Roxie’s hand found my thigh, but I was too into the bout to pay attention to her tracing circles inside my leg or her hand moving slowly toward my baby maker. Her eyes were trained on the track, and she screamed and yelled throughout the first half. She tried to explain the rules and what was going on, but it was much too complicated to understand. All I knew was I wanted to be one of those girls.
“They’re hot, huh?” she whispered into my ear.
The way the heat hit my skin and the words blew a cool breeze across my neck sent a shiver down my spine. My senses were heightened, and my body was raw in the most intimate way. Roller derby caused my insides to purr the way my Camaro did—and I was in love. My eyes followed the Jammer in black, I think Roxie said her name was Aerial, but it didn’t matter—all I knew was little girls needed to aspire to this, not boys with bank accounts.
The night with the derby girls was over sooner than I had wanted it to be. I felt like I’d been inducted into a secret society, and I never wanted to leave. Roxie assured me I could find videos of previous bouts, things fans had put together, if I wanted to keep up with them, and offered to bring me back anytime I wanted to come. I eagerly told her to get me a schedule so we could make plans. I had to have more.
My body was hyped up on adrenaline, amped, ready to go. Roxie seemed just as ignited, but she’d also gotten comfortable and let her guard down. As we left, she wrapped her hand around the side of my waist and tucked the tips her fingers into my front pocket. Being with her was comfortable like things were with Ronnie. This chick knew how to have a good time.
“So, back to my house, or do you want to grab dinner…drinks maybe?”
I hadn’t thought about food all day. I hadn’t eaten at Collier’s because it was all fattening crap that would have added five more miles to my run in the morning. Then I’d left in such a hurry, I hadn’t had time to grab a snack before meeting up with Roxie. “How about an appetizer at a bar with drinks?” I didn’t want to sit at a restaurant for an hour at ten o’clock at night, and I didn’t do fast food…of any variety.
“Sounds good. How about the Tool Box over on Fifth?”
The Tool Box had the best fusion in town and a mixologist on staff. It was an odd type of place no one ever thought would succeed when they had opened, and the name sucked. But they were going strong years later. The first night Roxie and I had gone out, we’d both opted for salads. I didn’t know her motivation, but I had been nervous and didn’t want to eat anything that might upset my stomach. Roxie was thin, and I prayed it wasn’t because she ate like a rabbit.
My eyes went wide in admiration as my date started ordering from the sushi menu, and didn’t expect us to share a roll. I didn’t bother to tell her I didn’t eat rice. A little wouldn’t hurt me, and I was sure the concoctions we were about to down were laced with sugar…a carb by any other name. Tomorrow morning would suck. But tonight…tonight would taste phenomenal.
Roxie had shown me an amazing evening. I’d felt guilty not splitting the bill with her at the Tool Box, but Veronica told me if I liked a girl, not to argue—so I didn’t put up a fight…at least not much of one. I didn’t want her to think I expected her to pay. By the time we’d left, it was nearly midnight. The roller derby had me wired, but the food and drinks relaxed me, so I now hovered somewhere in between. I didn’t want the date to end; I didn’t want to go home, but I was ready to chill out.
I walked Roxie to the front door, completely unsure of how to take the lead here, or if I was even supposed to. But I leaned in and kissed her cheek and thanked her again.
She glanced down, suddenly shy, and peered up at me through hooded lids with doe-like eyes. I swear she batted her lashes like Betty Boop before asking, “Do you want to come in?”
Roxie had been flirtatious all night. She’d casually touched me without being intrusive. And her expression appeared innocent at the moment, but I wasn’t foolish enough to believe there wasn’t a vixen waiting to reveal herself. The moment I stepped through that door, I was accepting her invitation—inviting her to show me how to play the game.
“Yeah. Sure.” And those two words opened up the playing field and the experience meter. Roxie had been the first woman to give me an orgasm. Maybe tonight we’d explore a little further. If ever I was going to be with a woman, Roxie was perfection.
