by Terry Brewer
Paula, that woman, stared out. The only sound was the rustling of the water and the diesel engine’s gurgle as the ferry made its way south. Paula, that woman, began to cry. Connie kissed her on the cheek.
“If you can promise me that,” she said, “I will be with you forever.”
“Connie. I am so fucked up. How can you trust…believe me?”
“Paula, we’re all fucked up in our own ways. This may not be the most romantic proposal in the world but I don’t give a shit about where you’ve been. I only care about where we are going.” The ferry was approaching the North Haven dock. “Just say ‘yes’ so I at least can be happy driving off this thing.”
And Paula whispered “yes” and Connie said “I can’t hear you over the engine” and Paula shouted “Yes I will marry you” and several people looked in their direction until they scurried to the car giggling, and they drove off the ferry. It was as if they had landed in a new world. Which they had.
Saturday: The LIE (Long Island Expressway)
It was still early afternoon when they got back to the house. En route, they talked about it, and called Angela and Nicole and Sherrie and Tracy and Michelle and Maggie and told them they had good news and asked if they could come out on Saturday morning. All but Maggie could come. They would be in Sag by noon.
On Saturday, Connie stood in the kitchen thinking of the imminent arrival of their friends. Her fiancée was upstairs as she looked out through the French doors with her black coffee, leaning against the center island. It was a contentment she never felt before. She knew there would be rough spots and certain things had to be handled delicately. But her vacant gaze saw the future that she always hoped to have.
She felt hands encircling her. Then the fingers of one of those hands were rubbing her pussy. She was wearing a long t-shirt and nothing else and the fingers knew where they were going and what they were doing. Connie groaned. Suddenly she was very wet and her feet spread to give Paula easier access. She gasped when she felt the strap-on rub through her folds and said, “Please baby, fuck the shit out of me” as her legs spread wider and she moved her coffee aside so she could lean down across the counter.
Now it was Paula doing the teasing, and Connie’s right hand shot back trying to corral Paula and bring her closer. And Paula did move closer and the head of the dildo entered Connie and Connie’s breath started getting short. They could be seen through the French doors but only their clothed upper bodies, the island otherwise shielding them, and someone watching could figure out what they were doing but could not see what they were doing. Which was just getting both of them hotter. And soon the full length of the dildo was in Connie and Paula held it. They both liked that.
“Baby,” Connie moaned, “I am so lucky to have you” and she couldn’t resist adding “And to have you in me.” At that, her fiancée began to rock in and almost-out, in and almost-out and they found the rhythm and after a barrage of “shit”s and “fuck”s Connie came as she had never come before, her torso collapsing on the counter for just a moment. As Paula pulled out Connie turned, ripping the harness off and ramming her fingers into the other’s pussy. Two. Three. Four and they were cupped inside and Connie rocked her wrist as Paula pushed her against the island for leverage until she was momentarily still before her orgasm crossed her body like a wave, causing her to shake again and again until it was over and she, leaning against her fiancée, was completely spent.
A glance at the clock told them both that the five girls would be there within an hour and after Paula grabbed coffee for herself and they each had a slice of toast they raced around to put things in order, including showers—separately.
Angela and Nicole piled into the back-seat with Michelle when Sherrie and Tracy’s Volvo wagon picked them up in Astoria. A day in the Hamptons! Swimsuits packed in the rear with a huge, and full, picnic-basket and a case with two whites, two reds, and two champagnes, NPR on the radio.
The five, of course, knew what the “good news” was and after a series of hug-hug/kiss-kiss, they played along and acted Shocked! Shocked! when they were formally told. After a gawking trip among the houses in East Hampton—several of which Sherrie and Tracy admitted having been in—the seven sat on Connie’s deck until it got dark and they went inside where they watched and mocked a movie until they could no longer keep their eyes open and scurried off to bed.
July: Two Weddings
On a warm Thursday morning in mid-July, four women in white dresses swiped their MetroCards at a subway stop in Astoria and climbed to the elevated platform. Forty-five minutes later the four emerged and walked less than a quarter-mile to the County Clerk’s Office in Kew Garden, Queens.
The four made this trip two days before to obtain their marriage licenses, and the twenty-four-hour waiting period—just to be sure—expired and they were back. They agreed that Angela and Nicole would get married first and the other two would be their witnesses. After the ceremonies were completed and each bride had kissed each other bride, the four walked to a nearby coffee shop and had lunch.
July: And A Party
It was a badly kept secret. It was the type of secret that spread like wildfire through the group.
The two couples met at about 8:15 at Ethel’s. It was still light out, and the place was unusually quiet for a Saturday night in July. Sure, lots of regulars headed to the country or the Hamptons for weekends, but there were only five or six women in the whole place. No one recognized any of them. Maggie wasn’t even there.
They wouldn’t admit it, but each of the brides was a bit disappointed that they couldn’t spring their marriages on everyone. They sat forlornly at their table, glancing at the door each of the few times it opened. Nothing. After a half-hour of this, Nicole said how lame things were, and they decided to pay the bill and leave.
“Good night ladies” Mandy, the bartender who filled in now and then, said.
