Big, Bad Wolf

by Essex, Bridget

  “Does that mean yes?” she pressed, her beautiful, full lips curving up into a heartbreaking smile.

  “Yes,” I whispered. My heart was beating too fast, and I couldn’t really breathe, but I wasn’t paying attention to things like that. I was staring at her, spellbound.

  “How about tonight? I'll come when you get off work,” she said then, and was gone, hands still in pockets as she grinned confidently, striding fast and graceful out of the foyer, into the snowy parking lot. She turned a corner, and I couldn't see her.

  I didn't breathe or blink for a long moment, and then I coughed a little. So I drank a mouthful of water, washing the cool liquid down a throat parched and hot. I felt the water unfurl, cool and sweet, in my hot stomach.

  Impossibly…that had just happened.

  ---

  “You've been on edge today, Megan,” said Sally, that afternoon, “is there anything bothering you?”

  Bothering wasn’t really the right word. I still hadn't processed the morning's events. Something bizarrely wonderful had happened to me.

  I still hadn’t processed the events or understood them—and I probably n ever would.

  I shook my head and closed the office door behind me. “You wanted to see me, Sally?” I sitting, sitting down across the desk from her and crossing my legs at the ankles.

  Sally lit her cigarette from the scented candle on her desk (plumeria), both fire hazards, and both not allowed. It didn't matter to Sally. She drew a puff of acrid nicotine and blew it out into the foggy space between us. “Are you…okay?” she asked me.

  “Yes.” Technically, I was more okay than I’d ever been. “I…I think I have a date tonight,” I said haltingly, memorizing the grain of her desk, refusing to look at her face, at her eyes.

  There was silence, and I chanced a glance at my boss. She looked surprised, thin brows arched over her pretty face giving away that surprise, but then she smoothed the expression away, took another puff of the cigarette.

  I was pretty certain that we were the only lesbians (or, at least, the only two who admitted it) in the village. I wondered if she was thinking about all of the times she’d asked me out on a date. I wondered if she was thinking about all of the times I’d refused her. I crossed my legs again, the other way, feeling uncomfortable as the silence dragged on.

  “I’m…happy for you, Megan,” the words hung between us, as heavy as the smoke. Her eyes burned into me, nothing like Kara's. There was a different hunger there. And a sadness.

  “I'm sorry, Sally,” I stood and smoothed my skirt, my nervous habit as I tried to give her a smile.

  “You don't need to be sorry,” her voice was soft in the silence, but a bell rang at the front desk.

  “I'll get that.” I said, leaving the room. I couldn't think of anything else to say.

  Five o'clock came, and the soft chime of the old grandfather clock in the foyer echoed through the empty library. I'd been straightening up for an hour, the last hour that was usually slow. There had been no patrons today during that hour, and I’d cleaned up things pretty well. As I gathered my coat and gloves from the entryway, I turned and looked at the closed door to Sally’s office—the door that had remained close since I’d come out of it. There really wasn’t any reason to say goodbye to her.

  So I didn’t.

  I’d never been attracted to Sally. I couldn’t place my finger on it as to exactly why. She was handsome and she was always very nice to me. We just didn’t click together.

  But now, as I stepped out into the twilight, drawing the coat closer to my chin, I sighed out into the chill, my breath coming out in a fog like a ghost as I turned to look at the parking lot. I’d never really thought there was someone for me, but now maybe there was a chance at someone. And if there was someone for me, surely there was someone for Sally, too.

  Kara was standing beneath the old, guttering lamppost in the parking lot, leaning against it in her jeans and blouse, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But it was thirteen degrees, and my breath crystallized as I sighed into the air. She must be freezing.

  “You need a coat,” was how I greeted her. I really wanted to say: “Thank you for asking me on a date,” but I thought it’d be awkward, so I became accusatory instead.

  “Nah,” she inclined her head to me, her eyes dancing in the blue light. “I'm fine. You look lovely.”

