6: The Taste of Kisses

The thing about chaos,
is that while it disturbs us,
it too, forces our hearts to roar
in a way we secretly find magnificent.

Christopher Poindexter

The elevator remained broken, but this evening Em raced up the stairs enjoying the strain as she took every other step. It was another trying day spent in meetings and paperwork and she was eager to stretch. Bursting onto the seventh-floor landing, she slowed, shook her muscles loose, and prepared for the potential mess which descended on her neat and tidy apartment. Yet she couldn’t help smiling. As much as the disorder disturbed her, she enjoyed having her niece around. Such bright-eyed innocence, especially when asking probing questions, was invigorating in a whole new way.

As she approached her door she heard voices laughing, teasing and protesting. She’d called when she’d left the precinct house, not expecting Francine to pick up, and didn’t reach anyone. As a result, she’d power-walked home. It sounded like Becky, Francine and whoever they’d drug home had been here for some time.

She opened the door—unlocked again—and entered, stopping in her tracks. “Susanna?”

Another of her part-time girlfriends, Susanna Phelps, sat beside Amanda on the couch as Francine poured more wine. Becky was on the floor, her chin in her hands as she listened attentively.

Susanna raised her glass, toasting Em. “Howdy, girlfriend. Congratulations on the new job.” Em guessed they’d already consumed a fair amount of wine.

“Yeah, Lucy told us to turn on ... what was the local news station again?” Francine asked Amanda.

“New York One”, she answered patiently.

“Yeah, we turned on Channel One, and there you were.”

“So, does this come with a big promotion?” Susanna asked.

Em grunted, closing the door and sliding the deadbolt. “No, this is as likely to tank my career as help me.” She turned and studied Susanna, cocking her head to the side. “How did you end up here?”

Susanna giggled. “Becky and Francine stopped by. We got to talking and they invited me home.”

Em waved her hands in front of her, trying to piece this together. “Wait, they stopped by where?”

“My apartment. They asked about your ‘crew’, so Lucy asked a few of the girls over, and they asked me back. We had a lot to talk about,” she finished with a giggle.

“It was a blast. They were wonderful!” Becky announced, twisting around and flashing a youthful smile.

Em rolled her eyes as she placed her grocery bag with a couple cheaper bottles of wine on a side table, struggling out of her coat. “I’m sure they were.” Francine had already gone through several of her more expensive bottles. “And how did you end up there, when you didn’t know her from Eve?”

Amanda held her hand up. “That was my fault. After you left, these two cornered Lucy and grilled her over frozen waffles. I stopped by to see if they needed anything, and the discussion ended up on where you spent your time.”

Francine put the nearly empty bottle of wine in her hand down and advanced on the newer ones. “Becky asked where lesbians hang out in the city.”

“I wanted to see a lesbian bar, but apparently no one goes to them,” Becky said, informing Em of a fact she’d long known.

Em shrugged. “No, women aren’t like men, they don’t run to bars to spend money. Instead, it’s easier to get together in people’s homes.”

“Manhattan used to have ten lesbian bars several years ago, not a lot, but all but three closed down,” Amanda explained. “The rest are like the Cubbyhole, mostly tourist attractions for out-of-towners. Since people don’t get upset about women touching, we don’t need protected spaces to get together like gay men do, and we don’t spend like them either.”

Em scratched her head, hanging her coat on the coatrack. “So wait, cultural lesson aside, why are you cornering my friends in their homes?”

Francine liberated the wine bottle from the side table. “Becky wanted to learn more about the New York lesbian lifestyle, while we both wanted to meet your friends.”

Em shot the group a glare. “Just how much did you tell them?”

“Aside from a few details from high school, we don’t know much,” Francine shouted over her shoulder as she took the wine bottle to the kitchen.

“Then how much did they tell you?”

“Nothing embarrassing,” Amanda assured her from the couch, where she grinned at Em’s discomfort. “All your secrets are safe.”

