by Roxy Harte
Can I do this?
Can I really do this?
A week later, I am still moping and worried that I may not be able to have this baby naturally. Even if Dr. Abrams bypasses my fallopian tubes, and even if we wait long enough to make sure there is only one baby…and that it is not genetically faulty…what if the egg doesn’t fall in love with my uterus like he said? I fill the scripts and start taking the dosages, but also start researching adoption options because I really can’t face complete failure.
When the doorbells rings, all baby thoughts stall. I answer the door and Geri is on the other side of the threshold. I’m struck speechless for several seconds while she stutters over excuses and apologies for not calling or coming over sooner. I save both of us by saying, “I’ve been out of town too. Please, come in.” I look in the hall mirror and really wish I hadn’t. Ponytail, no makeup, ancient shorts and an old T-shirt that doesn’t color coordinate. Oh hell.
“Where did you go?” she asks.
“Cabo San Lucas.” I lead her into the living room and she sits on the sofa. I take the chair opposite, pulling my feet up into the seat. “I have a villa there so that when I need to escape the crazy or do some serious thinking, I can get away.”
“Cool. Wow.” She sounds surprised. “I rarely ever get south of the border. My adventures always seem to take me north. Maybe you can take me sometime. I’d be up for some fun in the sun and there are some amazing eco-tourism opportunities there. ”
“Really?” I smile. Really? I feel like I’m dreaming. “I’d love that.”
“Me too.” She pauses, waiting for me to say something, but now I really don’t know what to say because what I planned to say—I’m really glad you are here because I really like you—sounds so high school and the follow up line to that—I want to get to know you better—just seems so ridiculous. Then there is also the paranoia that she hasn’t called because I’m a porn star and because she is too disgusted by that fact to want to see me again. But she’s here now, so what does that mean? Was I wrong?
“Did you know that there is the potential of spotting over eight-hundred species of birds there?”
I snort. “Really? No, I didn’t know.”
“Sure, they aren’t all permanent residents, but during migratory season, it can get crazy.” She nods, her eyes bright. I love it when she talks about nature, she absolutely glows with enthusiasm. I imagine her in Cabo San Lucas with me, but I don’t see us lounging by the pool or even walking hand in hand down the beach. I see her taking me to all of the wild places, canoeing around waterways or hiking the inland desert, and I’m surprised to realize that it is such an agreeable thought. I’d love to see those places with her. I wish I was brave enough to put it into words.
“I should have tried to call sooner.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered, I’ve been ditching all of my phone calls,” I say, not about to admit that every time the phone rang, I’d wished it was her.
“I still could have called. Maybe you would have listened to the message,” she says, sounding frustrated. “I’m not very good at this.”
“This?”
“Asking for a second date,” she admits, blushing.
Second date? Really? Oh shit. What am I supposed to say to that? “Tell me something first.”
“Okay?” She sounds uncertain.
“Do you have a hard time asking all women for a second date? Or just porn stars?”
She blushes eight shades of pink before admitting, “You’re my first porn star, and to be honest, since Sheila, I haven’t asked anyone on a second date.”
“If we’re being honest, do you think we ever get past the part where I’ve been a porn star for twenty years?” There is a long pause and I regret asking the question. I should have gone with I like you. But just as I get ready to say something else, something even more ridiculous than that, she says, “I admit that it’s going to be tough. I guess I’m just so set in my opinions—”
“Then why did you bother to stop by?” She doesn’t answer, so I keep talking. “Geri, I’m a porn star, soon to be retired, but that’s beside the point. I’ve had lots of men and probably a few women lust after me, maybe even jack off to my videos. That’s honesty. And that’s okay. I can take honesty. All I need to know is are we meeting to end our friendship or to expand on it.”
I hear her breathe out, like she’d been holding it in. “I’m here…”
I watch her face intently, waiting, wondering what the next words will be, but she stands. I think she is leaving but she walks over to me and kneels at my feet. “I’m here because I’ve compared every woman since Sheila to you.”
