by Sabrina Kane
“Holy fuck!” Amy eventually had to call out, her body lost in the throes of the climax.
When it finally released her, she went limp atop Sally, the side of her face resting lifelessly against Sally’s convulsing, streaming core.
She was done. Sally was too. It was so fast and so primal but it was what they needed.
The fingers from all openings were removed and Amy somehow managed to find the strength to roll off Sally’s slack, panting form.
Amy knew she had never experienced anything like that before. The intensity of the orgasms she had just been given had robbed other parts of her body of feeling. Her toes and fingers were numb. Her cheeks were tingling in the way a body part feels when it has lost its source of blood. Her legs and arms were all jelly.
Without speaking, Amy and Sally spent time recovering, both of them panting hard, both of them unable to move.
My god in heaven!
***
“We scored ourselves a nice room, by the way,” Amy said after they both shared a shower and put on the hotel’s oh-so-soft bathrobes.
They were in one of the hotel’s luxury suites with a bedroom, living and dining areas and a private balcony facing the bay—all artfully decorated with mid-century modern furnishings. Amy didn’t have a tape measure but she suspected the suite was as large as her apartment in Carlsbad.
It was now late afternoon and a wonderfully orange-tinged sunlight was streaming into the suite from the window.
“Yeah,” Sally agreed. “I would say we shouldn’t feel too cramped here. Although, if we really wanted to stress-test this relationship, we should’ve gotten one of the basic rooms.”
Amy laughed.
“Whatever! You find me irresistible and living in a veritable shoebox of a hotel room wouldn’t change that.”
Sally smiled and put her arms around Amy’s waist and gave her a quick kiss.
“I think you’re right,” Sally said.
“Anyway, what do you want to do now?” she asked Sally.
“Food!” Sally exclaimed.
“Oh, thank god! Me too! You taste good but you aren’t very filling!”
“Hmm,” Sally began, a mischievous gleam in her eyes, “strangely enough, you are filling; like a high-calorie meal.”
Amy gasped and playfully swatted at Sally while laughing.
“You bitch! Take that back!”
The weather was pleasant but San Francisco was nonetheless living up to its reputation weather-wise and so Amy and Sally had to dress as if it was autumn even though by the time they would leave this city to return home, it would be May. Both women had on light coats. Sally was also wearing skinny jeans and a sweater; Amy had on a casual dress with tights and boots.
They found a hip seafood place on Embarcadero which Amy had discovered on Yelp during her pre-trip research. Once they had been shown to their table, Amy said, “I still can’t believe you agreed to come with me on this trip.”
Sally smiled.
“I’m serious,” Amy went on. “I really am glad you’re here with me.”
If it was possible, Sally’s smile got bigger.
“Babe, I’m glad I’m here with you too,” she said, reaching across the table and taking her hand.
“So…I have a serious question,” Amy began but was interrupted when their server arrived to take their drinks order.
“Call me crazy,” Amy said to Sally, switching gears, “but I often like beer with my seafood.”
“I’m game,” Sally replied.
“We have a really large selection of beers,” their server offered. “A lot of them are from local microbreweries.”
“Perfect,” Amy said, quickly scanning the list. “Ooh! I’ll have that coffee IPA, please.”
“Aaaand it doesn’t surprise me that you’d order a beer with coffee in it,” Sally snarked. “I’ll have the same,” Sally then told the server. When she left to get their drinks, Sally said, “I’m afraid I don’t know much about beer. I usually stick with wine.”
“Snob,” Amy said jokingly.
“So, what was your serious question?” Sally asked.
“Oh! Right! Um…Do you think things are moving too fast between us? For the record, I totally don’t! I mean, I know we’ve practically spent every night together since we met and I know that—Oh my god!—we’re suddenly taking a vacation together! But, I don’t know, I don’t feel like things are moving way too fast. I feel like this is totally normal for us! Like, it’s the pace we’re meant to follow! And it’s not like we’ve U-Hauled—which, by the way, if we do…your place! So much bigger! But I’m not suggesting we do that! I’m just saying…Anyway, forget that! I don’t think we’re moving too fast but I’m kind of worried that you might feel that way and if you do, tell me because I’d rather you be honest so we can make adjustments and whatnot.”
