Going on Red

by Lyn Gardner

  Brodie cocked her head to the side, and a rock formed in her belly. “In what way exactly?”

  “Um…I couldn’t help but notice that you’re rather dressed up just to have dinner, or am I wrong?”

  Kate was spot-on, and they both knew it. With her plans for the evening including a visit to The Loft, Brodie had chosen a pair of dark gray Armani trousers and a black silk shirt which was unbuttoned far enough to show not only a fair amount of cleavage but also a hint of the black lace bra she wore underneath. To complete her ensemble, Brodie had chosen her favorite cologne from her collection. Its aroma was spicy yet subtle, and after applying it to her pulse points, she had finished with a hair gel that carried with it just a hint of cinnamon. So, when it came to alluring scents, there wasn’t much left on Brodie’s body that didn’t have one.

  Brodie’s feelings were immersed in the gray between black and white. Part of her was thrilled Kate was there, and the other part was still wary, still waiting for the boorish retort or judgmental assumptions to spill from Kate’s lips. Picking up her utensils, Brodie began twirling pasta around her fork. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. We should really eat before it gets cold.”

  The tone of Brodie’s voice was flat, almost curt, and Kate decided to follow Brodie’s lead. “Oh, all right,” she said, picking up her fork.

  In between bites, Kate tried not to stare, tried not to appreciate the beauty of the woman across the way. It wasn’t easy. The seductive undertone of cinnamon and musk had made its way across the table and above eyes defined by a pencil-thin charcoal border, Brodie had used a palette of smoky gray eyeshadow. Her look was stunning. Her look was magnetic, and her look said it all. When it came to finding a partner for the evening, Brodie was not going to have an issue.

  Brodie ate a few forkfuls of her dinner while she pondered Kate’s question. She was intrigued as to why Kate would care where she was going after dinner, especially after the argument they’d had at Kate’s house. Brodie picked up her wine, and as she took a drink, snippets of conversations she’d had with Devon and Gina crept into her head. A smile began to form as Brodie realized they could be right, and then just as quickly it faded. She wasn’t going to waste another night pining for a woman she couldn’t have.

  “I’m going to a club later,” Brodie said, placing her glass back on the table. “After all, it is Friday night.”

  “I thought so.”

  “Do you have a problem with that?” Brodie said, eyeing Kate.

  “No.” Kate picked up her wine and took a sip, hoping it would replace the moisture in her mouth that had somehow disappeared.

  “You know, you could go with me.”

  Kate jerked back her head. “To a lesbian club?”

  “Does that offend you?”

  “No, it doesn’t offend me. It would…it would just feel strange. That’s all.”

  Brodie rested back in the booth. “Why?”

  “Well, first, people would think I was your date.”

  “And I’m hideous, and you don’t want to be seen with me,” Brodie said, and picking up her silverware, she returned to eating. “That clears that up nicely, now, doesn’t it?”

  “Brodie, you’re hardly hideous.”

  As soon as Kate saw Brodie flash a devastating grin, she plunged her fork back into her meal like it was trying to skitter across the table. Mentally, Kate kicked herself a few times for her off-the-cuff compliment before she realized she had nothing to be embarrassed about. It wasn’t as if Brodie didn’t know she was attractive.

  Two mouthfuls later, Kate raised her eyes and saw Brodie had yet to lose her grin. “Look,” Kate said, putting aside her fork. “I’ve been to a lesbian club. Okay? In case you’ve forgotten, my best friend owns one, and I’ve gone there a few times. It’s just not a place I frequent.”

  “You do know it’s more than just a hangout for lesbians, don’t you?”

  “You’ve been there?”

  “Of course,” Brodie said as she folded her napkin and placed it on the table. “It has a nice atmosphere and a great dance floor.”

  “You like to dance?”

  “Does that surprise you?”

  “Yes, I mean…I mean, no.”

  “Which is it?” Brodie said, studying Kate. “Or are you just confused because I wear trousers rather than skirts so therefore, I couldn’t possibly like to dance? I’m much too butch for that?”

