by Anne Eton
Rising to her feet and turning, she saw Gina in the doorway dressed in her regular t-shirt and jeans. The tall girl grinned. “Forgot my homework.” Entering, she picked up a backpack and slid it upon her shoulders.
Dominika said nothing. She was aware of her hair down, of the nightdress upon her body, of how little the garment left to the imagination. She wondered if Gina cared.
It seemed she didn’t. Gina turned to leave. But then she paused, and turned back to the blonde girl. Dominika felt her skin grow hot under Gina’s gaze.
“That strangulation scene made the play,” Gina said finally. “And that was because of you. So I wouldn’t have gotten that review if it wasn’t for you. So, thanks.” Before Dominika could reply, the actress had disappeared.
Dominika cursed herself. That was your moment, she thought. Your big moment. And what did you say? Nothing! However, even in her frustration, Dominika admitted that she did not know what, exactly, she could have said because she did not know what, exactly, she wanted.
After the final performance and the last curtain call, many tears were shed backstage.
“It isn’t over yet!” Gina announced. She held up her hands. “Wrap party is tomorrow, my place. There will be plenty of alcohol—compliments of my dad, and his liquor store.” Cheers. “He and my mom are not leaving until morning, otherwise we could just have the shindig tonight. So anyway, head over to my dorm tomorrow. Party starts at noon, and ends when everybody is either passed out or expelled.” Whoops and high-fives all around.
As everyone began to leave, Dominika wanted to say something to Gina. But she did not know what. So, she asked the tall girl if it would be all right if she, Dominika, brought along a few of her Widows a cappella singing friends. Gina assured her that that would be more than fine, and made sure Dominika knew where to go.
The Polish girl and her Widows friends arrived at the party early evening. Dominika was surprised to see that almost all of the cast and crew were already there. When Gina had said the party began at noon, Dominika had thought she was kidding.
“Desdemona!” Gina cried, throwing open the door. She clearly had had quite a bit to drink. “I greet thee… well, shit, I can’t remember any Shakespeare but anyway, come on in!”
Dominika had the great pleasure of introducing her Widows singing friends to Gina and her theater friends. Who would have thought, she reflected, that the shy Polish girl would one day have such a social network? She felt a proud glow of accomplishment. And then, suddenly, she remembered that she had not achieved all she desired.
Before the party, Dominika had stood naked in her bathroom, studying her body in the mirror. How do I accomplish this? she had wondered. The problem was that she still did not know, exactly, what she wanted from Gina. All she knew was that Gina had been constantly in her thoughts, almost from the moment she had met her.
Do I want to be her lover? Dominika felt her cheeks burn, both for her thoughts about sex and for embarrassment at her own vacillation. She felt like Hamlet, a character whose biography she had read when researching Shakespeare generally for her acting. What do I want? She did not even know if Gina was attracted to her, or could be attracted to her. The blonde took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. You must calm yourself, she thought. Focus, and approach this rationally.
She opened her eyes. Looking down, she stared at her bush, a thin triangle of pubic hair so blonde and fine that it was almost invisible. She ran her fingertips through the thatch absently. I am very blonde, it is true, she reflected. Gina’s ex-girlfriend, Annabelle, was also blonde. That is something in my favor. Yes, it was in her favor if Dominika wanted to be Gina’s lover. But did she?
Dominika kept gazing downward. She felt paralyzed. She burned with emotions for Gina, and, yes, felt a sexual hunger for Gina, a hunger that she had never felt for another person. But Dominika’s experience with sex was non-existent, and even if she desired a sexual experience (or, could it be hoped, experiences, plural!) with the tall Italian-American goddess, the outcome would most likely be disastrous. And then their friendship, tentative as it was, would be destroyed. Gina would want nothing to do with her ever again.
And even if such a physical relationship somehow were successful, what of the future? It was obvious that Gina would follow a stage career, perhaps in New York. Dominika would be returning to Europe after graduation, in only a few short weeks. She had been accepted to the best medical school in Poland, located in Kraków. It was all arranged. A “done deal,” as the Americans said. Dear Americans! She would miss them.
