by A. K. Rose
So, she did the only thing she knew she could do. She placed a hand behind Lana’s head, spiky brown hair now flat in the aftermath of a long night, and pulled until their lips were connected again and she could taste the hint of a beer leftover from earlier in the evening. Before long, Lana broke the kiss and moved on, transitioning into many little kisses, the wet of her lips leaving a path down Jess’s breastbone until she felt teeth on a nipple, a hand on the other one, fingers squeezing just enough so she could feel it. It was sensory overload but she didn’t want it to stop. She released a throaty groan in response and Lana pinched and sucked and generally spiked her core temperature even more. When she didn’t think she could stand it anymore, her pulse pounding throughout her entire body, the kisses started to move down, down, down, until Lana reached where she really wanted to be. She grabbed a pillow and coaxed it under Jessica’s backside, giving better access and improving the angle.
Faced with someone new in her most intimate area, Jess tensed slightly before completely relaxing as hands massaged her inner thighs, and as warm breath eased over her bare skin. Her worries went out the window as a finger drew a line the length of her leg, from her knee to her groin and then back down the other side. She was into it, there was no denying it. Before she had time to think any further, Lana’s tongue was lapping ever-so-lightly on her clit—the woman didn’t waste time.
“God, you feel amazing . . .” she managed, and just then a finger slid effortlessly inside her. She was more than ready, more than willing, dripping with anticipation. A second digit joined and Jess was gone, her mind shut off and her body being played expertly like notes on a sheet of music, the rhythm of Lana’s attention naturally matching her body’s internal metronome. Somehow they were completely in sync and she hadn’t uttered another word.
Lana had hands in her hair, tugging, guiding her as she tasted and teased, as she lost herself in loving the woman in her bed. She knew Jess was enjoying the attention; she’d gone completely silent aside from heavy breathing and the release of throaty moans that were getting closer and closer together. Her fingers curled enough to reach the spongy area she knew would push Jess over the edge, the pressure from her tongue becoming more and more intense as she worked—it wouldn’t be long now.
When she regained her composure—when her breath slowed and her heart rate came back under control—Jessica sat up and looked straight in Lana’s eyes with an adoration she hadn’t felt before.
“That was . . . amazing. I’ve never . . . I’ve never come so intensely in my life. How did you . . . ?” Jess was lost in the afterglow. She’d completely forgotten her earlier nervousness, her obsession with grooming and minutia and the unknown of being with a woman. “Is it always like that . . . with a woman?”
“How did I what?” Lana started before it hit her. “Wait, have you never? Was this your first time with a woman?”
“Well . . . I’ve had sex, yeah, of course. But not with a woman, no . . . I’m having an . . . awakening,” Jess managed awkwardly. Cassie had told her to have this conversation before, but it didn’t come up. They’d talked that night about their lives and interests and dreams, but not about their sexual histories. In hindsight, that would’ve been a good idea. Hindsight wasn’t helpful now.
“Wow, I . . .” Lana said, scooting herself up on the bed so they were now side-by-side, her hand running through a mussed head of hair. “I had no idea. You were so confident when we met, the way you asked me out. I just assumed . . .”
“I know, I was, wasn’t I? There’s just something about you that interested me. I’d already been having these thoughts—that I wanted to be with a woman—so it’s not like I just turned right then. It’s just, I’d been checking you out . . . I might have a tiny thing for musicians . . . and then when you came over and talked to me and Steve, well, there was this electric spark in your touch. You know, when you tapped my shoulder? It sent this jolt throughout my whole body.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I felt it, and that’s why I hung around chatting you up for so long. I wasn’t really taking a poll about what songs to play that night. I thought you were pretty so I came to say hello. I just masked it in band stuff.”
“So this was meant to be, I guess.”
“It was,” Lana agreed. “But, I had no idea, I mean . . . this is kind of a big deal for you. How do you feel?”
“I feel incredible. You are an amazing woman and you know what you’re doing, you know? It’s not the time to mention it, but I haven’t met a man yet that can do . . . that . . . that can find just the right spot, that understands how a woman wants to be touched.”
“It’s because most men just don’t get it.”
“They don’t, huh?”
“No, not at all.”
“Have you been with men?” Jessica asked. While they were getting it out on the table, they may as well get it all out.
“I have. A couple times. It wasn’t for me.”
“How did you know? When did you know?”
“I’ve known for a long time . . . since I was probably seventeen. But when was I absolutely sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I tried both. I was with a guy in college and I just never was all that into it with him. He was a great guy, I really liked him, so it’s not like I ruled out all men because of some jerk. I just . . . he didn’t turn me on. Men don’t, in general. The thought just doesn’t appeal to me. So tell me,” Lana paused, pulling a crumpled white sheet over her, suddenly feeling very naked and vulnerable, “why me, why now?”
Silence.
Then, a long sigh.
Then, “Well, my best friend . . .”
“Crap.”
Lana should’ve known better. She had a policy about being the straight girl’s experiment, and now, in her bed, she had a straight girl in love with her best friend. Get out now, she told herself in warning.
