Chapter Five. My alarm woke me from a dream so delicious I immediately wanted to go back to that wonderful place

My alarm woke me from a dream so delicious I immediately wanted to go back to that wonderful place. It wasn't even a dream, it was a memory, and I closed my eyes. I drifted in between whacks on the snooze button, remembering the rest of that first night with Tess.

Tess had kept coming for me. I'd never been with a woman who could climax like that, and I had loved it.

"Yes," I crooned to her. "Let's get everything slippery and do that again, is that what you want?"

"Please," she hissed. "Please, Brandy. Fuck me again, please, I need it... please..."

I shushed her. "I'm not going to stop, sweetie."

"I'm sorry," she said again, and her eyes were again brimming with tears. "Sorry to be so—"

"I love it, I love that you want it and can ask me for it. Don't be sorry for liking this, or wanting it." With lube, I was able to slide into her again. She held me against her breasts for a few moments, then drew my lips to her tightening nipples.

I could feel her relax, feel her melt. It was fantastic. Every movement I made with my hips drew a sigh or a gasp. Our bodies were slick against each other and every time she lifted her pelvis to meet my thrust I felt dizzy with lust for her. Her nails raked over my back, my ribs, and I felt her spasm under me. It felt so good to know I was taking care of her itch, that I could be what she needed, and it was doubly pleasurable that every time she climaxed I got a little closer myself.

She was close again, and this time her cries were sharper, higher-pitched. I watched her face anxiously for any sign that I should slow but she never stopped groaning out "yes" as we moved. Then her legs were around my hips, crushing me until she shook under me so fiercely I could only hold on.

She was gasping so hard for breath I moved off of her. If she wanted more I'd be happy to oblige, but we both needed to cool off a little and drink some water. Her skin was flushed and eyes glassy in the way the trainer in me knew meant she was deprived of both oxygen and water.

"I'm just getting some ice," I told her. Remembering that she had been hurt by a guy who left without so much as a goodbye, I added, "I'm not leaving you."

She had caught her breath, mostly, when I handed her the tinkling glass. After several thirsty swallows, she sat up all the way. "I've never... never gone this far."

"How are you feeling?"

She gave me a sidelong glance. "Would you... could we...?"

"Absolutely," I said. "I'm not going anywhere. Whatever you want."

She looked at me like she finally believed I wasn't going to leave her still wanting. "Whatever?"

"I'd be a fool not to agree to whatever you wanted." I'd finished half my glass of water and the curve of her hips was appealing to my mouth.

"Since you put it that way, I'd like you on your back this time."

"Oh." I was startled, but not unpleasantly. "You'll have no arguments from me."

She straddled my hips, just below the prominence of the toy. I thought she was reaching for the lube, but instead she got the glass, swishing water around in her mouth for several seconds. Then she was leaning over me and all in a rush took my breast into her cold mouth.

"Oh, damn... Tess... that feels fantastic."

The look she gave me could have started a forest fire. Her fingers dipped into her glass and several chilly drops sprinkled across my stomach. I arched involuntarily under her. "You seem to like that."

"It reminds me how alive I feel," I said.

"I've never felt more alive." She set the glass down and picked up the lube. I watched her moisten her hand, then wet the dildo with more of the wonderful slippery stuff. "Like what you see?"

Breathless, I watched her rise up until she could slip the toy inside her. With a visible shudder she settled down on it fully, closing her eyes. "Yes, I like what I see," I managed. I closed my eyes as the sensuous movement of her hips above mine made me arch in response.

Cold drops made my eyes open again. Tess had an ice cube in each hand. "Let's feel alive."

I was panting as I watched her delicately circle her nipples with the ice. They grew so red and swollen that I ached to bring them to my mouth. Then Tess was using the ice on mine and I moaned, overwhelmed with sensation. "God, you're sexy," I said. "You know what you want, what you like, and that turns me on."

She slipped what was left of one cube into my mouth and nothing had ever felt so refreshing. She likewise had the other cube in her mouth and then her cold fingers were trailing down my stomach. She leaned over me, her hips grinding on the toy.

"What?" I had to ask. I could hardly hear over the sound of my pounding heart.

"Fuck me, Brandy, fuck me until you come."

I really wanted to, but I wasn't sure how I was going to climax. She felt unbelievably good on top of me, and I had always loved this position, but I didn't know how I'd come, too. I worried, for a moment, that she was wishing I was a guy who could more easily have some sort of mutual orgasm, then all that went away. She sat up and arched her back, putting one hand behind her.

When I felt her fingertips opening my labia I shook with a contraction, and I fucked her, pushing up into her while her still cold fingers seemed to melt on my burning clit. I fucked her with hoarse little cries of my own need, holding her thighs. I gasped her name, over and over, while her touch on my clit drove me crazy. Then her sexy half-cry of climax—a sound I was fast learning to adore—washed over me and my own urgency welled up. We froze together for a moment, holding our breath, then Tess gave one last cry and crumpled on top of me.

She was crying and I didn't know if that was good or bad. I hoped it was good. I felt beyond great. Beyond wow, more than incredible.

"Was it okay?" She finally found some coherent words. Between sobs she searched my face for my answer.

