Double Pleasure, Double Pain

by Nikki Rashan

  Question two. “How did you meet?”

  Her face turned tender. “I was at a housewarming for an older acquaintance of mine. She was a woman I had just met and she was interested in me, but I just thought she was cool to hang around with. She was a social butterfly, so once the party got started, she mingled about with all of her friends, often leaving me alone. Michelle was there with a friend of hers, and we ended up in the same room together. We started a conversation about a piece of art, and it took off from there. We exchanged numbers and talked every day, beginning that night.”

  “Sounds like it was meant to be.”

  “I think so. Even though we’re not a couple anymore, I still believe we came together at the right time, when we were supposed to.”

  “You’re saying you believe in fate?” I asked her.

  “Definitely. I don’t believe in chance meetings. I try to gain something from everyone I meet, whether I talk to them for only a minute or make a lifelong friend.” She winked a hazel brown eye at me.

  Question three. “You’ve said that people are born gay. You’ve always known you were gay?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, getting up to bring the bottle of vodka into the room with us. “As a child I had a crush on my female teachers, a couple of my mom’s friends, and the girl next door. Her name was Stephanie too, and in sixth and seventh grade you couldn’t tear us apart. We were so close and shared such an intimate bond. Not sexually, of course, but our emotional energy for one another was deep. She had my back and I had hers.”

  “I had a friend like that,” I said, remembering Stacey, my best friend in kindergarten and first grade (pre-Tori and Vanessa days, of course). Then, it was Stacey and I that were joined at the hip, until her mom and dad divorced. Neither wanted the responsibility of caring for her, so she was sent to live with her grandmother in another state. I was devastated when she left. But that didn’t mean I was gay. Right? I was just a little girl.

  “We moved across town a year after my dad died, and we weren’t able to keep in close contact anymore. I just knew I would see her in the clubs as I got older, but I haven’t.”

  “And I haven’t run into her either. She must be straight or she’s moved away,” Steph said, laughing. “More?” she asked me after pouring herself another shot.

  “Yes,” I replied, downing the drink right after she handed it to me. “Um, what are the clubs like?” I asked.

  She ran a hand through the glossy strands of her hair. “That depends on the club and where you are. There’s only a handful of female clubs in the city, so I go down to Chicago, but not as often as I used to. And the clubs for us are even more slim. They come and go just like the straight clubs. I love mixed clubs. And when I say mixed, I mean gender and race. I love watching the drag shows, because some of those men put a lot of work into their bodies, and the results are amazing! There are a few that you would never know were really men.”

  “I have to see that one day,” I said, remembering the few times I’d seen David dressed like a woman.

  “Yeah, it’s crazy,” Steph said.

  “So, at the club, men dance with men and women dance with women?”

  “Yessssssss,” she answered, like that was a stupid question.

  I guess it was. “Do you still go out?”

  “Not like I used to,” she said.

  “Would you take me?” I asked.

  Steph frowned. “Why?”

  I didn’t want to say anything stupid again. “I’m still learning about diversity, even at my age, and I want to experience as much as I can about all groups of people. And I want to be able to share as much as I can with you, since we’re friends.”

  She gave me a look that said, Come on, and I had to laugh at my politically correct answer.

  “Uh-huh. You’re not going looking for some freak show, are you?”

  “I do want to see what it’s like, but I promise to be cool. I won’t embarrass you.”

  “When do you want to go?” she asked.

  I looked at my watch. It was eight-thirty. “There is no time like the present. Let’s go now,” I said, standing up.

  “Not yet, girl, calm down,” she said as she stood up next to me. “There’s nothing jumping until at least eleven. Let me think, it’s Saturday so the Dollhouse is a nice place to go.” She looked at me a little concerned. “Are you sure, Ky? What if you see someone you know? There are more of us than you think.”

  “I’m not worried about that. And if I do see someone, then we both saw each other in the club, so there’s not much they can say, is there?”

  “I see your point. What about Jeff? Are you going to tell him?”

