She walked in and my world stopped. I stared like a hormonal teenager, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, she wasn’t the fittest, nor was she particularly well dressed. I can’t pin down what it was that captured me, but I was hooked.
Part of it was her walk! She strode with a confidence I had never seen in anyone. Not an arrogant walk, but a walk that said, ‘Here I am, regardless of what you think.’ There were no apologies in her movements, but no brashness either. Since I always feel like my walk looked like a newborn horse trying to rise up on her spindly legs, I have always been attracted to people who moved well. I do just fine dancing, and I run like a true racehorse, but my walk will always be gawky in my own eyes. Her walk was magnificent!
She was with several people, but they faded into the background. She was the center attraction without anyone really seeming to defer to her. They headed toward the back and got on the nearest pool table. There were five of them with her, two guys and three girls. They were obvious friends and regulars with the bar. I didn’t see anyone order, but the waitress brought over drinks, including a light-red wine for Her.
Her smile was infectious, even from across the room I found myself smiling because of something someone said to her. I couldn’t hear it, but when she smiled, it warmed me. There was a touch of mischievousness in that smile, and the angle she held her head told me she was capable of anything. She started telling her own story that had her friends and a few nearby people laughing. Good, a sense of humor!
Her hair was a non-descript color, some brown, some auburn; a slightly lighter streak down one side told me that she probably didn’t color it. No phoniness about her appearance, it showed her confidence as much as her walk did. Her hair was simply brushed back, with enough of something to hold it, probably a spray rather than something heavier. For some reason it hung a bit heavier on one side of her face, but it swung nicely to her movements.
Her face was striking, large dark eyes, full eyebrows, not those tweezed to death things to many girls still do to themselves. Light make-up, a touch of a lip color, and hardly any eye make-up, but with her eyes she didn’t need any. She was slightly olive-skinned, or so the lighting in the bar made her look. I guess her heritage might be Latin or Greek, but there was more than that in her background. She had a face that was heart-shaped, very Asian, but those eyes were Slavic, or my own heritage would disown me. Large, round, dark eyes; I wonder if she could see in the dark?
She wasn’t very tall, about 5’5 or so; she was in tennis shoes with no socks. Her jeans were tight, not painted on, but a nice fit showing a nice figure–a very nice figure. Generous hips, slim waist, and full breasts; the body of someone used to physical work, but not the hard lines of an athlete or addicted gym nut. She was wearing a skin-tight top, with an open shirt–a men’s denim shirt, over it. It would billow open showing her curves without making them look like they were on display. No sign of a wedding ring, but that didn’t mean too much nowadays. I wonder if she was connected to one of the guys in her group. No, there was no one in particular, but one of the girls was hanging a little possessively, but She didn’t seem to reciprocate.
She started playing pool and when she leaned over the edge of the table, the view was breathtaking. I saw a couple of guys enjoying the view in a much more obvious manner. I was at least far enough away to not be obtrusive about my interest. Her focus for the game was pretty intense, but only during her shot. In between shots she was lively and talkative. It was weird watching her. I don’t know which view I preferred more; when she was across the table from me I could see her face and that look of total concentration was fascinating. But when she was on the near side of the table I was blessed with a remarkable view of her bottom stretching that denim fabric in all the best places. From the side her shirt hung down denying me a view of her heavy breasts, but the line of her back, ass, and leg was a great substitute.
She played well, which drew more attention. Several people lined up to take the table away, but her determination kept her winning. No betting, which I liked, although I saw several side-bets between other people.
I also noticed that she didn’t drink much, another thing I liked; she was drinking just enough to stay sociable. The waitress brought her another, but when the waitress indicated who had bought it, she declined, politely. I wonder who . . oh I see, one of the guys admiring her ass bought her the drink and she turned itdown.
As the waitress left, the guy stood a little bit belligerently. Even I could see trouble from my seat. I debated about helping her; but something told me she would be just fine. The belligerent asshole moved to the pool table. He got behind her, for a second I thought he might try something physical, but he said something I couldn’t hear. The people around the table reacted–but not her–she continued her shot.
The asshole wasn’t very patient, as she pulled back her stick and he touched it—knocking it to one side. Her control was remarkable; she held up her shot and slowly stood up. Then she turned and caught fire! That is the only way to describe it. When she last faced this way she was the picture of niceness, fun, and jokes. When she turned to look at him she was an elemental of fire, her gaze could have burned through steel and when she aimed it at him I am surprised he didn’t expire on the spot. He quailed as he tried to meet her eyes, failing like a cowed dog. She looked like the most dangerous person in the world. Her gaze smoked the very air for just one more second, then it passed and she bent back over the table to shoot while the troublemaker slunk off away, no longer worthy of her interest.
Like nothing had happened, she made her shot and the game continued. I turned my back on her for the first time all evening and sipped my Irish while I thought about her. She is amazing! Strong, but not overwhelming! Supremely confident in herself, but not arrogant! Beautiful in a real way, not artificial! I could see her on a horse, probably an Appaloosa, because spotted would be her speed! I turned back and saw two other people playing pool; the inconceivable happened while my back was turned, she lost.
I looked for her, but didn’t see her. Her friends were still there; maybe she was in the loo? A low husky voice spoke from over my right shoulder, “I didn’t!”
