"This area is gorgeous," Melissa said. "The cabin is spectacular, too. You'll definitely have to come visit."
Sarah sternly told Fate to be quiet and to please stop Romance from singing all the verses of "I Think I Love You." Nauseating song.
They chatted about the passing scenery and their mutual love of Washington State. In no time at all, Sarah pulled into her driveway and opened the garage door with the remote. She suddenly felt nervous about showing Melissa the house. She was definitely a decadent capitalist, but she did try to do her part in the world — she supported planting trees and ending clear-cutting, preserving the old growth forests that were left, and she'd lent money to the Seattle Community Loan Fund. The house she'd bought, however, didn't really reflect her greener instincts. She'd bought it solely for the view of Mt. Snoqualmie from the living room and a backyard that was narrow but long.
"What a beautiful house," Melissa said. "Wow." She stopped at the entrance to the living room. At the far end the 6,300-foot mountain was framed in an uncurtained window. The near western face was granite interspersed with evergreens; snow still clung to the northern face. The upper twenty percent of the mountain was ringed with haze and fog, defying the otherwise brilliant blue skies.
It was mystical and pure, Sarah thought, and the long, populated valley between her and the mountain mattered not at all.
"How romantic," Melissa said. "It's very inspiring."
"I think so," Sarah said. When she first moved in she'd spent hours shooting in the backyard. The mountain in the backdrop had always put her in the mood of Robin Hood or her Grannie's legends of Welsh archers who had turned away Norman invaders from the foot of Eyri. She realized she hadn't been in the backyard since early spring, when she'd dug a surprise snowfall out from around the less hardy plants. A gardening service kept the yard in good condition and she'd been snowed under at work. Her shoulder muscles twinged and she knew she'd pay for it the next time she drew a bow.
"What are you thinking," Melissa asked. "I can't read you sometimes."
Sarah picked up Melissa's suitcase and said, "I'm thinking it's time to show you the bedroom."
Showing Melissa the bedroom took several hours— delightful and passionate hours that wiped away the last of Sarah's anxiety that what she and Melissa had discovered in Louisville couldn't happen at home. It happened.
"Wonderful," is what Sarah whispered to Melissa as they lay side by side.
"Oh yeah," Melissa said emphatically. "Wonderful hardly seems adequate."
"How about some dinner? I laid in a supply of Chinese food so we wouldn't have to go out tonight. I'm not much of a cook. I mean, I can cook, but I don't have the time to do it properly. I know how to can apples in a thunderstorm but it takes preparation."
"A useful skill," Melissa said, tracing Sarah's shoulder with one lazy finger. "Being a vegetarian, I do cook for myself a lot. Living in a remote place makes me grateful for anyone else's cooking, and restaurants. But at least living right on the Sound I get seafood that is absolutely fresh."
"Well, tonight I have mu shu vegetables, pineapple shrimp and hot and sour soup—without meat."
"Sounds delicious and I'm starved," Melissa said.
After dinner Sarah again felt awkward. In Louisville they'd never wondered what to do with their evenings. They had made love until they were worn out, slept, ate, went to workshops late and left them early, then made love again. Now that they didn't have to make the most of every moment, suggesting they go back to bed seemed crass, though several influential parts of her body didn't agree with that assessment. "Would you like to watch a movie? I've got quite a collection."
"Sounds great," Melissa said. She turned suddenly. "You're nervous. Don't be. You don't have to play hostess."
"I can't help it." How could she say that she was afraid something would go wrong? That she was afraid they would end up indifferent to each other or discover an irreconcilable difference? She didn't want to deal with all the implications of her fears — they told her she was more attracted to Melissa than ever.
"Well, I'll have to put you at your ease, somehow," Melissa said, taking Sarah's hand. She trailed the tip of her tongue over Sarah's wrist.
"That hardly helps my composure," Sarah said, aware that the robe she had slipped on was slipping off again.
Melissa let her go and wrapped Sarah's robe tightly around her. "Let's watch a movie."
