by Donna Jay
“I know you’re weird.” Yvonne chuckled.
Julie tackled her, pinning her to the sofa. Ginger let out a meow and scrambled out from between them.
Pussy.
Holding Yvonne’s hands above her head, Julie gazed into her eyes, hypnotised by the swirling green depths. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking…” Yvonne looked away, shaking her head.
“Uh-uh. Talk to me.”
She met Julie’s gaze, her eyes full of love, her expression vulnerable. “I’m thinking, I’d die if anyone knew we were doing this. I mean, what kind of woman am I to be turned on by the idea of making love to another woman?” Her throat worked, “And that the idea of you watching excites me.”
Desire blazed to life between Julie’s legs, hot and urgent. She pushed her thigh between Yvonne’s and could feel heat and wetness seeping through her slacks.
“God, you’re sexy.”
The landline blared to life, startling them both. “Fuck.” Julie put a hand on her chest but didn’t move.
“Aren’t you going to get that?” Yvonne wiggled beneath her.
“Nah, I’ll call her back.” It could only be her mother, and if it wasn’t it would be a telemarketer or scam, so she didn’t want to know.
“It could be an emergency.”
Groaning, Julie rolled off Yvonne and landed on the floor with a thud. That did the trick, the pain in her backside took her mind off the throb between her legs.
“Don’t move,” she said as Yvonne flung her legs around and sat up.
“I’ll be right here…messaging Pamela.”
Hightailing it to the kitchen before the phone stopped, Julie slipped on the linoleum floor. She grabbed a cupboard handle, righting herself before snatching up the receiver. “Hi, Mum. What’s up?”
She braced herself, and her mother didn’t disappoint. “Why does something have to be up to phone my daughter?”
Oh, how about because nine out of ten times when you phone, something’s up?
“This is a social call then?” Julie wandered back into the living room, portable phone tucked under her ear.
“Yes and no. What are you up to next weekend?”
That was a good question, and one Julie didn’t know the answer to. She glanced at Yvonne busy tapping away on her phone. Regardless of what they arranged with Pamela, family came first.
“Not sure, why’s that?” Julie pulled back the curtain and gazed out the window. A young girl poked a flyer in their letterbox, waved, and continued on her way.
“I’m going on a tiki-tour.”
That had her attention. A huge smile split her face. Finally, her mother was re-joining the living. “That’s great, Mum. Where to?”
“Blue Duck Station.”
“Where?”
“I told you, you should’ve paid more attention in school.” She could practically see her mum shaking her head. She’d seen the look many times when she was a teenager.
“Geography didn’t include little known places in New Zealand.”
“True.” Her mum snickered. “It’s on the banks of Retaruke River. You could goggle it.”
“It’s Google, Mum.” Julie rolled her eyes when Yvonne glanced in her direction.
“Google it, goggle it, same thing. Now all I need is a ride to the bus.”
And there it was. She did want something, and Julie certainly couldn’t begrudge her that. Her mother had always been a nervous driver and stopped driving long before Julie’s father died, which sadly added to her isolation.
“Would you like me to drop you off?”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t impose.”
Mrs Emmett’s words rang in Julie’s head making her heart heavy. “Mum, you could never impose. I’d be offended if you didn’t let me pick you up and drop you off. What time?”
“Bus leaves at eight a.m. and gets back in at four forty-five.”
“See you Saturday.” After saying goodbye, Julie disconnected the call. She clutched her phone to her chest as if it was her mother.
“Everything okay?” Yvonne asked.
“Everything is great.” Her mum’s call had lifted her spirits, not that they hadn’t been pretty high before she interrupted them. “She’s going on a bus tour, wanted to know if I can drop her off on Saturday.”
“That’s fantastic.” Yvonne looked as happy as Julie felt.
“It is.” She sunk onto the sofa cushion next to Yvonne. “What’d I miss?”
“Pamela lives in Marton.”
Half an hour away. “Did you send a picture?”
“Yep.” A cheeky smile accompanied the reply.
