Night Call

by Radclyffe

  “That’s not true,” Jett said quickly, not all of it. She’d enjoyed it, and wished she hadn’t. And she had been avoiding Gail. She didn’t have casual friendships with women, although she was perfectly comfortable having casual sex. Gail seemed to want something else—something she didn’t know how to give. Gail wanted intimacy, and Jett wasn’t certain if that included physical intimacy or not. And that was the problem. Even though Gail outranked her, they were close enough that they wouldn’t be crossing any significant lines. Those lines were crossed every day between male and female officers, and people looked the other way. But they were both women, and that was a big line, especially with them working together. Gail wasn’t a one-night stand in some liberty town, never to be seen again. Gail was a career officer she’d see every day.

  “Then where have you been?” Gail asked. “I’ve missed you.”

  “It’s just been crazy around here. I haven’t been out of the aircraft for more than a few hours at a time in a couple of days.” Jett knew the excuse was feeble, but part of her didn’t want to say no. And she could hardly tell Gail she didn’t trust herself around her.

  “I know. Whatever’s going on, it’s heating up. The casualty count is higher than I can ever remember it.”

  Jett felt a surge of relief, glad that Gail had accepted her excuse. She’d learned fairly early in life that on those rare occasions when she connected with someone, she connected on every level. When she let herself care about a woman, she wanted her, and more often than not that got her into trouble. So now she stopped it before it even started. Since she was incapable of doing things by degrees, she chose not to let any relationship go too far. Fortunately military life, especially for a lesbian, wasn’t conducive to anything long-term or even short-term serious.

  But things had already gone too far with Gail. Somehow, Gail had gotten past her normal defenses, and now Jett was powerless to keep her out. Just the same, she didn’t think she could offer Gail the kind of close physical contact that came naturally to Gail. Not without wanting, needing, to share everything. And there were a million reasons why that was a bad idea. No, the best course was to just stay away from her.

  “I’m not going to let you get away, you know,” Gail whispered, shifting almost imperceptibly until their shoulders touched. “I never got a chance to finish with you the other night.”

  Arousal punched through Jett, and if she hadn’t been sitting, she might have doubled over. She took a shaky breath, praying for the strength to resist.

  “Hey, Cap! Jett!”

  At the sound of her name, Jett stopped walking and stared around her in confusion. Where she expected to see an endless stretch of desert sand, she saw lush grass and thick leafy trees. The bright sun was hot but carried no hint of deadly intent. The morning was beautiful. Linda waved to her from the front seat of a dark blue convertible that idled at the curb, its top down and all the windows open.

  “Do you need a ride?” Linda asked.

  “No, thanks,” Jett said, still reeling from the too-fresh memories. She hadn’t been this bad since she’d first left the service. Now she could barely keep the images at bay even when awake, and she couldn’t figure out what was triggering them. Linda regarded her expectantly, and she wondered if she’d actually answered out loud. She repeated, “No, thanks. I don’t live that far away. Just up on Lincoln Drive.”

  “I’m going that way. I don’t live that far, either, but I’m glad I’m not walking after the night we had. I’ve just got to stop and pick up my daughter for a dentist appointment. She’s right on the way.” Linda waited a few seconds. “Come on, get in. It’s a beautiful morning for a ride.”

  Jett was about to refuse again and then realized she didn’t really want to. She didn’t want be left alone with the recurring images of those barren, arid months when nothing was truly as it seemed except the certainty that no one could outrun death. She walked over to the car, braced her hands on the frame, and vaulted the door into the passenger seat.

  “Thanks,” Jett said. “A ride would be nice.”

  Linda gave her an appreciative glance before pulling away from the curb. “Nice move.”

  Jett frowned. “Sorry?”

  “That little show of muscle getting into the car.”

  “I didn’t realize that sort of thing qualified as a move,” Jett said with a laugh.

  “You’re kidding.” Linda raised an eyebrow. “You fly a helicopter and you haven’t figured out that girls love macho studs?”

  “Can’t say as I have.” Jett tilted her head back and watched the clouds skim by overhead. The wind rushing by the car and the streaming clouds made her feel as if she were flying. Pleasantly relaxed, she answered without thinking. “Probably because I don’t qualify as either macho or studly.”

