Some things will be explained in the next chapter. Andddd review...please?
Tegan
November 2008
It got better, I can say that. It got so much better but it still needs so much more. When I toss and turn in my bed each night and find her there, face flushed and eyes shut on the pillow, I thank my lucky stars that she is safe with me, in my bed. The domesticity we have learned to develop in the past few months is everything to us. Our relationship was nowhere near healthy but, slowly, it's getting there. I'm learning not to push and she's learning to trust me more. I've let go of these bad habits thanks to her and she can speak well once again—with an occasional stutter every now and then when she's a bit nervous.
I think leaving Vancouver was the best decision we have ever made. Being together all the time is also a good therapy for both of us. We didn't know we were in such greedy need for each other's company until we came here. Now sitting with each other each night, working on Sara's music or on my reports, or watching anything on TV is our source of comfort. Sometimes I sense colors of tension on Sara, but I try to ignore that because it's easy to get tensed up when you are trying to build a career from scratch.
As much as I miss our friends and especially Emy, I am relieved she is not here. The relationship required mending, and Emy near us would have not mended it. But Emy was right in one thing: we are the only ones capable of getting it back the way it is. We were the only ones who were able to build ourselves. Our families helped, but you know what they say, in isolation one finds who they are, and I think we really did find out each other in the company of each other.
Our sex life is not quite glorious but I'm in peace with this. Sometimes Sara would tell me she is in the mood to be touched, we would proceed doing that but in the middle of the act she would recoil. She is not ready, no matter how many times she tells herself that she is. She says she can't enjoy it or get in it because of the fear that still lives within her. Certainly, this hurts me so much because I'm the one who planted this fear. I try not to show it, but she knows and sees and feels. She tries to make me feel better about myself but I can't really just love myself again. I guess that's maybe a good thing because my ego drove us to our doom.
It's been exactly a year since I've laid a hand on her. So much has changed but also not many things. A year without intimate contact between Sara and me, a year that lacked trust and was full of so much pain. But right now at the end of that, I can feel happy remembering the words my mother has told me, remembering how everything will be laughed at, and if not, then just forgotten. It's been also a little bit over four years since I've been with Sara. God, how things have changed since then. It really does feel like yesterday when she shook my hand with a wrinkled nose and shaggy bangs hiding the disgust in her eyes. Now her hair is so short and she has a sweet fringe that she has cut herself. It always falls on her face when she plays the guitar. And when she's asleep like she is now, the beautiful fringe stays on the side of her face. However, when she wakes up, her tiny hairs stand up and the fringe falls on her left eye.
She always wakes up flushed and hot and I think it's cute. She has such a sensitive skin and she always gets some type of a rash. The climate here is not quite suitable for her. We have a big place but our room is insanely warm. I really think the cat fur is playing a role in that, but she doesn't believe me.
The alarm makes me jump as it pulls me out of my fuzzy dream. I move my hand quickly in order to find my phone and put the fucker on snooze. Before I can find it, I feel my girlfriend's body suddenly attacking me. I open my eyes and find her trying to reach my phone by resting her torso on my chest. She giggles when our eyes meet and quickly hops back to her side with my phone is in her hands. She bites her plump lower lip as she messes with the buttons.
"What are you doing?" I say groggily.
"Trying to see if you've got any other secret admirers other than that girl Ashlyn." I laugh as I brush my face. "Is that even a name? Ugh"
"Seriously, babe. Just let her go. She's not even my type." Girls still try their best to allure me or seduce me in any type of way. Ashlyn is just your typical, American blonde who works at the company. We had to work together for over a week because she's quite good with management, so dad recommended her when I asked him for help when I had enough with the shit my employees were making me go through. I was still new and lacked experience in work. I needed some guidance from someone who wouldn't mock me. However, I got someone who tried her absolute best to make me like her. It seems to me that people don't really believe it when I tell them I have a girlfriend. Even when Sara visited, everyone seemed bewildered with the idea that I am a woman who is in a steady, calm, and normal relationship with another woman, who happens to be so firkin hot and six years older than I am. Some still think I'm lying. My assistant, Smelly Joe, thinks Sara is my sister.
"Mhm." Sara says, looking at my phone with intense focus.
"My boob hurts because of the way you just sat on it." I shift to my side and stare at Sara's relaxed, beautiful, and calm features. I yawn.
"Your mum and dad moved in together." Sara holds up my phone, showing me the text message my mum has sent last night.
I sit up and grab my phone, reading my mother's message over and over again with an open mouth. "Holy shit," I mutter. "Those horny fuckers." I look at Sara, who's giggling shyly. "Wow. Who would've thought? The years I spent begging them to get back together to give me a baby brother or sister, man. Like, do you know how many? Wow." I start texting my mother back.
"Well, I'm h…happy for them." I look at Sara, who is smiling sweetly. "I have a weird question."
"What is it?"
"Y…you don't have…I mean, you're the only one they have conceived, right? You don't have another sibling, who's maybe adopted or, like, your mum and dad haven't gotten a baby before you at all and the baby…uh…died or something?" Sara brushes her soft hair out of her face. I look at her for mere seconds, trying to guess where did that eerie thought has come from. Sara keeps getting weirder because of her situation. At times I feel like she's obsessed with the idea of adoption or children lost or finding her parents, even though she has given up seeking that.