  “I haven’t even told Jeff that you’re gay, and I don’t think it’s necessary to fill him in on this little outing either. He’s hanging with his brother tonight anyway, and I doubt that they’ll be there.”

  She corrected me. “Don’t be so sure. Lots of straight men hang out in the club. The Dollhouse is for females, but there are most definitely a few men in there looking for some freaky shit. It’s so annoying. Just be careful. I’ve known a couple of girls that have gotten busted at the club with their ‘friend’ and it’s not pretty. Some men love it, others get pissed. I don’t know what kind of person Jeff is, but I don’t want to get you caught up in something ugly. Especially with me in the middle.”

  “Thanks, Steph, but Jeff is open-minded. He’s always been cool with my cousin David.”

  Steph’s eyes quickly rolled to the back of her head and then back at me. “Girl, don’t you know there is a major difference between being cordial to a gay person and taking it to a personal level? Some men find it intimidating when their woman has a gay female friend.”

  “Why?” I asked, like I really didn’t know the answer.

  Steph crossed her arms across her chest and struck a pose leaning on one hip. She cleared her throat in a listen-to-what-I’m-about-to-say manner.

  “What’s the reason you haven’t told Jeff about me?” she asked.

  My eyes immediately widened, and I tried to cover them with a blink. And another blink. And another. I finally answered.

  “I don’t think it’s an issue. Just like you said, I don’t introduce my other friends by their sexual preference.

  That’s your private life. I thought I should respect that.”

  She waited, but I was finished.

  “Mmm, all right. Whatever you say.” She paused. “That’s the only reason?” she asked, searching for a deeper explanation for my hesitancy to talk about her with Jeff.

  Even with her standing right in front of me, I pretended like I didn’t hear her and changed the subject.

  “Can I wear what I have on?” I asked.

  “Of course, but I’m going to change. Otherwise, people will think we’re trying to dress alike and that is so played!”

  “I heard that. So what are you going to wear?”

  “Let’s go check my closet,” she said, leading me to the bedroom opposite Jaron’s.

  I felt like I had stepped into Cleopatra’s lair when I walked through the door. She had a king-sized canopy bed covered in black-satin sheets with a gold bed skirt and gold silk fabric draped around the canopy posts. There were at least six large pillows across the top of the bed. Some in black-and-gold satin pillowcases, others in leopard print. At the foot of the bed sat a black chest with gold trim. A beautiful statue, at least four feet tall of a nude woman, stood in one corner, and in the other was a similar statue. Only, this statue had another woman embracing her from behind. The statue wasn’t tasteless, but gentle and intimate.

  There was a gold mirror hanging above her bed with matching black-trimmed mirrors on each of the walls at the sides of the bed. Also gracing the walls were two pictures of beautiful African women in gold wrap dresses keeping a watchful eye over Stephanie.

  My feet warmed up as I stepped onto the plush black carpeting toward her walk-in closet. Inside the closet to the left hung business suits in gray
, navy, and black. On the opposite side were jeans, khakis, jogging suits, sweaters, and casual tops. Her variety of shoes ranged from Nine West pumps to Nike running shoes to Old Navy flip-flops.

  “I might get lost in here,” I said jokingly. “Where do I start?”

  “Since you’re wearing jeans, I’ll wear jeans too.”

  She pulled a pair of black fitted jeans from a hanger and a brightly colored sweater with a plunging neckline.

  “Hey, this jacket is cute,” I said, picking up a black, button-down leather jacket.

  “You were reading my mind,” she said.

  “Are you going to shower first?” I asked her.

  “Of course.” She laughed. “You can shower after me. Do you want to wear something of mine?” she asked.

  “Maybe I’ll change tops,” I said, picking up and admiring a fuchsia blouse.

  “That will look pretty on you,” she commented. “Please wear it.”

  I blushed a color nearly as bright as the top. “Okay, let me run and grab my overnight bag,” I said.

  “You brought one with you?” she asked, curious.

  “I keep one in the trunk just in case,” I explained.

  “Of what?” she wanted to know.