  “Where exactly did you grow up?” Linda signaled and turned left. “Somewhere the women were blind, obviously.”

  Ordinarily Jett would have been on edge with the direction of the conversation, but Linda wasn’t saying anything Jett hadn’t heard her say in one form or another to every other member of the team. Linda was easy to be around. She played at flirting, but Jett had the clear sense it was all in fun. The undercurrent of heat was missing. “On a farm where the nearest girl my age was twenty miles away and engaged by the time she was fifteen. And she wasn’t all that unusual.”

  Linda groaned. “No baby dykes?”

  “If there were, we didn’t recognize each other.”

  “Well, I’m here to tell you, we girls love handsome girls like you who handle big equipment with finesse.”

  Jett laughed. “I never realized my aircraft would be so useful.”

  “Oh yeah, that helicopter is so sexy.”

  Tristan’s voice came back to her, along with the image of the mesmerizing light in her eyes when she said, You make me wish I were a helicopter. A wave of longing broke over Jett and for a second she was breathless. Then she pictured Tristan in the car with the redhead who seemed very very glad to see Tristan. Tristan obviously had her pick of women, and probably said something similar to all of them. She definitely wasn’t saying no to what the redhead was offering.

  “The next time we’re headed into a thunderstorm,” Jett said, forcing a smile, “I’ll try sweet-talking my aircraft if things get bumpy.”

  “Never underestimate the power of sex appeal, Captain.”

  “I wasn’t a captain.”

  “What were you?”

  “Chief Warrant Officer.”

  “Oh, I like that.” Linda gave Jett a sultry look. “Chief.”

  Jett groaned and Linda laughed.

  “I’ll just be a minute.” Linda slowed and stopped on the shoulder in front of a wide expanse of immaculately groomed grass where several groups of youths in various uniforms ran up and down the field.

  “Take your time. I’m good.”

  Jett closed her eyes, determined not to think about Tristan or Gail or feelings she couldn’t understand and didn’t want. When the car rocked a little bit and a female voice very close to her ear murmured, “Hi. Who are you?” she opened her eyes. A blonde bent over her, her arms folded on the top of the door, her mouth inches from Jett’s. The position afforded Jett an unimpeded view down the blonde’s scoop-necked top, making it abundantly clear that she wore nothing underneath the tight white ribbed cotton. Her breasts were full and pale and, if the hint of pink was any indication, rose-tipped.

  “Jett McNally,” Jett said, straightening in her seat and glancing toward the field. Linda was on the far side, her hand on the shoulder of a young child, talking to another adult. “I’m a friend of Linda’s.”

  “Oh, goody. I was afraid for a moment you might be taken.” The blonde extended her hand, leaning even further into the passenger seat. Her breast brushed Jett’s shoulder. “I’m Mandy. I’m available.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Jett shook her hand and couldn’t help but smile. Mandy’s eyes danced with unabashed invitation. The total lack of subt
erfuge was oddly appealing.

  “So you work at the hospital?” When Jett nodded, Mandy snaked her fingers up Jett’s bare arm and underneath the sleeve of her tight black T-shirt. “I like this new look. So much better than those ugly green scrub shirts.”

  “I don’t wear scrubs. I’m a pilot,” Jett replied, shivering involuntarily as Mandy played her nails over her biceps.

  “Ooh. Really?” Mandy’s mouth curved into a smile, as if she had just tasted something particularly delicious. “That’s very interesting. What else can you drive?”

  “Almost anything.” Jett hadn’t sought anyone out for pleasure in a very long time, and her body was telling her loud and clear the absence had been noted. Her unwanted dreams of Gail were becoming more and more frequent, and whether she welcomed it or not, her need spiraled higher every day. She was going to have to do something soon, and this woman, a very attractive ruby-lipped, full-bodied, ripe and luscious woman, was offering.

  As if reading her mind, Mandy slowly trailed the tip of her tongue over the surface of her lower lip. “I’m volunteering to navigate.”

