1999: Solace and Rosanna had known each other for a year. In that time they learned a great deal because they spent hours talking, mostly in person as they lived in such close proximity. Solace discovered that Rosanna had a real thing for neatness and order. This subject was the source of several heated discussions and activities.
“Sol, why don’t you put your stuff where you’re going to find it. If you would put your cane, your bag, your shoes, your watch, your brush…everything in a special place, you wouldn’t have to look for them every time you’re going out,” Rosanna said in exasperation as she searched Solace’s coat closet, for what seemed the hundredth time for the bag which solace claimed held the wallet with her credit cards and identification.
“Look, are you going to help me, Sanna, or bitch?” Solace asked, hands on hips, but she remembered something and dashed into her bedroom.
“I’m going to do both because we go through this all the time, and you don’t seem to be trying to do anything about it, Sol,” Rosanna answered in annoyance. She moved around the living room, turning over pillows and looking under tables.
“I have a system, you know!” Solace called from her bedroom. These words stopped Rosanna in mid-search.
“You do?” she asked incredulously. It did not seem possible that Solace, who was always searching for some lost item, had the nerve to say she actually had a method behind her madness. She marched into Solace’s bedroom, which was surprisingly neat. Solace had probably crammed everything into her closets.
“And what would--?” Rosanna did not finish her query because she was stunned into silence by the sight of Solace’s panty-clad rear end as she crawled around her queen-size bed. She finally managed to come to her overloaded senses to ask, “Sol, what are you doing?” Her hands trembled slightly and her heart rate definitely sped up a notch.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m looking under my bed,” Came Solace’s muffled reply. She was sweeping the floor with her hands.
Rosanna’s arousal turned to mirth and she began to chuckle.
“Do you think this is funny, Sanna, the fact that I can’t find my identification and maybe somebody might be stealing all my credit right now?” asked Solace continuing to search, her buns moving from side to side in her efforts.
“Oh, no, Sol, of course not.” Rosanna said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “But why are you looking under your bed for a bag? Shouldn’t bags be hanging on a hook in your closet?” Rosanna asked, making an imaginary circle around Solace’s buttocks as if it were a target.
“I think I might have brought it in here last night. I was so tired; I came right in here and collapsed. I think I dropped it down,” Solace replied, making her way slowly around her bed.
As Rosanna followed Solace’s progress, she looked up briefly and spotted the bag on the window-seat. She said nothing because she was enjoying the show of Solace’s bouncing buns. Her fingers flexed as she thought about caressing those glorious round cheeks. .
“And what system is this, Sol? I have to hear this.” Rosanna crossed the room and sat on a nearby cushion. Solace's only chairs were in her kitchen.
“Well,” continued Solace, “I believe that the brain should not be taxed with trying to remember every minute detail of our lives. So I am selective with my memory.” She finished her speech with conviction.
“And what have you selected to remember?” Rosanna asked as she grabbed the bag from the window-seat and placed it in her lap.
“I have selected to remember how to make those delicious dishes for which you are always complimenting me.” Rosanna could not argue this point as Sol was a wizard of efficiency in the kitchen and her dinners were causing Rosanna to have to work even harder at the gym to keep off the extra pounds. How Sol did it she did not know, an enviable metabolism she supposed. Solace assured her that she only really cooked for her guests and she did not have the inclination to prepare such meals for herself.
Solace stood up and moved towards Rosanna. She leaned over and teasingly stuck out her tongue. As she did so, she noticed that Rosanna held an object in her lap. Solace put out her hands, examined the item, and realized it was her lost bag.
“Sanna, how long have you been holding my bag?” she asked sweetly.
“Oh, not long,” Rosanna replied with a wicked smile.
“And why didn’t you tell me you had it?” Solace inquired further as she attempted to wrench the bag from Rosanna’s death grip.
“Well, I was enjoying your scrambling around your bed. You have the cutest butt.” Rosanna responded in a mischievous tone, hoping Solace would not try to retaliate.
“Oh, really?” Solace said, moving her hands towards Rosanna’s middle. She pounced! Because Rosanna was holding the bag she did not have her usual lightening quick advantage. Solace began to tickle her mercilessly. Rosanna laughed through her protestations and dropped the bag. She grabbed Solace’s hands in her strong ones and held on.
“Not fair! I’ve got to start working out!” shrieked Solace. She was wearing only a short, satin dressing gown, which began to slide up her body suggestively as she struggled to free herself. The garment accented Solace’s smooth body, and it was having a hypnotic effect on Rosanna. She pulled Solace to her and kissed her, her tongue seeking gentle entrance into Solace’s warm mouth. Solace did not protest. Rosanna released Solace’s hands and wrapped her arms around her waist. As the kiss deepened she began stroking Solace’s back in slow, sensuous circles. Solace went limp for she loved kissing Rosanna’s sweeter than honey lips.
Solace broke off the kiss reluctantly, her breathing ragged. She looked right at Rosanna's now flushed face. “You take advantage of me, Sanna. You find my stuff, your way too strong and then you make me weak with your kisses. It’s just not fair.” She twirled her finger around a lock of Rosanna’s dark hair and pulled, not hard enough to do damage, just enough to make her point.
“All’s fair in—“ Rosanna began but was stopped by Solace’s own kiss.
“Please don’t finish that,” Solace breathed as they came up for air. Rosanna’s hands began a slow journey down Solace’s satin-covered back. As her caresses neared Solace’s tantalizing derriere, her progress was halted by Solace’s firm hand.
“No, Sanna,” Solace said, a note of determination, tinged with regret in her voice.
“Why, Sol. You know you want me to.” Rosanna breathed, a note of frustration and confusion coloring her own tones.
“I…you…if we… Oh, just no, Sanna!” Solace broke away from Rosanna, turned and rummaged for a pair of shorts and a tee-shirt that were strewn across her bed. She entered her bathroom and closed the door. As she dressed, she thought about her decision not to allow Rosanna to continue what would surely have been an extremely erotic and satisfying experience. She felt in her deepest core that if she gave herself to Rosanna, it would be the end of their relationship. Rosanna would move on having achieved her goal of conquest. The fact that they shared many interests: music, political beliefs, tastes in plays and musicals and, of course, their shoe addiction, would come up only a distant second. But she also worried that if she didn’t give herself to Rosanna, that Rosanna might give up on her and move on to more willing prospects. She was torn. She asked Jessie about it and had received the non-committal response of ‘do what feels right to you, Solace’. Well, that was no help because what felt right was making wild and passionate love to Rosanna.
When Solace returned to the room, Rosanna was gone. She raced to the living room in a panic only to find Rosanna lounging on her favorite cushion, arms crossed over her chest, legs crossed at the ankles, simply waiting for Solace to make her entrance.
“One day, Sol,” was all Rosanna said. Her voice was low, sultry, and confident.
“One day, Sanna.” Solace agreed.
As Rosanna attempted to continually coax Solace into putting her belongings in a more “blind-friendly” manner, Solace tried to curb Rosanna’s quick and impulsive temper, which had been displayed on several memorable occasions. It was as if a button had been pushed and she could not control herself. One incident stood out in particular because it had almost landed Rosanna in jail. The situation had flared up like a match struck on a birthday cake, but there certainly had been nothing to celebrate.
“Do you want to rehearse tonight, Sol?” Rosanna asked as she leaned on the banister leading up to Solace’s apartment.
