Chapter Two. In the chaos of my studio apartment I found the tour group update sheet for the coming week

In the chaos of my studio apartment I found the tour group update sheet for the coming week. The group was called LOVE. I felt stupid for not having seen the opening lines. The "Ladies" on Vacation Enterprises could also be "lesbians." The resort will see 312 female guests and their families in buildings A, B and E. Buildings C and D will be unoccupied; expect maintenance and carpet layers. Entertainment provided by LOVE. We are advised most are couples and should be treated as such. Male staff are cautioned to avoid the appearance of flirting or staring, and all staff are advised to be additionally sensitive to avoidance of sexual or sexist jokes, even in adult-only settings...

Three hundred and twelve lesbians. They were going to be the only guests we had. Okay, maybe most of them were in couples, but surely one of them might be interested in a short but trim, red-haired woman who, among other things, could improve their golf game. I realized I felt about as giddy as I had the one time I'd gone to the Dinah Shore Classic. This year's tournament had been just a few weeks ago, and if I could have afforded it I might have gone, pining for lesbian company as I was. How good was life that instead of my having to find a landscape of lesbians, they'd found me? Damn. Life was very good.

After a change of clothes, a losing battle with my hair and a quick pit stop at the lunch buffet for an apple, I headed for the other end of the resort toward the KidZone. Of course it was a longer route to go by reception on the way, but I couldn't resist.

I saw Dykes, with a capital D, Dykes and Dykes and Dykes. I felt like a kid at a picnic.

Hot Dykes, I like hot Dykes, I sang to myself. This kind of girl likes tasty hot Dykes. Fat ones, short ones, Dykes that climb on rocks. Femmie ones, butch ones, and maybe Dykes with strap-on co—

"Brandy, can you lend a hand with the queue?" Randall interrupted what I thought was an inspired commercial jingle for lesbian delights, but Randall had been put on this earth to squelch all the fun out of my life.

"I've got a couple of minutes before Rhea's expecting me."

I helped Sarah and Steffie from Sausalito find their room keys and explained the weekly calendar while reiterating their freedom to do whatever they liked.

"You mean we can just go down to the beach and get snorkeling gear any time?"

"When the snorkel hut is open, during these hours." I pointed out how to read the color coding. "And there are daily lessons at ten, so you might want to sign up to be sure to get a spot."

Linda and Libby from Lynchburg promised they'd meet me tomorrow for Morning Stretch. June and Jody from Juneau were eager to try sailing, while Deena and DeeDee from Dayton couldn't wait to stay in their room all week, nudge nudge. Then Mary and Tina from Spokane completely blew my alphabet fun, but they were dumping their bags in the room and heading for the nearest pool.

That's when I remembered that phrase from the weekly sheet: Most are in couples. Hell, they were all in couples, it seemed to me. It was a great jazz to have so many lesbians around me but so far I wasn't getting any heat from them. The heat was all on my side and I was certainly feeling it.

As I walked the rest of the way to the KidZone I pondered the ethical dilemma. I had few qualms about spending some quality moments with an entangled straight woman who sought me out and made the first definitive moves. But would I feel the same about an entangled lesbian? It seemed unsisterly to the other lesbian to fool around with her girlfriend, even if I had an engraved invitation to do so. Well, I would have to give that a lot of thought if the situation arose.

I hate ethical dilemmas and the older I got the more they dogged me, it seemed. At twenty I wouldn't have asked about entanglements. By the time I was thirty, I thought morosely, I'd be limiting myself to women who were looking for a commitment. How deadly dull that would be.

A small imp inside me wondered briefly what I would do if both women in a couple wanted to fool around, then realized the answer was a resounding Yes, Yes and Yes. Oh goodness, I didn't need to think about such things at that moment.

Then I remembered Celine Griffin, who as far as I knew was single, and thought maybe I didn't need to be worrying overmuch about my options for three-ways and stolen hours with roaming girlfriends. Maybe some open one-on-one dinner-dancing-flirting-lovemaking nights might be in my future. I wouldn't make the mistake of thinking it was the beginning of something, but it would be far more than I had had in a very long while.