"Why would you think that?" I ask nicely, not wanting to hurt her feelings. "I mean, I don't really know of the existence of anyone but me."
Sara shrugs. "I heard them talking about a baby once, wanting their baby or something. I couldn't really pay attention."
"When?" I look at our cat trying to climb our bed. I reach a hand and pick Cyndi up, putting her on my lap. Sara stares at the furry cat and smiles, loving the fact that I am no longer scared of this tiny monster.
"When we were there in the summer. When I woke up because of my cramps. I heard some stuff before going to the bathroom. I shouldn't have stayed and eavesdropped but I was just surprised."
"Oh." I look at my girlfriend, trying to think of what she has heard and trying to come up with a proper explanation. I don't remember my mother or father ever mentioning having anybody but me. Sara didn't even give me enough clues. They could have been talking about me, calling me a 'baby'. "Maybe you were so fucking pained you didn't hear well. I really don't even remember anything like that. Like, nothing was suspicious while I lived with them. Plus, why wouldn't they tell me?"
"You're right. I don't know. That day is just blank. I was in pain, like you said. I was sleepy. I was on so much meds. I was probably hallucinating."
"Or," I say, grinning, "they want to have a baby." I gasp. "Oh my god, what if they do?"
"Oh." Sara's brow wrinkles when she raises her eyebrows. She takes the cat and puts her in her lap.
"Holy shit. That would be cute."
"Aren't they a bit old for that?" Sara laughs.
"Nah, my aunt just had her new kid and she's older than mum." I get up and stretch. "Gotta go to work." I look back and watch Sara back in bed, cuddling with the cat. "Aww, mummy Sasa. How cute are you."
"Shut up." She says with a faint giggle. "Go get ready. I prepared something for you to wear."
"Aren't you gonna get up?" I ask as I stand up, stretching and yawning again.
"I'll just sleep a little bit more then get up. I have to…I have to finish the song today and send it. I have to get the groceries, too." Sara yawns as she says her last sentence. Her nose crinkles first then she sneezes. I walk up to her and kiss her forehead. I see a little pout on her lips and understand her plea so I lower my lips and touch hers. A giggle forces its way out of her lips when she touches my face, endeavoring to add more pressure in our kiss.
"I don't wanna be late," I whisper in a voice that makes me blush. My arousal often declares itself through the raspiness of my octave. Sara's arousal is usually thick and prominent in the early hours of the morning as well, something I haven't figured out till now.
"I don't want you to be late," Sara murmurs then rests her head on the pillow again. She sighs and closes her eyes. Our cat climbs up on her chest and decides to make her breasts a pillow to sleep on.
"This cat is luckier than I am."
Sara opens her eyes as a guffaw leaves her beautiful mouth. "Oh, Teetee, you've been jealous of the air that touches me lately."
I roll my eyes playfully as I pace to the door. "Please," I say, "I know your heart beats for my love." I wink before leaving.
My day starts when I say goodbye to Sara. Coffee is the first thing that comes to mind when I am exposed to the frozen November air. Coffee will wake me up since I haven't gotten any proper sleep because of the cat waking up and munching her food loudly in the middle of the night. I love my job and I'm finally capable of handling everything on my own. They call me 'Hulk', which doesn't bother me anymore. I am not even huge in mass to be called that, but I guess, as my mum said; they feel threatened by females in power.
Leaving Sara alone and going to work each day always gives me some sense of irritation, maybe because I worry about her. She's a big, smart woman, but I am often perturbed by the thoughts she declares out loud. When I knew that suicide twinkled in her mind on daily basis, I couldn't leave the house for days. Simply put, I was disappointed and shocked. I have already removed the sharp objects and medicines just in case; I didn't know the chance was permeating inside her skull. I wasn't aware that the thought was alive. Even though she's so much better now, I still feel a pang of apprehension as soon as I close the door.
I take a deep breath as I step in. As soon as I am inside everything calms down. I have this vision that everyone runs and shouts at each other before I enter and when I do, they shut up. It's too farfetched and I blame the movies for doing this to my brain, but this thought gives me enormous confidence to start my long day.
"Ms. Quin," I hear a soft voice behind me. I don't look; I let the woman continue as I walk to my office, "we're having a few issues with the Ricky reports. There seems to be an error in the taxes."
I look back at her—someone I don't know—and respond, "I know. I've discussed this before with Mr. Quin. Send all the records and files to Jane and Larry, let them review them again, and after that they should be sent to me." I turn around, proudly smirking when I see the blush on her face.
"Yes, ma'am," she whispers and her steps disappear as we depart.
"Ms. Quin," I hear a voice I'm so used to, a voice that vexes me and reminds me why I drink so much coffee now. I take my first sip, waiting for Joe to ruin my morning. "Mr. Quin is on line 2, and the Ricky situation seems to be getting a bit more complicated. He's angry, I assure you."
"Okay, Joe." I sigh as I reach my office. He follows, handing me the landline. "I got it," I say—a sign for him to leave.