I turned, it was her, I looked at her in surprise!
“I didn’t lose. I wanted a break from playing.” She sat at the stool next to me. Her shirt billowed open. I tried to stop myself, but my gaze traveled down from her face to her waist and back up to her eyes.
I expected her to be annoyed at my not-so-obvious look, but she was smiling.
“So you read minds?” My first words made sense in my head, but when they came out they sounded a little flat, so much for showing off my sense of humor.
She looked at me, apparently reappraising me. “No mind-reading involved, you spent all night staring at me and then when you turned back to the table you reacted when you saw I was missing. Are you always so transparent?”
“Not that I know of, but you certainly caught me off-guard.”
“When I snuck up on you?” Her weight came off the stool; she was an instant away from leaving.
“Nope, when you walked in!”
She settled back down on the stool. I felt like I passed some sort of test.
“Touché! There is more to you than meets the eye. Why the stare job? You shook up a couple of my friends.”
“Sorry about the staring, I knew I was doing it, but I couldn’t help it.”
Yea, why not! I thought to myself. “Because, at the time, it seemed like the only thing to do.”
She laughed. Whew, she laughed. Why does that make me feel so good?
“So now what do we do?”
“Lady, I am clueless, this is new territory for me.”
“You never picked up someone in a bar before?”
“Lots of times, but never a girl?”
“Oh shit, you’re straight?”
“I fucking was, right up until you walked in.”
“Hell, from your stare I figured you for a lez who was hoping I was.” She looked at me. ” OK, but if you are tugging my chain, I am going to kick your ass.”
“I only yank chains when it’s required, but in truth I am so straight, the idea of having sex with a girl always turned my stomach.”
“You really aren’t shitting me are you?”
“This is so weird! All right Straight, I am going to take you at face value. My name is Myn, and you are?”
“Sally.” I stuck my hand out and she took it. I was touching her. She held my hand and I could feel the heat from her skin. And I got turned on! This was nuts, she takes my hand and I am all excited? What was wrong with me, I was trembling!
“Well, Straight Sally, we need to get out of here.”
“Wha . . .?” She lost me briefly.
“You are wound up so tight, you might burst on me.” She was smiling. “Denny?” The bartender appeared. “A bottle of your Irish to go.”
“Myn, you know I can’t do that. You gotta hit a store.”
“Denny, a bottle of Irish, charge me by the shot if you have to.” Her tone firm, my heart skipped a beat.
“OK, but I’ll meet you outside with it. This crowd isn’t going to see me sell you a whole bottle. They’ll all start bugging me.”
“‘K, Den, thanks.”
She took my hand and we headed for the door. She looked over by the pool table and her friends were watching, suddenly I blushed. They all knew what was going on, even if I wasn’t totally sure.
Two of her girlfriends looked all happy, the other glared daggers at me. The guys were watching, but with little or no expression.
Myn put her arm around my waist and guided me to her car. A small sports car, for some reason I was expecting a pick-up. I have to do something about my expectations; I had a feeling she was going to trash any of them anyway.
We stood by her car and waited for Denny. She stood close to me, not in a proprietary way, but more like making sure I was aware of her. I couldn’t have been less aware of her if she was on the other side of the planet. I closed my eyes and inhaled, the fresh air after the smoky bar was a relief. The air had a taste of strawberries, her perfume? She was looking at me, just looking. I hoped she liked what she saw. I am tall, thin as a rail, black hair, and pale skin. I am not beautiful in any way, no matter what some guys tell me when they want me. I am an athlete, a runner, which is unusual for my height, but there is something about running that just works for me.
She was looking at me, appraising me, but it wasn’t like all my boyfriends used to do. She was just taking me all in, but there wasn’t a single judgment on her face; it was like she was looking at me for the first time. I couldn’t tell if she liked what she saw, but I liked the fact that she wasn’t so easy to read.
Denny arrived with a bottle in a brown paper sack. I had to laugh, it was wrapped tight, which told the world it was a bottle–so much for being discreet.
She paid, pretty expensive by the shot, but I guess she didn’t drink Irish whiskey, so she wasn’t perfect. How did she know I was drinking Irish? They all look alike in the glass. I was feeling nervous. What the hell was I doing? Going off with a perfect stranger, OK, so she was only nearly perfect. Goodness knows she was so sexy . . . I gotta stop this line of thinking; this is what got me in trouble the last time I left a bar with a stranger. That certainly turned out bad.
She opened the door for me and without a thought to my own car–I slid in. Her car fit so tight, like a leather glove. Surprisingly, there was enough legroom, one reason I usually avoid sporty models. I felt so low to the ground in her car, like I was sitting in a chaise lounge chair. The engine roared to life, rumbling with leashed power. When she slipped the leash, we took off in a spray of stones. Usually macho starts like that turns me off, but it seemed part of her personality, or else I was making excuses because of how she affected me.
She drove with skill and the same focus I saw on the pool table. I shifted and turned a little to watch her. Her eyes watched the road, but she knew I was looking. I started wondering at just what I had gotten myself into. Second thoughts, no, more like first ones! Her hands confidently turned the wheel as we moved in and out of evening traffic. She was probably speeding, but I couldn’t see the speedometer to see. It didn’t matter, I felt safe.