And she would miss Gina most of all. The thought tightened her throat. She fought the urge to cry. For a wild moment, Dominika fantasized about Gina joining her in Kraków, learning Polish and becoming the toast of Poland’s acting world. But she knew that that would never happen.
Dominika sighed. She had gotten no further than where she had been before. What did she want with Gina? From Gina? The blonde stared hard at her naked reflection in the mirror. The girl who stared back was petite, pale, and perhaps sexy. Was a one-night stand, a “hookup,” really the best that she could realistically expect for herself and Gina, given their circumstances? Perhaps so.
Dominika tried not to think about how hard it would be to leave Gina in the morning after such an encounter. She took one last deep breath, nodded, turned off the bathroom light and entered her bedroom to dress.
At the party, everything had gone wrong. Gina was constantly surrounded by well-wishers and friends; her charisma attracted people like a bulb attracts moths. Dominika had only found one opportunity to exchange a few words with the tall girl. Gina was constantly on the move, thanking people for their congratulations and attending to hostess duties.
And now Gina’s roommate Tracy had begun the Linda Lovelace challenge, of which Gina was good-humoredly taking part. The participating young women sat on the floor cross-legged in a circle, egged on by the tipsy cheers of their peers. Dominika watched one girl fit a whole eight inches of zucchini down her throat. A blow job. That is what they were called. The Polish girl had difficulty believing that men and women actually did such things. If she, Dominika, ever married, would her husband expect her to swallow his… phallus? The thought nauseated her. She looked around for a distraction. Dominika watched the TV weatherman issue grim warnings of an imminent cold front.
The zucchini passed to the next girl: Gina. The noise in the room rose an octave. Dominika glanced. Gina held the vegetable and smirked at it. Then she wiped it on her shirt with a long, slow, sexy twisting motion, in and out. The onlookers howled.
“Where’d she learn to do that!” one of her friends shouted.
“Drama school!”
“Must’ve been some teacher!”
“How do I get that teacher!”
Gina glanced at her onlookers saucily. Then she raised the zucchini and began to slide it, slowly, into her mouth. The girls counted off the inch marks: “One!… Two!… Three!…”
It kept disappearing… and disappearing. The cries became higher-pitched as Gina broke the eight-inch record and still kept going. “Ten!… Eleven!… Twelve! THIRTEEN! FOURTEEN!”
Gina had slid the zucchini as far down into her throat as it could go. She smiled, and slowly withdrew it.
Dominika watched, fascinated. She realized that she had risen out of her chair and joined the throng, getting herself a front-row seat as it were. Why am I not thinking very clearly? she wondered. Dominika glanced down at a plastic cup in her hand. It held an icy red liquid. Ah yes, she thought. Strawberry margaritas. How many had she drank? She had lost count after three. And she intended to drink many more. If she could not talk to Gina, at least she could get herself passed-out drunk.
Girls were asking Gina, some seriously, about her swallowing secret. Gina grinned. “It’s all in the wrist.”
“I ain’t following that act,” said the girl who received the zucchini next.
Suddenly the door flew open. “So here’s a party. I might have know
n!”
Annabelle was dressed to the nines as usual. She walked in, offering little waves as if she were on the red carpet at the Oscars. “Hello everybody! Oh, are we late? Ha, ha!” Annabelle swayed slightly; clearly she had had a few, herself.
The noise in the room died. Only the stereo, playing hip-hop, could be heard. Someone shut it off.
“Hey! No music? Aw, c’mon. Mike likes music. Where is he. Mike!” Annabelle turned around, looking.
A preppy young man entered, ill at ease. He shut the door behind him.
“Heeere he is,” Annabelle trilled. “Everybody: meet Mike! He’s at Harvard. And he is awesome.”
Gina rose from the floor. The other sitting girls did the same, looking down. Gina walked away. She turned up a flight of stairs, disappearing from view.
“Not leaving ‘cause of lil’ ol’ me, are you?” Annabelle called after Gina. Upstairs, a door slammed. Annabelle shrugged. “Well, that’s a shame. I wanted you to meet Mike.”
