They were heading back towards the stage when a hand snaked out from the crowd and landed on Ryan’s shoulder. "Piernuda!" called a honey-toned, lightly-accented voice.
"Alisa!" Ryan cried, looking genuinely happy to see her former lover. They embraced, holding on for a moment longer than Jamie would have preferred, but she was beginning to get accustomed to Ryan’s near-constant hugging and kissing of practically every woman they ran into. "How’ve you been?"
"Good, I am good, cariño." Alisa released Ryan and turned her head to Jamie. "Introduce me to your love, Ryan."
Jamie had seen this self-confident woman on the mountain bike ride up on Mt. Tam. They hadn’t spoken that day, so her memory was vague, but seeing her again, Jamie had to admit that she would never forget her face. The strong, angular features would not be described as traditionally beautiful, but on Alisa, the strong features blended with her near-black eyes to create a face that was truly mesmerizing. As Alisa extended a hand, Jamie had to admit that she was happy she would never have to face her in a trial. There was something almost regal in the woman’s bearing—some indescribable elegance in her carriage that made Jamie feel small and awkward and immature. "I am Alisa Guerra," she supplied before Ryan could do the honors.
Jamie grasped her cool, strong hand and nearly curtsied. It took her a second, but she got out, "Jamie Evans," even managing to add a weak smile.
Ryan was at her side, slipping an arm around Jamie’s waist while she beamed at both women. "I’ve never seen you look so happy, Querida," Alisa said, looking at Ryan fondly. "You seem…at peace."
"Thanks for saying that," Ryan smiled. "I am at peace. I’m calmer and more relaxed than I’ve ever been in my life."
Jamie looked up at her with wide-eyed astonishment. "What were you like before?!" she gasped, causing both Ryan and Alisa to break out in exuberant laughter.
"Don’t ask!" both women supplied nearly simultaneously.
There was something about the way the Alisa looked at Ryan that made Jamie feel like she was intruding. She decided to give them a little time alone, so she excused herself to go wait in the long line for the restroom.
"Are you sure you want to go alone?" Ryan asked with concern.
"Positive. You two stay here and chat. I’ll come back for you."
"Okay, Hon," Ryan agreed, lowering her long frame to a comfortable spot on the ground. "I’ll stay right here."
Jamie struggled through the crowd to get in the slow-moving line. Nearly everyone she saw wore some type of sticker or slogan somewhere on their bodies. I wouldn’t say most of these things to Ryan, and I DO most of them with her! She was truly amazed at the number of women who paraded around on the streets of the city proclaiming, "Butch in the streets, femme in the sheets," "orgasm addict," "got lube?" "pro choice/pro pussy," or the thoughtful, "breakfast included." Nevertheless, her favorite had to be the T-shirt that begged, "Dip me in chocolate and throw me to the lesbians." Now that’s one thing I’d like to try, she smirked. But there’s only one chocolate-loving lesbian I’d like to be thrown to!
Standing in the line, Jamie mused about the crowd and the event. I never would have believed this, but I feel pretty comfortable in this crowd. I’m not sure what it is….but I feel like…myself. An idea struck her and she thought about it for a moment, trying it on for size. That’s it! she thought with excitement. These women aren’t judging me! As she looked around at the women surrounding her, she considered her thought. I don’t feel like I’m on display! They think I’m gay and that should make me fair game, but I don’t feel like they’re looking at me the way that six thousand young straight guys would!
Aside from the lack of sexual vibes I’m getting, I’ve gotta admit it’s weird to be with this many women and not feel like they’re assessing what I’m wearing or how my hair looks. This is really odd, but it feels very freeing!
With a start she recognized that this was one of the things she most loved about being with Ryan—right from the very start. They never—not once—spent any time analyzing anyone else. She blushed at the thought of how many times she and Cassie had sat on the Sproul steps and critiqued people as they passed through the gates of the campus. She had thought that was what everyone did, until she began to spend time with Ryan. But Ryan was so self-assured that it would never occur to her to spend her time comparing herself to others. In a way, that behavior was beneath the confident woman, and for that Jamie was truly grateful.
