Girl Love Happens : Season One

by T. B. Markinson

  We clinked glasses, and I took a cautious sip of wine. I had to drive us back to Alfrid after seeing Les Mis. Bernie’s dad had scored us free box seat tickets and arranged for a limo to pick us up outside the restaurant.

  “So, Tegan, what’d you threaten Gemma with?” Jenny’s crooked smile showed amusement.

  “Not much. Just no sex.” I peered across the table at Jenny, whose jaw dangled open.

  “Ouch!” Jenny snapped her fingers.

  “Oh, don’t withhold sex. Make her work for it. Have you read the novel Exit to Eden?” Bernie shifted in her seat, crossing her right leg and revealing a provocative slit up the side that had escaped my attention when she’d approached the table. Where did she think she was? On the TV show Melrose Place?

  I tapped newly manicured nails against the side of my wineglass. “Exit to Eden? No, that doesn’t ring a bell.”

  Bernie leaned close. “Are you into exploring? Sexually, that is?”

  Um, I was dating a woman, or had she not noticed?

  “In what way?” I asked, trying to control my snippiness. Why did Bernie remind me so much of Darla? Was it their I’m older and know everything so pay attention, rube airs?

  “You know. Dominatrix. Submissives. Sex slaves.” She rattled each off while waving a flippant hand in the air as if this was normal dinnertime banter. “I’ll lend you my copy.”

  The overly-gelled waiter appeared with his lecherous grin firmly affixed. “Are you ready to order?”

  Gem, true to her Nebraskan roots, ordered a sixteen-ounce rib eye. I got the coconut-crusted fried tiger shrimp. Jenny selected fish and chips, which I was sure was listed on the kid’s menu. Bernie put us all to shame by requesting the Chilean sea bass with a miso glaze.

  “May I recommend a Chablis for the sea bass?” The waiter held his pen expectantly to add the item to the ticket.

  “Ooooh… yes!” Bernie fluttered her lashes.

  “Very good.” The dude left without making drink recommendations for the rest of us. What went with fish and chips and fried shrimp, though? Beer?

  “He seems to like you.” I smiled innocently.

  “Jimmie? He’s harmless.” She shrugged off my insinuation.

  “You know him?” My voice cracked.

  “I come here often with my parents,” she confessed with a hint of embarrassment, clueing me in that she wasn’t always in charge. I tried picturing Scott Baio’s head on her shoulders á la Bernice in Charge.

  “Bern’s dad is the governor’s chief of staff,” Jenny tossed out as she buttered a piece of bread. “We had lunch with him earlier today.”

  Bernie scratched the back of her neck, staring down into her drink. Did Miss Perfect have family troubles like the rest of us? Did her parents aim too high for Little Miss Sophistication?

  “Do you plan to go into politics?” Gemma placed a hand on my inner thigh, making my skin tingle. Bernie was right about one thing. I shouldn’t withhold sex. I slipped my hand into Gem’s, enjoying the way she laced her fingers through mine.

  “Good question. I’m applying to law schools, but I’m thinking I’ll follow in Mom’s footsteps. Be a judge.”

  A politician and a judge for parents. No wonder she knew everything. How had she ended up at Hill University and not Harvard? Surely a story there, but Gemma’s nails digging into my palm made it clear tonight wasn’t the night to ask. Bernie was picking up the check after all. When she invited us, she had been crystal clear this evening was her treat. I’d never seen a musical before. My family was the bowling alley type, and the closest Gem got to Broadway were high school productions she had reviewed for the local paper because no one else would write about them. Jenny, shocking the hell out of me, loved the theater, and she and her mother had had season tickets since Jenny was a seventh grader. One thing college had taught me so far was not to judge a book by its cover. More and more, I realized the need to reprogram my brain. Of course, it might take a thousand reminders when around Bernie.

  “You won’t mind lending me your copy of Exit to Eden? I’m curious.” I glommed onto my wineglass for liquid courage.

  Gemma cleared her throat.

  Bernie straightened in her chair. “I’ll pop by tomorrow. It’ll be a fun, not to mention an incredibly sexy, diversion for when you need a break from cramming for finals.”