I feel like a kid, Sarah thought. She watched Melissa looking through the video collection and wondered how she, so in control of her life, with a good head on her shoulders (Grannie MacNeil's highest praise), could be reduced to pudding by a woman at least six years her junior who had lived in a somewhat sheltered, academic world. Someone who looked at Sarah as if she knew her, right down to the best and worst.
"What are you doing with all these Die Hard movies?" Melissa's nose was wrinkled in distaste.
"I like them," Sarah admitted sheepishly. "I know they're macho and violent. I edited out the worst of the blood and guts, but I like the writing and the production."
"But Bruce Willis is a Republican."
"Well, that was enough to turn me off Schwarzenegger movies, except for the Terminator ones. Him I can't stand. And the writing isn't very good. Whereas the Die Hard movies, well, I like them. What can I say?"
Melissa pursed her lips and gave Sarah a smile that meant she believed she could change Sarah's mind about them. But she merely held out a cassette for inspection. "I hate to admit this, but I've never seen it."
Sarah grinned, glad that Melissa had missed her pointless yet complete collection of bad science fiction films a la Mystery Science Theater. "I'd love to see it again."
They settled down with Melissa's head on Sarah's lap to watch Desert Hearts.
"I finally understand," Melissa said, when Kay miscounted her change while Patsy Cline crooned "Sweet Dreams."
"Understand what?"
"Why women love this movie." She smiled up at Sarah. "The writing's good and the production is terrific."
"The novel was different, but still, the movie does it justice. There were men involved, I do believe."
Melissa stuck out her tongue at Sarah. "But we'll never know what it could have been if they hadn't been involved."
"I like it just the way it is," Sarah said.
Melissa was silent until the middle of what was, in Sarah's opinion, the hottest sex scene ever filmed between women. "They can't possibly be having orgasms," Melissa said.
"Who cares," Sarah breathed. She ignored Melissa's knowing smile, but she didn't object when Melissa wangled a hand under her robe.
"You have a point," Melissa said. She nibbled at Sarah's thigh through her robe.
What with the distractions that followed they had to watch the end of the movie again the next morning.
"Look at the roses in those cheeks!" Debra stood accusingly in Sarah's office doorway. "Now spill your guts, or else."
"What do you want to know?" Sarah exuded the patient manner she knew would madden Debra even more.
"Everything, you nit." She sat down in the guest chair with the air of someone who wasn't moving for as long as it took. "Where did you meet?"
"At the conference."
"Another patent attorney?" Debra's eyes were round.
"No. She was at a different conference."
"You're being a pain. Are we friends? Do I have to cross-examine you?"
Sarah sighed in as long-suffering a manner as she could, but she knew the tiny quirk to her lips betrayed her. "Okay. She was at a lesbian writer's conference."
"Oh, my God. Talk about luck."
"We hit it off from the start, especially after she found out I wasn't straight."
"Was this before or after you... umm ...hit it off?"
"After. It was a little misunderstanding. She forgave me."
"I know I'm missing the whole story," Debra said. "But anyway, so where does she live? Is she famous?" Debra gasped. "It's that writer who live
s on Vashon Island, the famous one, that's why you didn't want to say who and had to meet the ferry. But I thought she had a girlfriend she'd been with for years. You're a home wrecker!"
"Debra, I am not a home wrecker. Her name is Melissa Hartley and she's not famous yet and I think I'm in way over my head, okay? Is that enough detail?"
Debra looked a little disappointed. "Over your head? What do you mean?"
"It took me eighteen months to even feel like I could live with Ellen, and I loved her a lot. A part of me still does. But I wanted to ask Melissa this weekend. I haven't even known her for a month. I've been thinking about it all morning."
"Wow. You are completely bonker kitties over her."
Sarah laughed. "What the hell are bonker kitties?"
"Don't change the subject. Why can't I meet someone and fall in love?"
"I think that's the easy part," Sarah said. "It's what comes next that's the hardest."
Debra looked confused.
"Happily ever after. Monogamy."
"Nobody has happily ever after anymore. Except maybe Joanne Woodward and Paul Newman. Besides, monogamy is patriarchal."