"It was fabulous, fabulous, Tess. You were incredible. I've never felt so good with anyone before. It was okay that you wanted—"

"No, no. Was that last, was that okay? Was that good for you? I wanted you to get something out of it—"

"More than something, Tess, it was fantastic. Don't torture yourself. It was all wonderful." I cradled her head on my shoulder, feeling like a god of love. "Thank you for caring that I did... it would have been wonderful without, don't get me wrong. But I've never had anyone do that before."

She had laughed, the low easy laugh of the Tess I'd known for the last year. The tears had disappeared. "Like I said, you need a chick with long arms."

I rolled over in bed, replaying that moment when I'd felt her gather me inside her, not just the toy, but my needs, too. The times we'd been together since had been equally energetic. Unbelievably so. It had taken a few times before we'd remembered that sex could be had places other than the bed. Something inside me blossomed when I was with her. I felt grand, awesome, sexy, attractive—I felt better about me and who I was when she was there.

What had changed? I hit the snooze button one more time and asked myself why I felt so different today. We had been going along quite well, and the arrival of other lesbians on the scene had upset the balance, I guess. I kicked myself for not realizing Tess's interest in guys had always been somewhat weak. Sure, she talked pretty freely about sex, and had a long list of things she really liked, all of which were possible with the male of the species. But she never talked about a future where she got married, had kids and all that. Men touched her physically but now that I was considering the possibility that Tess might prefer women, I could see that either she didn't let men touch her more deeply, or they just didn't have what it took to reach inside her. Women did, maybe.

Maybe I did. Maybe I'd shown her that a door she'd never considered was the very one she'd been looking for. But something was just not fair if in the end I fell in love with a straight woman who wasn't, only to lose her before she had even come out, lose her to a dyke she'd just met. None of that made much sense and it wasn't any fun at all to be living it.

Annoyed, I kicked off the covers and started my day. Shower, breakfast, Morning Stretch. I did not go to Tess's Body Pump because I had a two-hour stint at KidZone, one doing relief and the other working with five- to seven-year-olds on basic tumbling. On a day like today, my heart and head in turmoil, it was wonderful to lose myself in something so engrossing. Kids can be maddening, but they can also be refreshingly uncomplicated. Something hurts, they say so. Something pisses them off, you know about it right away. Something makes their heart fill with joy and you can see them grow right before your eyes.

I'd always thought I was in touch with my inner child. Like Celine had said, I wasn't in a hurry to grow up. So why couldn't I walk up to Tess and say, "I like hanging out with you. You make me feel great inside. I want you to be my best friend and to spend all my time with you. And I like that grown-up thing we do, too. I want to line up on the starting line and see if we're running a sprint or a marathon together. So how about it? Want to go steady and see if it's fun?"

Right.

I raced from the big tent to the main guest pool, arriving in time to do my bit in the dunk tank competition. I'd lost the draw this month. Stripped down to the sport bra and undies that passed successfully as a swimsuit, I perched on the wobbly apparatus that had been set up over the six-foot end of the main pool. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, I thought. Usually the place was full of guys who just couldn't wait to show off their machismo. They'd let me barely get settled on the perch before throwing another pitch. The guests loved it, the kids loved it.

No guys this week, I told myself, and I relaxed on the perch.

Maybe it was the sun that made me forget about softball.

The first woman up slow-pitched me into the water five out of five balls. At least she let me get settled again, nice and safe, before launching the next salvo. It was a long line and I had to acknowledge that for all my genuine belief that lesbians were cooler in so many ways, they suffered from bouts of machismo, too. Ten times, then fifteen, and the line just kept getting longer.

A voice rang out from behind me. "Pick on someone your own size!" The entire apparatus swayed as someone else clambered on and I turned to see Alicia, costumed as Wonder Woman, brandishing her golden bracelets. The next ball missed and the one after hit the target square on, but I didn't drop.

"Wonder Woman to the rescue!" I shouted. Nobody but Alicia and me knew she'd set the safety latch to keep me out of the water. For a while everyone sort of bought the power of Wonder Woman saving my butt, but as looks grew suspicious Alicia kicked the latch off with an apologetic glance.

I took my time climbing back up from each tumble, but dykes are patient, especially softball dykes. It turned out there was a party of twelve from a softball league and damned if they weren't going to prove something.

The torture finally ended—lots of laughter and revelry, ha ha—and lunch couldn't have seemed more welcome. I pulled on my shorts and tank, not caring that I'd soak them through, and headed toward the dining room. I needed water most of all.

"That's the one," I heard a woman say as I went past. "The one who let Celine do her the first night."

"She is kinda cute..."

I kept walking, more because I was stunned than I was consciously choosing my actions. I could feel my face and shoulders burning a deep, angry red.

Had Celine told the world? Was everyone talking about us? Judging us?

Okay, I'd forgotten about softball dykes, and I'd forgotten about how dykes loved to classify, label and set up pyramids of righteousness, too. So I was the slut this week, apparently. Fine. Damn Celine for anything she'd said. Damn it, damn it. I'd been called a slut by men and I just didn't care. But I did care when it was dykes. Damned if I'd sleep with any of them now. Like they knew me, knew my life and had any business applying their definition of slut to me.

Blinking back tears I grabbed a banana and headed for my quarters. I had about an hour to myself, then there was a staff meeting before my two p.m. Body Pump class. Maybe I'd feel like eating something by then.

A tour group on Jet Skis rounded the marina, heading for a landing at the sailing hut. The roar of their engines drowned out someone calling my name. Fuck and fuck it, it was Celine.

