Attractions of the Heart

by Cheri Crystal

  “What do I have to do to be bad?” I asked, blatantly admiring her top.

  “Huh?” Melanie followed my gaze. “Oh, that. You’re a bad girl for staring at my tits.”

  “I was reading your shirt. You can’t wear stuff like that and then be pissed when people look.”

  “You’re still in trouble.”

  “Goody, can I pick the punishment?”

  “Cut it out. You’re a terrible tease. Know that?” There was that smirk again, but the mischievous twinkle in her eyes told a-whole-nother story.

  “Shall we grab a burger before or after I beat the pants off you in…?” I stopped, “…you didn’t say what game we’re going to play.”

  “Let’s see what looks good.” Melanie took my hand, which was not an unusual gesture, but this time her touch scorched my palm. My patience to touch her all over was wearing thinner by the second.

  I quickened the pace and she kept up with me.

  The carnival was already in full swing. All the familiar sights, sounds and smells didn’t register in my already overloaded senses as much as the musky perfume Melanie always wore. The fragrance was somehow more alluring today. I let go of her hand and ran for the ring toss.

  “Nah, for babies,” she said.

  “What about the water gun duck shoot?”

  “Too easy.”

  “You’re impossible to please and you know it.”

  She grinned. But then I saw her looking over to the Test Your Strength booth and figured I was a goner if she thought I stood a chance of out-muscling her. I groaned and she laughed at me. “I’m not sadistic.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Good thing.”

  We’d hit every booth until she found something better. “Okay, this is it.”

  “Rock climbing?” I gulped. “How is this fair?

  “You’ve always wanted to get over your fear of heights since you couldn’t get to the top of the rope in sixth grade.”

  “Thanks for reminding me. I can still hear Jackie Hyena laughing.”

  “Jackie Henning?”

  “If the Hyena fits…” I shielded the sun with my hand and watched as a little kid shouted down to his mother from all the way up to…I didn’t want to think of where. His huge, triumphant grin made me want to smack him. “Can’t we pick something else?”

  “No, this or nothing.” Melanie loved to boss me around. “Wuss.”

  That did it! She was not getting away with that crack. Yet the thought of dangling at twenty-feet above sea level nearly made me lose my lunch...“Okay, smart-ass. Move out of my way.” I strode past her and got in a line long enough to have a trillion second thoughts. We both had a lot to lose, but somehow her dilemma overshadowed my irrational fear of certain death if I climbed that wall. Melanie worked in her dad’s car dealership. She was destined to own the company. But first she’d have to earn it. The only time anyone saw the real woman behind the armor was when her folks weren’t around to scrutinize her every move. I didn’t blame her for being cautious, but damn, when she stepped by my side and the blond hairs on her arm tickled mine, I declared, “Listen. If I reach the top, then you’re doing as I say.”

  “And what do I get if you don’t?” she challenged.

  “Same thing. If you want to play big brother, or be chicken shit when it comes to taking the next step, fine.”

  She forcefully exhaled. Impermeable to her moods, I closed in and whispered, my voice thick with emotion, “What makes you so sure daddy will disown you if he finds out his perfect little girl likes girls?”

  Melanie angrily crossed her arms to stop the minute tremor only a close friend would notice." Because I've known the man my whole life." She balled her hands into tight fists of fury, which didn't deter me.

  “It’s your prerogative, but you’re not going to get a chance to think about that. Tonight, I’m going all the way.” I stepped up with all the bravado I could muster.

  The closer I got to doom, the more I wished I hadn’t eaten that hot dog for lunch. It didn’t taste as good coming up. I swallowed hard. There were three walls and spotters at the bottom of each. The colorful fake rocks didn’t look like it would support a flea let alone me. My heart pounded out of my chest to the beat of music from other rides. “Got any Valium?”

  Melanie laughed smugly.

  “Oh, shut up.” I gathered up whatever ovaries I could but it wasn’t doing a damn bit of good.

  It didn’t help that the ticket taker was a cute femme eyeing Melanie with a lustful stare. “My friend here will go first, right, Jordan?”