  Linda pulled open the driver’s door and pushed the bucket seat forward so a young girl could climb into the backseat. “Hi, Mandy. Out hunting?”

  Mandy slowly danced her fingertips up the side of Jett’s neck and ran them sensuously through Jett’s hair. “Not anymore.”

  “Jett, this is Kim,” Linda said as she helped the child with her seat belt. “Jett’s a friend of Mommy’s from work, honey.”

  “Hi,” Jett said, turning in her seat to greet the child.

  The little girl responded with a shy smile as Linda started the car. Mandy still clung to Jett’s arm, and Jett eased away as much as she could in the cramped quarters. “Nice meeting you, Mandy.”

  “Don’t say good-bye.” Mandy stepped an inch or two away from the car. “Say you’ll call me.” She rattled off a telephone number. “I’m sure anyone who can fly an airplane—”

  “Helicopter,” Jett interjected.

  “Even better. A helicopter.” Mandy drew out the word with a breathy sigh. “I’m sure you can remember seven little numbers.”

  Linda eased the car forward. “Bye, Mandy.”

  “I am invited Saturday, aren’t I?” Mandy called.

  “Of course,” Linda called back, pulling out into the street and accelerating. She glanced at Jett. “So that’s Mandy. She owns one of the local gyms and volunteers at the rec center in the summer.”

  “Uh-huh.” Jett suspected there was quite a lot more to Mandy than Linda was saying, although she didn’t get the sense that Linda actively disliked her. Their interaction had a teasing, mock-challenging quality to it.

  Linda glanced at the backseat, then lowered her voice. “So are you going to call her?”

  Jett shrugged. She really didn’t know, because calling meant reaching out. Making an effort. Admitting to herself that she wanted contact, closeness, even if it was false. And she still carried too much anger to allow herself that little bit of comfort. “I think she’s out of my league.”

  “Ah,” Linda crooned. “I do love a woman with a sense of humor.”

  “Then I’m glad you put up with me.”

  “You are coming Saturday, right? Mandy or not?”

  “I’ll be there,” Jett said, surprising herself. Saturday began her week down between flight rotations, and usually she spent her time holed up in her apartment working on her watches and clocks, trying to sleep, and occasionally venturing out for long, solitary walks in the middle of the night. Seven days without flying, without work to distract her, often felt like seven months.

  She didn’t have a lot of experience with parties, but she imagined they were a lot like bars, filled with superficial interactions that allowed her to circle the edges of real connection. Once in a while, when the urge was strong, she’d find someone willing to take what she could offer for a few hours.

  “Good. It’ll be fun,” Linda said.

  “Great. That sounds great.”

  *

  “Oh baby, yeah, yeah,” Darla panted. “God, you’re gonna make me come again. God, God that’s good.”

  Tristan knelt between Darla’s spread thighs, sweat dripping from her forehead onto Darla’s long, taut belly. She had four fingers inside her, pushing deep with each hard thrust, her thumb banging against Darla’s clit each time she plunged. She’d already made her come three times and Darla gave no indication of quitting anytime soon. Tristan was fine with that. Darla liked it hard, and she needed the workout. She needed to burn her mind clean. So even though her arm was shaking and her vision blurring with a combination of sweat and fatigue, she kept pumping.

  Darla undulated mindlessly, her legs thrashing, her neck arched, her mouth open as she implored and exhorted and exalted. At one point she reared up and clamped onto the arm Tristan was fucking her with so hard her nails broke Tristan’s skin. Tristan almost came from the unexpected surge of pain. Instead, she gripped Darla’s nipple with her free hand and twisted, and Darla gushed with another orgasm. Eventually, Darla sagged back, moaning quietly. Tristan leaned over her, supporting herself on one arm, and kept going. Darla’s internal muscles clutched weakly at her fingers, and Darla finally pushed Tristan away.

  “I’m done, baby,” Darla said drowsily. “That was fantastic.”

  Tristan rolled over onto her back. Completely whipped, she closed her eyes.

  “I’ll take care of you in a minute.” Darla sounded practically drunk with satisfaction.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Tristan couldn’t feel anything below her aching shoulders. “I’m great.”

  *

  An hour later, Tristan drove Darla back to the medical school.

