Have you ever looked at a face you thought you knew as well as your own and realised, suddenly, that you couldn’t look away? Or looked into the eyes of someone brand new and thought Oh, there you are? Love can hit you like a fist or comfort you like a caressing hand, but it is never weak, or placid, and in the darkest moments there is beauty to be found, in love, in loss, in living connected to another person, or aching for a connection that’s been lost.
If I Told You has 16 stories of love, sex, heartache, and laughter; filled with firsts and lasts, and all the agony and ecstasy in between.
Destiny decides who touches your life. Your heart decides who touches your soul.
But the naughty bits are up for grabs.
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Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
If I Told You
Copyright © 2011 J.P. Layberry
ISBN: 978-1-55487-951-9
Cover art by Martine Jardin
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by eXtasy Books
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Smashwords Edition
If I Told You
By
J. P. Layberry
DEDICATION
To my beautiful Joanne, the physical, emotional, and spiritual manifestation of every dream of beauty I ever had.
Index
If I Told You
Gotta Love View
Getting My Jolies
Jewels
Life is Nothing Like a Box of Chocolates
Control
Ziggy
For Us
I Fell
Light and Shadow
Things We Never Say
Eavesdropped
The Kiss
Heading Home
I Looked for You
Eyes Wide Open
Chapter 1
If I Told You
If I told you I was gay, would you see me differently than you always have? Would you feel uncomfortable in my presence? If I made a passing comment about your new haircut, or an outfit that looked nice on you, would you thank me with a smile that didn’t reach your eyes and secretly wonder what I meant by it? If I was attracted to you? If I wanted to touch you? Kiss you? Undress you in some dark room with soft music playing in the background and a chest full of sex toys on the floor beside the bed?
If you saw a gay character on TV, would you imagine it was me you were seeing, leaning in for that first kiss? Would it turn you on to do so?
Would you look over your shoulder and whisper to the people at work about me, warning them to watch themselves in the change rooms?
Would you try to imagine what my lover and I do together? Or try very hard not to?
Would you feel compelled to tell me your own little secret crush on some Hollywood starlet in an attempt to show me that, while you are completely straight, you still somehow understand what it is like to be me?
Would I show up in your dreams? Your nightmares? If you saw me there, kissing your breasts, your stomach…staring into your eyes as my hands explored your most secret places…would you wake up screaming? Or struggle not to wake? Would you turn over and ravish your husband? Ravish yourself?
Would your opinions regarding gay rights be affected either way?
If I told you I was gay, would you secretly be relieved that you’re not alone? Or feel sorry for me because I am?
Would you hate me?
If I told you I was gay, would you see me any differently than you always have?
Chapter 2
Gotta Love View
“Jesus, they’re at it again.”
“What’s that?”
“The neighbours. You’d think they’d invest in some curtains.”
Diane entered the room and wandered over to the window to join her husband. Their bedroom light was off, so he stood squarely in front of the open window without any fear of being seen.
She frowned slightly, “Well you don’t have to look you know.”
“Yeah right, I got naked ladies kissing over there, not twenty feet away, and I’m supposed to just look away? You know I love you, honey, but I’m not a freakin’ saint.”
“I’m shocked. No really.”
“Cute.”
She looked over his shoulder. Yeah, they were going at it all right. The tall blonde was chewing at the shorter brunette’s neck from behind like a penthouse vampire, while fondling her small breasts. The brunette seemed to be enjoying it, reaching behind her to run her fingers through the blonde’s hair. Diane swallowed hard, feeling an unsettling tingle in her more private places. “They seem to be enjoying themselves,” she said, pleased to hear how normal her voice sounded.
He chuckled. “Only ‘cause they don’t know what they’re missing.”
Her husband stepped behind her, grinding the evidence of his arousal against the small of her back, as he looked over the top of her head at the show across the way. Apparently he still appreciated the advantages of having a diminutive wife.
“Dave…”
“Yes, dear?” He kissed the top of her head.
“We really shouldn’t be watching this.”
“Why not? If they minded, don’t you think they would have gotten curtains by now? Some blinds maybe?”
“Still…” His hands moved to her breasts, and she sighed and closed her eyes. “It doesn’t seem right.”
“Hey, with what we paid for this house, it’s only fair that it comes with a view.”
She chuckled. “Maybe that’s why it cost so much. Lord knows the neighbourhood isn’t that nice.”
One of the blonde’s hands had crept downward and disappeared between the brunette’s legs. Dave’s moved to follow its example. He had to crouch slightly behind her in order to reach, and she felt the hardness of him slip farther down to press against her ass. She took a deep breath as his hand reached its destination. He rubbed her hard through the rough denim of her jeans.
She wanted to protest. She didn’t care for being treated like a piece of meat, or some prop in a low-budget porno but, she forced herself to admit, there was something sort of exciting about it. Dave was a great guy, but even before she married him she’d known that he was less than astonishing in the bedroom. Not that he was a wimp or anything. He was good…generous, attentive, well-endowed even. But somehow he always seemed to lack that spark, that star-quality that would curl her toes and straighten her hair. There were no toys, no games…just nice, predictable lovemaking.
So, while she might not exactly approve of his neighbour-inflicted erection, she had to at least appreciate the novelty of it all. They were standing by a window on a random Tuesday night, ogling a sexy pair of lesbian lovers, and grinding against one another.
It could have been worse.
One of his hands slid under her shirt. She didn’t wear bras. Her A cup breasts made the idea and expense seem like an exercise in futility…and he liked it better that she didn’t. At the moment, she was glad of the fact. His hand glided over her skin, teasing her nipples, making them stand at attention for him.