  “Huh?” I hadn’t been paying attention. “You can go first.”

  “No, ladies first.”

  Okay, I wanted this very badly right? Right? All I had to do was get to the top and Melanie would have to do whatever I said. Piece of cake. Not!

  She pushed me forward. “Go on.” It would take more than a gentle push to get me there. How about a shove? A loaded gun? I had visions of being at my own funeral.

  I walked up to the guy adjusting the harness and realized that this skinny kid was going to be my belayer. Ready to bolt, I turned to Melanie, but she blocked the exit. “I don’t want this guy controlling my ropes. Can’t you do it?”

  The femme with the annoying squeak butted in, “It’s against carnie rules.” She gloated and winked at Melanie. I was this close to rearranging her pretty face.

  “Fuck it! Here goes.” I let the kid get me ready and ignored Melanie’s harness joke as I adjusted the leather straps around my pelvis. Nothing was funny at the moment.

  If I had thought climbing to the top of a rope in gym class was scary, this was terrifying. But I had to have my way and so as sure as my will, I took it one step at a time. I glanced at Melanie and she gave me two thumbs up, but after that, I couldn’t look down.

  For being out of shape and scared shitless, I really surprised myself. At almost the halfway mark, I heard Melanie’s whistle and reached for the next stone. My foot grazed it, but didn’t catch. The sudden lurch made my brain fuzzy, and I panicked. Desperately, I tried to hold it together, except the harder I tried, the more I fumbled. Where was that damn rock? I scraped my knee and the sting paled compared to the pain in my chest. The tightening harness made me short of breath. Pictures of Melanie’s lips beneath mine flashed before me. And goddamnit, I wanted her so bad, and she had to want me, too. I was going to do this if I had to dig my nails in stone.

  She was afraid of her parent’s reaction or us getting hurt if it didn’t work out. But if I could show her how far I was willing to go, maybe I could get her to relinquish her fears. I had no idea what to do about the possible loss of her job and inheritance, but I was sure that together we could overcome any adversity. I would have been more confident if my shoes had magnets, but the ache of knowing what I wanted most in the world was stronger than any magnetic force. My foot caught hold and I advanced up the rock. Somehow it didn’t seem insurmountable when I thought of Melanie’s strengths, how she looked out for me and me for her, and how our love was unconditional, like family, only I wanted more. I was ready to take the plunge again, and this time I had the best girl for the job. I trusted Melanie implicitly. I just had to reach for the next rock. This time my foot made instant contact.

  A chorus of, “Go, Jordan, Go!” echoed all around me. It wasn’t that bad if I kept focused on the spot in front of my face.

  Through shouts and whistles, cheers and hoots, I had made it to the top and hung on for dear life, almost too paralyzed to rejoice about my accomplishment. But, I was at once satisfied that I finally did it. Then I remembered that I had to get down too. Cripes, this was impossible, but I wanted to claim my prize and forgot about everything else. By the time I got within spitting distance of Melanie, I was in her arms. It was all worth it when she flashed me the brightest smile ever. She was proud of me, yeah, but way cooler than that was being proud of myself and realizing I was about to get my wish. I thanked my belayer and apologized for having little faith. He understood an
d congratulated me just the same.

  “So, name your prize.”

  “You.” I stepped in and she planted a huge, wet victory kiss on my thirsty lips. Success tasted sweeter than I could have hoped.

  At ten o’clock that evening, the sky exploded in bouquets of colorful lights in time with the musical accompaniment, showing off its beauty for the world to see. The crowd had quieted to watch the fireworks. It seemed, at least from where I stood, that Melanie and I should boldly display the beauty of our love too. We had both battled our fears that day, and we deserved to celebrate publicly. The night was perfect in every way. It was as if we were the only two lovers alive. I took her hand and led her into the woods behind the field. We hadn’t gotten very far, frantically groping each other as if there were only minutes left to live and we had to get it all in.

  “Stop,” she said, despite her voice thick with need.

  I was about to sulk, but she lifted me up against a tree. Her musk mingled with pine, leaves, and soil as I kissed her face, her hair, and her lips. I wanted to swallow her whole.