"Hey, wait up."

Fuming, I peeled the banana and starting eating it while I waited.

"I was wondering if you had plans for dinner." I took my time chewing and her cheerful expression faded. "Have I done something wrong?"

I shrugged. "Apparently I'm the one you did on the very first night."

She blinked, puzzled, then frowned. "Oh. Dyke gossip travels fast. Are you sorry we went to bed?"

"No," I muttered. "I just didn't expect to get a scarlet letter." I heaved a long sigh. "It was just a chance remark, but it bothered me."

"I haven't been out bragging," Celine assured me. "I don't do that. But people saw us leave together and I don't have an angel's reputation. Have dinner with me and stay to dance with me tonight and we'll really give them something to talk about."

I was tempted only because she offered something easy and uncomplicated by anything but lust. I didn't feel lustful, though. At least not toward Celine. But if I refused, would Celine think I was, in fact, a one-night stand only? We'd hardly talked, and damn, I had admired the woman for years. I'd forgotten she was Celine Griffin, in fact.

I went for honesty. "Well, yes to dinner, I'd like that. I don't know about dancing, though. This is my longest workday of the week."

"Don't you get days off?"

"Half-days Wednesday afternoons and Friday mornings."

"Wow. Okay, I understand. We'll see about dancing, then." She stepped closer and I could smell her appealing cologne. Saturday night had been really wonderful. "If you've strength for things other than dancing, I can forgo the disco, believe me." I guess some of my surprise must have shown, because she quickly added, "Did you really think I wouldn't want to see you again if I could?"

I shrugged. "Last night, I didn't get that idea. I wasn't hurt or anything—"

"I thought you'd come back from the bar and we'd polish the parquet."

"Oh." I smiled a little. "I didn't understand."

She affected outrage. "Did you really think I couldn't handle a pissy D.J. on my own? I was trying to figure how to lure you there."

I laughed outright. "Okay, I missed it. I was preoccupied, maybe."

"With me, I hope." Her hands were on my hips and all the chemistry that had worked between us before became very pronounced. I was single, wasn't I? Couldn't I follow the wise advice of pagans: an' it hurts no one, do as ye will?

I don't know what I would have done one way or the other, but Tess walked past us then. Her glance at me held no amusement. It was almost disdain. It wasn't like Tess at all.

Stung, I called, "Hey, Tess?" She turned for a moment. "If you take my Body Pump this afternoon, I'll take yours in the morning."

Her gaze slid from me to Celine to Celine's hands on my hips, then rose slightly to my obviously hard nipples. I could have told her it was my wet sport bra causing that, but it was no longer entirely true. "Sure," she said, not meeting my gaze again. "I've got a hot date and this way we can sleep in."

Tess hurried off and Celine pulled me closer. "Do I understand that you are free until three now? That's about ninety minutes."

I nodded and we stared at each other. Tess had a date, I told myself. I flashed on the vision of her unbuttoned blouse.

Celine whispered in my ear, "How would you feel about a naughty, needy, raunchy afternoon fuck?"

We hit the wall just inside my door and I didn't even have time to be glad I'd cleaned up a little. Celine was pulling off my shirt and bra and I had my hand down her shorts while she did it. My response to her was complicated, I knew that. Not just physical—she was hot and wet and wanted me—but also because I trusted her to be Celine. I trusted her to fuck me and let me fuck her, and to leave on Saturday so that I could go on with my life. As much as I wanted Tess at that moment, Tess wasn't safe for my heart or my sanity. I knew the rules with Celine.

One of the rules was to like it, and I did like it. I liked it a lot. Her teeth were raising my nipples to even harder points and I was cupping her ass as we writhed against the wall. Sometimes her back was to it, and sometimes mine was. In one of those times when she was the one with spread thighs, panting against me and thrusting against my hand, her legs threatened to give out.

"Can we get to the bed?" She had one hand on her forehead, as if she was dizzy.

"Sure," I murmured.

She pulled me down on top of her and I remembered how she liked it. I was inside her, no teasing, no holding back. Hard and fast, four fingers deep. She arched up with a sustained groan and I was lost in the dance of her smooth, dark thighs across my crumpled white sheets.

So female. I love women.

So beautiful. I love curves and soft and muscles and cunts, wet, hot cunts that ripple in response to being touched.

It felt good inside her and when we finally came to a rest, her arms around my waist while we laughed breathlessly, I felt like maybe I had gotten beyond the "must have Tess to feel good" frame of mind. What did I care if less was with some woman this week? On Saturday Bleachie and Celine would leave and Tess and I would be back to where we'd been.

Celine, looking sexier by the minute, flipped me, but it wasn't like I resisted. Her fingers began a delicious exploration of my body and I spread myself out, luxuriating in the feel of her touch. I was with Celine Griffin, famous lesbian and, in my book, sex goddess.

"Oh, that does feel fine, doesn't it?" She was moving on top of me, nudging my legs farther and farther apart. I wanted her fingers as far inside me as they would go.

The phone rang.

Celine froze and I found myself holding my breath. Two long rings, then a third, all indicating it was a call from outside the resort. My antiquated answering machine whirred into action.

"I never get calls," I said. Her fingers were right at my opening, but the passion of the moment was teetering.

It was completely lost when I heard my mother's voice.

I sat bolt upright, nearly knocking Celine to the floor. "Holy shit!"

