrossed in the stencil.

  “I don’t think I can make it.”

  Nancy looked up quickly. “Bullshit. You just don’t want to.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to.” Well, not totally anyway. “I just don’t feel like meeting a lot of straight doctors.”

  “Well, all those straight doctors have wives, you know. Well, at least the men do.” Nancy waggled her brows and came to stand beside Kyle. “And maybe some of the women, too.”

  “I don’t want to meet somebody’s wife,” Kyle stated with exaggerated emphasis. “I don’t even want to meet the doctors who happen to be women. Roger does know a few female doctors, doesn’t he?”

  “There might be one or two, but I don’t usually notice.” Nancy gave Kyle a beseeching look. “Please come?”

  “Well—”

  “It’s been nearly a month since you went into the city. I know—I’ve checked the calendar. You must be ready for a little diversion by now.”

  “Actually, there was something else I wanted to do tonight,” Kyle replied with uncharacteristic hesitation. “There’s this meeting I read about—kind of a...a discussion group. I thought I might go.”

  “A meeting? Like AA or something?” Nancy sounded horrified.

  “No, nothing like that. Besides, drinking’s never been my problem. I am down to a few cigarettes a day, though, so don’t pick a fight.”

  “Ooh, cranky, are we?” Nancy nudged Kyle’s hip with hers. “So what then—what’s this group about?”

  “It’s about how we use power in our lives.”

  “Power.” Nancy shot her a probing look. “You mean sexual power—the S/M thing again, right?”

  “That’s part of it.” Kyle tried not to sound defensive. Nancy was often a pain in the ass, but Kyle had never known her to be prejudiced about choices that differed from her own.

  “You’re really serious about this thing?” Nancy narrowed her eyes. “I thought maybe you’d gotten it out of your system after that one night. You never said anything else about it.”

  “I’m serious about finding out about it.”

  “Have you seen her again—the woman you spent the night with?”

  Kyle shook her head.

  “You want to?” This time Nancy’s question was gentle. She’d seen a shadow of sadness pass across her friend’s face. She hated it when Kyle hurt.

  “Yeah.” Kyle picked up her knife and turned it aimlessly in her hand. I still think about that night. I still see her. I still feel her.

  “And I suppose calling her and asking for a...date...is out of the question?”

  “I don’t know.” Kyle grimaced. “I’m not sure what’s supposed to come next. But, even if I wanted to call her...I don’t know her last name or her number.”

  “Well,” Nancy remarked with a hint of sarcasm, “I can see you two spent a lot of time talking.”

  “No, we didn’t.” Kyle regarded her without ire. “But we shared a lot.”

  “And you think going to this meeting will help how?”

  “I’m not sure it will.” Kyle shrugged. “But I need some kind of answers, because just wondering about it all the time is making me a little nuts.”

  “Why not just go back to the club and...” Nancy flashed on an image of Kyle in the arms of a mysterious stranger and felt an irrational surge of jealousy. She forced herself to say what she thought Kyle needed to hear. “Well, find her again or someone else to...be with.”

  Because she’s the one I want. Kyle tossed her stripping knife back onto the counter. “I don’t think she’s interested in someone who doesn’t have a clue about what’s going on.”

  Nancy picked up her brush and turned back to her design. “Well, I suppose I’ll have other parties.”

  *

  Dane strode rapidly across the room, her voice tight, her back stiff with the effort to contain her anger. “There is no way, no way, that I’m going to some discussion group tonight.”

  Caroline sighed resignedly and led the dog into the open crate.

  “Why not?”

  Dane’s blue eyes flashed.

  “Because it’s always the same thing. A bunch of intellectuals sitting around discussing the politics of power and what they think about it. It’s always what they think, never what they feel. It’s an academic discourse by people who are afraid to do more than just talk about it. And they always have such a superior attitude about anyone who actually does something to find out what it’s like.”

  “That’s not fair, Dane.” Caroline looked at her friend in surprise. The vehemence in her voice was startling. Dane was usually so cool. “Anne and I are going—and we do more than talk about it.”

  “Good. You can be the guinea pigs, then.”

  “How do you expect women to discover how they feel if no one who knows something will get it out in the open? It’s like refusing to talk to heterosexuals about being gay.” Caroline crossed her arms and sat down on the corner of the desk. “Ignorance doesn’t go away by itself.”

  “Let them come to the club, then. Let them go to a scene party,” Dane persisted. Let them take a chance.

  “Maybe they’re afraid to,” Caroline said quietly. “It’s as threatening for some people to go to a leather bar or a scene party as it once was to go to a regular gay club. Just because you had to find out by yourself doesn’t mean it still has to be that way. Maybe you can help other women understand.”

