by M. Ullrich
“I was with a girl once who was a heavy-duty mouth breather, both in and out of the bedroom,” Maxine said with a shake of her head. “Imagine a leaf blower between your legs.” Clarissa laughed, and Genevieve found herself becoming irrationally annoyed at the beautiful sight. Why are the mean girls always so attractive?
Clarissa patted Maxine’s shoulder as she shuddered at the memory. “It couldn’t have been that bad, Max. If I’m ever with someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing, I just make sure I tell them exactly what I need them to do. I may come across bossy,” Clarissa said, waving her hand flippantly, “but I always come.”
“I always come,” Genevieve said under her breath, mocking Clarissa’s voice. She turned back to her work and sugary snack. Her pen had hit the paper for no more than two seconds before Clarissa asked her next question.
“What’s your signature move?”
“What makes you think I have a signature move?” Maxine said.
“You’ve been married for seventeen years! You have to have some tricks up your sleeve to keep things lively for that long.” Genevieve didn’t have to look at Clarissa to know she was wearing a salacious smile.
“Fine, but I swear to God, Clarissa, if you tell my wife I said any of this…” Genevieve drew closer. Clarissa must’ve nodded in agreement because Maxine started to whisper. “I wait a little while. You know, once the touching and caressing becomes too much and too little at the same time? Then…” Maxine’s voice dropped even more, but Genevieve needed to know. She’d like to bring this information back to Jeremy.
Genevieve leaned back in her chair, picking up the next bit of Maxine’s seduction techniques, but the wheels beneath her chair gave out and she fell backward onto the floor with a less-than-discreet squeal. She looked up into Maxine’s concerned, flushed face and Clarissa’s overly amused smirk.
“What about you, Gen? Do you have any moves, or wait—let me guess. You’re a pillow princess, aren’t you?” Clarissa’s sneer was just as dangerous from Genevieve’s position on the floor. Genevieve had no idea what a pillow princess was, but context clues led her to believe it was intended as an insult. She scoffed as she jumped to her feet and righted her chair.
“I am not, I mean, I uh…”
“Leave the poor girl alone, Clarissa,” Maxine said, “and get back to work.”
Genevieve watched as Clarissa sauntered away, waiting for her to reach a safe distance before talking to Maxine again. “I don’t get it. When is she going to leave me alone?”
“Relax, Gen, it’ll happen. You’re the first young female hire in a while that threatens her status as the hottest thing at Out Shore.”
Genevieve was confused. “But I thought Matthew said Harper hasn’t hired any men lately.”
“Hunks,” Maxine said. “The last men Harper hired were either married or not Matthew’s type, and the last woman was older than me.”
Genevieve looked over her shoulder nonchalantly enough to not get caught staring at Clarissa and the way she laughed with another writer. “I’m not saying I want to be her friend, but I do wish she’d realize I’m not here to take anything from her. I want us all to be successful.”
“I know you do, Gen, and I’m sure deep down Clarissa does, too.” Maxine turned back to her computer. “Soon enough she’ll come around, and you’ll be sharing your latest sex-capades with her, too.”
Trading sex stories with Clarissa? Genevieve’s chest tightened at the idea. “I need some air.”
Genevieve excused herself and made her way for the door. She needed fresh air to cool down because she was embarrassed and pissed off. Genevieve stepped out onto the sidewalk and paused as soon as the doors behind her closed. She pushed her glasses to the top of her head and looked up. Genevieve smiled toward the sunshine. She welcomed the way the chill of October cut through the material of her sweater and teased her heated skin. She wondered how long Clarissa planned to torture her as a new hire.
“Hey!”
Genevieve heard a voice call out, but she kept her face turned toward the sky with her eyes closed. There were many voices around her on the street, why pay any attention to this one?
“Genevieve?”
Harper was seated on a bench beside her. Genevieve couldn’t keep the smile from blossoming across her face.