I look at her standing in my bedroom and it seems almost impossible that she’s here or that, three weeks ago, we’d actually been lovers. I feel shy and uncertain. I really don’t have a clue what to do.
I walk over to stand in front of her and pull at the edge of her T-shirt hem. “I want to see you. I want to see all of you.”
She smiles but it manages to look like a frown on her. “Are you always going to be so difficult?”
“Yes. If wanting to see your beautifully made body as bare as the day you were born is being difficult.”
She sighs, but it sounds like a sigh of defeat to my ears and I tug her shirt over head before she can change her mind. She’s wearing a black half-cami bra that seems very sexy, despite being frill-free and lace free. I run my hands up her flat, smooth stomach before teasing my fingertips along the bottom edge of the fabric…barely lifting, barely touching her breasts beneath the fabric, but it makes her shiver and her response delights me. I pull her bra over her head and she bites her bottom lip. Her breasts are perfect, dark areolas, wide nipples, a bare curve of breast.
I hold her gaze as I rub my hands over her small breasts, loving the way her large, dark nipples feel against my palms. “You are so beautiful.” I kiss her quickly, a quick peck meant to distract her from the fact that my hands have dropped to her waistband. I manage to unbutton the button before she stills my hands and asks, “Aren’t you a little overdressed for this occasion?”
I smile, hoping it looks as naughty as I feel, promising, “As soon as I have you naked, I’ll take off my clothes.” I unzip her pants.
“Have I mentioned that I like to be the dominant one in the relationship?”
“You might have mentioned that.” I swallow hard, looking at her. “Have I mentioned that I’ve never made love to a girl?”
“I seem to remember—”
I interrupt her. “At Maconochie’s? That was you making love to me. Now, it’s my turn to make love to you. And since I’ve never made love to a girl before, I’m just going to treat you like a man. Is that okay with you?”
I think I have her full attention now.
I nuzzle into her neck, kiss her throat. She trembles against me and I cup her face in my hands, giving her my mouth, and she takes it, kissing me full and hard. This role she knows, knows well, and I let her take what she wants from my mouth, kissing me soft then hard, sliding her tongue into my mouth, then pulling, sucking my tongue into her mouth.
I slide my hands down her arms, then hold on to her wrists, pulling her with me until the back of my knees bump the bed. I sit, pulling my mouth from hers. She looks down at me. I let go of her wrists and slide my hands into her jeans from behind, cupping her hips as I brave a look into her face, catching her gaze. Her eyes glow with need and desire and I know it is taking all of her own resolve to keep from pushing me down, to keep from pressing me into the bed.
That is her comfort zone.
For a second, I wonder who was top in her relationship with Sheila. I can’t imagine the woman I met being topped at all, but perhaps she allowed Geri to top her.
She still holds my gaze and I don’t stop looking, especially when I start to slide her jeans over her hips, stopping just below her buttocks. I shift my gaze down because I want to see the reveal. I’ve waited so long for this (at least it feels like eter
nity). I expected boy briefs, don’t ask me why, but I did, and I’m not disappointed to find she is wearing black ones. I run my fingers down the front, feeling her bulge, knowing that she is packing.
She fidgets, whispering my name as I cup her package. I’m nervous and excited, wanting to see the strap-on she hides beneath the briefs.
I know she’s waiting for me to be freaked out, waiting for judgment…waiting nervously…and I wonder if this isn’t partly why she hasn’t called. She fidgets again. I press against it, pushing it into her, feeling the texture of it, not a hard plastic, but surprisingly lifelike. She gasps and I imagine that, by pushing, I am pressing into her clit. I press again and her knees tremble.
“You are so sexy, Geri.”
“You’re killing me, beautiful.”
