The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica

by Barbara Cardy

  “Whatcha looking at?” Gina whispered as she leaned over my shoulder. My eyes darted from Gina to the birthday girl, who judging from her wide smile was obviously amused by my antics.

  Snapping my newspaper back in place, I raised one eyebrow at Gina. “Nothing,” I replied.

  “Musta been something. I asked you twice if you wanted me to reheat your tea.” Gina leaned one hip on my booth and looked utterly too pleased with herself.

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Want to do it now?” I slid the cup towards her.

  “In a minute.” She jerked her head to the left. “Know who she is?”

  I sighed. Trust Gina to have come away with a name and social security number in exchange for that cake. I sometimes wondered if she was a former CIA operative from her ability to gather information. But she didn’t look the part with her soulful brown eyes and five foot two frame. People just naturally opened up to her. If I owned a bar and Gina tended, we’d be rich.

  Lowering my paper a fraction of an inch, I studied the woman in question as she stood slicing pieces of cake for her friends. She was slender but not thin, and a mint green sweater outlined the perfect swell of breasts and tapered down to the trim waist of her slacks. A few tendrils of copper hair fell forward and she absently reached up to push them back. Beautiful, I thought.

  “Nice to see you’re human after all,” Gina said as she nudged my shoulder and brought me back to my senses. “Now, wanna know who she is?”

  “You mean besides someone I’ll probably never see again?” At that, Gina snatched a section of newspaper and whacked my leg.

  “I swear, Kai, fate could be knocking and you’d stop to catch the rinse cycle to add softener before answering.”

  I had to laugh at that because it was pretty much the truth. Since my uncle retired eight months ago and sold Brody’s to me, I had focused all of my energy here. Having my own restaurant was more work than managing one for someone else, but certainly worth it to me. Plus, how could I pass up the opportunity to see my last name in lights every night? Had to keep it in the family, I reasoned. Unfortunately it left little free time in the evenings and my social life had become less of a priority.

  “Her name is Riley O’Fallon,” Gina continued. “She’s the host of that radio talk show I told you about. You know, Confessions After Midnight.”

  “Oh, you mean the station that has the ’alternative lifestyle format’? The one where women call in to see who has the most depressing love life?” I knew that would get Gina riled up. I braced myself for the inevitable paper slap but it never came. Instead, Gina tossed the newspaper onto the table and narrowed her eyes at me.

  “It’s a lot more than that, Kai. Don’t knock something you don’t understand. People call into that show just to have someone to talk to late at night when maybe there’s no one else who’ll listen.”

  “OK, OK,” I held my hands up in surrender. A thought occurred to me then and I asked, “Have you ever called the show?”

  “Yeah, I have,” she answered, not meeting my eyes.

  I reached out and tugged on her sleeve. “Hey, you know you can call me any time.”

  Gina met my eyes then and the corner of her mouth quirked up in a grin. “I know, but this was before I knew you were home every night. Now why don’t you go do that thing you do and ask them how their meal was?” She pushed off the bench and strolled away.

  Picking up my newspaper again, I tried to concentrate. After reading the same paragraph three times and not remembering a word, I gave up. Refusing to admit defeat, I stretched and unfolded myself from the booth. Slipping my charcoal blazer back on, I ran my hand through the black curls that just brushed the back of my collar and crossed the otherwise empty dining room to the only table left occupied. Four pairs of eyes, including two incredibly green orbs, all settled on me.

  “How is everyone this evening?” I launched into my automatic speech. “We hope you enjoyed your meal and look forward to having you with us again.”

  “The fettuccini was excellent,” a twenty something man replied enthusiastically. “Are you the chef?”

  “No, that would be Stephen,” I smiled. “My name is Kai Brody, I’m the owner. But I’ll be sure to pass on the compliment.” My gaze was drawn again to those green eyes as the woman whose name I already knew introduced herself.

  “Nice to meet you Kai. Riley,” she said as she offered her hand. “We really enjoyed ourselves.”