  “You aren’t butch, and that’s not—”

  “Well, I hate to break it to you, but there’s no such thing as a stereotypical dyke,” Brodie said, picking up her wine. “Some of us like to dance. Some of us have two left feet. Some of us ride motorcycles. Some of us prefer cars or trucks. Some of us lean toward looking masculine, and some of us don’t. Just like heterosexuals, we come in a plethora of varieties. There is no one-size-fits-all.”

  “I know that.”

  Brodie tilted her head to the side. “Do you?”

  Kate frowned. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I get the feeling you’re still a little peeved with me over what I said at my house, and I already apologized for it. I don’t know what else I can do.”

  “Come to G-Street with me.”

  “What?”

  “Better yet, why don’t Gina and I meet you and Devon there one night for drinks? That way, you can see it’s more than just a lesbian club.”

  Kate stared at the pasta-filled fork in front of her, and placing it in the bowl, she pushed it away. “You’re dating Gina?”

  “We went out to dinner. Is that a problem?”

  It shouldn’t have been a problem. It shouldn’t have been an issue, and it shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. It annoyed Kate that Brodie had wined and dined her best friend. It irritated her to think of them together, intimately conversing over a glass of Cabernet, and it infuriated Kate to know her dinner companion, who had made it perfectly clear she liked sex, could very well have bedded Gina.

  Kate picked her wine and drained what remained. “Look, what you do in your personal life is none of my business,” she said, placing the glass on the table. “If you want to go clubbing and date Gina, then do it. You don’t need my permission.”

  “So, you’re not interested?”

  “I told you. I’m straight!”

  Brodie pressed her lips together, looking down at the table for a moment to silence her mirth. “Kate,” she said, finally raising her watery eyes. “I was talking about going to G-Street with Devon and Gina. I wasn’t asking you for a date.”

  Kate felt her cheeks flame and snagging the bottle of Chianti from the table, she poured the remaining drops in her glass.

  On the other side of the booth, Brodie tried to act nonchalant. Kate was flustered, and Brodie had a sneaking suspicion that her heated appearance had absolutely nothing to do with the wine she was drinking.

  ***

  Kate giggled under her breath as they walked from the restaurant. As Brodie had warned, the pasta was delicious. It was also very filling, and when the brisk night air hit her, Kate welcomed the chill.

  “Where’d you park?” Brodie said as she zipped up her leather jacket.

  “Down the street a bit,” Kate said as she noticed the blue Jaguar by the curb. “See you got a close spot again.”

  “I did, but I think I’m going to walk for a few, or should I say waddle?”

  “You want some company?” Kate said, buttoning her coat.

  In an instant, Brodie’s mouth eased into an unconscious smile. It hadn’t been an invitation. Then again, did it really matter? Inclining her head in the direction she wanted to go, they began walking down the block, both casually glancing in store windows as they meandered through oncoming foot traffic.

  Kate was enjoying both the stroll and the company, and lost in her thoughts, it wasn’t until she looked to her left when she realized Brodie had stopped at a window a few shops behind her. Kate backtracked and stood alongside Brodie as she peered through the glass. “Looking for an
ything in particular?”

  “No, it’s just a game I play.”

  Kate gave Brodie a side-eyed glance. “A game?”

  “Yeah. I started it when I was a kid. Dad would take us into town, and while we were walking around, I’d look in the windows and try to decide if I could have anything on display, what would it be?”

  Kate sized up what the jewelry store had to offer. “Okay, so what did you pick?”

  “Those, I think,” Brodie said, pointing to a pair of earrings in the front row.

  Kate looked at the earrings and then at Brodie and then at the earrings again. Of all the finery presented on velvet cloth, the delicate pair of diamond and emerald dangly earrings didn’t really seem to be Brodie’s style. “Really?” Kate squeaked.

  “What? You don’t like them?”

  “No. No, actually, I like them a lot. They just didn’t strike me as something you’d wear.”

  “Who said they were for me?” Brodie said, and giving Kate a quick wink, Brodie continued down the street.