"A wise lesbian, I don't remember which one, once said that it was the have-nots who are always in favor of redistribution."
"Oh, I see. If I ever had a serious relationship I'd turn monogamous? Thanks very much." Debra sniffed. "You think I have no courage of my convictions."
"I didn't mean it that way," Sarah began, but Debra stood up with a flounce.
"See if I care if she breaks your heart. You want something that's just not going to happen and make fun of me because I accept the world as it is." With a loud "hmph" she departed in high dudgeon.
"Shit," Sarah said. Working with Debra was like having a thoroughbred poodle around. One misstep and it would take two lunches and a box of See's Candy to repair the damage.
She tried to concentrate on her work, but reading the detailed specs for their latest operating system product was giving her a headache. Usually she could plow right into it and lift her head six hours later. Where was her focus?
In a little cabin right on Puget Sound, she thought. After she'd gotten over her jitters, she and Melissa had settled in for a lovely weekend. She rented them bicycles in Elizabeth Park and then they wended their way through Pike's Market. They found a lovely lesbian-run bistro near the university for dinner, then slept late on Sunday. They read the paper, devoured smoked salmon with bagels and cream cheese, then walked down the hill to the market for fresh salads to take on a picnic. After the picnic, Melissa admitted that it would really help if she could wash her clothes from the weekend since laundry facilities were rather primitive at her cabin. Having no clothes to wear, not even undies, Melissa complained of vulnerability, so Sarah had joined her in nakedness and before she knew it they were making love on the living room floor, as eager and as breathless as the first time.
Staring at her work wasn't accomplishing anything. She went out for lunch, something she rarely did, and tried to put Melissa out of her mind. She was still behind from having been at the conference and would only be able to take Friday off if she managed to get through some work. Granted, she had no one looking over her shoulder, but she knew what her deadlines were and knew herself well enough to know what she had to do when in order to meet them. Her boss wouldn't care if she took a month off as long as her deadlines for completing the patent applications were met. It was a plain and simple management relationship and she liked it. If she wanted to play this weekend with an extra day at the cabin with Melissa, she had to concentrate.
It was hard to concentrate when she got back to work, but she managed. She read for several hours, taking notes on her laptop of specific language she wanted to cite from the detailed specs. She finally got up for a cup of the vile coffee from the office machine, then moseyed around to Debra's office to leave the Snickers bar she'd bought at lunch. As usual, Debra was on the speakerphone—every litigation attorney Sarah knew had been born with a speakerphone — and mouthed, "You're still in trouble," as Sarah slipped the bar onto the corner of Debra's desk.
Back in her chair, she settled down for the long haul and managed to finish one set of specs before her tiny anniversary clock chimed nine o'clock. She locked up her notebook and laptop in the fireproof cabinet designed for them and drove home feeling relieved not to have lost the day in dreams about Melissa.
She didn't really think about Melissa until after she'd ordered her favorite fast food late-night snack. A burger and the salad leftovers at home would be perfect. She was waiting for her burger at the drive-thru when she remembered Melissa asking her what she had meant, their first time together, when she had said she was usually "in charge" in bed.
The memory made her weak all over. She'd straddled Melissa's waist and pinned her wrists to the floor with her hands. She kissed Melissa slowly and deeply, then said in her ear, "Because I was an athlete the non-athletic women expected me to be like this. On top. I didn't mind." She bit Melissa's earlobe, then trailed the tip of her tongue down Melissa's collarbone.
"I can't say I mind, either," Melissa said. "I just didn't see you as butch."
Sarah stopped what she was doing and looked down into Melissa's eyes. "I've never seen myself as butch either. I'm not sure I equate sexual aggressiveness with being butch. Or femme. But it's what some of my lovers expected."
"I've never been enamored of either role myself," Melissa said. "But what about —" She slipped her wrists out of Sarah's grasp and Sarah found herself on her back, with Melissa straddling her. "Top and bottom?"