She wondered briefly if the women would be able to see her as clearly as she could see them, if they paused long enough in their appreciation of one another to glance out their window. She doubted it. Unlike the women’s apartment, which was fully lit, it was very dark in their room, and there wasn’t enough moonlight to do more than, perhaps, catch a faint outline.
The brunette turned suddenly and bent down, kissing the blonde’s breasts.
Diane’s breath caught in her throat. The blonde rested her arms comfortably atop the brunette’s shoulders. It was a gesture that struck Diane as particularly intimate in its familiarity. It looked as if they had stood in that pose a thousand times. She sighed.
Dave kissed her neck and she closed her eyes for a moment, feeling romantic in spite of the tackiness of the overall scenario. Dave muttered something she couldn’t understand against her neck, his voice muffled against her skin.
“What was that?”
“I said,” he kissed her again, “she’s got a nice ass.”
A bark of laughter escaped her before she remembered to be offended. “That’s what you’re thinking while you’re kissing my neck?” She couldn’t quite keep the smile off her face, but took comfort in the fact that he clearly wasn’t looking at her face.
“Sorry, but…I mean look at it.”
She grinned. “I’m looking”
“You can’t tell me that’s not a nice ass.”
She shook her head and leaned back against him. “I’m not the best person to judge.”
“Well try harder then.”
She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She let her gaze linger on the brunette’s ass, feeling mildly ridiculous. “Well, it certainly is…round.”
“Round?” he said incredulously. “Round is not the measure of a nice ass.”
She smiled and pushed herself back against him. “So what is?”
“Ah…well, Grasshopper…that’s a question you must ask yourself.”
She rolled her eyes again, and smiled, knowing that she had married a schmuck. He kissed her neck again, tasting it with his tongue.
She tilted her head to the side and continued her contemplation of the woman’s posterior. She tried to see it the way he obviously did. She let herself appreciate the woman’s skin, very tanned and smooth looking. She wondered briefly if she used a sunless tanner and then pushed the thought away.
She watched as the blonde reached down over her back and caressed it, her hand sliding slowly across it, from one side to the other, lingering briefly where the two halves met.
She gasped, feeling a pang of excitement in her nether regions that almost hurt her with its intensity. She squirmed against Dave for a second before letting out a long shaky breath and trying to regain her composure.
“Hmm.”
She felt him grinning against her neck.
He kissed her ear and whispered, “I told you it was a nice ass.”
She smiled and turned her head, kissing him for a moment before looking back out the window. The blonde had pulled her partner up for a long slow kiss. One of her arms went around the brunette’s shoulders, as the other one slowly caressed her back for a long moment before wrapping around her waist and pulling her very close.
“I think they’re in love,” Diane said absently.
“Who could blame them?”
“Mmm,” she breathed in agreement.
Dave’s arms were around her waist, wrapping her in strength and warmth. As always, she savoured the way he could make her feel completely safe and secure. With a quick movement, he pulled her t-shirt off over her head.
“Dave!” She crossed her arms in front of her. “Jesus!” Her heart pounded against her ribs. She could hear its staggering rhythm. She felt dizzy.
“They can’t see you. They aren’t even looking…see?”
She took a few deep breaths and looked back over there.
The women were still oblivious to anything but each other. Their kiss had grown more passionate, their bodies pressed close together as their hands explored.
Dave ran his hands over her arms until she relaxed and let him pull them away. As her heart steadied back into something resembling its normal rhythm, she found herself grinning. It was surprisingly liberating to be standing there like that—her breasts bared in front of the open window. She glanced down at them and felt a nervous flutter in her stomach. The moon was illuminating them somewhat. She saw his hands come around her, cupping them, squeezing them…she swallowed hard.
“Look at them, honey…watch them.”
She nodded and followed instructions…and saw the brunette drop to her knees, kissing the triangle of dark hair that betrayed the seemingly natural hue of the other woman’s golden locks.
Dave groaned at the sight of it. His voice sounded hoarse. He dropped one hand to the button of her jeans and undid it.
She moaned softly, aroused by his closeness and, she had to admit, by the sight of the two women making love.
The blonde’s head was thrown back. She had her hands in the brunette’s hair, holding her in place. It was a beautiful picture. The blonde’s neck was very long, her arms slender and lightly shadowed with muscle.
Diane wondered if those muscles were shaking. She wondered if the brunette could hear her ragged breathing or if she was silent in her appreciation. Although there was certainly much hidden activity going on in isolated places, they might have been a painting, so still did they appear, frozen in a tableau of intimacy. It was surprisingly beautiful.
Dave had opened her jeans and was slowly pulling them downward. She didn’t try and stop him. She didn’t want to tear her eyes away from that tableau, afraid that any movement on her part would ruin it somehow.
When Dave moved in front of her, momentarily breaking her line of sight, she frowned at him before she could stop herself, tilting her head to see past him. She could hear the grin in his voice as he dropped to his knees.
“You like that huh?”
“Shut up, Dave.” She felt a blush creep over her cheeks, but ignored it and kept watching. The brunette had her hands on the blonde’s hips, pulling her closer.
Diane imagined that she could feel those hands on her. Her heart sped up a bit. When Dave tapped one of her legs, signalling for her to step out of her jeans, she did so without comment. His hands ran over her then, moving slowly up the outside of her legs and over her ass.
She sighed deeply, imaging that it was the brunette’s hands she felt against her skin, shocked at herself, but not shying away from it.
There was a pause as Dave turned, putting his arm around her waist and watching the show from down there. “God, that’s so hot. There’s just something about two women together…”
“Yeah,” she said absently.
The blonde was looking down, saying something to the top of that dark head pressed against her. The brunette paused for a moment, looking up and apparently laughing. Her shoulders were shaking and the blonde smiled at her. Her teeth looked very white.
