Tegan
My nerves are bad. My stomach is cramping. I feel like I want to vomit or shit my pants right there as my girlfriend and I walk the New York streets in this freezing weather. I feel no cold, only scorching heat that smolders my body. My hand grips hers so tightly and our sweat mingles together. Our steps are slow and careful as we walk to our destination way earlier than we should because we're scared we would miss the day both of us (her more than I, I'm sure) have waited for since she was promised a record deal.
I want her to sign the contract and I want us to celebrate afterwards. I want her happiness to be vocalized and reach each house in this city. When she told me a producer gave her card and asked for Sara to send her a demo, I never thought this woman would ever reply back, not because I don't have faith in my girlfriend's abilities, but because I know the people in the business, I know what corporate is, I know when someone says something, they never mean it. I was surprised when she told me this woman called and asked to have a business meeting at some fancy restaurant both Sara and I haven't heard of before.
"Bloomsbury," Sara said, "the name of the restaurant. It's not far from here. We can walk."
"I never heard of it."
"We never go to that rich people's area, Tegan."
"We are rich people, though."
"Well…" Sara chuckled. "You are, not me." I frowned but didn't say anything, I was too excited, I didn't want to have an argument about the same old boring subject that Sara cannot let go of: who pays the bills and buys the groceries and owns the house in this relationship. Even after working, she still cannot see that we are equal and she is not an inferior. It's something in her that she can't easily change, and the reason is me and what I said more than a year ago.
"We're going to sign the contract and discuss it, she said."
"That's amazing. I'm so happy for you."
"I want you to be present with me," Sara told me.
"Really?" Why would she want me to be with her when this issue of independence is what she is trying to overcome?
"Yes, I want your support." Sara wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me.
"Of course I'll be with you."
It's a small record label, Sara told me as we got dressed today. It supports indie artists and helps them out. I can't believe my girlfriend is going to be an artist and going to record an album and going to be famous and have girls all over her.
Girls all over her? I glance at her in terror. I hope only ugly boys will be all over her, not girls. Or ugly girls she's not attracted to. Why is she so attractive?
"Tegan, Tegan," Sara stops me, squeezing my hand. "Relax," she whispers, facing me and looking at me intensely. "Relax," she repeats.
"I'm so excited," I say loudly, too hyper to care about people's dirty looks in the street.
Sara laughs. "I know. I can see that. You started mumbling things to yourself while we were walking. It was cute but…I had to stop you because people were staring."
"Oh, fuck." I take a deep breath and try to calm myself. "I'm just a little nervous."
"You're more nervous than I am." She holds my collar and straightens my plaid shirt. "I'm the one signing the contract, Teetee."
"I know, I know." I lick my thumb and brush her eyebrows.
"Eww." She steps away from me with laughter. "Tegan, don't be disgusting."
"Your eyebrows were bushy, I was fixing them." I take a look at her attire—white shirt, black pants, and a black blazer—formal and hot, good. Her hair is well combed but that friking fringe is all over her eyes.
"That's not the only thing bushy in my body." She rolls her eyes and I push the fringe and tuck it behind her ears. I bite onto the piercing beneath my lip as dirty thoughts cloud up my brain. "Seriously, Teetee, I need to shave," she says. "I need the razor, please. I know you have some hair fetish or something, but I need to shave. I look like a monkey; even girls at the bar are telling me to shave."
"Ugh, screw them. You're the cutest monkey." I earn a glare as we begin to walk again. "Just joking. We'll groom you when we get back, sounds good?"
"I'll groom me and you'll be away."
"Shy monkey." I kiss her cheek, making sure to wet her skin with my saliva and make her squirm. I laugh when she pushes me and shudders. "God, I love making you disgusted." I kiss her in the same spot again and wipe my traces off her cheek. "Oh, shit. I think I ruined your blusher." I begin rubbing my thumb all over her face to even out the pink on each side.
"Tegan," she says with a raspy voice, "we're here." I let go of her face and compose myself. We both know nobody's here yet, but both of us are nervous again as we enter and order a table for three. We don't say much as we stare out of the window and drink our wine in silence. Her legs are shaking rapidly and so are mine. There's an earthquake beneath our table.
A smartly-dressed, middle aged, blond woman approaches our table with the most cheerful smile I've seen in this restaurant since I sat here half an hour ago. I only know it's the woman Sara's waiting for when my girlfriend's cheeks turn red and her smile appears. Sara stands up and I do, too. I attempt to smile at the stranger who says an obnoxious, loud "hi" as she steps closer, blocking me and hugging my girlfriend, also kissing her on both cheeks. This woman is so tall that Sara is squeezed in her arms.
"How are you, Sara," the woman says as she pulls away. My girlfriend's face is flushed and her body language is vibrating discomfort with the sudden touches from a stranger. Sara's okay with being touched casually now, but still is quite uncomfortable. It took her so much time to let me in and trust me again. The sex last week was what proved to her that she was over her fear, she said to me. However, she told our therapist she still didn't like it when somebody hugged her. She didn't like it when Rob did, or when he put his hands on her thighs. The only person she felt safe hugged by was me, her family, and mine. Any other person felt like they were going to take some part of her that she was trying to restore. I, myself, have been through that when I was very young. I told the therapist that and opened up for Sara. Seeing a therapist together helped us both after last week's confusion and drama.
"I'm good. How are you, Ms. Belkin?" Sara asks politely. I smile, waiting to be recognized.
"Very wonderful. Happy to see this beautiful face of yours." I scan the woman upside down. Her suit looks expensive, way more expensive than anything Sara and I own in our closet. I am the manager of the NYC branch of one of the biggest accounting companies, and here I am dressed in a disheveled way. I should have worn a suit like Sara, even if our suits are not that fancy. "Oh, I'm sorry, hi," Ms. Belkin finally says. She stretches her arms in order to shake my hand and I'm glad I didn't get that hug as Sara. "Your sister, right? You look a lot li…"
"My girlfriend."