“Harper! What brings you to the sidewalk on such a lovely afternoon?” Genevieve looked at Harper, no longer in awe of the sunshine’s beauty.
“Fresh air and a snack.” She held up a small bag of potato chips. “What about you?” Harper asked, motioning to the empty space beside her. “Join me.”
“I suppose the same.” Genevieve sat at the other end of the bench. The sun did wonders for Harper’s eyes, turning their deep pewter highlights to navy. Genevieve saw such softness, such kindness in those eyes that she found herself wanting to tell Harper all about the incident with Clarissa. But she reminded herself Harper was her boss, and she’d more than likely defend a senior member of her staff. She kept it simple. “Sometimes I just need a moment to breathe.” Genevieve took a deep breath to prove her point.
“I hope your first month is going well. Everyone is being welcoming, yes?”
Genevieve closed her eyes momentarily. Harper’s question went beyond simple manners. She was genuinely concerned, like she knew about the particular struggles Genevieve was facing.
She smiled softly before saying, “Yes, I already feel more comfortable here than I did at the Sunrise. And I was there for years!”
“I’m sure it helps that you’re surrounded by people like you.”
Genevieve furrowed her brow in confusion.
“Lesbians,” Harper said with a chuckle.
“Oh, right.” Genevieve swallowed hard. Sometimes she forgot certain details of her new life. “That is certainly a big help.” Genevieve focused on her hands, folded together on her lap.
Harper turned the bag of chips she’d been holding in Genevieve’s direction. “Want one?” Harper’s offer was so small, but Genevieve warmed to it immediately.
“I shouldn’t. I give up junk food every winter. Everything except gummy bears—they don’t hibernate.” Genevieve laughed at her small, poor joke.
“I don’t think I could survive without snacking.” Harper looked serious as she considered this and ate another potato chip. The loud crunching filled the space between them. “No, I really wouldn’t.”
Genevieve chortled. “Someone likes to exaggerate,” she said playfully, smiling at Harper. Genevieve noted the way Harper’s tailored suit pants hugged her frame perfectly. She looked like a woman who enjoyed the gym. Her black oxford shirt clung to her thick upper arms and broad shoulders. How did this body come from a need for snacking? “I don’t believe you.” When Genevieve’s eyes finally met Harper’s, she realized she seemed to be checking her out. She blushed and bit her lip.
“Believe it, Genevieve. To answer your next question, yes, I work out and no, I don’t enjoy it. But if it means more chips and candy…” Harper ate another chip and smirked.
“Fair trade-off?” Genevieve said, and Harper nodded. Genevieve stared blankly across the street once they fell silent. She tried to focus on the air around her and the comfort of the moment, but she wanted Harper to keep talking. Her gentle voice helped erase the unease Clarissa had wedged into her chest, and the way Harper looked at her made Genevieve feel butterflies in her stomach for the first time in years. She shifted uncomfortably. Where were these thoughts coming from? And more importantly, where were they leading?
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Harper said in a voice much firmer than usual.
Genevieve jumped slightly and laughed off the concern. “Yeah, definitely. Just been staring at a computer screen for too long. That’s actually why I wear these.” Genevieve removed the glasses from atop her head. “My mother insisted I see an eye doctor after getting one too many headaches. I didn’t need a prescription, but as it turns out they make lenses for people like me who live
on their computer.”
Genevieve ran her fingertip along the frame of her glasses and smiled at the memory of her mother’s worry. “Mom still thinks computers will fry my brain, but I can think of worse ways to go. Like never snacking again.”
Harper gasped dramatically. They shared a laugh, and Harper stared back at Genevieve with the slightest smile. Genevieve wanted to squirm under the attention, but she also never wanted it to end.
“Tell me more about your family,” Harper said.
Genevieve took a breath. “The short or the long version?”
“You decide.”
