I couldn't keep my eyes off of the elegant older woman sitting in the top row of the bleachers at the matinee of the ritzy horse fair.
I also couldn't help but notice that she was making a less than subtle production out of lowering her designer sunglasses and looking me up and down, smiling in a cat-that-wants-to-swallow-the-canary way. Younger women, or at least women who were my age, didn't begin to know how to smile like that.
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.
'Honey, get up!' Leah repeated as she struggled to wake her lover. Hayley was an adorable little thing, much more so when she was cocooned in their bed covers. But this wasn't the time to be admiring little nymphs! Leah scrambled to the window yet again. Hayley's parents were getting out of their car. Shit!
I can't say that I hadn't thought about it before (like all the time since I was about thirteen), but my actual first exposure to lesbian sex was straight out of a porn story. At 18 I was one of those annoying kids in high school who are into everything: student council, running track, in all the plays, on the newspaper staff, you know the type.