by M. Ullrich
Jennifer took one last bite of her cavatelli. “You’re right.” She stood and cleared the table quickly, shooing Lauren away when she tried to help. Lauren brought their wine to the living room and waited for her there.
Lauren sat on the large, plush couch and counted as she breathed. She was anxious but excited. Her time with Jennifer had been wonderful. Jennifer seemed normal and laid back, exactly what she needed in a woman. Now she just had to relax. Jennifer walked into the room. “All cleaned up?”
“Dinner one and dinner two.” She sat beside Lauren, pressed against her side. Jennifer put her arm across the back of the couch, offering a wordless invitation to get closer.
With a subtle deep breath, Lauren placed her hand on Jennifer’s thigh. She melted the moment she felt how hard the muscle was. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?” Lauren tilted her head to look at Jennifer.
Jennifer ran her fingers through Lauren’s hair and whispered, “Or something.” Jennifer leaned in slowly, her nose barely touching Lauren’s before their lips met.
Lauren concentrated on the firm pressure of Jennifer’s soft lips. Lauren opened up willingly to Jennifer, allowing her tongue its first tentative taste. Jennifer moaned. She felt along Jennifer’s toned arms, each muscle of Jennifer’s upper back flexing beneath her palms.
Lauren felt…she felt…nothing.
She lay back as Jennifer encouraged her onto her back and cradled Lauren’s head. Lauren focused on the firm dominance of Jennifer’s body as she reclined beneath her. She was more aware of her surroundings; the scent of dinner in the air, how velvety the surface of the sofa was, and the sound of a car passing outside. Lauren couldn’t snap into the moment.
With her right hand, Lauren reached for Jennifer’s skin in hopes of shocking her brain into feeling something. Jennifer’s hips ground into her the moment Lauren touched her bare lower back. Lauren opened her eyes. She saw Jennifer’s eyes closed tightly; her face was flushed and she was clearly enjoying their time together. Lauren wondered if her own body, or mind, was broken. A gorgeous woman was on top of her, but she felt not a flicker of desire.
How was this possible?
Lauren kissed Jennifer again, grabbed her firm ass and pulled Jennifer into her. She broke the kiss, her head falling against the sofa, when she continued to feel blank. Lauren huffed in frustration.
Jennifer pressed her forehead to Lauren’s and said, “I’m sorry, I got carried away. I wasn’t kidding earlier when I said you look great.” Jennifer’s breathing was labored, but she spared a laugh. Lauren didn’t feel a fraction of how Jennifer looked—aroused and happy.
Lauren wanted to crawl into a hole. How was she not into this incredible woman? She ran her hands up Jennifer’s sides, intent on feeling every incredible dip and flex, before framing Jennifer’s face with her hands. She kissed her again, slowly, and surrendered to the fact that she didn’t feel a sexual spark with her. It seemed as if the butterflies had all died the moment their relationship turned physical.
“I should be the one apologizing,” Lauren said, sitting up. All the anxiety she expected earlier came at once, but for a different reason. “I had a wonderful time, you are absolutely incredible.” She pushed her hair out of her face. Lauren couldn’t meet Jennifer’s eyes.
“But…”
Lauren looked in her wide, curious eyes. What was she going to say? She searched her brain for the kindest, most honest response. “I think we make better friends,” she said, holding back the wince she wanted so badly to show.
Jennifer stared blankly for a moment before saying, “Really? We’re into each other, right? Because I felt something here,” she said while waving between them. “Obviously.”
A thousand thoughts flew through Lauren’s head. Was I into her? How into me can she possibly be? Why don’t I feel anything? Am I freaking myself out? Did Rebecca ruin me?
“I’m sorry.” Lauren stood and wiped her damp palms on her jeans. She gathered her purse and turned back to Jennifer who’d yet move from the couch. “It’s just—”
“Berit,” Jennifer said with a nod. Lauren backed up a step.
She shook her head and her mouth opened and closed several times. Lauren was flabbergasted. “What does Berit have to do with any of this?” Her stomach turned.