How the hell did I feel safe? This is nuts. I was with a stranger, speeding in a little tiny sports car, going to someplace I don’t know. Is it the fact she was another woman that made me feel safe? I know right now if she was a guy I would be nervous as all get-out. I never go off like this without knowing a person first, well not since that one time. Where the hell were my ‘single-woman-paranoid-tendencies’ now?
I must have tensed up. “Relax! I don’t bite, unless you want me to.”
I know damn well she wasn’t looking at me, I guess she was as aware of me as I was of her. I closed my eyes to get my head together and I swear I could still see her. We stopped for a light, one of the few she got caught at. This time–she turned those dark eyes to me. “Like what you see?”
Swallowing a smartass retort. “Jury is still out, but the jury foreman is hammering at my forebrain to get my attention.”
Laughing, she smiles and the atmosphere in that little car cleared up.
“Look, we are going to my place to have a quiet drink or two and talk. The bar was to crazy!”
“Agreed! I can barely hear myself think in there.”
“To set your mind at ease, I am not looking for a bed partner. It’s easy, as I am sure you know, to find a sheet-warmer. The hard part is finding someone worthwhile.”
I was vaguely disappointed that she wasn . . . shit, loose that preconception. At this time a guy would be planning how to make damn sure you would end up in bed. Wish I could just re-set to brain for a while.
With that out in the open, we pull up to a nice apartment building, an old building, with 4 floors, extremely well maintained. Myn introduced me to two sweet ladies who were just leaving, quite a bit older than Myn and I. They kissed her cheek; obviously they liked her, good references!
We went in and ran up the stairs. She lived on the top floor, for some reason that didn’t surprise me. Neither of us were out of breath, but we were giggling as we raced up and around each landing. I would have beaten her, if my hand hadn’t slipped on the last turn. She grabbed the rail post and made a tighter turn. It felt silly, but it was good to see the playful side of her.
Her apartment was totally out of character, or maybe totally within character since she seemed to blaze her own path. It was an old fashioned apartment full of antiques, beautiful paintings, thick carpets, wall coverings made of weaves and laces. My grandmother would have loved it! It immediately took me to places in my memories that I don’t visit nearly often enough. Myn sat me down in an overstuffed couch, while she tended bar from a small foldout area in a bookcase. The only thing missing was the dry, slightly musty smell I remember from my Grandma’s home.
Myn turned back to me with two glasses in her hands. She handed me my Irish, a sip told me she made it strong! She sat on the couch with me, curling her legs under her in a pose I wish I could duplicate. If I tried it, my knees would be sticking out over the edge and I would look silly.
She looked at me with a relaxed expression and we waited, for what I have no idea. We sipped in silence, but not a bad silence. We could hear some birds and other things coming in her living room window. The view was to dark to really see anything and the lights on the inside made the glass look opaque. The large window was out of the back of her apartment. She saw me looking and motioned me to come with her. Down a short hallway we entered her bedroom, again a marvel of antiques, including a humungous bed. For one sec I was nervous, but she moved past the bed to a set of French Doors.
She opened them and we went out on a balcony that overlooked a small city park. There was enough lighting to see that it was a sheltered place, almost like an English garden situated within the confines of several buildings that all backed up against it. I couldn’t make out the details in the dark, but it looked like an isolated section of the world, free from modern contamination. I loved it!
She stood close to me because the balcony wasn’t very large. A small table, perfect for two hovers eating a sun-filled breakfast, filled most of the area. She stood slightly in front of me. I stepped against her and she leaned her head back on me. My hands went to her waist and we stood there looking over the park as the moon came out from behind a cloud and lit everything up with it’s silver light.
She turned toward me and for a second I thought she might kiss me, but instead she hugged me. She fit perfectly against me, her head on my shoulder, hers arms around my waist. My chin rested against the top of her head and my arms were around her shoulders. Things felt right!
We went back in and returned to the living room, this time she sat next to me, her back against my side, my arm around her with my hand just below her breasts. We still fit nicely together.
“This is nice!”
“I know, I was just thinking that. I usually don’t ‘fit’ so perfectly against someone, my bony body.”
She twisted to look at me. “There is nothing ‘bony’ about you. You are just taller and slimmer than some people.”
“Tell that to . . .” She cut me off.
“Fuck them, you aren’t with them right now. You are here with me. I love your height, and the fact we seem to slide in together like two jigsaw puzzles.”
Wow, she knew exactly what I was thinking, and she was thinking the same thing.
She started telling me a little bit about herself.
“The apartment belonged to my grandmother, she left it to me. I always loved it and aside from adding a few pieces and keeping it up, this is my favorite place in the world. I have a smaller apartment on the next floor down I usually use when I’m entertaining, but something told me you would like it up here.”
Two apartments, in this city? “I love it. It’s wonderful.”
“Most of my friends prefer to other one, and when they are around I guess I do too. It’s a typical modern apartment and I have my office and entertainment center there. A TV would be out of place here.”
She got up to refresh our glasses and she snuggled back with me. “Tell me about your place.”
“I have a little apartment I got while I was in college. It’s small, but when the building converted to garden apartments–you know condos–I decided to buy it. It’s homey, filled with a few of my own grandmother’s pieces, things she gave me before she passed away.”
