Restless On A Road Trip: A Lesbian Romance

by Nicolette Dane

  Alina didn’t see me as I saddled up to the counter and placed the $5 tasting fee atop the glazed wood. I hung there and waited, smiling, pushing a hand through my hair to fluff it up a bit. I wanted to look as glamorous as she did. I wanted to convey that I was open and free and easy and that we were going to have a lot of fun together. I mean, I didn’t know what I was doing. But you’ve got to fake it until you make it sometimes, right? You just need to roll with it and let providence be your guide.

  I saw Alina’s eyes light up once she saw me. Rushing over, she ascended up some hidden step behind the counter and leaned over, wrapping her arms around my neck and hugging me tight, almost burying me in her embrace. I admit that I was unable to help myself from looking down the front of her blouse, which billowed open as she leaned, offering me a view of her ampleness, covered only by a thin lacy purple bra, her chest lightly freckled from the sun. An excited tingling moved through me.

  “Shan!” beamed Alina as she pulled back from our hug and grinned wildly at me. “You made it.”

  “I’m here,” I said, offering a half-embarrassed shrug.

  “I can’t believe this is actually happening,” said Alina. “It’s been 15 years.” Alina had an easiness to her voice, something laid back and almost slurring, like she moved at her own pace and that pace was deliberate and gradual.

  “Way too long,” I said. I reached out and lightly took a strand of her hair, giving it a little flip. “Wow, Alina, you’re such a beautiful sight.”

  “Thank you,” she said, her eyes fiery, almost dripping sex. “You look amazing, Shan, you’ve always been so pretty.”

  “Oh stop,” I said, looking off. “C’mon.”

  “Let me get you a glass of wine,” said Alina, pulling a clean glass from under the counter and taking up an already opened bottle. “And take this back,” she said, pushing my $5 back at me.

  “Are you sure?” I said.

  “You work here now,” said Alina. “The wine comes with the job.”

  I had a feeling I was going to really love working at Wild Love Winery.

  “This is our 2013 Pinot Noir,” said Alina as she poured my glass much fuller than I expected. “The grapes are grown right here. You’ll notice red berry flavors, complimented by an elegant oak and a subtly earthy finish. It’s one of my favorites.”

  “Wow,” I said, picking the glass up by the stem and looking into it. It wasn’t as thick as the red wine I was used to drinking. It was much lighter. “This is a large pour.”

  “We’re celebrating,” said Alina with an impish grin. “Let me know what you think.”

  I took a sip and tried to savor it, pretending like I knew what I was doing. The truth was that while I loved to drink wine, I had a penchant for the cheap stuff and I had no experience in “tasting” wine for whatever it was you were supposed to taste.

  “It’s good,” I said. “I like it. I don’t drink the good stuff very often.”

  “Oh, it’s not very expensive,” said Alina, putting the stopper back into the wine bottle. “It’s under $20.”

  “Really?” I said. “That’s not bad. The wine is good!”

  “I’m glad you like it,” said Alina coolly, her full lips curling over and exposing her bright teeth.

  The wine was good but it was made all the better by the presence of Alina. I could feel her inside of me. It made me so excited. I was impatient to connect with her, to catch up and see what happened during our 15 years apart, and to just gaze on her lovely face. She had the faintest of laugh lines at the corners of her eyes and lips, but her skin was still quite youthful, skin that colored nicely thanks to her Mexican heritage, a heritage you wouldn’t assume at first as her other half was Irish. You might find her pale in the winter and deeply tan in the summer. That’s what I remember, anyway.

  “You keep drinking that,” said Alina. “I’ve got to go help those people over there.” She nodded to one side with her head, but her eyes stayed locked with mine.

  “No problem,” I said. “Is Mattie around? Will I get to meet her soon?”

  “She’ll be around tomorrow,” said Alina. “I’ll show you your room at the house tonight and you’ll meet with her in the morning to get the run down.” Alina paused in her thought, crooked her head to one side and smiled at me. “Oh Shan,” she continued. “It’s so amazing to see you after all these years. I hate that we lost touch.”

