by E. J. Noyes
“Valid points, but I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.” Sabine shot a pointed look at my hand. To keep her happy and appease her ridiculous paranoia about cigarettes spontaneously reigniting, I rinsed the butt under the running faucet then put it in the trash.
We settled back onto the couch, me a little sloppier than her, and I refreshed my glass. The bottle was down almost two inches—one and three quarters of which were mine while Sabs was still working on her first drink. I was starting to feel mercifully intoxicated. Goodbye, problems. At least temporarily.
“Don’t lesbians dislike women who aren’t full lesbians?” I asked around a mouthful of cracker and dip.
“Maybe some do. But I also think women who love women love women who love women.” Sabs burst into laughter. “Sorry, that was dumb.”
“Heh. No it wasn’t. But I’m pretty sure I’m not quite at the love stage. Not sure what stage I’m at except maybe the how the hell do I do this stage.”
“Why are you so hung up on the whats and hows? I say just dive in. Literally and figuratively. ’Cause you know, muff diving.” She snorted, clearly pleased with herself.
“Thanks.”
Sabine set her glass on the coffee table and squeezed my leg. “Jannie, listen. The only way you’re going to know is if you talk to her about it.”
“I hate it when you’re logical,” I mumbled. Aware of my drunken mumbling, I did the only thing I could. I swallowed another mouthful.
“I know. It’s a flaw,” she said nonchalantly. “Look, she’ll either decline or accept, but I’m pretty sure it’ll be the latter. Or you can try and pretend this isn’t happening and be miserable with your what-ifs for the rest of your life.”
I was well beyond pretending it wasn’t happening. I threw my head back and covered my face with my hands. “Ugh!”
“Are you worried about the actual sex part?” The question was part amused and part concerned.
Letting my hands drop, I admitted, “Yes. Very.”
“Nothing to it.” Sabine smiled, almost to herself. “Just think about what you like and try that to start with.”
That wasn’t really helping. I knew how to fuck, clearly not another woman, but I certainly wasn’t a novice at the ins and outs of sex, and I knew what I enjoyed. But I felt like I needed some explicit instructions about what I was supposed to do, assuming Brooke and I ever got to that point. I was getting way ahead of myself. The shower fantasy came back in glorious detail. Oh boy, did I want to get ahead of myself. “Can’t you just tell me what to do?”
“You’re my sister. I’m sorry but I can’t help you. Waaay too weird. Hang on.” Sabine hopped up and went straight to one of their bookshelves. Moving her finger over the spines of books, she extracted a worn and torn book and brought it back.
I turned the book over. “The Joy of Lesbian Sex…”
“Oh it’s very joyful.” Sabine’s grin grew wider until she couldn’t contain it anymore and she burst into peals of laughter. Her glee leached into her words. “Okay, so this book is more for laughs than anything but you have to read it.”
“How old is this thing?”
“Came out in the seventies? You’ll learn more if you just look on the Internet, Jannie, but this book is practically a rite of passage. Promise me you’ll read it.”
I dropped the book onto the coffee table. “You’re so cruel. Don’t you have anything that came out more recently than the decade we were born? Or better yet, a step-by-step how-to guide?”
“As I said, Google is your friend, or watch some porn if you must. But good lesbian porn, not stuff made for straight men.” I opened my mouth to ask, but Sabine cut me off with a firm, “No. You can’t borrow ours. How many times do I have to say it’s too weird.”
By the time we, or rather me mostly, had drunk almost a third of the bottle, we’d moved on to topics other than my possible one-woman lesbianism. Unsurprisingly, The Ceremony featured heavily.
“I’m about to be married, and maaaybe you’re about to be married,” Sabs drawled.
I choked on a mouthful of my cheese and dip combo. “Dial it back a bit. For now I think I just want comfortable companionship.”
“Companionship is good. I like it very much.”
“Yeah…I think it will be. I like her a lot.” Now that I was really digging into my attraction to Brooke, so many things had become clearer. “Maybe I’ve been holding out because I’ve always done everything you did, Sabs. The horses and your sports and then moving to D.C. because I couldn’t stand being away from you. Do you think maybe I was ignoring liking women thinking it was admiring them or whatever it was, because I assumed it was just me wanting to be like you again? I dunno.”