  I looked exactly as I had when she'd seen me last. I think she said it because it's there in the book of nice things to say on a first date. But she said it with this raw sort of meaning, her voice low and guttural, and with this intensity that made the words stand out in the air between us. I blushed in the half-light. I couldn’t help it.

  “Thank you,” I murmured. “You do, too.”

  So there we were, at a standstill beneath the lamppost. I shifted from foot to foot as Kara's breath came out in short puffs. She must be so cold.

  “Do you want some coffee?” she asked, then, resolutely as she grinned at me. It sounded like a plan.

  “Yes,” I agreed. So it was.

  We walked, shoulder to shoulder, down the main street of the village. Though it was only five o'clock, most of the shops had already closed up for the night. People didn't normally roam the streets past dark here--what was the point? There was nothing to do. “Go home, stay warm with your families” was the motto of the day.

  The reflection of the warm windows from the coffee shop was a patch of light in an otherwise deserted, snowy street. The warm scents assaulted us even before Kara got the door for me. She held it open with a cheerful smile, and I found myself staring down at my boots as I passed the threshold.

  No woman had ever smiled at me like that before.

  The place was practically deserted, though smooth jazz rolled out of the speakers, and the inviting smell of coffee pervaded everything. The barista took our orders (two small coffees), and proceeded to ask me how my day had gone, and if we'd gotten in any new and exciting books. It was the same conversation that I had with her everyday, but now it was different, new…exciting. I had a woman standing next to me a head taller than I was. She had her hands in her pockets, and a wide grin on her face. She looked at me as if I was the only other person in the entire world. So I told the barista that yes, we had gotten in exciting books, and she should stop in tomorrow. And she promised she would. I began to wonder what new, exciting books I could possibly give her, since we hadn’t gotten any new books in months.

  We sat down at a cold booth, the plastic of the seats sending a shiver through me, even through the coat and skirt, and we nursed our mugs of house blend with freezing fingers. Her hands were so elegant, long fingers gripping the mug tightly to draw out its warmth. I nursed my cup gently, taking my hands away from the chunky pottery when it became too hot for me. The heat didn't seem to phase Kara.

  “So,” I smiled, staring down at my coffee. “Kara. That's an unusual name.”

  “My mother gave it to me, and she's unusual,” she took a sip of the coffee, even though it was still practically scalding. “Why are you named Megan?”

  “My mother, too. I wasn’t named for anyone in particular. She just liked the sound of it.” I paused, then, because Kara was leaning on her elbows easily against the table, her smile warm, inviting as her fingers curled around the mug. I think I was blushing again, hoping very, very much that she wasn’t noticing.

  “I really liked the art books you gave me. I've been thinking about them since I read them,” she fingered the patterns on the pottery, chunky spirals that twisted slowly beneath her fingertips. I couldn’t help but watch her fingers, and I couldn’t help but think of where I’d imagined those fingers. “There’s so much raw power to art, I think,” she said, her lips twitching as she tried to keep her face serious.

  “Yes,” I said, and swallowed. “Definitely. I've always felt that way, anyway. I used to paint,” I finished and then cursed myself that I’d be so clunky.

  “You did?” There was so much eagerness
in those words. I looked at Kara, and her face lit up. “What kind of painting?”

  “I did a bit of everything,” I folded my hands to keep from biting my nails. “Oils, acrylics, I liked watercolors. I did sketching and inks and colored pencils, too.”

  “That's amazing. Can I see some of your work?” She was still eager, and I found myself blushing, becoming shy under so much enthusiasm.

  “I don't really do it anymore,” I said, and watched as her face fell in disappointment. “I wasn't really good, you see,” I muttered, “so I stopped.”

  “If you loved art, why did you give it up?”

  “I never said I loved it...” I started.

  “I could tell,” she cocked her head, gazing at me fiercely, her eyes burning. “There was a certain way you said it. Your voice lifted, your posture shifted. I liked that.”

  I stared at my coffee very hard, waiting for it to do something. She noticed a subtle change in my body?

