Maybe it was a misunderstanding. Maybe she's okay.
Lana sits on the cold stiff bed inside her cell. A cell, for the insane, as if sensory deprivation will eliminate her sexuality. As if the rain beating against the window is all the visual stimulation that she needs. She presses a photo harder against her chest. Maybe she's okay. She can picture Wendy at home lying on the sofa, smoking a joint. The slope of her legs, knees pointing skyward, and the way her pencil skirt followed those curves are all such vivid images. Lana would often come home to this. She's seen it dozens of times before. Wendy's students were often rowdy, as most elementary students are, and the best way she knew to relax was to put on a record and smoke.
She remembers one day in particular when she came home to this scene. Wendy lying on the sofa with her arm outstretched over the side, joint in hand. She looked to be asleep. Lana had gone to take the joint from her hand when Wendy slowly opened her eyes. A smile spread across the other woman's face. She extinguished the joint and reached for the collar of Lana's jacket pulling the woman down to her lips. Lana had been so taken aback by the sudden gesture that she'd stumbled and fallen flush against Wendy's body. They laughed in unison as Lana repositioned herself on top of Wendy, resting one knee on the edge of the sofa and slipping the other between Wendy's legs, careful not to break their kiss. She can still remember the way Wendy's lips tasted. Like marijuana and wine. "You've been drinking." She said, flinching, as she pulled away from the kiss.
"Just a small glass. Don't worry." Wendy said, placing a palm to Lana's jaw. But Lana felt strange being completely sober while she knew Wendy's brain was buzzing from weed and red wine.
"Let's make an affair of it." Lana got up from the couch and led Wendy into the kitchen where the wine still sat on the counter. She pulled out the loose cork and poured wine into Wendy's empty glass. Curling her fingers inside the waist of Wendy's skirt she took a large sip of the wine and pulled the other woman into her. Their hips, now touching, sent chills down Lana's spine. She guided Wendy back to the sofa and sat down next to her, still sipping at the wine.
She could already feel it coursing through her veins, the alcohol. It made every movement feel slick and natural, almost as if her limbs were destined to travel to those exact places. It made every nerve-ending tingle with a numbing clarity. She set the wine glass down and maneuvered Wendy onto her back. Pushing her flat with kisses and pulling her down by an arm wrapped around an arched back. Now she couldn't tell where the taste of wine was coming from. If it was from her own lips, or Wendy's. Lana tugged at the buttons on Wendy's blouse while Wendy slowly untucked Lana's from her skirt. She ran her fingers over the smooth firm skin of Lana's stomach and inhaled sharply at her own sudden pleasure. Lana, noticing the other woman's sudden gasp, breaks their kiss, undoes the final button on the blouse that she's been working at, and pulls her own shirt up over her head. She can hear the moan that the woman tries to muffle at the sight of her bare shoulders and sculpted stomach. Wendy's reaction makes Lana feel like a prize. She leans back down and gives the woman a kiss that is thick with desire. Their lips press together firmly as they run their hands across flush skin. Lana slowly trails kisses down the nape of Wendy's neck. Down her chest and down her stomach as she pushes the sides of the open blouse apart. When she comes to edge of Wendy's skirt she looks for the zipper and guides it down. Inching the now loose fabric down Wendy's body, Lana lightly bites at the skin of her hips. She pulls off the skirt and finds her way back to the other woman's mouth. She kisses her slowly and plays with the thin fabric left at Wendy's hips. The only barrier between her and the wet heat of her lover.
But Lana hears a scream and the images of Wendy disappear into the night. All that she can see now is the grey and cracking ceiling. A tear falls from the corner of her eye, trailing down her temple and vanishing into her hair. Maybe she's okay.