"Talk," he says.
"Leave," I say calmly. He almost trips as he backs up. I've never seen a man this clumsy and nervous around me. It makes me feel awesome.
"Hey, dad."
"Tegan, I want you to send me all the reports and files you're working on regarding the Ricky situation, the bastard has faked the taxes and paid some of your employees to ignore that."
"What?" I sit down, unbuttoning my jacket. "Dad, nobody ignored anything. I was just told there's an issue and I told them to review it again before sending it to me. I know there's something wrong. I just wanted to check it again so I would make sure I'm not making a mistake." I feel heated as anger attacks me. I take off my black jacket and stay in the burgundy sleeveless shirt. Sara has decided to prepare the tightest sleeveless shirt I own and I didn't have time to fish for something else. I haven't worn tight clothes since 2005, and I'm not comfortable in these anymore.
"Okay, okay." My father sighs. "I don't want you to get involved in this, Tegan."
"You think I can't handle it? I can't handle a man breaking the law? I can handle that and I'm watching my employees closely, I know when to punish and when to fucking stop someone."
"Relax, would you?" he says loudly. I hear a soft voice near him. I recognize the voice instantly. I relax a bit.
"Mum's there?" I say, smiling goofily.
"Yes."
"Aww. I'm so happy for you."
My dad relaxes, too. He gives me the laugh I love so much, the one I inherited from him, which assures me he's not angry with me. "We're happy, too."
"Am I gonna have a baby sister or brother soon? Please, please?"
"Tegan," my dad says, clearing his throat, "we're discussing work. Discuss these things with your mother."
"Fine." I sip more of my coffee. Joe opens the door just a crack and pushes his grim, sickening, revolting face. "Ugh, what do you want?"
"Uh…uh…" Joe hesitates.
"Not you, dad. I'm talking to Joe."
"Alright. Listen, Tegan," my dad says. I wave Joe off, but he doesn't leave.
"Yes, dad."
"I do trust you and trust your work. If I didn't, I wouldn't have given you this position. I just really don't want you to deal with this man without me checking the records first. Please do send everything to me."
"Okay." Joe steps in and my eyes are ready to shoot daggers at him the closer he gets. "Give me some time and I'll email everything."
"Take care and say hi to Sara," dad says.
"I will. Say hi to mum for me." Joe scans my torso carefully, making me hate and despise the day I have taken this office. A middle-aged man, who is divorced and lives with his five children, is the last person I need to look at me as a piece of meat. I've had my fair share of sexual harassment when I was young and I'm honestly sick of such men, even if it's just a look. I can't fire him because of his situation. I'm only hoping it's just his unkempt looks that throw me off and not him as a man that seems so filthy.
When dad and I hang up, I don't pay attention to Joe standing right here like a rotten wall; I proceed doing my work as I ignore him.
"Ms. Quin," I hear the soft voice once again and lift my head up. My smile betrays me as it shows on my face before I even think of it, "Sorry to bother you. The door was open and Joe was not there so…"
"Well, if Joe did his job well, he wouldn't be here, but anyway, you're not bothering me. What's up?"
"Here are some of the Ricky files. Larry refused to review these once again."
"Refused?" I raise my eyebrow at her, which apparently scares her, or that's how it seems to be from her body language. Sara told me if someone takes a step back and their lips part, it means they feel threatened, or something is throwing them off. "This is his firkin job. He doesn't just refuse to do something. I've had enough with the men in this company not wanting to do their job just because I fucking tell them to do it. You know what, leave it to me, I know how to deal with this." Anger often gives me the worst stomach pains and heartburns, especially if I keep consuming coffee. Right now I can feel the pain developing because of the stress level that I sucked only in the first half an hour of work.
"Oh…okay," the woman says reluctantly. She drops the folder on my desk and leaves without saying any word. Joe is standing like one of those statues I'd like to fucking smash just to feel better.
I take a deep breath in order to relax and stop the violent thoughts my mind is starting to think of.
"Who's that?" I ask.
"That's Becca."
"Who's Becca?" I ask louder. My anger isn't subsiding.
"Oh…oh, uh the new internal auditor."
I nod, feeling the pain in my stomach and the burn increase. "You can go," I tell him. "Wait, go get me any fucking antacid medicine you fucking find because everything is being ripped apart inside of me." He nods quickly and leaves.
...
Warned against it, but have already made a habit of it: eavesdropping. Without it, I wouldn't have known what my employees say about me behind my back. "The bitch", "Hulk", and the one dear to my heart "pussy hole" are names I've gotten used to, and they didn't really affect me that much anyway. I've heard things such as: She's got a stick up her asshole; she has serious anger issues; I feel sorry for her girlfriend; I bet she's on anger management pills; she can't rule, she's just angry and that's how she gets things done; she's a loser when it comes to management. This is what I call type two of insults, they did hurt me and made me try to change my strategies; however, the effect wasn't efficient or strong enough to last longer than three days.