"Her girlfriend."
Sara and I look at each other as we say at the same time. Sara sighs. "My girlfriend. Tegan Quin, she's my girlfriend." I can sense the irritation in her voice. We've been mistaken for sisters all over NYC, and it never bothered me. I do think we look alike, it's probably because we're both so small, have the same body now that Sara gained a few pounds and have approximately similar features, which is rather normal. It bothers Sara so much, though. We argued at therapy about this point. Sara insisted we don't have features that made us seem like sisters, while I agreed with our therapist who said we do. I don't know why it bothers Sara, lots of couples start looking like each other after awhile.
"Oh, a Quin? Wait a minute, you're Stephen's daughter?" Ms. Belkin says as we shake hands.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Oh, how wonderful. You guys hold all the finances of my label, Cherry and Ice records."
"Oh." I have not heard of them. "That's interesting, I guess. Well, I just got handled over the NYC branch."
"I've heard a very…strong woman took over the management. You seem so young." By strong she means bitchy. Sara smiles as we both read each other's minds.
"I am!"
We both sit down and Ms. Belkin talks more about knowing Stephen, my dad, and working with him for awhile. She talks about her label, which is boring, but Sara acts as if it's the most interesting thing ever.
Ms. Belkin (whose name, I discover, is Sandra) asks me more about work and tells me about the rumors spread about me around. I didn't know I'm that famous around some of the companies my dad's company is working with, but I guess that is a great thing because all of them think that I am tough, hardworking and the most annoying person when it comes to work.
"So let's discuss work, shall we?" Sandra says after the waiter pours another round of wine for the three of us.
"Thank you," my girlfriend says to the man politely. "Uh…yes, sounds wonderful." She smiles at Sandra.
"So, Sara, I didn't want us to meet at the record label because I didn't want this to be all about business, I wanted to get to know you more." Sandra sips more of her drink. I take another sip, too. "I didn't know you were dating a Quin."
"She wasn't with me at the bar when you gave me the card." Sandra's nails are manicured and look attractive as a shade of minty color coats them. Her fingers haven't stopped tapping the table, which is beginning to irritate me. Something about her that I want to punch because it's getting on my nerves. I begin to sweat as she speaks.
"So, business," I say. One, two, three….
"Yes. So, Sara, as we discussed in the email, recording will start hopefully after the New Year." Four…five…six…after the New Year, which means in a month and a half. Seven…eight...
"Ten songs, two singles, two music videos. Of course the budget can be fixed and all, but it's your first record so we're…"
I lose sense of what's around me as I lose myself in counting. The numbers are large as they pop on Sandra's face. Thirty-six makes me laugh because I'm sure that's her age. Thirty-six stays there on her face while Sara looks at me in confusion. Sandra's mouth is huge and her lipstick is attractive. She opens her mouth and closes it as she talks and I can't help but imagine a fly going down her throat each time she opens it again. Her teeth are smudged with her lipstick and so is the rim of the glass she's drinking from.
Sandra stands up all of a sudden. She's tall, like a building that's going to crush me. I've never seen someone so tall, I feel like a midget. "Excuse me." Sandra goes away.
"Tegan," Sara says. "Stop gaping at her like that. She thinks something's wrong with her look."
"Sasa," I mumble, "she's so tall."
"Are you okay, Tegan?"
"I…" Where did I reach with counting? I'm exhausted. "I'm trying to let the panic attack escape my system."
"I know," Sara says. "I felt it." Sara touches my hand. "I'll rub it. Just relax. We're almost done. I'll just sign the contract."
"Then we'll go home and shower?"
"Yes." Sara rubs my thigh. "She's not my type, don't worry." Sara winks at me when she sees Sandra walking our way. I wasn't even assuming that.
"Lastly, we just have a few points at the label," Sandra says as soon as she sits. Her smile is plastic and never fades just like her stupid lipstick.
"We're going to change a few things while recording."
"Such as?" Sara asks.
"We might exchange the musical instruments, some of the lyrics. You know, we don't want people to know you're queer right away. It wouldn't sell. Some songs are too gay to sell well."
"Excuse me?" I say. "Too gay to sell well? Isn't this an indie label?"
"That's true. But we care about selling, too."
"You want her to heterosexualize her music to please you?" My octave begins to rise. Sara squeezes my thigh.
"Tegan," she whispers.
"Ms. Quin, I am queer myself but I don't necessarily have to show it everywhere I go. I dress like everybody else, I talk like them, I use their words in order to be able to fit with them because that's life and that's business whether I like it or not."
"Yet you'll never fit with them because you're not them."
"Tegan," Sara says again, "let me speak."
"Let her speak," Sandra says.
"I'm sorry," I mouth to Sara. She nods slowly.
"Ms. Belkin, you saw me at a lesbian bar and flirted with me, took my number and gave me your card when I told you I make music. I know what attracted you was my looks not my voice and not my lyrics, I know you liked what I showed and thought that's how I dress each day, I know you thought I was single and am so excited to have anything that could be given to me. But you're a bit wrong. I am nothing like you thought. I am androgynous and my style keeps getting more masculine as I grow up, same as my looks. I love it this way, I am comfortable this way even if my demeanor is quite feminine and my body language and physical appearance are womanly. I am a prude and I am not comfortable projecting my body or changing my look to be liked. I am very queer and very out, I don't know how to be otherwise and I don't want to fit in with the other side. I never had a problem with my queerness and it's not my fault that you and your label do. I will never sign a contract that asks me to be someone I am not."
I blink my tears behind my lids, ready to kiss her sweet lips for releasing such beautiful words. She is the luster of the stars in my sky, she is the daisies in the spring, she is a water fountain, the beat of a heart when it's excited.
Sandra blinks as well, in shock more than admiration. She nods quietly. "Sara," she says, "you are a great person. You deserve the best in your life." Sara smiles. No, no, no, we lost a record deal. Sara lost a record deal.