“Uh… what’s happening here?” Mike whispered to Annabelle.
“Nothing! I just wanted you to meet some acquaintances. Wanted to show you off. Because you, my friend…” Annabelle paused, and leaned all the way over so that she could shout up the stairwell: “Are somebody with a FUTURE!”
“Fuck off,” Dominika heard herself utter.
A pin’s drop could have been heard. Annabelle’s head slowly swiveled around. Her cold eyes settled ominously upon Dominika. “What did you say?”
“I said fuck off. Nobody wants you here. FUCK OFF!” Dominika hurled her drink, cup and all, into Annabelle’s face. The victim gasped; red liquid dribbled down onto her expensive white sweater. Dominika kicked Annabelle in the shin with all her strength. The Hitchcock blonde cried out, clutched her leg, and toppled over like a tree. Dominika kicked her again, and would have lunged upon her but was restrained by the guests.
Mike backed away. “I don’t know what’s going on here,” he said. “But I’m out.” He turned, opened the door, and exited.
“No!” Annabelle raised herself, hobbling after him. “Wait! Wait! Don’t go!” She cast a frightened look back at Dominika, who was spewing obscenities and struggling to get at Annabelle through the many arms that held her back. Annabelle hurried out the door. Somebody closed it.
In moments, Gina reappeared, wide-eyed. “What happened?” she asked. “Was there a fight?”
People explained what had gone down.
“Where’s Dominika?”
All heads turned toward the corner.
The Polish girl sat sobbing in her chair, head cradled on her knees. In contrast to her formidable display earlier, she now seemed very small and fragile.
Gina approached. “Hey,” she said. “Hey.”
Dominika gave no sign of having heard. She kept crying.
“Hey,” Gina repeated for the third time. She placed an awkward hand upon the blonde’s shoulder. “You all right?”
“I’m sorry,” Dominika said through her sobs.
“Sorry for what? You just did what my roommate has said she’s always wanted to do.” Gina glanced at Tracy, who nodded grimly.
“You just became my new best friend,” Tracy said.
Dominika made no reply, only weeping louder.
The guests shuffled their feet. “You know, it’s getting late,” someone said.
“Yeah…”
“No!” Gina jumped up. “What? Annabelle gets her ass kicked, and everyone’s depressed?”
A few girls laughed.
“C’mon,” the Italian-American continued. She brushed her long black curly hair over her shoulders. “This is a happy occasion. All right? Let’s not let Annabelle ruin the party.” Gina turned back to Dominika, kneeling and patting her knee. “Okay?” she asked softly.
Tracy turned the music back on. People began chatting again.
When Dominika finally looked up, she saw Gina, still kneeling and looking at her.
“Hey,” Gina said.
“Hey.”
“That was some beatdown. So I heard. You couldn’t have waited till I was around?”
Dominika coughed a laugh and wiped her nose.
“Are all Polish girls as tough as you?”
“No,” Dominika said seriously. “And I am not tough.”
Gina considered her. “Yeah. Right.”
“I should leave.” Dominika made to rise.
“No!” Gina pushed her back into the chair with a gentle hand. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have to go get some more chips and stuff.” Gina glanced at empty bowls on the counters and tables. “And I’ll need some help bringing everything back. What do you say? Come with. Okay?”
Dominika looked down. After a moment, she nodded.
“Good.” Gina rose and spoke a quick word to Tracy. Then she beckoned.
As Gina and Dominika left the apartment, they shivered. “Wow,” the taller girl gasped. “It’s freezing.”
“The television said that a cold front was approaching,” Dominika said as they hurried down steps to the sidewalk.
“Approaching, my ass. It’s here.” She glanced at the blonde. “Did you bring a coat?”
“No.”
“Want one?”
Dominika shook her head.
“Okay. Well, we better jog.”
They broke into a trot. Dominika followed Gina’s lead. They crossed the campus, taking many short cuts.
On a sprint across a field, Dominika slipped and fell. “Ow!” She rolled on the grass, clutching her ankle.