Distorted by the speaker, my mother's voice was reedy and weak. "I know we haven't spoken in so long, dear—"

I retorted to the machine, "Yeah, how about because you told me I was a pervert!"

"—in times of emergency, family has to forgive and come together. Your father would have wanted you here. It's hard to believe he's gone. It was very sudden... he'd given up smoking and started exercising... but... too little..."

Reeling, I clambered out of bed and stumbled toward the phone. "I'm here," I said. What else was there to say?

"Oh, I'm glad, Brandy. I wasn't sure this number would still reach you. It was a stroke, dear. The funeral is Wednesday afternoon. Will you come home?"

"When did it happen?" She sounded so frail, but it wasn't the first time that weak little Mom had used it for guilt. Maybe she'd changed. I'd heard that people did sometimes change.

"Saturday. I've just... been in shock. Your brother is managing the details. I don't know what I'd do without him."

That was Roger, dutiful and appreciated. A ticket would cost a fortune but what else was there to say but, "I'll be there. I don't know when, but I will be there."

My mother's voice firmed up a lot and she said, more like the mother I remembered, "I'm glad, dear. You do have something black? If you need a hat for church, don't worry, I have plenty. Come by the house first and we'll go to the church in Uncle Bert's Town Car."

I counted to five, then said, "I'll be there. I have to go make arrangements."

"Very well." Now very much the mother I remembered, she hung up without the wasted time of a good-bye.

Celine had quietly come up behind me, and her arms were strong and comforting. "I'm so sorry," she said softly.

"He was a bastard," I answered flatly. "I let him down the day I was born without a penis, and things only got worse when he decided he'd teach me, over and over, that I wasn't a boy. They had a boy the second time, though. Lucky, huh?"

"Do you have to go?"

Not going hadn't occurred to me. "Yes. I mean, even though Mom called and asked me to go, she really doesn't want me there. If it weren't for the circumstances the uptight, freaked-out church ladies would rather I wasn't there either. Maybe that's why I have to go."

Celine nodded as if that made sense, though I wasn't sure it did. "Do you want me to leave? You must have things to do now."

"No—it's okay. I mean, I don't feel like..."

She turned me to face her. "Of course not." She gave me an intent look. "I gather you were estranged."

"Yeah. I came out to them and it was good-bye to me forever. I haven't spoken to them for two years."

"That must have been rough."

I shrugged. "Like everybody else, I got a job and figured out how to take care of myself."

"Are you okay?"

I shrugged again. "I'm angry, I guess." I was, too, so angry I felt numb. I'd talked to Tess about my parents and brother and suddenly I wanted her, propped up on the sofa, a brownie in one hand while the other played in her hair as she talked. She knew all the gory details. She wouldn't have to ask questions. She knew... me.

"I guess I do need to go. I need to ask for leave and use a computer in the office to book a ticket. Shower first, I guess."

Celine nodded. "A good plan. Let me just find all my clothes. I know one sock is under the bed. Your room is just like mine. I hadn't realized."

"Yeah, instead of a second bed we have that kitchenette kind of thing."

"You can pop your own popcorn while you watch a movie at least."

My laugh was unamused. "Yeah, with all the free time."

"Oh, right. I forgot. Your hours are ridiculous."

I felt as if our conversation was being conducted at die end of a long hallway. "It's a living."

She was mostly dressed by the time I had gathered a small pile of items I was worriedly thinking I would need to pack. I was pulling my only suitcase, which doubled as an overflow laundry basket, out of the rear of the closet while she tied her shoelaces. "Listen, Brandy, I realize you might have to leave abruptly, so if I don't see you... I'm sorry we didn't get to finish what we started."

I tried for a smile. "At some point I think I'm going to be sorry too."

"Maybe someday we'll get to finish things up. I like being with you. It's been..."

"Uncomplicated?" She nodded slowly, and I added, "We both like what we like."

"And we didn't have to negotiate the harness and discuss if I was being het-centric. Or if my getting off by holding you down was deep-seated violent tendencies toward women."

I found myself grinning, though it felt like someone else's body. "I bet that gets old."

"Ruins the mood, too. Look... in case I don't see you again." She pulled me close and kissed me gently, almost maternally, on the forehead. "Here's some advice from an old broad. Dance through life any way you want, and don't worry about people who can't hear the music."

"Thank you." I didn't tell her I recognized the sentiment from her stand-up special three or four years ago. I appreciated that the advice had been well-intentioned. "I'm still not sure I want to grow up."

"Oh, you have, you're just queen of the party barge."

I closed the door after she left, shaking my head. I was not living in the land of denial. I was free of the crushing weight of material possessions like china sets and Town Cars. I didn't have to spend Sundays, afternoons and evenings all week discussing God and Country. I spent most of my day doing work that I enjoyed. I had no mortgage to meet and no concerns about where my next meal was coming from. Two years ago it had seemed like a perfect choice.

Reality was intruding. I was starting to think maybe I had a heart that could be caught by one woman and that thought had never crossed my mind before. I also had a credit card that would be just about maxed out with the price of an air ticket. A savings account with more than a few dollars would have been a big help.

Was this how growing up began? Life asked a little more from you than you could easily manage so you changed? Had I been on a surfboard all this time, working my way out from shore, and now I had to turn around and ride the waves—all the highs, and all the lows—back in?