“Hmmm,” I say, nuzzling my cheek against the warm, soft cotton covering her dildo. I slide my hand into the waistband of her briefs and tug, pulling them only as far down as her jeans, leaving both jeans and briefs tucked just beneath her ass. With my cheek still pressed against the dildo, I rub my hands over her ass, teasing her skin to goose bumps. I pull her hips forward, pressing my cheek harder. She moans, so I take that to mean that whatever I am doing is okay.
I promised to make love to her like she’s a man, and if she were a man, I’d take his penis into my mouth about now. Is that okay? “I want to take your cock in my mouth.”
I look up into her face to see her eyes roll back in her head, before she looks down at me. She swallows hard and doesn’t say anything, but, holding my gaze, she guides my hand to the dildo, which is trapped in place beneath a strap. She lifts and the cock pops free, locked in place and standing ready in her harness. “Condom,” she says, and her voice cracks a little. “Back right pocket.”
I feel around to the folded-down edge of the jeans, trembling myself as my hand finds the pocket and the condom. I hand it to her, not trusting myself at the moment to do it right.
I feel floaty and surreal as I watch her slide the condom over her cyber-skin dildo. I don’t wait, putting the bulbous tip in my mouth as she is still pushing latex. My mouth follows her fingers, drawn down the shaft like a magnet. The condom tastes lightly of strawberry.
I feel the cock slide easily all the way to the back of my throat and bump there. That’s the turn-on for me, feeling the cock on the back of my throat. I try to remember to press into her a little as I play, hoping that her clit is being stimulated too.
It isn’t long before she is pressing my shoulders back, following me down onto the bed. She places her knees on either side of my shoulders and repositions over my mouth. She enters me slow and steady and I feel every tantalizing inch as she slides it deep, filling me tip to base until it rubs the back of my throat again. I think she senses that I like that. Like that a lot. And I moan, encouraging her with the hold I have on her half-bare, half-jean-covered thighs. I guide her along in the gentle rhythm that turns me on as I pull her deeper, deeper, into my throat.
I close my eyes, relaxing completely, giving her permission with the tug of my hands behind her thighs to fuck me. Fuck my mouth. My reward is her gentle thrusts and the sound of both of us moaning.
I slide my hands up her body, feeling the gentle curve at her waist before trailing higher to feel the delicate ripple of her ribcage. She trembles beneath my touch as I tease my fingers slowly back down again. She is so soft, so curvy, so very different than a man. I have no point of reference, other than seeing her thrust, my hands rested on the curve of her hips is the most erotic sight I have ever seen. She pulls back, pulls out, before I really want her to, but her gaze is liquid heat and need and I know that she wants to fuck for real now.
“Lie on your back,” I say. “I want to ride your cock.”
She rolls over, lies down. I crawl between her legs, pulling her jeans and her briefs all the way off and tossing them aside onto the floor to join her shoes. I don’t know when she stepped out of her shoes. Her socks are still on. I leave them on, liking the way she looks lying on my bed, wearing her socks, strapped on, the pink dildo standing at attention. I think my recent epiphanies have changed me, or at least what I’ve always considered erotic, sensual.
I pull my Mr. Smiley Face T-shirt over my head and she smiles as my breasts spring free of the fabric. I’d forgotten I’m not wearing a bra.
“I like the T-shirt. It’s cute.”
“I think I’ve had it since Junior High.”
“Big tits on a little girl.”
I tilt my head. “I barely remember being a little girl and I got my boobs in third grade.”
“I’m still waiting to grow boobs,” she says and that surprises me. I shimmy out of my shorts, revealing that I also didn’t take the time to pull on panties after my shower. I toss everything to the side, crawling up over her, until I am straddling her with her cock rubbing against my belly. I lean forward, taking her by surprise when I fill my mouth with her breast and suck hard on her nipple. She gasps and I wonder if sucking nipples is taboo.
I flatten out on top of her, partly holding her down as my mouth closes over her other nipple, deciding it needs equal attention. I suck, soft, hard, then lick, a quick tease, making her nipple bead into a hard point. The soft sounds she makes lets me know she is enjoying my attention. I love playing with her breasts and take my time massaging each one, squeezing, rolling them beneath my palms, and I think driving her perfectly insane, if her reaction is any indication. Her hands fist into the sheets.
