Too Close to Touch

by Georgia Beers

  This time, she lingered as Jori finished dressing, taking in the art of the woman with whom she’d been having sex. The thing that surprised Gretchen the most about the pictures was that they weren’t Jori’s professional prints. These seemed to be more candid, photos of her friends and family, and for some reason, Gretchen’s heart warmed just a little. She spotted Mick in several, and there was a crowd shot of an outdoor gathering from at least twenty years ago, judging from the clothing worn by the subjects.

  With closer scrutiny, Gretchen picked out Kylie’s mother among the group and realized she was looking at the O’Brien family cookout from nearly two decades before. Smiling, she moved along the wall, and then her breath caught in her throat as she stopped in front of a black and white, eight-by-ten, lovingly framed photograph of Kylie.

  It was definitely candid, a head shot in semi-profile; Kylie seemed unaware she was being photographed at all. She stood outdoors somewhere, her face tilted up toward the sky, exposing her long throat, making her seem impossibly vulnerable. The creamy skin begged for fingertips, and an unseen wind blew her dark blond hair off her face, revealing one adorable ear decorated with a diamond stud that glinted in the sunlight.

  Even in a photo without color, it was completely apparent that Kylie had the bluest eyes you could imagine. Her mouth quirked slightly in a smile that seemed to house a secret, like she knew something the rest of the world didn’t and she might share, if coaxed in just the right manner…there was something very intimate about the shot and it tugged at Gretchen low in her belly. She found it hard to breathe and she was unable to move her feet. She stood imprisoned, and wet her lips as she stared in wonder.

  “Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Jori’s voice startled Gretchen, so close to her ear.

  “She is…er…it is. Very. When did you take it?”

  “Oh, five or six years ago, I think. A bunch of us went hiking up near Cayuga Lake. It was a beautiful fall day and I sort of stumbled upon Kylie all alone, looking off into the distance. I think she was looking at a hawk or an eagle or something. She was so…breathtaking, I couldn’t not take the shot, you know? I’m not even sure she knows I did to this day.”

  “Were you…?” Gretchen hesitated, not sure how to pose the question niggling at her. “Did you two…you know…ever have a thing?”

  Jori chuckled and a bit of sadness was apparent in its rhythm.

  “Me and Kylie? Nah.” She looked down at her feet for several long seconds. “Not that I wouldn’t have wanted to, though, especially back then. But I’m a big girl now, big enough to know that she’s way out of my league.”

  Gretchen cocked her head, surprised at the remark. Her face must have said so, because Jori grinned widely.

  “Oh, come on, Gretchen. You know it’s true. She’s the kind of woman who deserves way better than somebody like me or you, right?” Jori walked across the room to the little table and picked up her keys, unaware of the pained expression Gretchen knew had parked itself on her face. “Are you ready to go?” she asked without looking back. “I hear dinner calling my name.”

  Gretchen blinked several times and gulped down the bitterness rising in her throat. She purposely did not look back up at the photograph.

  “Sure. I’m ready.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The Black Widow was jumping, much to the surprise of many of its patrons. Women’s bars didn’t have much of a reputation in Rochester other than being the businesses most likely to close down within the first six months. Somehow, the Widow had managed to stay open and keep a crowd for the last five years, withstanding the changes in the weather as well as the changing landscape of the city. It was located far enough downtown to be considered “in the city,” but not far enough to be considered “in the bad part of town.” The owners had gotten it just right.

  The crowd was a mix of ages. It was going on eleven o’clock, so the younger college-age lesbians were beginning to show up. Their appearance was radically different from the older crowd that had appeared earlier—tattoos, piercings, and shaved heads versus jeans, Tshirts, and neat, practical haircuts. The older crowd was playing pool.

  The younger crowd was doing shots.

  Kylie garnered looks from both crowds. She didn’t really seem to notice, though Mick always did. Mick was also aware of the envious glances she received from the people who didn’t know them personally and assumed Kylie belonged to her. Those were her favorites.

  “What do you want to drink?” Mick had to put her mouth very close to Kylie’s ear in order to be heard over the thrumming bass of the dance music. Not that she minded; being so close allowed her to get a satisfying lungful of Kylie’s evocative perfume.