  “Anyway,” Kara cleared her throat. “We're treading into deeper territory on this first date.” When she smiled, her entire face lit up, shone with impassioned light. It was so genuine...

  “Is this a first date, then?” I asked, surprising myself with the question.

  “Yes,” she said with conviction. I didn’t question it.

  We sat for a moment in companionable silence. I sipped at my drink, inhaling the pleasant aroma of steam. Finally, Kara cleared her throat and leaned forward.

  “We can have another one of these, yes?”

  “This one isn't finished yet.”

  “I'm just making certain.” Again a grin. It was infectious, so hopeful. I smiled, too.

  “Yes, then. Absolutely.”

  That was how it began. This is how it ended:

  At my doorway. I'd let us into the apartment building, and, hand in hand, we'd climbed the stairs together. My heart thundered in my chest, and I wondered how this would go. I didn't know what to do.

  I was ridiculously nervous, but I wanted it.

  “Goodnight,” Kara said, and she leaned forward at the waist gently, brushing her warm lips against my cheek. She smelled of coffee and cream, and I turned my face to hers, but she had already moved away, the mischievous smile playing on her lips again.

  “It’s…it’s so cold,” I called after her as she climbed back down the stairs. “Do you want me to drive you home?” My heart was beginning to sink in my chest. That was…it?

  “Don't worry, it's not far for me to walk,” she called back. She paused on the staircase down, her hands shoved into her pockets, her lifting her eyes to me. I shivered beneath that hungry gaze. “I'll see you tomorrow night?”

  “Tomorrow?” My heart leapt up at the thought.

  “I couldn't possibly wait.” Her smile grew impossibly brighter, and then she’d turned, trotting back down the steps and around the corner.

  I swallowed, placed a hand over my heart, tried to will the too-fast thumping to slow down. She said she couldn't possibly wait. I opened the door, let myself in, shut it behind me and leaned against it, waiting for my heart to stop thundering in my chest, stop the blood from thundering through my veins and head and limbs and hands, hands that couldn’t possibly stop shaking.

  I couldn't believe this was happening. To me. Me!

  But it was.

  I drew myself a bath, almost crawled in with my pantyhose on before I realized what I was doing, that I’d not taken off my underwear either. With a chuckle, I peeled it off with numb hands, and stumbled into the scalding water without really feeling it.

  I lay down in the water, watched the steam curl, felt my heart rise.

  She'd picked…me.

  I was ridiculously happy. The water made me lightheaded, and I traced patterns on the surface, on my own skin, triangles and circles that shone wetly on my legs. And I couldn’t stop smiling.

  Chapter 3

  The second night, she met me in the parking lot, just like before. Still wearing no coat, still probably freezing, but when she took my hand this time, slipping my fingers through hers like we’d been doing this a long time, like we fit well together, she was hot to the touch.

  Almost like she was fevered.

  “How was work?” she asked, like we’d been together twenty years and were walking together to get dinner like we always do.

  “Good,” I told her, not exactly telling her that my boss had been frosty to me all day (that was okay), and that a little kid had thrown up all over some Clifford books (the flu was going around, and that was okay, too). Because, let’s be honest: the day had been good.

  Because I’d known, the entire time, that I had her to look forward at the end of it.

  “Good,” she repeated, glancing sidelong at me and practically purring as she leaned down and brushed her warm lips over my forehead. An unbidden shiver moved through me, going straight down to my toes as she squeezed my hand. “I have something I want to show you.”

  The night was so chill that our breath came out like ghosts before us as we walked beneath the streetlights on the shoveled sidewalks. The lights were still up from Christmas, and they twinkled brightly in the trees along the street and looping between the streetlamps.

  We were headed toward the town park, I knew, as we turned right onto Cedar Street. The town park was where they’d had the tree lighting ceremony over the Thanksgiving holiday, was where the holiday tree was still up, still strung with hundreds and hundreds of lights, the tree that still bore the decorations that the kids had made in the children’s room at the library in the first week of December. As we walked toward it, I noticed that the little ice rink still hadn’t been taken down. Every year they flood a part of the park, turn it into a little rink where kids can skate with their parents. They do it just for the holidays, and usually have it down by the end of December.