Type three, on the other hand, seems to be hitting home. She seriously needs to get laid. I can't even stop thinking about these baleful words from Becca. I only stalked because (besides being a creep) I feel a bit attracted to her voice. She looks okay: auburn hair, brown eyes, softly tanned skin, short but taller than me, and petite. Sara is way prettier and so much hotter but there is something about this woman that just attracted me. It could be the nose or the smile; it feels so happy and I miss happiness in my life and in my home. It also could be that I am indeed sexually frustrated and her voice allured me into being attracted to her. Guilt didn't touch me yet, which makes me feel guilty.
Sara is a barmaid in one of the most famous lesbian bars in NYC, and this gives me an excuse to flirt as she is always flirted with, even in my presence. The sexual need is betraying my faith, but I know I am faithful because I know that the only person my mind thinks of before falling asleep is the woman who falls asleep beside me, and the first thought that comes to my mind in the morning is a thought involving the woman beside me. I know my heart only wants Sara, and even though it terrifies both of us, I am proud of it.
She seriously needs to get laid, my mind repeats. Maybe she'd chill; maybe she's like that because she's sexually frustrated. She's just so…there's something so off about her. The tattoos are such a turn off. How can she have a girlfriend with such negative energy and so much anger? Going into her office is like going inside a chimney…it's just so polluted in there. I honestly feel bad for her partner, whoever she is. She's…she's not professional, you know. Like, her jacket was off and her tight shirt was just not…appropriate for work. I know she's the boss, but she has to dress professionally and act professionally. She's just…a turn off…to me at least. I want my women looking and acting smart, not just holding positions they're not qualified to hold.
Of course I am crying on the way home. My stomach does hurt me and it's not an excuse but Joe thinks it is. Joe doesn't know why I feel upset, but he saw the continuous frowns and heard the shake in my voice when I stepped inside my office again. I couldn't cry in front of him. I caged my pathetic display of emotions for an hour and twenty minutes. I wanted to burst. My tears erupted as soon as I left the building. I sent my father what he wanted and left the place early. Maybe talking to Sara about it will help. She knows how to help, she always knows. She doesn't rebuke; she waits and gives me space. She doesn't mock me; she understands and tells me how to deal with my silly thoughts. Oh, she never thinks my thoughts are silly; she respects every tear and listens to each word. Sara simply knows me.
I discover the absence of Sara when I reach home. My cat greets me with incessant meowing and tugging at my feet. I pick the ball of fur in my arms and kiss its head. I search for my girlfriend but she's nowhere to find. "Where's mummy, huh?"
I decide that the cat won't give me an answer and the best way to find out is by calling Sara.
"Hey, Teetee," her mellow voice is pouring rain on a desert. I sit still on the stall against the kitchen counter with my cat in my lap and listen. "What's up?"
"Sare?" I pet the purring cat and look at the tree-shaped clock upon the wall: 3:07. "Where are you?"
"I'm on my way home." Her voice is excited and full of the joy I seldom hear. Sara giggles. "Are you alright?"
"I'm home," I say unenthusiastically.
"Oh, how come?"
"I'm having a terrible day and I don't feel well."
"Oh, Tee, I'm down the street. Uh…I would tell you to go down and see what I have but uh…I'll…I'll show it to you later." Her voice doesn't carry the cheery ring anymore; however, an affectionate touch of concern is visible in her lisping tongue.
"No, babe. I'll be down. You got me excited."
I take Cyndi down the apartment complex and wait for Sara. The cold is getting thicker, making my nose run. I don't have any tissues with me so I wipe my nose with the back of my hand and shiver as I wait for my girlfriend.
A red and black bicycle makes its way down the street. Sara presses on the little black ball that honks. Her giggles force my bewilderment to turn into a smile. Sara honks again as she stops next to me. She looks proud and happy. Happy, a simple word, but carries so much meaning that I can see on her features. Sara looks happy.
"Look!" Her cheeks are flushed and so is her nose. I reckon the cold is the reason. She hops down. Her breaths are quite heavy. "What do you think?"
"Nice," I say. "Where will you park it?"
"In the garage next to your car, duh." She takes Cyndi and kisses her. Sweet and playful sounds ease out of Sara's lips as she plays with the cat.
"Sara." I chuckle. "This is New York. I barely even use my car. Why would you buy a bicycle? Everything is right here around you."
I see a glimpse of eyes rolling at me. Sara shakes her head instantly. The right corner of her lips goes up, faking a smile creeping behind luminous dimness. I purse my lips as regret hits my chest. I shouldn't have said it this way.
"You know I can't walk too much because of my back. I wanted a bicycle since ever. I have the money, I got it." She shrugs.
"I just worry." I try to give her a soft, truthful smile but my efforts are unmet.
She sighs. "Why?"
"What if you fall and hurt yourself?"
Sara laughs melodically, touching my right arm. "Oh," she says. "I won't. I know how to ride a bike, Tegan."
"Promise?" I attempt a smile once again. She smiles back as I succeed in gaining her merriness back.
"I promise," she whispers. The cat is trying to jump out of her hands but I catch it. "I think we should get inside. What's up with you, are you okay?"
"My stomach hurts like a motherfucker and I have heartburn." When Sara inquires, I am reminded of the issues that are bothering me. A cloud of dark mist covers my mind as the feeling of unworthiness pours down on me. I tear up, giving my girlfriend unsure frowns of confusion.
