by Lisa Moreau
Why do I keep thinking about her?
Determined to come hard and quick, Sophie slipped off her shorts and underwear and stroked herself. When was the last time she’d had an orgasm? Three months? Six months? God, had it been that long? After Cindy dumped her, Sophie’s sex drive had plummeted. She hadn’t had a sensual thought since…well, until Jordan had arrived. For some reason that woman had an effect on her.
“Come on, concentrate,” Sophie scolded herself as she rubbed faster. “Ugh! This isn’t working.” Exasperated, she gave up and sprawled out on the bed. After a few moments, a thought popped into her mind. Hadn’t Cindy given her a stocking stuffer that might help in this particular situation? Sophie bolted out of bed, opened her closet, and rummaged through a cardboard box. She pulled out tools, extension cords, and photo albums, until she finally saw what she was hunting: an unopened candy-cane vibrator. Sophie read the package and chuckled at the one-liner, “Santa isn’t the only one coming tonight.” At the time, she thought it was a cute gag gift but never had the gumption to actually use it. Something about pleasuring herself with a candy cane seemed anti-Christmas. Sophie studied the woman on the package, who wore a revealing crimson velvet miniskirt and low-cut blouse, with the striped red-and-white vibrator strategically placed between her legs. From the look of rapture on her face it must have been doing the trick, which was enough to convince Sophie to rip open the package.
She sat on the bed, installed the batteries, and lay down, willing herself to relax and not think about Jordan, since masturbating while fantasizing about your straight friend was downright creepy. Sophie pressed the button on the vibrator and froze when nothing happened. She pressed it again, with no response. Thinking she must have the batteries in backward, she switched them around. Repeatedly, she punched the button and then resorted to shaking the thing when it didn’t turn on. Finally, it started working. She felt a little guilty saying a silent prayer that it’d stay on long enough to provide release. God probably didn’t take kindly to vibrator pleas.
The pulsations felt good, but Sophie couldn’t get past the fact that she had a candy cane between her legs. Forget about the striped vibrator, Sophie. And God, don’t think about that blind date who insisted you call her Candy Kane. Think about Jordan if you have to, but just come already.
Sophie pictured Jordan hovering above her, beautiful hazel eyes filled with desire, full lips waiting to be kissed. The longing to feel Jordan’s mouth, taste her lips, her tongue, became unbearable. Sophie slipped a hand around Jordan’s neck and pulled her down for a searing kiss. The moment their lips met, the vibration abruptly stopped.
“You have got to be kidding me.” Sophie shook the thing and even banged it against the headboard. Figured Cindy would have given her a crappy present.
Sophie threw the vibrator across the room and released a frustrated growl. Instead of touching herself, she should have just taken a cold shower. That way she wouldn’t be left frustrated, with steamy thoughts of naked Jordan, and with an odd, intense craving for a candy cane.
A run on the beach was a sad replacement for an orgasm, but it was the only thing Sophie could think of to release pent-up energy. She donned Nikes, sweat pants, and a sweatshirt. It was cool outside, but she passed on the fleece jacket, knowing it wouldn’t take long to break a sweat, since she planned on an intense run.
Sophie sped through the eucalyptus forest on the way to the beach, not even slowing down to visit the butterflies. Once she reached the ocean’s edge, she stopped to catch her breath. It was an overcast morning, the sun nowhere in sight. Only a small portion of the water was visible until it melted into a haze. Foggy mornings were the norm along the central coast and something Sophie didn’t mind today since it matched her mood.
The tide was low, which made running easier. She jogged close to the water on wet, firmly packed sand. She flew down the shoreline, disappointed to see the quickly approaching condos. Great. All she needed was another reminder of Jordan. She was glad they were friends again, but some of her daydreams hadn’t been of the friendly nature. As Sophie ran past the condos she tried not to look at Jordan’s deck, but a magnetic force turned her head.
