by Harper Bliss
“Hey, stranger.” Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Sheryl stood next to her. “Are you having fun?” She eyed Kristin’s drink. “I hope you didn’t pay to drink your own wine.”
Kristin chuckled. “It’s not my wine, it’s my company’s. And yes, I’m having fun.”
“Good.” Sheryl shuffled her weight from one foot to the other while her gaze was fixed on Kristin. “Truth be told, I wasn’t expecting you.”
It was night-club dark around them, but Kristin could still clearly see the blue of Sheryl’s eyes. “Yet here I am,” she said in what she hoped was a flirtatious tone.
“Well, you were on the guest list so…”
“An opportunity not to be missed.” Kristin knocked back the last of her wine.
“How about I get you another one of those?” Sheryl pointed at Kristin’s empty glass.
Just then, the DJ decided to change tack and the first, slow notes of “Show Me Heaven” started playing.
“How about a dance instead?” Kristin could barely believe she’d just asked another woman to dance. Part of that could be credited to downing two glasses of wine in short order, but not all. Perhaps she just really wanted to dance with Sheryl.
“I can’t say no to that after you gave us all that wine.”
“I wouldn’t want you to feel obligated because you think you owe me,” Kristin said, a smile in her voice. “I can assure you it won’t affect future sponsorship deals if you decline.” This was so much more fun than having to endure aimless flirtations from men at receptions.
“Come on.” Sheryl grabbed her hand and Kristin quickly deposited her empty glass on a table on their way to the dance floor, which was already packed with women pressed closely together.
The touch of Sheryl’s hand against hers—so different from that handshake the day before—made her break out into a mild sweat. Or perhaps it was the proximity of all those female bodies swaying to the slow beat.
“I love this song,” Kristin said, as Sheryl planted her hands on her hips. Instinctively, Kristin put hers on Sheryl’s shoulders. They were about the same height and although there was a fair amount of space left between their bodies, the immediate intimacy of dancing together threw Kristin a little.
Sheryl nodded. “I remember going to see the movie, back in the day when I was young and gullible, expecting greatness from Nicole Kidman, our Ozzie pride and joy.” She swung Kristin around, and when their bodies realigned, Sheryl’s hips were most definitely pushing against Kristin’s. Kristin looked into Sheryl’s eyes, thoroughly enjoying the press of her hips against hers. She didn’t want to ruin the moment by continuing a conversation about Australian actresses conquering Hollywood, or by saying anything at all. Sheryl’s hands rode up a little, planting themselves firmly on Kristin’s waist. Their faces were so close. Kristin shut her eyes and lost herself in the music and the moment for a few seconds. And to think she almost hadn’t come.
They danced in silence until the end of the song. Then their bodies fell apart awkwardly, but Kristin thought it a bit much to ask for the next dance as well.
“How about that drink?” Sheryl asked.
“Oh yes.” Kristin needed it.
“I’ll be right back.” Sheryl headed to the bar.
Kristin watched her until she was out of her line of sight, then looked at the writhing bodies on the dance floor. It was another slow one, but Kristin didn’t know the song. The sight of all these women dancing together emboldened her. Sure, she wanted to dance more with Sheryl, but she would also like to have a conversation with her in a more quiet setting.
“None of Sterling Wines’ delicious offerings for you?” Kristin looked at the glass of water in Sheryl’s hand.
“I’m not much of a drinker.” Sheryl shot her a wide smile.
“Oh.” Kristin mirrored Sheryl’s smile. “And I was just going to ask you to go for a drink with me one of these days.”
“How about coffee tomorrow afternoon instead?” Sheryl countered, not missing a beat.
“That sounds like the perfect compromise.” Kristin stood there beaming, feeling a little foolish but also very pleased with herself for coming to this party. Who would have thought that her job as junior marketing manager at a wine distribution company would have led to a date with a gorgeous lesbian?