Jennifer stood and placed her hands on Lauren’s shoulders. “I figured you had a crush on her or something when you couldn’t stop talking about her.”
“She’s a mutual friend.”
“Yeah, I believed that for a brief moment, too.”
Lauren scratched at her neck and then her forehead. She fought to find her next words. Jennifer’s idea was crazy, and Lauren wanted to shut her down nicely. “I just don’t feel like we have physical chemistry, and if I stay and try to feel it, I know it’ll be for the wrong reasons.” Jennifer’s hands fell from Lauren’s shoulders. Lauren felt a flash of guilt.
Unexpectedly, Jennifer pulled Lauren in for a hug. “I would never want you to try to feel anything for me,” she whispered in Lauren’s ear. When she pulled back, a sad smile lit up her face. “But there are some people we can’t help but feel things for.”
Lauren opened her mouth, ready with a giant denial, but Jennifer stepped away and walked toward the door. “What the fuck is going on right now?” she muttered to herself.
The drive back was tense. Lauren replayed the entire day over and over in her head, along with every moment from their past dates. Why couldn’t her body respond to Jennifer the way her mind had? But above all else, Lauren couldn’t understand why Jennifer had to say Berit’s name.
Chapter Fourteen
Lauren didn’t sleep a wink after returning home from Jennifer’s. She mostly tossed and turned, but she also spent too much time dodging Rebecca’s incessant questions about her new girlfriend. Lauren didn’t have any answers because she loathed to admit she didn’t have a new girlfriend—at least to Rebecca. She was still tired when her five o’clock shift started at the Dollhouse. She shuffled sluggishly through the back door into the stockroom. She was grateful to hear an acoustic band playing, conjuring the memory of Berit mentioning an acoustic night coming up. Lauren’s memory had been suffering from stress-induced lapses, something she hoped would fade soon. She needed to relax.
“Hey, Lauren.” Berit’s voice was a little too loud for Lauren’s exhausted mind. She cursed her body for feeling like it was hungover when all she had was a glass of wine the night before. Emotional hangovers were a thing, apparently. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just really tired. I had a hard time staying asleep last night.” Lauren turned in to the small employee room and tucked her purse into the small cubby designated just for her belongings. She clocked in, but she could feel Berit’s eyes on her as she moved about.
“Acoustic night isn’t shaping up to be as popular as I had hoped.”
Lauren laughed lightly. “It’s only five. How many songs have been played? Two?”
“We’re covered out there if you need time, that’s what I’m trying to say.” Berit stepped closer to Lauren and touched her forearm gently.
Lauren looked at Berit’s hand, and Berit pulled back.
“I know it can be hard to adjust to the hours,” Berit said quietly. “I don’t want you to run yourself into the ground. I can always work the schedule around to make sure you’re okay.”
“And get special treatment from the boss?” Lauren joked half-heartedly. She did mean it. The last thing Lauren wanted was for her coworkers to think she was treated differently. Berit’s eyes bored into her, her kindness a chokehold. “I’ll be fine.” Lauren stepped around Berit and walked out of the employee room. She subconsciously touched her arm where Berit had laid her hand.
“I would do the same for any of my girls.”
“Your girls?” Lauren said, turning around so fast her hair flipped over her shoulder. “Is that what they are to you?”
Berit’s eyebrows rose.
“Th
ose women are not yours. They are very hardworking employees.” Lauren stepped back. Her eyes widened as her mind caught up with her mouth and was thoroughly embarrassed by her outburst.
Berit took in a slow breath, her face impassive. “I know you don’t think very highly of me as a person,” Berit said. Lauren’s heart sank instantly. “But I’m positive I’ve never given you a reason to think I treat my staff unfairly or inappropriately.” Berit’s tone was unlike anything Lauren had ever heard. She sounded tense, thoughtful, and a little hurt.
Lauren’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I don’t know what’s gotten into me today. I’m so grumpy.”
Some of the warmth returned to Berit’s smile. “It’s okay. We’re all entitled to our bad days. I’m wretched when I’m grumpy or mad, especially mad.”