  Jenny elbowed Gem. “You don’t know what you’re in for.” She followed that with a suggestive wink.

  The following day, I popped into the library to buy a study guide provided by my professor at the copy center. While I found it slightly absurd the material cost a buck—seriously, was the prof that hard up for dough?—and questioned the legality, I sincerely enjoyed learning about nutrition.

  The center was in the basement, in the heart of the fiction classified by the Dewey Decimal System. After my transaction, I found myself wandering through the aisles, browsing the spines of books. While I didn’t want to admit it, my eyes were seeking the novel Bernie had suggested. Something about Eden. Had Mr. Dewey broken out erotica when devising his classification?

  A computer sat in the corner. I plopped into one of the desk chairs, wiggled the mouse to wake the computer, and typed Eden into the search bar.

  “Holy moly,” I whispered. There were hundreds of references including the word Eden. Clearly, I had to simplify the search, but I couldn’t will my fingers to tap the pertinent keys to spell porn. No, erotica.

  I peeked over my right shoulder. Then my left. Assured that I had the dimly lit corner in the basement to myself, with one eye closed, my right index finger hunted and pecked the correct letters on the keyboard. After submitting the new request, I held my breath, fearful alarms would blare and someone over the loud speaker would shout, “Alert! Alert! A student is looking for porn!”

  More titles appeared on the screen, but a cursory glance made it clear I still wasn’t successful.

  I sighed.

  “Having trouble?”

  I whipped my head around and nearly fell out of my chair when my eyes laser locked onto Bernie’s as they squinted to see the results of my search.

  Placing a hand on my heart, I whispered, “You scared the shit out of me.” Casually, I clicked on the new search option with the mouse, erasing my previous efforts.

  Bernie perched on the edge of the desk, sitting much too close for my liking. She rooted in her mom-like purse. “I was on my way over to drop this off.” Bernie fanned the pages of the book, miming it was scorching hot, before dropping it into my lap.

  I snatched it up. Low and behold, I now had my greedy paws on the book I’d been trying to find in the library as if Hill University had been founded by Dr. Ruth. “Thanks.”

  “Doing research?” she asked.

  “What? No. Why?”

  She tilted her head, her forehead furrowing in confusion.

  I realized she wasn’t referring to the novel she’d lent me, but was questioning why I was searching titles on the computer. “Oh, that. Not really. I lost my history textbook, and I was hoping the library had a copy. No such luck,” I fibbed.

  “That sucks and right before finals. What class are you in?” She leaned back on the heels of her hands, giving me a different view of her curves.

  I averted my eyes to my lap. “US.”

  “I took Western Civ, but I may know someone in your class. You want me to make a few calls?” Her body sprung upright, her cleavage practically smooshed into my face.

  “Nah.” I waved, scooting my chair back. “I have my notes. I think I can manage. Thanks, though.”

  She took a notebook out of her bag and scrawled her digits on a blank page. Ripping the page out, she said, “If you change your mind, give me a call. Call me whenever.” Bernie stared at me intently as if expecting me to say something. When I didn’t, she stood. “I better get going. My study group only has a room for a couple of hours.”

  I nodded, wondering why she was acting weird. “I should get home. Good luck with finals.”

&n
bsp; She leaned down and hugged me. “You, too.”

  Bernie disappeared into the room off to the right, and I ducked behind a stack of books. “What a freak?” Says the girl searching for erotica in the library.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was five minutes after noon on the first Saturday in May, but Gemma and I still lazed in bed, snuggled under her thick Husker’s bedspread. Madonna’s “Vogue” played on the radio.

  “I wish we had room service.” With the tip of my nose, I outlined the butterfly tattoo on Gem’s breast.

  “Tell me what you want, and I’ll sneak it out of the cafeteria.” She started to get up, but I yanked her back under the covers.

  “No! Stay and keep me warm. I hate that they turned off the heat in the building just because it’s springtime.”

  She laughed. “It’s supposed to be seventy today. Although it’s probably only in the forties now, and the brick walls don’t help with insulation. If you put your footie pajamas on, you’d be toasty warm. Nothing says sexy like footie jammies.” She poked my side.