She kept smiling for a moment and then her mouth fell open as the brunette buried her face back where it had been a moment before. Whatever she was doing, it must have felt very good. The blonde’s head tilted back, her shoulders jutting forward as she curled her fingers in the brunette’s hair.
“God…” Diane muttered under her breath.
For the first time, she imagined that she was the brunette…imagined that it was she who was putting that expression of rapture on the blonde’s face. Her heart seemed to skip a beat, as if afraid of the turn things had taken.
She shook her head and forced her eyes away from the blonde’s face. They travelled down over her body, over the large breasts with their small dark nipples, over her lean, flat stomach. She licked her lips without realising it, imagining she was kissing the woman’s skin. When her eyes reached the brunette, a part of her wished she’d get the hell out of the way so she could see the rest of her, the most private part of her.
What the hell was wrong with her? She shook her head again and grabbed Dave, tangling her fingers in his hair and forcing his head down, pressing his face into her lap. He made a startled sound deep in his throat, a sound which quickly evolved into a long muffled groan as he pressed his mouth against her, kissing her deeply.
She let her eyes fall closed for a second, taking a deep breath and letting the feel of it wash over her. Then she opened her eyes and watched the brunette. Her head was moving slightly from side to side as she worked on pleasuring her beautiful friend. Diane felt as if her whole body was liquefying, more turned on than she could ever remember being in her life.
Dave’s tongue was deep inside her. But it was the brunette that she felt. She let go of his head with one hand and steadied herself against the window frame as her legs started to shake. She held her breath, afraid that, if she allowed herself to make a sound, it would shatter the glass with its volume.
The brunette wrapped her arms more tightly around the blonde’s body, supporting her, as she kept applying her invisible attentions. The blonde was shaking now, her whole body tensing and releasing as she gasped for breath, moving in sensuous pulses within the circle of her lover’s arms. Diane’s body hummed in sympathetic reaction.
Dave’s tongue pressed hard against her clit and she gasped. He ran it slowly over her, moving in delicious circles that made her dizzy and she cried out, not caring anymore about the glass, not even aware of it any longer…or of Dave. He didn’t exist. The darkened room didn’t exist. Not anymore. She was over there…in that room…with the women. She was hearing their gasping cries, feeling their skin giving off heat in shimmering waves, tasting the blonde woman’s climax on her tongue…and feeling the brunette tasting hers.
Wave after wave of ecstasy washed over her, until she couldn’t see them anymore, or anything else. She couldn’t hear or breathe or think. There was only sensation…and then that faded, too.
“Honey?…Honey, are you okay?”
“Hmmm.” Diane shook her head, wondering why Dave was patting her face like that. “What?”
“Honey…open your eyes.”
She did. Blinking, she looked up at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“Huh?” She looked around and it all came back to her. She was lying on the floor under her bedroom window, completely naked. And Dave’s expression was somewhere between concern and amusement. “What the hell…”
He grinned nervously. “Man, I knew I was a stud, but no one’s ever passed out before.”
“I passed out?”
“Yeah,” he shrugged. “I think you hyperventilated or something. It’s a good thing you’re small or you could have killed me.”
“I fell on you?” She covered her mouth, mortified.
“Well, you started to, but I caught you and sort of…laid you down here.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“I don’t think he had anything to do with this.”
She laughed and shook her head, still reeling from the image of herself toppling like a tiny oak tree on a lumberjack. “I certainly hope not.” She rested her hand against her forehead for a moment and then moved to sit up.
Dave gave her a hand, then sat down in front of her, studying her face as if he had never seen her before.
She sat very still for a moment, speechless, and then brought her feet underneath her and pushed herself into a kneeling position, looking out the window.
“They’re still over there I think, but they’re not standing anymore. Showtime’s over, I guess.”
Diane swallowed hard. “Good thing, too.”
Dave smiled and patted her ass fondly. “Don’t know about that. You seemed to kind of enjoy it. Should I be worried?”
Diane turned and slid down to a sitting position, leaning her back against the wall beneath the window. She looked at him for a moment and then looked away.
“Hey,” he saw the look on her face and moved quickly to her side, putting his arms around her.
She leaned her head against his chest. After a long moment, she started to cry.
“Hey…honey…I was only joking around.”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t funny,” she said quietly.
“Apparently not.”
She nodded against him and he just held her for a long time, stroking her hair.
When he spoke again, his voice was very quiet. “Talk to me…tell me what’s wrong.”
“I can’t.”
“Hey,” he turned her in his arms and touched his fingertips to the underside of her jaw, gently raising her head until he could look into her eyes. “It’s me. Okay? Whatever’s going on…you can tell me.”
She sighed. “Isn’t it obvious what’s going on?”
“Not really, no.”
She looked at him sceptically.
“I’m a guy remember? We don’t think so good after sex.”
She chuckled wetly. “You didn’t have sex. I passed out before we got to you.”
“And believe me, that doesn’t make my brain function any more smoothly.” He leaned in and kissed the end of her nose. “Just tell me, okay? Use small words.”
She smiled and leaned her forehead against his, remembering why she loved him so much. Sighing, she nodded slightly and made herself form words she never thought she’d hear herself say. “I think…I’m afraid…that I might be sort of…gay.”
He laughed silently.
She pulled back, shaking her head to cut off anything he might have been planning to say. “I’m serious. This is serious! Don’t you laugh!”
Nodding, he cleared his throat and forced the smile off his face. “Sorry, you’re right. If my wife is gay that’s definitely a problem. I don’t think you are, but…explain your reasoning to me. Maybe I’m missing something.”
She loved him but he never ceased to amaze her by how dim he could be at times. “Missing something? Are you kidding me? I just got so turned on by them that I passed out! That can’t be normal, can it?”