As soon as she was finished, she threaded her way through the crowd to find her wonderful woman. She was right where Jamie had left her, sprawled across the ground, head held up by one braced arm. Alisa’s pose roughly mirrored Ryan’s, and they were having an obviously intense discussion. The assistant district attorney was making a point of some import, pushing her finger into the softness of Ryan’s breast to punctuate her words. Jamie felt a flash of irritation, but she tried to swallow the feeling before she reached the pair. Ryan, for her part, looked like she was paying attention, but Jamie could tell that Alisa’s words were not really reaching her.
The blue eyes seemed to sense her approach, and they rotated in her direction, tracking her for the last 30 or so feet of her journey. Alisa sensed that her audience had deserted her, and she turned to catch a glimpse of Jamie’s arrival. Her smile seemed less than genuine, but Ryan’s made up for any luster that her friend’s lacked. "Hi, Babe," she murmured, getting to her feet to welcome Jamie back with a kiss.
"Ready to go, Hon?" Jamie asked, sensing that Ryan was feeling antsy.
"Yeah, I think so." Turning to Alisa, Ryan said, "It was great to see you again, Alisa. Maybe we’ll catch you up on Mt. Tam some Friday night."
Jamie could see the longing in the deep brown eyes as the lovely woman said, "Maybe." She turned to Jamie and extended her hand again, gripping the smaller hand tightly. "Take care of her, Jamie," she intoned, nodding in Ryan’s direction. "She’s precious to me."
Jamie met the intense gaze and felt all of her normal confidence bubble to the surface. "I will, Alisa. She’s precious to me, too." Both women nodded to each other, acknowledging that only one could claim this prize.
Alisa wrapped Ryan in a hug, pulling back to kiss her softly on the lips. "Hasta luego, cariño," she whispered, then turned and strode back to her friends.
"Wanna talk about it?" Jamie asked softly as they neared the street.
Ryan had been nearly silent during their walk, seemingly lost in her reflections. "No." She shook her head briskly, running a hand through her hair to order her bangs. "I’d rather not, if you don’t mind."
Jamie had a ton of questions for her partner, not the least of which was "Why is your former lover still calling you ‘hottie’, ‘sweetheart’ and ‘dear’?" But she knew that Ryan needed some private space, so she forced herself to say, "No problem, Honey," and grasped her hand, lifting it for a gentle kiss.
Ryan beamed a smile at her, silently thanking her for her understanding. When they reached the street, the taller woman said, "I don’t really feel like marching that far. Would you mind riding?"
Jamie was astounded to hear her lover plead fatigue. She stopped abruptly, pulling Ryan to a halt with her. "Are you all right, Babe? It’s not like you to beg off something because you’re tired."
"Mmm…I’m not really tired—I just don’t want to walk all the way to Castro. I think it would be more fun to ride."
Jamie was actually a little disappointed. She was just getting comfortable with all of this feminine energy and she wasn’t really ready to leave the protective cocoon of women. But Ryan’s behavior was unusual enough that she felt the need to heed her request. "Sure, Hon. Riding is good, too."
They got on the bike and headed off, slowing severely when they reached Valencia and 23rd. Lined up in a neat queue stretching for nearly two blocks were motorcycles of every make and model. Most were riderless, but many held a driver or even a passenger.
"Is there some big biker bar around here?" Jamie asked over the thrum
ming of the engine.
Ryan flipped up her face shield and turned to say, "No…no biker bars around here."
As they crossed the street and began to slowly make their way past the assembled bikes, Jamie was shocked to notice that every driver was a woman. She was just about to comment when she heard, "O’Flaherty! I saved you a space!"
Ryan’s laugh wafted back to Jamie, and the passenger got in a good pinch to the exposed skin that lay just under her fingers. The bike slid into the space reserved for them and as they got off, Jamie stood in slack-jawed silence at the scene that stretched as far as the eye could see.
There were hundreds of bikes, hundreds of women, and a few moments after they arrived, the women began to break up their small groups and climb astride the bikes. Ryan dashed over to the woman who had saved them a space, giving out yet another kiss on the lips for her thoughtfulness. Well, one good thing, Jamie mused. If we ever break up, at least I still get to kiss her!