“It’s not about that, Jannie. Do you really think it matters if we both like the same things? Even women?”
“Naw, I guess not.”
“Even with all we’ve done together, all the stuff you’ve followed me with, you’ve always marched to your own beat.”
“Mmph. Think I need to march upstairs.” I rolled over and slid off the couch, managing to land on my knees instead of puddling to the floor. Seven out of ten drunk. Oh I was going to regret this. “Come on, the sooner we go to sleep the sooner I can wake up with a hangover. When’s Bec home?”
“Probably around nine, assuming nothing comes in at the end of her shift.”
“Will you sleep in my bed with me?” I mumbled, the epitome of pathetic. When we were younger we’d often cuddle in bed when we were upset. When she was recovering and Bec was still in Afghanistan, Sabs would wake up screaming and I’d hold her and soothe her until she’d fall into uneasy sleep again. Then I’d lie there, making sure she was okay for the rest of the night, imagining I was protecting her from whatever was in her head trying to harm her. Now, all I wanted was sisterly comfort.
“Course.”
Sabine forced me to drink two glasses of water and swallow some ibuprofen before we giggled and I wobbled my way upstairs. She left another large glass of water on the bedside table and a bucket on the floor.
“Puh-leeease. I’m so not near puking stage.” The water and bucket made me think of Brooke’s sweet migraine care and a sudden rush of longing made me desperate to see her. Bad idea. It’s late, you’re drunk, you’ll say and do stupid shit. I swapped my top for a tee then stripped down to my underwear, pulling my bra off under the shirt and whisking it through one of the armholes. “Ta-dah!”
“Oh you’re going to be so sorry in the morning,” was the only response I got to my magic act. She made me brush my teeth and drink yet another glass of water before letting me go to bed.
Sabs had pulled on one of Bec’s tees to sleep in and it smelled like her. I poked her arm. “I love Bec and she always smells nice and is very attractive, but I don’t want to kiss her.”
My sister rolled over to face me. “I’m glad. Because she’s my fiancée.”
“I also think Jennifer Lopez is pretty hot, but I’ve never thought about kissing her either. That painting of the nude woman downstairs? It does nothing for me. I mean it’s a nice piece of art, but it doesn’t make me hot. Women in porn, nada. I look at women and I think they have a great haircut, or dress stylishly or have enviable legs or tight abs at the gym but I don’t want to kiss them. It’s just Brooke.”
“Mhmm, so you’ve told me. Multiple times tonight.”
Stupid whiskey repeats. “Because it’s true! I just want to kiss Brooke!”
“Just Brooke, and just kissing?” Sabs asked, all sly innocence.
“Well, I uh…um…” Again, I thought of my orgasm in the shower and how I’d climaxed with the image of Brooke between my legs, her hot tongue making laps around my clit. Her fingers pumping inside me. I ran a little further with it and pictured her nipples in my mouth and my hands on her skin. A flash of arousal made my cheeks heat and my stomach clench tightly.
Sabine laughed quietly. “Judging by that response and the look on your face, I’d say you’ve thought abo
ut a lot more than kissing, Jannie.”
“Yeah.” I pulled the pillow over my face and groaned into it.
“Chill out. You’re attracted to her, big deal. Like I said, sometimes that’s the way it goes, you can just be gay for one person. It happens.”
Yanking the pillow off my face I sat up again. My head spun. “Are you really sure it’s okay? You’re not just saying it to make me feel better?”
“Sure it’s okay.” Sabine patted my shoulder. “I think you should worry less about labeling it, and just go with what you feel.” She rolled over and turned off the bedside light.
“But I like labels.” Though less uptight than Sabine, I still like a little bit of organization and order.
Sabine kicked and fussed into a comfortable position. “Fine, if you want a label, then maybe you’re bisexual.”
“Maybe…but for the millionth time, I don’t feel like this with anyone else.”
“Then maybe you’re Brooke-sexual.” She sniggered and I could tell she was pleased with herself.
“I think I am.” I snuggled into her, desperate for comfort. “What if I’m no good at it? What if I don’t like it?”