He blew air out through his lips and shrugged. “Normal? Who’s to say what’s normal and what isn’t?”
“Don’t get all philosophical on me, Dave, it doesn’t suit you.”
“I’m just saying…getting turned on by that scene doesn’t make you gay, it makes you human! I got turned on by it and I know I’m not a lesbian.”
“Oh for crying out loud—”
He laughed. “Okay, sorry, no more jokes. Look…honey…you were standing naked in front of a window, spying on a couple having sex, watching one of them have an orgasm, while your husband had his head between your legs. Hell I almost passed out myself!”
“So…you’re saying that it wasn’t that they were women…it was…a combination of everything?”
“Exactly. We ran to the wild side instead of walking and you got winded…that’s all. We should have worked up to it a bit first. Some soft porn, an erotic story or two.”
She chuckled and slapped his arm. “You promised no more jokes.”
“I’m sorry, okay? I just don’t think that losing consciousness is a symptom of congenital gayness.”
She let herself be hugged and wondered if he’d still think that way if he knew exactly what had been in her mind as she watched them.
The next few days passed by Diane without her really noticing. She went to work, made dinners…she dressed and showered and ate fast food…she functioned. But a part of her mind was busy elsewhere. She kept replaying that scene, over and over. She could see the contrast of the brunette’s dark hair against the blonde’s fair skin. She saw the muscles of her back tensing as her head moved slowly from side to side…and she had vivid flashes of all the things she couldn’t see that night. The brunette’s lips pressed tightly to the blonde’s most intimate places, her tongue caressing her, disappearing inside of her…
She explained away the periodic shudders and flushed cheeks, telling her co-workers that she was coming down with something. They were worried.
Now she was enjoying her second day of sick leave, lying flat on her back in bed and staring out the bedroom window at the afternoon sky.
She heard Dave enter the house and toss his car keys on the stand by the door.
“Honey? How you feeling?”
She could hear him heading her way, his feet making shushing noises on the hallway carpet. “I’m okay,” she called to him. “Just lying down.”
Her stomach started tying itself up in knots as he got closer. When he popped his head into the room and smiled at her, she thought for a moment that she might throw up.
“Can I get you anything?”
She just shrugged and looked down at her hands, which were crossed on her chest.
He chuckled. “Man, it looks like you’ve been laid out for a memorial service.” He came into the room. “That is not how you lay in bed on a paid sick leave.” He jumped onto the bed beside her. Waiting a moment for the bed to settle on its frame again, he crossed his arms behind his head and rested one ankle on the opposite knee. “This is how you lay in bed on a paid sick leave. You gotta enjoy it.” He took a deep breath and smiled up at the ceiling. “Think I’d have to cut off a foot before my boss would pay me to stay home.”
She smiled at him. “One of the perks of a government job.”
“One of the many.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek before settling back into his previous position. “So…are you feeling any better?”
She shrugged again. “I’m fine.”
“You could ‘a fooled me. You’re not exactly your normal babbly self.”
“I don’t babble. I converse.”
“I stand corrected.”
They lay side by side for a while.
Finally Dave sighed, “You’re still freaked out about the other night, aren’t you?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Only to me.”
“What…” she smiled. “Because you love me so much?”
“Nope…cause I’m the only one who knows about the other night.”
“Ah, yes…there is that.”
“And,” he moved over and slipped his arm beneath her head, pulling her toward him, “because I love you so much.”
She rested her head against his chest and sighed. “I love you, too.”
“So? Talk to me.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“So don’t talk, just…think out loud.”
“That’s called talking, Dave.”
He grinned and pulled her closer. “I love it when you get all logical.”
She smiled and shook her head, enjoying the feel of his flannel workshirt on her cheek. “I don’t understand why you’re not freaked out about this, too.”
“Because I know you.”
“I don’t even feel like I know me right now.”
“Okay look, even if, worst case scenario, it was the women who turned you on, and not the whole voyeurism thing…that makes you bi, not gay. Because I know from first-hand experience that men turn you on as well…even if you don’t tend to pass out.”
She grunted, sounding unconvinced.
“Well am I wrong about that?”
“No…you’re not wrong.”
“Wow. That was convincing.” He sounded uncertain for the first time.
Diane lifted her head and looked him in the eye. “You’re not wrong. Okay? I promise you.”
He frowned a bit and then nodded. “Okay.”
“It’s just that…”
“What?”
“You’re right, I am attracted to men, and turned on by them…and the thought of giving up certain…attributes…” She shook her head. “Well, let’s just say I wouldn’t and leave it at that—”
“You’re talking about my penis, aren’t you?”
She laughed sharply, pressing her face into his chest. “Oh my God…” She could feel his chest shake as he laughed silently along with her. When they had both recovered somewhat, she felt him kiss the top of her head.
“Sorry, I interrupted you. I assume you were heading for a but?”
She nodded. “I wouldn’t give up certain things.” She glanced up at him, almost daring him to make another comment.
He plastered an innocent look on his face and kept his mouth shut.
“But…I don’t think it was just the…the scenario. It was them. You know? They were so beautiful and…and…” She shook her head, not knowing what she was trying to say, and then lowered it back down to his chest. She felt his arm tighten around her.
“And…you wanted to join them, not just watch.”
After a few seconds, she nodded. “Yeah.”
“Hmm,” his hand was making comforting little circles on her back. “Is it wrong that I’m turned on by that?”
She squeezed her eyes shut and sighed loudly, trying not to get mad. “Why can’t you take this seriously?”
He was quiet for a long time. Finally, he kissed her hair and said, very quietly, “Because I’m scared, too, alright? I don’t want to lose you.”