One of the attractions of the Sandzibel property is daylong childcare, and though I liked kids, I did not envy the staff who worked there at all. For every great, curious, interesting kid there are two that snivel and cry about everything. And every sniveler had an overprotective mother who just wouldn't let the kid have fun. The programs were very safe, and well-staffed. We got bumps and bruises, and that included from the circus camp for the older kids, but that was all.

The sun was starting to heat up the cement near the lap pool, and sunbathers were slathering on the sun block. Saturdays were always a little different because the previous week's guests were allowed to linger, dine and use the facilities until they needed to depart for flights later in the day. The new guests would rub shoulders for a while with the old. Women were already pulling loungers side-by-side, and I shivered for a moment, anticipating the poolside landscapes of the coming week.

"We were here the wrong week," I heard one of the male guests say to his poolside chum. "Major babe-o-rama."

His buddy, obviously quicker on the uptake, said back, "Go ahead, hit on one. I'll sew you back together."

I kept my chuckle to myself and arrived at the KidZone security gate to find Rhea listening patiently to a mother explain how her ten-year-old darling shouldn't try tumbling at circus camp because he could break a nail or something.

Rhea, clad in shorts and a club T-shirt, didn't look as if she was waiting to hear that her dissertation, "Mutton on Monday: Deconstruction of Food in the Novels of Jane Austen," had been accepted at the University of Southern Florida and she could officially append Ph.D. to her name. The mother was particularly shrill and Rhea did have, around the edges, a look like she couldn't believe this was all an advanced English degree had brought her so far. She needed a break.

At least my college work was in phys. ed. and I was actually doing that for a living, sort of. As fun as it was, I acknowledged, this was ultimately a dead-end job. I was hoping, with my good evaluations, to get moved to non-U.S. locations and see more of the world. Tess said the lifespan of a guest services representative with Club Worldwide, Inc., was about six years. I realized that she had to be in about year five. I wondered, before two toddlers grabbed my knees, what that would mean for her. For our... friendship.

Then I realized I was thinking about career prospects, and not ten minutes earlier I'd been musing about commitment and relationships and ethical dilemmas. Three hundred lesbians and that's what they brought out in me? It was pathetic!

"Well, how about we let him try just today—he really wants to. Carly and Adam will keep a very close eye on him," Rhea was saying. "And this is Brandy, one of the tumbling instructors."

I nodded encouragingly. "It teaches confidence and balance and they all love it."

The boy in question chimed in with, "Please, Mom? I'll be careful."

Another woman I had thought belonged to a different kid spoke up. "Sweetie, he's old enough. And he'll feel rotten to sit out when everyone else is having fun. You and I can sit by the pool and have a daiquiri for the first time in eleven years. That's why we're here."

Moms, they were lesbian moms. I grinned ear to ear and felt a strange but pervasive sense of pride. Wow. My people were here this week, and some of them were moms.

I was set upon by the toddlers again, and this time I gave chase. We'd had a running battle all week and it was time to show these desperadoes who was the law. That would be me, Sheriff Monsoon.

I hadn't quite proven my superiority when their parents came to claim them for a last good-bye. One protested it wasn't Saturday yet, while the other said I was the best playmate ever. Rhea had eagerly headed over for her lunch, so I got the gooey parting hugs and smooches from several more of the kids before she got back. I have to say that part of the job is pretty cool. Kids give great hugs.

My hour ended, I went back for a more substantial lunch, passing Tess and others in the main pool lustily lampooning Titanic. Various superheroes were called on to save poor Kate Winslet (played convincingly by Tess) from Jaws, the Pool Shark. I always wanted Kate to save herself, but Alicia—trapeze artist extraordinaire—was a treat to view in a Wonder Woman costume. It was the boots and the bustier that always made me sigh.

