by Eden Davis
Jasi sudsed up her new pixie cut and tried to wash thoughts of Belinda and Livia out of her head so she could concentrate on the task before her. The curtain was about to go up on her role as a committed lover to her “significant other” of 13 months, sports photographer, Todd Derrick. One-part boyfriend, three-parts beard, Todd was an interesting man—intelligent, cultured and delightfully clueless. They’d met at a Knicks game, and attracted to his Johnny Depp-like good looks and artistic mind, Jasi had gone home with him. With the help of some serious fantasizing, along with his talented tongue and half a bottle of tequila, he’d proven himself to be a sweet and adequate lover. She’d taken him to Sunday brunch with her the next morning, where he turned out to be the perfect foil, and the answer to her mother’s prayers—a potential son-in-law and father to her unborn grandbabies.
Todd and the Westfields fell in love with one another, and thanks to his crazy travel schedule, he became Jasi’s ideal boyfriend, around just enough to keep her sleight-of-hand show running, but too wrapped up in his career to realize or even care that his committed relationship with Jasi was little more than a sham. Best of friends for sure, with Todd she had the best of both worlds, the look and feel of a dutiful daughter, and the freedom to live her undercover life. For this reason alone, she had to love him.
Jasi rinsed and turned off the water with a sigh. The bottom line was that she was tired of pretending to be in love with Todd so she could continue to perpetuate the lie for her parents that she was a happily heterosexual woman. Falling for Belinda had certainly complicated things big time, but it was the fall out with Livia that worried her the most. The fact that her relationship with a dear friend was teetering on the edge of collapse was bad enough, but now someone knew her secret and, intended or not, had the power to destroy the delicate balance of her life with one whisper.
While Jasi pulled on one of her “only on Sunday” dresses, it saddened her to think that not one person whom she professed to love—not her parents, her boyfriend, lovers, or friends really knew Jasi Westfield. Hell, she was no longer sure she did. Her parents, now in their late seventies and ready to be grandparents, thought she was straight and would be announcing her engagement any day now; her lesbian lovers thought her to be a bisexual vagabond, while her career-driven boyfriend, Todd, loved her “freedom rules” attitude, and was perfectly happy with their no-strings attached relationship. Meanwhile, her platonic girlfriends knew her to be a crazy, bold, man-eating, insatiable but loveable ho whose personal mission was to stay single and fuck her way through life. Funny thing was, Jasi was none of these things, and yet if asked, she wouldn’t know exactly how to describe herself. All she could say with total honesty was that the sad phrases practiced “liar,” “lost soul,” and “emotionally exhausted” certainly applied in some form or fashion. But now, with the potential of having her secret life exposed, “deathly afraid” was applicable as well. Jas was utterly terrified of losing everything. Good, Southern Baptists, an alternate lifestyle would not be understood, let alone accepted, and it would absolutely destroy her conservative, God-fearing mother and father. Livia’s reaction to shut down and shut her out, was as disappointing as it was hurtful, and made it clear that even the best of friends could put ideology over alliance. And what about her students and their parents? What would be their reactions to their daughters spending time in the classroom with a lesbian? For some idiotic reason, teachers were expected to live the pristine lifestyles of monks and nuns to prove themselves worthy of passing on their knowledge to the children of strangers whose family lives were usually much more dysfunctional and outrageous than any teacher she knew.
Jasi reentered the bedroom and stopped to take a long look at her lover. Opening her eyes to the new day, Belinda looked sexy as fuck with her just woke up bed hair and lazy smile. Jasi leaned over to give her a loving kiss. “Good morning,” she said after their last smooch.
“Morning, Mamí. Where are you off to so early?”
Jasi smiled. She could listen to Belinda talk forever. She loved her sexy Puerto Rican accent. Fuck, she loved everything about this damn girl!
“Staten Island to see the folks. Standing Sunday date.”
“Want me to come with you?”
