Chapter 3: Anger

Saturday afternoon, Amy began cooking and cleaning her apartment. While she cooked, Amy made a few notes on the back of her recipe about tonight's plans. She wanted her plans well thought out and organized before Keith and Stacy showed up, and she always planned better when she wrote things down.

Amy's civilian contractor's pay was high enough that she could afford the nicer things in life, but instead of owning her own house in the area, she opted for a plush apartment in downtown Houston. The drive was longer, but the building had many amenities.

Her apartment building had a laundry service, two pools with accompanying hot tubs—one of which was indoors, a parking garage, a twenty-four hour doorman, a gym, and several other nice perks. She'd lived in the building for almost three years, so she knew many of her neighbors fairly well too. Though, she suspected many of her neighbors probably thought she was some rich guy's mistress. She told them she was a 'personal assistant', but even she didn't think a personal assistant to a billionaire could afford the rent in this place.

Promptly at 6:30pm, her doorman buzzed Amy and she confirmed that she was expecting two guests: a Dr. Meridian and Ms. Belkin. A few minutes later, she opened the door for them and ushered them inside.

"Where's your boyfriend?" Stacy inquired after being greeted.

Amy did her best acting and broke into sobs.

She felt Keith's arms encircle her in comfort and her pussy dampened. She nearly moaned in the comfortable pleasure of the embrace, but managed to keep up her wounded façade. When he asked, "Hey! What's the matter?" Amy only glanced at Stacy for a second before crying some more.

Amy was amazed to see that Stacy was simply looking at Keith with loving pride on her face. Amy was disgusted at this, 'Shit! If I saw my man hugging another woman, I'd be soo pissed!'

Amy sobbed, "I'm sorry. He ... he called about an hour ago ... he broke up with me!" Of course, Amy had no boyfriend, but after tonight, neither would Stacy if Amy's plans worked out.

Keith hugged her comfortingly and offered, "We should do this another time then."

"No! No! I ... I don't want to be alone tonight."

Stacy nodded in agreement.

'Stupid bitch.' Amy thought wickedly.

Amy collected herself and showed them into the dining room. She poured them each a glass of wine and asked them to be seated.

"Dinner is just a few minutes from being done," Amy said.

"Would you like any help?" Stacy asked.

"No thanks. Just enjoy yourself." 'While you still can, ' she finished silently.

Less than five minutes later, she served fresh steamed asparagus, baked red potatoes, and roasted lamb with applesauce. The main course was a recipe she'd learned from an old girlfriend when she'd been in the Air Force. Traditionally, lamb was served with mint jelly, but applesauce not only tasted better, but it brought out the flavor in the lamb better too.

For a moment, Amy's thought's drifted to Callie, her old friend who had taught her the recipe.

Callie and Amy had met during flight school and they'd ended up as roommates. At first, as the only two women in their flight school, they'd been at each other's throats in competition. Then after a few weeks where neither of them seemed to be making any progress versus the men, they made a pact to work together. It had been Callie's idea, and it worked beautifully. The two women were so similar in some ways, but their talents complimented each other almost too well.

Amy was a natural pilot, flying was like walking to her. But the technical learning, the math required for navigational training, and all the rote memorization required for 'classroom learning' was hard for her. On the other hand, Callie was a genius in the classroom and picked up on all the technical details like they were as plain as day. But her piloting skills were almost non-existent.

By training each other, the two women learned to accept each other and eventually became friends. When flight school ended, Amy was at the top of their class and Callie was just two spots behind. Their instructor recommended Amy for combat training with Callie as her co-pilot, her navigator. The two women leapt at the opportunity.

After training, they were assigned together to combat operations in Bosnia. They flew several missions as a crack team. But in 1995, their plane was damaged by a SAM—surface to air missile—and they barely managed to hold the jet together and return to base.

The missile had actually not hit them, but exploded only a few hundred feet behind them when it struck a countermeasure. But the shrapnel from the Serbian missile had crippled their aircraft.

After being checked by doctors and debriefed by superiors, Callie and Amy had returned to their apartment off-bass in Germany. They'd been given two weeks of furlough to recover and recuperate.

The minute the door closed behind them, Callie collapsed in teary sobs. Amy had hugged her, comforting her best friend. She knew how close to death they'd really come, and as Callie's seat was behind hers on the aircraft, she'd come even closer.

But Callie stopped crying suddenly and pressed her lips to Amy's. For several seconds, they both lost themselves in the soft touch of each other's lips. But finally, Amy broke away.

"What was that!?"

Callie whimpered, "I'm not afraid to die! But I am afraid to die without telling you how I feel."

"How do you feel?"

Callie looked Amy straight in the eye and said, "I love you."

Amy was shocked. She loved Callie as well, but she knew the platonic love of friendship wasn't the love Callie was confessing. Amy had never been attracted to women sexually, though she did find some women sexy—and Callie was definitely one of those few. But Callie was her friend, and she'd never even thought of acting on her curious attraction.

"You ... you love me!?" Amy asked incredulously.

"I should have told you years ago. I've been in love with you since the day I met you. No woman has ever infuriated me the way you did then. I ... I know you don't see me that way ... but I ... I just can't go another day without you knowing the truth," and then Callie broke into tears.

Amy couldn't bear seeing the beautiful girl in tears, so she just held her for a long while, comforting her while she cried away the day's emotions. After several minutes, Callie looked up into Amy's face.

In that moment, Amy saw it—the pure unconditional love flowing from Callie's eyes, her beautiful brown eyes. In twenty years of life, no one had ever loved Amy like that. Sure, she's had a few boyfriends, one or two she'd even thought had actually loved her, but never unconditionally. Never without her returning their affection or at least performing sexually. Maybe, for a few moments of consciousness after her birth and while she was in the womb her mother had loved her that way, but who really knows.

But Callie loved her, even if Amy felt nothing in return. For several moments, Amy simply considered her friend in a new light. She'd never really considered lesbianism. Sure, she'd admitted to herself that some women held a certain curious fascination for her—you could call it attraction—and Callie was one of those few. But could Amy ever really love Callie in return?

Amy had always figured she was 'normal'—straight. She found young athletic men sexy and she'd always enjoyed sex with men—for the most part. Would she even enjoy sex with a woman? She supposed she would probably enjoy being on the receiving end of oral and penetrating sex with fingers or some sort of toys ... but could she even stomach going down on another woman?

Looking into Callie's eyes, she realized this wasn't just 'another woman'—it was Callie, her best friend. Amy decided her curiosity and loneliness were stronger than her fear and indecision. She pressed her lips to Callie's and tentatively opened her mouth—an invitation for more. Less than a second later, Amy felt the young woman's tongue enter her mouth.

Amy stifled her fear and tried to enjoy her first open-mouth kiss with another woman. When she actually did lower her guard, she started to enjoy it. The kiss was probably the softest and most sensual kiss she'd ever experienced. Callie's lips and tongue were so soft, and her skin of her face was also so baby-smooth. Even with boyfriends who had just shaved, they never could really remove all the stubble. Compared to the softest and most loving kisses she'd shared with boyfriends in the past, this kiss made those seem like kissing gravel, both in the sensual and emotional departments.

Before she registered the sensations, Amy moaned unconsciously in pleasure. Only then did she realize that Callie's hand was cupping her breast and gently teasing her nipple through her shirt and bra. When she realized this, she gasped and broke their kiss.