Chapter Three
The biggest advantage of not drinking was the absence of hangovers. Having abstained for most of her adult life, Sheryl had never actually been on the receiving end of a vicious hangover. She had seen them in action often enough, however, when the time came to clean up after a party. Her fellow organizers complained their way through their—often poor—performance of their various tasks. Which was why Sheryl thought it important to be present when the LAUS members removed all evidence of the previous night’s party.
Today, she had an even bigger spring in her step than most, because she had a date that very afternoon. A date with Kristin Park, the wine woman, as some of her friends referred to her.
“Good job, sister,” Caitlin said. “You worked your butt off once again.”
“It’s not work when it’s fun.”
“Speaking of fun… I saw you having quite a bit of that with a slender Asian lady last night. Do spill,” Caitlin said as they stood leaning against the now-empty bar.
“Yes, Sher, spill.” Betty, who had been sweeping the floor, joined them.
“There’s nothing to spill just yet, ladies. I am, however, having coffee with her in about three hours.”
“Three hours?” Caitlin said. “Then what are you still doing here? Go home, rest up, make sure you look your best for the wine woman.”
“What’s wrong with how I look now?”
Betty came to stand in front of her, leaning on her broom. “Let’s just say the whole of you could do with some ironing, not just your clothes.”
“Thank you very much for injecting me with an extra dose of confidence.”
“Confidence is not the issue here,” Caitlin butted in. “You already have plenty of that.” Two years ago, Sheryl and Caitlin had briefly dated—an affair that had ended in friendship rather than anything long-term.
“Just go, Sheryl. You’ve more than done your part. We’ll make sure everything is spic-and-span before we return the key tomorrow,” Betty said. “Trust your sisters.” She shot Sheryl a goofy wink. “Go, go, go. And we’ll be wanting all the juicy details at the meeting on Tuesday.”
They had agreed to meet at a coffee shop not far from the university, just because Sheryl knew the opening hours by heart—and perhaps also because it was halfway between her apartment and her work place. But despite living nearer their rendezvous place, Sheryl was last to arrive. How did that happen? She had been constantly checking her watch to make sure to leave on time.
Kristin seemed totally absorbed by the book she was reading and didn’t look up when Sheryl entered the establishment. This gave Sheryl a chance to have a good look at Kristin before they actually started the date. Her appearance was pretty immaculate for someone who had knocked back the wine so easily and into the small hours last night. Her short hair looked like it was styled by a professional. She sat straight-backed, her attention to what she was reading unwavering. Sheryl made a mental note to find out which book it was and add it to her never-ending to-read pile.
“That seems mighty interesting,” Sheryl said.
Kristin looked up, a smile appearing on her face instantly. “Hey.” Her voice was soft, and when she looked up like that, Sheryl could make out some signs of fatigue around her eyes. The telltale frown of the forehead. Sheryl might not have had any hangovers in her life herself, but she’d had ample opportunity to study the effects of them up close. Kristin rose and promptly grabbed Sheryl by the shoulders before pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.
“What are you reading?” Sheryl hoped to mask the blush she felt creep up her neck with her question.
“The latest Kay Scarpetta,” Kristin said. “Are you a Patricia Co
rnwell fan?”
They both sat down, even though Sheryl hadn’t ordered her coffee yet. “I wish I had the time to read for leisure, but that’s not a luxury I have right now.”
“So what do you do for leisure, I wonder.”
“I’ll tell you all the fascinating details about my life after I get us a much-needed cup of coffee.” On her way to the counter, Sheryl weighed Kristin’s choice of reading material. There had been a time in her life when she’d been terribly snobbish about such things, and probably wouldn’t even have considered dating someone who couldn’t quote from The Female Eunuch by heart, but she’d long since let go of the lofty aspirations of only dating within the university pool. Besides, perhaps Kristin was well-versed in Germaine Greer.
“So?” Kristin asked after Sheryl had provided them both with steaming beverages. “I’m all curious now. What do you do in your spare time?”
