Chapter 3

She called me at work the next morning. We had to postpone our second date; she ended up having a meeting that night. We compared schedules and found that the only time we could go out by ourselves was the next Friday. She was busy with meetings and dinners with clients; I was free most nights but we had also promised to go out with Allyson and Bretlynn some after work.

The four of us girls went out on Wednesday and Thursday. It was awkward. At least it was for me. I tried not to hover too much around McKayla and she avoided staring at me. It was like our date was something to hide.

Of course they knew we had gone out; Allyson told me as much later. They also knew we had gone out as more than "just friends", but neither of them said anything; I think they enjoyed watching McKayla and I sweat as if we had some deep, dark secret.

Each night I went to sleep wondering what I was getting myself in to. Was this infatuation or puppy love? Was I just experimenting? Was I really a lesbian? Or did I just find myself attracted to someone who was irresistible?

The memory of our kiss made me long for the next Friday night. That was the slowest week of my life, but it finally passed.

McKayla was coming over after work. I made reservations at Chez Pierre, a local French cuisine restaurant, and wanted things to be perfect for us. I was still nervous, but not as bad as the weekend before.

She showed up right on time.

"Hungry?" I asked as she stepped into my apartment.

"I'm starved, actually," she said.

After I went to retrieve my purse and keys, I turned to head for the door and found McKayla right behind me.

I jumped slightly. My body tensed as I felt her arms around me. She pulled me close and before I could react, gave me a deep, passionate kiss.

Slowly, I relaxed as her tongue entered my mouth. Her hands framed my face.

My heart nearly leapt out of my chest. Her kiss was both hard and gentle at the same time. I could feel the desire radiating from her, yet her touch wasn't rough or overpowering like a man's.

McKayla was all woman. She was very feminine but at the same time not girly.

She pulled back enough for me to take a quick breath, then nibbled softly on my lower lip.

Her hands brushed the hair out of my face.

"I've been waiting all week for that," she whispered.

"Me, too." My voice was barely audible.

No matter what I told my arms or feet or hands to do, I couldn't move. All I could do was stand there in her arms, trying to remember to breathe.

We gazed into each other's eyes for an eternity. Her big brown orbs were hypnotic and smoldered with lust and passion.

Finally, she let me go. I tried not to let out a disappointed sigh.

I took her hand and led her out to my car.

We made some small talk on the way to the restaurant. She had just landed a couple of new accounts at work and was very excited. I was just happy that my boss hadn't chewed on me the day before when a whole pallet of liquor had turned up missing (no one at work had actually stolen anything—this time—the new inventory system screwed up all on its own).

We were seated at a private corner table. The lights were low and the food was excellent. McKayla ordered a braised chicken and I had the stuffed duck in a white wine sauce. We talked for a while about little things.

"Amberle," she said right after we were done with our salads, her voice nervous. "Are you ... I mean ... do I ... aw, shit, I'm going to fuck this up, too..."

"Fuck what up?" I asked after a moment.

She took a deep breath. "Do I have a shot at being more than just a friend?"

I looked into her eyes. "I've been wondering that myself ... Listen ... This is all very new for me..."

Her hand reached across the table. I took it.

"I'm not good at relationships," McKayla said quietly. "All the ones I'm in usually end badly."

For a second, I was tempted to say something, but I could see that she was searching for just the right words.

After a false start or two, she began to speak, her voice hushed. "I don't like commitment. I don't like feeling like I'm tied down. Maybe it's because I spent so much time ... wondering if I was normal ... worrying about rejection or people not accepting me because of who I am ... I wish I could explain it."

Very gently, I took her hand in both of mine and gave her a reassuring look. "I'm just the opposite. I fall in love quickly. I like being in relationships. They're safe and secure ... or at least I like to think they are. Sometimes I put up with someone's shit for too long just because I don't want to be lonely. I've been trying out this single thing, but I'm not sure I really like it."

We were silent for a second. She looked away for a second and chuckled to herself. "We're quite a pair, aren't we?"

I smiled back. My mind flashed back to my last couple of boyfriends.

"Sometimes, I think I like the idea of being in love more than I like the person I'm with," I whispered.

"I like the idea of being in love, too ... I think I'm too chickenshit to do it, though." McKayla gave me a rueful smile. "You know that girl we saw the other night? ... Vicki ... She's my usual pattern. We met at a club, hooked up and then went out a few times. Then I started making excuses not to see her."

As her voice trailed off, I felt that little twinge of jealousy in my stomach again. "Why?"

McKayla looked away. "I don't know ... I think a part of me likes the one night stands ... I can't get hurt that way."

"I'm not the one night stand type," I said, my voice hardening unconsciously.

"You've never had a one-night stand?"

I just shook my head. That wasn't quite true, but I wasn't about to tell her that. Not then.

She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "Look at me ... I'm a mess."

