Leslie had to laugh. “Stop that. It’s hard enough for me to cope with one in public without having to worry about you jumping the table to ravage me.”
Sarah took her warm, hard thigh away. “You go right on worrying about it.” Her laugh was evil.
Leslie showered for the second time but felt definitely less frumpy when she went back downstairs. It was impossible to feel unattractive after Sarah’s thorough demonstration of how desirable she found Leslie.
Melissa’s voice reminded Leslie of her continued presence, but it didn’t have the same sting as before. Between projects and cash flow, Melissa was waiting for both housing and a guest lecturer spot at the university to open at the end of the month. Nine days, Leslie thought. I can make it nine days. “—did live in a commune, you know,” Sarah was saying.
“I know, I’m just surprised. You—I mean, I know how you can get.” Melissa’s tone was both knowing and smug.
“She keeps me on my toes,” Sarah said lightly.
“Sure she does.” Melissa’s smirking tone made Leslie want to smack her.
Sarah’s laugh surprised Leslie, though. It was genuinely amused. “Oh Mel, you only wish you knew.” Sarah’s laughter suddenly died. “Mel—don’t.”
“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. You look so alive this morning.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Sure?”
“Yes, of course.” Sarah was snappish now.
“I seem to have upset you.” Did Melissa sound hopeful?
“You’ve made it awkward. If you can’t keep your hands to yourself then you’ll need to find someplace else to stay.” Sarah did sound upset.
“Have I actually gotten under your skin? I haven’t forgotten the way we were together, you know.”
Sarah’s voice was low and firm. “I am not on your menu.”
“Then why are you so bugged by a little flirtation?”
Sarah was angry. Leslie could tell because she itemized her points. “A, it was more than that. B, I am very married, and you know it. C, as the queen of politically correct lesbian thinking, you should know you’re being ageist when you assume that an older woman is de facto sexually dysfunctional. That’s what pisses me off the most, if you must know.” Sarah said something more, but it was lost in the whir of the garbage disposal.
“Okay, I’m sorry. Pax.” Melissa did sound chagrined. Leslie crept halfway up the stairs, counted slowly to ten as she took several calming breaths, then clattered back down to the kitchen.
Sarah was jingling her keys.“There you are. Ready?” Leslie didn’t give Melissa a glance. “For anything,” she answered.
Sarah handed her a fresh mug of coffee for the car. “Promises, promises,” she said teasingly.
Leslie didn’t know what to think or feel. Sarah had obviously rebuffed Melissa’s advance, but she’d been unnerved by it. Loyalty and fidelity—they were qualities Leslie loved about Sarah. If those impulses were what kept Sarah free of Melissa’s all-too-eager clutches, then Leslie was twice as glad of them. Sarah always admitted she and Melissa had been great together—at least in bed. It didn’t matter if, for just a moment, Sarah had been reminded of that. She’d still said no, and emphatically.
“I’m sorry,” Sarah said abruptly. She changed lanes at a snail’s pace, easing between an 18-wheeler and a laboring Volvo.
“For what?”
“I don’t know what it is about her—maybe it’s the audacity. I thought we didn’t exactly part on good terms, and she calls me out of the blue, all pals.”
Leslie thought it best to make a noncommittal noise. They’d discussed this before, several times.
“It just caught me so off-guard. I said yes before I even realized what she wanted.”
That reflexive impulse to give Melissa what she wanted was what had Leslie just the tiniest amount worried. “It’s just another week or so.”
“I know. I completely forgot she was there this morning, even.” Sarah patted Leslie’s knee as she merged off the freeway into the Silicon Valley office park where MagicWorks was threatening to split its warehouse offices at the seams.
Sarah had opened her door and turned back for her coffee mug when Leslie seized her by the collar of her shirt. “Just to tide me over,” she said with a grin, and then she kissed Sarah all the way to her wisdom teeth.
Sarah’s eyes were dancing with humor and she looked as if she might blush. “You have my permission to do that again, any time you want to.”
“You guys have to stop necking in the parking lot.” Richard toddled in the door to the conference room, Fritos in one hand and a Surge soda in the other, prepared as usual for their weekly pipeline meeting.