Sarah started to smile, then caught her breath as Melissa's tongue grazed one nipple. "I'm okay there until pain is involved. I'm not into pain. That's why I was a lousy long distance runner."
"So far we're batting a thousand," Melissa said. "I like this — being in control for a while, doing what I want and guessing what you want. And I do like it when you're in control. When you're aggressive."
"Well," Sarah had managed, fighting the breathlessness she was beginning to associate with her want of Melissa, "now that we've decided we're sexually compatible, could we get on with it?"
"Certainly," Melissa had said, leaning down to kiss Sarah. She didn't release Sarah's wrists until she needed her hands to tease Sarah's breasts. She had stretched out next to Sarah so Sarah could turn her head and take one breast into her mouth.
Something white banged into the car window and Sarah yelped in fright. Her foot slipped off the brake and the car shot forward a few feet.
"Lady, your burger," the clerk snapped when Sarah rolled down her window.
"Sorry," she mumbled, and she backed up to take the bag.
No matter how you slice it, she thought as she drove away, she had it bad for Melissa. It could even be terminal.
3
A time to embrace... (Ecclesiastes 3:6)
The ferry ride from Seattle to Bremerton took only 35 minutes and saved her over two hours of driving. Sarah spent the sailing in the bow of the ferry, letting the sea air whip through her hair and blow away all the cobwebs of the work week. She had spent every day with her nose in the specs and every night wondering what Melissa was doing, if Melissa was thinking about her as well. Last night she'd stayed at work until midnight, then left with "Walking on Sunshine" playing in her head.
The late-summer air was moist from this morning's rain and her cheeks stung from the sea wind. She watched the approaching shoreline, feeling as if she were watching her future approach, little by little, but was still too far away to make out anything specific.
She'd broken down last night and called Melissa, ostensibly to ask if she should bring her car. Melissa admitted her own transportation was not nearly as reliable as Sarah's, so the Jaguar was down in the ferry's belly. They had chatted in fits and starts and all of Sarah's fears returned when making conversation turned difficult. But Melissa said into one silence, "I'm not that great on the phone. I keep thinking about what I'd rather be doing, that i
s, if you were here."
"Me, too," Sarah said. "I mean thinking about what I'd rather be doing. I've been thinking about it a lot."
Melissa laughed easily and then they had hung up. Sarah felt much better but was still a little nervous.
Focus, she told herself. She couldn't hit the broadside of a barn in this mental state. Focus. Sight. Fly. She repeated the mantra of her archery, but it didn't help as much as it should have. Focus — she thought of Melissa. Focused on the sensation of her hands filled with Melissa's hair. Sight — not a bulls-eye, but Melissa's eyes, inviting, sensuous. Fly — she wanted to be the arrow, soaring across the space between them to bury herself in Melissa's warmth and lovemaking.
Nothing had ever interfered with her ability to concentrate before. Nothing and no one. Her mother had made an embarrassing scene in front of Sarah's teammates just before her first Olympic trials, but once Sarah strung her bow she hadn't thought of her mother until it was all over and she'd made her first Olympic team. Then she had an all-out fight with her that fifteen years later still wasn't repaired. To this day her mother insisted that archery had been a colossal waste of time.
So why did Melissa intrude? God knew the sex was fantastic, the best of her life. But she'd never thought of herself as a wholly sexual being and couldn't believe she'd waited 35 years to find it out. There must be another explanation for her obsession with Melissa, she thought, and the most logical explanation was a four-letter word.
She returned to her car when the ferry docked and drove into the Bremerton outskirts, then turned north on 16, which zipped right along until just outside Poulsbo. Then she drove along a narrow highway through the mixed fir and aspen, following the signs to Suquamish. With Melissa's directions it only took a few more minutes before she was turning into a graveled drive and feeling overwhelmed at the sight of Melissa running from the front door to the car, opening Sarah's door before she'd even fully stopped.
Their embrace was so exuberant that Sarah lost her footing and they both fell laughing onto the soft carpet of pine needles, then lay there panting and still laughing. Sarah thought, it's been a long time since I've felt this alive.
Embrace in Motion Page 4