“I am surprised you like a small place, I was picturing you in a huge house.”
“No, I like the hominess of it. I used to travel a lot after college, business here and there. Having my place as a refuge was perfect. Very few of my friends have ever been there for more than just to pick me up. I guess I protected it with a vengeance. My family all lives out of town. I use it as my anchor point.”
“I know about those places, this is one. Did you ever bring guys to your apartment?”
“Never, well never a boyfriend, I have a few close friends, guys and girls, who have been there. They tell me it’s to small, but they don’t understand that it’s mine.”
I could feel her laughing quietly. Her body was moving and my hand felt every breath.
“Oh I understand you alright. I think that’s why I felt you would know how important this place is to me. It was my anchor when my grandmother was alive, and it’s still my anchor since she’s gone.”
I could feel her slight sadness and I hugged her to me tight. Hugging her made my own sadness at thinking about my grandmother less. I flashed to my grandmother sitting next to another grandmotherly woman who looked remarkably like Myn. I couldn’t hear their words, but they seemed to be watching and they approved.
I teared up at that thought. A sip of the Irish calmed me down. Myn sensed something. “You OK?”
“Yea, just remember my grandmother.”
“Were you close?”
“She was a great lady! She’s the one that encouraged me to go to college, and more importantly to make something of myself rather than just go get married. She was an independent woman before it was fashionable.”
“Sounds a bit like my grandmother. A Great lady! She would have laughed at being called a lady, but it fit her anyway. She just may not have lived up to society’s idea of a lady, but she is mine. Would she approve of you being here with me?”
“I think she does!”
She does? Do you see her often?”
“She is the image I judge many of my actions against. I imagine her reaction and it usually tells me if I am bullshitting myself. It’s silly, but sometimes I know I am fooling myself by deliberately not thinking about her, knowing that she would disapprove.”
“She was a disapproving sort?”
“No, more of a ‘you gotta live your own life’ sort. She would disapprove if she thought I was living my life for anyone else. She may not agree with some of the things I’ve done, but she would support me in my right as long as it was something I wanted. She also believed in learning from your mistakes, and the ultimate mistake was not being yourself.”
“So you sitting in a bar, staring at me would be OK with her.”
I thought and a mental image of her smile came to me. “She thought homosexuality was silly. Not from the act, but from societies reaction. She thought that throughout history there were people attracted some someone of the same sex and over-reacting did more harm than good. The silliness was in that a gay couple might be missing out on many of the more traditional things, but she also felt that it was their life to live and the rest of the world should just shut up and leave them alone.”
“My grandmother was a little more against it. She thought that it defeated the whole purpose of procreation and that I would have to be nuts to be a lesbian. Her real reaction was that she felt I would be making my life more difficult than it needed to be, that society wasn’t yet ready to be accepting and that I would have a problem finding a life mate.
We sat cuddled in a companionable silence. She broke it. “Usually the next question is “So you are a lesbian?”
“I hate to disappoint you, but I wasn’t thinking along those lines. I was thinking more about my grandmother and how she and yours might get along. Whether you re a lesbian or not doesn’t seem to make a lot of difference. I am here with you, not your sexual preferences.”
“That’s a surprising way of looking at things. Most girls either get excited or freaked out at the idea of being with a ‘girl’.”
“Do you have a lot of experience dealing with straight girls?”
“The term we usually use is ‘bi-curious’.”
“Bi-curious, interesting phrase, but I am not sure it applies.”
“You aren’t curious?”
“Somewhat, but being curious about sex with a girl isn’t why I am here.” I looked at her, turning her head so we could look each other in the eyes. “I am here to be with you, not because you are a girl, or because I might have some silly school-girl curiosity. I am here because you fascinated me from the moment you walked in and I knew, with all my soul, that we would be together.”
“Nope, this on-the-fritz-brain of mine wouldn’t let you go. I don’t know what it means, but being here feels right.”
“You’ve used that term, ‘feels right’, several tmes, do you always follow your gut like that?”
I thought for a few seconds. “Not often enough! When I do, things usually seem to work out well. Sometimes my gut doesn’t seem to say much, but when I have a feeling, I finally learned not to ignore it.”
“Now you have raised my curious nature. You looked away, why?”
“It was right after you dealt with that dick-head.”
“Oh, the guy who got insulted when I refused his drink.”
“Yea, that one and his buddy.”
“He was just spoiling for an argument. When I looked at him and didn’t offer him an argument, he lost his head of steam.”
“It looked like much more than that.”
“Back to the original question, why did you look away?”
“I needed to think for a second. The look on your face was frightening. You caught me off guard and I needed to think. Then I turned around and you were gone.”
“Yea, that idiot took all the fun out of my evening. I was going to just leave when I decided to talk to you. You really made a couple of my friends nervous. They thought you were some sort of stalker, but I told them you were harmless.”
“Harmless am I? That one girl didn’t think so.”
“Sharon is a little uptight. She is convinced she is in love with me. I like her, I like her a lot when she isn’t pushing, but I don’t love her.”
Myn turned back away from me and snuggled with my arm around her again. “Besides, we always seem to bump heads when we hug, I hate to think of the bruises if we ever actually made love.”