Before Ryan made her way back, she was stopped at least six more times for kisses and hugs. When she finally stood before Jamie, the smirking blonde grabbed her and planted a scorcher on her oft-kissed lips. The kiss continued for long minutes, with Ryan finally leaning against the bike to support her weak legs. When Jamie released her she blinked slowly and mumbled, "Is this making you hot?"
"Yes," her impish partner drawled. "But that’s not why I kissed you. I’m just trying to keep those lips busy. If I’ve got ‘em under control, nobody else can get at ‘em."
"I like your style," Ryan decided, returning the favor as the bikes started to rev. Just as they got on, a bare-breasted woman ran down the street in their direction. She had painted her chest in the wide stripes of the rainbow flag, but just above her belly someone had created a perfect rendition of a street sign. It read "One Way" but the arrow pointed down into her jeans. Jamie was just about to comment when the woman cried, "Ryan!"
Just before she reached them, Jamie whispered the warning, "That street has been permanently closed, Baby!"
After everyone was ready, the lead bikes gunned their engines repeatedly, signaling that they would soon start. No one was wearing their helmet, but Jamie was still reticent to take hers off. "It’s against the law, Baby," she insisted, needlessly adding, "and stupid, for that matter".
"This ride’s illegal, too, Honey, and the march, for that matter," Ryan chuckled. She nodded her head in the direction of the police station they were idling in front of. At least a dozen officers stood in the parking lot, watching the assembled women. Some looked bored, some interested in the bikes; a few looked less than happy, but none of them looked like they had any intention of getting involved.
"You sure?" Jamie asked again.
"I’ll pay your ticket, Babe. It’s perfectly safe. I guarantee we won’t go over ten miles an hour the whole time."
Feeling like a miscreant, Jamie finally tugged off the bright yellow helmet and handed it to Ryan. In return, Ryan handed her some neon orange foam earplugs. "Trust me," she intoned, and as usual, Jamie did. As soon as they had their earplugs in place, the lead bikes roared away and every other bike in the group began to rev their engines. The sound was bone-shaking as every one of the beasts let out a throaty growl that reverberated against the two and three story apartment buildings and shops.
Every part of Jamie began to thrum, and after a second or two she was struck by another erotic daydream of just how much leather she could leave on her partner while still having access to every vital spot.
Ryan’s prediction was accurate, and they spent much more time idling than they did riding, but Jamie decided that she did not care one bit. She was so overwhelmingly glad to be sharing this party with her partner that she didn’t care if they had to push the bike the rest of the way.
Ryan and C.J., the friend that had saved them a spot, had a little competition as they rode along. The game seemed to be "see who has the loudest bike," and with what little hearing she had left, Jamie decided it was a draw. Both women had fun though, and Jamie had to admit that as long as Ryan had fun—she had fun.
When they finally reached the last big hill leading down into the Castro, Ryan turned and shouted, "Turn around, Babe." Jamie did so, and practically fell off the bike as she took in the scene behind her. From the bottom of the hill to the top, the women of the march filled the street. There were so many women that they also filled both sidewalks to capacity. As the bike rolled slowly down the street, more and more marchers crested the hill—looking to Jamie like a huge invasion of women warriors. But this invasion was clearly welcome, as the assembled throng gathered on the flats began to clap and cheer for the riders and marchers.
The Castro was filled to bursting on this Saturday night of Pride Weekend. The street had been closed for hours, every recalcitrant car towed away long ago. Now the bikes rolled down the normally congested street freely, police holding back the onlookers who struggled against the restraints.
Jamie had never been greeted so exuberantly—even the crowd at the closing ceremonies of the AIDS Ride dimmed in comparison to this. Music blared from the stage that had been set up, people yelled, bikes roared—it was a sensory overload for everyone involved.
They were led to a side street, where the police had thoughtfully provided a place to park the four hundred motorcycles. It was clear that if they got into this mess they would have to stay until the last of the revelers left, but as usual Ryan had a plan. She separated from the pack and started to wind her way through the streets and alleys of the Castro, finally finding a sliver of a spot about two blocks away.