"You're worrying me."
"Can you make me some soup and listen to me vent?"
"Of course," Sara says, tilting her head to the side and squinting as if she's trying to read the words inside my head.
…
"So you got insulted by a hot lesbian who works for you, who didn't know you were listening to her talk on the phone?" I nod as I swallow the creamy goodness of the mushroom soup Sara has prepared. My tears have dried up but I still feel tensed up that my legs are shaking. "This is why listening to other people's conversations isn't a good idea and I've already warned you against it." Her fringe falls smoothly on her eyes but her long fingers hurry pushing the brown locks and tucking them behind her ears. Her eyebrows raise and a puff of air escapes her lips. I wish I can see her the way she sees me or understand her the way she understands me but I am not a therapist; I don't have a psychology degree.
I start to cry again. "I am a bad person. That's what's shocking me. It's not because she's the one who said these words, it's because I am horrible and everyone wonders why the fuck you're with someone like me."
"Calm down." Her voice is so soft and full of charming alleviation that when I hear it my tears cease. "Calm down," she whispers again. I feel her hand stopping the tremor my legs are causing. The golden color of her eyes focus on mine and every earthquake inside my chest sleeps. "Breathing exercises," she mumbles. My mouth parts and she nods. I begin performing what she has delicately taught me to do when my anxiety devours me. "Slowly," she sings, "gently, peacefully." I close my eyes to focus on her voice. "Breathe in then out…slowly, gently, and peacefully." I follow her steps. My breathing steadies. My body becomes numb, controlled by her voice alone. "There's nothing wrong with you. Nothing at all. Bosses should be like that and employees talk the way students whine and grumble at their teachers in school." I nod. "Nothing is wrong with you. You are a great human being. You are a good person. You are lovely. You are with me because I am with you and I love being with you and I can't imagine myself not being around you even if our circumstances are hard." I open my eyes. Hers are teary. A smile is stretched on her face. "If I wasn't with you, Tegan, be sure my heart is with you. We've come a long way, be sure of my words and remember them when you feel shaken."
I gape at her, my words trying to find a way out. The tiny mushrooms are swimming in the thick white sauce the way she made my dark thoughts wrinkle, shrink, and drown inside the warmth and goo of her passionate words. "How can you do that?"
"Lesbian magic," she says and I snort. "I love you when you laugh. I mean, I…" She looks down, as a little chuckle leaves her lips. Her ears are fiery and red. "I always love you, but when you laugh you just touch me in deeper places."
I widen my eyes as push the spoon in my mouth. "Deeper places?" She nods, giggling. "So I'm touching the deeper places without being inside there?"
"Yeah," she murmurs.
"I'm so glad I had tummy pain so I left work and Smelly Joe and was dramatic and then you made me feel better and I touched you in deeper places."
"Tee," Sara whines, giggling loudly and beautifully. "Don't mock my use of words."
"I am not, I swear." I take her small hand and squeeze the softness. "I am flattered."
"And I'm sorry I picked that top today. I thought it looked hot and I wanted to see you in it, and I'm so right it looks hot, but I agree…it…it doesn't seem appropriate since…" Sara points at her own breasts hidden well behind thick navy fabric. I look down at my chest to see my piercing poking through the shirt. "I'm sorry that smelly man looked at you that way."
"It's fine." I let go of her hand to wipe the remains of the creamy soup off my lips. "I just don't feel comfortable with tight clothing anymore. I feel like…it's…I'm too old to be offering my tits to strangers like I used to do."
"You're twenty-two!" Sara remarks. I shrug. "Why don't you fire that smelly man if he smells so bad and you hate him so much?"
"He has five kids, no way. I wouldn't do that to someone who needs the job more than I do."
Sara's eyes narrow when her smile widens. "Does he smell so bad? Like, does he smell like shit or sweat or bad morning breath or what?"
"None," I say. "He smells like something wet and rotten. Like…cheese. I don't know. Just a bad smell…like, he smells like a man." Sara's eyebrows both stand up and I shrug. "I just don't like that smell.
…
This part of the weekend is the one I don't look forward to at all. This part of the weekend is the one that Sara waits for impatiently. Two days of the week from eight till two in the morning I have to watch my girlfriend in the skimpiest outfit that I have seen her in, flirting with strangers, making mouthwatering cocktails, and getting hit on by the hottest and richest lesbians in town. Sara loves it and Tegan definitely feels jealous.
My eyes travel down the exposing, insanely tight white top on my girlfriend's body. The alcohol scorching my throat is also kindling the fire in my pants. Her breasts are as pale as her shirt, squeezed and made so deliciously inviting to the eyes of strangers. The shirt stops at her bellybutton, revealing cold paleness once again. I look up at her smiling eyes as she hands a drink to a woman with flaming red her and a seductive smile. My eyes meet hers for a second but I avert my gaze and take a sip of whatever she has given me.
Another stranger occupies her. This time she's a blonde. The blonde smiles at me. Uninterested, I look back, my gaze paralleling the start of the short black shorts. I can see only a glimpse of the scratchy material clinging to my lover's meaty thighs, but I know the picture quite well because I've seen her dress herself and undress herself for the past four weekends.