What would be waiting for me on the shore when I got in? What did I want there? If life was a marathon, how would I recognize the milestones?

I dashed away an angry tear as I made the bed, then got in the shower. Damn my father and his pissant fire-and-brimstone preachings. He'd said I slept with other girls to make God angry, to get God's attention, and since in our house he was God, well, that meant I was sleeping with other girls to get his attention. That was my father in a nutshell. Even my sleeping with girls was somehow about him.

I wanted Tess. I really needed her. She'd know what to say. She'd tell me I was okay to feel mad and hurt that I never got to tell the old bastard to go to hell before he actually went there. I got soapsuds in my mouth laughing at the thought of him arriving in his worst nightmare hell, filled with gruesome specters of all that he hated: feminists, drag queens and dark-skinned people who didn't "talk American." I hoped that's where he was. As far as I was concerned, it was where he deserved to be.

Randall was actually decent to me. First time ever he didn't do or say something to make me either mad or resentful. "The policy is three days' paid leave for bereavement, but if you need a few more than that to help your mother, then I could easily cover you for five or six days. I'm really sorry about your loss, Brandy."

I knew he could tell I'd been crying, and damn it, I had to keep swallowing to be able to speak. I was so angry I couldn't see. "Thank you. I appreciate knowing that."

"You go book a flight and I'll let people know you'll be taking off."

He followed me as I left his office and said something to Rosa, die reception manager. Rosa enveloped me in a gardenia hug and said she had booked flights on the Internet before and would happily give me a hand.

I screwed with it for an hour, trying to find a flight combination that would fit on my credit card. I was cursing my father under my breath as I narrowed the search down to an itinerary that went from Tampa to Dallas, where I waited for nearly four hours, then on to Baltimore. That journey cost two hundred dollars less than Tampa to Atlanta to Baltimore. Even so, my credit card couldn't handle the nearly eight-hundred-dollar charge.

I glanced at the clock. I supposed there was enough time to get to my bank, withdraw my meager savings and pay down my credit card balance enough, but I was willing to bet that wouldn't take effect until tomorrow, when the ticket would probably cost even more.

Damn it, I thought. If my mother had called me yesterday I could have rented a car and been halfway there, comfortably. The only way I'd get there in time now would be a long haul, and I'd have to arrange for a car and leave tonight. It would be much cheaper, and I wouldn't have to commit to a return date. Those extra days off Randall had just offered me meant I wouldn't have to hurry to get back. A car would be far more convenient. Besides, I was willing to bet no one would pick me up at the airport so I'd have to pay for shuttles and have no control over where I went and when.

My mind made up, I clicked back to the start page and selected car rentals. Anything that got decent mileage and had a CD player would do.

A throat was cleared behind me and I turned to see Rosa smiling shyly. She held out a bulging white envelope. "You always help out when anyone needs a little bit. Believe me, not everyone does. So now we can finally pay you back, though we all wish it weren't under these circumstances. You'll need it, or your mama will."

Stunned, I took the envelope. I hadn't expected it. Sure, when the hat was passed for backroom staff I chipped in. I might not make much money, but I lived for nearly free. Sure, I didn't get the tips they made, but I also didn't get furloughed for a week if the number of guests was low. "Rosa, I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say a thing—"

"Thank you. Thank everybody, please? I'm going to drive, I think. I can get there in time and it's so much less expensive."

"Marguerite in the kitchen said if you call you could get maybe half off on a flight for bereavement. You need to know the name of the funeral home so they can verify."

I thought about it for a moment. Half was still four hundred dollars and once I was there I'd be marooned unless I rented a car anyway. "I still think I'll drive. I like driving."

"Then you use the money to stay someplace nice on the way, where they'll bring you breakfast in bed the way you did Lise when she broke her ankle."

Blinking really fast and hard didn't stop the tears. "This makes a huge difference. Thank you." I wouldn't have to use my credit card for eleven hundred miles' worth of gas. Wiping my face, I gestured at the screen. "So I'm looking at car rentals."

"No, no," she said. She reached for the phone. "Mi hermano works for Hertz."

Walking back to my quarters felt strange. I was out of my usual rhythm. My body knew it was after four on a Monday, and it was time for tumbling lessons with the eight to ten kids. I also knew that right now Tess was doing weight room instruction for guests wanting to plan routines on the fitness equipment. I realized that if I hadn't asked her to take my Body Pump class I might have missed my mother's call.

I took the time to tuck the cash-filled envelope into my suitcase. I was still stunned by everyone's generosity. I hated my father and he was dead and I had three hundred dollars out of the blue. It would easily get me there and back, and maybe I could stay someplace nice and watch a movie in the room, almost like a vacation.

It would take some thinking to work through the irony of it all.

Feeling more than a little bemused, I decided work would clear my head. My heart wanted to veer left to the fitness center, though, where I could at least look at Tess, then tell her the news, if she hadn't heard. But my feet kept plodding onward until I was under the circus tent.

Rajid tried to shoo me away. "You're covered. Go take care of you."

"This is taking care of me," I said. "Rosa's got a rental car being delivered. Randall gave me time off. I need distraction or I'll just spend the next few hours remembering all the reasons my father and I weren't speaking."

With a glance at the kids, Rajid said simply, "Family is as family does. No more, no less."