  Dane stared at Caroline stubbornly. “I don’t feel like telling a bunch of strangers what I do in bed.”

  “You don’t have to, and you know it.” Caroline couldn’t hide her exasperation. “But you could talk about why you do what you do in bed. Come on, Dane, what are you afraid of?”

  “I’m not the one who’s afraid.”

  “Then why not come?”

  “Christ, you’re persistent.”

  “How do you think I got Anne away from you?”

  Dane grinned reluctantly. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

  Caroline smiled at the glimmer of progress. “Okay.”
<
br />   *

  Kyle checked her reflection in the mirror for the tenth time, astonished at how nervous she was about going to this meeting. It wasn’t as if it was exactly a foreign experience. She’d been a member of the gay and lesbian group on campus when she was in college, and even after that, she’d spent some time at the gay and lesbian community center. It had been fun tossing ideas around and being part of the social community. Tonight felt different, though. She was a newcomer and not at all certain what to expect. Still, she wanted to go, needed to know more about her own feelings and if other women shared them.

  The memory of that single night with Dane haunted her in a way no other encounter ever had. She thought about the way she’d lain helplessly bound, her body on fire, waiting, praying, for Dane to set her free. She touched herself and imagined Dane’s hands teasing her until she was wet and hard and ready to explode. When she ached to come, she heard Dane’s voice tell her to wait, and she tried to recapture that sharp edge of brilliant desire. Most often she failed, although her climax was often so powerful it left her weak and trembling. Yeah, she’s provided more fantasy material than anyone else I’ve ever known. But I can only get off thinking about her for so long.

  Despite the profound pleasure she had experienced with Dane, Kyle had to admit that the drive to explore those new feelings went beyond her desire for sex. She felt that an essential part of herself needed to be expressed...and that perhaps sex was just one means of communicating something far more fundamental than just physical pleasure. She regarded the woman in the black jeans and leather vest staring out at her from the glass. The face and the body were familiar. Tonight, however, she wasn’t entirely certain she knew who looked back.

  But she intended to find out.

  *

  When she pulled her bike between several cars at the address she’d noted for the meeting, she realized it was a private residence. She hadn’t expected the meeting to be in someone’s apartment. That seemed far too personal and a great deal more intimate than she wanted to get. She’d been hoping to find a back seat somewhere and just listen. She hesitated at the bottom of the steep wooden staircase that led up a shrub-covered slope to the slightly ramshackle house.

  Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.

  A younger woman wearing a tight black T-shirt, denim jacket, and blue jeans ripped in decidedly provocative locations passed Kyle and started up the steps. She stopped, turned back, and gave Kyle a friendly smile.

  “You coming up?”

  “Uh...I don’t know. I saw this notice about a discussion group.”

  “Right,” the woman said, extending her hand. “I’m Joan. This is the place.”

  Kyle shook the petite blond’s hand. She was appealingly boyish-looking with short spiked hair and red high-tops. A thin braided leather bracelet encircled the wrist she thrust forward.

  “Thanks, I’m Kyle.” When she hesitated the other woman gave her a questioning look. “Uh—you know, I’m not sure I should be here. I mean, I don’t know much about it.”

  “That’s the idea.” Joan grinned while taking in Kyle’s heavy black motorcycle boots, black jeans, and leather jacket. “No one will know you don’t know anything, and no one will ask you anything. You can talk or just listen. There won’t be a test or anything.”

  Kyle laughed and willed herself to relax. “Okay, I’m with you then.”

  She followed Joan to a second floor apartment where they were admitted by a well-muscled Asian woman with a warm smile, a hearty welcome, and a bone-crushing handshake. From there, Kyle found herself in a comfortably appointed living room where five or six women were already seated. To Kyle’s relief, they all looked like regular dykes to her, the kind of women she might meet in any club. Several glanced at her and nodded before returning to their conversations.

  Finding a place on the floor, Kyle rested her back against the arm of a couch that looked like it had seen better days and surreptitiously took stock of the room’s other occupants. The women ranged in age from early twenties on up. Denim, boots, and leather were plentiful, but a couple of women wore skin-tight tops displaying more than a tease of cleavage, even tighter hip huggers showing plenty of enticing skin, make-up, and decidedly feminine jewelry. Kyle caught one, a pretty brunette wearing a narrow leather strap on her left wrist, eyeing her with frank speculation. When Kyle met her gaze, the woman raised an eyebrow and gave Kyle a sultry look that had her blood racing. The response was totally involuntary, but for one brief instant, Kyle pictured herself on her knees in front of the slender brunette and imagined the glint of candlelight reflecting off the handcuffs that bound her own wrists. Jesus Christ!