It was hard at first, for her more than me, to walk around with such exposure. In front of the mirror her lips frowned as she spun around, not knowing how to tuck her ass cheeks under her shorts. "I have to wear thongs, I guess. Like, g-strings or something." She sighed.
"As much as I'd love that, I'm not quite ecstatic about this look. Your ass is out and your tits are gonna burst out of the shirt. It's your body, for sure, but Sara you've never been comfortable with this."
Sara sighed again and looked at me with boggled eyes. "I want to work more than anything, Tegan. I want to try at least." She looked down at her feet. "Please understand."
"I understand," I said quickly. "Of course I do."
"I'm just…not sure I can get used to exposing so much of my body to hot lesbians, especially when it's sufficiently hairy and full of stretch marks."
"No, Sara," I said. "Don't feel this way about your body, please. It's wonderful and since they already accepted you I don't think they mind how you look."
Sara is hot if she has gorilla hair or was the fattest person ever. Maybe I'm saying this because I love her but I can't notice any of the flaws she repeatedly speaks of. Now I am the jealous person who cannot stop scowling at the eyes of strangers ogling my girlfriend's body as if it is some exotic picture. Nobody even pays attention to the strippers.
"One of that South Side for the lonely lady over here." I feel a hand touch my shoulder. I look up at the tall woman with dark wavy hair and glasses smirking at me.
I look back at Sara, who's hesitant with a frown. "I have a drink." I point at the glass in front of me. "And I'm not lonely; I'm here with my girlfriend." I point at Sara.
The woman stares at both of us for a second and blinks. Redness covers her pale cheeks as she nods slowly. "I am sorry, I swear I thought you two were…uh…sisters or something. I've been coming here for the past two weeks and you're always sitting here alone, I just thought…" she falters, shaking her head at herself. "Well, I'd say she's lucky to have you but I think you're quite lucky to have her, too." The woman raises her glass after taking a small sip. "Best drink I've had and best smile I've seen. Cheers ladies." The woman who wanted to buy me a drink winks at my girlfriend and walks away.
"Unbelievable," I mutter. I remove my straw and sip whatever Sara has made, noticing how sweet and delightful it is on my tongue. "This is good. What is it?"
"Just uh…cherry coke and rum, actually. I didn't want to put much and upset your stomach."
"More. I want more."
"But," Sara hesitates. "Okay." She sighs, petting my will.
Sara serves me a drink after another with anxious, unsure eyes. I change my order from the light cherry coke and rum to the mind numbing Ginger Yule, full of God knows what. As the night progresses and the music becomes louder, Sara joins me. My heart eases and my mind forgets its worry. I know in the morning I will suffer the consequences but I have never felt as free as I feel at this moment. It's a moment filled with easy laughter and childish giggles, inside jokes between my girlfriend and myself, and fun, silly games. Sara's less drunk than I am because she has to do her job, but I can see that she will have a terrible time in the morning as well.
We rate some women from one to ten, which is quite unlike us, or mostly unlike Sara. We look at the strippers and moan in sync when we take the sips that warm our bodies. We kiss softly and giggle afterwards, then she returns her attention back to the confused girls waiting in line.
"You know, I really…like, really wanna rip your clothes off. I can only imagine what these girls want to do to you and, like, that's just…God." I take another sip and laugh as I stare at my girlfriend's breasts.
Sara throws her head back with laughter. "There are other barmaids in here and they're hot as well."
"They don't have your boobs."
"Shut up." Sara tucks her fringe behind her ears and blushes when I wink.
"Seriously, though, I am just so jealous. Like, isn't that kind of, like…like, sex selling to make the people who work here dress like that?"
"Sex selling or not…" Sara stops, collecting her words. In such drunken hours she lisps and stutters, but not the way she used to. "It's…it got me the...I mean, a producer that wanted to produce my work and a lesbian…like, like someone who's okay with my music…but, but, like, if dad knows about this he'll end me, you know."
Sara puts another drink in front of me and my bladder strongly protests but my mind willingly takes the offer. "Well, you know, that's pretty much sex selling and you never wanted to do that."
I look at the dancing stripper, feeling my underwear cling to my wet slit. I take a sip, not paying much attention to what Sara's saying back. I point at the hot woman dancing up there and look at my girlfriend. "You see, her pussy looks a lot like yours."
"Boy, you're so fucking wasted," Sara remarks.
"Yeah. Look," I say. "So much like yours, but without the bush."
Cherry redness blotches Sara's cheeks when her eyes meet the woman waiting for her drink. "So pretty," I mumble.
"Tegan," she whispers. She bites her lower lip in maddening shyness.
"I gave that woman so much imagination, didn't I?" I say.
"She thinks we're weird." Sara takes a look at the stripper and blushes again. "Oh, God, Tegan…mine doesn't look like that."
"It does…but like this one's not hairy. I mean…" I stop making much sense as I imagine everyone around me naked and every surface a mattress.
"I thought you like my bush," offended, Sara says.