I laughed and I could feel her smile. Without warning, she took my hand and placed it on her breast.
I was surprised that I didn’t react stronger, but my hand formed a cup and held her breast. I could feel the bra, and the silkiness of the material of her top. I massaged her breast like I like mine touched, gently supporting her, rather than mauling her beautiful breast. Her bra was to thick for me to feel her nipple, but I felt her tense up a little that told me I was doing all right by her.
My own breasts are much smaller than hers and the comparison was almost impossible. My beasts wouldn’t fill up my palm; hell both of them together wouldn’t fill up one of my palms. My nipples are also small, but fairly sensitive. I love a gently but firm touch, instead too many guys think my small breasts should be ignored or they start tweaking my nipples like they were using pliers. Instant turn-off! Her breast filled and overfilled my hand. It was so amazing to feel the difference. When I rubbed gently up, her whole breast moved up, making a wide motion more than possible. Her breast was soft, without a doubt, perfectly natural, none of the artificiality of a boob job. I wasn’t getting turned on exactly, but I could sense her excitement building just a little. This isn’t to say I was cautious with her breast. I lifted and gently flattened her breast to the limits of its remarkable range of motion. Myn liked having it flattened and pulled toward the outside. I wonder if her bra material was scratching her nipple?
She stopped my hand and took it away from her breast. She kissed my palm and put it to her face. “I should warn you that I wasn’t trying to test you or even to seduce you. I am not sure I did that on purpose or some subconscious decided that my breast needed attention. Whatever the reason if we keep going we are going to make love. I am not sure I can bear for you to have second thoughts in the morning.”
“What do you mean?”
She cuddled me again, but kept my hand at her waist. “A sad thing about loving inexperienced girls is that someone who is bi-curious sometimes regret what happened the night before.”
“Just like a virgin who regrets being de-flowered, I guess.”
“Exactly the same thing. But when you wake up and the sweetness you shared the night before turns into the ugliness of accusations, the pain of rejection, or the disgust in herself that she turns outward to you. It hurts a great deal more than I can stand. I don’t think I can deal with you if you might regret what may happen between us.”
“Tell me what happened to you.”
She moved to leave my side, but I held her against me. I could feel the tears as they flowed down her face, but she needed me to understand this–even as personal as it was, she needed to tell me.”
“I foolishly fell for a young lady I met at the gym. We started spending some time together, as friends, and I wanted more. So I opened myself up and told her my orientation.”
I held her tight to let her know her courage was admirable.
“She didn’t react like so many girls and I set my hopes very high. She asked some intelligent questions and after some dinner, including some wine, we went to bed. Without getting graphic, we had a wonderful night. She was an inquisitive lover, always willing to try something and appeared to enjoy it. We fell asleep very late and I woke up to her screaming at me.”
Myn was crying. My self-confident new friend? My potential lover? This girl had hurt her savagely.
“She accused me of taking advantage of her, of getting her drunk. She said the most hurtful things to me, at me, and at lesbians in general. It took a while and a few friends of mine helped me understand. She was reacting to herself not to me. She was frightened in the things she felt and didn’t have any other way to deal with them. She probably went out and found the first cock she could to prove to herself that she was ‘normal’. I know I didn’t coerce her, that it was her and not the alcohol. But, it did hurt so much.”
I held her while she let it out. “I feel sorry for that girl.”
“Not only did she lose a precious thing, your trust and your love, but she will never truly believe that she is normal again. Late at night she is going to remember, and she is going to spend the rest of her life running from her own feelings.”
“I never thought of it like that.”
“What would you do if she came in right now, into this room?”
“I don’t think I can face her. I dropped my membership at that gym because I couldn’t see her.”
“You know what drove her, and it wasn’t you.” I slipped off the couch and knelt on the floor, my height still made our faces the same level. I held her beautiful face and asked her again. “What would you say to her?”
“Honestly unless I knew she was sorry for how she treated me, I doubt I would want to see her.”
“I bet she has apologized, a million times in her mind. Whether she can face that part of herself is up to her. She has to do that before she can face you. But suppose she has. Suppose she has faced her own behavior and her treatment of you, her lover, how would you react?”
Myn sniffed, her face a little blotchy from crying. “I would talk to her. I think I would still have to know she was OK. But I couldn’t let her back into my life. Some of the things she said were too hurtful to be her lover again, even if they really weren’t directed at me.”
I pulled her to me in a hug. Myn was a good soul! Grandma, and even Mom, would approve!
“Does every straight girl act like that?”
“Oh no, most leave on good terms, but too many never return once their curiosity is satisfied.”
“Sounds like a typical one-night stand.”
“In some ways, but like anything else, it’s a risk. I try and pick very carefully, because it can hurt.”
“I know, Myn, when the phone never rings the day after, I always wonder what did I do. Did I take him to bed to easily, did I not satisfy him, or is he just an asshole?”
She laughed again, which lightened my heart. “Asshole, definitely an asshole!”
I hugged her and we laughed together. Who would have thought a lesbian and a straight would feel such similar things. I guess being human is the answer. The question is now where to go?