“You saw that in action last night and before that, when I was pestering you to sponsor our party.”
“I would hardly call that pestering.” A small smile played on Kristin’s lips. “Besides, if it hadn’t been for the pestering, we wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”
“I did think it kind of strange that someone with the word manager in their job title would show up for a wine delivery. You must explain that to me.” And just like that, the entire atmosphere surrounding them turned flirty again. They’d only just met, but it seemed like their go-to mode. There was something in the air when they were in each other’s company. It couldn’t be denied. It also kept a wide grin glued to Sheryl’s face throughout the conversation.
“So it’s all work for you all the time?” Kristin asked, letting her gaze pass over Sheryl once again. How was it even possible for someone to look so scrumptious in so simple an outfit? Jeans and a t-shirt was all it took for Sheryl.
“Not really, but I do spend most of my time at the university and it is all a bit intertwined, but grading a paper is hardly the same as throwing a party.” There was something about Sheryl that had instantly spoken to Kristin. It had even come through in her voice when they’d only talked on the phone. A certain gravitas beyond her years. And then when they’d met in person, a tiny glimmer of melancholy in her glance that made her look older and as though she took even the smallest matter very seriously.
While Kristin considered herself lighthearted enough, she had not had a lighthearted, breezy upbringing. Everything was always dead serious at the Park house, from homework to the automatic assumption that Kristin would follow in both her parents’ footsteps and become a doctor—and, of course, that she would meet a fellow doctor-in-training in medical school and marry him, just like her parents had done. While Kristin had defied her parents in most ways, part of the seriousness had stuck.
When it was time for a refill, it was Kristin’s turn to head to the counter and as she walked back, mugs in hand, she considered that she could sit here in this coffee shop in Sheryl’s exquisite company for a good while longer.
“What about your work?” Sheryl asked. “How many Mardi Gras fundraising parties do you sponsor? This must be a busy time for you.”
“We do have standards, and we are quite selective about who we give our wares to.” Kristin remembered, as though it had only happened yesterday, the call that had been dispatched through to her—as most calls related to marketing that reception didn’t know what to do with were—and the deep voice on the other end of the line. Without the visual, someone else might have mistaken Sheryl’s low voice for a man’s, but she hadn’t.
“I feel honored then.” Sheryl cocked her head. “Do you enjoy what you do?”
Kristin nodded. “Very much so. I feel like I’m exactly where I need to be. I had a later start than most of my colleagues because of a failed med school experiment.” For reasons Kristin didn’t fully understand, the marketing department at Sterling Wines was mostly populated by women. Women who were her peers age-wise, but were now all, as though collectively struck by the notion of the biological clock, starting to have families. No matter how women-unfriendly the conclusion—though really, it was more a reflection on how corporations, at the top, were still too male dominated—Kristin knew this gave her an edge over her colleagues.
“A marketing late bloomer, huh?”
“I know that marketing seems like this catch-all for students who don’t really know what to do with their lives or, like me, realized, two years in, that practicing medicine would make them miserable, but for me, it was never like that.”
“So why the two-year detour?”
Kristin couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “A case of parental pressure and expectations. I’m an only child, so my parents piled all their big hopes onto me.”
“And they wanted you to be a doctor.”
“I know it’s a big cliché, what with me being Korean and my Korean immigrant parents, both doctors, wanting me to become a doctor. I guess it’s a cliché for a reason.”
“Good for you for standing up to them.”
Kristin chuckled. “When I dropped out of med school, my mother suggested I become a nurse instead.” She shook her head. “I always had other dreams for myself, but perhaps I was just slow in realizing it. First, I thought my aversion to all things medical stemmed from being the daughter of two doctors. That I would get over it if I just plunged in headfirst. When that didn’t happen after the first year, I figured I owed it to them to at least meet one of their expectations because I guess, somehow, I already knew I wouldn’t be meeting another big one.”