She kicked her heels off and picked them up. I followed her, not knowing where else to go since I’d never been in her house before. She led me to her room where she tossed her shoes into the corner. Maybe she wasn’t perfect—I cringed at the pile of clutter behind the door.
“Take your shoes off, I know your feet must be tired.” I wore heels every day. All day. Other than running in the morning, there was nothing else I’d rather be in. But if she wanted me to get more comfortable, I would. I lifted one foot at a time, like a flamingo, and pushed both shoes off with my pointer finger. I couldn’t bring myself to leave them where they were, so I set them neatly to the left of the door and turned back around.
“Wanna watch a movie?” She’d turned the television on in her bedroom and made herself comfy up against the headboard.
I crawled up the bed like I would have done if a man had been waiting for me. Her gaze heated, and her eyes widened just briefly. The way her skin flushed told me she liked it, and I rewarded her with a teasing grin. I didn’t have a clue what the hell I was doing, but I knew how to flirt. And I certainly knew how to gain someone’s attention—male or female.
Nervously, I swallowed the fear down and curled up at her side. She wrapped her arm around me and slid down, so we were face to face. I couldn’t recall a time I’d ever been this close to a woman, and I could feel my heart pounding, but the excitement that normally filled me and overrode my anxiety when I was body deep with a man wasn’t there. Staring into her eyes, I witnessed her admiration. I’d observed that same gaze time after time just before hooking up with a guy. And when she leaned in, she hesitated for a fraction of a second, and I closed my eyes.
Her lips met mine, they were soft and supple. Without sight, the kiss was no different than hundreds of others I’d experienced in my adult life. She gently turned and gradually opened her mouth. I followed her lead, and our tongues met in a gentle exchange. With each swipe, my mind drifted further from the reality that I was French kissing a woman and focused on the sensation alone. My hands drifted from the safety of her jean-clad hip and around her bottom. Hers moved and roamed along my side and down my thighs. The motions were the same, but everything felt different. Even when a man was tender, there was still a masculine edge to the sensation of his touch. I wanted to push that expectation aside and embrace the pleasure she brought to my body.
As Roxie deepened the kiss, I responded in kind, trying to move past the barrier preventing me from enjoying the experience. But my mind kept making comparisons to past lovers, and it was just different. I didn’t know if she could tell I hadn’t engaged emotionally, physically my body and hands went through the motions, but I hadn’t surrendered to the indulgence. She eased me onto my back and came with me, leaning over me in a lead position. Her hand crept under my shirt, and her fingers traveled up my abdomen and around my breast.
As I forced myself to let go, I kept my eyes closed when she broke the kiss and moved down my torso. Her lips touched my abs, and she shimmied my shirt up my tummy and then over my head. Everything she did felt good, but…off. My first time with a guy had been similar—awkward—but I knew once I ripped off the virgin Band-Aid, I could enjoy an orgasm given by anyone. Hell, I was willing to sleep with Justin just to reach that peak. My drive was high, and my thirst hadn’t been quenched in longer than I cared to admit. Dry humping her thigh in a bar had barely scratched the itch building between my legs.
The angel on my shoulder encouraged me to stop, trust my instincts, go against the grain. The devil on the other one threw caution to the wind and encouraged my hedonistic desire. I took the devil’s hand and his advice. The moment I reached down
to unbutton my jeans, Roxie saw the green light and eased out of her clothing as well. Standing next to the bed, she reached behind her to undo her bra and let it fall to the floor while I watched. I took mine off. Then her lace panties. I had to stop myself from asking her where she’d gotten them and hoped I could check the label later. I hooked my thumbs into the sides of my own and then shimmied them down my thighs before kicking them to the floor with my toe.
Her skin was flawless, her breasts small but pert. The lines of her body were soft and curvy—feminine. But as my eyes traveled to her navel and then to her curly curtains, I stared in awe. Unaware I’d started moving, I found myself on my belly, with her next to the bed, and my eyes staring at the intricate hairstyle she sported on her Mounds of Venus.