  “In case of emergency or car breakdown. You never know when you’ll get stranded somewhere,” I said. “Or who you may end up spending the night with,” I added.

  She smiled at my flirtatious remark. “My, my.”

  I left the closet and picked up my keys before going outside. It was a clear night with a crisp fall breeze. Autumn had definitely arrived, a reminder of the chilly, snowy winter that lay ahead.

  I felt like a kid on my way to the circus. I was so excited to go to the club with Steph and to get a taste of what her lifestyle was like. I wondered if the scene was similar to the straight clubs. Were there groups of friends who came to relax, have a drink and converse with one another? And yet another crowd that came strictly to get sweaty on the dance floor? And were there the aggressors on the prowl approaching every woman for a phone number or an invitation home that evening? I couldn’t wait to find out.

  When I got back inside, Stephanie had put on a 112 CD and “Peaches & Cream” was playing. I sang the words and thought about the song in an entirely new perspective.

  The shower was running, so I sat on the couch and waited for her to finish. I stared at the picture of her and Michelle and imagined their relationship: waking up in the same bed, getting ready for work, preparing Jaron for school, having dinner together, talking about each other’s day in the evening, and falling asleep in each other’s arms, the same activities that my parents did on a daily basis, but in this case, with two members of the same sex. There didn’t seem to be a big difference. So what was all the hoopla about?

  I heard the water turn off, and in came Steph, wrapped in a black towel, water dripping down her glistening legs. I watched one drop roll down her inner thigh and over her calf until it rested on the floor.

  “All yours. I put a towel and washcloth in there for you already,” she informed me.

  I unglued my eyes from her thighs and thanked her. I believe it came out just above a whisper. I picked up my bag and went into her bathroom, avoiding eye contact with her. After I brushed my teeth and put on my shower cap, I took a cold shower.

  When I returned, Stephanie was sitting on her floor in a black bra and panties while polishing her nails. Shit, was she doing this on purpose? Of course not. Tori, Vanessa, and I see each other this way every week. So why did my knees get weak at the sight of her bare skin?

  “Umm . . . where is your iron? I need to re-iron my jeans,” I asked, concentrating on just her eyes.

  She pointed toward the kitchen.

  “The laundry room is through the kitchen to the left. It’s in there. I already turned it on for you.”

  I whispered thanks again and walked away wrapped in a towel that I wore over my bra and panties.

  Okay, no offense to my male species out there, but no man had ever laid out my towel and washcloth for me. They just pointed me toward the linen closet. And I’d had the iron left on for me, but never turned on in advance. Was Steph more thoughtful, or had I just dated some trifling-ass men? Before Jeff, of course.

  I dressed in the laundry room before going back to Steph’s room. She was ending a phone call.

  “I’ll see you in a little bit,” she said to the person on the other end. She looked at me and laughed as the other person responded.

  “Off-limits, girl. Bye!” She was still chuckling when she hung up. “That was my crazy friend, Karen. She’ll be at the Dollhouse tonight, so you can meet her. She’s funny as hell. It’s been so long since I’ve been out, she couldn’t believe I was going.”

  “Well, I’m glad I could get you out.”

  I applied makeup to my freshly washed face, using black eyeliner and shadow for a nighttime dramatic effect, and emphasized my lips with a hot pink gloss. Steph and I both used her flatiron to smooth our ends. Once dressed, and as usual, she was beautiful.

  We took her Malibu to the club, which surprisingly turned out to be no more than a corner bar just five minutes from my own apartment. I felt nervous excitement like I was going on my very first date. My heart was racing when she opened the door to the dimly lit, smoky bar. Janet’s “You Want This” was playing as Stephanie paid our covers and we were in.

  My eyes darted right to left, and all around. Women, mostly African American, of every shade, height, size, feminine and tomboy, surrounded me. I felt like a baby first opening my eyes to a new world. There were women with nearly bald haircuts, in baggy jeans, sweatshirts, and Timberlands. Others casually dressed like Steph and me. And a handful wearing sexy outfits with ass and titties hanging out.