  “We’re in touch now,” I said, mimicking her smile and then taking another sip.

  “We’re in touch now,” Alina repeated wistfully.

  “Do your thing,” I said, grinning demurely and looking off. “I think those people are getting impatient.”

  “Right!” she said with a small chuckle. “Don’t go anywhere. We’re closing shortly.” Alina offered me one more smile before she scurried off to the other side of the tasting counter to help some customers.

  I leaned on the counter, sipping my wine, and watched Alina as she worked. It was so romantic, being at a fancy winery in Michigan’s grape appellation. I couldn’t stop my flustering and heady thoughts of Alina’s beauty and sheer sexiness as I witnessed her in her element. Admit it, you would lust after the pretty woman behind the counter at the wine tasting room. That’s what they want you to do. It gets you to drink a little more wine, lower your inhibitions, and probably spend more money. And I would be that very woman soon enough. That gave me a tickle. I felt like I was reinventing myself.

  As Alina leaned forward to help the customers make a decision, her finger pointing on the menu and explaining a little something about each wine, I noticed her blouse pull up just a bit at the back and reveal her gentle flesh, a sculpted dimple on either side of the small of her back just above her rear. She was tanned down there, too, and I could see the slightest hint of light peach fuzz. I took a big gulp of wine and steadied myself.

  I couldn’t believe how wild I was feeling in that moment. It was a wonderful anticipation, an excited foreboding, that I hadn’t felt in some time. My old life was beginning to melt away and I was really starting to give myself into my summer in Traverse City with Alina and this amiable glass of wine.

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  An Excerpt From: Hotel Hollywood

  A Lesbian Romance

  Let’s set the scene. The camera pans in slowly toward a figure slumped down at her desk, the reception desk of a classically ornate, almost Victorian style, hotel. Think reds and purples, dark wood, low light. The hotel is quiet, mostly empty, though it’s been kept up pretty nicely. However, this figure at the counter — a young woman with dark dirty blonde hair, mostly brunette if we’re being honest, and a sun kissed visage — appears bored, tired, unsure as to why she’s even sitting behind that desk. Few people come in to the hotel as it’s off the beaten path, centered on Main Street in a forgotten town on the west side of Michigan. It’s not that far from Lake Michigan, really, but there are so many other nicer resort towns that Champlain often gets forgotten about.

  This hotel is the Hotel Champlain. This young woman is me, Audra Durand.

  I grew up here in Champlain and never left. It didn’t seem like such a big deal at first but now that I’m well into my 27th year, I’m starting to panic a little bit. At one point, probably back when I was a baby and into my early childhood, this town wasn’t so bad. We had an economy. We had a population. But it was all mostly based on manufacturing because even though we’re close to Lake Michigan, Champlain never really set itself up as a resort town like some of the other names you might be more familiar with. You know, Saugatuck or Ludington. Champlain often gets overlooked and our hotel definitely suffers for it.

  The hotel has been around since the 20s. It was the social hub of the town back then, hosting diners at its restaurant, revelers dancing in its quaint ballroom. It fell into disrepair in the 70s and 80s, changed ownership myriad times, until it was bought on the cheap by its current owner, my boss Jake Poe, in the early 2000s. Jake has made a re
al go at getting the hotel functional and nice but since there’s no draw in our town — and to be honest the downtown area is kind of a mess with empty storefronts — we just don’t get the kind of traffic we might get if we were in a more desirable location.

  I don’t pretend to understand it. We’re close enough to the Lake and that’s good enough for me. The Lake is really the only thing I like about living in this town. It’s my best friend, maybe my only friend. I know that’s a sad-sack thing to say but it’s true. Champlain is one of those places from which most people my age left when they saw their out. And I had my shot around the age of 19.