"Oh, fuck. I fucking love it. I'll tug it with my teeth if you'd let me eat you out." Sara giggles loudly as I light some type of fire inside her.
Our walk home is fast and full of high-pitched laughter and hungry kisses. Sara throws her coat and rids herself off her clothes as soon as I close the door. We both hurry to the bathrooms. Sara takes the one in our room and I run to the one in the hallway. We meet in the bedroom, both naked and aroused. We both collapse on our bed, laughing some more. We haven't gotten this wasted since Emy's birthday two years ago, and now here we are ready to love each other physically but unable to tell what we really want mentally. Sara doesn't show one single indication of disapproval as she parts her legs and pulls me on top of her.
This is not the first time this has happened in the past two months. She did this quite a lot these past few weeks, but as soon as my fingers touched her folds and gave her some morsels of pleasure, she pushed me away, apologizing, promising it's not me she's afraid of, but her mind can't let her relax enough. But I know she's scared of getting too close to me, still too traumatized. I know this too well. I'm not sure what will happen now. She seems eager and needy, needier than ever. She seems relaxed and willing to give and get.
"I've been doing it," Sara whispers when I face her, my body in contact with hers.
"Doing what?" I kiss the puffiness of her red lips.
"Masturbating." She wraps her arms around me and I feel the hardness of her nipples on my pierced ones.
I give her a hungrier kiss, feeling her wet tongue asking for more. I moan in her mouth when she gives me space to enter. My tongue touches hers and I begin venturing in the sweetness she offers, rolling my nipples with hers despite the light pain it gives me. Her hand takes a hold of my hair and pulls, which makes me pull away, trying to catch a breath.
"Watching our videos and imagining you," she continues with a low, pleading voice. "I want you."
"You do?" I grin wickedly and teasingly.
My hand is gripped by her warm one and gingerly directed between our bodies to land on the thick curls covering her mound and slide to the thick saturation between her legs. My clit twitches in excitement when I discover the sea of lust. My lips smack hers without much thought when my libido blinds what's left of my consciousness. Waves moving gradually and in a steady rhythm, our bodies start to move together as my fingers glide between her velvety slit and touche her hot folds.
Slowly, she starts to arch her back and her legs part beneath me. She bites my lower lip with a soft moan. "Please," she whispers. "Do…do what you said in the…in there."
"You want me to go down on you?"
"Yes." I look at her, waiting for any sign of disapproval. "Please, Tegan."
Without having to hear her beg anymore, I begin the desired actions of my mouth by giving her a long passionate kiss, sliding my tongue down to her chin and moving back to her ear, nibbling slightly and licking the flesh behind. Whimpers of elation leave her lips. Fingers rub at her clit, waiting to be stopped at any moment; my other hand cups her breast, feeling the erect nipple on my palm.
Her skin is so hot underneath my admiring tongue. Her chest heaves when I start to suck her neck, searching for the sweet spot that makes her jump. I bite gently the more I descend until her free nipple falls between my lips. A high pitched moan fills my ears when I suck. Sara arches her back, pushing her breast in my mouth. I forgot how much she loves this. I pull away to look at her. Her eyes open in confusion and her brow wrinkles.
"You still love this?" I flick my tongue over a nipple just to watch the twitch in her eyes.
"Yeah," she breathes sharply.
I give her what her body is asking for and pull her nipple with my lips then let it go with a pop. I do the same with the next one but bite gently instead as she squirms underneath me. She begins to giggle while I travel down her belly, biting the soft flesh or tonguing her belly button. When I reach the triangle of hair, I take a deep breath, inhaling the luscious scent I've missed so much. The thumb that pressed on her engorged clit is exchanged with soft blows from my lips; making her writhe and push her body upward in hopes she'd meet my mouth. I laugh as I fulfill her wish, tugging at the hair with my teeth and pulling her more to my face. I avoid her cunt as much as I can. I kiss her thighs and lick around her lips. I take a look at the beautiful sight between her legs to control myself. I want to ravish her and bite every inch of her as she pours into my mouth the way she's forming a puddle on the white sheet beneath her. I look up at her, coyness blanketing her. Her entire face is flushed and I bet mine is, too. I swallow hard, thanking whoever is listening for giving me so many chances to be with her.
I expect to be pushed away as I push my face forward, ready to engulf this swollen button between hungry lips. I only hear a shriek and feel a hand on my head, pulling the hair on my scalp. Her taste is so shocking that my tongue is racing with my mind. I can't even control myself and I am an idiot for thinking that I can. I've been deprived of this taste since the past year that I can't even care to take a breath. I am actually an animal, now I am sure of it. I suck without giving her or myself a rest. My tongue twirls and runs in her folds. I feel her pooling inside my mouth whenever I'm at her entrance. I look up at her and she looks at me with a dopey smile. I flick the hood of her clit and she jerks, than I bite the little bud making her legs wrap around my head as she pushes her body towards me and I pull with my teeth.
I breathe on her cunt and kiss her beautiful petals, dragging my stiff tongue to her waiting entrance. I push and as soon as I do, she begins to ride my face. With my entire face in her pussy and my nose rubbing her clit, my tongue inside her warm walls, Sara erupts inside my mouth. My tongue doesn't stop until the waves of her body calm down and the feminine whimpers go silent. Her trembling legs go limp. I drag my tongue lazily all over her vulva, cleaning her, wishing the favor would be returned but knowing better.
