Painted Moon

by Karin Kallmaker

  Leah shuddered, and pulled Constance's mouth to her breasts. She'd been ready for this since Jackie... unfair, unfair, she reminded herself. This is Constance, the first woman to touch you since Sharla. The only woman to touch you besides Sharla.

  Constance. Leah gave herself up completely. She urged Constance inside her with slow undulations of her hips. She held Constance's mouth hard against her breasts, encouraging tender bites.

  Constance held her tightly, her fingers stroking Leah's urgent need. "Come on," she whispered fiercely into Leah's breasts. "Come on."

  Leah went rigid —too much sensation, too much pleasure. Another stroke inside her, then another and her body jerked, giving way to Constance's demand. Piercing yellow danced behind her clenched eyelids, mixed with waves of crimson and hyacinth. She cried out as she sank into Constance's waiting arms, then sobbed, "Oh God," into Constance's shoulder.

  "Okay, it's okay," Constance whispered in her ear. "I'm sorry I went in so fast like that."

  "No, no, don't be," Leah gasped. She shuddered again and managed to get a hold of her emotions. "I'd forgotten it could feel so good."

  "It's been a long time for you," Constance said soothingly. "Let's get comfortable and take it slow."

  Leah shook her head. "I don't want to go slow."

  She rolled onto her side and unzipped Constance's slacks. Constance had beautiful legs — firm and lightly tanned. A birthmark graced the inner curve of one thigh, spoiling the perfection and making them that much more alluring.

  Constance opened her legs and Leah settled between them. She nipped gently at the smooth lines where hip met thigh.

  "Don't tease me," Constance suddenly whimpered. "Lee, I've waited too long."

  The taste of Constance was like amber, like topaz. Musky, not sweet, heady, somehow dark. Leah swept her tongue inside, seeking deeply for Constance's essence and felt hands pressing her in. She fought the pressure and finally came up for air, then dove again into the depths of Constance's passion. Her pleasure at loving Constance intensified to rich sable. The brush of Constance's hair was soft as mink against her forehead.

  When Constance finally pushed her away, Leah could only think how unlike Sharla, who had tasted of carmine, fuchsia and claret. Unbidden, still steeped in the scent of Constance, she wondered what Jackie tasted of. Then she mentally kicked herself for longing after a woman she'd never see again.

  Constance came to her, her mouth hungry, and Leah gave up all thoughts of Sharla and Jackie. Tomorrow she might think of them again, but tonight belonged to Constance. She would feel guilty for using her tomorrow. But that was tomorrow.

  She opened herself to Constance's loving attention.

  Leah awoke to hear Constance muttering loudly about the "damned inconvenience" as she made her way down the ladder.

  Her voice gravelly, she called out, "You get used to it."

  "It's a good thing I don't have to pee urgently. I'd never make it, between the ladder and the fact that it's freezing in here." Feet thudded on the floor and Butch barked.

  Leah sat up. It was after noon, and she hadn't fed Butch when she'd gotten up earlier in the morning. The house was cold, but this morning all that had been on her mind was a quick trip to the bathroom, brushing her teeth and then scrambling back into bed with Constance.

  A dam had broken within her, and she knew that the bitter despair of losing Sharla was receding. She could still close her eyes and long for Sharla, hear her voice, imagine she smelled her. But the memories of their love were growing into a comforting blanket she could pull close when she needed the warmth. She still carried the regret and guilt of Sharla's drowning — maybe she'd never be rid of that. But Jackie had started her on the road to her future, and Constance had pushed Leah from a crawl to overdrive.

  Butch made her feelings very plain as Leah scooped out food and set it down. The wounded, accusing glare from the expressive brown eyes moved Leah to defrost some of Jackie's turkey broth and spoon it over the kibble. Butch wolfed it down and then retired to the front of the kitchen stove, her nose in the air. Leah stoked up the stove and was finally rewarded with the thump of a tail on the floor.