When I realized most of the Ladies of LOVE were ogling Wonder Woman, too, I grinned so hard my face hurt.

This was going to be a fabulous week.

Mid-afternoon on the Florida Gulf Coast can be muggy, overcast and hot. The first Afternoon of the Lesbians, as Rhea had termed it earlier, was no exception. The front had moved in quickly, and would soon move on, but the low rumble of offshore thunder was probably the reason why nobody showed up for the two p.m. Body Pump class.

Nobody but Celine Griffin, that is.

"Not at all," I assured her when she asked if I minded doing a class for one. "I'd be happy to customize it for you. Is there any area you'd like to concentrate on this week?"

She regarded me with that clear blue-yellow stare. "What do you think?"

At one time that question would have thrown me into a regular tizzy. Few women or men like to be told their tummy or butt or thighs need toning. Diplomacy was required. Celine Griffin, however, wasn't just anybody. She was somebody I would seriously like to have dinner with later. More than dinner. Something better than diplomacy was needed.

I walked slowly around her while she regarded me with amused tolerance. "You've worked hard on your abs and glutes, it shows. How's your back—any pain or stiffness?"

"No, not since I added a rigorous ab routine to my workout."

"Your trainer is good. You've got great all-around tone. If you want, we could do squats and lunges after a general workout. Thighs primarily, but great for calves and lifting the glutes."

"At my age, my glutes can use all the lifting they can get."

"Great." I risked a direct look. She was smiling. Okay, then. On went the music, up went our weights and for the next twenty minutes we worked out without saying more than necessary. I knew she was forty-five and I'd done the math. Nineteen years older than I was. I hoped I looked that good at forty-five. I tried to picture myself nearly twenty years in the future and it was impossible. The only thing I knew was that I wouldn't be working at this job. Personal Trainer to the Stars had a nice ring to it. Maybe I'd invent some new fitness craze and make millions selling the DVDs, Brandy Monsoon's All-Weather Workout or something like that.

On my third set of French lifts, I wondered what Tess saw in her future. As if my thoughts had conjured her up, Tess arrived, her hair still wet from the pool games.

"I thought I'd see if you were free, but you're both working hard, aren't you?"

"She's a sadist," Celine muttered between grunts.

I grinned. Celine was loving every minute, I could tell. "We're about to start some Bosu lunges."

"I've had enough of those for the day," Tess said. She gave me an inquiring look. Celine turned to pick up her towel and I answered Tess with a shrug.

Tess hesitated and I remembered her earlier offer. That was before I knew about the arrival of LOVE and I was pretty sure I didn't need to bother her for... help. If it wasn't Celine Griffin it would be somebody. Tess nodded brightly, like she understood, but there was a flash of something else as she took leave of us. As excited as I was by the thought of spending a night with a lesbian doing very lesbian things, I felt the strangest pang watching Tess walk away.

Vividly in my head I could hear her voice from the first night we were together. "So," she had said, "you like to be teased."

I breathed out a choked yes and for the next hour Tess stroked, nibbled, massaged and brushed every inch of my body except my breasts, inner thighs and cunt. I was high on her attention and all of the sensation. My heart was pounding so hard my vision blurred. Part of the time she held me against the wall, then finally she let me stretch out on the bed. I don't know how long she swept my back with her hair but my breathing was so rapid I was dizzy.

"Brandy," she finally whispered, very tenderly. "I don't know when you've had enough. I can do this for a long time, and I'm loving it, but I need to you tell me when you want me to fuck you."

My entire body jerked in response. "Now, now," I stammered. I was so wet I could smell it. Nobody I'd ever been with had made me wait so long. Maybe, I had thought somewhat irrelevantly, if Tess was gay she wouldn't have been able to wait.

"Brandy?"

To my chagrin I realized Celine Griffin was looking at me expectantly. Hell, I'd forgotten where I was in the workout. I shouldn't be thinking about Tess, anyway. I realized I was wet, again, still, continuously it seemed today. "Sorry, I was thinking what would be best next. Bosu ball?"

"I have no idea what that is."

I showed her the half-dome workout balls and we practiced balancing on them. "You can just stand on the ball for five minutes and you won't believe how many little muscles you have to use. Using them will help them define and compact."

"This is amazing," she agreed. "I bet I'm sore tomorrow. Especially my feet."

"Sign up for a massage," I suggested.

Celine gave me a look that made something deep down inside me clench. "Do you give massages?"

"Not officially," I said, then I firmly directed her into lunges. My entire body was screaming loudly that I wanted to get horizontal, vertical, diagonal, perpendicular, it didn't matter, as long as we both got very thoroughly satisfied, but I didn't want her to know that. Yet.

We were both drenched by the end of the forty-five-minute workout. "Be sure to drink a lot of water while you're here. The humidity just soaks it out of you and dehydration can level you in less than a day."

"Thanks." She slung a towel around her neck, and it framed her collarbone. We stared at each other and I felt next to naked. When I picked up my Bosu ball to stow in the large locker, she followed suit.

I leaned into the locker to get the ball into the best position so the door would close. The locker was large enough for mats and barbells, but the Bosu balls were stressing its limits.

A wave of tingling goose pimples swept over me as Celine leaned in too, her body the length of mine. In my ear she said, "Here's the other one."

I shuddered. Her pelvis rocked against my ass. Part of me couldn't believe this was happening—Celine Griffin!—while the rest of me had stopped thinking at all. I choked back a moan but couldn't stop my hips from moving in response to her.

The open door sheltered us temporarily and Celine had no doubt noticed that. Again, her low voice melted into my ear. "I think I'm not the only one who'd like a massage."

We strained against each other for several heartbeats, then I moaned and pushed back against her. She was rolling my muscle shirt up my body and my sport bra went with it. I felt a pang of alarm and stiffened, then her hands lifted both of my breasts so that her fingers could pull firmly on my bare nipples.

I moaned, loudly, and, completely stunned, I felt a clenching inside my cunt that was very close to climax. First Paige, and now being touched by someone who obviously knew her way around a willing female body—I was in a serious state of need.

I had all my weight on my hands and I didn't want her to stop, but just as the inner "you're gonna lose your job, you idiot," alarms got loud enough for me to hear she was rolling my bra and shirt back down and stepping away.

My knees nearly buckled. I took several deep breaths, aware that I was blushing, hard, but finally I turned to face her.

"Have dinner with me," she said. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

It was just lust, I told myself, looking at those amazing yellow-ringed blue eyes. Lust was fine with me. "I'm free at six-thirty, then there are skits and introductions at eight."

"Oh, I'd forgotten about the greeting falderal." She gave me a somewhat sheepish look. "And I have to have dinner with the tour people. I'm tour group staff, technically. I'd forgotten about that, too. What about a drink at ten?"

"That would be... great."

She stepped closer and I couldn't breathe. "You are the hottest woman I've seen in a long time. I intend to seduce you."

With a slow blink I hoped looked sultry or sexy or alluring or anything except achingly needy, I said, "You already have."

She was pleased. It showed in her eyes. "Until ten, then. What do you drink?"

"Whatever you're pouring."

"How do you like your sex?"

"With women." I was feeling more confident by the minute.

"I presumed that." She moved so close that her lips were nearly on mine. The thunder was moving closer. "I can cook in a wide range, but only what's on your menu."

I realized what she was asking and I didn't think I could pull off the sophistication of a string of acronyms and code words like in a personal ad.

My hesitation I'm sure spoke volumes, because she quickly added, "Given the reaction of that woman this morning, I do find it hard to believe you're not a little bit adventurous."

I blushed. "I, um—I'm not shy, but I'm not edgy either. Pain is a turnoff."

Her lips twitched. "Considering the workout you just put me through, I wouldn't have said that."

I laughed a little. "That's not the kind of pain I mean. There's nothing alarming about... stretching. Sensation is different from pain."