  “I’d rather use you.”

  “Use me?” Gemma’s brows waggled.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I don’t.” She rolled on top of me and plucked some hair off my cheek. “Explain it to me.”

  “Can I show you instead?” I rested a finger on her lips.

  She playfully bit it and growled. “What if I want to be the one to use you?” She widened her lovely Irish green eyes.

  I spread out my arms and went limp under her naked body. “I’m your prisoner. Do with me what you will.”

  Her knee separated my legs. “I see you’ve been doing your Exit to Eden homework, given to you by Mistress Bernie.”

  I lifted my head off the pillow to see her face clearly. “Really? You’re bringing up Bernie right now?”

  Gemma gazed into my eyes, somewhat shocked by my tone. “Why do you dislike her?”

  “I don’t dislike her.” I scoffed.

  Gem nestled my chin with her hand. “Teeg.”

  I couldn’t or wouldn’t explain that Bernie reminded me of Darla. The hurt still blazed inside. Besides, Gem would point out I was acting irrationally, which I’d already recognized.

  “I don’t like how she makes me feel. Like a hayseed right off the farm.”

  I avoided Gem’s thoughtful eyes, a feat considering her face was front and center. I’d witnessed on more than one occasion how Bernie had a soothing effect on everyone else.

  “Shouldn’t I feel like the hayseed? I’m the one from a small town. You grew up in a suburb of Denver,” she joked, but the smile fell off her face when she met my teary eyes. “Oh, Tegan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything. Please don’t cry.”

  I blotted my eyes with the sheet. “I know. I’m not upset with you.”

  She cradled me in her arms. “I wish you’d stop putting so much pressure on yourself. No one expects anything from you.”

  I snorted. “Thanks.”

  “That came out wrong. I mean all I want from you is for you to be yourself.”

  “This is me. I’m Spazzy Tegan.” I giggled and burbled through the tears.

  “I, for one, love Spazzy Tegan.” She kissed my forehead. “Even when wiping out in a fancy restaurant.” She sang the restaurant line from Sinead O’Conner’s song “Nothing Compares 2 U.”

  “No, not that song. Not after you listened to it on repeat after the Walt Hill debacle.”

  “But it’s a good song. Don’t let that ruin it for you.” She smiled weakly, understanding she was on thin ice for once. It had taken several weeks for her to fully apologize for overreacting to the Erik situation, and I’d done everything to prevent reigniting her jealousy. Her fear of being left for a man again skated under the surface. I squished my eyes shut. That conversation was for a different day.

  “Do you wish I was more like Bernie?”

  Gemma flinched. “W-what?”

  “Do you wish I was more sophisticated? Shit, even Jenny, the Frisbee golf fanatic, has season tickets to the theater. Until Thursday, I’d never stepped foot inside a theater that didn’t sell popcorn.”

  Gemma propped her head up on her elbow. “And you think that matters to me?” She traced circles on my chest.

  Hi, I’m Tegan, and I constantly need confirmation from my girlfriend.

  “I’m nothing like your mother. When I say I don’t have any expectations of you, I mean it. I don’t expect you to graduate at the top of your class. I don’t expect you to become filthy rich. I don’t expect you to exceed in all aspects of life.”

  “Ha! She doesn’t expect the best from me. She thinks I’m going to fall flat on my face. Mom’s banking on that.”

  “Which is one of the reasons you push yourself to be perfect. I don’t want perfect. All I want is to be with you, warts and all.”

  “I don’t have any war—”

  Gemma captured my lips with hers, simultaneously silencing my neurotic mind and kindling my sex drive.

  “On your stomach,” she commanded, taking charge of the opportunity. “You need a massage. You’re stiff as a board and might break in half in the slightest breeze.”

  “Yes,” I whimpered and did as instructed, suppressing a smile. There were some perks to being a nervous Nellie when it came to being Gem’s girlfriend.

  Gemma kneaded my shoulders with her strong hands. “You want to know something about Bernie?”

  I suppressed a groan, enjoying her hands on me.

  “Her parents think she’s going through a phase and that once she graduates, she’ll find a nice young man and settle down.”