  “Vodka tonic,” Kylie responded, glancing around as Mick pushed her way to the bar and put in her order with Christy, the bartender.

  She stifled a yawn and chuckled inwardly at herself for being such an old fart. I go to bed by ten every night. Why should a Saturday be any different? The DJ seemed to be playing a nice mix of eighties music, though, so she was pretty secure in the fact that she’d wake up once she got dancing. It was good to be out.

  “Here you go, hot stuff.” Mick handed her the drink. “What do you think? Music sounds good. It’s not that rap shit that all sounds the same.”

  Kylie nodded, sipping from her glass and sending an appreciative smile back at Christy behind the bar. “Damn, that girl knows how to mix a drink.”

  “Only for those of us who are special.” Mick grinned.

  “I don’t know how you do this so often,” Kylie commented. “I’m ready to fall asleep.”

  “You’re such a lesbian.” Just then, the DJ decided to play “Vogue” by Madonna, and Mick took Kylie’s drink and set it on a nearby table next to her beer. “Come on,” she ordered. “This’ll wake you up.” Mick was right. Within an hour, Kylie was dancing her heart out, pleasantly buzzed and on her way to drunk, though thinking about changing to Coke soon. Mick was a fantastic dancer but Kylie was a bit more self-conscious, so she just held onto Mick and let her lead.

  Her friend’s strong, solid form was comforting and Kylie gripped her shoulders without hesitation.

  They did their own version of dirty dancing, Mick’s thigh tucked between Kylie’s legs, her hand across the small of Kylie’s back where bare skin peeked out under her cropped shirt. Because of the difference in their heights, Mick enveloped Kylie and the picture they made was quite a sexy one. Spectators—both subtle and overt—were abundant.

  One song blended into the next until Kylie needed to drink and rest. Laughing, she wiped the sweat from her upper lip and led Mick off the dance floor. She picked up her drink from the table where Mick had placed it and took a long swallow. When her eyes drifted to the far end of the bar, her smile faltered and she nearly choked as the mouthful of vodka and tonic water went down the wrong pipe.

  Jori was cheerfully chatting with Christy, her arm draped over the shoulders of none other than Gretchen Kaiser. Despite the fact that she was frustrated by their presence, Kylie couldn’t help but let her eyes roam over Gretchen’s form, from the snugly fitting jeans to the white, short-sleeved button-up top to the mass of hair she itched to dig her fingers into. Gretchen looked absolutely edible.

  Damn her.

  Slugging back the remainder of her drink, Kylie grabbed Mick’s arm and pulled her toward the dance floor.

  “Hey, Jori’s here,” Mick commented even as she was being led in the opposite direction.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Mick noticed Jori’s date, then looked back at Kylie, apparently taking in the fact that Kylie wasn’t looking toward the bar at all. She followed obediently and did her best to keep Kylie dancing with her back to the rest of the crowd. Kylie knew she was showing stress rather than fun and that she was dancing like she was doing a job rather than enjoying herself. But she had no ability to do anything else. All sense of enjoyment had disappeared.

  They danced for nearly a half hour with no conversation—an
d very little smiling on Kylie’s part—until a familiar voice interrupted their individual thoughts.

  “Excuse me, ladies, but can I cut in?” Jori bumped her hip into Kylie’s, taking her place as Mick’s dance partner.

  “Sure,” Kylie said, before Mick could protest. “I need another drink anyway.”

  She left the two of them boogying to “Brand New Lover” and headed for the bar. She pushed through the crowd and ordered another vodka tonic from Christy. When she reached for her money, Christy waved her off.

  “Nope. You’re paid for.” She used her chin to point across the bar.

  Gretchen gave a small wave.

  Crap. Kylie held up the glass in silent thanks, then turned her back to the bar, and Gretchen, and downed half the glass’s contents in three swallows, suppressing a shudder as she did so. She was working diligently on the rest of it when that rich, molten voice sounded dangerously close to her ear.