She nodded and all the humor left her eyes. I felt as if she were peeling me open. "I like to be in control, Brandy. That's what I'm trying to say. Will that be difficult for you?"

I sighed with some relief. "No. It should be okay. As long as..." I blushed.

"Finish the thought," she said firmly. "It's important."

"As long as I get to touch you back. That's, like, half the deal for me."

She laughed her lovely, throaty laugh, warm and truly amused. "Half the deal for me, too. I may be a bit of a top, but I'm not stone."

I joined her in laughter, and my foolish heart felt a twinge that was wholly inappropriate to the situation. Celine Griffin would leave next Saturday and I would still be here. But laughing with her, feeling at ease even when I was completely turned on and distracted by visions of me on her bed, it felt wonderful. We spoke each other's language, and though many of my fellow staffers were fun and friendly, the other gay staffers were all men. Tess was the only one I really let go with, in laughter. And in sex, I reminded myself. Laughter and sex—there wasn't much more to happiness than that.

"I have to shower and change," I said reluctantly. "And then I have another hour at KidZone and a fitness staff meeting."

"Work's a bitch, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but it beats being unemployed."

It was very awkward for just a moment and I admitted to myself that I didn't quite know what to do. We'd agreed to have sex later, but how did I say good-bye until then? Pretend European casualness with a cheery au revoir? Shaking hands was right out.

Experience must have rewards, because Celine did exactly the right thing. She picked an imaginary hair off my shirt, then smoothed her hand lightly down my front. "Until later, then. I am looking forward to tonight with you." At least it was the right thing until she added, "I'm sure it will be memorable."

She walked away and I pondered why I felt a sudden chill. Wasn't a night of abandoned sex with Celine Griffin—bona fide lesbian—what I wanted? And wasn't it a little bit late to be wondering what constituted "memorable" for her? Did I want to be merely memorable? It had seemed more than enough with Paige and the many like her, but with another dyke... why did that seem inadequate?

I was halfway back to my quarters when the thunder broke overhead. Rain hissed over the concrete and landscaping, feeling wonderful on my skin. I was thinking too much, I decided. Fuck now, think later.

As far as my schedule went, it had been a typical Saturday. Randall spent the fitness staff meeting explaining how expensive the equipment was, then airing two complaints from the previous week. The first simply said that "that girl who teaches aerobics is rude." That narrowed it down to four of us, but none of us was taking credit. Any chance remark might have been taken the wrong way. Usually when I meant to be rude, I made sure people remembered my name.

The other complaint was that the music in the fitness center was too loud. We all blamed the volume on guests. Yes, we solemnly agreed that from now on if we observed that the music was too loud, we would turn it down to a manageable level. I recalled how the loud music that morning had covered the sounds Paige and I had made. Randall caught me smiling and treated me like a four-year-old by making me say, "Yes, sir, I think complaints are important."

"Not a word about the other two hundred people in our program last week, none of whom complained," I muttered to Tess as we left.

"I've heard a delicious rumor that Randall is getting transferred to Barbados."

"Oh, that would be great, not that he deserves it. Except with my luck I'd get transferred there, too."

Tess stopped walking for a moment. Village Square was just beyond us, and the early evening gathering of guests before dinner was underway. "Do you want to get transferred?"

"Eventually," I said. "I took this job to see the world, remember?"

"Yeah," Tess said. "I was just checking that you hadn't changed your mind." She abruptly hurried again toward the dining room. "There won't be any chocolate bread left."

"Especially with so many women here this week." So many lovely women, I thought, skirting women holding hands with each other or their children.

"Hola, Brandy," I heard from several of the kitchen staff as I slipped in to see if there was more spinach to fill the empty bowl at the salad bar. If not, I'd settle for romaine.

Cruz, who lived with his elderly mother and two equally elderly aunts, handed me a small bowl of freshly cut pineapple chunks, which I adore. From what I could follow in Spanish, he was saying thank you for my taking the time to write down some simple exercises that might help his mother's recently sprained ankle. I saw Jesus heading to the front with a fresh bowl of spinach and followed him quickly out of the kitchen before Rudy—prima donna master chef—saw me.