  Steph nudged me toward the bar and ordered vodka and cranberry for both of us. I drank it like water as we made our way to the back by the pool table and dance floor, which was about the size of my bedroom. Steph greeted a few women but introduced me to none. I made eye contact with several, who looked at me and tapped the person next to them, like I was the new girl in school.

  We were watching a group of women shoot pool in teams when someone shouted Stephanie’s name. Just about everyone looked. Approaching us was a cute, petite brown-skinned thing with short, wavy hair. She wore dark blue jeans with a matching jacket and Ralph Lauren Polo sweatshirt underneath. They embraced.

  “What’s up, Karen?” Steph asked.

  “Nuttin’, nuttin’, just chillin’, you know what I’m sayin’. Keepin’ it real,” Karen replied.

  For such a little person, her voice boomed over the music.

  “Karen, this is Kyla. Kyla, this is Karen. Keep her at a safe distance, Ky,” Steph said teasingly.

  “Heeeeeeyyyyy,” Karen said, licking her bottom lip as she shook my hand. A little too much spit lingered and shined when she spoke.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, probably sounding too professional.

  “You came alone?” Steph asked Karen.

  “Yeah, I thought I would, you know, since you was steppin’ out tonight and shit. But I see why you been stayin’ in these days,” Karen said, eyeing me up and down.

  “Anyway, mind your business,” Steph responded, taking a step closer to me. “How’s Sharice?”

  “Maaaaaannnnn, you been on the low-low for real, girl! Sharice moved to Texas a munt ago. Her moms needed some help wit’ her younger brotha, you know. He fell in wit’ the wrong crowd and started doin’ stupid shit. She say it’s temporary, only ’til he graduate, but I told her I can’t be sittin’ around twiddlin’ my thumbs while she gone, you know what I’m sayin’,” she said, glancing around the room, looking at everybody’s ass. “I’m goin’ to the bar. You ladies need somethin’?” she asked after seeing a piece she wanted to bite.

  I looked at my cup of melted ice. “Vodka and cranberry,” I said.

  “I’m good,” Steph said. She had only taken a few sips of her drink.

  Ka
ren walked to the bar, slapping five and slapping asses all the way.

  “I told you she was crazy,” Steph said when Karen walked away. “Can you believe she owns and runs three day-care centers?”

  For real?

  Steph continued. “I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable by letting her assume whatever she wants about us. I have to let her think what she needs to. Otherwise, she’s going to be up in your ass all night.”

  “That’s okay. Thanks for looking out. She’s kind of cute, but loud as hell!”

  “I know. Don’t go to a restaurant or the movies with her. She’ll embarrass the shit out of you. We used to hang a lot when Michelle lived here. Michelle was really close to her girlfriend at the time.”

  “I see.” I waited a moment and then asked, “Do you still miss her?”

  “Michelle?” Steph asked.

  I nodded.

  “Not like I used to,” she answered. “My heart ached for her when she first left and for quite some time after that. Now I miss her the way you miss an old friend you haven’t talked to in a long time. But she’ll always have a special place in my heart. Definitely. You miss your old loves?”

  I thought for a brief moment. “Honestly, no. I’ve done a good job holding on to my heart since the first time it got broken. Since then I haven’t cared enough about anyone to miss them now.”

  “But you love Jeff, right?” she asked.

  “Sure, he’s the best man that ever happened to me.”

  She played with my words. “Why do you say it like that? The best man?”

  “Because there were quite a few men before him that treated me nothing like he does.”

  “Do you think there’s a difference between loving a man and loving a woman?” she asked.

  “Here you go, baby,” Karen interrupted, handing me my drink.

  I took a swig immediately, grateful for the save. The two of them reminisced for a while, so I studied the crowd. Yep, the cliques were the same. I saw a group of feminine women sitting at the bar engaged in conversation, acting like they were too cute to talk to anybody. There was a crowd of couples bumping and grinding on the dance floor. And yet another group of women, with a few men, holding up the wall, staring at every ass that walked by.