Amy finally had to stop because somehow, she said all that in one breath and her lungs were starting to ache.
Meanwhile, Sally was laughing.
“Holy fuck, why do so many lesbians ramble?” Sally asked, staring at Amy with wide eyes.
“Do they?” Amy asked, interested, already wondering if this could be a blog post. Communication idiosyncrasies of gay women.
“Well, I don’t know, actually,” Sally said. “I probably just think so many lesbians ramble because I pretty much only hang out with lesbians. Anyway, you’re now added to my collection of rambling lesbians.”
Amy blushed.
“I know…I just had diarrhea of the mouth there.”
“Well, before you have another bout of diarrhea, let me answer you,” Sally said quickly.
Amy folded her hands on the tabletop and forced herself to stay quiet.
“No, I don’t think we’ve been moving too fast,” Sally said, smiling. “I like our pace.”
“Really?”
“Really. Like you said, it feels like it’s the pace we’re meant to follow. At least I think that’s what you said…You can talk really, really fast, did you know that? Anyway, before I become a rambling lesbian…No, I don’t think we’re moving too fast and so now we can both relax about that.”
“Yay!” Amy replied, feeling relieved and feeling that, yes, she could now relax about it.
Chapter 30
The next morning, Sunday, something pulled Sally out of a deep sleep. It wasn’t a noise or other disturbance which did it, and as she lay there in that fog-like, in-between state of being somewhat awake, somewhat asleep, she tried to puzzle out what it was. Finally, she determined that it was the absence of something. Or rather, someone.
Amy wasn’t next to her.
Groggily, she opened her eyes and then had to wait until her brain recognized the unfamiliar surroundings.
San Francisco. I’m in a hotel suite in San Francisco.
That done, her eyes located the clock on the nightstand. It was only just past six a.m. She groaned, wondering why, when she was on vacation, she couldn’t sleep in later than dawn.
Must be the new bed.
It always took her a while to adjust to a new bed. The first few mornings she awoke at Amy’s had been super early also. Even those mornings she had had to go to work, she had woken up before her normal alarm.
She wanted to just snuggle her face back into the pillows but she knew the mystery of where Amy was would keep her awake and so she needed to solve that first and so, after wrapping herself in that amazing Hyatt bathrobe—And, seriously, did they sell these? Because she wanted one. She made a mental note to ask. —she padded out of the bedroom.
She found Amy in the dining area, sitting at the table, tapping away on her laptop.
Seriously?
“How long have you been up?” Sally asked, standing before the table with her arms crossed.
“I think since four-thirty-ish,” Amy said. “I couldn’t sleep anymore and so I figured I’d get some work done on my blog and answer some emails from fans.”
Sally sighed. This woman really needed to
learn to switch off.
On the one hand, Sally was annoyed. If she wanted to wake up to an empty bed only to find Amy working on something in another room, they could have stayed in Carlsbad. But part of what she had been looking forward to on this trip was waking up next to Amy, knowing that they both could just stay in bed all day if they wanted.
On the other hand, she reminded herself that her and Amy had had a fabulous time last night. After dinner, they had walked in the city, just talking and enjoying being in a new town. They had come across a local ice cream shop and gotten ice cream, despite the night being chilly. Eventually, they returned to the hotel, had amazing sex, and fell asleep.
The point was, Sally considered, Amy wasn’t really doing anything wrong. So she had gotten up early and decided to be productive. Was that the worst thing she could have done? No. But Sally could think of one or two better things Amy could have done.
She approached Amy and started rubbing her shoulders, Amy groaning in appreciation.