  But it was January…and somehow, it was still here.

  Kara stepped out onto the ice.

  A cold finger of wind almost lifted the hat off my head as she held tightly onto my hands, walking backward on the ice a little as she grinned at me. Then she stepped off the slippery surface, trotting over to the little grandstand that stood along the edge of the rink.

  She returned to me with two pairs of ice skates.

  “Oh no,” I chuckled, shaking my head, crossing my arms. “I can’t skate to save my life!”

  “Really? I thought everyone could ice skate!” exclaimed Kara, shaking her head as she all but threw herself down into a snow drift to sit and take off her boots. She began to pull the skates onto her feet. “These were left over from the holidays…” Her mouth curled up at the corners mischievously, even as she looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes. “And I thought you’d enjoy it.”

  I shook my head, arms folded. “I’ll make a fool of myself!” I groaned with a chuckle as she finished tightening her laces, holding up the ice skates to me with wide, pleading eyes, even as she laughed, too.

  “You’ll never be a fool to me,” she murmured, and then she was kneeling on one knee, one ice skate out behind her, and one skate under her. She was balancing perfectly on the blade and her knee. “Let me put them on for you,” she cajoled. “Please?”

  I regretted it almost immediately, but what could I say when a beautiful woman was on her knees before me? I stood awkwardly on one foot as Kara carefully took off my boot, slipping it over my ankle, and cradling my foot in her hand. I was self-conscious as she slipped the skate on over my foot, cradling my ankle, and then expertly knotting the laces. Her hands strayed to my calf, her long, warm fingers cupping my leg as she then took up my next foot.

  I wobbled on that one skate on the ground, put out my hand and caught myself and held myself up by gripping her shoulder tightly. But she knelt there like a strong rock, completely immovable, and I stayed upright clinging tightly to her. Again, her warm fingers were against the back of my leg, and I shuddered beneath her touch.

  Then she was standing, and I was wearing two ice skates.


  Which meant that I was falling backwards.

  She caught me easily, all but sweeping me off my feet as she held me tightly in her arms. “It’s okay,” she told me softly, smoothly, her beautiful face engaged in a warm smile. “We’re going to step over to the ice, okay? Together…”

  Well. It was sort of together. Mostly she dragged me gently while I wobbled on the thin blades of the ice skates.

  I really was hopeless. But I wasn’t noticing the fact that I couldn’t really balance. I wasn’t noticing the fact that I was making a pretty good fool of myself.

  All I really noticed was her. The warmth of her fingers as they curled around my waist, all but holding me up (actually, really holding me up), the warmth of her palms that I could feel even through the thickness of my coat. She held me tightly and pushed me gently forward, and I was leaning against her, then, and she held me up.

  And I suppose that I was skating.

  I wasn’t, really. She was pushing me from behind, her hard, muscular body against my back, so warm that she made me shiver in the chill wind.

  “Look, you’re doing it!” she whispered against my ear, smile making her voice soft and warm. I smiled in spite of myself, but then I was starting to fall to the right. She held me tightly, didn’t let me.

  We skated across the entire surface of the rink, which is only about twenty feet wide, but it was still the most I’d stayed upright in an ice rink my entire life. “I think that was pretty great!” I told her, once we reached the edge. I turned around, or rather wobbled around, but as she let me go to let me turn, I began to fall.

  I fell into a snow bank, at least. Which meant the only thing injured was my dignity.

  “Are you all right?” asked Kara, kneeling down beside me in one lovely, swift movement as I began to laugh.

  “Thanks for that,” I told her, but I meant it as I stared up into her eyes.

  She smiled, her eyes bright in the twilight. “We need to get you somewhere warm. Maybe get a warm drink in you.”