"People like you, Sara, can never survive in the ugliness of this business. You didn't sell your beliefs from the beginning; you're never going to sell them ever. I wish I can sign that contract with you, but I'm not the one in charge." Sandra stands up. "I wish you the very best. Someday, I'm sure you will get what you wish to have now, and it's not a record deal."
Sara stands up and shakes Ms. Belkin's hand. I stand up, too. Sara does not seem sad or shaken. I am scared of the blow I will receive at home. "It's more than that, yes."
"It was nice to meet you, Tegan. Nice to get to know you, Sara. Wish someday we'd meet again."
Sara remains smiling after Sandra leaves. I look at her waiting for the tears. She grabs her wallet in order to pay at the reception. She grabs my hand and pulls me closer. "Come on, let's go home." She laughs softly. "Let's get you into a shower, you need one."
"Sara," I ask in bewilderment, "but…I'm sorry." We start walking again in the chilly weather. Sara is walking faster while pulling me with her.
"Don't be, Teetee," she says with her sweet voice. "I knew it was not going to happen. Business has a place; dates have another. That's why I took you with me. I told her I'm dating in the bar; she decided not to listen or decided she was going to change that by giving me a record deal. I knew how this was planned. I just had some tiny hope, but I shouldn't have."
How can one human being bear so many disappointments and remain hopeful? Sara astonishes me with her strength that keeps getting more vibrant as we both age. The Sara I first met in her pink dorm room is dead and gone; the Sara that lives with me with her short hair and tired eyes is a woman I never thought I would see. I hurt her so much that I don't know the old her anymore. I know that I loved that happy and sweet Sara, but I also love this one whose eyes are too crystal-like from the tears she has shed, and her smile is forced in order to live her days even though they are not what she wishes for.
"Here you go." I walk into our bathroom with everything Sara has required as we were walking back home. "Your razors." I lift up two razors, her old white and orange razor and a new green one I just got while buying a couple of things she requested. "Strawberry shampoo and conditioner." I lift up the two bottles she asked for. "New tweezers. I'm sorry I lost yours. I think this one is good. I swear I used it like three days ago, I don't know where I put it."
"At work, Tegan." Sara laughs. She pushes her hand under the water to feel the temperature. "You took it with you because you were in a hurry. You probably left it there."
"Oh, really? I don't remember using it there…oh, wait…yes, yes…"
"Losing it already, babe?" She starts unbuttoning her white shirt. "I really hate shaving. It's gonna take some time."
"Let me help you then." I take off my shirt faster than her and pull down my pants and underwear while she takes so much time unbuckling her belt. She gives me an amusing look as I stand naked in front of her.
"Help me, huh?" A smirk too pretty appears on her lips. The need to kiss her rises. "You'd do anything to help me if it's something I'm naked in."
"You should be flattered." I take a few steps to the bathtub, ready to step in the water. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," I screech when I jump in the scorching water. "Fuck, oh my god." I step away immediately.
"Oh shit, it's hot?" Sara says with laughter. She adjusts the heat and steps in, taking my hand to pull me closer. "You burned your bum?"
"Yeah," I moan under the relaxing stream. She touches my skin for awhile, caressing up and down and squeezing my flesh.
She closes the faucet after a few minutes and reaches for the shaving cream. "It's going to take awhile." She looks down at her legs. I don't find anything wrong in the hair that has grown there. Her mound and her thighs have so much hair which has begun to bother her lately. I tried making her comfortable with her body and how natural this hair is, but she is still not used to it and I don't think she ever will be used to it.
She sits down in order to shave her legs. I sit down facing her, too. If she's doing it, I'm going to do it, too. I will shave my body with her.
The problem is Sara's too slow and easily irritated. She takes her time while I shave quickly and finish my entire body before she finishes her legs. She looks at me from the corner of her eyes with wonder clearly stuck on her face. I offer to help her but she refuses.
"You don't have to have a bald skin."
"I want to. Can you stop intervening?"
"I'm sorry," I mumble.
...
"Want me to help you?" I ask after a few minutes when she starts complaining about her back. "Come on. You're done with your legs and arms."
"I'm so not going to let you shave my armpit and vagina."
"Why are you so awkward about it? I just shaved those in front of you and you took your time staring."
Sara sits up on her knees. Her breasts sway as she lifts her arms up. "Fine, do it."
"Really?" I sit up as well.
"Just do it."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." She hands me the razor and asks me to come closer.
The situation is exciting and intimate. My hand wraps around her soft skin while my other works on removing the hair under her arms. Our faces are close and our eyes are glued together.
"It turned me on," she whispers.
"What did?"
"When you were shaving down there. It turned me on so much. I don't know why." Her giggle is embarrassed and small. I put her arms down when I finish. I open the faucet to clean the razor off the hair. "Now give me," she demands.
"I'm helping you."
"Not that area," she whispers timidly.
"Why not? Cause I haven't touched it before? Or seen it? Or fucked it? Come on, Sasa, stop being shy around me."
"No, it's just that…" She sits down again and spreads her legs. "What if…what if you take off my labia while shaving? What if you'll hurt me there?"
I laugh too loudly and for too long for her amusement. When I stop laughing, I realize I tore up while her face is free of any expression. "Oh, you're serious?"
She blinks without answering.
"Sara…your labia don't have hair on them."
"But you're very messy while shaving and clumsy and my labia are…too long, okay?" The crimson color blotches her face and upper neck as I laugh more.
I am a little bit embarrassed that she thinks this way and I honestly don't know how to answer her. "I'm not going to hurt you, Sara." She sighs loudly. "And by the way, your labia obsession is really funny…like, why are you so insecure about your pussy? It's like everyone else's."
Sara raises her left eyebrow. "It's like that stripper's pussy last time I checked."
"I was drunk when I said that."
"Doesn't mean it's not true."
