Outing of the Heart

by Lisa Ann Harper

  She indicated she was well pleased and turning to Tenille, suggested she take the seat against the wall. She herself had been here many times, it would be more interesting for her to look out.

  ‘Anyway, I’d rather look at you,’ she added gallantly.

  Tenille, feeling excited and full of eager anticipation, enjoyed the compliment and did not, as she would have done in the past, blush and retreat. Instead, with newfound confidence, she looked back into Sidonie’s eyes and simply nodded graciously.

  Once settled and drinks ordered, they spent some moments perusing the menu. A varied selection was on offer so it took time to come to a decision. Sidonie gave guidance from her previous experiences. Finally, Tenille chose the poached trout with baby carrots in a mustard and butter sauce. Sidonie opted for rack of rosemaried lamb and snow peas. They both decided on the baked potato with sour cream and chives.

  Sidonie cast about for familiar faces, but it was early yet. Tenille was surprised there were as many mixed tables as of the same gender. This she had not expected, but mixing together made more sense. She could not pick out the typical stereotype from either side, everyone looking very usual and normal. Why had she expected them to be outrageous? She guessed stereotyping had a lot to answer for.

  When it came time for dessert, neither had space. The evening had gone well and Sidonie was sitting back replete and content, enjoying her coffee and Tenille’s anecdotes, when she felt a presence behind her. A voice was saying: ‘I thought it was you. We’re across the way and I was so sure my eyes were not deceiving me.’

  She turned and looked into the well groomed visage of Dearne Baxter, looking a million dollars tonight, although the tell-tale flush of one who has imbibed liberally and is ready to take on the world, spoiled the air of sophistication.

  ‘Hello Dearne,’ Sidonie responded coolly. The last person she wanted in her life, right this minute, was a pleasure-seeking, woman-hungry, Ex. Not an Ex. really, but she had been smitten once. One weekend was all it had taken to show her the error of her ways. Dearne was a sophisticate who’d been the rounds, always hunting after that new thrill; the one butch who could make her feel more; experience the ultimate. But who knew what the ultimate was? Would Dearne know if she did achieve it? Well, she wasn’t interested and here was Tenille with inquiry in her eyes.

  ‘Hope you two had a good dinner.’ Dearne was looking pointedly from one to the other.

  ‘Oh Dearne … this is Tenille. Her first time here.’ “Now why did I add that?”

  ‘Hello. My name’s Dearne,’ throwing Sidonie another pointed look. ‘Mind if I plonk myself next to you?’ Not waiting for an answer, she sat on the upholstered bench and proceeded to direct all her conversation to Sidonie, who responded reluctantly, seeing no way of stopping the flow of this woman’s talk. Tenille, uncomfortable, could tell from Dearne’s behavior she knew Sidonie well and being already pretty tanked, looked fair set to renewing old ties; ones she could only guess at. Her brain began to struggle against the flooding tide of corrosive possibilities, surging into her mind. The drift of the talk began to make it clear they had been of an intimate nature. She sat rigid through their exchange, her face stony, an exploding jealousy rushing through her body, leaving a shaking weakness in its wake. Her thoughts continued to churn.

  At last Sidonie found the opening she needed. The dinner was not winding down at all how she had pictured it. ‘Dearne, your friends will be missing you and you wouldn’t want them to leave without you.’ Her intonation was emphatic.

  Dearne stopped in mid-reminiscence. Looking across at her former table she saw several of the party standing up.

  ‘Oh, you’re right as usual, Sugar. I’d best be off. So nice to have met you er … well, yes.’ She looked at Tenille then away again at her friends. As she stood, the cloth dragged on her thigh which caused Tenille’s glass to topple. Fortunately there was not enough wine to reach the white dress, but the ensuing concern of those around, caused Tenille’s cheeks to flame bright red. No embarrassment for Dearne it seemed. Her only contribution was to say vacuously: ‘Silly me,’ as everyone else fussed to put things right. Finally, she took herself out of the confusion and Sidonie was able to heave a sigh of relief.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ she apologized, floundering in waves of guilt, but there was no warmth in Tenille’s: ‘Not a problem.’