  As I took her hand in mine, the sensation was so acute I wondered if every nerve in my body had suddenly become hotwired to my palm. Dimly I realized I hadn’t released her hand and I quickly broke contact. I gestured towards the remainder of the cake with my wayward digits.

  “Gina can box up the rest of that for you when you’re ready to leave.” Disconcerted, I turned to go when Riley’s voice stopped me.

  “Would you like a piece?” Her question caused all eyes to once again focus on me. The unintentional double meaning to that simple question flashed across my mind and I was acutely embarrassed by my train of thought. I opened my mouth to decline, but Riley continued. “My friends need to call it a night but I actually start work in about an hour. I’d like another cup of coffee before I go if I could impose upon you to keep me company.” She paused, then, “Or I could play the sympathy card since it’s my birthday.”

  “There’s the Riley we know and love,” the fettuccini man chimed in as he picked up the check, accompanied by good natured laughter around the table. Everyone rose, taking turns to embrace Riley and then suddenly we were left standing in silence. I spied Gina and the busboy waiting in the kitchen doorway and I motioned them over.

  “Why don’t we sit over there?” I suggested, pointing to the next table. Automatically I pulled out a chair for Riley and a surprised expression briefly crossed her features.

  Spinning back around to retrieve the remainder of the cake, I nearly collided with Gina.

  To her credit she was trying to suppress a smile and didn’t say a word, much to my relief. She simply handed me the leftover dessert and headed back to the kitchen. In a moment she returned with a fresh dish and silverware, a steaming cup of coffee for Riley and a carryout box. We both thanked her and she winked at me and followed the busboy’s cart back out.

  Suddenly nervous, I wiped my damp palms on my chinos and sat down. Riley had already cut a slice for me and was putting the rest into the cardboard container. The single candle stuck up just far enough to prevent the lid from closing. As I watched, she pulled it out and popped the icing-covered tip in her mouth, licking the bit of frosting from it. The innocent act suffused me with heat. Flustered, I said the first thing that came to mind.

  “Did you make a wish?”

  Riley’s wide smile answered for her. “Yes, I did. But I don’t think you’re supposed to tell them to anyone or they won’t come true.”

  “You have a point,” I conceded.

  She took a sip of coffee, studying me as I ate. “Kai,” she said. “That’s an unusual name for a woman.”

  I grimaced as I swallowed my last bite and Riley laughed at my pained expression. “I know for a fact that the food here is excellent, so it must have been the question that was sour.”

  Rolling my eyes, I repeated the same story I’d been repeating all my life. “It’s a shortened form of the word kayak,” I explained. “My parents had a twisted method for naming their children. Every summer they took a vacation and tried a new adventure sport. The year I was conceived, they paddled kayaks down the Colorado. Two years before that they learned to paraglide. My sister’s name is Sky,” I finished.

  Riley snorted once in an effort to control her laughter. “I’m not laughing at you,” she declared.

  “Sure, I see that,” I nodded in agreement.

  “No, really I’m not. I like your name. Somehow it suits you,” she said without any hint of sarcasm.

  “Thanks. So Gina mentioned that you’re on the
radio.” I wanted to steer the conversation away from myself.

  Riley paused, then asked, “Do you listen to my show?”

  Figuring honesty was safer, I replied, “No, not exactly. I’ve caught bits and pieces when I’m station-hopping in the car, but I’m afraid that’s all.”

  “That’s OK.” Visibly relieved, Riley continued, “I’m actually glad you don’t. I love what I do, talking to people about their hopes and dreams, their happy endings and their disappointments. Even with all the broken-hearted women out there this job is ten shades lighter than my last one. But I don’t like to lead with it because people get a preconception.” She grinned. “I’m far less entertaining in person than on the radio.”

  “So what did you do before?” I queried, then, “I’m sorry; that’s a personal question.”

  “No, it’s all right. I was a criminal psychologist. Don’t ask,” she warned in mock seriousness.