“I’m the middle child, sandwiched between two boys. They followed in my father’s footsteps and joined the Navy right out of high school. When I mentioned wanting to do the same, I was told that the military is for men.” Genevieve shrugged off Harper’s scowl. “I was diagnosed with a heart murmur my junior year of high school.” Genevieve leaned in closer. “I tell my mom it’s the only reason why I didn’t enlist against her wishes, but that was also around the time I realized I’d never survive in the Navy, or in any branch of the military, for that matter.”
Harper laughed, loudly and openly, and Genevieve felt an odd sense of pride swell at the effect she was having on her.
“Is your family back in Pennsylvania?”
“My mom and brothers are, yes. We lived there my whole life. No matter where my dad was stationed, she stayed with us in Pennsylvania so we’d have some semblance of normalcy.” Genevieve reached across the small space between her and Harper and took a chip. She put the whole thing in her mouth and chewed before saying, “That definitely helped my dad hide his affairs.”
Harper’s mouth fell open, the same reaction Genevieve received from most people when she told this story. She couldn’t hold back her giggle. “They divorced when I was ten. It was for the best.”
Harper placed the bag of chips on the bench and started to wipe her hands off. Genevieve waited for her to look at her again, to continue her story, but Harper’s whole demeanor had changed.
“The three of us wanted out of Milan so badly.” Genevieve continued through the awkwardness, hopeful she could undo the damage she had done to the moment. “But I was the only one who made it out.” She was overwhelmed with the need to reach out and physically grab Harper’s attention once more. Genevieve placed a gentle hand on Harper’s shoulder and said, “I think I wound up right where I’m supposed to be.”
Harper looked first at Genevieve’s hand and then at Genevieve before her face melted into a broad grin. “I do, too.” Genevieve’s smile matched Harper’s instantly, and they sat in silence for a moment more before Harper said, “I’m keeping you from your work again. I seem to be making this a bad habit.”
Harper stood, prompting Genevieve to do the same. She stepped forward and opened the door for Genevieve, ushering her inside with a small touch to her lower back. “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, Genevieve.” Harper made her way to her office, leaving Genevieve alone in the heart of the bustling space.
Genevieve took in the people around her, the woman who had just left her, and all the possibilities that lay before her. Her career was just getting started, but she already had a following, her coworkers were mostly great, and her boss was… Genevieve looked to Harper’s open office door. Harper Davies was wonderful.
One year, Genevieve thought. One year of keeping my story straight. She laughed at the unintentional pun. I’ll get a year of experience under my belt for my resume and then I’ll quit. If anyone asks, I fell for a person, Jeremy, who was a man and an exception. That happens, right? She nodded definitively. The first month was already wrapping up. She’d only have to keep lying for eleven more.
Motion from the corner of her eye caught Genevieve’s attention. Harper stood just inside her office, talking on the phone. Her broad, vibrant smile captured Genevieve’s focus fully. She sighed, praying eleven months would pass easily.
Step Six
Have a Confidante
With so many different eateries, bars, and eclectic shops, weekend activities in Asbury Park were plentiful and guaranteed fun. However, Genevieve found weekends to be the perfect time to indulge in sweatpants, country music, beer, and being home alone. Genevieve rarely experienced this kind of quiet solitude back in Pennsylvania. If Jeremy wasn’t stopping by unexpectedly, her best friend, Chloe, would surely be showing up with a grand plan for them.
Genevieve sat in her home office and closed her eyes. She relished the way her music echoed in her silent apartment. When she opened her eyes, she looked down at her open notebook and smiled in satisfaction at the notes scribbled along the margins and Post-its sticking out from between the pages. She needed this time to focus on keeping her column believable as well as consistent, and to work on her side job of freelance blog posting.
She opened to a page with a starred Post-it attached, listing off event web pages that detailed every different singles mixer, ladies’ night, and potential matchmaking event taking place in town that month. Genevieve entertained the idea of venturing out to one that night, but as she shifted and felt the soft fleece lining of her pants rub against her legs, she knew this was not the weekend she’d be meeting new people. She turned the page and tapped her finger along to the twang of a banjo.