  “Damn that woman. Why did she have to come along and spoil things?” she groaned. What to do? By now a fresh cloth was on the table and they were alone once more.

  ‘Let’s have one nightcap and then we’ll be on our way. What do you say?’ She did not want to leave with Dearne’s voice ringing in their ears. Delaying their exit would be a smart move. Two Irish Coffees arrived. Sidonie would only taste hers; too much alcohol made her sleepy and tonight of all nights, she wanted to be on the ball.

  Their former mood of closeness was hard to regain. Perhaps an explanation would clear up any misunderstandings? She launched into an account of that one-time fling with Dearne. Tenille listened in silence, her face controlled, purged of expression. By the end of the story, but really there wasn’t much to tell, Sidonie felt she had been somewhat mollified, although the face didn’t show its previous radiance. She could do no more; time would have to shorten the distance between them. Tenille was over-reacting anyway. Dearne was someone way in the past; a long time over and done with, despite how she had made it look tonight.

  ‘Shall we go?’ she suggested, the voice coming out short and gruff.

  Tenille smiled her agreement, feeling she’d been too touchy getting so upset; wanting to be close again.

  ‘Yes. It will be good to be out in the fresh air.’

  They split the bill and Sidonie took it to the front desk, by the bar. There they saw Dearne and her group, all talking noisily around one of the high drinks tables. She spotted Sidonie at the cashier’s and made an unsteady beeline to her side. By this time she was really flying high. Draping her arm over Sidonie’s shoulder, she stood directly in front of her, her back against the counter and delivered in slurred syllables: ‘You know … you were the best. I never w..wanted you to go out of my life. Come b..back, Sid. You and I could r..really go places.’ She bent her head down to rest on Sidonie’s other shoulder. Gently, but firmly, she lifted Dearne’s head and removed her arm. She didn’t let it show that she was furious, but her eyes smouldered, dark with anger and frustration. This woman was ruining everything. She felt the rage grow inside; knew she had to check its fierce fury. She could snap and she didn’t want to, not here, not now. Tenille’s dismay was palpable at this uninhibited display of desire. Others around them stopped to watch the unfolding of this squalid little drama, intrigued as to its outcome.

  The young man behind the counter was waiting to hand over change. Under the circumstances, his smile had disintegrated as he, too, was caught up in the scenario. He was also aware of Tenille and the distress that was overflowing to the rim of her pride. She felt cast adrift on the rocky crags of grinding resentment and wished herself anywhere but here.

  Sidonie swallowed the bile rising to the back of her throat. ‘I’m leaving now,’ she declared slowly with a chokingly controlled delivery. ‘I want to collect my change.’ The voice was chilling as she spoke through clenched jaws, stepping around Dearne, lips now tightly closed into a thin line. She simply nodded to the checkout, then spun on her heel. Dearne moved to one side, feeling the force of that anger, like a coiled spring released. The intense stare from the blue, blue eyes had caused her bravado to crumble, leaving her helpless and exposed. She turned back to her friends. She didn’t want to be alone, not tonight. The hubbub of excited voices returned with even more volume, as the two women crossed the threshold into the cool of the night.

  Sidonie was in an afflicting despair. The evening had been totally ruined. The night shot to hell. They walked together but alone, along their own invisible lines on the sidewalk. They were sufficiently apart to ensure there would be no inadvertent contac
t.

  Tenille was very hurt. This time with Sidonie, which she had looked forward to so intensely … she wished it had never been planned. She didn’t want to go back to the Guesthouse. She didn’t want to be here with this girl. A muscle worked at the corner of her jaw. What did she think she was doing anyway? This wasn’t her life … a sordid little assignation. A one night stand in a downtown motel. No … that wasn’t being fair. Gaslight Guesthouse was charming. She was just so confused and upset. That awful woman had shown her part of Sidonie’s past and she hadn’t liked it. She didn’t want the knowledge, but was being forced to bear witness. She found it repugnant and was repelled by the whole idea of the two of them together in some sexual frenzy. Well, if that was what Sidonie thought she could get from her then she had another think coming. She was better than that. She felt herself to be nothing like that woman and certainly not so desperate in her need, as to make an exhibition of herself. And … above all, not in front of all those people.

