As I look back on it now, I wonder if it was fate or maybe I am just lucky. This is a story of my first sexual encounter as a lesbian. It is a night that will forever be burned into my memory, but enough of the introduction, here is the story that is closest to my heart.
I was 18, and it was the party to be at. We had just got out of school for thanksgiving break.
I don't think I will ever forget that weekend I spent at Meg's. It was the beginning of summer, and I had a couple of days to kill in the city before flying back home. Meg had decided to stay and work for the duration of the summer at the museum, and so she'd rented this small one bedroom apartment downtown. It was the coziest little place you ever saw, and we both had a grand old time decorating it;
Sunday Morning in early March. I joined the regulars for coffee after a disappointing Saturday night; I hate to be part of a closing crowd, and so I'd left the Paradise Bar with fifteen minutes to go before the bitter end. It's my age, I suppose. As fine as I know myself to be at thirty-five, I just don't feel like competing at singles bars any more. So there I was, listening to the morning-after banter about the night before: Who did, who didn't, who got lucky, who got away.
My heart seems to falter when she walks in the bar. I vaguely hear my friend Samantha, who reluctantly dragged me out tonight, yell at me from a few feet away. I don't make any movement though. I am staring at what, until this moment, was only a dream. My friend finally fights her way over to me, muttering something about me being deaf and all I do is nod forward.
When I was 19 I worked four nights a week in a youth club, St. Patrick's Y. C. It was a very popular youth club which attracted children and teenagers from a wide area in the west of the city. The club itself was actually a couple of large huts; the type you might find that act as additional classrooms in some schools.
The interior of the club rooms was bright and welcoming and housed a variety of seats, tables, snooker and table tennis table.
The rippling fire from the fireplace casted a glow over the bedroom suite as Norah sat against the metal headboard with her wrists in silver handcuffs attached to the bars. She waited in trepidation for her kidnapper to make an appearance again. Her prison was a comfortable one for the room gave off a warm and cozy feel that had a wonderful view of the city she had grown up in.
Now that I am in my early thirties ...I find that I am saying things I don't believe come out of my mouth. Like the phrase, "when I was your age ...." can come out before I have a chance to stop it if I am talking to someone from toddler on up to young adult. It is at those times I almost think I sound like my grandmother. But last Saturday afternoon, I started a conversation with Kate, 18 year old girl who is wonderfully beautiful both inside and out.
The law firm of Osborn and Wilke was big. With 350 attorneys, it ranked third in the state. So, Sarah felt proud to be a new associate...and intimidated. Never the most secure person to begin with, she tried to convince herself she belonged.
She knew there were many other 25-year-old attorneys ready to take her spot if she faltered. One way or another, Sarah was determined not to let that happen. But, it didn't mean she wouldn't be insecure. That was just her way.
For me, coming to terms with what I am was like being born. It was something that happened when I was naked, wet and crying.
I'm not really sure what it was that got me to realizing it. A long string of dates with 'the hot guy' that always left me feeling... well, feeling something. What I'm not sure.
It was in the less than warm afterglow of yet another of those encounters that I was dragged kicking and screaming to the new spa that opened up nearby.
My name is Jill. This story is about how my best friend Laura and I first discovered the joy that two loving females could give to each other.
All through our years at University I had initially admired Laura for her poise and strength and I had a crush on her that I would barely admit to myself, unwilling to admit that I may have lesbian tendencies. One time in our final year it came to a head.