She rested her chin against his chest and looked up at him. “You won’t.” Their eyes locked for a long time and she could see doubt lingering in his expression. “Look, no matter what I am, bi or straight or…or whatever. I’m in love with you.”
He smiled weakly at her. “Yeah.”
“Yeah. That’s why I married you.”
“Then,” he looked away, biting his lip, “then why are you so freaked out? If it’s not about us—”
“It’s about me, Dave. Okay? That’s all. I keep thinking…what if I spend the rest of my life not knowing? I’m not worried that I’ll stop wanting you. It’s just,” she shook her head. “I’m just scared that if I never know…if I’m always wondering…it’ll affect our relationship, and I don’t want anything to do that.”
He sighed again, resting his arm across her shoulders and holding her close. “Man, who knew spying on our neighbours having sex would be a bad thing?”
She smiled. “It’s shocking really.”
“So, what do you want to do?”
“You mean, other than the neighbours?”
He laughed. “Yes, other than the neighbours.”
“I have no idea.” She thought she could actually hear his eyebrow raising.
“No idea? Why don’t I believe you?”
She chewed on her lip for a moment, trying to build up her nerve. “Well…maybe one.”
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Chapter 3
Getting my Jolies
I just found out that I’m a cliché and I hate it. Really. I mean, I’ve long suspected that I was gay and didn’t really have a problem with it. Yes, I knew that I would have to find some hidden font of courage and sass if I was ever to do anything with that knowledge. And yes, I knew that if I didn’t, I’d be destined to spend the rest of my life saying, Oh yeah, baby, I love it…it’s so big and hard and oh my God I’m…oooohhhhhh! which, I have to admit, was not exactly my idea of a dream come true.
But still…Angelina Jolie? I mean, come on. Why don’t I just put on my Birkenstocks, tuck my denim shirt into my baggy shorts and go strolling on the beach with my leg hair rustling in the breeze? Actually, I think I just described Vanessa, a girl from my book club who I’ve secretly had a crush on for over a year. But somehow I had hoped to be with her—not be her, if you can see the difference.
What is it with that actress that makes us all roll over panting and drooling like Pavlovian puppies? Is it the lips? The eyes? The attitude? The way her ass looks in those tight little Tomb Raider shorts? Surely to God it isn’t the necklace filled with Billie Bob Thornton’s blood around her neck. If there has ever been a more hetero-disturbed image in the history of man, I don’t know what it is.
I thought somehow it would pass me by, that weird obsession, which is seemingly built right into our lesbionic DNA. But I was wrong. I woke up this morning with my face buried in my pillow and was shocked and disappointed to discover that it wasn’t, in fact, her welcoming bosom.
I fought desperately to get back into the broken dreamscape…just to tell her I wasn’t interested, of course. To ask her—who the hell does she thinks she is, luring us all into stereotypicality with her oozing sex appeal and kick-ass vibe?
And if I had to wear her out first in order to make her truly listen, then I was willing to do so. It was my duty really. I owed it to the sisterhood.
I owed them the hours of deep tissue massage.
I owed them kisses.
I owed them intimate touches that would leave my fingers so well used and worn out that even making a fist would hurt for a week.
Such was my dedication to the sisterhood.
And when it was over—the echoes of her final passionate cries settling like dust on the pillows…and she lay, near tears, in a panting crumpled ball, harder spent than your last nickel on a homeless busker with a pleading air—I’d explain to her the sacrifice I had just made, for the good of the cause.
I’d explain the effect that she has on us, and with convincing eloquence, ask her to cut it the hell out. That was my plan.
Of course, when I tried to get back into the dream, Angelina Jolie had somehow transmogrified into Maya Angelou and, while the bosom was still welcoming, my heart was no longer in it.
It’s just so annoying. I have to do something. Really. I may be in the closet, but I refuse to share that closet with such an uninspired fantasy.
Maybe I should look at it from another angle. See the good in it. Maybe that dream was a wakeup call. Maybe it was my subconscious mind telling me that it’s time to piss or get off the pot. Either break up with Donald, the wonder penis, and find myself a girl, or finally take those acting lessons in the hopes of adding sincerity to my ooohs and ahhhhs. I owe him that much at least. He did put me through bartender school and the tips are fantastic.
Chapter 4
Jewels
I had known Jewels for almost fifteen years, and had loved her for most of that time, but I wasn’t sure how she was going to react. I mean, I knew that she had experimented a little in college, with Stephanie—a teaching assistant from her palaeontology class—but she had never given me any sort of indication that I inspired in her the same sort of staggering passion she had experienced way back then.
To hear her talk of her time with Stephanie, you’d have thought the T.A. had some sort of Indiana Jones meets the Relic Hunter appeal. I’ve seen pictures of Stephanie and, frankly, I would rather have slept with Harrison Ford.
If you knew me at all, you’d know what a statement that is.
Stephanie Moore was frail looking, with a mousy flop of hair and thick glasses that made her look like a barn owl. She wore large sweaters that hid any attributes she may, or may not, have possessed. She was thirty-eight years old for crying out loud! And okay, I’m pushing forty myself, but this was almost twenty years ago and Jewels was only eighteen at the time.
Apparently they’d spent an entire semester seeking out hidden corners and private rooms, any place they could find to devour each other like starving sex monkeys. That’s my image of course, not Jewels’. When she describes those times, she uses words like longing and hunger and well…for whatever reason, sex monkeys is what springs to mind when I think of them. Don’t hold that against her.
At any rate, eventually Stephanie moved on. Apparently, hidden beneath her lacklustre exterior, there was a…I’m reluctant to use the term sex monkey again…let’s say a passionate woman waiting to be let out, and not satisfied to stay with one palaeontology student for too long. Crushed and heartbroken, Jewels swore off women and settled down shortly thereafter with a rather dull fellow named Daniel who, at least at first, seemed to make her happy. They married right out of college and stayed that way until about a month ago.