There was only a half-hour left, but working with smaller groups of kids was always more effective. Rajid handled cartwheels and I took over dive-and-rolls. At five we marched the kids back to KidZone where I got lovely hugs from Rhea and the other staffers. I usually had dinner now, with Tess, so I went that direction at my usual pace.

I wanted to run, though, do anything to find her seconds sooner so she could hold me and I could cry. Dignity made me put my hands in my pockets and stroll. I had no cares, no worries. I was calm.

Until I saw her, that is. Until I looked up and saw her hurrying toward me, her eyes sad and her arms open.

Any other week we might not have stood there for several minutes, just holding each other close, but it wasn't as if these guests would find it odd. It was a surprising feeling, standing in the open air, in plain sight of the world, and holding Tess as close as physically possible.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," Tess murmured in my ear, over and over. "So sorry."

Her body was warm, and the smell of her—soap, deodorant, shampoo, spray, whatever made it up—was welcome. I breathed her in, holding her very tight. I didn't want to let go.

"Have you eaten anything?"

"Not really."

"Let's get some sandwiches and eat at your place. You can pack and we can talk."

I nodded and realized I had to consciously make my arms let go of her.

"There you are, Brandy!" Rosa was bearing down on us. "The car is here, but you need to sign the contract."

"I'll get the food and let myself into your place," Tess said quickly. "I'm glad that the LOVE people are performing tonight."

I followed Rosa back to reception. My father would likely have been thrilled to know the timing of his death robbed me of several days in lesbian company. I was going to miss Celine Griffin's performance on Friday night unless I busted my butt to get back. In fact, most of the LOVE women would be gone by the time I returned. Depressed in addition to being angry, I signed the paperwork and then headed for my quarters and Tess.

"I was going to swipe some wine." She'd set out the sandwiches and chilled bottles of water. "But if you're heading out tonight you shouldn't drink."

"It has to be tonight if I want more than a few hours of sleep along the way."

"You should take a nap before you leave. Eat a decent dinner and then have a nap." She set the wrapped sandwiches down on the tiny kitchen table. "If you want I'll wake you later."

She was probably right about the nap. I ate some of the ham and cheese hoagie because she pointed at it and said I should. Food did help. I didn't feel quite so blue.

"I was realizing that I'm going to miss the rest of the week of the women."

"That sucks, really. Another reason to hate your dad?"

"Yeah, he'd be pleased if he knew. I'm so angry, Tess. So angry that I can hardly feel it."

She chewed thoughtfully, then suggested, "Because he never cared a thing about you? Smacked you around sometimes?"

"No, that's old." I swallowed with difficulty. "I'm still mad about that, but right now it's all such a jumble. It's not fair that I never got a chance to make him see what a shit he was. He slammed the door in my face and I never had the ovaries to say, 'Fuck you too, you hypocrite.' "

I had another thought, a very unwelcome one. I managed a swallow of water while Tess patted my hand.

"I'll never get to prove him wrong about me. I'll never be able to show him I was a success at something when he said I'd do nothing but fail. I didn't realize..." My eyes filled with hot tears.

"Didn't realize you still wanted to prove him wrong? That his opinion still mattered?"

I nodded mutely.

Very softly, she said, "Your life wasn't the way it's supposed to be. Neither was mine. I think about what my life might have been like if my folks hadn't died. You know, like on Star Trek} I can see the parallel universe, and that makes me really sad. Well, it used to. Nothing I could have done would have fixed it and.. I guess what I mean is, if your father had lived to be a hundred you couldn't have fixed it. Only he could fix him. You can only fix you. The hard part is not letting the anger and frustration turn you into him or your mom."

"You mean he's done me a favor? I can stop wasting energy on him now? How ironic, the last thing he ever did was something good for me." I scrubbed my face with a napkin.

Tess pushed the rest of her sandwich to one side. "Hard as it is to accept, nothing your father ever did was about you. A teacher I once had said there is nothing so profoundly insulting as to be seen as irrelevant."

"I was stupid to waste my time on him to begin with. He never cared what I did unless it was wrong. Then he made sure I knew about it."

She reached for my fingers, her thumb smoothing over the nearly invisible scar on the back of my hand. Tess knew about the brick he'd let fall on it to teach me a lesson about not being alert. It had taught me never to take my eyes off him. Even when I wasn't looking at him I was.

"I'm really sorry, Brandy. But yeah, maybe you can get some peace. Don't go for him or your mom. Go for you and then wipe your feet on the way out."

I cupped her hand in mine. Tess was the first person I'd told about my parents who hadn't suggested that I should try to reconcile with them. "I'm glad you're here."

Our gazes met. Her blue-gray eyes were shimmering with sympathetic tears. With a hard swallow, she released my hand and went back to her sandwich. "What are you going to wear?"

I pointed at the bed. "The only black dresses I have are too short, so it'll be black slacks and that black blouse and my leather jacket. I can't get around that. I'm not going to try terribly hard either."

She moved to the sofa while I finished packing. I was probably taking too much, but I didn't want to have to waste money on silly things I already had, like aspirin and shampoo. Once the suitcase was zipped I joined her on the sofa.

She took my hand as I settled down. Her fingers traced a delicate pattern along my forearm. "So, I guess all your relatives will be there."

"Yeah. I'm to go to the house first to make sure I'm properly attired. I need a hat for church."

"What, a Club Sandzibel ballcap won't cut it?"

"Nah, it has to be this little lacy thing that perches right on top. Small, but conspicuous in its piety. Only women with blue hair wear them."