What Sophie saw caused her to stop abruptly. It took several seconds for the image to register. She squinted, thinking the fog had distorted her vision, but no, the scene was undeniable. Jordan and the French coffee queen were standing on the patio kissing. Like majorly kissing. Not just a friendly peck on the cheek, but a full-force, all-out, lip-locking, probably even tongue-touching kiss. Sophie looked down and then back up again. Nope, she hadn’t imagined it. It was like their lips were adhered together with superglue.
What the hell? Was Jordan bi? Or experimenting? Or a lesbian? She couldn’t be gay. She’d have told Sophie by now. Or would she? Sophie had a feeling Jordan was hiding something. Maybe this was it. But why would she conceal her sexuality knowing Sophie was out? Sophie stumbled backward before sprinting down the beach.
Chapter Sixteen
Out of the Closet
Jordan sat on her deck and wondered why she’d told Sophie she wouldn’t be in today. Granted, it’d taken most of the morning to get rid of Bibi, but now she was bored. Jordan grimaced at Bibi’s last-ditch effort to stay. She’d latched onto Jordan like a blood-sucking tick and given her a searing good-bye kiss. It’d taken all Jordan’s strength to push her away. The woman obviously couldn’t take rejection.
It was one o’clock. Jordan could still go to the sanctuary, see the caterpillars…and Sophie. With that thought, she bolted out of the lounger and grabbed her keys.
Sophie was hanging a large net when Jordan opened the door. Her head jerked toward the entrance. “What are you doing here?”
“Thought I’d come by and see how the guys are doing.” Jordan walked to the caterpillars and peered into the enclosure. They were both hanging upside down in a J shape. “Are they shedding their skin again?”
“Yes.”
“What’s that weird greenish color underneath?”
Sophie joined Jordan and looked at the caterpillars. “That’s the cocoon. So how does your guest like Monarch?”
“What?” Jordan looked at Sophie questioningly.
“The French actress.”
“Oh, Bibi. I don’t think this is her kind of town. She headed back to LA this morning. What are the nets for?”
“Monday morning I’ll move the cocoons in there. So who is she exactly? You said she wasn’t a friend.”
“Just someone I know in LA. What happens when they’re in the cocoon?”
“The caterpillar’s organs and other body parts dissolve and re-form into new limbs and wings. Is there anything you want to tell me?”
Jordan looked at Sophie. “What do you mean?”
Sophie started to say something but then retreated, returning her attention to the hanging net.
“Is something wrong?” Jordan asked. No response. Okay, guess she doesn’t want to talk about it. “What’s the temp in Big Sur this time of the year? What should I pack?”
Sophie kept her back to Jordan as she spoke. “You don’t have to go with me, you know.”
“I want to. If you still want me, that is.”
“You’re the boss.”
Something was definitely up, but Jordan didn’t have a clue as to what it was. They’d been getting along so well, but now it felt like when she’d first arrived, with Sophie angry and distant. Jordan looked at the caterpillars, silently wishing she had a cocoon to disappear into.
After a few minutes, Sophie faced Jordan. “I saw you.”
“What?” Jordan asked.
“I was running on the beach, and I saw you kissing that woman on your deck.”
Jordan closed her eyes, rolled her head back, and groaned.
“What’s going on? Are you bi?”
Jordan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m a lesbian.”
“Why didn’t you tell me!?” A mixture of hurt and anger flared in Sophie’s
eyes.
“I don’t know. It just never came up.” Okay, maybe that was a little white lie.
“What are you talking about? There were dozens of times you could have told me. Oh…wait…are you in the closet? You’re not out?”
Jordan walked across the room and sat on the edge of Sophie’s desk. “I’m not in the closet, but I don’t scream it from the rooftops either. Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m just a very private person. Doug tells me I’m too secretive, and maybe he’s right. But I honestly didn’t mean to be deceiving.”
“I have a real problem with dishonesty, Jordan. After my last relationship, trust is a big issue for me. If we’re going to be friends we need to have complete honesty.”
