Ryan woke at 9 am to the chill of a thick foggy Saturday morning. She had forgotten to close the window last night and the room had a slightly condensed, damp smell to it. She lie on her back, pulling up the blanket and gazing at the nick she sustained on her left index finger last night at work. Sharp knives, dull pain. She had to quickly mow down more parsley as garnish because not enough had been done during prep. The new kid on garde manger wasn't working out.
Alison hadn't been around for the past couple of days. This would be the third night of her shift at the station. Though Ryan had enjoyed having the place to herself, she became lonely at times. Constant banter wasn't necessary, but knowing another is near is reassuring. She and Alison understood one another, perhaps a little too well sometimes. But that's what made the roommate situation work. Unless you were rich, you couldn't make it any other way in San Francisco. Even in the Mission.
The fridge was stocked, as it usually was when Ryan did the shopping and Alison and her femme du jour weren't around to devour it all. As she gazed at the treasure trove of cheeses, eggs, meats and fresh veggies, Ryan grabbed a leftover pain au chocolat and scooped a generous helping of coffee beans into the burr grinder. As the beans became shards, she gazed at the calendar and smiled. The small highlighted entry for the day read "pInc 9-?" This was just what she needed.
The event was similar in theme to white parties that catered to the LGBT crowd, only pInc catered to an all lesbian crowd. Though a few known bisexuals were inevitably thrown into the mix. At the helm of this event was a Twin Peaks socialite, a trust fund baby who personally invited her attendees to partake in pure hedonistic delights. She opened her doors (and for some, her legs) twice a year for this organized ovarian orgy. Unlike white parties, attendees were required to wear black. Each event had a theme that was revealed upon entry, and each room of the 5000 square foot estate appeared to be redecorated. Funding was rumored to come from political and private sectors. All guests were anonymous, or at least encouraged to be, as each was given a domino mask upon entry.
Ryan had attended one previous pInc event about a year ago. She received her invitation during the latter end of a busy Friday shift. The embossed, heavy envelope bore the words "You Are Cordially Invited" in cursive by a well-trained hand. It was handed to her by a busboy who didn't reveal details of the sender. Ryan went on a whim, not knowing what the night would hold for her. She remembers flashes of the night still: the dim lighting, the mediterranean decor, nude masked women in all positions and contortions receiving and giving pleasure to one another. It was a feast for the senses, disbarring any thirst of emotion. It was not for the sentimental. It was the singular most devouring, exciting, barbaric sexual experience of her life.
* * * Kate walked briskly down Greenwich toward the health club where she anticipated catching her sister during her morning swim. After a brief semi-flirtatious banter with the queen who manned the front desk, she headed toward the locker room toward the entrance to the pool.
Of the six lanes, only three were occupied and Kate could identify Natalie easily. Her smooth, purposeful stride had been characteristic of her crawl stroke even at its inception during their adolescence. Kate took to running, but Natalie remained the water baby. Kate sat on a bench and looked out at the window at a woman tending to her fussy baby in a stroller. She remembered when Natalie's son Chance was that small. All the cooing and smiles. She also remembered Natalie's depression, and how it worsened after Chance was born.
"Hey, I thought that was you." Kate looked up to see Natalie toweling off and removing her swim cap. She looked great--toned, muscular arms and legs and a gentle glow of a tan. Even her eyes seemed to sparkle like they used to when they were kids.
"Nat, so good to see you." Kate stood and hugged her sister. She could feel Natalie hugging back--a good sign. The two had once been close, but these past few years had strained their relationship. Kate's "fluid sexuality," as Natalie phrased it, was disappointing to the entire family. And Natalie's depression had distanced them further.
Natalie pulled back some. "I thought we were meeting at the cafe. Did you think I'd forget? