by Deena Bright
“Like earlier tonight, I invoked feelings in you, feelings that you decided to explore. That’s wonderful; curiosity got the best of you.” She smiled, looking at me with awe. “And that is so hot, so sexy, but tomorrow, when you wake up, you’ll still be the heterosexual female that was checking out the single men in the bar and nobody would dare say otherwise.” She’d stopped caressing my nipple and looked directly at me. “But if a man were to fall into bed with another man, all viewpoints of his sexuality would change, altering him for life. Being a woman is so liberating.” She giggled again, putting her hand up my shirt, caressing my bare stomach, inching closer to my breasts.
“I’m not sure what to say to that. Should we stop? Do you think that I’m not into this?” I was starting to lose my buzz and beginning to question what and why I’d allow this to start in the first place.
“Janelle, I’m having fun; you’re obviously having fun. Stop analyzing everything. We’re not gonna do anything you’re not comfortable with or I’m not comfortable with.” She was so smart, so wise. I was awed by her. I remembered her being smart in high school, but this was extraordinary. She evolved; I was proud of her.
“We’re not gonna fly back to Ohio on Wednesday and try to legalize gay marriage, for fuck’s sake.” She laughed, nudging me. She started kissing my neck, licking my earlobe again. “I just wanna have fun tonight, maybe not even do more than this, and go back remembering that I had a kick ass time in New York City.”
Okay, a month ago, I was happily (or so I thought) married to my college sweetheart. This month, I am fooling around with not one, but two of my former students. For sure, I was breaking some sort of law. One thing was for certain, they were a lot smarter than I ever gave them credit for. I wondered if I should find a way to go back in to the record archives and change their grades. They were damn geniuses.
“You’re right. I’m having fun. We should keep having fun until we decide to stop or until one of us passes out.” I laughed, kissing her again. Kissing a girl was monumentally different than kissing a boy, different from kissing Briggs for sure. His lips were so strong, so needy, and hungry. Sarah’s lips were so delicate, but confident and sure.
Sarah sat up and removed her shirt and bra. I followed her cue, and removed my shirt as well, wearing only my underwear. “I think this will be good for tonight. I don’t want you hating yourself in the morning.” She said.
“What? You’re cutting me off?” I whined, wrapping my arms around her, kissing her neck. The sensation of our bare breasts, naked nipples touching, sent currents of electrifying desire throughout my body. I’d never felt anything so sensual and erotic before, definitely never anything so forbidden. The feeling of our nipples massaging together dampened my panties and made me moan with desire and want.
She kissed my neck, licked my shoulders, traveling down my body. She looked in my eyes and said, “Janelle, believe me when I say that I really…really want you. But we need to take this slow.” She was tickling my stomach, staring at me. “I want to taste every inch of your gorgeous body. You are doing things to me that I thought had died inside me months ago. I cannot thank you enough for that.” She sucked my nipple, rolled the bud around in her mouth, blew a cold breath on the dampened nub. I moaned, pulling lightly on her hair, running my fingers along her scalp. She moved to the other nipple and massaged the flesh, tugging softly on the nipple.
“Oh Sarah, this is so hot; so sexy.” I breathed.
“Thank you, I needed that. And you, you’re gonna thank me tomorrow. You’re beautiful and worthy, and you deserve the world.” She came back up to me, kissing me deeply and passionately. I reached around her, but not before she pulled away and sat up. “Good night Janelle,” she said, smiling happily.
It took a moment for her words to register. I sat up, shocked. “You’re leaving?”
Still smiling, she pulled on her shirt, and said, “Yes, because we need sleep for the gala tomorrow. Because this could turn into something real for one of us and because one of us is going to wake up tomorrow with all that Catholic girl guilt. You know who is who too.” She kissed my head, grabbed a bottled water from the mini bar, and left.
“Oh fuck.” I mumbled and fell soundly asleep.
Chapter Eighteen
The next morning, I woke up exactly how Sarah predicted I would. What in God’s name was I doing? What was becoming of me? What? I’m a lesbian now? Oh what have I done? I laid in bed not wanting to face the day, to face her. I couldn’t believe I did what I had done. Anxiety was setting in. I couldn’t spend the day with her. I hope she hadn’t fallen in love with me. I didn’t want a relationship with her. Holy fuck.