"But why are you taking it as an offence? If it was bad, she wouldn't be a stripper. It's basically just like mine and Emy's and like every other girls', there's nothing weird about your pussy or labia."
"Ugh, this is so embarrassing to talk about." She huffs in frustration. "I can't believe you just mentioned Emy and her…"
"You get my point, though." I have distracted Sara while she was complaining about her body and took advantage of the moment to shave her pubic hair carefully. "My labia are long too, just saying," I whisper, hoping she wouldn't hear me.
"I love your pussy, though."
"And I love yours, too." I have never had a conversation weirder than this one and I'm not sure how to shut her up.
"Are you enjoying it?" she asks.
"Very much, actually. I'm getting turned on big time."
"Pervert."
"Speak of yourself." She touches my other hand while gently laughing. "So today," I begin a new topic, something burning in the back of my mind. Sara hums. "While we were sitting with this woman, I had the urge to hurt her…I don't know why. I feel bad that I had this urge. I counted to ten in order to stop thinking and to relax. She annoyed me."
Sara looks up at me for a moment. Her lips lean to one side as she loses the ability to answer me. What would she say anyway?
"I am glad I controlled it. I wanted to tell you, maybe it's not a good idea but I wanted to let it out."
"No, no," Sara says. "I'm so happy you told me. I think that's very courageous of you…speaking up, I mean."
"Yes, I'm trying."
"I'm glad you're speaking up at therapy, too. There's a lot I don't know about you and I'm happy that I'm discovering, even if it feels traumatic to expose it."
"It actually feels amazing to get it out of my system." I give her a big smile that shows my teeth, lifting up the razor to declare I have finished. "As smooth as a baby's bum."
"Shut up." She slaps my arm playfully then stands up.
In the middle of our shower, Sara starts to cry. I know the reason behind her tears so I do not question or bother her. Sometimes silence is the best thing one can give to console grief. I let my hands do the business, rubbing her soft skin; I let my lips join the consoling, kissing her forehead a few times.
We dry ourselves in the tune of her lamentations. I brush my teeth but she cannot join me for her sobs become too loud and too violent, leaving me with the option of speech. I hush her cries first, then I whisper a few words in her ears as I pick her up to take her to our room.
"It's going to be alright." I kiss her wet face as I hold her shaking body to the mattress. She writhes underneath me and shakes in my hands. "I promise you, baby. I promise you." I plant several kisses in attempt to mute the powerful sobs that are piercing my ears.
"Why don't things happen to me? Why did they never happen to me?" She hiccups and wheezes. "Since I was young…since ever, I…I wanted a friend and I barely had anyone then…then Rob came and then…and then I wanted people to know I'm gay and it took so much time…then I fell and hurt myself and couldn't walk for a year and…and I never got a girlfriend until I got Emy…" Another wave of wails interrupts her words. I hold her closer to me. I feel useless at the moment, like those times I hurt her. "Our relationship was rocky and then you came and I loved you but it took me so much time to have you…and then, Tegan, you and I, always, always had impediments in our relationship and we still do…my back, my insecurity, our feelings, my adoption, Emy, your illness and my health…it's like my life is full of impediments that stand in the way of my happiness. It's like I don't deserve it. Why is that? Why don't I deserve it?"
"You deserve it. You deserve happiness. Of course you do." I brush her hair to the back and hold her face. I try to make her bloodshot eyes meet mine but I fail because she keeps them closed. "I want to make you happy. I know the world isn't fair to you but that's because you are a good person. I want you to have the best months of your life, Sara. I…" I wish I gave more efforts, I wish the love in my heart can be vocalized, but I fail in that department; I don't know how to tell her what I feel for her. "I'm taking these two months off from work. I was already planning it. I want us…I want us to have time for each other, only us together. Coming here has already helped us…and I think, honestly…" I chuckle and cry at the same time. "My mum told me to take time for you and I…I think she's right. I want you to be the happiest girl on this planet, at least these two months. I want to spend time with you everyday. We need it."
Sara nods through her tears. Now her eyes are glued with mine.
"Work can wait and these impediments can go away at least for a bit. I want to spend Christmas with you alone, not with my family, not with yours…I want us together with each other because there's a lot…there's a lot that needs to be taken care of when it comes to us and I want to take care of it."
"Yes." Her hands clutch my towel, holding me in close contact to her body. "Please do that, please."
"Consider it already done. You deserve happiness, you deserve it and you will have it, I promise you."
And it happens; we live the happiest days of our lives as soon as I take a break from work at the end of November. I learn so much about her and she learns so much about me, realizing that there is a lot we have missed. She has been taking the self education route in her major. I didn't know she loved it that much. She explains things to me that amaze me; things I don't understand but never thought she would get them. This woman that I once explained her major for her is now studying on her own for the satisfaction it brings her.
"When I was seven, I walked in on my parents doing it." And her childhood stories are utterly wonderful and funny to hear. I listen to one after another and almost cry out of joy as we sit together in our room. "I didn't know what the heck they were doing. I thought they were exercising together, that's what they told me."
"Oh my god." I chew on my banana and laugh.
"So I told them I want to exercise with them. I was so jealous they were…exercising without me, like I was furiously jealous."
"Sara, you're sick." I hold my banana to her mouth and she takes a bite.
"I know. I kept wanting to exercise with them till I knew what sex was and it clicked in my head what they were doing…I actually puked for three days straight because I felt so ashamed and disgusted with myself…I also thought it hurt and was so scared."
"You're so adorable." I kiss her cheek quickly and squeeze her naked arm. "Did it hurt? Your first time?"
"Not as much as I thought but yes…I think I hurt Emy so much, she cried."
"Seriously?" I open my mouth in surprise, laughter dancing in my lungs.
"Yup. She said it's just emotions but I know it's not. I sucked at sex."
"You're so good now." I wink.