It had been a very hard month for her, a month preceded by years of unacknowledged but irreconcilable differences which had made her life with Daniel only barely survivable.
And I’d had to sit back and watch it all, the supportive friend offering nothing more than kind words and the occasional shoulder for her to cry on. It wasn’t easy. There had been times when I feared I would explode, or spontaneously combust, if I didn’t say something, do something…anything to let her know the way I felt; the way she made me feel. But the risk of losing her friendship always stopped me, forming into a little knot of unsaid words in the pit of my stomach.
It wasn’t a constant thing, thank God. I don’t think I could have survived those years if it had been. There were times when I was distracted by other more attainable loves and I would forget about that side of our friendship—the side that left me lying awake at night, thinking about what it would be like to touch her skin or feel her hair against my cheek. For months at a time, she would become my sister, my confidant, my best friend. She was always my best friend, regardless of how I was feeling about her romantically at the time. She was Jewels. And I loved her.
I call her Jewels. To everyone else she’s simply Jules…short for Julie. How boring. How short-sighted. Everything about her shines; her hair, her eyes, her smile…even her skin seems to attract the light, drawing it in to play along the gentle lines and curves, to ripple dancing over the small firm muscles beneath its surface.
Sorry, I took a poetry class my first and only year of college and it left me with the constant need to wax poetic, without the necessary skills to do so effectively. I can’t help it. I’m in love. I have been for years and this morning I knew it was time. She needed to hear it.
“I’m in love with you, Jewels. I have been for…I don’t know. Forever it seems like.”
Jewels just sort of looked at me. Her mouth was open slightly and I stared at the small sliver of white teeth between her lips. She saw me looking. She closed her lips abruptly and sort of shook her head, not in negation, but as if to snap herself out of the state of shock.
“I…uh…hmm.”
Jewels is normally quite articulate.
I moved back a couple of steps and leaned against her kitchen counter, hoping that the added distance, and my own casual posture, would put her more at ease. It didn’t work. Maybe she could sense that beneath my calm exterior my heart was racing and I was finding it slightly difficult to breathe. She turned away suddenly and got a bag of Oreos from the cupboard. I saw that her hands were shaking as she struggled to open it.
“You need a hand with that?” I asked lamely.
“I’ve got it thanks,” she said, as the little red bendy thing that held the bag securely closed unfolded from the seam and went flying across the room.
“Okay, no problem.” She sat down at the kitchen table and bit an Oreo in half, staring across the room at me as if trying to figure out who the hell I was and why I’d made her eat cookies for breakfast.
“You’re in love with me.”
“Yup.”
“Hmm.” She nodded slowly and took another bite.
“Good cookie?”
“Not bad.”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. For lack of something better to do, I took down two glasses, poured us each a glass of milk from the plastic jug in the fridge and sat down across from her at the table. “Here. Just like Grandma used to make.”
“Your Grandmother made milk?”
I considered my answer for a moment. Milk and cookies were definitely a grandma-like snack, but somehow, when phrased as her question had been, I couldn’t help shuddering at an unpleasant mental picture. Flustered, I suppressed a grin and fell back on a well-used answer between us. “Shut up.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” She kept her tone light, but I could hear the tension underneath it. “You tell me you love me and then tell me to shut up. No wonder you’re still single.”
“I’m still single because I’ve been in love with a married woman.”
“She’s not married anymore,” she said quickly before realizing the implications. When she did, she looked down and attacked another Oreo.
“Hence the revelation.”
She smiled uncomfortably, around the crumbs, and muttered, “Hence,” under her breath.
A very long and uncomfortable silence followed. It’s amazing how the sound of crunching Oreo cookies can fill an entire room. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, I said her name and waited for her to look at me. She didn’t. Her face looked strained, her back held rigidly straight.
“Do you want me to go?”
She shrugged, absentmindedly flicking cookie crumbs onto the floor and biting her lip, apparently unable to even look at me. I felt sick, like my heart was trying to crawl into my throat and fall into my stomach at the same time.
“I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you.” I waited a moment, but she didn’t disagree. “I’ll go.” I stood up, took a few steps toward the door and then jumped as Jewels slammed her hand down on the bag of cookies in a somewhat destructive act of frustrated release.
“Damn it, Kim! I don’t want you to go!” Her voice cracked slightly, whether from anger, fear or frustration at her own inability to decide, I couldn’t tell. “Not like this…I just don’t know what you want me to say! What am I supposed to do? You’re my best friend and all of a sudden you drop this bomb on me and I don’t know what to think, you know?”
I nodded, but held my tongue, not wanting to do anything that might make the situation harder on her or on myself. It was killing me seeing her so upset, more so because I knew I was the cause.
Jewels leaned back in her chair, looking so completely decimated that I wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. When she spoke, her voice was smaller than I had ever heard it.
“How could you fall in love with me?”
At that point I couldn’t help going to her. Romantic love aside, this woman was my best friend. She had seen me through some of the hardest times in my life. When I’d gotten the letter from my parents asking, politely, that I not contact them again since, clearly, I was not the daughter they had raised, she had held me in her arms and let me cry.
When Michelle, my first real girlfriend at twenty-six, decided she was leaving me to return to her husband, she took me out, got me drunk, and made all the right jokes about Michelle’s flabby ass and sloppy housekeeping—forcing me to look forward to a future without her. Almost.
And when I had no one else, no girlfriend, no parents, not even co-workers I could turn to for support, she went with me to my brother’s funeral and stood beside me, proudly, as people stared and whispered, in loud voices, about how disgusting I was for bringing one of my women to such an event.
It was Jewels sitting there, my best friend, and she was trying not to cry.