“I doubt that.” Lauren stepped up to Berit and poked her shoulder, a move driven by a flash of flirtatious energy, something that seemed to catch both Lauren and Berit off guard.
Berit looked curiously from her shoulder to Lauren, a cocky smile lighting up her face.
Lauren cleared her throat. “I just mean that, uh, you’re always in a good mood.” She felt awkward but made no move to leave Berit’s space. Her body and mind were at war. What is going on with me?
“And let’s hope that’s the only side of me you see. Otherwise, you may hate me more than you did the first time you met me.”
“I didn’t hate you,” Lauren said seriously. “I could never hate you.”
Berit licked her lips as she seemed to be searching Lauren’s face for something, dishonesty maybe? Lauren wasn’t sure, but she must’ve passed the test because Berit nodded and stepped back. She motioned toward the door. “We should get to work.”
“We should.” Lauren stepped around Berit, feeling more than a little off balance. She spotted Cynthia by a back table and started that way.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Lauren froze at Berit’s question. For the past week, she had been on table duty with Monica, and she assumed today would be the same. “To check on tables?”
“Forget about tables. You’re behind the bar with me tonight.” Berit laughed at Lauren’s gaping mouth. “Like I said, it looks like it’ll be a slow night. I think tonight is a great night for a full bar shift, so you get a real feel of the flow back there.”
“I don’t think I’ll be much help back there,” Lauren said emphatically. She didn’t usually decline a boss’s request, but something told Lauren she needed to avoid Berit for the night, or at least until she stopped hearing Jennifer’s words. “I’m exhausted and really sluggish—body and mind. I’ll just be in your way.”
“Thank you for the warning. If I start to feel that way, I’ll send you out to the tables.” Berit made a sweeping gesture toward the bar with her arms. “But for now, I’d like to teach you a little bit about what I love to do and why.”
Lauren shook her head as she followed Berit. She walked around the bar and surveyed the interior of the Dollhouse. Berit was right, it was rather slow. Several small groups sat as close to the singer as possible, but the rest of the bar barely had occupants. Two women who weren’t together occupied the bar, paying more attention to their phones than anything else.
“Why do you love bartending so much?” Lauren asked before she could stop herself. She’d seen many people act passionate about their profession, but Berit was in a different class.
Berit pulled several shot glasses from under the bar. “I like to compare it to cooking. Chefs work with ingredients and try to come up with new recipes and presentations all the time.” She grabbed a bottle of rum and a cocktail shaker. “I do the same, but with cocktails. And with cocktails, your customer has a front row seat to a show.” Berit launched the shaker into the air, and it spun several times before she caught it upright on the back of her hand.
Lauren smiled in delight, still impressed with Berit’s skills and confident hands. She watched her flip the cup a few more times before saying, “I hope you don’t expect me to do anything like that.”
Lauren sucked in a breath when Berit grabbed her hand. She watched in a daze as Berit flattened it out, palm down, and felt along the length of each finger. The sensation traveled throughout her body. Berit placed the metal cup on the back of her hand and smiled triumphantly when it didn’t immediately topple off. “Pure luck,” Lauren said. She moved the cup and shook out her hands. Why did she feel dizzy all of a sudden?
“You really need to give yourself more credit.” Berit tossed Lauren the bottle of rum and laughed when she caught it awkwardly. “You have good reflexes. Pass that from hand to hand.”
“Like this?” Lauren passed the bottle from one palm to the other. The glass hung in the air for less than a second during each toss.
“Farther,” Berit said, her voice taking on a deeper tone. She leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. Her loose T-shirt clung to her shoulders, highlighting how broad she was.
Lauren wondered if Berit was a swimmer because her body was slight but solid, long and lean. She admired the way Berit carried herself and often caught herself wondering how dominant Berit could be. Lauren dropped the bottle, and it hit the floor with a loud thud. “Oh, my God. I’m sorry. I told you this was a bad idea.”