  The night was breathless. In the still air, her determined footsteps echoed loudly, her stride more forceful as these thoughts raced through her mind and entangled her heart, forever caught it seemed, with the image of Dearne imprinted there.

  Silently, Sidonie observed the signs and the steely light in those black eyes. Her mood sank into one of hopeless dejection, as moment by moment she relived that final, insensate exchange. Her one chance gone. Destroyed by that stupid bitch, whom she’d never really liked anyway. One of her ‘mistakes’, before she was less impressionable and knew better. She risked a quick glance at Tenille’s face. It was closed off, the eyes hard, as they stared in front, the mouth set and the whole body bristling. She knew this was seriously bad. Should she offer to take her home? Forget the room? It might be best. Recovery from this emotional calamity was impossible. What a shit awful disaster.

  They arrived at the House and Sidonie let them in with the key. It wasn’t that late, but they both moved lightly over the polished wood floors and even on the carpeted stairs, not wanting to draw attention. Once in the room, neither knew what to do. They didn’t speak, nor could they look at each other. Sidonie moved over to the bedside and flicked on each lamp in turn. This threw the bed into high relief, casting the corners of their room into undefined shadow. Signs of their previous intimacy acted now as an embarrassment; the wineglasses and flowers; Tenille’s discarded lingerie.

  ‘I’m going down the hall,’ she announced, in a tight, seething voice. Sidonie looked across at her, but said nothing. Alone, she pondered the situation. How could she bring her round? Could she bring her round? This time was ‘make or break.’

  She slipped off her evening clothes and quickly dropped her loose nightshirt over her head; it fell almost to mid-thigh. After giving her hair a sharp brush she proceeded to pull back the quilt, fold it neatly across the foot of the bed, as though there was to be an inspection. She loosened the sheet from the sides and propped the four, plump pillows into a reading position. On the night table were tourist pamphlets, detailing places of interest. They would do. She jumped under the sheet and began to thumb them over. She didn’t want to be forced to look deliberately away when Tenille returned. She couldn’t have said what she was seeing, but her eyes were glued to the pages.

  She was shocked to see Sidonie reading. “How could she, as though nothing has happened?” She had decided to go home. She’d not stay; it was all so ridiculous. Now here they were and it seemed she was expected to undress and crawl in. Fat chance. She strode over to the dressing table and began noisily, to gather up her belongings. She was just about to tell Sidonie what she wanted when she heard her voice, soft behind her asking in an undertone, to come sit at the bedside. She hesitated, then put down her stuff. Sidonie had set the papers to one side and was sitting, cross-legged, the sheet still covering her lower half, but was now turned towards her.

  She moved forward, reluctantly, perching herself on the side opposite saying nothing, head lowered. Sidonie reached out and took her hand in her left and lightly rested her other on her arm. She slid her index up and down the length of Tenille’s forearm, slowly and deliberately. She didn’t say anything. Tenille could feel the burning heat of this moving touch on her flesh. It seemed to seer her, its intensity almost more than she could bear.

  ‘Tenille …’ Sidonie’s voice caressed her gently, ‘ …look at me.’ She raised her gaze, eyes searching the beautiful face. Those other eyes, dark pools of the purest blue in the subdued light, mirrored her heart. She could feel herself falling into those pools, drawn against her will, further and further into the vortex, closer and closer to the centre of Sidonie’s being. In her heart she knew she wanted to be here. Here … where her life began and ended. She wanted no other intrusion and no reminder that anyone else had existed before her. It was unreasonable, she was fully aware, but despite the rational thought this was how she felt. Oh, why had that terrible woman come along? She had spoiled everything. Sidonie was speaking now, as she tried to stop her mind and pay attention, her eyes focusing on the flowing curves of her lips as she spoke, the voice deep and a little rough.

  ‘Tenille,’ She began again, as she forced her voice past a sudden lump in her throat. ‘That woman has nothing to do with us. She’s from a long time ago. A past in which I was much younger, somewhat impetuous and at times, rather foolish. Tenille, I have learned by experience; experiences which have shaped me to be what I am today.’ Tenille looked askance and Sidonie saw the face of a stranger, but something there kept her.