I climb up above her once again as the bed groans in protest. She smiles when my face is inches with hers. I kiss the lips she has abused with biting. She reacts to her taste on my tongue, intensifying the kiss.
The fear of being rejected descends when I fall next to her, sighing with content and smiling to myself. I hold her hand and squeeze. "You are beautiful."
Sara sits up, taking me by surprise. "Thank you," she says, smiling widely. Her eyes are lazy and her hair is sticking up in each direction. Her fringe is damp and her neck is red. "I don't wanna stop," she whispers, sliding the tip of her index up and down my stomach. "I'm not done yet and I wanna touch you if you want."
I sit up, too—happy, ready, and taken aback. "Please."
Before my eyes can collect the picture, Sara is walking around in my room, opening the door for the cat and letting her in. "Hey," she whispers. "What are you doing? I thought you were asleep." The cat walks in, searching for her food.
"She's hungry," I say. "Is she gonna ruin our time?"
"Just leave her alone. We'll get under the covers and she'll get bored and go away."
…
Sara comes out of the closet with the box I thought we'd never use. Obviously, her state of drunkenness has unleashed all the monsters hiding in her brain. We both laugh when she trips and falls on the mattress with the box falling with her. She grabs the yellow dildo and sends me a wicked smirk.
I gulp, not sure if I can take this one when I haven't had anything bigger than my two fingers inside me since our birthdays. However, my clit thinks I can take it. The little fucker jumps in excitement that I feel inclined to slap it. Knowing that's just too weird, even if I'm so fucking wasted, I decide to spoil it this time. I spread my legs for Sara, who prepares some lube.
"I won't uh…strap, because…" Sara hiccups, laughing some more and wiping the sweat off her brow. "Because my back hurts."
I don't care, just do it, do it. Do it. "Okay."
Sara kisses me, hiccuping and laughing each second. I don't think the effect of the alcohol will leave us soon. She rubs my clit for awhile until I tell her to fuck me with the dildo. She gasps like a child hearing a curse in a public place. She giggles again and begins to push the tip of the fake cock inside. I can hear the drumming in my heart the way I heard it in hers few minutes ago. I'm sure it's the alcohol that's making everything seem so hazy for me.
Sara's hands are shaking so I grab them and help her. She titters and her boobs bounce. I reach for one and squeeze, intensifying her laughter. I begin to push the dildo in myself slowly.
"Oh my God," Sara says with a gasp. "Go away." I use my elbows to sit up. The cat sitting next to Sara between my legs. I close my legs. Sara falls down with loud, exaggerated laughter.
"Fuck," I mutter. "Get the fuck off, Cyndi." The cat meows.
"Oh my God." Sara shakes her legs, giving me a view of the wetness still so bright coating her pussy.
I push the cat a way and pull Sara up, handing her the dildo eagerly. "Fuck me." I lie down, offering Sara what I have.
Sara throws the duvet above us and sits between my legs once again. We can't stop laughing and I'm not sure where this is coming from. But when I feel the thickness filling me, my ability to join Sara in laughter halts. I curl my toes as the lengthy phallus stretches me. I take a hold of her hand when she offers it and squeeze my eyes shut. I sense the sudden gentleness of her touch, realizing that she's not completely gone; she's still able to tell when I'm in pain.
Slow and nice, but it's the worst sex I've ever had from Sara. Her messy moves and constant distraction with her own body delays my orgasm. It comes all of a sudden and does not last for long, and as soon as I come, she pulls me above her and demands my fingers to be inside.
…
Sara has already come three times and the cat is asleep on the mattress. I am exhausted. It's almost five in the morning but Sara still wants more and I am more than happy to offer my services. My exhaustion shall be damned, I'm glad we took a nap after our talk.
"What do you want now?" I ask, wiping Sara's residue off my lips. "Do you want toys? I didn't do you with those."
"No, no," she shouts. Puzzled, I scan her glowing body full of marks of the love I carry for her. Too bad she's too drunk to see it. I wonder if I'll remember this in the morning. I wonder if she will. "I'm not sure I can do toys. You know, it's been too long."
"Yeah." I sigh. "What do you want, babe?"
"I don't know. Just make me come one more time. I can't stop being horny." She hides her face, laughing at herself.
One more time becomes four out of seven, and five in the morning becomes half past six. The sun shines and Sara falls asleep in the eighth attempt, before reaching her orgasm. My tired mouth and exhausted fingers hate me. My head is pounding; I have no idea how I lasted this long without collapsing. I can't even believe Sara came seven times and still wanted more. I don't even want to think about what's going to happen when we wake up. I don't even know when we will wake up.
My head falls on her mound and my eyes meet the big orange ones of my cat, staring at the scene either with bewilderment or without any fucks given. "I don't think I can move, Cyndi," I whisper. "Behave while we sleep, okay?"
I watch my cat jumping out of our bed as my vision starts to blur. Finally, I can rest.