She slung an arm around my shoulders. “You like orgasms right?” Sabs asked, her voice dropping into the low, almost-slurred drawl I knew meant I had about three minutes until she was asleep.
“Well, yeah. Of course I do.”
“Then I’m sure you’ll be fine, but if you don’t like it then it’s no big deal.” A long pause and a muffled chuckle. “In either case, I’m sure Brooke will be willing to help you figure it out. Over and over and over again.”
Chapter Nineteen
Sabine and Rebecca’s quiet talking dragged me from a crappy, uneasy sleep. Why oh why had I not learned yet that I was too old to do excessive booze?
Bec sounded utterly beat as she spouted a bunch of acronyms. “Multiple MVAs with two DOAs, a motorcyclist with a BKA, and I lost one to GSW. Got really busy after midnight, I haven’t slept.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, honey. Are you all right?” The sound of a kiss, then more quiet murmurs I couldn’t make out.
“What’s this about? Everyone okay?”
“Yeah it’s fine, she’s just kinda confused about Brooke. Romantically.”
A long pause. “Really? Oh wow.”
“Mhmm. I’ll fill you in…”
When I fully opened my eyes something stabbed my eyeballs right through into my brain. Ah, crap. Squinting, I took in the scene. Rebecca sat on the side of the bed, still murmuring to Sabine as she stroked her cheek with a thumb. Sabs held Bec’s free hand, their fingers entwined.
Bec looked up, her sweet smile coming easily. “This was a pleasant surprise, coming home to two beautiful women in my house this morning.” Her thumb moved up to brush over Sabine’s eyebrow. “Two beautiful hungover women by the look of you both, and the bottle downstairs.”
Sabs protested quietly that Bec was wrong and she wasn’t hungover, just tired. Bec wasn’t wrong about me though. A persistent throbbing had taken up inside my skull but my stomach seemed okay. I stretched, kneeing Sabine in the back. “Morning, Bec. Bad night at work?”
“I’ve had better.” Bec ran her hand through Sabine’s hair. “I’m going to take a shower then we can have breakfast? I assume it’ll be something fried and greasy for you, Jana?” Bec grinned, then slipped out of the room.
Sabine sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, glancing over her shoulder at me. “Jannie, get out of bed and put coffee on. I’m going to join my fiancée.”
“Sure. So, and I’m only asking for research purposes, how long roughly should lesbian shower sex go for?”
Sabine tossed a pillow at me. “We’ll be downstairs in twenty minutes.”
Hmm, not bad…
I rolled clumsily out of bed. Oh, wait. On second thought, stomach is not all that okay. Not in puking is imminent mode, but definitely on the queasy end of the scale. I made my way carefully downstairs, ignored Titus who was trying to convince me a half-full bowl of kibble was a cat catastrophe, and started the coffee machine.
I was nursing an untouched cup when they came down after only fifteen minutes, arms wrapped around each other’s waists. Sabs snorted. “You look like absolute shit on a stick, Jana.”
“Go away,” I mumbled. “Can you get me something for this god-awful headache please? And something for my nausea would be really awesome.”
“Ibuprofen, yes. Pepto, no. You feel sick for a reason, and if it wants to come out, it should so it’s not poisoning your system.”
I bent forward to rest my cheek on my folded arms so I could look at her. “Shut up, Doctor Fleischer. I don’t want a medical lecture. I want sympathy and something to make it better. And it was whiskey, not poison.”
“An abundance of whiskey, so yeah…kinda like poison.” She looked exceedingly smug and if I hadn’t felt so crappy, I’d have been able to come up with a retort. As it was, I barely managed a grunt.
Bec laughed softly. “Don’t be cruel, darling.” She dropped a single slice of bread into the toaster then caressed Sabine’s cheek, following up with a light kiss. “Go get your sister something to help her feel better.”
Sabine did as Bec had said, but I could hear her grumbling and tried to tell her all the way up the stairs. I straightened up, staring into my coffee until Sabs came back with some Pepto chewables and a bottle of ibuprofen, which, along with a glass of ice water, she set on the table within my reach.
“Thank you, mean bitch.”
“You’re welcome, idiot who thinks she knows better than to listen to her big sister.” She kissed the top of my head, gently massaged my shoulders and moved into the kitchen.