  “You’re going to get me fired, you know that, baby,” Darla accused, sounding not the least bit concerned.

  “You’re too good at what you do for them to fire you. Besides, don’t you get sick time?”

  Darla inched close and bit Tristan’s neck while squeezing her crotch. “But I’m not sick. I might have a thing for you, but it’s a healthy addiction.”

  Tristan groaned and pushed back in her seat. She was still pumped and swollen from their frantic sex, even after a shower. She hadn’t come other than a fast explosion in the car on the way to her apartment, and that had been more a nervous discharge than a full-bodied orgasm. “Don’t get me started again. That’s cruel and unusual punishment.”

  “I don’t want you to think I’m selfish,” Darla whispered, rimming Tristan’s ear with her tongue.

  “I don’t think that.” Tristan grasped Darla’s wrist and eased her hand away. “I think I’ve mentioned I love fucking you.”

  “Well, good, then. When can we do it again?”

  Tristan hesitated. Darla was exactly the kind of woman she liked to date. Darla knew what she wanted, she asked for it, and when she got it, it was enough. Ordinarily, Tristan would be ready for a repeat with her as soon as possible. Sex with Darla that morning had been just like it had been half a dozen times before. Fast and furious—a flash fire decimating everything in its path. Unlike all the other times, though, she was vaguely unsatisfied. Before she could think too much about why, she said, “How does Saturday sound? There’s a bit of a neighborhood gathering and then later, we could sneak away for our own special dessert.”

  “Why sneak anywhere?” Darla nipped Tristan’s earlobe. “I bet I can find a quiet corner somewhere and you can do me right there.”

  “I work with these people. Think of my reputation.”

  “I am.” Darla patted Tristan’s crotch and eased back over into the passenger seat as Tristan pulled up in front of the medical school. “I guarantee after that kind of demonstration, every girl there will want you.”

  “That’s the last thing I need.” Tristan laughed. She doubted someone like Jett would be impressed, and just as quickly wondered why she had immediately thought of her. She leaned over and kissed Darla. “I’ll pick you up around seven.”<
br />
  “I’ll see you then.” Darla stepped out of the car, then leaned down and blew Tristan a kiss. “Thanks, baby. You’re the best.”

  Tristan waited until Darla disappeared into the building, then drove toward home. She was tired. Tired and disquieted. Nothing had changed, but nothing felt quite right.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jett heard the music and the hum of voices before she even reached the gate in the white picket fence that fronted Linda and her partner Robin’s house in a neighborhood of Victorian twins. Linda’s home was a brilliant robin’s egg blue with darker blue and pale yellow on the detailing along the eaves, windows, and porch. The party was apparently in full swing, which Jett had expected since she was intentionally an hour late. This way she could slip in unnoticed, and leave just as invisibly, if she wanted.

  She’d debated for the last day and a half as to whether she was actually going to come to the softball party at all. She’d heard about the huge city women’s league—Linda declared it fertile ground for girl-watching and general socializing—but she’d never gone to any games. When she sought female company, she preferred the clubs. The rules were much clearer there, and almost everyone had a similar agenda. Even though Linda had invited a lot of the hospital staff, so Jett was certain she would know people, she doubted she’d fit in very well. She just hadn’t developed an easy way of talking to people whose lives were so very different from hers. After spending all her adult life in the military with others whose experiences were almost exactly the same as hers, and having endured eighteen of the last twenty-four months in a combat zone, she didn’t know what to talk about with people whose lives revolved around things as simple and uncomplicated as mutual friends, children, and harmless hospital intrigue.

  She stared at the warm, friendly-looking house, her hand on the gate latch, and asked herself why she had come. An answer formed in the back of her mind, one that left her even less willing to step through the gate. Tristan would be there. Tristan would be there and she wanted to see her. They’d had a few easy conversations, a rarity for Jett, and Tristan had somehow gotten her to talk about herself. That event was so unusual, Jett still sensed the inner click of connection whenever she replayed the encounter, which was often. But judging from what she’d seen outside the hospital the other day, Jett was certain Tristan would be with a woman. She’d probably already forgotten their conversation.