  Kate shook her head, and sniggering to herself, she jogged to catch up to the long-legged woman who was now stopped in front of a men’s clothing store. “Need a new tie, do you?”

  “No. My father’s birthday is coming up.”

  “And you’re getting him a tie?”

  “No, I’m just trying to get some ideas,” Brodie said, turning away from the window. “Let’s keep going.”

  They walked in silence until Brodie paused in front of a coffee shop. “Fancy a cup?”

  “You know, that actually sounds wonderful,” Kate said, and opening the door, she waved Brodie inside. “After you.”

  A few minutes later, with their hands wrapped around warm paper cups filled with dark roast, they continued their journey in the direction of Kate’s car. When they came upon a donut shop, Kate’s mouth dropped open when she saw Brodie stop at the window. “Oh, you cannot possibly be hungry.”

  “I’m not,” Brodie said with a laugh. “But since you’re a cop, you must like donuts. What’s your favorite kind?”

  “Now who’s being stereotypical? Just because I’m a cop, doesn’t mean I like donuts.”

  “Point taken,” Brodie said with a quick dip of her head. “Now answer the question. What’s your favorite?”

  “I’m not sure I really have a favorite.”

  Brodie flicked her eyes toward the stars. “Everyone has a favorite, Kate.”

  “Oh, they do, do they? So what’s yours?”

  “Jam-filled,” Brodie said without thinking. “Now, see how easy that was? So, what’s yours?”

  Kate’s brow furrowed as she thought about the question. “I really don’t know that I have—”

  “Oh, come on, Kate! Think about it,” Brodie said, waving her arms about. “Someone brings a dozen donuts to work, and you rush over, hoping and praying that you’ll find…what?”

  Tickled by Brodie’s delivery, Kate’s answer came quickly. “Chocolate frosted.”

  “There you go. I knew you had it in you.” Brodie’s smile was genuine and bright until she noticed Kate now had a set of keys in her hand. A second later, the lights of a nearby car flashed, and Brodie’s smile faded.

  “Well, this is me,” Kate said, turning to Brodie.

  “So it is,” Brodie saying, glancing at the subcompact. “Thanks for paying for dinner, by the way. I guess that means we’re even.”

  “I guess so,” Kate said as she moved to the driver’s door and opened it. “Good night, Brodie. Enjoy your evening.”

  Kate slipped behind the wheel, and closing the door, she started the engine. She was in the process of checking her mirrors when she heard a tap on the passenger side window, and seeing Brodie looking through the glass, Kate rolled the window down. “What’s up?”

  “I wanted you to have this,” Brodie said, handing Kate one of her business cards. “It has my office and mobile numbers on it, just in case you ever want company for dinner other than on a Friday night.” Seeing that Kate was staring at the card as if she were holding a king cobra, Brodie snorted. “Look, we’ve already had this conversation. You’re straight, and you’re not interested. I get that. All I’m suggesting is that if you ever decide you don’t want to cook, and it’s a day other than Friday, feel free to give me a call. No strings. No assumptions. No expectations. Okay?”

  Kate relaxed in her seat. “All right,” she said, opening her handbag to slip the card inside. “I just may do that. Thanks.”

  “Right then,” Brodie said, tapping on the roof of the car. “Off you go, and drive carefully.”

  The window rolled up and standing straight, Brodie watched until the car faded from view. She glanced at her watch and walked back to her car, grinning at the donut shop and jewelry store as she moseyed by. Climbing into her car, Brodie started the engine, and drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, she thought about the night while she waited for traffic to clear. It was a good night. A night of casual. A night of friendship. A night like none she could ever remember, and Brodie sighed as she pulled away from the curb and headed home. The idea of visiting The Loft and shagging a stranger no longer held her interest.

  ***

  She arched her back, gasping as she pushed against her lover’s mouth, and as that marvelous tongue lapped against her folds, she felt two fingers push inside.

  “Oh God. Don’t stop,” Devon cried out as she rocked against Gina’s hand. “Don’t you dare stop.”

  Delighted by Devon’s demand, Gina continued the sensual intrusion. Her strokes were deep and calculated, hard one second and soft the next, and with each push, Devon was losing more and more control.

