Hot Tats Hollihan.

The name pops up on Gail's phone around 7.

Tit for Tat? Really?

Well, Holly, it was that or Officer Awesome Rack. Both seemed entirely appropriate. Don't you think?

Actually, I do think.

Gail had managed to talk herself down in the last hour or so since her appointment with Holly ended. She had almost convinced herself that the pain and excitement of getting needled had triggered a kind of sexual adrenaline that made her lusty. That, even if it had been someone else tattooing her, Gail would have been open to connecting in all the myriad of ways it seemed Holly and she had.

But even before Holly's text, Gail could still feel the weight of Holly's arm across her chest and Holly's long, steady fingers gently touching her irritated skin. Gail could still feel Holly's warm skin beneath her own fingers, textured with scar tissue and goosebumps. The ghost of contact was still solid and vividly detailed. Excruciatingly detailed. Tingly, damp, and deep kind of detailed.

Gail had always been a sexual person. For that reason, the intensity of such a physical experience with Holly did not surprise her. But it was more than the physicality of the situation that twirled into this perfect storm. It was the openness of the interactions between the two women - starting with Holly and transferring to Gail. Everything about Holly was genuine - from her eye contact to her volunteered vulnerability.

I was wondering if you want to get a drink tonight.

Gail actually felt lightheaded a the suggestion. She brought her hand to her forehead and just let herself feel the dizziness of excitement.

When the fourth of July finale in her guts settled to more subdued pyrotechnics (wet Roman candle?) Gail took in a breath and started typing.

Holly, I want to get a drink right now.

I meant with me, Gail.

Me too.

Oh . . .

Gail hopes Holly is smiling as she processes the very forthright comment.

Actually, Gail's imagination sees Holly's tan skin turn red hot as the blood rushes her cheeks, then her neck, and on down below her shirt. She wants Holly to feel butterflies become fireflies become pure fire. She wants this because this is what Holly has done to her. Holly has made Gail feel like Gail always wanted to make someone else feel.

Well, I have to finish this tattoo first, but I can meet you around 9?

Sure. Where?

Black Cat?

Purrfect.

Gail is early. A shot or two before the woman she is meeting, not as a friend, seemed a good idea. In Gail's opinion a little social lubrication was never a bad thing. Neither were donuts or Cheetos, though.

She couldn't lie to herself. There was no reason to lie. Gail had no allegiance to men. She just wanted unflappable love. Whether it was a man or woman to give and receive it mattered not. But, without a doubt, Gail didn't want to be left on a curbside as her "love" drove away heading off to see the person who stole him or her away. A relationship that ends that way lacks the dimension she knows her previous relationships never had, but she instinctively missed. Sure, the end of those pairings was sad, but if they had been what she needed, the end should have been devastation.

Is devastation really where she wanted to take this? No. Shots were where she wanted to take this.

Gail walks up and leans on the dark wood of the dimly lit bar and orders two tequila shots. Looking around, Gail sees why Holly suggested meeting here. It isn't crowded, but it's not empty either. It lacks the dinge and raucousness of a dive, but also the accoutrement to be upscale. It is unassuming and that feels comfortable.

Gail throws back the first shot of tequila to quell already dimming thoughts of the gloom and doom of devastation. Then she throws back the second shot to fuel the flames of excitement that rekindle when she looks at her watch.

This thing with Holly was something. Gail couldn't quite put her finger on it, but, truth be told, she definitely wanted to put her finger on it. Maybe her tongue too.

The sound of the door . . .

Holly breezes in like a greek goddess in Steven Segal action movie. She is all at once breathtaking and action figure-y. Gail hadn't noticed before, in motion, just how graceful Holly was. Gail knew Holly had dexterity and steadiness in her fingers. Oh, she definitely knew that. She had thought in pretty graphic detail about that finger-dexterity. But, in general, Holly had an obvious athleticism. Even if this was an overstatement and Holly just had coordination, in Gail's mind, Holly looked like a superhero's secret identity.

Gail has a second to be disappointed with her 12-year-old mind before Holly spots her and that beautifully askew smile draws the left corner of Holly's mouth up.

"Hey." The word sounds like a sigh of relief as Holly completes the single syllable just before she presses her mouth against Gail's, hands grabbing Gail's waist and sealing their bodies tight.

Gail's hands automatically find Holly's neck and hold tight while the softest lips in the entire fucking world melt her. Over the course of the kiss, their lips part, but only breath is exchanged - stolen and returned. It is so intimate and contrary to her previous first kisses (even though this was technically a second kiss).

The kiss has ended. Gail knows this because she can feel the space where Holly's parts used to be. It feels cold and empty and Gail keeps her eyes closed for just a minute to try to more easily recreate the warmth in her mind.

When Gail opens her eyes, Holly is smiling, again. It is a heartfelt smile conveying affection and, maybe, just a touch of curiosity.

"What were you saying?"

What do you mean?" Gail asks.

"It's . . . It's just your lips were moving. It looks like you were saying something but I didn't hear you."

"Ummm . . . 'Wow.' I think I was saying 'Wow.' And, if I wasn't, that is what I should have said because that is what I am feeling. But, trust me, I don't always say what I feel."

Holly's right eyebrow arches.

"I think there is more to be said there, but how about we get a drink or two and sit down." Holly gestures to a booth. It looks cozy and semi-private and Gail thinks her hand would go virtually unnoticed doing . . . whatever under the table.

Well, hopefully it wouldn't be unnoticed by Holly.