  “You mean like a profiler?” I was intrigued. “Isn’t that a bit of a leap in career paths?” I couldn’t help teasing.

  “Isn’t it though?” There was that rich laugher again, but she didn’t offer any further information. Glancing at her watch, she said apologetically, “I have to get going if I don’t want to be late.” Standing, she offered her hand again. “Thank you for extending the evening with me. I enjoyed your company.” She hesitated, about to say more and then stopped.

  “No thanks needed; it was a pleasure,” I replied automatically, disappointed that it had come to an end but not having the courage to risk more. I watched Riley leave and was surprised at the vague sense of loss that followed. That lasted all of thirty seconds before Gina’s voice behind me caused me to flinch again.

  “What do you think?” she asked, hopeful.

  “I think you need to stop sneaking up on me like that,” I said, exasperated.

  “You didn’t used to be this jumpy. Too much stress. Need to do something about that. Why don’t you ask her out?”

  I rolled my eyes for the second time that night, hoping they wouldn’t stick that way. “It’s not that simple, Gina. I don’t know if she’s attached. Hell, I don’t even know if she’s gay,” I pointed out logically.

  Gina only took out her order pad and wrote something down. Tearing off the piece of paper, she slid it in my blazer pocket and asked, “Isn’t it closing time?”

  That night at home in my living room I sank into the deep cushions of the leather couch. Balancing a glass of blackberry wine in one hand and the remote in the other, I switched on the stereo. Gina’s piece of paper lay on the coffee table. On it was scribbled the call letters WYXX and the digital number. Scanning until I found the station, I leaned back and looked at my watch. It was 11:58. The commercials finally ended and a voice I recognized came on the air.

  “It’s midnight ladies, and we know what that means. The kids are in bed and your parents aren’t listening so it’s time to confess what’s on your mind. For tonight’s topic I thought we’d explore birthdays. I just had one. Spent it with friends, did the whole blowing out the candle making a wish thing, and met a cute woman to boot.”

  At that, I choked on my wine and stared at the speakers as if they’d suddenly caught fire. Could she have been talking about me? No, I just didn’t get that lucky. She must have meant somebody else. I focused on what she went on to say.

  “So call in and tell us about that one birthday you spent with someone that you’ll never forget. Or maybe you’d like to forget. Phone lines are open now.”

  I sat through the hour long program and saw how easily total strangers found it to talk to Riley. She never belittled, genuinely laughed when something someone said was hysterically funny, which it often was, and mostly just listened. And I figured that was the big draw for most of her listeners. I added WYXX to my favourites list and switched off the stereo at 1:00 a.m.

  Friday at Brody’s was always packed and a constant stream of customers kept me busy until closing. I didn’t have time to think much about what, if anything, I was going to do with my infatuation. Gina did manage to ask me if I wanted to catch a late movie after closing with her and her partner, but I asked for a rain check. When she grinned and asked if I had a hot date at midnight, I did what any mature thirty-year-old would. I told her I had no idea what she was talking about.

  11:45 p.m. Same couch, same radio station. I was a little early, but figured I could kill fifteen minutes opening my mail. When the familiar theme music came on, I tossed aside the envelope I was opening. Riley’s voice came through the airwaves and I settled in to listen. The usual opening catch phrases aside, she gave the topic for tonight.

  “It’s Friday, people, so let’s get a little wild. There’s no full moon, but we can pretend there is. Haven’t you ever met someone and fantasized about what would happen if you could take them on your own personal version of a perfect date? Would it be romantic or would it be steamy? I want details, ladies, but don’t get us fined by the FCC. Call me later for that,” she laughed.

  I sat still, terrified of the idea that came to mind. No. I couldn’t. I had never done anything nearly as crazy as what I was now considering. But I was seriously considering calling. What did I have to lose besides my dignity if it didn’t work? I was already pretty sure that sitting at home listening to a woman on the radio every night was more pitiful than actually getting shot down by that same woman. I picked my cell up from the coffee table before I lost my nerve. I had to wait until Riley gave the station phone number again and then had to call twice before I got through, only to be put on hold. When a man’s voice finally came back to me, he asked my name and told me I was caller five and to turn down my radio.