  Devon craved release, and each time Gina would slow her exploration, Devon would rock harder until she finally pleaded, “Oh Jesus...baby...oh please…”

  Gina increased the tempo again, marveling at the amount of want coating her fingers. She lowered her mouth and spreading open the folds, she took several long licks before she placed her mouth over Devon’s clit and began flicking it with her tongue.

  Devon knew release would soon be hers, and she grabbed Gina by the hair, keeping her in place between her legs until her climax took her, and take her it did. Waves of splendor washed over her, and as her inner walls pulsated and unintelligible words fell from her lips, Devon relinquished herself to the sweetest of deaths.

  Gina waited while Devon stilled, and sitting back, she gazed at the beautiful woman lying in front of her. Since the night they left G-Street together, they had spent every available minute in each other’s arms, passing on dinner dates and dancing for lovemaking and whispers.

  If it had been up to Devon, they would have consummated their relationship in Gina’s office six days before, but after all the years of yearning and all the years of dreaming, Gina wouldn’t hear of it. She wanted it to be special. She wanted it to be a night to remember for as long as they both shall live, except after Gina closed up the club in the wee hours of Saturday morning, and they returned to her flat, sixteen years of pent-up desire and hidden emotions let loose. And as Gina looked around, it was abundantly clear the honeymoon was still going strong.

  Their clothes and shoes were strewn all over the lounge, and more than one piece of furniture had been dislodged from its original position. Magazines, once stacked neatly on the coffee table, were now scattered on the floor, and the only thing saving the lamp on the end table from toppling over was the weight of its base.

  Gina got to her feet, and grabbing the throw draped over a nearby chair, she wrapped herself in its warmth and then gazed at the naked woman on her sofa. Devon’s skin still glistened with sweat, and the tips of her nipples had yet to calm, the sight of which caused Gina’s core to pulse again.

  “You okay?”

  Gina locked eyes with Devon. “Yeah. Why?”

  “You looked far away.”

  “I was thinking about this past week…and us.”

  “Us?” Devon said, scrambling off the sofa. “Is somet
hing wrong?”

  “Oh, baby, no,” Gina said, lightly touching Devon’s face. “I’m totally in love with you. Don’t you know that?”

  Devon’s smile lit up the room. “I love you, too,” she said, leaning in for a kiss. “So, so much.”

  Their lips met in a feathery kiss, and the whisper-light contact was enough for Devon’s libido to ignite again, but when she went to deepen the kiss, Gina pulled away. Worry lines surfaced on Devon’s face. “Okay. What’s going on with you? There’s obviously something—”

  “We need to tell Kate.”

  “Huh?”

  “You heard me. We need to tell Kate, Devon. We can’t keep hiding this from her. It’s going to make things worse.”

  Devon nibbled on her lip. It was a subject they had avoided almost as much as they had avoided Kate. Devon had turned down a lunch invitation on Tuesday, and Gina had done the same on Thursday, and it had to stop. “You’re right,” Devon said, tiny lines appearing around her eyes. “And you know what?”

  “What?”

  “I vote you tell her,” Devon said, tittering like a little girl as she dashed past Gina.

  Gina rushed to follow. “Why me?” she said, stepping into the bedroom. “She’s your sister.”

  “Yeah, but she’s your best friend,” Devon said, opening the wardrobe.

  “But she’s less likely to kill you than me.”

  “Do you really think she’ll be that mad?”

  “Honey,” Gina said, folding her arms. “I promised Kate years ago I’d never try anything with you. When she finds out about this, about us, she’s going to go ballistic.”

  “She’ll understand,” Devon said, putting on a robe. “It’s not like you converted me or something.” When Devon heard Gina sigh, she looked over at her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I wish it had been me,” Gina said, staring at the floor. “I wish I was your first.”

  Devon went over and tipped Gina’s face up. “If I had known you felt about me the way I felt about you, you would have been, but I never had a clue.”

  Gina sighed again. “And there’s a good reason for that, Devon. Seriously, Kate may have a really tough time with this.”