by Ella Ford
Hours later, I found myself lying awake, unable to sleep. The earlier breeze had died down and the oppressive air of the humid night made it hard to settle. I was unable to quiet my racing mind and kept returning to that frantic moment up on the bluff, replaying the memory of what had happened, trying to make sense of the implications.
I’d never felt like that before, never had such strong feelings for another person, let alone a woman. But there was something about Belle that I found maddeningly attractive, something that compelled me to confront thoughts that were new and intriguing. I found myself picturing her, standing there in the soft light of the moon; the simple features of her face, ruby lips and deep blue eyes, with high cheek bones and alabaster skin; her long legs, coltish and toned; and the gentle swell of her breasts beneath the pink dress uniform, heaving as she breathed, pushing against my own modest bosom as we embraced. I thought of the taste of her mouth and the feel of her lips, slick and warm, sliding against my own with choreographed ease; the writhing presence of her tongue as she probed my mouth, wet and alive, rolling against mine.
Oh god! I thought to myself, was I a lesbian now? To my surprise, I found that I didn’t care. It didn’t seem to matter to me what that meant, or what the conservative churchgoers in the small town would think. All that I could think about was Belle and the world of possibility that had opened up before me.
When sleep finally came, it was light and fitful, shot through with strange dreams of soft flesh and forbidden tastes, and a feeling of expanded horizons, of revelation.
The following morning, I woke up with a feeling of bold purpose. If there was one thing that my car accident and subsequent brush with death had given me, it was a sense that life was short and you should seize every opportunity that presented itself. All that I knew on that sultry Sunday morning was that Belle had dominated my thoughts for most of the night, and there was probably a reason for that.
It was my day off, but Carly’s Grill was open as normal, so I called my workplace as soon as I knew that Carly would be around to answer.
“Carly’s Grill, Carly speaking, what d’ya need?” drawled Carly as she answered the call.
“Oh, hey Carly. It’s Laura here,” I replied.
“Hey honey, how ya doing? You leave your bag here last night or something?” she said, sounding as genuinely pleased to hear from me as Carly ever got.
“No, no, nothing like that. I just wondered if you had a number for the new girl, Belle? I was going to see if she wanted to see a movie today. Welcome her to the town you know?” I said, ashamed of the half-truth. I felt a light flush spread across my face, and wondered if Carly could detect my sordid intent.
“Aw, sweetie, you’re a doll! I’m sure she’d love that… Wait one minute sugar,” she said, and I heard the sound of her rifling through the yellowed Rolodex that she kept by the cash register. “Here ya, go. You got a pen?” she asked.
“Sure, go ahead.”
“It’s 555-6969. Got it?”
“Great, got it, thanks Carly.”
“No problem honey. You girls have a good time you hear, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she said with a chuckle and hung up the phone.
I placed the handset down and took a deep breath, staring at the scrawled note. My heart was hammering in my chest, and I was suddenly overcome with feelings of self-doubt. But I scolded myself for being so silly and picked up the phone once more.
After three rings I was about to give up, when the line clicked and I heard a familiar voice. “Hello,” said Belle, a single word that conjured up a world of emotion inside me.
“Uh… hi Belle. It’s Laura… from last night. I mean, from work,” I stammered, realizing that I hadn’t given a single thought to what I was going to say.
“Hello Laura, how are you today?” she replied with a pleasant tone that seemed measured and even, not a hint of emotion or surprise.
“I’m good thanks. Listen, about last night… I shouldn’t have left you, it was just…” I stopped, unsure what to say.
“It is okay,” she replied, “it was my fault. I should have known that you weren’t ready yet.” There seemed to be a hidden implication in her words, something that lurked on the periphery of my senses but which I couldn’t fully discern.
“I um… I wondered if you wanted to see a movie this afternoon? With me, I mean. Top Gun is showing at the Regal Theater in town…”
The line went quiet and I felt a mild panic rising inside me. Had I misread the situation? Had I scared her off? Suddenly, a realization dawned on me and a picture emerged in my mind. Belle, standing with the phone pressed to her ear, a blank expression on her face as she processed the suggestion in that strange robotic way that she had. No sooner had the thought coalesced, than she spoke again. “I would really like that Laura,” and I got the sense that she genuinely meant it. “Shall I meet you there?”