I was crouching beside her before I was even conscious of having moved. Tentatively, I laid my hand on her shoulder. “Shh…please…don’t cry, okay?” She wouldn’t look at me, or she couldn’t. But she also didn’t pull away. Regardless of everything that had happened, I was her best friend, too, and to do so would have been beyond her. She just sat there fighting back tears.
“I don’t want anything from you. I swear it. I just…” I looked down at the patterned tile floor and saw it shimmer as my own eyes filled with tears. “I just had to let you know. I couldn’t keep pretending it wasn’t true. Especially now.”
“Because of my divorce? Because he’s gone and now maybe you have a shot with me, is that it?” The sadness in her voice lessened the hurt of those words somewhat.
“It’s not about that, Jewels.”
Finally, she did look at me. Her dark brown eyes were swimming in tears and, as I watched, one broke free and rolled slowly down her cheek. “Are you sure? Because it might be true. You’re my best friend. You’re beautiful, and…and we both know I’m capable of it. Maybe you figure this is your chance. Catch her while she’s vulnerable.” She looked into my eyes. “It could even work.”
I held my breath for a moment. My emotions and thoughts were all over the place. I was hurt and angry that she could think I was just a predator waiting to take advantage of her in a moment of weakness; and scared that somewhere, deep down, there might be a grain of truth. I found hope in the fact that she hadn’t shot the idea down as an impossibility, but at the same time I was worried that, if it did happen, I would never know if the only reason it had was because I had caught her in a moment of weakness.
“Is that what you think? That I’ve just been waiting for an opportunity? Maybe all these years I’ve been looking for excuses to be close to you, crying on your shoulder and copping a feel, right?” Of all the emotions rumbling around, anger was apparently winning out. I took my hand off her shoulder but didn’t move away. A part of me knew that if I did, I’d be closing a door for good, not just on a possible romantic future, but on our friendship as well, and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing that.
“I told you, I don’t know what to think.” She was studying my face now, as if searching for simpler moments in the lines around my eyes and mouth. “I know you’re not like that. I know those moments were real, but…the timing, it’s…” She was searching for the word.
I supplied it. “Convenient.”
“Yeah. He’s only been gone a few weeks, Kim.”
“He’s been gone a lot longer than that and you know it. How long has it been since you’ve felt like a couple? Since you made love to him? You told me once that it was like living with a stranger. That you thought you’d go out of your mind if you couldn’t touch someone, be touched by someone.”
Jewels looked away then, as if embarrassed and betrayed by her own admission. She remembered the night of that confession as clearly as I did, I was sure.
Months ago, the two of us had gotten drunk in my basement, watching lame late-night TV and talking about our lives. Jewels was upset about her marriage, like she had been for years it seemed. Her husband never touched her, and when he did, it just left her cold. She didn’t love him anymore, and sometimes wondered how she ever had…if she ever had. It had been months since they had even attempted lovemaking and then it had been a disaster. He had rolled over and fallen asleep after a half-hearted effort that left them feeling miles apart.
“He still came of course. It’s so easy for them. He wasn’t even paying attention! I might as well have not been in the room…and then I lay there watching him sleep, thinking what the hell is wrong with me?”
She had been tense and horny, and so worked up by the end of that evening that she would have pounced on the sixteen-year-old pizza boy if he had looked at her warmly, or the pizza boy’s mom for that matter.
But I hadn’t done anything. I hadn’t made a move—because she was my friend and it would have been wrong. Remembering that night, I knew I was no predator. That part, at least, I could stop worrying about.
My reason for telling her now, instead of the hundreds of other times when I bit my lip and kept it to myself, was simple. And I hoped she would understand.
“I could have had my chance with you long before this and we both know it.” I looked into her eyes and took some comfort in the fact that she didn’t disagree. “This isn’t about convenience, or about your divorce, or even about us having a chance at all. The reason I’m telling you now is because you need to hear it now.” I sighed and shook my head. “Since he left…it’s like you’ve been hollow. Like you’ve accepted somehow that no one could ever love you…just because that idiot didn’t appreciate what he had.” I reached out and cupped her cheek in my hand, unable to stop myself. “Do you have any idea how hard that is to watch? To sit back, knowing how I feel about you, and let you believe that he was right not to love you because you’re lacking something? Something that everyone else has?”
I looked into her eyes and saw that she wanted to believe me, but was afraid to. I looked down at the floor, unable to be articulate and look into her eyes at the same time.
“You have it, Jewels. Okay? Whatever that special thing is that makes us loved, you have it…that’s why I told you now. Not so you’d love me…but so you’d know that you are loved. Okay?” I looked back up and met her eyes, pressing my hand against her cheek and giving her an almost imperceptible shake.
She started to cry then for real, silently blinking as her eyes filled and overflowed. She didn’t say anything as I reached out, gently wiping her face with the sleeve of my sweater, which I’d pulled down over my free hand.
“Hey,” I said softly. “It’s nothing to cry about you know. Nothing has to change.” I let my sleeve fall back into place and held her face between my hands. “Nothing. Okay?”
She nodded hesitantly and let out a slow shaking breath that smelled faintly of Oreos. I smiled at her then, relieved to see a trace of the old Jewels shining through the tears, and gave her head another little shake, “You’re my best friend you big dope.” She chuckled wetly and I grinned at her, leaning in, planning to give her a kiss on the cheek, just like old times.
And then she kissed me.
It only lasted a few moments, but in that time everything changed, the whole world it seemed. When she pulled away and looked into my eyes, I could see it—hope. It was hidden fairly well beneath layers of fear, shock, and an incredibly endearing shyness, but it was there.
“Uh…whoops,” she said and sort of shrugged one shoulder. “Guess I gotta work on that impulse control problem, huh?”