Tess had settled at a remote table where more staff people would eventually gather. We were free to dine with guests and otherwise mingle, but Saturdays the food was a little bit better than usual, while time was short before we were all required to be on hand for introductions. I scarfed down the raw spinach topped with ahi warmed in a basil marinade, then dug into the chocolate bread. "Thanks for not stealing my bread."

"You're welcome," Tess answered. There was no honor when it came to chocolate bread. She pointed with her fork as she munched on chicken and broccoli. "This week's tour staff. Those are the owners in the lead, and some of the entertainers. Well, I think you already know that, don't you?"

I followed her gesture and saw a party of eight women—my gaydar pinged eight distinct times, which felt wonderful—to a private table in the corner. One of them was Celine Griffin.

"So," Tess said brightly. "Got a date yet?"

"Tonight," I answered. I studied Celine's elegant, lean figure before she disappeared into the general manager's dining room, and remembered the feel of her along my back. My entire body goose-pimpled.

"That didn't take long."

I glanced at Tess, and then blushed in response to Tess's knowing look. "We, um, settled things earlier."

"I thought you might." Tess's expression was exceedingly cheerful. "You seemed to be clicking."

"I hope we do."

"I meant it," she said. "I'd..."

I realized what Tess was referring to, and I wasn't sure why she was bringing it up. "I know you would. I didn't want to bother... I mean, since Celine is... "

"More than capable, I'm sure. And your type. I understand." Tess took a big bite out of her slice of chocolate bread.

I felt confused but I didn't know why, which just confused me more. I tried to lighten the air with a jest. "Well, whether she's my type remains to be seen, I guess."

"Just be safe, okay? I've got to shower and change," she announced, pushing back her chair. She wrapped the rest of her dessert in a napkin. "Did you want to demo stretching tonight?"

I nodded, taken aback by her abrupt departure. Tess was telling me to be safe? That was usually my line to her. "Yeah, it's easiest."

"I imagine the women will like it," Tess added. To my relief she was smiling in her usual way.

"I imagine." I winked at her and she looked about to say something, then headed off at high speed toward the dining room's rear exit.

I noticed more than one head turning as Tess went by. Men had always drooled over Tess, but this time there were several women with their tongues out and I felt very strange, very strange indeed.

I'd had time to shower earlier so didn't have to hurry anywhere before the evening entertainment. Clad in my usual Club Sandzibel muscle shirt, black biking shorts, club blue socks and white cross-trainers, I queued up with the other staffers in the main hall where all guests would gather for the orientation to the club and introductions. I was planning to slip in to see the pianist-singer-comic who would perform. We were all getting quite a treat, being entertained instead of the other way around. Celine Griffin was doing standup on Friday. It would be more lesbian-specific entertainment than I'd seen in the past half-decade.

Tess arrived just in time, her hair slightly damp at her scalp, but otherwise looking elegant as always. The lights went down as Randall, general manager and all-around jerk, took the stage.

In the dark I let myself think about what the night would be like with Celine Griffin. Sex was on my mind and it was hard to stop considering it. I realized then that Tess's light, sexy cologne was wafting from her and I was practically taking hits off of it. I abruptly wanted Tess to pull me into the nearest private room and have me. I was wet and I could again hear her saying, "So, you like to be teased."

It was Celine I was going to be with, not Tess. Celine was a lesbian. Tess was straight. Damned good in bed, sensitive, caring, compassionate, loyal, Tess was a friend. A buddy. Not a lesbian. I recalled with a shiver that shook my composure how I had choked out my begging plea that first night. I'd had enough teasing and I needed her inside me.

She had fucked me from behind, with her fingers. I'd come fast and hard, my ears ringing with my choking moans, then felt her part my swollen lips with the tip of my favorite toy. She slid it inside me and muscles I hadn't known I had gave way with a gush of wet that made Tess gasp out, "Yes, you like that, don't you?"