Leslie smirked. For a day that had begun with being treated like furniture by Melissa, she felt…perky. “You only wish.”
Sarah, who still regarded cuddly, anarchist Richard as an authority figure, said, “Okay, Richard.” She sipped her fresh cup of coffee. “We’ll park on the street next time.” She gave Leslie a laughing look, her color high.
Gene, the programming manager, drained the last of his Jolt. “I’m just an ordinary straight guy and I don’t care if you make out—”
“Christ,” Leslie snapped. “It’s not like it’s an everyday thing.”
“Can we change the subject?” Sarah really was blushing now.
Richard and Gene were enjoying themselves far too much. Leslie echoed Sarah’s request. “We’re supposed to be reviewing timetables, remember?”
Gene launched into the new timetable for their latest software innovation. Having established themselves as the premiere software design group for video applications, the core group of programmers was taking a break by working on a project for the Children’s Television Workshop, completely customizing a software program to aid in their production of parts of Sesame Street.Motion, their video/animation merging software, had made all of them a ton of stock market Monopoly money. Doing something for nothing was refreshing.
Leslie caught Sarah looking at her, still with the faintest hint of the blush that had started after Leslie grabbed her in the car. What was that about? Sarah was not—repeat, was not—shy about sex. But she was suddenly acting that way.
Life must be damned good, she pondered, if all you have to worry about is why your sex life has gone from great to fantastic.
“Absolutely not.” Leslie waved her hand at the printout she’d removed from the wall of the programmers’ cave. “You might think it’s funny, and I might have a giggle or two, but it could easily be taken the wrong way. We are not a warm and fuzzy little startup anymore.”
“Ah, Les.” Greg, who was known for his two-word sentences, looked exactly like her son when she’d made him scrape the “Shit Happens” bumper sticker off her car.
“Blonde jokes are always about women, and that makes this list demeaning to women, okay? Look, I think number eight is hilarious, but I’m dead certain that there are women with blond hair who won’t. It’s just a matter of sensitivity and being a warm and fuzzy bigger startup company.”
“Okay,” Greg said sullenly. “I don’t think you’re a pig or anything like that,” Leslie added. “I don’t want anyone else to get that idea, though.”
Greg slouched back to the cave and Leslie tossed the “Top Fifteen Reasons Why Blondes Prefer Rich Men” into the recycling. She had just returned to her backlog of e-mail when Sarah rapped on the doorjamb.
“It’s lunchtime—you have time to grab a bite or should I bring you something back?”
“I’ll grab a bite, all right.” Leslie waggled her eyebrows for emphasis.
Sarah burst out laughing, and that adorable, shy little blush came back. Leslie liked it, though she had no idea yet what was causing it. They flirted all the time. Now that Matt was nearing high school graduation, they even flirted in front of him. Usually they did it just to make him beg them to stop because it was “be-scusting, Mom!” Payback as a parent was fun.
Still looking discomfi
ted, Sarah said, “Okay—I was thinking the salad bar.”
“I’ll drive,” Leslie offered as they approached the car. She pulled out of the parking lot and then immediately to the side of the road. She lunged across the car to assault Sarah’s mouth with a breathless kiss. “You promised Richard we’d neck on the street, remember?” She went back for more.
Sarah gave a startled squeak and then responded by sliding her hands up to Leslie’s breasts. They stayed like that, exploring each other’s mouths, until Leslie had to give it up.
“The gear shift,” she explained. Tomorrow she was going to regret the bruise, but today she felt no pain.
Sarah’s face was very red. She fanned herself with a map from the glovebox.
“Are you having a hot flash?” Leslie just didn’t know what was making Sarah so embarrassed.
“Not the kind you mean,” Sarah said with a laugh.
Driving toward their favorite salad bar, Leslie turned the situation over in her mind. Sex between them was great. Whenever she wanted anything, Sarah was right there with her. The oral sex was incredible and the hot flashes had only made that better and better. She’d never had such good oral sex in her life, and that included her Free Love days when several people had considered themselves experts.
