I suppose I did sound a little incoherent last night. Okay, very incoherent. But I just had quite a shock and I don't have any idea what is going to happen, or even what I want to happen.
You have always been a wonderful sister. You were the one that stood by me after my marriage to Adam collapsed. When I finally realized that I was gay you helped me break the news to the family. Now I really need to unload and perhaps if I write this all down I might come across as a little more intelligent than I did last night on the phone.
You know that I've been seeing Julia off and on for months now. I know that she's a few years older than I am but that's never been a problem. She's an amazing woman, a gifted songwriter, singer and guitarist. One problem, of course, in dating a musician is that she's on the road so much, a gig in this town and another one in the next tomorrow night. We try to keep in touch as much as possible but sometimes it's rough.
Since we haven't made anything formal yet, we both are free to date other women. That's fine. It doesn't bother me when I call her and she's all bubbly in a way that tells me some groupie got lucky last night. In fact, I find it exciting that I'm with someone in such demand. But for both of us it's always one-nighters and move on and then back to each other. We've even discussed buying a house and moving in together. Then it will be, would be, might be, permanent. Monogamous. Just us. But now...
It was Friday night. Julia was touring way up the coast, a thousand miles from here. Rather than sit around my apartment I went over to Diane Gilmont's party. You met Diane when you visited a few months ago. She's straight but enjoys filling her place with all sorts of people. "The more the merrier," she says and then usually ads something about the more varied the better too. Her place is down at the beach and it's high summer so the dress is pretty informal.
I was sipping a nice Scotch, poured from a bottle that I brought myself, and fending off the attentions of a couple of guys who had already been drinking too much of whatever they have been into. I was flattered but sometimes I wonder if I should be wearing a sign around my neck that says "Lesbian". It might avoid scenes. I like guys; I enjoy talking to them and even hanging out with my male friends. I just don't want to sleep with them.
Then there she was. My God Sally. Six feet of tanned pony-tailed blonde athlete. A pair of tight black shorts and a yellow top baring a mid-riff that was flat and firm. And legs. Oh my GOD, what legs. Long and full, muscular but as shapely as any I've ever seen. Bare footed, she was leaning in a doorway with one foot planted firmly on the floor. The other leg was bent at the knee and the curled toes of that foot brushed the rug.
She certainly made my toes curl with the smile she gave me. Of course she was surrounded by every other guy at the party and who could blame them? I suspect that I was staring just as much as any male was. All I could hope was that maybe my tongue wasn't hanging out. Or if it was I hoped that it was hanging out a lot further than anyone else's!
I tried to calm myself down. After all, I hadn't come here looking. Diane tends to invite me as the token lesbian after all. Usually the other women here are as straight as she is. Of course some of them aren't as straight as they think. Do you remember that asshole John Archibald who ranted and raved about "dykes being the ruin of all that is good and pure."? True to his pious bullshit his wife caught him dicking some visiting redhead one night. Of course I didn't find that out until after she had cornered me in a nearby bedroom and showed me that for the spouse of such a gay hater she could lick pussy with the best I've ever seen.
Regardless of memories like that and a series of fantasies that rushed through my mind as I stared at the gorgeous blonde I contented myself with returning her smile. No winks, no crooked fingers, no attempt to make a pass either subtle or overt. I was sure the young woman had seen them all. Hell, it looked like she was the subject of a half-dozen attempts even as I turned away and headed for the back porch. All the smoke was clogging my lungs. I did make a stop in the kitchen to freshen the drink I had absently gulped down when I had first seen what I knew would be the object of more than one late night dream.
I closed the French doors behind me and stood outside alone. The view from Diane's place is gorgeous. Back behind the house I could see the lights of the city twinkling and the darkness of the mountains rising beyond those lights. I relaxed and let my mind just float wherever it wanted to go, the soft crashing of the waves down on the beach below providing a soothing rhythm. I was contented enough to groan when I heard the door behind me open.
"Goodness," came a soft voice. "Am I disturbing you?"
I turned around. It was her. She had closed the door behind her and was leaning back against it. The look on her face was calm but I thought I could see a bit of sparkle in her eyes. Maybe that's why I said just what I was thinking rather than rephrase it into some less obvious words.
"You disturbed me the moment I saw you."
I could have bit my tongue. "Nice going Caroline. Like being subtle much?" But then I saw the smile spread across her face and I realized that I may have hit a home run on a pitch three feet outside the strike zone.
"I thought you weren't interested," she said. "I had thought 'Great, the only other lesbian at this party and she just smiled and walked away'."
My mouth must have hung open because she laughed. "Couldn't you tell I was looking for someone to rescue me? I love Diane to death but she does insist on attempting to surround me with nice looking guys in the hopes that one of them will somehow spark my interest."
I had to laugh along with her. "She does the same thing to me. Not that she's being judgmental, I think, she just can't seem to wrap her mind around the fact that guys simply don't interest me, not the way she hopes anyway."
With that we settled down and got to know each other a bit. I found out her name is Lindsey. She's twenty three, just about eight years younger than me, just about the same span between Julia and me. I figured she was a lifeguard or maybe a beach volleyball player or something like that. Turned out she's a physics major at the University here. That dynamite body does come from sports though. She runs track and wonder of wonders, like me she loves softball.
It was during a pretty animated discussion of that sport that I kissed her. Or she kissed me, I'm not sure which. All I can recall is that as we talked we had moved closer and closer together. Our fingers were brushing back and forth against each other. It could have been me who started it; when I first felt that firm thigh touch mine. I was mighty glad I had worn shorts myself when that happened.
Whoever kissed who didn't matter. Once it started we both put some enthusiasm into it. Her mouth tasted like a fresh apple and I was dying to find out what the rest of her tasted like when we finally came up for air.
"My place or yours?" I asked, trying to be cosmopolitan. Somehow this young beauty reduced me, if not to babbling incoherency, at least to a direct comments approach.
"What's wrong with right here?" she smiled and since I couldn't think of any reason why anything was wrong with "right here" I kissed her and we came into each other's arms. Those arms of hers were every bit as strong as the rest of her appeared to be. I loved the feel of them around me. This time our kisses started out slow, then built, growing from little gentle brushes of lips to full blown, all, out my-god-I-want-you-right-NOW kisses.
.... There is more of this story ...