We fell into that companionable silence as we each got a little lost in our own thoughts. I would love to know exactly what she was thinking, but I think she gave me all the clues. Myn is a lesbian, but she is also a romantic—something a silly straight like myself never thought all the way through. She bares her heart when she loves and she’s been hurt, at least once badly. I feel like I should hate the girl who hurt her, but I can’t. I honestly feel for the girl because I think I am feeling some of what she went through. I am certainly attracted to her, but how will I feel waking up the next morning. I try and not do things I might regret, but it does happen. I can’t promise Myn I wouldn’t have second thoughts in the morning. Should I leave or should I stay?
I hugged Myn close again and rested my cheek on her head. Decision time! “Myn, I am at a loss as to what to do. I can’t explain how I feel right now, but I know leaving would be the wrong thing to do, but if I stay I run the risk of hurting you. That would be wrong also. I don’t ever remember being this befuddled at the beginning of a relationship, that usually waits until the end.”
She twisted in my hold, kneeing on the cushions looking intently at me, ignoring my attempt at levity. “Do you realize what you just said?”
I looked at her.
“A relationship. Do we have a relationship?”
I smiled ruefully at her. “I think, to paraphrase a favorite movie of mine, this is the beginning.”
“You didn’t finish that line, I love Casablanca too. You forgot ‘of a beautiful friendship.'”
“I didn’t forget. I want you as a friend, but I refuse to define us as just friends.”
Myn sat up on her knees. “Do you have any idea of the mixed signals you are sending, baby?”
She called me ‘baby’, which sent a thrill up my spine. “I know, Myn, I am usually much more decisive. I think you are as well. Why the hell are we dancing so carefully around each other?”
We paused, each doing a mental reassessment. I saw what frightened me–the potential. There was something so fucking RIGHT about Myn, a feeling I always wanted but never found in all my searching. I decided . . .
Myn got up and held her hand out to me. She lifted me to my feet and she led me to her bedroom. I started to get nervous and excited. “Myn . . .”
“Shhh, we have done enough talking. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
We entered her bedroom again. She flipped on a small light and I got a better look at the room. If I get my own room in heaven, I want it to look just like this one. Cream-colored walls hung with damask fabric, large heavy furniture, and a bed that could sleep six. She aimed me towards the other door. “You first, shower if you want, there is a new toothbrush in the drawer. I’ll find you something to wear, if I can.”
In a daze I follow her instructions. The shower had a glorious waterfall-type showerhead! After I was ready, I paused to examine myself in the full-length mirror. I suddenly wished for a better body, more hips and bust, even thicker thighs. I really did look like a racehorse, thin legs, muscular flanks, good abs, and a very flat chest. I scrubbed what little make-up off, so I even a little pasty-white. Wrapping a towel around myself, I swallowed nervously and went back into the bedroom. Myn was sitting on the bed, naked.
She looked up and smiled. “I figured I had a 50-50 chance of you walking out naked.”
Smiling at her candor. “So did you win or lose?”
“You are here, I am already a winner.”
She was irresistible! Then she slid off the bed and stood up. She was even more beautiful now than ever. Her large breasts had a tiny bit of drop to gravity, her slim waist told me that she stayed in shape, her hips so perfect, and I knew she would feel so good in my hands.
She approached me and I was afraid she would tear the towel off. Instead the directed me to a chair in front of her make-up table. She sat me down and started to brush my hair out. “I love long hair, and yours is so thick and dark.” She gently brushed it out and started using a low-powered blow dryer to dry my hair before bed. Her hands were practiced and in a surprisingly short time my hair was dry.
“My turn, I don’t usually shower at night, so if you want you can do my hair for me in the morning.”
She hit the bathroom while I sat there looking at myself in the mirror. Large eyes on a long face; my long hair usually pulled back in a ponytail, it was too thick for a bun. I tried it once, but it looked like something had crash-landed on the back of my head. I looked different with my hair hanging down like that.
Myn came out and went to the bed, still beautifully naked. I doubt she ever wore anything to bed, that felt like her style. She turned down the comforter, and the blanket, leaving us the sheet. It was a nice night; we would be too warm with anything else. She came over and lifted me up, then slowly, one inch at a time, she unhooked the corner of the towel and let it fall to the floor.
She whistled lightly and examined me, in appreciation. My face flushed, half embarrassed and half proud. “You are beautiful, Sally!”
I blushed crimson.
“No false modesty. You are perfect!”
“No way, Myn, I am a bony skeleton.” All my life I had been skinny. One a charitable day someone might call me thin, but even when I was a kid and towered over everyone else, boys and girls, I was always skinny. Kids can be cruel, and picking up the nickname ‘Boney’ did do wonders for my self-esteem, NOT.
“You are either a runner or a dancer.”
She actually sounded impressed.
She touched my thigh, tracing the muscle definition. “So strong!”
She did, she really liked how I looked.
She sensed my nervousness and took me to the bed, I slid in first, warming the sheets as she retrieved my towel and took it back to the bathroom. The coolness of the evening made my tight little nipples rock-hard.
She came back in and slid in next to me. Without a thought we fitted ourselves together. It wasn’t possible to describe it, but we fit so perfectly, not pressure spots, no one’s arm or leg going to sleep. Pure perfection.