I put my face in the pillows and spread my knees so I could take the toy deep. Tess paused for a moment when I groaned.

"Do you like it all the way in?"

"Yes, don't stop!"

"Hard? Or slower?"

"Slower, but all the way."

Her hair was on my back and it felt fabulous. We moved together for a long time and I became increasingly incoherent. Tess was going to take care of me, and it was as good as I'd ever had. As good as anyone had ever felt inside me. It was the same toy as always, I thought with bemusement. Same toy and yet Tess made it different. Better, somehow.

I needed to climax and I was nearly there. When I get close I can get anxious that it won't happen, that I'll get stuck turned on and high and not get the release. I put my weight on one elbow and reached between my legs with my hand.

"Let me," Tess said. "I wasn't sure... let me do that."

Our fingers tangled over my clit. I stroked past it several times, not quite touching, then Tess pushed my hand away. "Like that," I gasped.

"You really like to be teased, don't you? Touched near, around, against, but not right on it, yes?" Her finger circled my engorged clit. "I like to tease, but it is so incredibly hot to tease you while I fuck you, to do both at once."

I cried out and felt the contractions start. My clit was throbbing between Tess's fingers and she pulled me back into her arms, impaling me fully on the toy. I came on her thigh, quaking in her arms. Some minutes later I realized we were coiled on the bed in a heap, both sweating, and the scent of her cologne was all over me.

Tess nudged me to move up in line and I snapped out of my triple-X reverie. Moments later we were introduced as part of the "energetic, fitness-for-fun trainers!" The boys always went first—sailing and water-ski pros, then the golf pro, tennis pro, and finally those of us who taught fitness and circus training. I never thought it was coincidence that the boys were in jobs with "pro" commonly added to them. I knew it meant they had competed professionally, but still, it could rankle, especially when their hours weren't as strenuous as mine.

The "pros" faded to the background and a burst of "Tribal Dance" sent Jerry, Rajid and me tumbling across the stage, followed by Tess, Moika and Mark. Rajid and Moika's stationary trapeze work was exceptional and most of my acrobatics I'd learned from them. We all danced a little bit, then Jerry and Mark paired off to do strength poses while Rajid walked around with Moika draped over and under his shoulders. Tess grabbed me and bent me in half. I was the rag doll and Tess posed me however she wanted.

The hooting and clapping was definitely more soprano than I could ever recall. Tess had been right—our routine was approved by the ladies. When Tess straddled me to grab my ankles and pull them over my head I realized that my crotch was pointed at the room. I had a momentary panic that the fact that I was wet (again) would show, but then Tess quickly rolled me over. Just as well because my nipples were hard and really—I might want to get to know some of these women up close, but I didn't want them all to know that much about me.

I tackled Tess and put her through her stretches. Standing, she had one foot on the floor while I held the other pointed directly at the ceiling. My back was to the rest of the staff and the LOVE women were raising a riot. I couldn't help myself. I looked down at Tess's torso and gave the audience an appreciative wink.

After the howling abated I heard Tess ask furiously, "What did you do?"

We joined the other staffers in line, finished with a few seconds of line dancing, then bounded off the stage, the quintessence of energy. The "pros" were already in the bar, I was sure.

"I didn't do anything," I told Tess. "Except maybe make it clear that you are one beautiful woman."

Tess regarded me open-mouthed. "Why did you do that? Trying to get me a date?"

"No, I, not at all. I thought—I was just giving them what they wanted."

Tess gave me the strangest look, pissed off, flattered and flabbergasted all in one. "I don't need help getting dates, Brandy."

"I know that."

"Sometimes I think you need glasses."

"What does that mean?"

We paused at the door to the bar. It was our habit after introductions to grab a drink and mingle. It increased turnout and Club Sandzibel customer surveys reported that people who worked out were more likely to return for more vacations. Besides, it was more fun to lead classes often than two.