I gasped with an unexpected delight. “Uh, sure, yeah. I’ll meet you outside at five, I’ll buy the popcorn!” I said, feeling lightheaded and bold.
“Pop... corn?” replied Belle and I laughed.
“I’ll explain later,” I said and ended the call, then fell back onto the bed with my heart pounding and my mind alive with possibility. My first lesbian date!
The day passed in a flash of panic and self-doubt, and a lot of indecision about what to wear. I didn’t have an extensive wardrobe, but I had enough permutations of cute outfits that the entire afternoon disappeared in a flurry of skirts and tops and preppy sweaters. I had only a vague idea what girls wore on dates with guys, my track record in that regard was hardly stellar, I’ll begrudgingly admit; so I had no idea what to wear on a date with a girl!
Was it even a date? I was pretty sure it was when I hung up on Belle earlier, as my mind buzzed with the heady prospect of these new feelings. But as the day wore on, and the piles of discarded clothes on my bedroom floor increased in height, I began to wonder. Was this just a normal friend date to Belle? Were passionate kisses, like the one we shared, just something that European girls (or wherever she was from) did with their pals? I had no idea, I realized with mounting terror.
I considered dropping out, calling up Belle again and making an excuse. But I held my course, propelled by a tangible excitement that felt new and different.
In the end, I selected a loose, thigh-length yellow skirt, a white vest top and a tight pink cardigan, with flat shoes. It was the closest I could come to a neutral outfit - sensible enough to appear casual and relaxed, but tight in all the right places to incite any feelings of desire that Belle might have. I twirled around in the mirror, allowing the flimsy skirt to lift and reveal the tanned flesh of my shapely thighs, and touched a finger to my lips provocatively. Pretty good, I thought, if I do say so myself.
Belle was waiting for me when I arrived at The Regal Theater. I felt myself relax noticeably, steadied by the realization that this wasn’t some kind of cruel joke. I studied her as I approached, taking this opportunity to complement my feverish memories with a prolonged inspection.
Belle’s straight, shoulder length blonde hair was held back in a cute ponytail, revealing the pale perfection of her oval face. She was staring straight ahead, gazing at something across the street, her face blank and expressionless. Her hands were thrust into the pockets of a letterman jacket in the colors of the local high school football team and she was wearing a short, denim skirt with tan pantyhose and knee length cowboy boots. She looked as cute as she possibly could and I caught myself as my eyes crawled over her, attempting to commit every forbidden detail of her body to my mind.
“Hi Laura,” she said as I got close. “Did you have a good day?” she asked, the strange formality of her question at odds with her relaxed manner.
“Hi,” I breathed, my voice sounding distant and meek. I coughed and attempted to pull myself together. “Yes, thank you, it was very relaxing,” I lied.
She touched her hand to my arm and I suppressed a shudder, then she leaned forward a
nd gently kissed first one cheek, then the other. European, definitely, I thought to myself.
“Should we go in? The movie starts in a few minutes,” I asked. Belle smiled and nodded, then took my arm and allowed me to lead us into the deserted theater.
We made our way through the vintage lobby and paid for our tickets, then picked up a box of popcorn, as promised. I held out the box and Belle stared at the buttery snack, then lifted a single piece to her mouth with a look of nervous trepidation. I studied her as she pushed the corn between her full lips and allowed the taste to permeate her senses. Abruptly, her face lit up and she beamed with a genuine smile of pleasure that was radiant and warm, a far cry from her usual robotic mannerisms. “Oh, I see why you like it!” she said, reaching into the box and taking a large handful.
“Hey! Save some for me!” I cried out with mock offence and we laughed together, dispelling any remaining sense of awkwardness between us. “Don’t you have popcorn where you’re from?” I asked as we made our way to our seats.
“No Laura, we don’t have pop-corn,” she said, stumbling over the strange word. “I wish we did,” she added with a mischievous smirk, and reached into the box for more.