Of course, it was like a fucking surprise party when they got to the sidewalk. The regulars, even many who normally would be out in Southampton, were on the sidewalk, out of sight from the bar’s windows. Angela was the first to spot them, tapping Nicole’s shoulder who clued the other two in.
After congratulations were offered on the sidewalk, even by innocent passersby who had no idea what they were congratulating the four for, the whole group returned to Ethel’s where Maggie was holding court and a buffet spread was set up and Angela & Nicole and Paula & Connie got the wedding-reception they deserved, one that lasted well into Sunday morning and those four crashed when they stumbled to Sherrie and Tracy’s loft at about two, Sherrie admonishing them: “No sex, please, we’re married.”
Part 3: Michelle & Val
Everyone Else Is So Fucking Happy
Michelle Steele was drunk. Everyone else was so fucking happy and she’d just been dumped. So she was entitled to get herself drunk on this particular Saturday night in September. She sat in one of the tables along the wall and friends were on either side of her. They were protecting her and allowing her to get it out of her system. They got her watered-down drinks at the bar and kept watch over the door to see if Val, always Val, came in.
Those friends were Sally Abbott and Eve Young and they were decidedly among the so-fucking-happy people Michelle knew. Married even. They knew Michelle from the bar well enough to chat for a few minutes when they saw her. They happened to be there when Michelle started on her bender and volunteered to chaperone her.
Michelle was from Albany and worked at an ad agency in midtown Manhattan. She blossomed after she arrived in the City and discovered the freedom of being a lesbian away from home. She had yet to tell her folks though her brother and sister knew she was gay. Michelle’s parents were oblivious to her orientation since to them she was always the pretty girl destined for a handsome husband.
Michelle had relationships with several women in college, usually tall and playing a sport, and when she got to New York she lusted after similar women at Ethel’s, on the subway, and pretty much e
verywhere else. The relationship that just blew up lasted three months. It was with Val Daniels. They’d met at Ethel’s, and Michelle was immediately attracted to her. Val was a bit taller than Michelle. Val was Michelle’s dream of a woman whose arms she wanted to be in.
It was another Saturday night, this one in June, when Val saw Michelle ogling her as she had many times before. But this time, Michelle’s look lingered with a barely-noticeable smile before she turned to go to the Ladies room. Val followed her in. It was otherwise empty, and Val stood behind the shorter woman at the sinks, where she was waiting. Their eyes meeting in the mirror.
It was a cheesy pickup line but it worked.
“Are you alone?”
Michelle put her arms behind her back and drew Val towards her. It thrilled her. She turned quickly. She put her arms around Val’s shoulders and Val put hers around Michelle’s waist and just like that they were kissing deeply. Till the door opened.
Val pulled Michelle through the door and back into and then through the bar, giving Michelle only enough time to grab her bag and say goodbye to the women she was with—who looked at each other as she left. In an instant, they were out on the street. It was late spring, and warm enough not to need a coat or a sweater. Val pushed Michelle against the wall of a building around the corner and devoured her mouth, first nibbling on the lower lip and then circumnavigating and lancing her tongue into a desperate mouth. It brought feelings to Michelle never knew existed.
Michelle had never gone to bed with anyone unless there was some connection. She worried: what would happen if it didn’t work out. She needed a connection. It was there with Val.
“Please take me somewhere.” It was a hoarse whisper with lips caressing Val’s ear lobe. She’d never said nor had the urge to say it before in such a moment.
Val put her arm up and a cab screeched to a stop at the curb, and the two women got in. It took them to a small apartment in the East Village, on the third floor of a walkup. Decorum ruled on the way, and they did no more than hold hands. As they left the cab and went up the stoop.
“I’m Michelle.”
“I know. It’s Val. Just Val.”
“I know. I’ve heard all about you.”
“And yet here you are.”
“Here I am.”
Val took her keys out and opened the door. Before it was shut, Michelle had taken her dress off above her head. She was embarrassed for a second; she had not expected to take her dress off in front of someone that night and so wore simple cotton panties and a basic bra. She blushed, aware that there was a growing stain on her panties.
Val kissed her on her neck, running her tongue in small circles then whispering, “You are glorious.” She then undid her shirt and took off her jeans. There Michelle saw a strap-on in Val’s black boyshorts. Val was expecting something to happen that night.
She took Michelle into the bedroom and removed her underwear, sniffing the panties like a trophy as her eyes bore into Michelle’s until she licked her pussy for just a moment after Michelle was on her back. She reached for Val to move up.
“Ready?”
It had been a while. Michelle was at the receiving end of a strap-on several times in college and had extended one relationship for about a month after they both knew it was over simply to feel one in her pussy. But for all the dates she had in New York, none had reached this stage. Until tonight. Ready? She nodded.
Val slowly entered and the two found a rhythm. After several minutes, Michelle asked Val to stop so she could get on all fours and have Val enter her from behind. She had her elbows on the bed and the side of her face on the pillow as she was entered. The physical connection complemented the mental one that appeared in the Ladies room at Ethel’s.