  My best friend at the time, Katie, had moved to Chicago for school and after her first year there she invited me out to live with her. I had opted to stay at home and do the community college thing, as I was unsure what I wanted to do with my life, and even though Katie’s invitation intrigued me, something inside of me — fear, I guess — persuaded me to turn her down and stay put in Champlain. Big mistake. Slowly, over the next couple of years, Katie and I began to lose touch. Her parents moved away from Champlain so she stopped coming back. They moved to a cabin in Minnesota so she wasn’t even coming anywhere near Michigan on her breaks. But had I moved to Chicago, things might be a little different for me.

  It was like I woke up from a deep sleep and found myself essentially in a ghost town, a place filled with people unable to leave or perhaps too distracted to realize that the town was fading and with it… them. People like me. I don’t know, maybe I’m being naive when I think that all it would take was an enterprising developer, someone who could come up, spend a buttload of money, and turn this place into a thriving hub that’s only 20 minutes from the Lake. I think my boss Jake thought that of himself at one time. But now he was married to this albatross of an investment, a beautiful hotel in an otherwise dead town, and nobody else was coming in to save him.

  And now, add all this up, and I feel kind of trapped. I don’t really have the education credentials to get me into some decently paying office job, I don’t have much money, my work experience is sitting behind the reception desk of a floundering hotel, I live with my father who is just as lost as I am. I mean, the walls feel like they’re closing in here.

  The one thing, though, that makes me feel okay is that wonderfully huge body of water, Lake Michigan, ol’ Mishigami. It truly is the Third Coast of this country. I wish I could just live out of a van or something on the beach. I wish I could just walk into it, let the waves overtake me, and never walk out again. I could live in Lake Michigan, like some wonderful spirit child, protecting all those who came into its wake. A girl can dream, right?

  But would Lake Michigan actually give me the job of spirit guardian when I’ve only got hotel receptionist on my resume?

  As I continued to daydream about my life, Jake wandered up toward the desk. He was a tall man, kind of built, usually wearing a grey t-shirt and tan work pants. He was a contractor before he bought the hotel, having refurbished most of it himself, and he had the look of someone who’d worked outdoors a lot. Tanned, very short hair, about the same length as his beard. He was a good guy. I was grateful that he continued to pay me, even though it was only minimum wage.

  “Hey Audra,” said Jake. He saddled up to the desk and put his hands atop it. He had a smile on his face that was much bigger than he usually had. I mean, he was generally a pretty content person, despite the vacancy issues with the hotel, but he looked a little different today.

  “Hi Jake,” I said, straightening up in my chair. I had on a white polo shirt and tan pants, the same uniform I wore every work day here at the Hotel Champlain.

  “Give me a little more enthusiasm,” he said with joy in his eyes. I was taken aback by this positivity. It had become quite rare.

  “What are you talking about?” I said with a small laugh, a smile coming over my lips. Jake’s attitude was infectious.

  “I’m gonna need a little more enthusiasm out of you,” said Jake slyly. “Because of the guests we’re about to have.”

  “Are more ghosts checking in?” I said with some teasing snark.

  “Better,” he said. “I’ve been in talks with someone, and I kept this from you because I didn’t want to jinx it.” I could tell Jake was getting excited. “It turns out that because of some preferable tax credits, a Hollywood production is coming to Champlain to film a movie and most of the cast and crew are going to be staying right here at the hotel.”

  “What?!” I intoned, standing up from my chair and pounding the desk. “Are you for real?”

  “For real,” said Jake with a satisfied smile.

  “Oh my God,” I said. “Jake, congratulations! That’s amazing!”

  “Exciting, right?” he said. “Don’t you love movies?”

  “No,” I said with an enthused grin. “No, I find most movies to be shallow and poorly written. But I like when the hotel can make money!”

  “Let’s keep that positive attitude,” said Jake, wagging his finger at me. “And don’t let on that you’re not a fan of what these people do.”

  “Will do, boss,” I said.

  “So I’ve contracted with a local maid service to help us out for the six weeks that the movie is in town,” said Jake.

  “Wow,” I mused. “Six weeks?”

  “Six weeks,” he affirmed. “I’m going to get a couple of temp workers in here to help out. Miguel has a few buddies who can come in and help in the kitchen. I mean, we’re actually going to turn this place into a functioning hotel.”