“No, it’s not what you think . . .” Jess offered.
“Okay, tell me what it is.”
“Alright, it might be a little what you think. Cassie’s gay. I didn’t know it until she told me a while back she was in love with me, which totally blew my mind, but we worked through it. She met someone, they’re happy. But I started having these feelings for her that were new, that I couldn’t explain.”
“Power of suggestion?” Lana ventured.
“I don’t know, maybe. But she opened my eyes that I might be missing something. It’s like I woke up one day and the haze over my life had lifted. The sky was blue and the birds were singing and I felt . . . good.”
“So then, what are we doing, here?” Lana pointed to Jess and back to herself, aware of the precarious position she was in, literally and figuratively. She really liked Jess and she wanted to get to know her more. She shouldn’t have rushed them to bed so fast—that never ended well, and she knew it. They’d been overcome with pure physical desire and she’d cast aside her better judgment. “What do you want to do?”
“I want . . .” Jess said softly, raising both her eyebrows and flashing a sinister grin, “to repay the favor. If you’ll let me?”
Her mind said a firm “no,” but her body screamed “oh, hell yes.” The angel on her shoulder and the devil in her crotch dueled briefly, but there was no real choice, and she knew it. She’d pay the price later; it was all but certain. Willpower with pretty girls had never been her forte in the past, and it wasn’t going to be now. With a smile and a wink, she lifted the sheets and watched as a head full of wavy red hair landed on her chest. Why did bad ideas always feel so good?
SIX
“The end of the holidays are so depressing,” Cassie thought aloud. She was pulling down ornaments from their increasingly crispy Christmas tree—its needles dropping to the floor like a sharp evergreen rain, the irony of the word “evergreen” hitting her—the needles were anything but green by now. Cassie handed the ornaments to Rachel one by one, and she dutifully placed them
back in boxes, getting ready to send them back into the attic for another eleven months, until they’d be pulled back out again, the process repeated. “This is kinda pointless, isn’t it?” she asked louder, the tone in her voice exposing slight irritation.
“What do you mean? Pointless?”
“Christmas decorations. It’s this whole rigmarole, bring them out, dust them off, set them up for a month, pull them down, dust them off, put them away for eleven months. It just seems so . . . pointless.”
“Wow, okay, Scrooge. I’ve never looked at it that way. What got into you? Why the holiday hate all of a sudden?” Rachel was examining the angel from the top of the tree, looking into clear blue eyes that were almost too lifelike, the porcelain of her painted-on skin impossibly flawless.
“I don’t know. I was just thinking how it’s kind of a grind, the holidays, I mean.”
“I don’t think that at all,” Rachel started, confused at Cassie’s perspective. “Think about the best memories in your life. How many of them fall in the holidays? How many of them somehow involve being around Christmas decorations? Not that the decorations have anything to do with it, but the people you were with, the food, the storytelling. Hanging out with your sister? Waiting for Santa? Come on, I know you’re not a heartless Grinch. You must get this, right? I mean, for God’s sake, we just got engaged on Christmas. Tell me you won’t remember everything about that every year when the holidays roll around?”
Rachel had a point and Cassie knew it. She was grumpy, and she couldn’t quite explain why. She should be so excited. She’d found the one person that made her feel complete, they were in love, they were getting married. She had a job with the state and a promising blog blooming. Life should feel really good, and yet, there was something nagging at her, something dragging her mood down just a notch.
Her to-do list suddenly felt so long, as if she would be crushed from the weight of reality that waited just two days later. It was New Year’s Eve. In two days, she’d be back at work. She’d have to juggle physical therapy for her leg, writing her blog, and she was planning on going to Houston in three weeks to see her mother and sister. When she’d called to tell them the big news, she promised she’d come visit soon. Visits home were still stressful, even though her mom had made leaps and bounds in her improving mindset about her different daughter.
“Cass? Hon? Where did you go?” Rachel questioned, filling the dead space in the air that had appeared as a result of her earlier question. She smiled knowingly as Cassie handed her another gold ball ornament from the tree.
“Oh, sorry . . . I just, I was thinking about that day . . . when we got engaged. You’re completely right. I will never forget it, and the holidays are a part of it. And then I started thinking about being a kid, waiting for Santa with Claire, the excitement that came with the unknown, shuffling up and down the hall peeking around the corner to see if the cookies and milk we’d left were gone. You’re so right. There is a point, isn’t there? . . . I guess I’m just sad it’s almost over. It’s such a letdown, and I have to go back to work in a few days. I was so resistant to the time off initially and now . . .”
“You like your life of leisure, don’t you?”
Cassie sighed. “Yeah, I do. Don’t get me wrong, I would definitely choose not to get hit by a truck, if I could do it all over again. But, this past month has been amazing in terms of learning about myself and finding compassion for other people. I’m really into writing the blog right now; it just flows out of me. I love my job, most days—I do something important, those families need help getting child support—but there’s something special about . . .”
“. . . doing your own thing?” Rachel interjected, understanding where this was going.
“Exactly. I’ve always done what’s safe. I’ve always followed the rules.”
“Is that why you stayed in the closet so long?