Roxie giggled at my interest. “You okay down there?”
Those four words pulled me out of my haze…temporarily. “Who does your waxing?”
“I do it myself.” She was proud of the neatly designed trim job, as she should be. It was artwork. I couldn’t fathom how she even managed the details. Tweezers maybe. Fuck, that would be painful. It was bad enough to have your hair ripped from the follicle in large sheets, plucking them one by one to create a pattern other than a strip was impressive…or sadistic, I wasn’t sure which.
She pushed my head back, not knowing I was staring at her furry, pink mink dazzled by her muff. When I made eye contact again, her irises had glazed over with what I assumed could only be lust. I sat up on my knees, and she lay down on her back with her feet on either side of my legs. I now had a front row seat for Snatch of the Caribbean, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to stay for the show.
The longer I sat there, unmoving, the more she talked…clearly uncomfortable with me between her legs without any action taking place. But I didn’t know the protocol for this situation. And I hadn’t figured out why she got to go first. I wanted her to pitch—I’d catch. She could give me the lay of the land so I’d know how to reciprocate. Right now, I was blind in a field full of land mines.
“You okay?” Her concern was sweet, but I could tell my hesitation made her nervous.
I didn’t care if a person had a man or a woman staring at their golden valley, talking without action meant something was wrong. Sight. Smell. One of the two ate at you the longer the person dawdled. Jesus, I wish I’d had more to drink. I untucked my legs from beneath me and stretched out between her thighs to try to figure out how to enjoy this indoor picnic. Casually, I traced little designs inside her knees and on the tops of her legs while I got into position. But the moment she opened her legs like a butterfly to give me room, and I saw all there was to see, I was lost. The creases, the folds, the nub, the color changes in the skin, the way it glistened—all I could see was a cold-cut combo.
She bolted upright like she’d been shocked and scared the shit out of me. Her face was beet red, but it wasn’t embarrassment—Roxie was pissed off. “Did you just say something about deli meat while staring at my vagina?”
Crap. Crap. Crap. Twice my mind had spoken its inner thoughts with audible words. The first resulted in a much-needed orgasm, this one didn’t look like it would have a happy ending. My brow furrowed, and my lips grimaced. “Shit. I’m sorry, Roxie. I don’t—”
She pulled her legs to her chest, shielding her fluff muffin from my sight. “Just don’t. It was too fast. I get it.”
No. She had it all wrong. It had nothing to do with her. I sighed and sat back on my heels. “It’s not you, Roxie.”
Her gaze had cast to her knees before she rested her chin on them. Seeing her eyes fill with tears shocked the hell out of me. I hadn’t gotten the impression she was terribly sensitive, but I hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings regardless. I knew I had to give her some plausible explanation, but I couldn’t come up with anything other than the truth. At this point, whatever mood she was in had been squashed anyhow, might as well completely slam the door on this fiasco. “I’ve never done this before.”
I couldn’t meet her stare, but I watched as her body unfolded and relaxed. She sat Indian style on the bed, which from this angle was an even less appealing view than being head on. Her fingers touched my chin and lifted it to force me to look at her.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“I think that’s the equivalent of telling someone you’re a thirty-nine-year-old virgin. Not exactly something you scream from the mountaintops.”
“You’re a virgin?” Her jaw dropped.
“God, no. Not literally. Just with women.” I scoffed at her assumption.
“So is this just some weird curiosity?”
I grabbed my shirt and tugged it back over my head and reached for my panties on the floor. She might be perfectly comfortable having this heart to heart in the buff, but I wasn’t.
I asked her if she wanted the CliffsNotes version, but she assured me she wanted it all. So that’s what I gave her. The truth of my marriage. The tragedy of dating men coupled with lots of eye rolls. And the straw that broke my heterosexual back…Justin.
“You know you can’t just decide to be a lesbian, right?”
It was like I was staring into the face of my best friend. Lesbians thought they knew everything about being gay. “I’m not convinced.”
“Really?” She eyed me skeptically.