“I would never lie to you. I just…omitted a fact about myself.”
“That’s the same thing as lying.”
“I don’t agree. I never told you I was straight. You just assumed I was.”
Sophie clenched her jaw and squinted her eyes. “It feels deceptive. I wish you’d trusted me enough to tell me. I thought we were friends.”
“We are. I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t trust you. I’m just private. It’s something I need to work on, I know.”
Sophie paused for several long seconds and glared at Jordan. “All right. So, that…Bibi woman…she’s your girlfriend?”
“God, no. Well, we did date a few months, but I ended it before coming here. Her showing up was a complete surprise. And she forced that kiss you saw on me. I guess you didn’t see me push her off?”
“No. I missed that. All I saw was a major lip-lock.” Sophie raised an eyebrow and looked like she’d just tasted something disgusting.
“So, we’re okay? I’m forgiven?”
Sophie pressed her lips together and looked like she was about to ask another question―probably a lot of questions―but refrained, to Jordan’s relief. “I suppose, but no more secrets, all right?”
Jordan held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.” She felt a pang of guilt about hiding the fact that she planned to sell the sanctuary. She did, though, intend to keep her promise not to do so until after February, so that wasn’t like lying. Was it?
Sophie sat at her desk and stared at the computer screen, the tension in the air still palpable. They needed to change the subject, maybe something to lighten the mood.
“Call me crazy,” Jordan said, “but I was thinking about going to my brother’s basketball game tonight. Would you like to go with me?”
“Aren’t you worried your father will be there?”
“Actually, that might be a good thing. We didn’t end on a good note, and I’m not sure how to ask him to get together again.”
“Well, I’d go, but I’m attending a gallery opening with Nanci tonight.”
“Ah. A hot date, huh?”
“It’s just a friendly outing, which I suppose technically could be deciphered as a date.”
“I don’t think she’s right for you.” Did I just say that out loud?
Sophie studied her. “Oh?”
“I’m a professional matchmaker. I know these things. And I’ve totally been slacking. I’m supposed to be helping you find Mrs. Right.”
“And that isn’t Nanci?”
“Definitely not.”
“She seems nice, but I don’t know her very well.” Sophie shrugged. “I’ll see how it goes.”
“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Jordan said, hoping she sounded lighthearted. “So, Big Sur on Monday, right? How many days are we staying?”
“Two nights. We’ll drive back Wednesday. Pack something warm since it gets cold there at night. There aren’t many lodging options, so hopefully you don’t mind sharing a room.”
It hadn’t dawned on Jordan that she’d be bunking with Sophie on this little road trip. And from the sudden blush on Sophie’s cheeks, it had just now occurred to her as well.
*
If it weren’t for Bertha knocking on her windshield, Jordan probably would have driven away. She’d been sitting in her car outside the school gym for at least fifteen minutes trying to muster up the courage to go inside. Bertha jabbed a butterfly cookie into her hand when she rolled down the window.
“Are you here for the game?” Bertha asked.
“I was thinking about it.” Jordan waved the cookie in the air. “Thanks.”
“I make those for the kids. They like a little treat afterward. Well, what are you doing sitting there? Come on in!” Bertha opened the car door and pulled Jordan out of the driver’s seat.
“I’m not so sure I should be here.”
“Whyever not?” Bertha linked arms with Jordan and walked them briskly toward the gymnasium. “Isn’t your little brother playing tonight?”
For a second, Jordan wondered how she knew about Chuck but then remembered who she was talking to. In fact, Jordan wouldn’t be surprised if Bertha knew she was a lesbian, even though she’d just come out to Sophie a few hours ago.
“Yeah, but I don’t really know him. I’m not sure he’d want me here.”
“That’s nonsense. Any kid would be happier than a tornado in a trailer park to have a famous sister like you.”
Jordan snorted a laugh. “You do have a way with words, Bertha.”
“I’m just speaking the truth. Where’s your actress friend? Is she coming tonight?”