She sought my face with hers, and our lips connected. I was expecting electricity, but instead she gently kissed me, making me feel comforted and secure. Then she laid her head on my shoulder and we just slowly drifted off to sleep. Just as I dropped off, I thought about how lucky I was.
Waking up is normally a slow, languid affair, especially when I slept as deeply as I did last night. However a harpy named Sharon had other ideas.
“HOW COULD YOU?” shrieked at a horrible volume. The girl from last night was standing in the doorway of the bedroom foaming at the mouth.
Myn sat up, her face burning in anger and shame. Her hand on my shoulder kept me from sitting up. “Sharon, what are you doing here?”
“I came up to find you, I was downstairs, I waited for you all night and I find you with this skag.”
At first I was embarrassed for Myn at the intrusion, but any embarrassment quickly faded into enmity.
“Sharon, there isn’t anything for you here, go home.”
“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND–I LOVE YOU.”
Myn’s voice ripped across and hit Sharon hard. “You don’t love me, you just want me like a child wants a toy.” He voice wasn’t loud, but its edge could cut skin.
Sharon wailed again and started toward the bed. Myn’s voice rose and hammered her. “STOP!” Sharon stopped like a marionette on tight strings. “Go, get out of my home. You don’t belong here. Get out of my building and never return.” Myn’s voice was now as sharp as steel and as cold as frozen hell.
Sharon’s hands came to her face and she ran out of the room. Myn looked skyward for a second. “Damn that girl. Sally, please don’t leave I have to make sure she’s safely gone and that she’s taken care off. In her state she might hurt herself or someone else. The stupid child!”
She got up, grabbing the phone extension and padded out of the bedroom. Ten minutes later she came back and sat on the edge f the bed.
Reaching for her, I pull her down, knowing the sobs were going to come. She feels things so strongly, this wonderful woman. “Is she OK?”
She pats my shoulder; “You are a love, Sally, to be concerned for someone you don’t know. Yea, she’s in good hands. Cheryl, who was one of the other girls at the bar last night also crashed in my apartment downstairs. She intercepted Sharon on the way down and is taking her home. She stayed because of how Sharon was acting last night, but Sharon woke up before her. ”
Myn sobbed and I pulled her down to me, holding her close.
“Why . . .”
“Hush, love, this isn’t your fault because she was deluding herself.”
“I know, but I should have . . .”
“No honey, you know there was nothing you could have done. If you realized she was going to follow you home, you might have headed off her explosion. But you had no idea she was boiling over downstairs.”
Myn clung to me, my confident Myn helpless in front of another’s irrational behavior.
The phone rang; I took it while Myn looked at me, half-thankfully, and half wishing it all never happened.
“Oh, hi. Is Myn there?”
“Yes, but she’s upset right now. Can I pass a message? I’m Sally, by the way.”
“Sally, you were the tall girl from the bar?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“I guess you heard . . .”
“Heard and saw, I am sorry to say. What can I tell Myn?”
“Tell her that Sharon is home and what she did is sinking in. She’s already starting apologizing. I put her in bed and I’ll baby-sit her until the worst is over.”
“Thanks Cheryl. I’ll tell her. And thanks from me as well. I owe you.”
“Nope, Sharon owes me, she’s my sister and she’ll be paying for this one for years, the dumb kid.”
“Good luck, I would offer to help, but my face is the last one she needs to see right now.”
Cheryl chuckled and we said goodbye.
I told Myn and she collapsed down on herself. “Thank goodness for Cher, or that bitch would probably have done something drastic to get my attention.”
I pull her out straighter, laying her on her stomach. Straddling her hips, I started rubbing her back. She was a mass of tight muscles, stress-related.
“What do you think she’ll do?”
“I don’t know.” Myn said muffled slightly by a pillow. “I sure didn’t expect this!”
Working firmly, I could feel her starting to relax.
“Ummm, Sally, you have great hands.”
“Practice, years of practice.”
“What exactly do you do for a living?”
“Well I used to be a runner, long and middle distances.”
“You made a living running?”
“Yup, a nice one. Sponsors and the whole nine yards. But I never quite was good enough to win the big events. So now I work for one of my old sponsors recruiting other talent for their support. I also do some coaching and equipment testing.”
“All those years, surrounded by all those girls and you never once . . .”
“Nope, never felt that particular urge.”
“Amazing! Oh yes, right there, that feels so good!”
“A good massage is better than sex.”
“You’ve been leading a sheltered life if you believe that one!”
I slid down, straddling her thighs and went to work on her lower back. It also gave me a great view of her ass. She was deeply tanned, but she didn’t tan in the nude. Her natural skin tone was still darker than mine, but it was much lighter than her tan. Her skin was so smooth, no blemishes, no marks of any kind. It was rounder and fuller than a runner’s, but very firm and muscular. I don’t what she did to stay in such shape, but that body held such explosive potential. I might beat her in a distance race, but she was so strong, in a sprint she would destroy me. I think in most physical activity she would overpower me. That wasn’t a feeling I was used to.
I really cast all other thoughts out and explored her body, my fingers pressing deep into all her major muscle groups. Her thighs held the promise of serious power; I was beginning to see evidence of weight-work. Her body looked lush, but was actually so solid. She was a pleasure to touch.