  She saw to the stove in the living room and then slipped into the bathroom as soon as Constance emerged from it, all pink from a shower and wrapped in Leah's robe.

  She hurried through her shower and pulled on clean sweats. She caught her reflection for a moment in the fogged mirror. She wiped away the mist and stared at herself intently. Her lips had more color, her eyes were warm, the brown almost a dancing bronze.

  She no longer looked like death. Sharla, oh my love. She blinked back the beginning of tears and saw her lips curve in a gentle smile.

  Constance was huddled on the couch. "When does it get warm?"

  "Very soon," Leah said. "I'm starving. I think it's time for lunch."

  "Me too." Constance said. "All that activity," she added with a smirk.

  Leah grinned. "You know, I'll bet the winds are still pretty high over at Kirkwood."

  Constance lowered her gaze demurely. "You're probably right. It would be a waste to drive over there to SOOa. Perhaps you should stay over another night."

  "Perhaps I should," Constance said. The robe slipped open to frame Constance's alluring décolletage.

  She looked up at Leah through her light brown lashes. "I suppose you wouldn't take advantage of a poor maiden, now would you?"

  Leah laughed wickedly. "I was planning to."

  "Well, good," Constance said. She reclined on the couch, letting the robe fall open. "But you've got to warm it up in here. Or cover me with something. Preferably yourself."

  It was no hardship to pull a half-naked Constance into her arms. For a while they pretended Leah was only trying to keep Constance's breasts out of the cold, and then that Leah was only trying to warm her hands between Constance's thighs. Then they were beyond pretense.

  8

  A sunny, winter day in the Bay Area meant sixty degrees and the temptation to put the top down on the MG. The fresh air would clear her head and Jackie needed her wits if she was going to talk to Parker honestly about their relationship. Her thick head was the result of having had a bit too much wine, dinner and dessert with Mary the night before.

  After agreeing that she only had to work through the following Friday, Mannings had proceeded to load her with so much work she’d had to cancel last weekend with Parker. She hadn't made much of a fuss — she knew she also needed the time to work out what her feelings toward Leah meant. He had accepted her call with distracted resignation. His easy acceptance left her even more unsettled. After she hung up she realized he hadn't asked her why she was so busy.

  Each time she had sent another CAD layout to the massive rendering printer she spent the minutes waiting for her screen to rebuild and thinking long and hard about Leah. And sex. And Parker. And commitment.

  She had concluded that being cooped up in a cabin with someone could make anyone think they were attracted to that person. And everyone had sexual impulses. Yes, she was almost certain that the moments with Leah had been a fluke.

  She would have felt better except for the "almost."

  However she might have felt toward Leah or might feel toward women in the future had nothing to do with her feelings for Parker. With far more certainty she felt that he did indeed take her for granted. And she was sure her feelings did not have the strength to last a lifetime. Her parents' example had taught her to expect nothing less. She didn't know where that left her, but she did know that something between her and Parker needed to change. Either they would get stronger and tighter, which seemed unlikely, or break apart completely — and that idea scared her.

  She put her energy into appreciating the beauty of the day. The Junipero Serra freeway was one of the loveliest in the entire area — it made the drives to San Jose bearable. The muted gold of the grass-covered hills and gray-green leaves of the eucalyptus trees glimmered in the brilliant golden sunshine. The sky was achingly b
lue. Abruptly she wondered what Leah would make of the light and color.

  She tried getting angry with herself for reopening a topic she had decided to put aside, but her heart wasn't in it. So she made herself think about Parker.

  What would she say to him? All her resolution faded away and she mentally kicked herself. Did she or didn't she want to end it with him?

  What did she want, anyway?

  Leah flickered into her thoughts. It's like this between women...

  She stopped at the grocery store and bought some soda and muffins. She stood for a long time in front of the condoms, then reluctantly added a packet to her basket. She recognized that she was steeling herself for the prospect of having sex with Parker. Maybe everything would be all right if she did. Everything would go back to normal.