  “It’ll be great to see it thrive,” I admitted.

  “And we’re going to have a real movie star here,” said Jake. “A couple, really, but one in particular that’s pretty hot right now. Have you heard of Kelsie Kent?”

  “The name is vaguely familiar,” I said. “But I don’t really follow that world. I’m more of a reader.”

  “Right,” he said. “Well, Kelsie Kent — you know, reddish hair, slim, hippie vibe?” said Jake, motioning to his own head when he described her hair color.

  “I really don’t,” I said. “I mean, I’ve heard the name but I couldn’t tell you what she looks like.”

  “Okay,” Jake acquiesced. “Well, she’s around your age, I believe, and she’s become a pretty big deal. My wife is a fan.”

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll be pleasant and accommodating to her and everybody else who walks through those doors.”

  “Perfect,” he said. “Oh Audra, I’m so thrilled about this. You have no idea. It’s been a rough couple of years. I’ve really thought about selling the hotel but, honestly, I don’t know who would buy it.”

  “Hopefully this turns things around,” I said. “Maybe this won’t be the last movie production to come through here with all these tax credits and such going on.”

  “Let’s hope so,” he said. After a beat, Jake slapped the desk. “Okay, I’m going to continue preparing. Thanks for sticking with me, Audra. I think we’re going to have a really exciting six weeks.”

  “I’m on board,” I said, smiling back at Jake. I really wanted him to succeed. Even though I felt pretty beaten down inside, desperate to figure out how to get out of this hotel and this town, I still wanted Jake’s business to bustle. A hotel is really lonely without guests.

  “Great,” said Jake. “Thanks Audra. Let’s do this!”

  With that Jake gave me one more smile and walked off from the front desk.

  When the movie production came to town, it was a bit crazy. People came out to watch all the trucks roll up and take over Main Street. It was unlike anything they’d ever seen before. Large semi-trucks lined the street, big white moving trucks not far behind. I mean, they had brought everything they needed. Champlain was like a blank canvas for them and they knew exactly how to paint it. Although the attitude around town was excited and starstruck, I didn’t feel the same way. I was just interested in doing my job, helping out Jake, and getting to the Lake whenever I could. Same as always.

  The lob
by was filled with people milling about, the din of excited chatter throughout. The production had completely taken over the hotel, so only people who were involved with the movie were allowed in. Everybody was waiting to get their room assignments and the person in charge of that, a young woman, scurried up to the desk and looked on to me with a smile.

  “I’m Jennifer,” she said with bubbly verve. She reached across the desk and shook my hand. “I’ve been in contact with Jake. He told me outside that you should have anything ready for us?”

  “Yep!” I said. I took a bundle of file folders from the desk, all combined by a single thick rubber band, and set it up on the reception desk ledge. I deftly removed the rubber band and spread the folders out. “So these are in order of floor,” I went on. “The top floor is the nicest and where we’re assuming you want to put the VIPs.”

  “Indeed,” said Jennifer, looking down at the folders and following along. I opened up one of the folders to show her.

  “Each room has a single key,” I said. “But we’ve got a master set of keys up front here and guests can leave their room key with me when they go out, just so they don’t have to take it with them and risk losing it.”

  “Gotcha,” she said.

  “These lists here,” I said, pulling out a list from one of the folders. “Tell you how each room is furnished. Bed size, all that. It should be pretty self-explanatory. And you can see this page has the room numbers and keys attached.”

  “This is perfect,” she said, following along with my finger as I pointed. She looked up and smiled. “And your name is…?”

  “Audra,” I said. “I’m the main receptionist here and you’ll probably be seeing a lot of me. If I’m not around, Jake will probably be behind the desk.”

  “Thank you, Audra,” said Jennifer, collecting the folders in her arms and causing the keys to jingle. “I’m sure we’ll be working a lot together.”

  “If I can do anything for you, don’t hesitate to ask,” I said happily. I always tried to put on a happy face for the guests.