“Ah.” Sheryl’s eyes narrowed. She listened with such attention visible on her face. She sat with one leg slung over the other, looking at Kristin as if learning all about her was the most important thing in life. Maybe to her, in this moment, it was. The thought made Kristin go all warm inside. “That.”
“I’ll be thirty in three days and I’m not out to my parents. I’m not out pretty much anywhere, really.”
“You’ll get there when the time is right.”
Kristin quirked up her eyebrows.
“What?” Sheryl asked.
“I don’t know. I guess I would have expected a more militant reaction from you.” She followed up with a grin.
“Just like you are not a cliché, but a complex human being with reasons for why things happened the way they did in your life, neither am I.”
“You will make an excellent professor one day, Sheryl Johnson.”
Sheryl laughed a deep belly laugh. “That’s the plan. If I can ever finish my bloody thesis.”
In the short moment of silence that followed, Kristin felt all the things she’d never felt with Petra. All the things that, deep down, she knew she was capable of feeling but hadn’t had the occasion to.
“I think they want us to leave,” Sheryl said. They were the only patrons left, and had both switched to tea after the third cup of coffee.
“Pity.” Kristin looked around. “I like this place. I have a bit of a coffee shop fetish in general and this place ticks all my boxes.”
“Maybe I’ll see you here again some day then.” Sheryl leaned forward, elbows on knees.
Kristin mirrored her image. “There’s a really good chance of that.”
“How about tomorrow, whenever it is you knock off work?”
“Or…” Kristin didn’t want to go home to her empty flat. She didn’t want to sit on her sofa and wait for tomorrow to come around, regretting not having said what she was about to say. “We could go for dinner now? Are you hungry?”
Sheryl sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and nodded her head slowly. “That sounds very enticing.”
“But?”
“No buts. I know just the place.” Sheryl rose and led the way.
The relief that washed over Kristin was comparable to what she’d felt when she finally did make the decision to quit medical school. It wasn’t only relief coursing through her, however, but the burgeoning sense that her life was about to change for the better. Just lik
e it had done before.
Chapter Four
“You don’t drink at all?” Kristin asked.
Sheryl considered herself lucky that the question had only come by the time they were halfway through the meal. Usually she was bombarded by quizzical looks and inordinate questions when wine was to be ordered—because God forbid someone in Australia had dinner without alcohol just once in their lives. For all its virtues and relaxed vibes, this country was obsessed with becoming intoxicated on any given night after five. Sheryl knew this was a slight exaggeration, but she couldn’t help but be fanatical about it. And nobody in their right mind could deny that Australians in general liked a drink—or five.
“I do. I just don’t like what it does to my brain. I like to be clear-headed. Life is short, why waste it on being out of it? I’d much rather be in it, you know?” Sheryl laughed at herself—she was good at that in situations like this. “I’m gibbering.” She was on a date with a beautiful woman. She wasn’t about to reveal the real reason for her abstinence. If this worked out, they would have plenty of time to discuss that.
“That doesn’t sound like gibberish to me at all.”
“And that from someone who works in the wine industry.”
“I don’t really see myself as working in the wine industry per se. I work in marketing.”
“Fair enough.” Sheryl deposited her cutlery on her plate.
“So what about your parents?” Kristin asked, kind of out of the blue. In the context of a date, and in light of what Kristin had told Sheryl about her own parents already, it was a logical question, but Sheryl wondered at the timing of it. Or maybe Kristin had a strongly developed sense of female intuition.
“My mother died a long time ago and my father and I are not close.” Sheryl didn’t say anything more, but it was always interesting to see how people reacted to a conversation-stopper like that.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Kristin said. She genuinely looked sorry, too. As long as she didn’t pity Sheryl. Or ask any follow-up questions. Ironically, it was when questions like these came up, that Sheryl hankered for the unknown effects of a drink the most. “That must not have been easy.”