  In front of the juice boxes she realized what she had told herself. That she felt abnormal. She had twisted her impulses until unwillingly having sex with Parker seemed normal while going blissfully and easily to Leah's bed was wrong.

  She paid for the groceries and sat numbly in her car. If not for Leah, then how long might she have gone not recognizing her sexual desires? After she got married? Should she be glad it hadn't come to that? To have to leave someone because they were fundamentally the wrong partner? After she had children? Children... yes, she wanted to be a mother. As good a mother as her own had been. The world needed good parents.

  Pieces of her life slipped into place. Finally, a whole emerged that made sense. If she wanted children, then she must want sex with men — that had been the false theory that had made her ignore what might have been with Kelly and look to Parker for her future.

  A half-hour slipped away, then nearly another as she coped with the secret she'd uncovered. She pulled at the idea from all sides and it stayed intact. She was suspicious of it — it was too easy an answer. But it fit. It explained the choices she'd made the way nothing else did. She hadn't moved across the country for love, but to keep the choice of having a family open.

  Stupid. She felt so stupid. She remembered now a billboard she'd seen in San Francisco featuring two women, one with her hand on the other's swelling tummy. The caption had said something about family values. She had thought it very San Francisco and cool. Inside she had felt confused and sad. Now she knew why. They'd figured out something she hadn't. Lesbians were around her everywhere, women with babies, sperm banks, ads for gay parent support groups — she'd seen it all and been absolutely oblivious about what it could mean for her.

  Well now she'd seen what it could mean. She'd certainly taken her time, too.

  She left the groceries in the car and went to Parker's apartment, unlocking the door with the key she'd already removed from her ring. He wasn't home yet. It was the matter of a few minutes' work to pack up the belongings that had accumulated in his place into a couple of grocery sacks. When they had moved out from Boston and needed to furnish two places they'd done most of the arguing about what belonged to whom. She could look back now and see that it had been the beginning of the end.

  She carried the bags down to her car, then went back to the apartment to wait. She tried to think of what she would say, but nothing brilliant occurred to her.

  His key in the lock startled her heart into her throat. The brief moment in which he smiled at her across the room gave her a shock. She had not known how she would feel when she saw him. She wondered if she had ever deeply loved him. No, she was beyond wondering. She knew that she had not.

  But she hadn't expected to feel this way. As he crossed the room she remembered that he had an engaging laugh, and she saw once again that he was lean and attractive in a bookish, sleepy way. She was beset with memories of good, fun times. The museums they had prowled through together, the picnics and hikes, the moments of passion when she had been satisfied in his arms.

  She deliberately made herself think of Leah. It's like this between women... The shudder in her stomach put her feelings for Parker into perspective. She didn't want to hurt him but it was over.

  "Howdy, stranger." He dropped a friendly kiss on her cheek, then set his satchel and keys on the couch. He brushed his blond-brown hair out of his eyes. She opened her mouth to chide him about getting it cut, then stopped herself. She noticed he looked tired and pale — normally she would also chide him about not getting enough sleep or the right food. "How's it going?"

  A deceptively simple question. Say something, she told herself, you're in your head too much. "Very strangely," she finally managed. She wouldn't do him any favors if she tried to lead up to tilings gently. "There are lots of things going on for me right now."

  He nodded distractedly and then — deliberately, she realized — didn't look her in the eye.

  For the first time she considered that maybe she wasn't the only one not entirely happy with the way their relationship was going. For a moment she felt something between jealousy and betrayal.

  "I have a new job."

  He did glance at her then. "Yeah? How'd that happen?" He sank onto the couch, but he didn't look comfortable.

  Jackie sat down in the armchair and succinctly explained. He congratulated her and appeared to be listening, but his gaze was everywhere but on her while she talked. When her story trailed to an end he rambled about his software project, but bis thoughts were disjointed, as though he couldn't concentrate. He sounded like she had while describing her new job. As though he didn't want to tell her too much because he didn't want her to be too interested. It suddenly seemed to her that neither of them was investing energy into something they both knew was dead.