There was no point in arguing with her. Roxie had just joined Beck in the friend zone, and I was back to square one. When I left, I made sure to reinforce my desire to pursue my newfound love for roller derby. Luckily, Roxie didn’t hate me at the end of the night—somehow, I’d endeared myself to her through my cooter blunder, and there was no way she hadn’t become part of my permanent clan.
6
Even though I’d managed to salvage a friendship with Roxie, I hadn’t been able to get the sight of her Little Debbie out of my mind. The whole way home, I kept having labia flashbacks. I had a new respect for anyone who loved to taste test the fish in tuna town. I’d never studied my tunnel of love, but by the time I pulled into the garage, I was on a mission.
My feet beelined for the bedroom, where I quickly divested myself of my clothing and hauled ass into the bathroom. I climbed onto the vanity, between the two sinks, and brought my feet up onto the counter. There wasn’t a lot of space with my crap in the way, so one foot pushed stuff to the left, and the other foot moved junk to the right, leaving me spread eagle on the granite. All I had to do was lift my line of sight, and Pandora’s box would be wide open. I counted down in my head from three, determined to look on one, but failed. I tried to psych myself into it, pump myself up, generate excitement about having knowledge of my holy place. I forced my gaze to the mirror, but before I caught a glimpse of what was between my legs, I shut my eyes tightly.
This was ridiculous. I’d shaved for years. I’d touched myself, rubbed my magic button, fingered the promised land. I couldn’t begin to count the number of guys who’d pleasured my pink pearl while feasting on my cookie, and not one of them had ever complained. I hadn’t had a single man run screaming from between my legs or cry out, “My eyes,” in horror. I popped my lids open and stared in wonder at cupid’s cupboard. There was so much to see in such a tiny space. And while I had no desire to memorize it, I found myself captivated like I’d just seen my first willie in a porn. Completely mesmerized.
I might have stared in the mirror all night, but my phone rang, and when it went unanswered, the text messages started. Veronica was the only person who had the audacity to be so obnoxious—I’d tried to teach her cell-phone etiquette, but she was still the patron in the restaurant talking loudly enough for everyone else to hear. And in her mind, since a cell phone belonged to one person and not a household, it was perfectly acceptable to call said phone at any time, day or night, because she wouldn’t disturb anyone else.
I hopped off the counter and stopped to pull on a tank top and pair of night shorts before finding my cell. Collier and Ronnie were the only two people who’d known I had a date tonight, and it wasn’t Ronni
e. A smile crept across my lips at the thought of his reaching out to check on me. It was tempting not to respond, make him wait, but it dawned on me—he thought I dug women. He wasn’t asking in hopes it hadn’t gone well, he was asking just to be nice. I refused to acknowledge my lady-luck, so I told him I had fun and asked if he’d ever been to roller derby. Men were like toddlers, it took very little to draw their attention away from the subject at hand.
Before I finally passed out, he invited me to a pool party at his house tomorrow afternoon. His friends had liked me and were all coming back around two. Beck and Stella would be there, along with the guys I’d met earlier, but that was where the guest list stopped. I’d planned to hang out at Ronnie’s house, but finagled an invite for her and Trish, and committed to seeing him then.
The next morning, I slept later than I should have. Five miles in the heat of the summer at six o’clock was quite different than nine…by a solid twenty degrees. By the time I got home, I was covered in sweat, and my clothes stuck to my body. After a shower, I put on a swimsuit, then clothes over it, and packed a bag for the pool. Having a guy friend I didn’t care about impressing was a nice shift, but whether I’d given up peen or not, I would rock a bikini by the pool.
I didn’t bother calling Ronnie. I’d have better luck convincing her to tag along in person. And there was a better chance of her going if I invited Trish. It was conniving, but I liked to get my way, and this pretty much ensured I would. To my surprise, neither hesitated. Trish and Ronnie jumped at the chance to meet West…and Beck. Although, neither made it a secret their interest lay in Collier’s potential.
“You two do remember he thinks I drink from the horn of plenty, right?”
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