We chose to sit close to the back, away from the scattered pairs of cinema-goers who joined us in the dimly lit theater. I directed Belle to sit down and joined her, offering her the popcorn to hold as I took off my cardigan and sat beside her.
“I really can’t imagine growing up without popcorn and movies,” I said truthfully.
She gazed forwards, a distant expression on her face.“My home is very different to yours,” she teased.
I left it at that, inwardly vowing to find out more later. The film was starting and the lights lowered, plunging us into darkness and flicking a switch inside me that revealed a sudden awareness of Belle’s proximity and the subtle scent of her perfume.
For the next thirty minutes, I was dimly aware of dancing fighter jets and Tom Cruise’s perfect smile, but it seemed distant and unimportant, compared to the perplexing awakening of my new sexuality. My mind raced with thoughts that I didn’t recognize, and urges that seemed different and strange. Every few minutes I would risk a glimpse at Belle, taking mental pictures of her as she stared at the large screen with rapt attention and absentmindedly chewed on the salty popcorn. The flickering light lit her features with a cold radiance that reminded me of the moonlight from the previous evening, casting her high cheekbones and button nose in stark relief.
After long minutes of this I felt a sudden bold urge wash over me. Reaching across the armrest I snaked my arm over and lightly touched my hand to her knee, attempting to appear as subtle as I possibly could. My fingers brushed against her leg and I shuddered visibly, dispelling any appearance of poise and confidence. Belle’s thigh felt soft and warm, the flimsy material of her pantyhose silky and smooth. I started to stroke my fingertips up her thigh, rigid with the fear that she would scream or flinch or push me away. But she allowed my advance and turned to me, her head cocked to one side as she smiled at me faintly. I shifted in my seat, turning my body slightly so that I faced her and replacing my left hand with my right on her maddeningly soft leg. She responded by turning towards me and, before I knew it, she’d reached her hand up and cupped her palm to my cheek. I gasped at her touch, feeling an all encompassing warmth that caused me to lean my head into her hand without thinking. I closed my eyes and parted my mouth expectantly, knowing what I wanted, urging her forward with my wanting expression.
To my surprise, she didn’t kiss my mouth. Instead, she leaned in and touched her lips to my neck, brushing aside the loose tumble of my honey blonde curls and pecking lightly at my fevered skin. I pushed my head back and sighed, exposing my neck to her like a mesmerized victim of a master vampire. She shifted in her seat, lifting herself to meet my offering and showering me with hot, confident kisses. Each electric touch of her mouth sent jolts of pleasure through my body, causing tingles in my limbs and provoking a sleeping beast that lurked in my pussy.
I felt my body acting autonomously, driven by instinct and lust, seeking out new thrills with every passing second. My roaming hand, the advance scouting party of my new desire, worked its way up her leg, gripping the firm muscle of her thigh, savoring the velvety softness of her pantyhose.
Suddenly, Belle pulled back and I gasped, shocked by her sudden absence and gripped by the fear that I’d done something wrong. I breathed out and tried to focus on her in the flickering light of the movie screen, fearing that she’d be standing to leave. But she was frantically pulling at the armrest, pushing it back into the seat and removing the barrier between us. Then she moved her body closer to me and hooked her hand under my trembling thigh, lifting my leg and placing it over her own. I gasped loudly at the sudden feeling of having my legs spread open in a public place, but allowed her to position me how she wanted. In truth, if she’d asked me to strip naked and run down the aisle singing The Star Spangled Banner then I think I would have considered it seriously, such was the intoxicating depth of my desire.
“Ssssh,” came a voice from across the cinema, and I realized that my moan had been louder than I’d anticipated. Belle and I giggled together, then fell back into the passionate kiss. She seemed frantic now, her mouth sliding over mine, moist lips and eager tongue exploring me with reckless abandon. Her hand gripped my leg, caressing and stroking along my calf and my thigh, slipping under my loose, yellow skirt. I shivered as her hand conveyed her growing confidence, each touch on my fevered skin burning into me and causing waves of pleasure to roar through my limbs and igniting the flame in my pussy.