  Her breath caressed my cheek and her hands ignited my skin. “You drive me crazy, but let’s not rush it.” She lifted my shirt and unhooked my bra.

  “You drive me crazy, too.”

  She teased my nipples, hard as pebbles, between her fingers.

  I’d spent years dreaming about this moment and now that it was here, I bit my lower lip. “Wait or I’ll come too quick.” I tried to take my mind off my raging hormones, my panties already slick from her touch, but I could have more easily climbed Mount Everest.

  I tore at her shirt and her small breasts fit neatly in my palms. She moaned as I played each one. Seeing Melanie naked while she changed clothes did not prepare me for taking her bare flesh beneath my tongue and tasting. She was good to the core. I wanted all of her and I would go to any lengths to give her all of me.

  “I love you Mel, so much.”

  “Me too, Jor.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “Right now, I don’t care.”

  From that moment on, we wasted no time getting completely naked with the moon and the stars as our only light. We’d already wasted precious years denying the obvious and delaying the inevitable.

  Melanie pulled me closer by my hips. Our breasts, bellies and thighs completed the puzzle. Her thigh soon shimmered with my juices. Her finger found what I needed and she pinched my tender flesh, circling in and out of my wet depths until I screamed for more. She placed her hand over my mouth to muffle the sound. I could taste my arousal dripping from her fingers.

  “Please, Mel, please fuck me.” I was so hot for her. It seemed the forest was closing in around my need. I held my breath as she entered me all the while thumbing me close, but not quite to climax. She must have felt how hard I was for her, how wet, how open, because she thrust her fingers inside until I begged for mercy. Only then did she give me exactly what I wanted, what I longed for and what I needed most—all of her in me, and a part of me forever more. She was my best friend when we got to the fair, but she was my best girl when we left.

  I took my chances and I’ve never regretted it. We’ve since moved away from her intolerant family and we’re making it quite nicely on our own. It’s been the best years of my life, and Melanie shows me every day and in every way that she has no regrets, either. We own and operate the famous Melanie Jordan Resort, the best bed and breakfast and health spa in Massachusetts. At least we, and the women and their partners, who book with us year after year, think so. Love, true love, has a way of making anything and everything possible. But if we didn’t take the chance, we’d have never known.

  Melanie, honey, if you’re reading this, I love you with all my heart, mind, body and soul. You are my everything. Happy Anniversary, Darling!

  DOES THE BUTCH COME WITH THE RECIPE?

  When a softball team votes to publish a butch cookbook as their next fundraiser, the team’s captain, Cyndy Kaplan, gets more recipes than she knows what to do with. Particularly from the team’s sweetheart, a luscious femme named Tristan Rizzo. How is Cyndy supposed to ignore her hunger when Tristan is waving delectable treats in front of her face all the time? Is she tough enough to resist Tristan’s charms? Find out in “Does the Butch Come With the Recipe?” and see for yourself.

  Summer league softball. Tristan Rizzo in hot pants up to her pupik. Lots of beer, pizza, and one game away from the play-offs. What more could a dyke want?

  Once upon a time that was all Cyndy Kaplan wanted, but something had changed, and she’d be damned if she knew what. Restless, she shifted from side to side, poised on the mound eager to throw her next pitch. In the distance, partially obstructed from view, a car peeled out of the parking lot. The only reason she’d noticed at all was because Tristan appeared through a cloud of smoke carrying three pizza pies in the crook of an outstretched arm while supporting a large oil-slicked bag under her chin. The aroma of garlic, pepperoni, and parmesan wafted past Cyndy’s nose, but she intended to ignore the rumblings in her stomach. And elsewhere. Without fail, Lucy Travers, dubbed ‘Lucky’ for her record-breaking bedroom scores, moved right in for the kill.

  “Here, little lady, let me help you with that.”

  “What’s with the food? Practice isn’t over yet,” Cyndy scolded, but her gaze fell upon Tristan’s cleavage the moment Lucky rescued the boxes.