  “She’s halfway there with Jenny.”

  Gemma spanked my bare butt. “Don’t make me punish you.” Her voice was devoid of a real threat.

  “You wouldn’t dare!” I said, wondering if I’d like it. I had only leafed through some of the pages in Bernie’s book. I had so much to learn in the sexual exploration field.

  Gemma’s body lowered onto mine, erect nipples gouging my back. She peppered my shoulders with kisses and then, out of the blue, bit my neck hard, but not so hard I didn’t like it. Gemma raked my side with her nails.

  My breath involuntarily hitched. “That’s my punishment? I like it.”

  Gemma took note and sunk her teeth into my neck again, almost vampire-like. Would there be a mark? That’d be a first, but the thought wasn’t upsetting. Shit, I never understood the fascination with vampire stories, but if any of the books described this sinful joy, sign me the fuck up. Except for the actual ingesting blood—ewww.

  “Kiss me,” she said with more force than expected.

  I swiveled my neck as much as my muscles allowed to meet her request. She nibbled on my lip before her tongue forced its way in, staking claim. Right when I thought she had sated her desire, she upped the passion and force. Her hand separated me below, and Gemma slid inside. I wasn’t expecting her to penetrate so soon, but my body tightened around the invasion.

  She hammered in and out, breathing heavily. Having the majority of her weight on top of my backside as she fucked me from behind with a fury I hadn’t experienced before brought me to a whole new level of sexual frenzy.

  “Gemma, I’m so close—”

  She slowed her fingers.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Slowing things down.”

  “Why?” I tried to suck her fingers deep inside me so I wouldn’t lose the sensation.

  “Because I like making love to you and we have all day.”

  She was sweet, no doubt, but at the moment I didn’t want sweet Gemma. I wanted to be fucked. Hard.

  “Please, don’t stop. Not now.”

  She chuckled in my ear. “Are you begging?”

  I looked over my shoulder. “Do I have to?”

  Her eyes sparkled. “It might help your cause.” She kissed my cheek innocently, as if unaware of my frustration.

  I growled. “Please, don’t stop. I want you to fuck me.�
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  “Hmmm, methinks I have the upper hand.” She laid her head down on my back.

  “Upper hand?”

  Oddly, the stalling made me want her more, and I sensed my face and tone plainly showed she indeed possessed the winning poker hand.

  Sure enough, she picked up on it—she’d have to be a moron not to. “What am I going to do with you?” she asked.

  I shook my head, laughing. “I’ve been telling you what I want. Do I need to get on my knees and beg?”

  She blinked, unsure. “I’d never—”

  Not letting her finish, I shimmied out from underneath, flopped onto the carpet, and placed my hands together. “Please, I want you to make me come.”

  Gemma swung her legs over the side of the bed, glorious red bush and cha-cha spread before me. She tried maneuvering me back onto the mattress, but I honed in on the shimmering border of her pussy. The effort caused my tongue to slide out, swiping my lips. I wanted a taste. Fuck, I wanted more than that. And from the glistening proof, so did she. “I think I have a new idea.” I gestured to her engorged sex in dire need of attention.

  Gemma slowly panned downward, widening her legs. “You like what you see?”

  “Oh, yes, I do.”

  “Then you can’t have it.” She fastened her legs shut, but her voice was losing its edge.

  Oh fuck no. It was time to turn the tables on Gemma’s teasing antics.

  I shook my head and then wrenched her legs apart. Gem didn’t push my mouth away, instead she gripped my head with both hands. “You naughty, naughty girl.”

  I might have been naughty, but I was also on cloud nine. From Gemma’s tensed muscles and moans, she was right there with me.

  My tongue dove in, wanting to explore her love channel, inside and out. I stretched my tongue as far as it would go, swirling as if licking a lollypop. Gemma’s lollypop.

  I glimpsed Gem, head slumping back as far as humanly possible, supporting her upper body with locked arms behind her, carroty mane almost reaching the sheets.

  I dove in once more, before replacing my tongue with two eager fingers, pumping slowly, burrowing inside her warmth. Gemma’s muscles tightened around me, giving my mouth free rein to skim over her lips.