Pillow Princess. She had written the words in red and traced over them several times to make sure they were bold enough to bleed through to the other side of the page. Genevieve grimaced when Clarissa’s face came into her mind. She turned to her computer and opened Google. “What is a pillow princess?” She spoke the words as she typed them and hit enter. Once the first result loaded, she read the description aloud: “A woman, usually in a curious / bisexual context, who wants to experience pleasure from oral sex, but who is unwilling to reciprocate.” Genevieve sat back with her mouth agape. “I am not a pillow princess!”
As soon as the sting of Clarissa’s words started to wear off, Genevieve realized being insulted was silly because that definition didn’t apply to her. She barely even experienced pleasure from oral sex. Genevieve’s face fell. If she was going to make it through a year as a lesbian, she’d need to figure out a thing or two about being with women, and that included increasing her sexual knowledge. She pulled her hair back into a loose bun and started typing again.
Sex with Jeremy wasn’t exactly bad, though it was vanilla and the same thing for nearly ten years. No matter how many suggestions she had made or new ideas she tried to bring into the bedroom, he wasn’t on board. She met any idea he had with enthusiasm, but it usually ended with her dissatisfaction as well.
Genevieve considered her present situation alongside her past. What if I invited another woman into the bedroom? She nearly choked on her laughter and spoke to herself. “Definitely not.”
Her first search was for lesbian sex tips. The first three pages of results were nothing more than porn. She grabbed another beer and took a few sips before deciding to just click on the first video that appealed to her. The scene was a sleepover between friends. Genevieve laughed at the cliché, but she hit play anyway.
Two blondes shared a bed and were dressed in the same barely-there pajama set. They wore pink thongs and too-tiny white T-shirts. They were “asleep” for the first five seconds of the video before one of them cracked open an overly lined and shadowed eye to look over at her bedmate. Okay, Genevieve thought, this isn’t so bad. Genevieve almost choked on her mouthful of beer when the woman who was wide awake started to masturbate next to her costar. Predictably, the other woman awoke and things escalated quickly.
“Wow, okay,” Genevieve said as she took in their artificially large breasts, a lot of tongue action, and very long nails going places they shouldn’t. She closed one eye when one stubborn string of saliva wouldn’t leave a woman’s chin, but continued watching as the other woman thrashed with the most over-acted orgasm Genevieve had ever seen. Genevieve had faked better orgasms herself, and she hadn’t gotten paid for them. She closed
her browser and finished her beer. Judging by the results of this research, the rest of Genevieve’s year at Out Shore would be more difficult than expected. Genevieve was definitely straight.
*
Genevieve walked into work with a new sense of confidence thanks to her research-filled weekend. After the porn disaster, Genevieve went to a local bookstore and stocked up on books about lesbian relationships and every LGBT-themed magazine she could get her hands on. Combined with the back issues of Out Shore she had been collecting, Genevieve had plenty of material.
Mondays had a unique energy in the Out Shore office. Final drafts had to be submitted by Wednesday, and most writers were rushing around to solidify topics and getting final approval from trusted coworkers. Genevieve was finishing up the outline she had been working on since Friday. This week’s installment would be about integrating old friends into your new life, something Genevieve had yet to do. But she planned on calling Chloe that night to let her in on her latest situation. Saying that she was in need of a levelheaded perspective would be an understatement.
Genevieve was preparing her second cup of coffee in the break room when Clarissa walked in with Matthew. He was a delight to be around when alone, but he became loud and incorrigible with Clarissa around.
“All I’m saying is that this magazine needs more spice.” Clarissa was talking as usual. Genevieve rolled her eyes.
“And I’m willing to bet you’re the perfect candidate for that job?” Matthew’s question was obviously rhetorical, but Clarissa answered anyway.
“Of course! Who else would be?”
Genevieve started to bristle, knowing she’d find herself at the butt of yet another Clarissa attack if she didn’t get out of there quickly.