As quickly as I could with slightly shaky hands, I palmed the pills into my mouth, swallowing with the water Sabs had so thoughtfully provided.
Bec placed a plate with a single slice of dry toast in front of me. “Here, sweetie. Try chewing slowly on that.”
“Thank you.”
Bec lingered. “So. Crush on a woman.”
“Mmm.”
She slung an arm around my shoulders, pulling me against her. “Welcome to the club.” Her fingers combed soothingly through my hair.
I relaxed into her. “When do I get my membership card?”
“Filled in your forms? Nominated your sponsors? Listed at least three k.d. lang songs?”
Despite the general malaise I felt—fuck you, booze—I couldn’t help laughing. “I adore you.”
“Well that’s good because I adore you too.” Bec kissed my forehead then sat down opposite.
“So you’ve made up your mind, Jannie?” Sabs asked from her position at the counter.
“Mhmm, I’ve decided fuck it, I’m going to go for it and tell her. Why not, right?”
“Don’t you mean, fuck her?” she quipped.
“Ha-ha. What I mean is, clearly I’m feeling something for her that goes beyond friendship and teeters right into lust or desire or whatever the hell you want to call it. Why fight against that? I mean, yeah I’m a little nervous but it’s not like it’s repugnant or anything.”
“Gee, thanks,” Sabs said dryly.
There was nothing to throw except a magazine resting on the kitchen table, and in my pathetic state it barely made it two feet. “You know what I mean, you ass.”
Bec interrupted our bickering with, “How’s that toast going down, Jana?”
I made a so-so gesture.
“Good. Now what can I make you two to eat?” Bec started to rise, the movement slow and halting in the way of the truly exhausted.
Sabine sidestepped quickly around the counter as if to block her. “Babe, no, you don’t have to cook breakfast for us, especially not for Whiny Whineface over there. You’ve been at work all night. We’ll do it.” She glanced back at me, hunched over my untouched mug of coffee and still working on my now-cold dry toast. “On second thought…I’ll do it myself.”
They engaged in some bac
k-and-forth about who should prepare breakfast, indulged in some kissing and giggling, and I tuned them out to keep staring into my mug. Right, so…choice made, time to put the Brooke plan into action. I couldn’t deny the twinge of anxiety but more than anything, I felt excited. It was either going to be the start of something amazing, or possibly the end of a great friendship.
No pressure at all.
Chapter Twenty
Mercifully, after some strategic moping on my couch, my hangover dissipated around two in the afternoon. After a gentle late lunch and a shower I felt human enough to tackle the issue at hand. Brooke.
I sent her a quick message asking if she was free and if so, could I come around. Brooke responded to my text within minutes, letting me know she was indeed home and to come on over whenever. Emoji, emoji xx. Oh help.
I showered, brushed my teeth twice and trawled through my closet for something that said, “I’ve just realized that I like you and do you find me hot?” Eventually I just pulled on linen shorts, a sleeveless blouse, and casual sandals. Good enough. Chill, Jana, it’s Brooke. Brooke who has seen you in court clothes, work clothes, old sweats, and pretty much every fashion combo in between. Including only underwear.
The whole twenty-minute drive, I rehearsed what I wanted to say, discarding what I’d decided upon, and then starting again. Brooke must have heard me, because I’d barely made it up the front steps when she pulled the door open. After our usual hellos and a quick—too quick—hug she ushered me inside and to the couch. There was no trace of the weirdness from the conversation we’d had in my kitchen the previous afternoon when she said, “I would have thought you’d be sick of me after yesterday.”
“Not at all.” And judging by the way things were going, not any time soon either. “How’re you feeling after the big win?”
“On top of the world, thinking I need to start looking for sponsors, building up my athlete image and all that.” Grinning, Brooke rummaged in the fridge and pulled out two bottles of Sierra Nevada. “Beer?”
“Ugggh, no thanks.” Just the thought of alcohol made my throat work convulsively and I had to draw in a few slow breaths to get myself under control again. “Long soul-searching night with whiskey. I’m still feeling a little delicate and a booze-free week is definitely in the cards. Maybe even a booze-free month.”