"You're a beautiful mess," I said softly.

McKayla shot me an appreciative, yet mischievous, smile. "And you're full of shit."

We both took a quick drink, both to avoid having to say anything and to wet our dry mouths.

"Why did you ask me out?" she asked me for the second time.

"Because you're ... I don't know," I stammered. "Because it seemed right."

"I don't want to break your heart," McKayla warned.

"You don't want to break my heart or you don't want your own broken?"

I could tell a flippant retort was on her lips, but she stopped. I think the words stung her because they hit a little too close to home.

"McKayla," I began. I waited until she had looked up into my eyes. "I don't know what came over me. A part of me thinks that I've gone off the deep end. I've never been attracted to another woman, but when I look at you ... all I can think is that I've got to be with you."

"I want that, too." I could barely hear her.

Whatever she was going to say next was cut off by the servers bringing our dinner. We waited until everything was on the table and we were alone again.

"You know," she said, "You're the first girl in a long, long time that I've gone out to dinner with before I went to bed with her."

"I told you before," I replied with a sly smile and a slightly teasing tone, "I'm not going to be an easy lay for you, McKayla. You're going to have to work for me."

It was all I could do not to melt at the gaze she shot me just then. It was a good thing I was already sitting down because my knees got weak. I think if we hadn't been in public, she would have thrown all the plates and glasses to the floor, laid my body out on the table and had her way with me. And I don't think I would have stopped her.

I don't think I could have stopped her.

My pulse had quickened. My breaths came shorter.

"Sweetie," McKayla said finally. "You are so going to be mine."

It wasn't a warning as much as it was a promise.

I smiled inwardly. What she didn't know was that I was already hers.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. I don't remember what else we talked about, but we both managed to get our desires under control. She walked me to my door again.

"Would you like to come in?" I asked her for the second time.

She thought for a minute. "No."

Her response was shocking, to say the least.

"Not tonight," McKayla was clearly torn. I was hurt. Being turned down once was okay. Twice was giving me a complex. She took my hands. "Do you like me?"

"Yes," I replied, disappointment and frustration filling my voice.

"Then you need to decide if this is something you really want."

It was, or at least, I thought it was. Did I? Or was it just lust?

"Believe me," she said. "This is as hard for me as it is for you. If not harder."

I looked her in the eyes and knew she was telling the truth.

"There's nothing in the world I want more than to make love to you. Right. Now. But I want to give it a try."

"Give what a try?"

"Us." Her voice betrayed a hint of fear. "I'm tired of being lonely. I'm tired of hook-ups and break-ups. I can't promise anything ... and you'll have to be patient..."

My hand went to the back of her neck and I pulled her to me. Our lips met. Hungrily.

I finally let her up for air. Our breathing was laboured.

"I'll make you a deal," I said. "You don't do relationships. I don't do girls. Why don't we teach each other something new?"

Her response was to press me back against the door frame as she put her lips on mine. Our tongues dueled eagerly.

"That is the best idea I've heard all night." McKayla gave me one final kiss and then pulled away. She reached into her purse and pulled out a business card. She scribbled her address on the back. "Do you remember how to get to my place? Good. Come over tomorrow. Say ... three o'clock? Pack a bathing suit and an overnight bag."

Before I could respond, she turned and walked back to her car.

I was restless all night, wondering what the next day held in store for me. When the sun came up, I began going through my closet trying to find just the right outfits. I didn't know what McKayla had planned, so I threw a bunch of clothes into a bag and hoped I hadn't forgotten anything.

Right before I left, I took a shower and resisted the temptation to masturbate.

From what I could recall, McKayla lived about half an hour up the coast, and I left at about two, following the Mapquest directions to her house. I knew I was early, but I didn't want to get lost and be late. I drove by her subdivision with lots of time to spare, so I stopped in at a grocery store and bought a few bottles of wine.

As I pulled in to her driveway, I marveled at how big her house was. She had a good size lot and her house seemed to blend in nicely with the neighbourhood. Although it was only a single level, it seemed to sprawl out with the beach forming a nice backdrop.

I parked in her driveway and as soon as I got out of the car, McKayla came out to greet me. She was wearing a pair of denim shorts and a nice t-shirt. I threw my duffel bag over my shoulder and she carried the wine inside.

"Very nice," she said, putting the wine in a special built-in cooler under her counter. I picked up a zinfandel, a chardonnay, a merlot and one of my favourite dessert wines.

"Let me take your bag," she said, noticing my discomfort. She led me to the back of her house. The steps were familiar, only this time I wasn't hungover. She set the duffel in a corner of her bedroom, the same bedroom where I had woken up the week before.

I didn't really know what to expect next. A part of me hoped she would take it slow. Deep down, I wasn't really sure that my mind wanted what my body did. At the same time, my desire for McKayla was nearly overpowering.