They waited at a particularly long stoplight and Leslie continued to think. This morning, for example. Sarah had gotten right down to business. If there had been time she would have certainly returned the pleasure. Maybe Sarah was still turned on from that. No—there was something else.
A kiss goodnight that changed to something more. That was how sex usually began when a hot flash wasn’t involved. Sarah would tease Leslie’s body, her fingers light but sure. Inside they were like fire, knowing exactly where to stroke. Sarah’s mouth was equally persistent and Leslie usually had to rest for a few minutes before she could repay Sarah for the attention.
You idiot, she suddenly thought. That’s it.
Instead of a left turn, she made a U, then swerved into a motel parking lot with a vacancy sign.
“What’s up?” Sarah looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.
“Nooners.”
“Les, there’s no need—”
“Oh yes, there is.”
She left Sarah in the car while she got them a room. It was hardly the Ritz, but all she required was clean sheets.
Sarah was still looking at her like she’d grown a new head. “Are you going to have another hot flash?”
“Not the kind you mean.”
She held the motel room door for Sarah, then stood behind it, looking at the woman she loved. A pale peach mouth and blue eyes just turning to violet. Sarah was looking at her with unmistakable desire as she pressed Leslie into the door. Her hard, warm thigh was between Leslie’s legs.
For a moment, when Sarah’s mouth nuzzled at the hollow below Leslie’s ear, Leslie forgot her inspiration in the car. She rocked herself on Sarah’s thigh because it felt damned good. It was hard to push her away.
Sarah was startled for a moment, then she pulled Leslie toward the bed. “Let’s get comfortable.”
She pulled Leslie down on top of her for a long, languid kiss while she pulled up Leslie’s shirt. Leslie almost yielded to the delight of Sarah’s warm fingertips, but she remembered her plan just in time. She trapped Sarah’s hands with her arms. “We’re going to do things a little different today.”
There was uncertainty on Sarah’s face, but it faded as Leslie slowly unbuttoned Sarah’s blouse. The zipper to Sarah’s slacks opened next and Leslie rolled over, pulling Sarah astride her. She slid the blouse off and pulled down Sarah’s bra straps so she could massage Sarah’s shoulders.
Sarah’s face was tinted with shy pinks as Leslie pulled her bra down farther. Stretching upward to kiss the bare breasts, Leslie marveled at Sarah’s faint trembling. Sarah, always so strong, always taking care of Leslie first.
“Take the rest of your clothes off,” Leslie said, knowing her voice was barely audible. “I want you naked against me.”
Sarah shuddered under Leslie’s touch. She was breathing hard as she stood up long enough to strip. Leslie kicked off her own shoes and socks and stretched out on the bed, arms open.
Sarah was flushed and shivering as she came back to Leslie, knee to knee, breast to breast. Leslie insinuated her jean-clad thigh between Sarah’s naked legs while her tongue tasted the faint perfume on Sarah’s arms and throat. Sarah was moaning against her.
Her hands in Sarah’s hair, kissing Sarah’s eyes, her temples, Leslie murmured, “You first this time.”
Sarah gasped, “Please,” as Leslie kissed her again.
She rolled Sarah tummy up, her knees between Sarah’s. Skin against her tongue, her lips, then an eager welcoming oh of pleasure. Leslie reveled and drank, being selfish at first because there was so much to enjoy and it was what made loving a woman such ecstasy.
Gradually the sound of Sarah’s rapture pierced her own desires and she concentrated on making the next few minutes all that Sarah could want. Her fingers pushed inward, causing new tremors in Sarah’s thighs. She did exactly what Sarah was begging her to do and for as long as Sarah wanted. Her hand, her shirt, her face—they were all drenched by Sarah’s climax.
Idiot, she told herself fondly. It took you way too long to figure out that sometimes she likes to go first.
Her shirt and pants were not fit for a return to the office. Sarah averted her eyes from the stains, and her face was a delight of pinks and peaches. They grabbed some quick burgers as they drove home, having been gone from the office far too long already.