Sitting back, I pinch both of her nipples at the same time, a hard pinch.
“Oh!” She tries to struggle up, but I pinch again, going up onto my knees, angling over her standing-at-attention dildo-cock. When she sees my intention, she stops struggling, stops moving, barely breathing, even though I am still holding on to her nipples with my fingertips.
The head of the cock touches my pussy and I drop, letting it hit home and fill me in a fast, slick slide. Fully seated on her, I rock, pushing in, rubbing her until she moans, rubbing me until I can’t take it anymore, and within too short a time, we are both coming, fast, too fast, and hard, like teenage boys. Our sounds of pleasure come out growled, mine in higher pitch, hers a barked scream, and together the sound is harmonic perfection as we orgasm.
I close my eyes, wanting to hold on to the moment, but she forces me to open them when she commands, “Look at me.”
I do and the look I see on her face brings me to tears…tenderness, need…something more than that, which I refuse to consider. She pulls me down into her arms, whispering words meant to make me feel safe, wanted, cared for.
“You are so precious to me. I wish you knew how much I care for you.”
Her words make me cry on her shoulder and she lets me, not commenting, just holding me and repeating the words meant to make me feel good, but she doesn’t say the only words I want to hear. I love you. Obviously finding love as a lesbian isn’t any easier than finding love with a man.
Chapter Ten
My final shoot is today. I am both dreading and looking forward to it. I woke up remembering the other reason I don’t date…why I don’t have sex outside of work. It makes me remember that sex is more than two bodies joining just for sport or entertainment. What I feel while I am with Geri touches me deeper than skin, more intimately than mind…it is like our souls dance. I close my eyes, trying to not cry, wishing I’d known what intimacy could feel like…before Simon. I sigh heavily at the thought because I don’t wish that, I don’t wish I’d never experienced him. But now that I have experienced her…
Sex is magical.
I feel like an idiot. What if it is all a lie? Even before we had sex, I was hoping this relationship could be the one. Why am I so desperate for love?
Why can’t she just say I love you?
It’s been three days since Geri showed up on my doorstep and she hasn’t left yet. That means something, doesn’t it?
There is something seriously wrong with me. Not because she’s a woman, but bec
ause I feel like I’m already in love with her. It feels like a repeat of the biggest mistake of my life—Simon—because I fell in love with him instantly and look how that turned out.
I want to believe that my reaction to Geri is nothing like my reaction to Simon.
For one thing, I’m thinking clearly. I know I cannot alter my life course for this woman. I regret not telling her about the appointment with the fertility specialist. I think I should have mentioned it. Surely over the course of the last few days the topic should have come up. I tell myself it is for the best that I haven’t said anything, remembering Simon’s reaction.
It’s kind of like not mentioning that today is my last shoot when I left this morning. If I’d have mentioned that I was going to be filming, it would have ruined last night…and this morning…and both romps between the sheets were mind-boggling.
I close my eyes, thinking about how wonderful it is to be made love to by her.
I have learned to be sexy, I know I’m desirable, but I’ve never felt loveable. Yet, when she makes love to me, I feel sexy but also loveable.
Oh, I’m not going to deny the sex, the sex is great, the sex is amazing, the sex is consciousness-altering. I try to honestly believe our relationship isn’t just about the sex, but then I immediately remember how it felt to be touched by her and my every nerve becomes aware.
I’m still not convinced I’m a lesbian though.
She probably thinks that I’m at the gym or the grocery, I didn’t say that I am here, filming. One, I don’t know how she’d react, and two, I don’t know how I’d react if it went badly. I tell myself that it is my final shoot. After today, it’s over, she won’t have my career to object to.
I don’t think that that part will matter if she finds out. I think she will be angry and hurt, maybe even betrayed. But, damn it, this is my job!