Sara laughs in an ebullient manner, slowly pushing her body on top of mine. She holds my head so I wouldn't fall down as she straddles me. "But the last time I did you I was drunk and did it very badly," she whispers huskily, fueling my fire.
"But you're good, still good. I remember how you were last year." Our hands brush each other's skin as my girlfriend begins to sway her body slowly on my hips. I moan to let her know of the feeling she's giving me.
"I think I want to try," she suggests, pushing her face closer to mine—breath to breath; heat among heat.
"You think so?"
"I want to," she confirms.
Sara takes off her light green tank top within few seconds of making up her mind. Her breasts are almost pink in color, full and heavy; her nipples hard, staring at me with excitement to be touched and bitten the way she loves it. She stands up above my face and rids herself off her pajama shorts and black underwear. Her scent is rather heavy and ardent; it amazes me. Her cunt throbbing with heat and need, Sara strokes its folds gently in front of my eyes. Confidence is a sheer cloak she wears as she stands there giving me a show I could never dream of watching. Her clit is small, swollen, and inviting. My mouth waters for the tiny bud. Her juices are trailing all over her hand as she plays with her labia, giggling each time our eyes meet.
"Are you wet?" she asks.
My mouth is inches away from her drenched cunt, ready to drink all her juices in. "I'm always wet."
"Can I see?"
I pull my pants and briefs down my ankles and she pulls them out of my legs, throwing them in the right corner of the room. I spread my legs for her.
She sits down between my legs and stares at what I'm offering. My clit is pulsating and I'm sure she can see it because I can feel it better than I can feel my heart. I remove my shirt and sports bra, getting as naked as her.
"I want to touch you," she whispers.
"What about you?"
"No." She pauses for a quick moment before giggling like a little child of three. "I want to touch you first. I want to try but…"
"Yes, baby?" I take a hold of her shaking hand, making her stop biting her nails.
"I want you to direct me because I'm not sure I have the rhythm."
"You do, babe." I kiss her hand and pull her towards me. "But if you're not ready, just say it."
"I am ready," her hesitant voice says.
I take a hold of her left breast as she tops me. I squeeze and knead for awhile as we start to kiss. I share plenty of kisses with her each day. Kisses that show me her affection and those which show her feverish love; kisses of good mornings and good nights and those that she plants on my lips to thank me for my presence; there are those ones when she's heated and those ones when she's sad. These kisses we share now hold something stronger and bigger and I don't know how to communicate it with my thoughts. Her moans are calling for me, eyes desiring me as we part, and lust takes over our thoughts.
She descends down my body with her ardent mouth, adding more kisses to my flushed skin. Her hands are shaking inside the grip I have put on them. Her eyes are never leaving mine. She showers my breasts with wet, hot kisses and takes my nipples in her mouth, gently giving each the attention it can endure.
She loves me, she gives me, she attacks me with her lips and tongue. She shows no fear once she dives in between my thighs, inhaling my heat and lapping at my juices. She forms sounds that make me shiver and blush, sounds I've missed and needed. She mouths things I cannot hear but I know they are promises of adoration and love.
She takes my clit in her mouth and sucks…she sucks for hours and days or that's what it seems to my drumming head. I can no longer look at her coppery eyes so I close mine and get lost in the moment. Hands still holding hers, I squeeze and she moans. She moans more than once, sounds of delight and seduction. She moves her head or that's how I feel before my brain loses it and my senses give up. I feel electrified, as if my body's on pins and needles as I begin to scream when the pressure of the release captures me. She is a master in teasing and she knows when to let it happen, and she never lets it happen.
She pushes her digits in me and fucks for minutes and then pushes her tongue to taste what I deliver; she does things she and I never thought she could after such a long time, but I know that once she's in it she can never back out; it's that instinct.
Her hands let go of mine. She hits my thighs, making me jump and rock my body against her face. She slaps and slaps as I move back and forth making the wave she's creating come closer to swipe away all the storms inside me.
I scream…I scream loudly enough that I don't get a sense of what's around me, of the hair I'm pulling, or the back I'm clawing. I shake and push and come undone, unable to see or hear anything but the loud thumps of my heart and the sweet murmurs of lamentation that keep getting closer each second.
"I love you, I love you," she cries in my ears. "I'm happy, I love you." She kisses my lips, my juices and her tears both in my mouth.
It becomes a ritual, our own song, our routine—something we both cannot get sick and tired of because we've been deprived of it since our eyes fell on each other. It has always been sex but now it's something more, something bigger and much better. The intensity of her emotions and the misery that she tries to hide, though anguishes my heart, it adds up some type of chemical to the equation of our entanglement. It adds up some sort of intimacy as we make love each day.
In the mornings we wake up and have breakfast. We feed Cyndi and play with her. We talk to our mothers separately or together. Sara talks to her sister in our room while I clean the house or try to, knowing she will do it again after me. We talk to Emy at times. We try to cook together each day. We've been teaching ourselves how to cook together, and it's fun because it always ends up in sex…something about food arouses Sara, I believe.
At nights I watch a film with Sara and Cyndi sits on her lap. We make out each few minutes till our need clogs our brains, sending us to the room ready to touch each other and get lost in our fiery need.
Sometimes we have quick sex and sometimes we try to be slow and passionate. At other times we try to make it fun and add toys. It's all the same, it's all emotionally intense because Sara's feelings are strong and her tears are usually present after it. It's fear or guilt or regret…I'm not sure what it is, it's sadness and grief that's all I can see. But I can see that there is genuine happiness inside this grief and without it we wouldn't be gratified and happy.
"Merry Christmas," I scream with loud, obnoxious laughter on Christmas Eve, holding the smallest double-sided dildo I've seen. One side is green and the other is red.
"Fuck, what is this?" Sara grabs it, shaking it and inspecting. She joins me in laughter when I let my naked body fall on hers, feeling the warmth she's radiating onto my skin.
"It's the Christmas toy." I wink, making her giggle. "Your real presents will be given to you tomorrow, though." I wink again, wiggling my brow at her.