I shifted in the seat, animated by a deep instinct that seemed detached from my conscious mind. I knew what I wanted with a carnal intuition that was centered between my legs. I pushed my hips forward and allowed my knees to fall apart, relishing the sudden brush of cool air up my skirt. I reached up and gripped her face, holding her head around the ear and plunging my fingertips into her soft, blonde hair, then kissed her with a hot intensity that surprised even me. With my tongue, I repelled her invading presence from my mouth, rolling and licking at her, desperate for her taste, that vital sweetness. I pushed forward between her lips and she allowed my rally, submitting to my advance, allowing me to probe her, to explore her. Then I dropped my hand and grabbed her wrist, pulling her exploring hand upwards and placing her fingers on my sex.
It was her turn to gasp, shocked by my frantic insistence, thrilled by the damp presence of my aching pussy. But she soon recovered and twisted her hand, pushing aside my wet panties and finding the inviting folds that demanded her attention. My body went rigid as her hot fingertips brushed my lips, a sudden pulse of pleasure radiating out from every electric contact. I longed to cry out, to urge her on, to plead with her to go further, deeper, but I knew that I must stay quiet. I opened my mouth and squeezed my eyes shut, struggling to contain the boiling forces within me.
Belle sensed my pleasure and quickened her fingers, drawing them up and down through my labia, teasing my tight hole and my throbbing clitoris with a torturous rhythm.
My mind was racing, unable to believe what I was doing, what was happening to me. I struggled to process the overwhelming cacophony of sensation that rippled upwards from my burning pussy. Was this really happening? Was I allowing a strange girl to touch my most private place in a public theater? What would my parents think? What would my friends think? But I didn’t care about any of that. I only cared about Belle, her hungry mouth and skillful fingers. I wanted to grab her hand, to drag her to my apartment and rip her clothes off, plunging into the deep pool of my desire and satisfying myself with her hot body. My entire being cried out for this and sang with the harmony of my frantic lust.
I lowered my head again and found her mouth, touching my lips to hers. But I didn’t attack her with the same ferocity this time, content instead to feel the gentle sigh of her breath, the soft brush of her moist lips, the sticky tang of her lip gloss. I felt her cheek brush aga
inst me, the gentle nudge of her nose on mine, her inescapable closeness, and the insistent rhythm of her fingers as she settled on my clit and pressed down with tiny swirls.
With a sudden lurch of realization, I felt the familiar approach of climax. Faint at first, but unmistakable and inevitable, it rose in my pussy and pulsed. I tried to push it away, but it grew with every quickening motion of Belle’s fingers.
Distantly, I wondered how I would ever keep it inside me, how I would internalize the coming wave of pleasure and prevent myself from screaming out and grabbing Belle. But the compelling weight of the fireball between my legs numbed my mind and I thought no more, giving myself over to the expanding fire.
I felt my breathing changed, shifting to short, sharp pants. I gripped Belle’s head. pushing my mouth on hers and attempting to dissipate my growing pleasure into her. Faster and faster her fingers moved, pressing down harder with every stroke, dipping into my hot labia and gripping my lips between her eager fingers.
And then my pussy exploded and my mind went blank. The building tension roared outwards and ignited my entire body, energizing every tortured nerve ending with a debilitating white noise.
I pushed my head back and opened my mouth in a silent scream, desperate to release the raging energy, but somehow preventing myself from crying out. Belle’s face fell to my neck, frantically pecking my flushed skin, each touch of her lips leaving an agonizing heat behind and ramping up the spiralling intensity of the orgasm. I pushed her away and clutched her to me, the contradictory actions serving to convey how much I wanted the orgasm to stop, how much I never wanted to let it go.
Abruptly though, it ended and I felt my tortured body go limp, collapsing back in the seat, leg still sprawled over Belle’s lap, her hand still touching my aching pussy. I wrapped my arm around her and she lay her head on my chest, shifting her hand from between my legs to cup my breast. Any thought of public condemnation had fled from my mind as we snuggled together, bathing in the cooling glow of my fading orgasm. At that time, all I wanted was Belle.