There was nothing sexual, even when she opened her thighs so I could work on them better. Or I should say there was nothing sexual on my part. When she parted her thighs, her scent hit me, light, but not fruity, a scent which left a nice aftertaste in the back on my mouth. Myn was a little turned on, probably from being relaxed after this morning’s stress.
Her calves were also well shaped and strong, as were her ankles. They looked like a dancer’s ankles, but not with the same flexibility. Strong legs, thighs, ass, good upper body strength, but not the long, lean muscle of an endurance athlete. It hit me; she’s a skater or blader. Ice-skating, speed skating, or roller-blading was her main aerobic exercise. It felt good to figure out the little mystery. From her upper body musculature, my guess is ice-skating or speed skating. I could easily picture her in a skin-suit exploding from the starting blocks. I could also see her in a sexy skirt launching herself into a quadruple axel.
Her feet were ticklish, it took me a while to find the right touch to dig my thumbs into the soles of her feet without her squirming, but it was such lovely squirming.
“Myn, roll over.”
“Sally, I don’t th . . .”
“Shhhh, Myn-love, we’re not to the talking stage yet. Please turn over for me.”
She complied, which added to the heady perfume already in the air. Working again from her feet, I worked my way back up hr legs, trying to stay professional, but my own excitement was building. Having her watch me didn’t help. Her gaze wasn’t predatory, like every guy I have ever had in this position. It was a relaxed look, non-threatening, but she was certainly aware of me.
I straddled her thighs again, and as I opened my legs, the cool air let me know just how excited I was getting.
Her abs were nice and flat, with just a hint of her musculature. Then I scooted up and my pussy touched her mound, I left a wet trail as I moved up. She had to know!
I got up and knelt above her head; it was so much easier to work her chest, shoulders, and neck from here. “You should do this professionally.”
“How about semi-professionally?”
“In the spring and summer I am an assistant coach and trainer for my college’s girls softball team, I minored in sports medicine.”
The banter helped me get my head screwed back on, but it didn’t stop my own excitement from building. In very unprofessional manner, even a semi-unprofessional manner, I massaged her nice large breasts. There was no hiding the sexual nature as I reached past her face and rubbed down, pressing them as flat as I could, as flat as they could ever be.
Like earlier, I couldn’t stop once I started. Her breasts were so different than my own. If it weren’t for my hard nipples, you might mistake me for a boy in that department. Hers were firm, but fleshy, resilient to my touch, soft and smooth, perfect globes to play with. In many ways I always wanted these breasts, the idea of running with them – a girl could get hurt. I wonder how she ice skates with them. Most ice skaters and speed skaters are pretty small topside.
Without realizing it I leaned over her to get a better look. At one point I squeezed her breast into a cone-like shape with her nipple as the top. I had to taste her, so I touched my tongue to her breast and licked around her aureole, then across the nipple.
Myn made a noise, but at the instant I lost it, because she did the same to my meager offerings. She not only licked my tiny breasts, but she sucked so perfectly on the nipple, I thought I was going to die. No hard, but not soft, a firm pressure that built until I wanted to scream. I fell on top of her and took her nipple in my mouth.
My face was caught in the valley of her breasts while she devoured me. Her hands went around my back and pulled me against her face. I was too far-gone to do anything myself as her nails scratched my back forcing me to push harder against her mouth. I was still on my knees, but they were spread wide apart to give me some balance, then Myn’s hand snaked up and between my legs and she rubbed across my clitoris. Take one horny girl, add an hour or so of exploration of a heavenly angel, pinch her nipple in your teeth, and then touch her clit and you get Orgasm, with a capital ‘O’. I was alert and aware of everything as my body fell over on its side. Myn’s hand never left my pussy as two of her fingers penetrated me. Her mouth never left my breast, but it made my nipple stretch so painfully, so beautifully painfully in her teeth as I fell over.
I tried to take a fetal position, but Myn wasn’t going to be denied as she forced my legs open and she let go of my breast to turn around. She pushed me onto my back and she lay between my legs, three fingers now pushing in and out of my pussy, it felt like a short but thick cock, but the motions of her fingers while they were inside me was something a cock could only dream about.
My orgasm continued as her tongue tried to push my clit back under its hood. No going, my clit was there to stay, but her efforts felt so incredible, each push, lick, and prod ran up my spine and exploded in my brain. My back and legs tensed up and the brain finally released me into oblivion!
I woke up still on the bed, but my arm and shoulder were hanging off. Myn was still between my legs licking me clean. I have never passed out from cumming, but while I was only out for a few seconds, I was out! I stirred and a smiling Myn looked up, we made eye contact and she left my tender pussy. I was wet on her face, and she never looked better!
I pulled her up as I repositioned my self. She slid up my body like a sensuous snake. When she reached my face, I went to kiss her. She pulled away. “I am all wet, let me . . . ”
Pulling her to me, I licked her cheek and kissed her full on the lips, my tongue searching her mouth for my own taste. She met me halfway and our kiss took on new meaning as her body pressed down along mine, my hands exploring sexily the areas I had massaged before. She felt hotter, but it mattered little as my lover kissed me so thoroughly.
She smiled at me, “Any second thoughts?”
“Hell yes, seconds and thirds, and fourths.” I replied as I pushed her over on her back so I could do my own tasting!