"You'll be fine."

"They'll all stare." I shrugged. I felt so much better holding her hand and having her close. Suddenly exhausted, I closed my eyes. "They'll all stare and..."

"Bran?"

I started awake. "Sorry—"

"No, it's okay, just move a little bit... there." My head came to a rest against her shoulder. "I'll wake you."

"Okay." At least I think I said it aloud.

My next conscious thought was that it was dark and my cheek pressed against something soft. I stirred slightly and found my head was in Tess's lap. She was asleep, her head resting on the back of the sofa.

I looked, long and hard, and my head was crowded with a jumble of feelings. I needed to leave for home, but this was home. Home was where she was, but I had to leave her. I didn't want to go. I wanted to stay right where I was, surrounded by the reality of her.

I carefully sat up, not wanting to wake her—but hoping she would wake up on her own. The room was dark, but the open curtains let in light from the courtyard. Looking at her I felt die same wonderful, terrifying mix of emotions that I'd felt the day Susan Porkland had asked if she could touch my breasts. It felt just like that moment in time, when I'd realized that I wasn't the only girl who liked to touch other girls. Pure magic. Nothing since had seemed so innocent, but I felt that way right now, looking at Tess's face in the soft, low light.

I made a small noise, back in my throat. I didn't know what to call this feeling, no word seemed quite right.

Her eyes fluttered open and she slowly lifted her head. Completely dressed, I felt naked. I breathed out her name so softly I wasn't sure she heard me.

It was only a few seconds that we stared at each other, but the spaces in between the beats of my heart were overflowing with feeling.

She leaned forward and I realized what she was going to do. Something she had never done before.

She kissed me. Full on the lips. Sweet, soft, tender and something more. I was stunned. She kissed me like a lover would. We'd done a lot of things together, but never this, and this kiss seemed the most intimate touch of all.

When we had to stop to breathe she just looked at me and then I kissed her and our mouths opened and it was delicious and welcome and heated. When her hand came to the back of my neck I melted into her body and we kissed, over and over. I felt like I was making up for lost time, thinking this was how I should have kissed her that first night, and how I had wanted to kiss her the last time we were together, but kisses hadn't been something we shared. They were about love and we were about sex and hormones and friendly physical sharing. Weren't we?

This wasn't about hormones, or backrubs, or being buddies. She wanted me. I could feel it in her shivering skin and hear it in the rising level of the soft noise she made every time our mouths parted and then found each other again.

There was a low, gray murmur inside me, about things I needed to do, and cars and maps and anger. It was far away, someplace else. The rest of me was in Tess's arms, and when she brought her hands to my waist to pull me even closer all I could hear was the pounding of my heart and those little sounds she was making as she kissed me.

We kissed as I slowly sank onto my back, pulling her down with me.

"Are you sure?" We whispered the question to each other at the same moment, then stopped to smile our answers. Clothes slipped out of the way and we sighed together as our nipples brushed. Then I felt her pubic hair tangling with mine and we began to move together, rolling our hips in a slow, comfortable rhythm.

She was on top of me as my legs slowly parted. I wanted her, but not like all the times before with her. Not like she had my prescription and was kindly filling it. I wanted her like a lover. I wanted her to moan as loudly as I did when her fingers discovered how wet I was.

And when they did, when I felt her part my lips and slip into the heat there, she did moan. She moaned into my mouth as we kissed and I felt her skin heat up and I knew she wanted me. I thought, ridiculously, that I was being made love to for the first time in my life.

We had always talked before, said low, sweaty things about how good skin and sweat and friction and wet felt, but tonight we were without words in the dark. I didn't need any words. It was clear she knew what every small movement of my body meant.

She slid inside me so easily that the part of me that usually gasped or moaned didn't respond. Instead, I felt lit from within by different fires, and they were burning hotter and higher with every stroke of her fingers inside me. I was giving something up to her though I could not name what it was.

She moaned quietly as the inside of me began to flutter and then she was pushing deeper. Deeper, filling me, and I wanted her to touch places inside me, secret and private. Places that weren't physical, though her fingers were how she would reach them. Not just reach, but stroke, caress. She was making love to the inside of me.

"Is this okay?"

I started as if from sleep. I had only felt her hand, as if it were the only way we connected. But there were her eyes, anxious but loving, and her mouth, a passionate curve of desire.

"Yes, it's more than... please..."

She pushed deeper again and my eyes widened in response. The look on her face was one of awe and astonishment. "You've never felt like this—"

"You've never touched me like this, with your hand so deep—"

"I've wanted to—"

"Love me... Love me, Tess, the way you want to."

She leaned over my vibrating body, her hair cloaking us so that every word seemed to be captured in our private world. "I am making love to you, and now, now I'm going to fuck you."

"Please!"

"Do you feel that?"

She pulled her fingers out of me, then sank in again, and I felt stretched and full and enveloping her even as she covered me with her body. Then she kissed me, frantically, hungrily, kissed me while she fucked me, and told me yes.

Whatever the questions were, the answer was yes between us at that moment, and those secret, private places inside me opened to the light of her.

I was hot inside, hot from her touch, her light, hot but not burning. Burning would hurt and nothing she had ever done had hurt me. Hot, like muscles thrilling to a climb, like my heart driving me to run faster, lift more, just because I could. Hot, inside my cunt, inside my breasts, inside my head. When the explosions began, coming for her was the most natural thing I had ever done.