My phone rang; it was Sarah. I refused to answer it. I hit the “decline” button at the same time I heard her through hotel room door, “Janelle, open up you predictable freak. I know you’re in there.” I laid there afraid to move, to make a sound. Maybe she’d go away, fly back home, forget what we’d done.
The door rattled and Sarah walked in. “When I left last night, I took your key; I knew you’d be too guilt-ridden to face me.” What was with all of my students taking my keys, stopping in, deciding what was best for me? These kids needed knocked down a few pegs.
Sarah came over and plopped down on the bed, handing me a Starbucks cup. She looked great. Her hair was in two French braids, hanging down her back. She was wearing workout gear and tennis shoes. She looked as if she’d just gotten done with a quick workout. Wasn’t she as drunk as I was last night?
Sarah’d woken up happy, full of life and renewal, not because she was in love with me, but because she knew she’d be able to love again. She was no longer afraid. Sarah had actually gotten up and gone running in Central Park, fully rejuvenated. No wonder she and Japser got along so well. A love of running!
Apparently, there was a woman at Garrity Advertising who Jasper had wanted to fix her up with, but Sarah had been too heart-broken, too gun shy to agree. But when she woke up today, she knew that she wanted to go out with her, try something new. “So get up, stop beating yourself up,” she pulled on my arm, forcing me to sit up. “You helped out a friend, no more, no less. Let’s catch the ferry and go see the Statue of Liberty; that bitch rocks!”
She was so happy, so full of life. I was jealous. I wish I woke up so sure of myself, sure of the decisions that I made. I spent my life second-guessing myself.
I laughed, “Really? Statue of Liberty? Are you sure we’re okay; you don’t think less of me?” I really couldn’t shake this feeling that I was disappointing everyone around me, letting everyone down.
“Think less of you? Oh for God’s sake! You got me out of my funk, and I fulfilled a seven-year fantasy last night.” She smiled triumphantly.
I looked at her questioningly. “Seven-year fantasy?” I asked.
“Yep, ever since you wore that baby--” She said.
“Shut up, don’t say it!” I screamed, pulling the covers up over my head, blocking out the words.
She screamed louder, “That baby costume, I’ve wanted to see your tits.” She laughed, trying to pull me up out of the bed. “Not only did I get to see those babies, but I got to touch ‘em and lick em.”
“Oh my God, kill me now. Did you just say ‘tits’?” I admonished. “That’s disgusting; girls aren’t supposed to use that word.” I laughed, throwing my pillow at her.
“Yep, now get ready. Tits. Tits. Tits.” I jumped out of the bed, holding my hands over my ears.
******
Sarah and I had a great time sight-seeing and being the typical tourists. We hit all the trademark touristy spots. She was great company and quickly turning in to a good friend. I was glad she kept my key and forced me to see the truth. If it were up to me, I’d still be in my hotel room looking for ways to avoid her for my misconduct and poor decisions. But she was right, it was healthy to explore and experiment. Our “hookup” last night gave her clarity and made her realize that it was time to reopen her heart; it gave me clarity as well. I
spent the entire day thinking about Briggs and Leo. Yes, Leo too. Exploring my sexuality was definitely number one on my to do list. The first two things that I wanted to do: Briggs and Leo. Both!
Chapter Nineteen
Walking in to the fundraiser, I felt gorgeous; the plum-colored backless dress was an immediate confidence booster. I knew I looked sexy; Sarah kept pointing out men who were ogling me. I enjoyed the attention. My self-esteem was out of whack and going haywire. One minute, I felt gorgeous, carefree, ready to take on the world; the next minute, I doubted myself, hated myself, and didn’t know where I was going in life. Maybe these were typical emotions for a victim of infidelity. I didn’t know. I didn’t know anyone who’d ever experienced this before. I made a mental note to hit some book stores back home about coping with lechery and getting over my feelings of inadequacy. I never thought I’d be one to need “Self Help” books, but damn, I certainly needed them.