“Not this week, doll, but soon, okay?” Jasi promised, knowing full well it would be months and months before she’d ever introduce her to her Jasper and Harolyn Westfield. Maybe after her infatuation died down. When they couldn’t read the love and lust her eyes held each time they fell on Belinda. And after she’d found the guts to tell Belinda the truth—that she lived her life deep in the closet with the rest of the pathetic skeletons.
“Okay. I’m going back to sleep. I’m so tired. You wore me out, Mamí.”
“Stay as long as you want,” Jasi said, and leaned over again and gave her lover a long, passionate, reassuring kiss.
Belinda snuck her hand between Jasi’s legs, searching for the magic button that turned her on, and after some tender loving care, always turned her out. Belinda’s fingers slyly maneuvered around the edges of Jasi’s panties and wiggled inside her warm, moist pussy. Jas pressed her crotch against Belinda’s open palm, looking for pressure. Belinda lubed up and fingered her lover’s pearl with one hand while the other pulled Jasi’s braless tit from her bodice and latched on, bathing her already hard nipple with morning saliva.
Jasi’s moans mingled with the sunshine streaming in through the window. Sound and light danced around their heads. It took everything Jasi had to force herself to disengage from this hot and horny miracle in her life. “I thought I wore you out.”
“Second wind,” Belinda said, giving Jas a wink and a smile. “By the way, you should wear dresses more often. Easy access goes both ways, Chica.”
• • •
“Where’s that handsome fella of yours?” was the first question to leave Jasper Westfield’s mouth once Jasi crossed the threshold and he gathered her into a big, papa bear hug.
“I told you he was in South Africa covering the World Cup,” Jasi said, not mentioning what a happy coincidence his leaving town for weeks and she meeting Belinda had been.
“That young man of yours is always on the road. Well, come on in and sit. You know your mother has everything ready to go,” her father said, taking her hand and ushering her into the dining room. Just like it was every week, the table was set with the good china, crystal, and silverware. It was the traditional setting for Sunday brunch for the Westfields and their very untraditional, only child.
“Jasilyn Westfield, what have you done with your hair?” asked Harolyn, coming over to give her daughter a warm hug.
“Cut it. I was tired of the twists.”
“Well, me too, but at least you had some length. This looks like a boy’s haircut.”
“Leave her alone, Harolyn. As long as Todd likes it, that’s all that counts.”
“Where is Todd?”
“South Africa. He says hello,” Jasi replied, watching Harolyn’s smile dim. Even though her parents were thrilled to see her, it was clear that they, particularly her mother, was disappointed the Todd hadn’t accompanied her. Apparently, there’d be no engagement announcement today.
The three sat down to their weekly dinner, this week roast beef, garlic mashed potatoes and string beans, followed up by her favorite dessert, German chocolate cake. Between courses, parents and child caught up on their individual comings and goings of the past week. Jasi invited them to her school’s upcoming art show, proudly describing the work of her star students and how incredible it made her feel to see their talents progress. Harolyn filled her in on their trip to Jasper’s upcoming college reunion at Prairie View A & M, and her decision to begin a Zumba class at the local senior center. By dessert, it was clear that, for at least another week, all was well in the Westfields’ world.
Her crazy, deceitful personal life aside, Jasi felt lucky to have landed in the very loving arms of Jasper and Harolyn. Unable to conceive for years, Harolyn became pregnant
well into her late-thirties, and years after she’d given up on having a family. Forever grateful, they dedicated their lives to serving the God who had blessed them with a miracle. Labeled with the crazy blend of their names, Jasilyn Haro Westfield had been treated like the wonder child her parents believed her to be. They’d doted on Jasi her entire life, educating her at the finest private schools, encouraging her budding interest in art through classes, study abroad programs and tuition to the prestigious Rhode Island School of Design. When Jasi burst her mother’s dream of having a daughter who was also a world-famous artist, Harolyn had managed to rally her emotions and support Jasi’s decision to teach art to middle school students at the esteemed Flint Place Girl’s Academy. With every life plan Jasi came up with (and discarded), they’d found a way to encourage and cheer her on, making it clear that the only thing they expected in return was for her to stay close to them and God, and eventually have a family of her own for them to love and nurture until their deaths did they part. Jasi felt like a failure on every count that mattered.