“Babe, you need to relax,” Sally said, gratified that Amy stopped typing and was now lolling her head back, eyes closed, apparently enjoying the ministrations of Sally’s fingers.
“I know,” Amy practically sighed.
“We’re on vacation.”
“I know. Oh, god, that feels good!”
Sally smiled to herself.
“The next time you can’t sleep at four-thirty…” She started moving her hands lower, down Amy’s chest and then underneath the cami top Amy was wearing. Amy gave a little gasp of anticipation. “…You can wake me up and maybe we can find other things for you to do,” Sally continued. Both of her hands now covered Amy’s small breasts. She gave them a gentle squeeze and then began softly pinching the two nipples.
“Okay,” Amy squeaked.
“Good girl,” Sally said and then kissed the top of Amy’s head. “Now, come back to bed.”
***
After getting out of bed—again—it was still early. Once they left their hotel to go to breakfast, they didn’t end up returning until almost ten p.m. In between, they packed the day with a walk across the Golden Gate Bridge—taking selfies galore; a visit to the windmills in Golden Gate Park (more selfies); a visit to the de Young Museum (selfies in front of Picassos); two cable car rides (Sally almost dropped her phone taking selfies); an amazing crab lunch; cocktails at a cool bar near the vicinity of the Painted Ladies (and then selfies in front of the Painted Ladies) and a visit to Little Italy.
They had an incredible Italian feast for dinner and then went shopping on Market Street to walk it off before heading back to their hotel.
“Oh, my god, baby!” Sally groaned when they finally returned to their suite. After dropping her purse and her bags of shopping by the door, she trudged over to the sofa and plopped face-down on it.
“I am soooooo fucking exhausted!” Amy complained. She also dropped her belongings at the door, went to the sofa and made Sally scootch over to make room so she could lie down next to her.
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t make mad, passionate love to you tonight, won’t you?” Sally murmured, her face half-buried in the sofa cushions.
“I insist you don’t make mad, passionate love to me tonight,” Amy replied. Nonetheless, she snuggled closer to Sally and Sally felt as if all was right with the world.
“I had a great day with you,” Sally said, kissing the tip of Amy’s nose.
“Me too. You’re fun to explore with.”
“I can’t wait until the world opens up again,” Sally replied. “Wouldn’t it be fun to explore a city both of us have never been to?”
She wondered if she was being too presumptuous by stating that. It suggested a future—a future with Amy in a world in which they could move freely around. But Sally wanted to imagine that future and judging from Amy’s megawatt smile, so did Amy.
“I would love that!” Amy said and then closed her eyes. “But after we get some sleep.”
***
They decided to spend the early part of Monday in the Castro, San Francisco’s gay mecca, to take pictures, enjoy thrift shopping and do a lot of people-watching, and also to visit the Rainbow Honor Walk.
“Ooh! Have you been there?” Amy asked after they had lunch at a place which made incredible Cuban sandwiches.
Sally looked at where Amy was pointing. It was a bookstore across the street and, judging by the rainbow-colored paint job on the exterior as well as the three huge rainbow flags flying over its doorway, a bookstore that was very proudly LGBTQ-centric.
Sally smiled. Despite doing virtually all of her reading on her Kindle, she still liked browsing bookshops and would often find a nice coffee table book or two to add to her collection.
The shop was large and well-lit and Sally loved that familiar and comforting smell of new books. The Kindle was an amazing device but it lacked that special something which can only be felt by holding a real book in her hands and lately she’d been thinking more and more that every now and then she ought to put her Kindle aside and read books with actual pages.
As her and Amy were silently browsing the titles on a table marked “Lesbian New Releases,” a woman approached Amy.
“I like your bag,” the woman said. She was in her thirties, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, with a paisley-patterned headscarf holding her brown hair away from her face. Sally’s threat detector sensed no danger. She was certain this woman wasn’t hitting on Amy but was genuinely complimenting her on the tote bag Amy had brought with her.