"Fuck you."
"Oh yes, you're definitely going to fuck me while I fuck you."
"Is Cyndi asleep?"
"I'm telling you we're going to use a double-sided dildo and you're asking about that motherfucker?" I sit up, pretending to be offended.
"I wanna make sure she won't interrupt. Come 'ere." Sara pulls me on top of her again, kissing my face and neglecting my lips. "This is going to be a bit tough. I've been having back pain lately, be gentle."
"I know." I spread her legs to get between them. "I got the smallest one so I can…so we can…"
"So we can?"
I've never been shy to express my needs but when she has a look of anticipation that can make a wall crack from embarrassment, I can't let my words out. I love this look, I love remembering she's older and she can make me feel so small, like a feather.
"So we can, like, scissor…like, I want to touch your…cunt."
She hums…or moans. I'm not quite sure but it's sexy. It's so sexy I begin to thrust into her, meeting her center.
"Uh ohh…" She kisses my jaw sensually. "Looks like someone is so ready."
"Yes."
"Are you sure that toy won't get lost in me? I'm kinda wide."
"No you're not, I've been there yesterday."
"Shut up." She slaps my arm bashfully. "Seriously, though…you have to be gentle."
"I will." I sit up, ready to push the toy in me. "We'll go to physiotherapy like we agreed?"
"Yes." She uses her elbow to watch me push the green part in me. It goes in quickly and smoothly, leaving the bent red part aiming at her. "Therapy too, Teetee?"
"Of course." I don't want to talk about therapists and doctors at this moment. I want to feel her body collided with mine.
It starts slow like all our rituals. I start pushing carefully but easily because we both have taken toys much bigger than this one. I try to meet with her where I want but our parts don't touch as I wish. It frustrates me, making me sweat heavily as I don't succeed in bringing any of us the pleasure I've been desiring to provide.
"Come here," she whispers. "Sleep on top of me, join your body with mine, stop looking at the toy." I fall into her arms and she holds me down on top of her chest. "Move your butt now, only your butt." I follow her orders; my hips begin to rock on top of her. "Yes…just like that, are you feeling it?"
I moan as the pleasure begins to find a place in my body. I feel her legs wrap around my ass, pushing me down more and giving the space I want for our cunts to touch.
And then it happens, I feel her labia brushing onto mine and I feel her clit, too. I quicken the pace, hearing her voice getting louder.
I sure do hope we're not making our neighbors angry. I sure do hope we don't piss them off each night and especially not on this holy night. Sara's screams are loud, so loud and so beautiful and resonant. We laugh together each time our pussies touch. We scream together, too.
"Remove it," Sara pants in the middle of our sweaty motions. "Remove the stupid dildo and just fuck me with your pussy."
"Sara…fuck."
"Remove it." She pushes me out of her. With a hungry need she pulls the phallus out of me.
"Fuck, I love you," I murmur as I touch her body again.
"I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come."
"Wait for it…I'm close."
I can feel her juices engulfing mine and mine mixing with hers. I can feel her small and delicate folds kissing mine and feel my clit meeting hers. With each thrust she gives me a scream and I give her a kiss in return. She comes seconds before me and I follow her in the feeling, closing my eyes as my body shakes.
We decide this was not the best sex we've had but it was definitely something we both wanted and glad we have finally tried and actually had received an outcome of. The Christmas dildo is a failure but it will always remind us of this Christmas and how we spent it alone, with a peace of mind and purified souls.
"Guess what, you guys?" Emy shouts through the webcam.
"What?" Sara and I ask in unison as my girlfriend sits between my legs and lays her head on my chest.
Emy holds up her right ring finger, showing off a large diamond that can honestly blind my vision.
"Wow," Sara says. "Umm…congrats, Em."
"Thank you," our friend says cheerily.
"Congratulation, Emy."
"Thanks, love."
"How did it happen?" Sara asks.
"Well…" Emy looks behind her to make sure, I assume, Amber is not around. "Bee wants to start a family with me."
"Interesting," I mumble.
"Yup." Emy's face is flushed. "I know…I know I said that I don't want it now but I love her. I really do and I think…I want that, too."
"I'm happy for you, Emy," Sara says. I hold the heating pad closer to her hip as she adjusts her body. She's been having issues with her back lately. The doctor gave her a couple of exercises that we're trying to work with, but they don't give us any improvement.
"Thank you, Sare." Emy sighs. "I proposed."
"You did?" I gasp.
"Yes…I mean if we're starting a family…I think, you know, we gotta tie it down."
"True." I nod slowly.
I wonder if Sara's jealous. I wonder if she wants it, too. We talked about children but never marriage. She never mentioned it and I never did, too.
"So when are you guys going to start the process?" Sara asks.
"Very soon actually. We found a donor and hopefully this month. We don't want a big wedding, but you guys will come when it happens, right?"
"Oh, yes, definitely, honey," Sara says sweetly.
"You or her?" I ask.
"Of course her. You know I can't carry a baby."
"Wow. You're going to be a mum," Sara states. "How does it feel?"
"Very overwhelming." Emy pauses and we do, too. What if Sara's jealous and wants to be a mother, too? She always stated she wants to carry, but I want to do that, too. I can let her carry and then I will after her. But can I really raise two children? "I mean, I'm only twenty-five…but, I think I can handle it. So, what about you? What's up? Your back again?" Nice move to change the subject, well-played, Emy.
"Mhm." Sara sighs, placing my hand on her abdomen. "I'm afraid I'll have to resort to cortisone again."
"Don't say that…" I exclaim.
"It's true," Sara says. "I can barely go to the bathroom alone." Emy purses her lips, not knowing what to say. I know Sara's upset because we haven't been able to have sex this past week. She can barely walk and the exercises are doing close to nothing. "You had to come help me get off the toilet today. I'm…I'm upset."
"She's seen it all, Sara," Emy says softly.