  “Aw, Kap, come on. We’ve been at it for hours,” shouted Angie Benson, who’d downed half a box of Crispy Creams before sauntering to the outfield. Any slower and she’d need a bus ticket to home plate. “We need sustenance.”

  “It’ll get cold.” Tristan flashed a dazzling smile to beat all tooth whitening ads.

  “All right. Fifteen minutes.”

  They all scurried over to Tristan as Cyndy watched her lay out paper plates and napkins on a nearby picnic bench. She dragged over the ice chest filled with drinks and joined her team. With one cleated foot propped on the seat, Cyndy leaned on her bent knee, determined to get a grip on her limited patience. She cleared her throat for emphasis. “Listen up!” She waited until she had every set of eyes cast her way. With a perfectly proportioned figure, athletic limbs, and a strong handsome face, she was short of stature, but taller than average in personality. She could command a room the size of Giants Stadium. “We’ll need some serious funds if we’re going to take the whole team to Fort Lauderdale for the playoffs. Any ideas, ladies?”

  A low rumbling among the teammates signified their devotion and respect for their fearless leader. From the time she could walk, Cyndy stood out in a crowd. She was one kickass, take-charge Aries and nothing was beyond her reach. If she had a tender side, one would have to dig deep through forty years of layers to find it.

  The sky darkened without warning, leaving little time to seek shelter in their cars. It would be hot and stuffy in the dugout, but at least they’d be off the wet, windy field. Within minutes, an electric storm raged around the women huddled over their lunch.

  “Dugout! Now!”

  Once gathered with food and drink in hand, Cyndy seized the opportunity to brainstorm. She stood expectantly and downed a can of iced tea while her teammates found seats. “Fundraising ideas. Anyone?”

  Tristan Rizzo waved her softball cap in the air, releasing lustrous brunette curls that bounced around the hollow of her neck, just above her ample breasts before looping around the back just below her shoulders. Her radiant hair spoke volumes, but her formidable ass attracted a second glance. Cyndy wouldn’t mind a piece of that, but it was out of the question. Despite what little willpower she had left, she found herself sneaking a peek up Tristan’s leg cuffs. Just to be sure, she looked again, but didn’t get so much as a glimpse of underwear. Walking past a bakery window filled with pastries during an obligatory twenty-four hour fast was easier than diverting her concentration away from Tristan’s fitted V-neck titty-shirt. Her cleavage was tough enough to miss, but spying the faint outline of areolas through jersey over white
lace made Cyndy drool. Tristan was all woman despite a rare juvenile display like a kid waiting to be called on in class.

  “You need a pass to the little girls’ room, Tris?” She chuckled at her own joke and everyone joined in.

  The unflustered femme exuded the sex appeal of a Playboy centerfold. Tristan appeared fragile, but looks lied. She played a tough game with everything she had, and the benefits, besides her exquisite female form in motion, distracted her opponents into lowering their guard. It was hard to stay focused in her company. Cyndy forced her mind back to the discussion. “Go on, Tristan, enlighten us.”

  “I know. How about we sell candy bars?”

  “We’re a softball team. Not a bunch of cheerleaders.” She hadn’t meant to sound gruff, but next to pitching softballs, teasing Tristan was her favorite sport. “Any other ideas?”

  “Car wash?” said the outfielder.

  “Charge admission?” Lucky’s deep voice reverberated in the dugout.

  “Against the rules,” Cyndy said.

  Tristan hunched a bit, but stood when Cyndy was about to call on someone else, as if she was their teacher. The fact that the team was made up of grown women, some of whom worked in business, didn’t mean they wanted the responsibility and administrative duties that Cyndy took on for the team. “Tristan, say it, Sweetie, before you burst.”

  “How about we put together a cookbook?” Her wide grin exposed even, white teeth and her green eyes shimmered when a flash of light illuminated her face. Cyndy didn’t know many women with smoother skin and naturally thicker eyelashes who didn’t use a tube of face paint.

  The others laughed out loud, which irritated Cyndy to no end. She patted the air with her palms until everyone settled down. “Who is going to buy our cookbooks? The PTA?” More guffaws.