“So, Jasilyn, when exactly will Todd be returning from his trip?” her mother asked over coffee.
Jasi cringed at the mention of his name because it meant only one thing, the personal inquisition was about to begin.
“Not for another week or two,” she said, feeling the jump in her gut. Once Todd returned the juggling of him and Belinda would begin.
“Will he be around for your birthday?” Harolyn asked. “It is the big four O.”
“I don’t know, Mom. That’s like another eight months from now.”
“I realize, but this is a big year for you, both of you. It’s getting time to make some serious decisions. You understand how hard it was for me; you need to get started sooner rather than later.”
“Mom, not the ‘when are you getting married and giving me some grandbabies’ conversation again,” Jasi whined.
“Your mother is merely trying to make the point that women can’t wait as long as men can when it comes to having families. Todd can’t keep dragging his feet about this. You don’t want to wake up and discover it’s too late, baby girl. Your mother and I were truly blessed that it happened to us,” her father said, offering his soft but precise summation.
“I understand and we have been talking about it,” Jasi lied. “But honestly, I’m not sure that a marriage is in our future,” she said, planting the demon seed without looking her mother in the eye.
Harolyn gasped for air like she’d been sucker-punched.
It killed Jasi that she was unable to live up to her parents’ expectations in this one, totally reasonable area. Every Sunday without an announcement was another hairline fracture in her mother’s heart. Her parents were correct, time was running out. And the telling tick of her biological clock was being drowned out by the very loud, psychological sobs of Harolyn’s profound disappointment.
“I’m beginning to believe that Todd isn’t really interested in settling down,” she explained, quickly spinning the facts into a sorted fabrication of the truth. “His work is so important to him and he’s always traveling. I’m only saying that it might be time to face the fact that Todd might not be the one for me.”
“It’s been a year. You’re only now discovering this?” The words “at this late date,” though unspoken, came through loud and clear in her mother’s question.
Jasi chose to reply with a simple shrug of her shoulders.
“What about a family?”
“I don’t know right now. I still have some time, and if it comes down to it, maybe I’ll have one on my own,” Jasi said, testing another pool of tepid water.
The shock on her parents’ faces immediately let her know that Plan B was a bust right from the start. “By yourself? Without a husband?” her father said, looking for clarification.
Jasi nodded, unable to verbalize the word that would only make the cracks deeper.
“But having a child out of wedlock is a sin, Jasilyn. I won’t let you bring a bastard child into this world,” Harolyn informed her. “It’s not fair and it’s not right. I don’t want to hear another thing about this. You and Todd will find a way to work this out,” she said, falling back on her faith in all things righteous, whether they were realistic or not.
Jasi didn’t know what made her want to cry more, the fact that giving her parents the one thing they wanted most was looking further and further beyond her reach, or the fact that if they couldn’t or wouldn’t even consider the idea of her having a baby on her own, what would they think if they learned that instead of a husband she was coveting a wife?
A Real Pick Me Up
Livia stepped onto the beach, wearing a sarong over her new bikini, and immediately felt grossly overdressed. Saline Beach was liberally dotted with the tanned hides of the island’s naked sun worshipers. It was interesting to note that the gorgeous, bronzed bodies she’d been expecting to see were few and far between. Liv let out a big sigh of relief. The good news was if she was going to get naked, she didn’t need to be worried about being the only tonally challenged body swimming in a sea of perfect physiques. This was going to be more like Arielle bobbing around in an ocean of inner tubes. There were more forty ounces than six packs, more saggy tits than grand tetons, and more doughy buns than those of steel walking around not giving a damn about their form or being fit.
If they don’t care, neither do I, Livia decided.