"Tell her," I say, giving Sara's tummy a pat.
"What caused it to act up all of a sudden? A sex position went wrong or something?"
Sara falls silent and I do, too. Emy gasps, finding out the reason due to our loud silence. It was a wrong idea to try the Christmas dildo and scissoring. I'm dumb…always coming up with dumb ideas, always hurting her.
"Fuck, you guys are wild."
"Well, not anymore," Sara says.
...
January 2009
Sara's been bitter lately. I know such a thing can affect one's mood greatly, but she's been extra bitter than the normal Sara I know. What makes it worst is finding out that Sara needs cortisone shots to restrict a growing inflammation.
Therapy makes us calm down and makes her pour her emotions out, but at home we're always at a silent war no matter how hard I try to make her feel better. The happiness we both started this vacation with suddenly stops as it's about to end, and I don't want to leave Sara with the same mood I found her with when I took time off work.
"I don't feel pretty, I feel fat," Sara cries to Dr. Philips. "Whenever I go through this, I gain weight, I feel ugly…I feel old and decaying."
"Does Tegan make you feel this way?"
I look at Sara, waiting for her answer. Maybe I do without feeling it. I do lots of terrible things to her without knowing, that's what I realized.
"No, never." Sara wipes her tears.
"Tegan, don't look at her." I look at our therapist. "I don't want her answers to be forced and influenced by a look you give her even if you don't intend to."
"What makes you feel this way, Sara? If it's not Tegan…what makes you feel this way?"
"I am fat, can't you fucking see it?" Sara shouts rudely. "Can't you see my breasts? My thighs? My stomach?"
"I honestly cannot," Dr. Phillips says. "Tegan has said that your breasts are slightly bigger now and she's very happy about that, your thighs are full and that's sexy to her, your stomach barely has any fat in it yet you decide to see it. That's what your girlfriend said in the last session."
"Maybe she's lying to make me feel better." I shake my head, about to roll my eyes when I get a look from the doctor that makes me take a deep breath. I have to be patient with Sara, I have to. After all, that's all me. If it wasn't for that time I made her life a living hell with my words and actions, we wouldn't be here.
"Why would she lie to you? What's her purpose?"
"She loves me. Because she loves me." Sara chokes on her sobs. I'm ready to take her in and hold her but Dr. Phillips stops me. My heart is crying for her, I can't bear to see her in this state. I can never do that. I begin to cry.
"What's bad about her loving you? Don't you love her, too?"
"I do. I fucking love her so much it hurt me."
"Why does it hurt you?" I try my best to avoid Sara's eyes as the doctor suggested, but I can't. I look at the red pupils and hazel irises as they burn through me.
"I feel like I'm not enough…I feel like I…I don't know. I feel like I'm always whining and hurt and she works hard while I don't do anything…"
And we get back to point zero. We get back to the same stage and the same spot. Living with Sara is hard but I won't stop trying. I have no idea what she's going through, that's what I know. I don't know about the physical pain and I definitely can't realize nor understand the mental pain. All I can do is be patient, wait, love, and support.
The night before I go back to work, Sara asks me to touch her. I do that. I place her carefully between arms in the living room and push my hands in her shorts. She hugs my stomach while I finger her and rub her. When she comes, I make her suck my two fingers then I suck them after her.
"Let me touch you," she says.
"No."
"Why not?"
"I'm not feeling good. My stomach hurts."
"Cramps?" Sara asks.
"No. Just my stomach…it hurts. I ate too much, I think."
"Well, it was delicious." We ordered Chinese food today. We both ate more than we usually did.
"It was."
"I'm getting the night fever." She faces that each day, I'm thinking it's a reaction from her medicines. Her body tenses up; she sweats and becomes insanely pale each night before falling asleep. I hate this part the most because I know she's hurt. Sometimes I feel like I'm losing her and it keeps me up all night thinking of ways to stop what's happening in her body. It's such a small body and it's bearing too much at the moment.
"Let's go to bed." I put her down on the sofa and stand up. I put both arms underneath her body and pick her up bridal style.
"Oh, shit." She giggles. "I'm already broken, don't break me more."
"You're not as heavy as you think you are."
"Because you go to the gym and have a strong body."
"So I can carry you as if you're my princess."
I place her on our mattress and Cyndi, who was lying there, runs up to her and hides in her arms. "Oh, hi there, Cyndi Lauper? Your momma thinks I'm a princess."
"You are." I come from behind, cuddling with Sara and hugging her closely as she cuddles with the cat.
"I would rather be a prince…a king." Sara giggles. I touch her forehead, noticing the heat has started spreading through her body.
"Alright, you're my king." I kiss her earlobe. "Even though you're pretty feminine to be a king or a prince."
"Well…you, too." Sara pinches my arm, making me squeal. "Emy said she needs to chat. Open Skype, let's hear the rant now."
I groan. I don't want Emy's rants. Not now. I want serenity now.
"I know." Sara laughs. "She's our friend; we have to listen to her."
I extend an arm over Sara's to reach the laptop. I can barely touch the pad and scroll down because I'm too far. "Sare, babe, you're closer."
"Cyndi is sitting on my hands."
"Tell that motherfucker to move. I can't reach it."
"That motherfucker doesn't understand you, and you're lucky she doesn't."
Eventually, Sara opens Skype and we call Emy, who appears with tired eyes deprived of sleep. Before we get to talk to her, she asks us about ourselves, about our time together, about Sara's situation. The longer she speaks, the hotter Sara's body gets. I can feel the sweat increasing. I can feel her shivering under the covers and inside my grip.
"Oh that's normal. It happens each day," Sara tells our friend.
"But you can walk and move now, right?"
"Oh, yes. Very easily. You know, cortisone always does it for me. I hope I lose the weight I gained again. It just makes me so bloated. Today Tegan and I took a walk downtown. It was nice."
"Yeah, we bought a couple of stuff, we got clothes," I add.