  The room had gotten uncomfortably warm and I had trouble paying enough attention to what number caller Riley was up to as I listened to the show through my phone. When she said goodbye to caller number four, there was silence. Then her voice came back, but with a hint of uncertainty and she continued.

  “Now we have caller number five and her name is Kai. So tell me Kai, what’s your fantasy date?”

  I didn’t think; I couldn’t or I would never be able to speak. I just said what came to mind without any filters.

  “I hadn’t really ever given much thought to what a perfect date would mean to me until tonight. If I had to pick a place, I could say a deserted beach, a blanket and seeing how beautiful her face looked in the moonlight. But honestly the location isn’t important to me. Just being with her would be fantasy enough,” I finished all in one breath and waited.

  Riley didn’t answer immediately and then said, “For not giving it much thought until tonight I’d say that’s pretty good. It would work for me anyway.” Pause again. “Is there anyone out there you’re hoping is tuned in right now?” she asked.

  “She heard every word,” I replied, the idiocy of what I’d just done dawning on me.

  “Well, then maybe you’ll be calling us back with an update. For now though we have to break for one of our sponsors. Don’t go anywhere,” she ended as a commercial came on.

  I wasn’t sure if she meant me or her audience until I heard a click and the line was transferred to one without the program playing in the background. Then Riley’s voice came back and she asked, “Kai, is that you?”

  It was put up or shut up and I was already in deep, so I tried to sound more confident than I really was. “Hey Riley. Yeah, it’s me. How many other women do you know by that name?” I tried to joke.

  She wasn’t having any of my nonsense though and stated, “I thought you didn’t listen to my show.”

  “I don’t. I mean I didn’t until last night.” Exasperated, I tried to explain. “Look, I know this was probably at the very best an inappropriate way to call you, but I didn’t plan it; it just happened. I’m sorry if I overstepped,” I finished, feeling more miserable and stupid by the minute.

  “No. No, it isn’t that. You just caught me off guard, is all. Listen, I have to get back. I’m off tomorrow night if you want to talk abo
ut this. What time can you leave the restaurant?”

  Not expecting this, I stammered, “They can do without me any time after nine.”

  “Good enough. I’ll see you then. Oh, and Kai?”

  “Yes?”

  “Turn off your radio. It’s making me too damn nervous.” And with that, she was gone.

  The next day I alternated between mild panic and cautious excitement about seeing Riley. Gina kept giving me strange looks after I told her she was head honcho because I was leaving a little early. She basically ran things anyway even when I was here, so I knew I wouldn’t be missed. She finally cornered me in the kitchen and wanted to know if I was sick. This of course triggered a fit of laughter on my part and I knew I really did need to try and get out more.

  At ten minutes to nine I wondered how rude it would be to meet Riley out on the street and not have to let Gina see her. I didn’t wonder for long because she was early. Gina spotted her the same instant I did but I got to her first.

  Riley looked fantastic but maybe that was relative since I had only one other visual point of reference, but I didn’t think so. She wore a white linen shirt tucked into black jeans and topped with a black leather blazer. “Ready?” was all she said and I nodded and followed her out.

  We got into a mint condition sleek metallic blue corvette that I knew had to be at least a ’56 or ’57. She turned her head briefly and raised one eyebrow. “Do you always get into a strange car and not even ask where you’re going?”

  “No. Aren’t you worried I’m some crazed fan stalking you?” I countered.

  This got a laugh from her and she answered sensibly, “You don’t fit any profile I’ve ever studied. And for the record, I never, ever would agree to meet any caller from the show. If I hadn’t already known you from the other night this would not be happening.”

  She drove on in silence for several minutes and I realized that we were heading for the coast. You could already smell the salt from the ocean and the early March air already felt cooler. Pulling into a medium sized marina, she parked the vett and cut the engine.