The bag was a large, pink canvas tote with the words Lesbeing—the Podcast printed on it, along with the show’s logo. It was one of the items of merch from the podcast’s online shop.
“I love that show,” the woman said, pointing at the bag. Sally had to hold in her laughter as she watched Amy’s eyes go wide over her face mask. The woman continued. “A lot of other lesbian podcasts just talk about fluffy stuff like sex scenes in books and movies, or who’s hotter, Kate Winslet or Cate Blanchett, but Lesbeing talks about more cerebral topics pertaining to the lesbian experience. Like that episode where Amy compared lesbian representation in American government compared to other countries…”
Sally was beginning to wonder if Amy was going to survive this encounter. Standing next to her, Sally could almost feel Amy vibrating with excitement and she worried that Amy might literally explode.
“I take it you’re a fan?” the woman prodded.
“It’s my show!” Amy blurted out. “I’m Amy Broadnax!”
Now it was the woman’s turn for a display of wide-eyed wonder.
“No way!” she exclaimed, laughing. “That’s amazing!” She took a closer look at Amy. “Oh my goodness, I recognize you now! Well, I meant what I said…I’m a huge fan, really! I absolutely love your show.”
“Thank you so much!”
Behind her mask, Sally was grinning ear to ear. This was so cool! And it made her feel super proud. She was rather enjoying being the girlfriend of a woman whose podcast talks about “cerebral topics pertaining to lesbianism.” And who was incredibly cute to boot.
And then…
“I’m Pam, by the way,” the woman said, offering her fist to bump. “This is my store.”
“I love this place!” Amy enthused. “I always visit when I come to San Francisco.”
“Thank you,” Pam said. “Really, though…you’re the best!”
“And this is my girlfriend, Sally,” Amy said, turning and indicating Sally next to her.
Again, the fist was raised for a bump but before Sally had a chance to do so, Pam gasped and her hands flew to her face.
“Jillian!” she said.
Shit!
“I watched that interview three times!” Pam said. “Oh my goodness, you’re actually in my store!”
Sally shrugged.
“Yep, I guess I am,” she said. “So much for my mask keeping my identity a secret. Batman makes it look so easy.”
“It’s your black hair and green
eyes,” Pam said. “They give you away.”
Great…
She looked at Amy, silently pleading with her eyes to help her, but Amy seemed too amused to want to do anything like that.
“Amy,” Pam began, “you did such a great job with that interview! Your questions were…perfect.”
“Thank you, that means a lot.”
“Goodness, did you two start dating after that interview?”
“Yep,” Amy answered.
“I could tell there was chemistry between you two! Everybody was commenting on it afterwards.”
This was true. Once Sally’s “secret identity” was revealed, her social media feeds had been full of remarks by people commenting on how obvious it was that her and Amy had the hots for each other during the interview.
If they only knew…
“Excuse me,” another woman said, approaching the trio. “Did I hear you say you’re Jillian Ashley?”
Sally nodded, glad that her face mask was hiding her clenched jaw. She really didn’t feel like being Jillian today.
“Huh!” The woman uttered. “I’m actually not a big fan of your books.”
Sally didn’t know how to respond to that.
“No…Actually, I hate them. I stopped reading them after the second one.”
Oh, good lord!
“No,” the woman went on, “I’m more of a Kitty Karlyle fan myself.”
It took all of Sally’s self-control to not burst out in righteous indignation. Kitty Karlyle? This…person…preferred Kitty Karlyle to Jillian Ashley? It was like comparing the sonnets of Shakespeare to the instructions on a bottle of shampoo!
But Sally smiled and said, “Well, to each her own, right?”
“But my wife is a huge fan of yours!” the woman stated. “Too bad she’s not here with me.”
“Yeah, too bad,” Sally murmured.
“Hey, can you do me a favor, though?” The woman held out the book in her hand. “Can you autograph this for her? She’ll get a kick out of that.”