  “Work up a thirst on the dance floor, did you?” Chills ran pleasantly up Kylie’s spine and she closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds to revel in the feeling. When finally she turned and met Gretchen’s deep brown gaze, her eyes seemed softer than usual. Kylie couldn’t keep the smile from her face.

  “Hi there,” she said.

  “Hi yourself,” Gretchen replied, a hint of relief coloring her tone, detectable even over the pounding dance music.

  Gretchen had pressed herself close to Kylie in order to be heard and Kylie could feel the heat emanating from both their bodies, mingling thickly in the air. “Thanks for the drink,” she said, holding up her glass.

  She grimaced with embarrassment when she realized it was empty.

  Gretchen chuckled and motioned to Christy as they stood in slightly awkward silence while they waited for another drink. The pounding bass beat of the music stopped abruptly and a slow number began. To Kylie’s alarmed delight, Gretchen held out her hand.

  “Dance with me?”

  If she hadn’t been drinking, Kylie might have been able to summon up the strength to refuse. She might have politely declined. She might even have snorted a laugh in Gretchen’s face. As it was, though, she was powerless…against Gretchen’s eyes, her voice, against the small, strong hand hovering, waiting to lead her to the dance floor. She didn’t hesitate at all. She put her hand in Gretchen’s, trying not to swoon at the warmth, the solidity of her grip, and allowed herself to be escorted toward a far corner of the small dance floor. The zone was dimly lit and occasionally slashed with red and blue light, ideal for keeping a low profile.

  Kylie paid no attention to the fact that Jori barely noticed them.

  She paid no attention to the look of concerned annoyance that Mick shot in their direction. Her eyes were lowered, watching nothing else but the sway of Gretchen’s slim hips, the rolling of her behind as she strolled ahead.

  They were very nearly the same height again, Kylie’s sandals and Gretchen’s ankle boots with the heel working in their favor. When Gretchen turned to face her, Kylie swallowed. She felt suddenly submerged in Gretchen’s presence, as if Gretchen’s physical hold on her was the only thing keeping her from drowning. Gretchen lifted their joined hands and nestled them to her chest; Kylie could feel the softness of the white shirt and the steady beating of Gretchen’s heart beneath it.

  The exposed skin of her back tingled unbearably as Gretchen slid her other hand into position, her thumb rubbing small, lazy circles.

  When Gretchen tightened her arm and gently pulled their bodies closer together, Kylie was barely able to stifle the gasp that forced itself from her parted lips. Her heart was pounding, and Gretchen’s mouth was but three inches from hers. She rested her own hand on Gretchen’s shoulder, feeling possessive and possessed in equal measure. Like she belonged there.

  I never want to leave this spot. Ever.

  They swayed together easily, comfortably, barely even registering what song was playing. Kylie had thought she had so much to say to Gretchen, but she couldn’t seem to find her voice and then she didn’t want to. She was afraid of breaking the spell. She wanted to stay like this forever, swaying in Gretchen’s arms, held tightly and feeling protected.

  For that moment, there was no job, no rules or ethics. There was only the two of them and the heat surrounding them.

  Gretchen’s eyes hadn’t left Kylie’s lips since they began moving to the music and it took every ounce of strength Kylie had to prevent herself from leaning forward a hair, from pushing her own mouth into Gretchen’s, but she promised herself she’d let Gretchen make the move.

  She was in no hurry to end up in the same state of embarrassment she’d experienced on Thursday night at the office. From the look on Gretchen’s face…the hooded eyes, the parted lips, the tongue darting out to moisten them…Kylie suspected she wouldn’t have to wait long.

  “Hey, break it up,” Jori said playfully, startling them both so much that they actually jumped. “I’ve got somebody I want you to meet.” It was only as Jori was dragging Gretchen away by the arm that Kylie noticed the music had changed; the slow song was gone and the pumping bass beat was back. She followed Gretchen’s retreating form, noticed the apologetic grimace that crossed her face, and blew out a frustrated breath. Gretchen and Jori disappeared into a large group of people at the end of the bar. Kylie headed to the other end where her drink and Mick were waiting. Her vision blurred slightly and she realized she was drunker than she originally thought. And God was she turned on. Damn you, Gretchen.