  Quickly, Kyle averted her gaze, but she swore she heard a soft, throaty laugh. To her relief, a woman entered carrying a six-pack of beer and another of soda.

  “Hi, everyone. I’m Dana, for those who don’t know me. Help yourself to the drinks.” She passed the cans around and sat next to Joan on another sofa across from Kyle. “And for the benefit of those who haven’t been to one of these meetings...a group of us have been getting together the last six months or so to talk about how we perceive power in our lives.”

  “You mean S/M, don’t you?” one woman asked.

  Dana nodded. “Basically, yes. Except that term is sort of limiting, because not everyone has the same idea about its definition. Some take it to mean BD—bondage and discipline, some see it in terms of rigid roles...master/slave or dominant and submissive. Some of us just like to explore it in sex play. There are lots of different ways for power to be expressed.” She laughed. “Which is as good a place to start as any, I guess. Before we talk about specifics, I think we should find out how we see the central issue—power.”

  Kyle was surprised to hear the diverse opinions of the group members regarding the role of power in relationships. At first it seemed as if each woman had a different idea, but as time went on, it became clear that everyone agreed on one thing: all relationships were based on some kind of exchange of power, no matter whether it was defined that way or not. Sometimes it was very subtle, like who made the first move in lovemaking, while other times, it was more obviously based on role playing.

  As the conversation flowed back and forth, Kyle was struck by the wide range of concepts and apparent experience. It was obvious that for some women the issue was sociological or political, and for others much more a lifestyle or sexual issue. Two women across from her, obviously a couple, talked easily about their own relationship and how they perceived the exchange of power in their lives. They admitted that it was an important part of their sexual expression.

  Kyle listened with interest as the older of the two, an attractive, athletic-looking woman in worn chinos and a frayed cotton shirt, responded to the claim that too much emphasis was placed on sex by power-oriented women.

  “I think that sexual feelings are a much bigger part of any relationship than most of us care to admit,” Caroline suggested calmly. “It’s not just how you make love, or how often, but how you react physically to everything around you. Appreciating the way your lover looks in leather is sexual. Fantasizing about strangers in the subway is sexual. Feeling strong and confident when you wear boots is sexual. Those feelings are there all day long; it’s just that we don’t call them sexual.”

  “Are you saying that women aren’t sexual enough?” Kyle asked, intrigued by the woman’s train of thought.

  Caroline smiled at Kyle, who had been silent up until then.

  “I’m saying that women are much more sexual than we appreciate, because we put too much emphasis on definitions. And our definition of sexual is very narrow...most of the time we think of it only as what we do in bed.” Caroline shrugged. “I think we are sexual, and sexually powerful, all the time.”

  Other women picked up the thread, and Kyle soon discovered she had more questions than answers. Nevertheless, as she listened, she felt she was making contact with an important part of herself. She was surprised and disappointed when Dana a
nnounced that it was after eleven and time to wrap it up. The date and place of the next meeting was decided, and Kyle made a mental note of the information. Once outside, she found herself on the stairs just behind the couple who had been across from her all evening.

  “Excuse me,” she said, catching up to them on the street. “I really liked what you two had to say tonight.”

  “Thanks. It was a really good group.” Anne smiled. “I’m Anne, by the way. And this is Caroline.”

  “Kyle Kirk.” Kyle stopped in front of her motorcycle, and they stopped with her, apparently in no great hurry. “I’m glad that women want to get together and talk about it.”

  Caroline laughed and slid her arm around Anne’s waist. “Some of us even like to do more than talk.”

  “Yeah.” Kyle grinned. “I got that impression.”

  “We’re going to unwind at the club for a while. You?” Caroline asked.

  “I was thinking about it,” Kyle replied. Then, because she felt comfortable with them after listening to them talk about their lives, she added, “I’m still not sure what this all means for me.”

  “There’s no hurry, you know,” Caroline said kindly.

  Kyle heard Dane’s deep voice. I’m not rushing you. She shrugged. “Maybe not. But the way I feel sometimes...” She shook her head sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m probably not making any sense.”

  “As a matter of fact,” Anne said with surprising gentleness, “you are. I remember how confused I was for a while.”

  Caroline gave her lover a quizzical look. “And it’s just a club. Besides, the only way to find out about anything is to go find out.”

  “Don’t get her started,” Anne said with obvious affection as she gave Caroline a quick hug. “Really, though, Kyle, you can meet us there. We can all have a beer or something.”

  “I don’t have anywhere else to be,” Kyle admitted. She made a decision and nodded. “I’d like that. I’ll see you there—Leathers, right?”

  Surprised that Kyle knew the club, Caroline nodded. Not such a novice then. She took Anne’s hand. “Yep. See you soon.”

 

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