Tess was still inside me, and I felt her tears on my stomach. Everything changed. She was the soothing cool to bring me down, the limitless wet of a woman.

I kissed her panting mouth and pushed her hair out of her eyes. Our faces and lips were damp. My tongue was thirsty for her tears, for the inside of her mouth. I knew what I wanted.

I let my tongue suggest it. I trailed it along her neck, then flicked lightly over her breasts. I coiled my tongue around her erect nipple, and she gasped. We were slowly shifting positions so she was on her back and I was stretched out between her legs. I could smell her and I wanted to fill my mouth with the most beautiful part of her.

"I don't want to ask this," I whispered. "I don't want you to think I'm just being bitchy and jealous. But did... you... she...?"

Tess blinked, her expression puzzled.

"How safe do I need to be? I want to go down..." I paused, feeling shy. I could tell Tess I was going to hold her down and fuck her greedy cunt, but it was suddenly very difficult to say simply that I wanted to taste her cunt with my tongue, and do that for, oh, several hours.

"We didn't do that. Just her fingers," Tess whispered back. "She... Oh, hell, Brandy. What the heck is stone?"

I laughed and it broke the immediate mood. She smiled weakly and there she was, the Tess I loved, my best friend, the woman I could say just about anything to. "She didn't want you to touch her back?"

Tess shook her head. "I thought there was something wrong with me the first time, and the second, well, I thought she was really turned on, but..."

"It wasn't you. Some women choose that. They like to touch, but not be touched back."

"Oh." She blinked. "There was a guy I dated for a while in college who liked to do me until I came, but he didn't except every... like fifth time. He said once he'd gone two years."

"I think that's Tantric sex. For him at least."

"Oh."

"Tess?" She looked at me and I moved against her pelvis. "The important thing right now is that I'm not stone, and neither are you. And I want to bury my face between your legs and stay there."

She drew a sharp breath. "You've never—"

"I've wanted to, so much. But I thought you were with guys and—oh, yes, yes, I will."

"No more talking," she said in that voice of hers that made me want to devote every breath to her pleasure. Her hand was twined in my hair and she was pushing me down. I let her guide my face to her and pull me in. I loved the feel of her hand on the back of my head. I was submerged in the fathomless ocean of her and she held me there without moving.

She tasted so good, and she was copiously wet. Dyke ego asserted itself. I coiled my tongue around her clit and her hand dropped away from my head. Her legs went limp. She got impossibly more wet and let out a long coo that I'd never heard from her before.

Running my tongue just along the sides, I felt her clit elongate and stiffen in response. Tess was groaning and I settled comfortably on my stomach, arms around her legs, as I gloried in her intricate ripples.

I tasted all of her, inside and out, side to side, coating my lips, nose, cheeks. I loved kissing her labia and whipping my tongue through every furled fold of her. Whenever she lifted her knees I felt as if she was offering herself, for me to go inside. My tongue was no match for the size of the toys she preferred, but her legs jerked in response as I teased her opening, then slipped past it to tease. When her knees relaxed again I would swoop up to her clit, catching it between my lips to pinch it, just a little. Her knees would lift and it would all begin again until her hoarse gasps took on that familiar edge of nearly there. Nearly... almost...

I was thinking that when she was hormonal she liked to be held down, but she'd said the rest of the time she was a "slow, easy screw." I wanted her to come but didn't know her body this way. She could get hyperstimulated or anxious—and now I was anxious. I wanted her to come, to feel the wonderful splendid cascade of feeling that being loved this way could bring. At least it always had for me.

Her voice changed and I knew that small nuance. She was nearly there, almost, and starting to worry she wouldn't get the rest of the way.

Dyke ego said no guy had ever done this right, and dyke ego said she did like what I was doing, but maybe she couldn't come this way and we were both going to get frustrated by my continuing to try. She'd think I was disappointed if she didn't and maybe I would be, a little, but more than anything, I wanted that hoarse cry of hers to break out of her throat, the way it did when she was in the throes. I didn't care how she got there. I had loved her the best I could, and now what really mattered was that she get release and the assurance that I had loved touching and licking her. And I had, every moment of it.

I freed my hands from their tight grasp of her legs and reached up for her forearms. She groaned as I tightened my grip, pulling her firmly down against my face.

"I love this part of you." I felt tears stinging my eyes. "I love your wet pussy in my mouth."

She groaned again, loudly, and I let go of her arms to seize her legs. Scrambling to my knees I pushed her legs up until her thighs were on her stomach. She was completely exposed. I trailed my nipples across the taut, swollen flesh, and then went back with my mouth, sucking her clit between my lips. I slipped one finger just inside her opening, rubbing lightly there where she'd responded to my tongue. I was about to go deeper when she wrapped her arms around her knees and cried out. Everything got wet as she rocked and writhed and I did exactly what I was doing, exactly that, until she finally began to relax.

I let her legs fall and clambered up to kiss her and hold her tight against me. "That was amazing. You tasted so good. I loved doing that, and then the way you came, that was—"

She kissed me, either out of gratitude or to shut me up, I didn't care.

After a while, when the kisses slowed, words spilled over us. Our voices were tangled and low and if we made sense I couldn't fathom it. It was sweet and quiet, and I was aware all at once of the profound beauty of our mutual tenderness.

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