"Did you have anything in mind for this afternoon?" she asked.

"Not really," I stammered.

"I thought we'd hang out for a while," she said. "We could go down on the beach or just lay out on the deck. There's a hottub if that's your speed. Or we could run over to the outlet mall that's right up the road and do some shopping ... I thought that I'd cook you dinner and then we could watch a movie or something."

My heart jumped at the "or something".

In truth, I was relieved that McKayla didn't just push me into bed (although a part of me would have been okay with that, too). "Let's just hang out here."

She seemed to let out a relieved sigh. "Okay. I'll let you change here. My suit's out on the deck."

As she brushed past me, I impulsively reached out and took her hand. She turned her head and our lips met for a brief second. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I started to nibble on her lip, but she pulled back, as if willing herself not to jump me right there.

Then she turned and quickly left her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

It only took a minute for me to change into my blue bikini. I pulled a t-shirt over it and went back to the kitchen looking for McKayla.

I drew in a sharp breath.

She was on the deck wearing a two-piece number that showed off her perfect form. Her dark hair hung down to the middle of her back. The thin spaghetti straps held up her gravity-defying breasts. I swear there wasn't an ounce of fat on that girl. The tingling started again in my gut.

McKayla turned and saw me through the bay window. Busted!

I could only blush. She smiled knowingly but didn't say anything.

With nowhere to hide, I walked outside onto the deck. The view of the ocean was amazing. There were a couple of trees in the backyard, but they were arranged so the shoreline was unobstructed. A privacy fence on each side of the lot kept the prying eyes of the neighbours away.

There was a small patch of grass and then the dunes started. A walkway led from the deck on the back of her house through the dunes and let out on the white sandy beach. At the fenceline, a door kept people from wandering in off the shore. A single showerhead let people rinse the salt and sand off before coming in.

The deck itself was large. It was tiered into three levels. Down from where we were standing, an area was carved out that held a grill and a table. Up one tier was the jacuzzi, another table and a covered bar. A handful of lounge chairs were scattered here and there.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked me.

"What have you got?"

"I was thinking of mixing up a couple of margaritas," she replied.

"That sounds great," I said.

"There are towels in the plastic bin behind the bar." McKayla answered my unasked question. "There's also suntan lotion in there, too. I've got some SPF 30, 40 and 45. On the rocks with salt, right?"

I nodded.

She went over to the bar and began mixing drinks. Nothing so crude as simply tequila and a mixer, but she handmade a margarita from scratch. Cointreau, Grand Marnier, a squeeze of lime juice and some blanco tequila she picked up on a cruise to Mexico. I don't know about you, but in my book, that qualified her as a keeper.

As I sorted through the sunblock, she handed me a glass. I took a long pull. It wasn't too strong or too sour. It was just right.

"Beach or deck?" she asked.

"Deck," I replied.

We sat down on a couple of the lounge chairs. The sun was out but the ocean breeze kept it from being too hot.

Taking turns, we greased each other up with the suntan lotion. Her hands seemed to linger on my body and when she was done, I was disappointed not to feel her touch. I know my hands spent more time roaming her body than was necessary.

For the time being, we pretended we were just two friends hanging out. The anticipation of the night was never far from my mind, though.

The drinks kept the butterflies under control, at least for me. McKayla seemed a little restless, but we lay out, taking care to turn over regularly.

We talked for the rest of the afternoon. Mostly about trivial stuff. Work. Our friends. Casual things.

Around five, McKayla had me tie the back of her bikini and then sat up. "I'm going inside to clean up and get dinner ready. You can shower in my room if you want or just hang out back here."

Then she leaned over and kissed me. There was hunger in her touch, and all too soon, she went inside, leaving me alone on the deck, my nipples sticking straight up and a tingle between my legs.

I spent the next few minutes trying to bring my heart rate down, then I went inside. McKayla had a couple of pots going and was busy cutting up some chicken.

She had changed into a sundress and smiled as I passed through. I went back to the bedroom and jumped into the shower, quickly washing off the oily lotion. I put on a nice blouse and a skirt and returned to the kitchen.

The smells were already permeating the house and my mouth started to water. I couldn't tell what she was making, but she had some pasta going, a white sauce in another pot and was sautéing up the chicken with some mushrooms.

"Can I help you with anything?" I asked.

McKayla looked thoughtful for a second. "How about opening up a bottle of wine? I think the chardonnay would go well with this."

It only took her about twenty more minutes to have dinner ready. She prepared the chicken and mushrooms in a white wine sauce and served it over linguini with a light tossed salad on the side. We ate on the back deck, watching the sky turn orange and red as the sun set behind us.

She was a tremendous cook and I tried to eat everything on my plate, but I just couldn't. I think my nerves were getting to me.

We finished dinner and she cleaned up. McKayla wouldn't even let me near the sink to wash my dishes off.