When she killed the engine, Jamie’s ears could not adjust to the silence for several minutes. It sounded like they were still in the pack, although much more muffled. She extracted the earplugs that Ryan had provided and gave her partner a big kiss for her prudence. "I would be permanently deaf without these babies," she marveled. "As usual, my little Girl Scout comes through again."
"Your ears are very important to me, Jamie," Ryan said with a touch of seriousness. "I always want you to be able to hear me whispering how much I love you."
That merited her another kiss, a long, emotion-filled one, delivered right in the middle of 22nd St.
They didn’t stay in the Castro for long. There were so many people that it was a little overwhelming for both of them, and Ryan had never been fond of huge crowds. They stayed on the periphery as much as possible, enjoying the cavalcade of diversity.
They saw nearly every permutation of leather, denim and rubber imaginable. Jamie had never considered the leather/rubber cottage industry, but judging from this display, business was booming.
Ryan was perched on the back of a bus bench, Jamie between her thighs, when a good-looking woman walked by. She was sporting a T-shirt that read, "Vegan lesbians taste better."
Turning around to look at her partner, Jamie raised an eyebrow in question. As she expected, Ryan gave her a shrug and a small nod, adding, "I wouldn’t say ‘better,’ but definitely different."
"I thought safer sex prohibited that," Jamie smirked, turning around fully to make eye contact.
"It does, but I had a pretty wild first year, you recall. Ally didn’t knock any sense into me until I’d been around the block a few times."
"So…why is it different?" Jamie persisted. "Do you want me to be a vegan?"
"Nope." Ryan shook her head decisively. "I could tell you a lot more than you want to know, Babe, since this is all about chemistry and biology. But the details aren’t important. The bottom line is that your taste is absolute perfection. I love it more than words can say, and I can’t think of a reason why we’re out in this crowd when I could be at home feasting upon it."
Jamie could not argue with that logic. She merely grasped Ryan’s hand and let the sexy brunette lead her back to their new family home.
After a very quick check on Duffy, the youngest and furriest member of the O’Flaherty family, they dashed down the stairs to their room. Ryan was preparing to toss her l
over onto the bed but stopped short when she noticed a huge basket filled with gourmet delicacies and a large bottle of champagne. "Jamie," she asked in surprise, "did you see this?"
The smaller woman had been thrown over Ryan’s shoulder, and they both laughed as she stated the obvious. "All I can see right now is a very scrumptious looking leather-covered butt." She reached down with her dangling arms and gave the butt in question a good swat.
Ryan placed her onto the bed gently, allowing her to see their gift. "That's so sweet!" she said enthusiastically. "Is there a note or a card?"
Ryan pulled off the transparent lavender wrapping paper and dug around in the items. "Here it is," she said triumphantly. The note was addressed to "Siobhán and Jamie" and was obviously in her father's handwriting. She ripped it open and read aloud,
This is just a small token to express our feelings for the both of you. We are overjoyed that you have found each other and we hope that your love continues to grow each day.
Welcome to the family, Jamie. We love you like one of our own!
Love always,
Martin, Brendan, Conor and Rory
"This is sooooo adorable," Jamie gushed. "I can’t get over how thoughtful your family is. They’ve really made me feel at home, Baby."
"I’d like to make you feel at home, too," Ryan murmured, falling to her knees in front of her partner. Her eyes were dark with desire, and Jamie felt her heartbeat pick up again as she met and held her gaze.
"What kind of welcome do you have planned for me," she asked softly, running her hands through Ryan’s dark hair.
It was all that Ryan could do to concentrate on the question her lover posed. Her head pushed against Jamie’s hands, willing the touch to continue. "Huh?" she finally murmured, lost in the sensation.
Jamie loved the little seduction games they played, and she decided to continue this one for a while. There was something so arousing about watching Ryan’s normal control collapse bit by bit that she doubted she would ever tire of the game. "I asked," she whispered, as her fingers joined behind Ryan’s head and started to scratch her scalp, "what kind of welcome you had planned for me."
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