Gina was immediately kneeling by her side. “Oh, shit. Okay, let’s see.” Gina examined the ankle, asking where it hurt.
Dominika realized that their faces were very close together. She liked the feel of Gina’s warm hands on her ankles and legs.
With a start, the blonde realized Gina was saying something. “What? Sorry.”
“I said, can you stand?”
The taller girl helped her to her feet. Dominika tried putting a little weight on her injured ankle. She grimaced, lifted it, and hopped on the other foot.
“Okay, clearly, that’s not gonna work. We…” Gina’s voice trailed off.
Puzzled, Dominika studied her.
Gina was staring at her companion’s chest.
Following the tall girl’s gaze, Dominika looked straight down. The cold wind had made Dominika’s nipples hard. Her white shirt had pressed close to her breasts like a second skin. Her bra and what it contained were clearly visible through the perspiration-wet fabric.
“Sorry,” Gina said.
“That’s all right.”
“So,” the Italian-American continued, all business. “You hopping isn’t gonna cut it. We need to get there and back, fast. If I’d known this weather would have picked up, I wouldn’t have left at all.” She glanced at approaching dark clouds. “Let me carry you piggyback.”
“Piggy what?”
“Just hop on.” Gina squatted in front of her. After Dominika’s protests came to naught, she climbed onto Gina’s back. The taller girl lifted her effortlessly and resumed running toward the blinking lights of the campus sundry store.
“You are very strong,” Gina said.
“Yeah, well. Say. Those are some headlights you got there.”
Dominika glanced down. Her bouncing breasts were rubbing against Gina’s back.
Dominika giggled. “This happens on certain occasions.”
“Yeah. Like plays.”
“What?”
“You’re lucky I didn’t forget my lines on opening night.”
Dominika was struck dumb. She thought Gina had not noticed her headlights during the strangulation scene.
“It was everything I could do to not… Okay, we’re here.” Gina slowed. A sign on the front door of the shop read: “COLD FRONT COMING. STAY INSIDE. THIS MEANS YOU!”
“Bitches!” Gina exclaimed. “They mean, THEY will go stay inside. Shit. Okay. W
ell, that was a wasted trip.”
Not at all, Dominika thought as Gina turned back, jogging along a street. The Polish girl snuggled close, wrapping her arms around the brunette. Her arms accidentally brushed the bottom of Gina’s big breasts.
“Careful,” Gina warned.
“Sorry.”
“No, it’s not that. If you distract me too much, I may get lost and we’ll freeze out here.”
Dominika laughed, and Gina laughed with her. They talked happily about the play, enjoying a feeling of closeness that had eluded them before.
“Hey, I’m gonna cut next to the pond by the road. We’ll get home faster. Okay?”
“Lead on, MacDuff!”
“Wrong play!”
Gina dived through some trees. In seconds, her legs were pumping by the pond’s muddy bank.
Dominika felt the tall girl’s feet slip. “Uh oh,” Gina said.
The next thing Dominika knew, she was sitting in shallow water and covered in mud.
“Dominika!” The Italian-American crawled up fast. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” the blonde replied, slightly dazed. “I believe so.”
“God, I’m sorry.” Furious, Gina smacked her fist into her thigh, hard. “I get you out and twist your ankle, now this. What’s next. Hypothermia?”
As if in response, a terribly cold wind ripped through them. The girls shrieked.
“Oh, the water feels so warm!” Dominika gasped. She turned and moved toward the middle of the pond, frog-paddling.
Gina began to tell her not to, but the Polish girl was laughing. Gina watched blonde hair disappear under the water and then pop up again.
“In Europe we swim in natural water,” Dominika said. “Like this. It is good for the body.” She laughed again, ecstatic.
“Girl, you are truly something else.” Gina hesitated, then dove in to join her. She surfaced next to Dominika.
“Is this not so much better?” Dominika said.
“Yeah,” Gina replied, spitting water. “But we can’t stay here all night.”
“Will you keep me warm?” Before the brunette could answer, the Polish girl embraced her, holding her close. After a moment, she also wrapped her legs around the taller girl’s waist.