“And?”
“Have a look.”
Julie thumbed to the message box on the dating app. Excitement and apprehension warred within her when she noticed an icon indicating a picture attachment. “Do I want to look? She didn’t send a pic of her va-jay-jay, did she?” She nudged Yvonne playfully.
“Just open it.”
Wow. The woman was gorgeous; not runway model gorgeous, but she had an aura about her that screamed sex appeal.
A burgundy corset moulded to her body like a second skin, showing off every delectable contour of her breasts, waist, and full hips. She had a full figure and owned it.
Her eyes sparkled with mischief. Her naughty smile was infectious, literally. Yvonne was watching her with a grin from ear-to-ear.
“You like?”
“You need to ask?” She flicked back a couple of messages and couldn’t believe the image Yvonne had sent. “You sent a picture of us at the hotel. On our anniversary. Wearing nothing but robes and a smile.” It was a selfie they’d taken after the unexpected encounter with a very sexy officer.
“Did you notice she’s bisexual?” Yvonne asked.
“I did,” Julie replied, feeling defensive on Pamela’s behalf. She hated how much bigotry Sadie had endured all because she was bi. “Is that an issue?”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist. It just makes her more interesting. I wonder why she’s off men at the moment.”
“Perhaps you can ask her.”
“Perhaps I will,” Yvonne said with a decisive nod.
It took everything in Julie not to say ‘please don’t embarrass me.’ The woman—Pamela—looked like she could hold her own. And if she was anything like Sadie, she’d had to defend her sexuality more than once.
The glow of a red box drew their attention back to her phone. They had a new message.
‘Would you like to meet? It’s easier to talk in person than on this site. I like the picture you sent, but personality’s what really makes a person shine.’
“I like this woman more and more by the second.” She showed the message to Yvonne. “What should I say?”
“Tell her we’d love to meet, and we’re free on Sunday.” She pursed her lips. “Should we go to Marton or meet her somewhere in Feilding?”
“Maybe we could meet halfway?” Julie said as she tapped out a reply.
“Right,” Yvonne said dryly. “Sure let’s meet in Halcombe, population 500 and counting. Is there even a café there?”
“Forget it, we can go to Marton, good excuse to go for a Sunday drive.”
Half an hour later, as Julie was dishing up dinner they received a reply. Yvonne wandered into the kitchen, reading aloud.
‘Sounds good, see you at Sugar Plum Café, 10:30 a.m. Don’t be late, lol.’
“Oh, asserting her power already.” Yvonne hip-bumped Julie as she grabbed knives and forks out of the drawer.
“She was kidding, you know, LOL, laughing out loud.” It sounded plausible, but Julie suspected Yvonne was right. Pamela’s boots and corset screamed I’m in charge. Or perhaps that was fanciful thinking.
“Keep telling yourself that, but I think you’re about to meet your match.”
Surprised by how relaxed Yvonne appeared to be, Julie abandoned the butter chicken and pulled her into her arms. “Are you sure you’re okay with this, and not just putting
on a brave face?”
“I am totally okay with this.” Yvonne pecked Julie on the lips. She tasted like lust and wine. “You’ve always wanted a dominant woman, and if we can find one it will be a bonus.” Her lip kicked up. “She might teach me a trick or two.”
When she swatted Julie’s backside, Julie marvelled over how much their relationship had changed in such a short time. All for the better. “We’ve come a long way since your surprise lunchtime visit, haven’t we?”
“We have.” Yvonne gave her a coy smile. “And to be honest, I’m embarrassed by my behaviour that day. I should’ve just confronted you.”
“Hindsight and all that.” Julie waved her off. “Let’s eat.”
Chapter 21
Over the following week, Julie couldn’t get her mind off their upcoming meeting with Pamela. Every time she thought about it, she shook her head. The actuality of what they were doing was mind-blowing, and she had to admit, exciting.
She wasn’t worried it would harm their relationship, if anything, she hoped it enhanced it. The simple fact Yvonne had opened up so much lately had already brought them closer.