"And new bras. I needed new bras because my breasts are bigger now."
"I got her a Spongebob bra. Double Ds."
"Which is very big...I'm not there yet," Sara says. "And so fucking weird, but I accepted the gift, even though I won't ever wear it," she adds. We try to cheer up Emy, whose mood is clearly not its best. Maybe she wanted to listen to us speak more than herself speak. Sometimes one needs that.
"Gosh, I miss you guys. Still the same as you've been."
"No. I'm more professional now," I say. "I bought ties. I'm gonna start wearing ties."
"She says that each weakened," Sara mumbles lazily.
"I try, okay?" I kiss Sara's temple and she snuggles closely to me.
"You seem sleepy," Emy comments.
"She is," I say. "How are you, though? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine…I just needed to talk, a change of atmosphere."
"Is everything alright?" Sara asks. She yawns. I know she will fall asleep anytime now.
"Everything's good. Don't worry. I'm just upset over Amber."
"What's up?" I ask. "What did she do?"
"Oh, nothing. She's feeling down because she's not pregnant."
"Oh," I say.
"I told her we'll try again next month but I guess…" Emy chuckles. "I don't know, I don't know how she feels. I guess she expected it would happen immediately."
"First times don't always work," I say. "You ended up on the couch, huh?" Emy nods with a nice, genuine smile.
"She's asleep," Emy whispers.
"Who?" I look down at my girlfriend. Her eyes are closed, breaths calm and even. I kiss her temple again. "Yeah, she's tired."
"How is she?" Emy's tone has gotten much lower now.
"Good." I shake my head, shaking the tears that are eager to rush down my lids. "I don't know. Sometimes she's happy. Sometimes she's anxious. I don't know. I feel like…like I'm losing her."
"That's Sara," Emy remarks. "That's how she's always been. She's distant. It's normal, Tegan. That's just her."
I expected it to be bad getting back to work and leaving Sara at home, especially that she has quit her job at the bar just recently. She hated it; she couldn't do it any longer. But I get home each day and find a happy Sara. Maybe the vacation was good after all; maybe it restored what we've had before.
"I've been reading so much," Sara says. "I took the bike today and went to the library. I looked up some universities here, I talked to mum, I think I want to do my MA in Clinical Psychology.
"Sara," I drop my spoon as I gape at her, "that's fucking amazing. Seriously?"
"Yes…I talked to Sonia about it. She made it seem so awesome. She said if I do it, she'll get me all these books and stuff and will help me. I think I want to. I know I love music but I do find myself in Psychology…despite my past negligence."
"That's actually perfect because I was going to suggest something like that soon. I was waiting for the right time."
I know it's expensive and I hate the fact she wants to let her parents pay for it, but I cannot afford it at all, especially that she can't get a scholarship because her bachelor's grades are not the best to get her some good scholarships in this particular field. She wants to take most of her classes online and the rest in a university nearby.
"Tomorrow I'll go do some more research. I might not cook; will you bring takeouts on your way home?"
When she's excited and happy, I can't tell her 'no.' I'm busy tomorrow, but I can't say 'no' to her when she's in this state of jubilation. I wait for such moments, I hunt them, so I can't stop them when they come.
We have sex at night. Very quick, but intimate and playful at the same time. When Sara's happy, the stars are happy, the sky is happy, the moon is happy, every creature is happy—I can feel it in the air.
"Takeouts okay? I'll keep reminding you because you forget. Nothing with spices, I'm having a nervous stomach lately," she says before I leave in the morning.
"Alright," I say laughing while putting my jacket on. "Calm down. Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself with all those nerves." I kiss her sweet cherry lips before leaving for work.
The day starts with the most boring meeting I've ever witnessed with an insurance company my dad worked with. Since my dad already worked with these people, I have to follow the legacy and work with them even though I'm not too keen about it.
Thank God for Joe who listens and takes notes while I pretend to pay attention. I text Sara each five minutes telling her how bored I am but she doesn't respond. She is probably living in her bubble right now looking at books and brochures.
I leave the meeting eventually and tell Joe to wrap it up. I go to the bathroom then wander around the offices to see how everyone's work is going. While I wasn't around, Joe took care of these things. I tried to get in contact with him whenever Sara was in the bathroom or asleep, but I never did open my work's phone while around her.
"I told them to email me a quotation and put you in the CC. That woman doesn't shut up," Joe says as soon as he enters my office.
"I got a headache. Both of them won't shut up."
"Want me to find you other companies? You know, let us take quotations and see."
"I would love to but Mr. Quin insists we go with them."
"Well," Joe says with a surrendered sigh, "he knows better."
"Hey, Joe, any good pizza place nearby other than the boring three down the street? My girlfriend isn't cooking today and I don't know what to get for dinner."
"Well you can try…" My phone starts buzzing, interrupting him.
"Oh, that's Sara. Shut up, Joe." I pick up immediately. "Hi, babe."
"Hello?" A strange voice of a man greets me. Rob?
"Who is it?" I ask. "Rob?"
"Tegan? That's you, Miss?"
"Yes?"
"There has been an accident."
"What?" I stand up, my heartbeats accelerate.
"A woman was run over by a car. She was on her bike. I called 911 and they're on their way. I tried to get a number from her; she kept mumbling your name."
"Oh my god, oh my god," No…no…no…oh my god. Oh my god.
I go mad. I scream like a maniac and cry hysterically. "Is she okay? Is she okay? Oh my god? Where is she?" I try to put my jacket on but I'm shaking. Joe's face is red, trying to calm me down, to get what's happening. A couple of employees get inside to watch the scene that I can't stop, the unprofessional act I show.
"She's passed out…she…" I hear sirens and noises. I'm about to faint so I hold Joe's shoulder for support. "We're taking her to the hospital, ma'am. Greenfield's Hospital."
"Joe take me there, take me to her...take me to Sara, take me to Sara," I cry loudly, tugging at his jacket.