As we approached our table, Sarah stayed back, forcing me to walk to the table alone. There was one lone woman at our table, her back to me. I approached the table, not believing my eyes, hoping I wasn’t imagining things.
“Mom?” I choked, tears welling in my eyes.
“Oh Janelle, I’m so sorry. I’m here. Marcus is a stupid, stupid man.” She held me tightly, rubbing my back. I clung to her, sobbing in to her shoulders, ruining my hair and makeup.
“But how? How are you here? Why?” I couldn’t believe the one person that I needed the most was right in front of me, holding me, protecting me. I never wanted to let her go.
“Jasper and Joz thought you could use your mom.” Oh God, they were right; they knew. Neither one came here either; they weren’t making me share her. “Jasper flew me in for the night; that boy has some serious money. We need his money.” She laughed, directing me to the chair.
I sat down, staring at her. She was beautiful; she looked younger, happier, so full of energy and life. When did that happen? How did that happen? My mom hadn’t really been there for me since I was 20 years old. Now, when I needed her the most, at 29, when my world was crumbling around me, and I was making bad decision after bad decision, here she was. I couldn’t stop crying.
“Janelle, I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you.” She shook her head, putting her hand on mine, squeezing it lightly. “I know this is tough for you, but you’re a rock honey. You’re gonna get through this.” She looked so sure, not wavering at all.
“Mom, I just, I just don’t know what to do.” I felt my lip quiver and my eyes spilling out again. “I feel like such a fool.” I put my head in my hands; she rubbed my back.
“That’s ridiculous!” She exclaimed. Turning her head, “You must be Sarah,” she said. Sarah approached the table, gave my back a quick pat and sat on the other side of me.
“Yes, Mrs. Garrity, Jasper’s told me so much about you and your husband; it’s wonderful to finally meet you. “ Sarah leaned over me and shook my mom’s hand. Had Jasper really talked about my mom to her? How close were they? I wondered if I could convince her to marry my brother; she’d be perfect for him. All except for the whole lesbian thing. Damn.
“Call me Sue; Jasper exaggerates, but it’s nice to finally put a face to the name.” My mother took a sip of her wine, and asked us if we wanted a drink. My mom knew about Sarah, too? How often were my mom and brother communicating? I thought that we only talked to them once a month. Hmmm, someone’s been holding out on me.
“I’m on it; you two catch up.” Sarah got up and said, “Janelle, martini?”
“Not tonight; just a glass of white wine please.” I couldn’t drink like I did last night. If I kept this business up, I’d be in AA in no time. I couldn’t wallow in alcohol for the rest of my life.
“Did you girls have fun last night?” My mom asked. I was not about to answer her truthfully. How could I tell my mom that we got loaded up and then made out in my hotel bed? Hell, in her newfound euphoric state, she’d probably be proud of me. Was it possible that the world wasn’t judging me as harshly as I was judging myself?
“Yes, Wicked was amazing.” I raved about the show and Nobu until Sarah returned with our glasses of wine.
“Sarah, I cannot believe you got this girl to try sushi; she never tries anything new.” My mom casually announced.
“I know; I’m gonna work on her trying new things and opening up a little more.” Sarah laughed, held up her glass, and said, “To new beginnings.”
We clinked our glasses and sipped our wine. I couldn’t believe my mother had flown all the way to New York to be with me. I hadn’t felt so loved in, well, ever. The night was truly magnificent. Writing the check, Jasper’s check, to the March of Dimes felt more than philanthropic; it felt therapeutic. I couldn’t sit around feeling sorry for myself when real suffering, human suffering existed in the world.
My mother talked a little bit about the children in the orphanage and the connections she was making with them, the breakthroughs they were having. My parents really were remarkable. Nearing 60 and she seemed younger than I had ever known her. Growing up didn’t have to be synonymous with growing old. I could learn from this mess without making myself old, angry, and bitter, without hating and mistrusting men. If my parents could start over, then I could certainly start over at 29.
“Men aren’t the problem Janelle. Marcus was the problem; he isn’t every man.” She was right; I knew that. “Marcus was never the man for you. You were never yourself with him. He grounded you; you couldn’t fly with him.” Wow, just last night I said that I needed to “defy gravity” and my mom was saying the same thing. She wanted me to fly.