They’d exchanged a few more messages on Find Someone and garnered the basics about Pamela, which wasn’t much at all. She was a busy woman and worked erratic hours.
Likewise, they’d shared the basics about themselves; they lived in Feilding, both work full-time, and had one fur baby.
In her last message, Pamela double checked they were a gay couple, apologised for asking, and added she’d been blindsided before. Apparently, a woman sent her a picture of her and her sister, then turned up with a man, hoping they could sway her to be their unicorn.
“What’s a unicorn?” Yvonne had typed the word into Google and answered her own question. “It’s a bisexual person, not always female, willing to join an existing couple.”
Was that what they were looking for? Yes and no. They wanted someone to join them, but whether it became a regular thing remained to be seen.
***
Saturday morning, Julie arrived at her mum’s right on seven-thirty. Plenty of time to get her to the bus depot on time.
There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the day was mild. The earthy fragrance of spring tickled her senses as she stepped out of the car.
Birds twittered around a bird feeder hanging from a tree. A pang of nostalgia hit her when her gaze landed on the rusty old slide and swing set. Why her parents had never ditched it was anyone’s guess.
Julie knocked on the door. “Hi, Mum. It’s only me.” The aroma of home baking greeted her as she stepped inside.
Spying a Tupperware container on the kitchen table, she crossed the kitchen and peeled back the lid.
Anzac biscuits. Yum.
She licked her lips, practically able to taste the mouth-watering combination of coconut, golden syrup, and oats.
“Get outta there.” The voice came from nowhere, startling Julie.
“You scared the shit out of me.” She clutched her chest.
Her mum narrowed her eyes making Julie feel like she’d been caught stealing. She held up her hands. “I didn’t take one.”
“Good, they’re for the bus trip.” Her mum picked up a small container from beside the telephone. “This one’s for you and Yvonne.”
The sparkle in her mum’s eyes warmed Julie from the inside out. She wanted to tell her mum how happy she was to see her bouncing back to life, but she didn’t want to embarrass her by making a big deal about it either.
“Let’s go.” Her mother ushered her out of the house.
As they pulled up at the bus depot, her mum shot her a quizzical look that put Julie on high alert.
“Tell me, what are all those rainbow people called?”
Amused, Julie humoured her. “What do you mean?”
“Well, back in my day, there were gays and lesbians. Now you folks have all those fancy letters for yourself.”
“No, Ma. I’m just a lesbian.”
“Not you.” She waved her hand dismissively. “All those other letters. The other day a friend asked what the letter I stood for.”
“Intersex,” Julie said.
“Well of course you are, but you don’t need a letter to announce that.”
A chuckle bubbled out of Julie. “Not into sex, mum. Intersex. Think Hermaphrodite.” Of course, it wasn’t exactly the same, but it was the quickest way to explain it.
Time was ticking, people were milling around outside the bus. Most of them appeared to be around her mother’s age, seventy-seven give or take a few years.
“Anyway, why do you want to know this, and why now?”
“There are ponies at Duck Lake you know? Someone might ask about you rainbow people, and how would it look if I didn’t know what the colours stood for when I have a gay daughter?” She patted Julie’s hand, the corner of her eyes crinkling.
“Mum, you’re going on a bus trip, not to a gay convention.”
“I’ll have you know, the widow I’ve been buddied up with was married…to a woman.”
Appalled, Julie’s mouth fell open. “The coordinator told you that?” Her blood boiled. “Since when did a person’s sexuality have anything to do with a senior citizen’s day out?”
The smile on her mother’s face as good as said Gotcha.
Unable to believe she was still so gullible, Julie shook her head. “Come on, let’s go meet your buddy.”
She opened the door and rounded the car. Her mum handed her the container of Anzac biscuits. Julie tucked it under her arm and held out her hand, helping her mum climb out.
“You gonna be okay getting in and out of the bus?” Julie asked before she could stop herself.