Cassie paused, the last of the ornaments now safely removed from the tree that would be kindling in a matter of days, and hobbled her way to the couch. She’d spent so much of the last month on this couch, staring at the old oak tree that presided over the backyard and thinking. “Probably. My dad was a banker, you know that. And with Mom being a teacher, we were raised to be safe. We were taught practicality and stability and saving our money. We were taught to conform to what the world expects. I hid my true self until we met in a lot of ways, not just being in the closet.”
“Aren’t you done hiding now? Do you still want to conform to what the world expects?” Rachel asked as she slumped into the couch and took Cassie’s hand. She knew very well the best way to still those nervous hands was to hold on to them tightly. “You don’t have to be anything you don’t want to be any more, babe. What do you want to do?
“I want to kiss you,” she said, leaning in slightly to brush a stray strand of hair out of her lover’s eyes, before placing a soft kiss on her lips, those perfect dentist’s teeth hiding just behind. It was a comfortable kiss, but the touch of Rachel’s lips on her own was still enough to make her heart race.
“And . . . after this?” Rach managed, her fingers now extricated from Cassie’s and completely swallowed by blonde hair.
“I don’t know. I have to go back to work. I want to get this leg back in shape. I want to work on my blog and keep building the audience, to make a difference for accident victims. I want to plan our wedding with you. I want to spend time together, just us. All of a sudden time seems like a precious commodity I don’t really have.”
Rachel listened intently as Cassie let loose the tangle of thoughts that had been building in her head.
“Mmm-hmmm. You know, I noticed something when you were telling me this. Did you?”
“I sound privileged and whiney?”
“No, not at all. You started every sentence with “’I want to,’ except one.”
“Really?” Cassie couldn’t remember what she’d just said. She’d opened her mouth and out came her thoughts in no particular order, as per typical.
“You said you have to go back to work. But everything else was a want.”
“Well, it’s true. I have to go back to work!”
“Do you?” Rachel asked, shrugging her shoulders, caramel-colored hair resting gently on their tops. It was a fair question.
“Yeah, of course. I have a job to do; I’m good at it. I still have student loans from law school, and they’re not going to just go away because I don’t want to go back to work. Besides, I need to get out of the house, to be with people. I might become a hermit if I just stay here and write a blog. I’ll be J.D. Salinger in no time.”
“Somehow I doubt you’ll be J.D. Salinger. For one, you’d better intend on only having one wife. But really, you’re that passionate about the blog? If you are, you should focus on it. Work can wait.”
Though the Christmas tree was dismantled, the family room where they sat still smelled of pine sap, its distinct aroma would linger for days after the tree was discarded. Cassie looked dead ahead, as she’d done many times over the past month, and studied that live oak, its comforts never failing to soothe her. Thoughts filled her head faster than she could dismiss them. Faster than her inner voice could judge her for taking a risk. Faster than her mother’s predictable opinion could overrule her. What if she didn’t go back to work? What if she put her whole self into building the blog and creating a resource for victims, maybe turning it into a non-profit?
“Maybe you’re right. What if I take a chance in my life for a change? I’ll think about it, okay? I have to be back at work on Monday. Let’s just go to this party tonight, ring in the New Year, have one last hurrah, and then I’ll think about it. It’s not like I’m building a retirement fortune working for the state, huh?”
“If you were, you’d be the first state employee in history to do so. You know we talked about moving to the country, getting that land. Maybe we move up that timeline a bit, maybe we cash out on this house and get our life together off to the right start. It’s somethin
g to think about anyway, right?”
“I love you,” Cassie said, a look of adoration in her dark brown eyes. No one had ever encouraged her to follow her dreams—to do what she wanted—and now, as natural as could be, without an ounce of hesitation, Rachel had encouraged her to do just that.
“I love you, too,” Rach offered, leaning in closer, kissing Cassie with a tenderness that soon turned passionate. “Hey, we have a couple hours until this party tonight . . . you want to go have some fireworks of our own first? Ring in the New Year in style?”
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Cassie grinned, and was hobbling her way toward the bedroom in record time. She may have been recovering from a broken leg, but she could still move with the best of them when it mattered.
SEVEN
What do you do when you don’t know what to do?
That was all she wrote, her New Year’s journaling project off to a lackluster start. She twirled her pen in her fingers, the paper of a fresh new notebook white as snow and begging for more. More words, more thoughts, more insights into the suddenly complicated life of its owner. It had been a mere twelve hours since she’d spent the night with Lana, and with that little tryst, Jessica’s world was effectively turned upside down.
It was her thirty-first birthday, and she was having a serious identity crisis alone at home, not sure exactly where to turn. She now understood the pain and confusion that Cassie must have lived with her whole life. She also now understood a term she’d never given a second thought before: heterosexual privilege. She saw her life through the lens of the outside looking in: what people would think, what the law allowed, what society expected. If you’d asked her six months ago if she’d celebrate her birthday and ring in the New Year by having a fling with a woman, she’d have laughed at you. Now, in the moment, it was no laughing matter.
Was it a fling? It didn’t feel that way.