She went on, “You latched on to Marcus when your dad and I left, so you’d have someone, the wrong someone, but someone nonetheless. You basically went straight from that adorable boy from high school to that ass.” She shook her head. “It’s important for women to date, learn what they really want in man, or a woman.” She was looking from Sarah to me. She really must have talked to Jasper about Sarah. Unless my mom had the keenest “gaydar” on the planet.
“Amen,” Sarah concurred. “I read once that the average woman sleeps with seven to ten men in her lifetime. So how many, Janelle?” She asked innocently. I reddened immediately; this was not a topic that I’d ever talked to my mother about.
My mom laughed, “Janelle would like us to believe that it was only Marcus, but we knew she slept with her high school boyfriend.” She grabbed my hand and squeezed it affectionately. “They weren’t as sneaky as they thought.” Smiling and shaking her head, appearing entirely amused, she stood up to excuse herself. As she walked away, I’d realize that I’d never felt like an adult around my mom, but tonight I was starting to feel like it. How could a 29-year-old woman still feel like a child around her parents?
“Is she right, only two?” Sarah asked, incredulously.
“Well, I mean, I’ve fooled around with guys, frat boys in college, hooking up and crap, but if we’re talking sex-sex, like penetration, then yeah. Two. Todd in high school and Marcus.” Suddenly, I felt embarrassed, humiliated by my innocence. I couldn’t figure myself out. Sometimes I was proud of my innocence and naiveté; other times, I was embarrassed by my lack of experience and knowledge.
Cracking up, Sarah squealed, “I’m a lesbian, and I’ve slept with more men than you.” She was laughing and pushing against me. She’d slept with her high school boyfriend and a few guys in college before she’d met Vivian and realized that she wanted something completely different.
“Shut up, that’s just because you were searching for something else,” I shoved her back. “Something those boys didn’t have.” I teased.
“No, because I don’t have your crazy hang-ups about sex and what’s right and what’s wrong.” She was dead on. Man, if I ever got her and Char together, they’d gang up on me and kill me with all their “Janelle-rightness.”
“I don’t have--” I tried to argue.
“Really, then why aren’t you fucking the shit out of Brigg
s and Leo?” Holy shit. How did she know about them? She and Jasper must be BFFs; this was nuts. I always tried to get him to talk to me, open up to me, share with me, never happened. Sarah had been back in town for six months, and she knew everything about all of us. That was just nuts.
“I’m not gonna--” I really didn’t know what to say or how to defend myself.
“Supposedly, the sexual tension and body language when they’re around you is intense.” I couldn’t believe Jasper’d picked up on that and talked about it with Sarah, no less. My world really was out of whack. “Hey, I went to school with both of them. Briggs is a hot piece of ass. Leo was a geek, can’t believe you’d wanna ride that.” She said, scrunching up her nose.
“Leo isn’t like that at all; he’s smart, funny, and extremely good-looking.” I felt compelled to defend him, to make sure she didn’t think poorly of him.
“Running to his rescue, are ya?” Standing up to leave when she saw my mother approach, she whispered, “Get on them; you owe it to yourself.” Walking around the table to hug my mother, she announced, “I’m gonna circulate the room; you two catch up.”
My mom and I decided that we’d cut out early and spend some quality time together. I told Sarah that I’d meet her in the lobby the next morning for a quick breakfast, before flying home. I was not ready to go back home and face reality again. I liked playing pretend in New York City. Maybe I’d just quit my job, get a waitressing job at Nobu to afford my new Wicked-crack addiction. I liked the sound of that.
My mom and I walked around Times Square and ended up sitting on a bench in Rockefeller Center, people-watching, one of our favorite pastimes together. Or used to be.
“I just don’t enjoy judging people anymore,” she wasn’t looking at me, but looking at all the people walking by, as if she were finally seeing them as humans, not punch lines. “There are so many more important things in life. Never realized it before,” she said, shaking her head. “I wish I could go back in time and re-raise you kids; I’ve failed you in so many ways.” My mom was pensive and remorseful, looking forlorn. I hated seeing her with regret, beating herself up.