Leslie dashed inside and encountered Melissa pouring herself a glass of soda. “I need fresh clothes,” Leslie explained as she passed through the kitchen.
“Another hot flash?” She heard the condescension in Melissa’s voice and did not care one whit. She stopped just long enough to say, “Not the kind you mean,” before she ran upstairs.
Making Up for Lost Time
Published: Characters: Setting: 1998
Jamie Onassis, master chef
Valkyrie Valentine, home repair expert Sheila Thintowski, media executive Kathy Smitt, Jamie’s childhood friend San Francisco and Mendocino, California
The Eighth is for Eternity
. vv.
Main Courses
Mendo Chili
This is a moderately spicy meat-lover’s chili. Any kind of bread is a great accompaniment. I like carrot sticks alongside to kill the fire and provide a veneer of virture to this rich dish.
4 slices bacon, cut up or crumpled after cooking An onion and a clove of garlic, coarsely chopped 1 tablespoon of more to taste of hot red chile pepper 1 – ½ teaspoon each ground cumin, oregano (preferably Mexican) ¼ pound pork sausage
½ pound ground beef
1 pound beef round cut into mouth-sized chunks Small can of diced green chiles
2 6-ounce cans tomato paste
3 cups water, maybe more
16-ounce can pinto beans, drained
With a little care, you can make this entire dish in a single non-stick Dutch oven or other non-stick 5-quart pot. Begin by frying the bacon in the Dutch oven until it’s very crisp. Drain on paper towels. Discard bacon grease, but don’t wipe the pan. In the same pan, sauté the onion and garlic until translucent. Toss the cumin and oregano on top at the very end and stir in. Dump the resulting mix on top of the bacon to cool. Now you can wipe out the pan and proceed.
Fry the sausage and ground beef until browned, then add the beef round until browned. Drain off as much of the fat as possible. Crumble the bacon if it’s not already in pieces, then add back in the bacon-onion mixture, chiles, tomato paste and water. Stir thoroughly. Simmer uncovered for 2 hours, stirring every so often.
Taste and season to your liking. Stir in the beans and simmer for another ½ hour. Serves 4 very hungry people.
Hacksaw Pastry
(3 years) “Good God almighty!” Jamie Onassis twisted her fists hard i
nto her ribs to keep from heaving her largest stainless steel bowl out the nearest window. A half-hour ago it had been filled to the brim with baby-tushy-soft dough, fragrant with basil and yeast and dusted with Parmesan and Romano.
Now it was just glop. Unfit for pigs. All the delicate air that made the mixture pliant was gone. The flour gluten that gave the dough resilience had overcome the yeast’s bubble factory. Not enough sugar or salt? Not enough heat? Too much olive oil?
It was the third time this week. The second time today. It was not even noon. Aunt Emily was no doubt looking down from heaven and wondering where Jamie’s deft touch with bread had gone.
“What happened?” Dar peered through the dining room pass-through into the kitchen. “You okay?”
“Yes,” Jamie said shortly. Thank goodness Dar recognized the tone and said no more. She apparently warned off the other server, who didn’t know Jamie’s moods as well, because both of them left her alone as she prepared for lunchtime’s quick and easy menu and the evening’s more elaborate fare. Jamie seriously wanted to pummel something.
The Waterview’s own special beef stew was the main event for dinner, and the meat still needed to be tenderized. She attacked the mound of top grade round steak with her heavy steel mallet until her arm ached.
She felt better.
It was an unwelcome task to turn out the spoiled dough and start over, but Jamie was determined to have fresh Italian rolls to accompany the cacciatore special for lunch. It was pouring rain outside and nothing shook off a chill like hot bread.
Her kitchen helper, Marco, stomped his way in the back door. Marco had wandered into Mendocino looking for chef’s training at one of the world-famous restaurants. Unlike Café Beaujolais, the Waterview was not famous the world over, but he liked Jamie’s approach to food: simple, unembellished, hearty, but gourmet delicious. He’d also stayed because he’d taken pointed note of the gregariously attractive—and perpetually hungry—Jeff O’Rhuan in Jamie’s kitchen most mornings.
Frosting on the Cake Page 13