A woman I'd noticed at the pool earlier paused next to Tess. Ignoring me completely, she said, "Are we still on for that drink?"

Tess then did what I'd seen her do many times—but never before with a woman. She stepped a little closer, pushed her hair over her shoulder and gave the woman a slow blink that said yes was a possibility if the rest of the evening went well.

And then Tess went into the bar with the bleached-blonde tart!

When Tess went with some guy I watched for a bit, to make sure he seemed okay. I always told her to be safe. If I was the least bit concerned, I'd stop for a word or two, and give the guy the "eye." That was the look that said Tess had a friend who would remember everything about him and wasn't afraid to make shit up to the cops if it would put his sorry ass in jail. I might be small, but from time to time I have been told I am scary.

Tess was sitting down with this... this... slut of a dyke, and Tess didn't even know what dykes are like. She was defenseless in the dyke dating pool. She didn't know the U-Haul syndrome, for starters. What was she thinking?

What happened to guys?

Part of me wanted to be happy for her if she was going to play for our team. I mean, Tess is fan-fucking-tastic in bed. But I had thought that our encounters were just a special thing between us, not that just any bimbo dyke from who knows where would get to feel the way Tess made me feel. It wasn't right.

It just wasn't right.

I stopped myself from barging in, stopped myself from asserting some sort of right. I had no rights to Tess. We were fuck buddies and friends. Not lovers. Not dating. Not—well, if we weren't any of those things, damn it, it was because Tess was straight. And I would think that if she wasn't straight anymore, if she'd decided she was bi, or whole-hog dyke, well, she'd tell me.

Why, she was with a guy just last... month? Wait, it was that Robert guy, when was he? February, had to be, so two months ago, wait—mistletoe. She'd felt okay with him because he'd snagged a piece of fake mistletoe and brought it over to kiss her, very romantic, the kind of move she liked. Mistletoe meant December.

Dumbfounded, I realized that Tess hadn't been with a guy for over four months. We'd had our first night together October 12, Columbus Day. And I would never forget that. We'd been together again on Halloween. And... Thanksgiving. Buddies, backrubs, that's all it meant.

And in all that time there'd been this Robert guy. I just hadn't noticed there weren't any after him. Tess had described him as a bit of a dud. And we'd been together New Year's Day in the afternoon, and fought back against all that romantic nonsense on Valentine's by having a grand time. St. Patrick's I'd worn a new green toy we were both curious to try.

I was so confused. So very confused to watch Tess flirt with this other woman like she meant it. It felt like I was losing something, like... Tess would never want me now. She could have any lesbian she wanted. I wasn't just competing with guys now—and really, dyke ego says there was no competition. Now I was competing with other dykes for this incredible woman.

Tess never stayed for breakfast and as I stood there, watching her tangle her fingers with the nobody from nowhere, I realized I really wanted her to stay for breakfast.

For the first time in my life I wanted to say about another woman, "She's with me."

"You look like somebody stole your lollipop."

I nearly jumped, but managed to look somewhat graceful—I hoped—when I turned to face Celine Griffin. "No, just watching out for a friend."

Celine nodded as if she understood. She looked exceedingly elegant in a pair of raw silk trousers and an open-crocheted short-sleeved sweater over a nearly sheer, spaghetti-strapped tank top. "I was just going to get a drink before heading to the show."

"What a good idea," I said. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all. I hoped you would."

When we passed Tess and whoever-she-was, Celine's hand was on my hip. Tess saw us. She even gave me a little wink. Her color was high and I was pretty sure she wouldn't be knocking on my door later. Well, I wasn't going to be knocking on hers either. So there.

I didn't care if Tess saw that as I perched on a stool Celine's hips were between my spread knees. I was going to bed with Celine Griffin and I was going to enjoy it. When we left, frothy mudslides in hand, Celine's palm was in that zone between protectively guiding me with pressure on my lower back and openly cupping my ass. I caught the scent of Tess's cologne as we went by, but Tess never looked up.

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