1.
Wow, so it was really going to be real. My husband Ted had finally gotten that job in California. We were moving out west; in three weeks we would be out of the apartment and out of New York City, driving a Ryder truck across the country, on our way to a whole new life.
It still didn't seem quite real. And yet there was so much to take care of, so many loose ends to wrap up. I quit working --as a freelancer that was easy enough for me to do; Ted would have to stay in his office almost all the way to the bitter end.
I ran into Amy, the daughter of the couple who lived downstairs from us, sitting on the stoop. My hands were full of grocery bags. She offered to hold one for me while I opened the front door.
Amy was a pretty girl; soft and curvy and bookish, a polite and soft spoken eighteen-year old. I had had a huge --and rather perverted- crush on her ever since we had moved into the place two years ago. Sometimes when Ted and I had sex, I fantasized about her listening to us from down below, masturbating to our sex noises. Sometimes I would moan out loud just for her imagined benefit.
She was so cute, so pretty and serious and I found her teenage awkwardness absolutely enchanting. I think she kind of reminded me of myself at that age. Only sexier. I had hardly ever talked to her; in her presence I seemed to become as tongue tied as a teen myself.
"Is it true you're moving out Mrs. Katz?" she asked me, still holding a bag full of groceries.
"Yes," I told her, "Me and my husband are moving to California at the end of the month."
"Oh," Amy said, looking sad, "I'm going to miss you guys so much."
She very sweetly offered to help me carry the groceries upstairs (Ted and I lived on the fifth floor, Amy and her family lived on the fourth.) When we got to the front door, I set down my bags and fumbled for the key. When I unlocked the apartment door, there was an electrically charged pause. After what seemed like a long time, but what was probably only a couple of heartbeats, I said "Amy, would you like to come in and hang out for a while?"
Oh My God. Was I hitting on a girl half my own age?
"Sure Mrs. Katz, that'd be great. I've never even been inside your place before."
"Okay," I said as the door shut fatefully behind us, "but if we're going to be friends, you've got to stop calling me 'Mrs. Katz'. My name is Andrea."
"No problem... Andrea," she said, "Where should I put this bag?"
"Right next to the bed, along with all your clothes." was what I wanted to say. Instead I said, "On the kitchen counter would be fine, thanks."
"Would you like a coke Amy?" I asked as I put vegetables away.
"Sure." she said. I dug a can of coke out of the refrigerator and opened a beer for myself. We sat down on the couch in the living room and talked about school, work, the weather, whatever. That is to say, we talked about nothing in particular. I had the eerie feeling that I was out on a first date.
Then, out of the blue, she hit me with a thunderbolt.
"Mrs. Katz- I mean Andrea, have you ever kissed a girl?"
Oh God. My clit, which had been obnoxiously perky ever since Amy had said 'Hello' suddenly swelled up like a hard pink pencil eraser.
"Yes," I managed to say without choking, "Yes, I have."
"Is it different from kissing boys?" she wanted to know, "Is it nicer?"
I thought back to the different girls I had kissed. Holy shit, I hadn't been with a girl since I was Amy's age. "It's certainly different," I told her, "Nicer? I guess it depends on who you're kissing."
"Oh, okay." she said, "I was thinking about being a lesbian. But I wasn't sure because I've never kissed a girl before." She finished her coke. "Well, I've got to go. Thanks for letting me hang out Mrs. Katz."
As son as she left I pretty much pulled my jeans straight down and masturbated to a humongous (and loud) orgasm right there on the couch. When Mr. Katz got home later that evening, he didn't know what had hit him. Not that he was complaining; I almost never initiated sex. To tell the truth I usually preferred my vibrator, any more.
2.
The next day, about three in the afternoon, there was a tap at the door. I honestly had no idea who it might be. UPS? Jehovah's Witnesses? I had been packing books (books are the bane of moving) away into boxes. There at my door was Amy, bright and sunny, wearing a little white sundress that was almost but not quite see through. My heart leapt up into my throat.
"Hey Mrs. Katz! I was wondering if you felt like hanging out. My parents won't be home till this evening. If you feel like company that is. If you don't mind."
Of course I didn't mind. Amy's father was Polish, her mother Palestinian. I have no idea how they met. They seem like really nice people. He was an engineer, she was an architect, and they both kept long hours. I knew Amy had two older brothers, but they were both grown up and out of the house. Poor kid must be lonely.
"Come on in!" I said, "And stop calling me Mrs. Katz. I'm only 36. You make me sound so old!"
"I don't think you look old Andrea," she said skipping into the apartment, "I think you're beautiful."
Oh God.
"I hope I'm not interrupting you." she said, noticing the boxes strewn across the living room floor, "Is this a bad time?"
"Not at all," I said truthfully, "I needed a break anyway. Can I get you a coke or anything?"
"A glass of water would be great, thanks!"
I poured her a glass of water and opened a beer for myself (I needed a beer!), and we both sat down on the big comfy red couch. How were we going to get that big old couch down the stairs? Ugh.
"I decided I'm not a lesbian." Amy piped up. I almost choked on my drink. "At least I've decided that I don't have to decide yet."
"That's right," I said, "You've got plenty of time to decide."
"And some people like both, don't they?"