Shock, confusion and a sort of giddy excitement made my heart speed up and I grinned hugely at her. “I’ll give you ten dollars not to.”
She blushed and looked away. “So…what was that you were you saying about change?”
“I can’t remember…maybe that it’s a good thing…sometimes.” My voice trailed off as I stared at her, openly, for the first time. For so long I had watched her from behind a curtain of sorts. It hid thoughts and feelings I was afraid that she would see.
When I watched the way the sunlight played across her hair, she just saw me admiring her haircut, or wondering what conditioner she used. She never saw the hunger I had to run my fingers through its length.
That curtain was lifted now as I stared at her lips. I wanted to feel them pressed against my own again, and I didn’t care if it showed. It was a wonderful feeling of freedom. And regardless of the result, I was glad I had told her.
“Kim,” she said quietly “I don’t know…about any of this.”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then composed myself and nodded at her. “I know that. It’s okay.”
She frowned. “Is it? Now that I know…I mean, I know about you, but…but I don’t really know about me yet. Do you understand?”
“I think so. You need to get used to the idea. Try it on for size, right?”
A small embarrassed grin turned up the corners of her mouth. “Something like that I guess.”
She was willing to try on the idea! I bit my lip to keep from grinning hopefully at her again.
“But I can’t promise anything. I mean, it’s been years since…”
I completed the thought for her. “Stephanie.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“Yes, you were.”
“No…It’s been years since I’ve been with anyone but Dan. Not since college.”
“Not since Stephanie.”
She sighed loudly. “You never let me forget about her, do you.”
“Would you, if you were me?” She smiled shyly at that, but didn’t answer, so I continued. “Could you have anyway?”
She leaned back in her chair and thought about it for a long moment. She shook her head. “No. There were nights with Dan when…” She shook her head and let her voice trail off.
“When you wished he was her?”
“Not wished. Imagined maybe. A bit.”
I sighed and made myself ask her the question I had always wanted to ask. “So, was it only her? Was there just something about her that made you forget you aren’t attracted to women? Or did she somehow allow yourself to admit that you were?”
Her thoughts on the subject were interrupted by the rattle of mail being dropped through the slot in her front door. She looked at me for a moment and then stood up and walked into the hall. I followed. “You’re not answering the question.”
She turned to face me. “I’m not sure what the answer is.”
“Well figure it out!” I smiled at her, trying to lighten a serious request. “It’s kind of an important distinction.”
She leaned her back against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest. I leaned against the opposite wall, facing her and mirroring her pose. I couldn’t quite keep the grin off my face, confident now that, no matter what happened, our friendship was still solid.
“Well?”
“You want to know if I’m attracted to you.”
It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t answer her. I just raised my eyebrows at her and waited for her to continue.
“I don’t know how to answer that.”
I laughed. “You know, Jewels, for such an insightful individual, you seem to be surprisingly clueless this morning.”
She chuckled. “Must be all those cookies. Not exactly brain food.”
“That’s very true.” I nodded solemnly. “Well then, by all means, take your time.” I settled myself more comfortably against the wall, as if patiently preparing for a long wait.
She sighed, clearly unimpressed with my performance but still moderately amused. “To answer your question…” She tilted her head to one side and looked at me, considering. “Hmm…”
I felt myself blushing as her gaze travelled over me.
“I think…maybe…yes.”
“Yes?” She nodded shyly and I gave her a relieved smile.
“Really?”
“Sometimes. I mean not when you’ve been at work all day in that horrible uniform, looking all wrinkled and slumpy—”
“Slumpy?”
“But other times…when you’ve come over here right from the gym and your hair is sort of mussed up; or when you’re drunk and your cheeks get rosy—”
“So let me get this straight…you like me when I’m sweaty and when I’m drunk.” I chuckled at the embarrassed expression on her face. “Good thing I’m usually one or the other, huh?”
She laughed. “Well I never really thought about it before! Not in the context of ‘liking’ you. But there were times when I did notice how attractive you are. My attractive friend…you know. That’s all.”
“Oh.”
“But I didn’t like anyone while I was married. I couldn’t. I wanted to make it work and admitting, even to myself, that I was attracted to someone, male or female, just wasn’t an option. I mean how would it have looked if I was attracted to you when I wasn’t even attracted to Dan?”
“Would have looked like you were a lesbian.”
“That’s right.”
We grinned at each other then. I leaned my head back against the wall and looked at her. “Well you’re not married now so looking like a lesbian, if that is indeed what you are, isn’t a problem.”
“Not for you maybe.”
“I confess I have an ulterior motive in asking, but either way it’s a question you should be asking yourself. Whether or not it’s me, I assume you’re planning on dating again someday. The only people you’ve really been with are Dan and Stephanie. Sexually, which did you prefer?”
After considering the question for a few moments, she answered very reluctantly. “Overall, I’d have to say Stephanie.”
I looked down at my feet, completely unable to keep the grin off my face but not wanting her to see. “I see.”
“I mean, in the beginning, it was good with Dan. Really. He made me feel safe and loved and…I don’t know, female I guess. And I really liked that. He was the man and I could sort of follow his lead and just enjoy the ride. But after a while, it was like…like he was driving somewhere I didn’t want to go. Like I couldn’t even remember why I was in the car.”
“And with her?”
“It’s not a fair comparison. All I had with Stephanie was the beginning. Who knows what it would have been like if she hadn’t left. Maybe I would have gotten bored with her, too.”
I looked back up at her, shaking my head. “I don’t think so. You were with her a whole semester. That’s not twenty years sure, but when you’re eighteen that’s a long time. When you think back on it, don’t you ever wonder what it would be like to have that again? To feel that again?”