  “That was interesting,” Mick commented, a gleam of irritation shining in her eye.

  “What was?” Kylie slugged back half her drink, glad Mick was driving.

  “That dance.” Mick narrowed her eyes as Kylie finished the rest of her drink. “Easy there, Ky. You’re going to have a hell of a headache in the morning.”

  “Whatever.” Kylie watched across the bar as Gretchen smiled politely at the handful of people surrounding her and Jori. Jori’s arm was draped over her shoulders again and it made Kylie grind her teeth.

  She laid down a five for the drink Christy brought her, not paying any attention to Mick’s silent direction to Christy that she’d had enough.

  She once again nearly choked on the two large swallows she took as she watched across the bar. Then she did choke on the third and everything in her stomach threatened to heave up onto the surface in front of her as Jori caught hold of Gretchen and kissed her on the mouth.

  Kylie’s world was spinning. Setting down her drink, she turned to Mick and gripped her arm tightly. “Take me home.”

  “What? Now?”

  “Take. Me. Home.”

  Mick’s green eyes suddenly filled with concern as she saw the tears welling up in Kylie’s.

  “Please, Mick?” She could hardly focus. All she could think about was getting out before she burst into humiliating sobs.

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  After Kylie’s third attempt at getting the key into the lock, Mick took the keys from her and slid the correct one home. She pushed the door open and stood aside, letting Kylie enter ahead of her. Shaking her head, she followed her into the living room. Kylie rarely drank enough to get this drunk; she was quite careful about it because she tended to be self-conscious about the Irish stereotype. She only drank in excess when she was upset.

  “What’s going on?” Mick asked gently.

  Kylie hadn’t turned any lights on. Only the glow from the streetlights outside shining through the open living room windows made it possible for them to see one another, both bathed in a soft orangey glow. She stepped close to Mick.

  “Hug me?”

  “You got it.” There was nothing Mick could deny her best friend, especially when she used that soft, pleading, feminine voice. She wrapped her arms around Kylie and pulled her close, resting her chin on the top of the blond head and trying not to feel anything beyond the closeness of their friendship.

  Kylie rubbed her cheek against Mick’s chest, feeling pro
tected by the strong, muscled arms holding her. It wasn’t quite the same feeling of protection she’d gotten from Gretchen, but… Shaking that thought angrily away, she looked up at Mick. “Kiss me.” Mick blinked at her, clearly taken aback. “What?”

  “I said kiss me. Now.” Kylie grabbed the back of Mick’s head and pulled her down.

  “Ky, what the—” Mick’s protests were silenced when Kylie’s lips met hers. She grabbed Kylie’s forearms, fully intending to withdraw, but Kylie’s lips were so soft, so sweet, so insistent. There was nothing she could do, no way to resist.

  Mick moved her hands to either side of Kylie’s face and kissed her back, tenderly at first, tentatively, exploringly. It wasn’t long before she couldn’t refuse the desire to taste Kylie’s mouth more fully and she expertly slid her tongue into the warmth that waited for her. Kylie moaned and pushed her body more firmly against Mick’s taller one.

  There was no sound but the soft smacking of their lips.

  Maybe it was the flashback of Kylie and Gretchen dancing earlier.

  Maybe it was Kylie’s sudden change in behavior. Maybe it was that the current situation was bordering on a wish coming true and Mick was a skeptic. Whatever the reason, Mick suddenly wrenched her mouth from Kylie’s, breathing raggedly, her heart pounding in her ears.

  “Wait. Ky, wait. What are you doing?”

  Kylie pulled at Mick’s head, her arms still wrapped around Mick’s neck. “Mick. Just kiss me. Please? Just…” Their mouths met again and this time, Kylie pushed her tongue into Mick’s mouth.

  Mick whimpered, feeling completely ambushed. The sweetness of Kylie’s mouth, the intensity of her desire, made it hard for her to put up any kind of a fight. She’d dreamed of this, of kissing Kylie, of being wanted by Kylie. She’d fantasized endlessly, had masturbated to just this scenario countless times. And now it was happening. And it was so wrong.

  She pulled away again, making sure to hold Kylie at arms’ length.