“No. She had to head back to LA this morning.”
Thanks to Bertha, Jordan’s nerves had subsided a bit by the time they entered the gym. Obviously, this was the place to be on a Friday night in Monarch. The bleachers were packed.
Bertha grabbed Jordan’s hand and pulled her along. “Coach Bryant always saves me a courtside seat. You can sit with me.”
They walked around the gym and squeezed onto the bench behind the home team. Bertha gave the coach a quick wave, which garnered a wink that had her giggling like a schoolgirl. Jordan smiled to herself. Bertha had the hots for the coach, and from all appearances it seemed to be mutual.
“So, Bertha, have you ever been married?”
“Once, for a few wonderful years. Wilbur didn’t come back from the Vietnam War, like so many others.” Bertha got a faraway look in her eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry. And you never met anyone after that?”
“No. He was the love of my life, and now I’m far too old at sixty-five to find a husband.”
“Sixty-five isn’t old! You’re one happening chick. You own a successful business, you’re a great cook, you’re attractive. Sooo…is the coach single?”
Bertha shot Jordan a curious look. “He’s a widow. His wife died of cancer about five years ago.”
“Hmmm…looks like a nice guy.”
“Now, Jordan Lee, I’m not one of your fancy Beverly Hills clients. Soul mates can’t be replaced.”
Jordan couldn’t argue with that, but the matchmaker in her wanted to make a love connection. Bertha deserved to be with someone who would put a smile on her face. The coach looked like a nice, jovial sort of fellow, who reminded her of a Buddha with his big belly and infectious smile. Most of all, Jordan liked the way his eyes sparkled when he looked at Bertha. She had a good feeling about him.
“Jordan!”
Someone called her name, but she wasn’t sure where it was coming from.
“Jordan! Over here!”
She looked down the line of incredibly short basketball players until she spotted Chuck waving both arms high in the air. She held up her hand before glancing in the stands to see Rebecca staring right at her. Her father, though, was nowhere in sight.
Jordan eyed the opposing team, the Baskerville Bees, across the court. Even though Monarch Butterflies didn’t sound terribly threatening, she was pretty sure they could kick some Bees ass.
“Where’s the scoreboard?” Jordan asked, looking around the gymnasium.
“They don’t keep score,” Bertha said.
Jordan stared at her, dumbfounded. “How do they know who wins?”
“They p
lay for fun.”
For fun? Jordan had never heard of such a thing. Why play a sport if you didn’t keep score? Once the game started, Jordan had to admit it was amusing to watch. The kids were pretty cute, especially the ones who ran around in circles purposefully getting dizzy until they collapsed on the court. Her favorite, though, was the Bee who seemed to be allergic to the ball. Either that or he thought they were playing dodgeball instead of basketball. He’d cost his team at least eight points so far. Yes, Jordan was secretly keeping score and happy to report that the Butterflies were up by six points, mostly due to her little brother. Chuck sank several baskets, often looking at Jordan afterward to make sure she was watching.
After the game was over, Chuck ran straight to Jordan. “You came!”
“Hey. You played awesome.” She jabbed him lightly on the arm.
Chuck grinned. “I bet we won.”
Jordan glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then bent down and whispered, “You guys killed the Bees. Sixteen to eight.”
“Yeah, baby!” Chuck pumped his arm and gave Jordan a high-five. Rebecca walked up and placed her hands on Chuck’s shoulders. “Mom, Jordan came to my game.”
“I see that. Why don’t you get your stuff so we can scoot out of here?”
“But Ms. Bertha brought cookies.” Chuck pointed to a group of kids with a cookie in one hand and a juice box in the other.
Rebecca sneered. “Ten minutes and then we have to leave.”
“Come on, Jordan.” Chuck grabbed her hand, which she didn’t mind in the least. She’d rather spend time with sweaty seven-year-olds than Rebecca any day.
Bertha handed them both a butterfly cookie as Chuck went to fetch them a drink.