“Of course I will. If this box of a car had stairs, you wouldn’t need to hold your mother’s hand.” She wrinkled her nose. “What’s that smell? Did you fart?”
“Geezus, Mum.” Julie looked around hoping no one heard. “I had a rural run yesterday and had to read some meters way down the back of a farm. I guess some cow dung got stuck to the mud-flaps.” She’d meant to hose down the work car before picking her mum up but ran out of time.
A gentleman crossed the road, moving toward them at a good clip. “Hello, and you would be?” He scanned the list of names on his clipboard.
Julie ran her finger down the list, stopped next to her mother’s name. “Mrs Wilson. Right there.”
“Shirley,” her mother said, taking the container out of Julie’s hands and tucking it under one arm.
“You ready?” He lifted his elbow like a wing. Her mum looped an arm through his and mouthed “I’ve still got it” as if she was going on a date.
Playing along, Julie gave her the thumbs up.
Once she arrived home, Yvonne informed her they’d been asked to Sarah and Neil’s for dinner and to watch the rugby. She wasn’t a huge fan of the game, something she was often teased about because what New Zealander didn’t love the sport? But it turned out to be a great night, and Sunday was upon them before they knew it.
Chapter 22
“Does this look all right?” Yvonne asked after changing for the third time. She looked stunning dressed in a knit top that came to mid-thigh, black leggings, and knee-high boots.
“You look gorgeous,” Julie reassured her, wishing she would relax. If Pamela didn’t like them in person, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.
Frowning, Yvonne turned sideways and appraised herself in the full-length mirror. “You don’t think it’s too tight? I look like I’ve got a Mummy-tummy, and I don’t even have any kids to blame it on."
Julie pushed off the bed. “You look healthy.” She pulled Yvonne close, loving the feel of her womanly curves. “I’d do ya.”
Air huffed out of Yvonne, warm on Julie’s neck. “You have to say that, I’m your wife.”
“You are, and Pamela’s a lucky lady if she has even half a chance with you.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Now stop fretting. She can take us as we are or not at all. If…w
e’re interested. It’s a coffee date, remember?”
“I know, I know.” Yvonne pulled out of her grip. “I just feel like my waistline’s exploded since I hit fifty. Damn hormones.”
“Hey, hormones are good!”
A shy smile curved Yvonne’s lips, but nothing more needed to be said. She’d been using an oestrogen cream twice a week to help with dryness, and it had worked wonders.
“How about me, do I pass?” Julie twirled in a circle.
She wasn’t a pretentious person, so she hadn’t gone out of her way to dress to impress. Jeans, sneakers, and a long-sleeve shirt. She rarely wore makeup but had let Yvonne apply a touch of mascara to her lashes and a barely-there coat of lip-gloss.
“I’d do ya?” Yvonne grinned.
“Touché.
***
The weather was perfect for a Sunday drive. The windy country road from Feilding to Halcombe made Julie happy she’d only had two beers the previous night. She gripped the handrail, body swinging left and right as Yvonne expertly navigated her way through a tight S-bend.
A few minutes after they drove over the bridge spanning Rangitikei river and sped past Hawkestone Golf Club, the roads flattened out. Julie finally let go of the handrail.
“I love spring,” she mused out loud.
Lush, green grass covered the countryside. Cows grazed in paddocks, and baby lambs suckled from their mothers, tails waving frantically.
“I love summer,” Yvonne replied.
“Yes, Miss Hottie. In a few months, your favourite season will be upon us.”
“Just in time for Christmas.” She shot Julie a sideways glance. “I used to love hanging out with my cousins on Christmas day. Mum and Aunty Barb would pull their hair out trying to get us kids to come inside to eat. I remember the year Nathan and I got a swingball set. We spent hours outside hitting that damn ball attached to a rope.”
“Great game. What about leapfrog, and hanging off the clothesline?” Julie laughed at the memory before a pang of melancholy hit her. “Those were the days.”
“They were.” Yvonne sighed. “But hey, times change and we have to keep up with them.”
“We do or we’ll end up sounding like our parents.”