  They sat in silence for a few moments and Jackie fought against the overwhelming feeling of sadness in the pit of her stomach. Then Parker suddenly sat up and began talking to her instead of around her.

  "I've been thinking." He slowly slid onto one elbow and leaned heavily on the arm of the couch. "Have you given any thought to where we're going? Us, I mean."

  Perhaps a year ago she might have thought Parker was beginning a proposal of marriage. "Yes I have." She stared at his fingers, recalling his touch on her. Should she feel revolted? She didn't — she just recognized that he didn't move her to the heights she now suspected existed. "We don't seem to have any... sizzle left," she said finally.

  Parker heaved a sigh of relief. Jackie thought it needn't have been quite so heartfelt. "I know what you mean," he said.

  She straightened her spine and took a deep breath. "Let's not drag it out, okay? The regrets I have were all my own doing."

  He stared down at the coffee table and Jackie saw his lower lashes dampen. "I'm sorry," he said.

  She reached across the gap between them and covered his hands with her own. "Don't be. I think we can say it's mutual. I... I came to a decision before I got here today. I've already gathered my things. I'm sorry too."

  "Is there someone else?"

  It's like this between women... Her heart thumped hollowly as she answered. "No one particular person. But I've —"

  "There is for me. I feel real bad about it. I... we went out for the first time last weekend and something happened and I couldn't lie to you. You're too fine for that. I just can't... I can't be with you again. I want to be with her." His regret came through strongly. She sensed he was telling her the truth. She knew that he needn't have told her anything and was glad of his honesty. It called for honesty from her in return.

  "It's okay. I think..." Jackie swallowed then continued. 'I think we both knew it was ending and it opened our eyes to new possibilities. I hope she is everything you need."

  'I hope you find happiness too." He squeezed her hands.

  Jackie realized that she could avoid telling him she was attracted to women. She could slide out of his life and he could never know. But what if he found out later? Would he think something stupid, like that he had made her turn gay? And in the end maybe she didn't care what he knew and didn't know, but she cared how she felt about herself. He'd been honest with her. Besides, if she couldn't tell P
arker she would have trouble telling other people.

  Not telling anyone didn't occur to her.

  "I do have something I feel I should tell you." She released his hands and sat back in her chair. "I want you to know the whole truth. I think I... I prefer women. I think I'm a lesbian."

  He stared at her blankly for a long moment, then pulled his hands away. Then he blinked and shook his head. He paled, then flooded with color all along his forehead and cheekbones. "What?"

  "I think I'm a lesbian." She said it without a quiver.

  "You think you're a... you think you like women in bed? Have you... you know?"

  She shook her head. "But near enough to realize I've been blind to some feelings I've always had."

  "Was I that bad in bed?" He sounded lost and hurt.

  "No. I knew you'd think that," she said, her tone growing more acerbic. "It's not about you. It's about what I feel. I enjoyed what we did in bed." It was a little white lie because she hadn't always wanted to have sex when he did. She promised herself that faking passion would go the way of the condoms.

  "Then why? I just don't understand." There — that was the Parker she had known lately. His chin was out and he was sure she had wronged him. He had looked just that way when she had suggested that he might be able to afford their last trip to the movies. But, no, they always went fifty-fifty, he'd said. Their relationship was equal, he'd said.

  "Why are you in love with someone else? Why does anyone prefer sex the way they do? There's a million ways to do it, and a million ways I haven't even thought of. All I know is that when I go looking for someone to be in my life I'll be looking for a woman." She patted his hands again but he slid them out from under hers. "I hope... I hope you can still wish me happiness."

  His mouth twisted in an ugly grimace. "I can hope you come to your senses."

  "Don't be a jerk," she said sharply. "I can hope you're happy."

  "I will be. It's normal, after all."

  Jackie opened her mouth to argue, then snapped it closed. She didn't know what to say. She was ill-prepared to argue the virtues of a lifestyle she hadn't even tried yet. She gave him The Look — it was the best she could do on short notice.