Ultimately, it really didn’t matter because she was taking this whole journey one step at a time. Right now, all she was concerned about was finding some isolated spot to disrobe, catch some rays, cross another item off her list, and head back to fully clothed civilization. Livi was there to see, not be seen. But now, based on the jiggles, wiggles, sags and bags kicking up the clean, white sand, she wasn’t even going to be doing much sightseeing either.
Feeling a bit braver about the whole nudie cutie (to coin Lena’s term) thing, Livia headed over to the beach hut to rent a lounger, and then led the handsome islander carrying her rentals over to a quiet patch of sand, not far from the water (in case she wanted to make a mad dash to take a cooling dip), but away from any fellow beach dwellers. Despite her vow to get butt naked in public, this was a personal exercise in private scandal. Livia wasn’t ready to be any kind of exhibitionist.
She spread her towel on the chaise, sat down and began removing the necessary beach essentials from her bag. She pushed sunglasses into her curls and began to apply oil on all of her exposed skin, while mentally preparing herself for the unveiling. Liv was still debating between the slow ease versus quick rip technique. Not wanting to look like what she was feeling—a total punk—she decided to go for it. Thirty seconds later, Livia Charles was nude and lying on her stomach with her ass in the air.
She closed her eyes and released a relaxing breath as the slight ocean breeze whispered sweet nothings across her backside. Livia smiled into her towel and congratulated herself for having the guts to go through with this. She’d always shied away from anything new or remotely scandalous. Little about her or her life reeked of true adventure or spontaneity. Thinking about it, Livia realized that only thrice had she voluntarily taken major, life-altering chances—marrying, and then filing for divorce, and starting Havin’ Your Cake. She was surprised how liberating this relatively minor show of boldness made her feel. The girls had been right; taking a few daring risks here and there did make Livia feel more vibrant and alive. She had to wonder, if four minutes of public nudity could make her feel this way, what was the rest of the week going to bring?
Lena’s suggestion to come to St. Bart’s had been spot on. It was everything she’d described and more. At that moment, Livia wished Aleesa and Lena were there with her. It would have been nice if they’d made a girl’s trip out of this, adding more shared memories to their sisterfriend journey together. But she understood their point. Some things one really needed to do on one’s own, and if Lena and Aleesa had accompanied her, even this simple trip to the beach would have take
n on an entirely different vibe. With familiar eyes watching and assuming, Livia didn’t know how free she’d feel about doing just about anything—from wearing her new wardrobe to satisfying the deep-rooted wanderlust that seemed to be bubbling to the surface. They were right to realize that she needed some alone time to reflect and reinvent herself for this next chapter of her life.
Livia would be fifty in less than four months and as Jasi so succinctly paraphrased, “if not now, then fucking when?” Yes, Quincy and the fuck-it list might have brought her to this place, but her newly unearthed desire to find herself was keeping her here.
The sun was bearing down on her behind, but Livia wasn’t quite comfortable with the idea of being sunny side up. Lying out on her back would leave her feeling open and vulnerable, two things, truth be told, she’d spent most of her days consciously avoiding. Liv had to giggle. Here she was hiding her perfect new bosom while exposing her raggedy old behind. She sighed—a typical move in Livi World.
Feeling ever so emboldened, Livia decided to flip over and change vistas. Immediately she received a valuable lesson about missing things in life by operating out of fear. Yes, she was sitting totally exposed, but the beauty of what lay ahead of her was absolutely breathtaking. Before her was a huge and spectacular cove, unmarred by hotels and villas. The beach was sandwiched between green bluffs that sloped gracefully into the calm, pool-blue waters. Out in the distance, she could see dots of white as sailboats made their way across the horizon. The sky, with its various shades of blue, tinged with white clouds, mimicked the beauty of the sea and the wavelets below. The instruction was not lost on Livia. Paradise was stretched out before her, and had she not been bold enough to open up and expose herself (pardon the pun), she’d have spent the day staring at sand.