Val enjoyed herself. She noticed Michelle several times and saw how her eyes often lingered on one or another of the butchier women at the bar. She was told by friends (and sometime rivals) that Michelle never clicked with any of them, and several dismissed her as a “frigid bitch.” Which was catnip for Val.
Now she was in the other woman, gyrating the dildo and reaching to rub the pearl of the clit until she made Michelle spasm and come. After a period of recovery, Michelle turned voracious and after Val let her take off the strap-on she attacked the damp pussy. It was the most magical thing she’d ever seen or tasted and when Val said, “Asshole,” she, for the first time, ran her finger across an anus and when she heard “In” she, for the first time, after wetting her middle finger with Val’s juices placed it in an asshole and Val burst, grabbing Michelle’s head so hard that Michelle feared she would drown in Val’s flood and not caring if she did.
After they both came down, they lay in the bed together on their backs and, after tidying themselves and preparing themselves in the bathroom, Michelle fell asleep on Val’s bed, with Val wrapping her arms around her.
From that evening on, the two were inseparable.
They complemented one another. Michelle, who shared an apartment on the Upper East Side with the very-straight Diane Volk, spent two or three nights during the week at Val’s and always Friday and Saturday. Val had a degree in Library Science and worked for the New York Public Library. She was comfortable from the start with her lover. They frequented Ethel’s on weekends as well as smaller bars in Val’s neighborhood.
One night while they were in bed, Michelle asked Val to take her on a date.
“I don’t do dates.”
“I know. That’s why I want you to take me. It’ll be nice.”
Val gave it a fair amount of thought over the next ten seconds. Dates always struck her as a sort of preliminary to the main event and she went straight to the main event with women.
“If I do, what do you want to do?”
“Dinner and a movie.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
Michelle leaned onto her right elbow, her head over Val’s.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” said as she ran her finger across Val’s cheek, something that at first aggravated the hell out of Val and that no one else had ever done but that had become strangely intimate and wholly natural between the two. She knew resistance was futile.
So Friday became a date night, and Val began to enjoy it. She liked that Michelle wanted to show her off, going to things. Movies. Galleries. Even bowling once. As often as not, Michelle told Val as they left whatever venue they’d been in, “thank you for that.”
Then everything broke. It began innocuously enough. Michelle’s parents were taking the train to the City for a few days when her roommate was visiting her folks in Colorado. The roommate, Diane, had no problem letting Michelle sleep in her bed so Michelle could give her parents hers. When Michelle told Val that they couldn’t see each other for a few days, it blew up when Michelle said Val could not meet her parents. They were together for three months, exclusive to one another, and Val could not meet her parents.
“They still don’t know.”
“What do you mean, ‘they still don’t know’?”
“About me.”
“You haven’t come out to them?”
“No. My brother and sister know. But I’ve never come up with the right time to tell them.”
“And what do they think you’re doing socially?”
“That I’m dating eligible guys.”
The two sat and talked it out. They were in Val’s small living/dining room on its small love-seat. Michelle would not see reason. She did not understand that it was something she had to do, damn the consequences. But she was afraid. Unlike, she thought, Val.
Michelle said, “Everyone knew what you were.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? That I was so obviously a butch that everyone understood that I was a fucking lesbian.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, but I guess that’s what I mean. Look at you.”
Val was silent.
“So I’m some type of freak, is that what you’re saying? That you’re here out of pity for me. Well, fuck you, Mic
helle. I like the way I am and I thought you liked the way—”
“Val, I do. I love the way you are. I love you.” Which, as it happens, was the first time she ever said that.
“You have a fucked-up way of telling me. But you can say it as much as you want, but the fact remains that you are too embarrassed to have your parents see you with me.”
“They’re just not ready. They’d freak out.”
“You’re twenty-five. If they can’t handle it now, when are they going to be able to handle it? Look. Until you figure out what to do, until you are confident enough in ‘us’ and comfortable enough about ‘us,’ I don’t think we have much to talk about. Just leave the keys when you go.”
And Val grabbed her own keys and walked out. Michelle was stunned. Had Val just broken up with her? After the three best months of Michelle’s life. Maybe of Val’s life too. Just leave the keys when you go.
Michelle fought the tears as she packed as much of her stuff as she could in a small suitcase, left the keys, and went down the steps of Val’s building. Val watched from down the block, and out of sight, as Michelle hailed a cab to get home, where she went straight to bed. Ignoring her roommate Diane’s questions.
Michelle zombied her way through the next two days at work. She came close to calling or texting Val a hundred times. She pined to hear Val’s ringtone. When she got home each night, she had a bowl of cereal before going to bed. She ignored Diane’s increasingly anxious questions. Diane, who knew quite a lot about Val and Michelle, knew Michelle had to speak to someone, but did not know who and couldn’t get her to open up. She saw Michelle look at her phone when it rang before rejecting call after call.
For Val’s part, she’d broken up with plenty of women, including women she was with for longer than she’d been with Michelle. It’d take a few weeks, but she’d get over it and so would Michelle. They all did. It was the way it was. Val would keep a low profile for a while. She’d had some rough moments with exes when she went to Ethel’s too soon and had, unfairly in her view, been labeled a love-em-and-leave-em type.