Becky swiveled, facing Em and flashing her an imploring smile. “They said some interesting things, though. Do you mind if I ask another question?”

Em cocked her head as Francine handed her a glass and poured the last of the bottle into it. “Another one about my sex life?”

“Yeah,” Becky answered, giggling.

Sighing, Em shrugged, crossing to a side chair where she sat and prepared for her niece’s inquiry. “Sure, go ahead. You already discussed my deepest, darkest secrets. I’m not sure there’s much more to tell. I’m really not that interesting.”

“I don’t believe that for a minute,” Francine laughed.

“Me neither,” Amanda agreed. “You keep most of your details close to your chest, which explains why everyone’s so fascinated every time you reveal something.”

Ignoring the interruption, Becky continued, motioning towards the kitchen. “This morning, I asked Lucy the same thing I asked you yesterday, what kissing a girl was like.”

“She was nervous, but after coffee and some prodding, she opened up,” Francine said.

“Rather than describing what kissing any girl was like, her eyes got glassy and she described what kissing you felt like,” Becky continued.

“Is this inquiry leading to a question?” Em asked, smiling. Becky waved her hand, indicating it was coming.

“When we were talking at Samantha’s, I asked the same thing, expecting a different answer.”

“And?” Em prompted, knowing there was a pointed question hiding in this description.

“It was funny, they each did the same thing. Instead of describing kissing any girl, they all described what kissing you was like. But none of them said the same thing. Lucy said you were forceful and commanding, another said you were cautious and timid, someone else said you were playful, telling jokes and teasing.”

Susanna blushed and raised her hand. “I said you were tender and slow, showering me with love.”

Em groaned, realizing where this was going. It was one of her best-kept secrets and why everyone put up with her playing the field. Still, even though she was pretty good about controlling conversations with suspects, she was interested just where this one might lead.

“So why do you kiss one girl differently than the others? I mean, isn’t a kiss just a kiss?”

“It is with most guys,” Francine offered. “Usually it’s demanding and impatient, and over way too soon.”

“You’d make a great detective. You zeroed in on my technique.” She took a sip preparing her response. “Kisses are typically the same for most people,” Em conceded. “But I simply give each girl what she’s looking for. If someone is feeling stressed, I take my time. If they’re lonely, I make them feel loved, not asking anything in return as I draw them out. With others, like Lucy, she wants someone who’s as physical and aggressive as she is. No, that’s not quite true. She likes someone to take the lead. She spends so much time being the tough New Yorker, she enjoys someone else taking over so she can appreciate being soft—which is nice in itself.”

Becky cocked her head, curious about the process. “So you kiss each woman depending on what they want? How the heck do you know when you first meet someone?”

Em fidgeted a moment, speaking slowly. “I draw them out. As they open up, I drill down, discovering what they want. Most people love talking about themselves, so it’s easy getting them to reveal their hidden desires. So when we finally kiss, I understand how to approach it. As you said, each girl searches for something different. Sometimes it’s not what their previous girlfriend did, some need reassurance and some a spark. The key is to relax them, and the best way to do that is to give them what they’re looking for.”

“So what is it you look for?” Francine asked. Susanna giggled, wondering it herself but afraid to ask. She didn’t want to admit she didn’t know after all this time.

Em scratched behind her ear. “Frankly, I’m not in it for myself. No, that’s not true. Instead I’m not into kissing for the romance or as a prelude to sex. I’m there to open up to someone. My job is stressful, and I don’t like dumping all my aggravations on any one person. So by keeping people happy, they’re more receptive afterwards while I yammer on about my work. I’m not even sure they listen, but at least they nod and say ‘uh huh’ at the appropriate times.”

Amanda leaned forward, motioning with her glass. “Wait. You said that yesterday too. What’s this business about juggling girlfriends? Is it about protecting yourself emotionally, sheltering potential girlfriends, or is it just an emotional high, seeing how many you can keep on the hook?”