Berit picked up the bottle with a chuckle. “Do you have any idea how many bottles I dropped when I was starting out?” Berit grabbed a bottle of Svedka and handed the bottle of Bacardi back to Lauren. “A lot. I even paid for anything I broke. Which is why I made sure to get these,” she said, toeing the rubber flooring. “These are the top recommended rubber mats for bartending. Bottles and thick glasses are less likely to break when they’re dropped. Delicate glasses like martini and champagne are a different story. So let’s not throw any of those around.” Berit winked at Lauren.
In that brief moment, a butterfly rose from the dead deep in Lauren’s stomach.
Lauren cleared her throat and stared at the bottle of rum in her hands. She started tossing it back and forth again. “How long have you been doing this?”
“Since I could. Here,” Berit said with an extended hand. She motioned for Lauren to throw the bottle to her. She returned the bottle to Lauren a second after she caught it, initiating a game of catch between them. “I started as a barback when I turned eighteen and started mixing drinks as soon as they’d let me. Everything about bartending came naturally to me, and I knew this was what I wanted to do.” Berit must’ve noticed Lauren’s dominant hand was her left, because her next toss was to her right. The bottle bounced off Lauren’s palm and onto the floor.
Lauren was less apologetic this time. She picked up the bottle and kept up with the game. She grew determined to not drop the bottle again, for the sake of ego and to make Berit proud. Lauren tucked her left hand behind her back and shot Berit a challenging smirk. She caught the next one seamlessly.
Berit smiled brightly. “Impressive.”
“How many bars have you worked at?” Lauren was thirsty for all information regarding Berit, and it was neither professional nor innocent curiosity. The distraction of the flying bottle made it easier for Lauren to speak her mind and ask all the questions she’d normally be too shy or self-conscious to ask. “Were they all gay bars?”
Berit flipped the glass bottle before throwing it back to Lauren and nodding for her to try the same. “I’ve worked at three bars, all gay. I worked at the third one for the longest time and learned everything I could about alcohol’s flavor spectrum and flair.”
“Flair?”
“This,” Berit said as she threw the rum bottle high into the air, spun her body, and caught the bottle nozzle down in the metal mixing cup she grabbed from the bar in one smooth motion, “is flair.”
“Oh.” Lauren’s mouth remained in a small O.
Berit poured the rum from the cup into a shot glass. The liquid came exactly to the rim. “Relax. We’ll start slowly, and I’ll give you a little kit
to take home and practice with. Sometimes it’s easier to pick up without an audience. You’ll even get your very own Dollhouse pint glass.” Berit shot Lauren a proud smile. “Now I’m going to teach you how to pour multiple shots and how to mix one of your favorite drinks.”
“Which one?”
“The Dolly, also known as a Leg Spreader.” Berit laughed loudly when Lauren dropped the bottle again.
“Dammit.” Lauren picked up the bottle, placed it on the bar, and backed away with her hands up. “I get why you stick to calling it the Dolly.”
“I put a spin on the original recipe, so it truly is a Dollhouse original, and a secret recipe.” Berit arranged the four shot glasses on the bar. “We use one- and two-ounce shot glasses here, but we stick to the one-ounce for mixing. It makes counting your measurements easier. One, two, three, four—that’s all you’ll need to know.” Lauren eyed her skeptically. “A four-count pour fills a one-ounce shot glass. Got it?”
“Uh, sure.”
Berit started counting again, this time pouring a darker liquid into another shot glass. On the count of four, the glass was full. “This shot happens to be one of my top fantasies.” Lauren didn’t want to know and she didn’t ask, but Berit answered with a smirk anyway. “Twin sisters.”
“You’re disgusting,” Lauren said, pushing at Berit’s shoulder. She pulled her hand back quickly and swallowed hard. The desire to touch Berit again was overwhelming and unexpected.
Berit’s eyes remained on Lauren’s, and she grinned wickedly. “I’m just kidding. I’d prefer to be able to tell them apart. Things could get awkward otherwise.” She grabbed a small can of Coca-Cola from a mini fridge under the bar and a small pitcher of lime juice.