  ‘I know it’s a hackneyed phrase, but it still holds true,’ she acknowledged and continued: ‘Am I right, it’s how I am now that you like?’ She waited for the response, her mouth dry. Eventually Tenille nodded. She didn’t look up. ‘You have a past too, don’t you?’ she asked quietly, although her heart was pounding. Again Tenille nodded mutely. ‘Perhaps, when you think about it, there are things you wouldn’t want brought out to public view, for everyone to pass judgement on?’

  Devon. She felt the rebuke. Still silence.

  ‘Very well. Can we not put that horrible woman behind us? Not let her spoil our precious time together?’ Sidonie’s voice was pleading. While she waited for Tenille, she took her right hand from her arm and put it about her shoulders, drawing her gently down towards her. Tenille’s body yielded and softly settled. She released her hand to caress, oh so slowly, her face and neck, where they lay against her shoulder.

  She whispered into her hair: ‘Let me help you take off your things. Then you can come rest beside me.’

  She sat Tenille up and raised herself onto her knees, the sheet falling away. Continuing to look down, Tenille was acutely aware of her strong thighs below the hem of the T-shirt.

  Sidonie untied the sash at her waist and set it down on the night table. She felt her undo the buttons at the front of her dress, the movements not quick, but light. The fleeting touch tantalized her breasts which rapidly responded, being traitorous to her resolve. Her mind was definitely not in charge. Sidonie looked at this vulnerable woman before her, her eyes softening to a caress.

  ‘Does your beautiful dress come up or do you like to step out of it?’

  Tenille moved her position slightly and murmured: ‘It comes up.’ Sidonie gathered the downy fabric in her hands and raised it upwards above Tenille’s head, lifting her own body up to make sure of clearing her out-stretched arms. This brought Tenille’s face on a direct line with Sidonie’s crotch. She could see the outline of her crisp bush against the T-shirt. She flushed hotly and felt a throbbing, deep inside.

  Sidonie took the dress and laid it on the chaise long, on the other side of the room. On her return she stood behind Tenille, but didn’t touch her. Gradually she leaned back onto her thighs and rested her head against the firm hardness of her belly. Now Sidonie bent over, and kissing the top of her head let her hands slide down the sides of Tenille’s chest. They lightly brushed past the swell of her breasts and she felt her body quiver, sending a catching thrill deep to h
er own centre. A hot gush of wetness made her press her breasts down into Tenille’s shoulders. Curved over her like this, she could enfolded her in her arms and continue to slide her hands down the slight roundness of her belly, stopping short of the white briefs. Suddenly Tenille turned around in the encompassing grasp and pressed herself against her thighs and stomach, her head now at the level of her waist, her breasts pressing against her crotch. It was all she could do to balance. Tenille was sobbing into her body.

  ‘Sid … I’m s … so sorry I got so mean and angry. I know it wasn’t your fault, I just wanted to strike out. I was hurting.’ A single tear of anguish squeezed from the corner of her eye and sparkled, like a diamond, on the smooth, gold skin of her arm encircling Sid’s butt in a fierce hold. Sid’s hands stroked her back as she crooned reassurances. She wanted this woman beyond all bearing, but knew she had to move slowly. Her emotions were still tumultuous; she needed to steer her into calmer waters. Gently, she grasped her arms and loosened their tight grip.

  ‘I’m going to get us each a glass of cold water. I’ll be right back.’ She shrugged into the fleecy robe and padded quietly, but quickly down the hall.

  In her absence, Tenille decided to get under the sheet. She was beginning to feel foolish at her over-reaction. She didn’t undress further, but lay back against the pillows, loosening her hair then running her hands through. When Sidonie saw her she thought she had never looked more ravishing than now, in this soft, pink light. She leaned over and lightly kissed the tip of her nose before handing her the glass. As Tenille sipped, she walked round to her side of the bed and putting down her own glass, turned off the lamp. Only one soft globe illuminated them and details of their features were blurred. She thought it might ease the tension still further, not to be spot lit, yet she wanted to make the most of this time to indulge her visual sense. There was no intention of either keeping her eyes closed, or her head averted.