The hotel lounge was almost clamorous this evening. Hardly able to decipher what her friend was asking, Belle leaned in to hear better. The musky scent of her girlfriend's perfume and the gentle brush of the wispy tendrils of her hair against Belle's cheek caused an involuntary sigh. Not one of desire, really, but something else. Belle definitely never labeled herself sexually attracted to another woman. But who was she to deny the Sapphic charm of the intertwined female form?
Anyway, if Belle were ever to act on such a proclivity, Amelia would be the obvious choice. A tall, lanky blonde channeling Cameron Diaz. Near the antithesis to the busty brunette vixen that was Belle, who was likened by some to Kelly Brook.
Still, Amelia was not every man's ideal woman. The Harvard trained oncologist was simply too cerebral for that. No, only a man secure in his own erudition could crack that intimidating shell. Nevertheless, Amelia would surely play a feature role in the wet dream of any sexy librarian fetishist she encountered, mused Belle.
"So, have you and Alexander checked that special box on your fuck-bucket list yet?" Amelia repeated brashly. Although that question might otherwise have conjured scornful befuddlement, Amelia knew too well what rapacious sexual fantasies ignobled her college roommate.
Belle feigned ignorance, taking a prolonged sip of her lemon drop martini. As her red-polished fingertips wiped the sticky sweetness from her equally seductive red-glossed lips, Belle winked. Unflappable as always, huffed Amelia in feigned disrespect.
***
Their current state of affairs bore little resemblance from whence these two came. Manhattan and rural North Carolina shared few attributes. Instead, the ladies were the time constant.
Both were natural beauties from birth. In their youth, however, neither had yet come into her own femininity by any measure. Amelia was an only child, the daughter of an accountant father and a music school teacher mother. A prim and proper schoolgirl since anyone could recall. A star student ever more.
No one would have thought Amelia and Belle to be twins separated at birth. The distinction in coloration and body type being only a superficial difference.
Belle was the second of four siblings whose parents had divorced when Belle was just twelve. She did not manifest the daughter stereotype commonly associated with an absent father figure. Belle adored her father, even as he had watched over her from a thousand miles away during her teenage years. And no one who knew Belle would call her a Daddy's girl.
Belle eschewed floral for denim, pumps for trail runners, long hair for a cropped cut. But Belle was not a simple tomboy. She reveled in androgyny, among other things, fighting a losing battle with God-fearing school administrators about sitting for her senior high school portrait wearing a tuxedo. But nor did Belle try to mask her natural gifts. Still, no one, not even Amelia, could have guessed what fabulous curves Belle embodied.
The university had ended the status of Amelia and Belle as strangers by matching them as freshman roommates based on hometown geography. They each welcomed the opportunity to meet shortly before their arrival on campus. The roadhouse diner was the perfect setting, casually proud of its local identity, much like the girls themselves. To say the least, Amelia and Belle liked each other from the start.
Looking across the diner, the other patrons might easily have mistaken them for a teenage couple, Amelia in a summer dress and Belle in overalls. In no time, they gabbed away like old friends. And that's exactly how they remained through college graduation. As their kin would say, like peanut butter and jelly. This visage of their younger days, however, was to become a lost chapter from a seemingly different book.
***
It was Amelia's first visit to see Belle after an almost ten-year hiatus following college. That rainy day, Amelia exited the taxicab and stepped into the restaurant. Dispensing with her umbrella, she did not spy her dear old friend as she quickly scanned the crowded bar scene. Looking down at her watch to confirm the time, Amelia missed the giddy wave of Belle's hand in reunion. And as Amelia gazed upwards again, the woman strutting towards her was a familiar stranger.
Attired in a cowl neck silk shell and a crisp A-line skirt, Belle pranced towards Amelia in four-inch stiletto heels. The evidence that Belle had been caught in the rain earlier too was her still clinging top revealing the lacy bra beneath. All eyes followed Belle's approach.
Amelia was near speechless at the woman Belle had become. Stunningly sexy.
A small smidge of awkwardness passed with hardly a notice. Soon, the two were cocooned in conversation, oblivious to the continued surrounding stares. If snapshots from the diner and the bar were placed side-by-side, it would be plain to see how Amelia and Belle had matured elegantly from students to professional women.
And so, it was. Amelia and Belle caught up quickly, ebbing and flowing through laughs and comforting concerns. Much of Amelia's recitation centered in her medical school and internship grind. Belle reciprocated with business school exploits and the sad news of her Dad's passing.
Retiring to the more intimate setting of Belle's condo, only then did the two begin broaching the subject of men, sex and love. Neither had departed much from their upbringing. Tales of a few boyfriends and lovers in the interim, mostly vanilla and only passing.
And finally, the question that Amelia had struggled to keep on ice for hours. "OK, Belle, so tell me, who are you seeing now and what has he done with the Belle I knew in school?"
Belle beamed. It had taken all her reserve as well to hold back, not wishing to dominate their reunion with Belle's life now and the new center of her universe.
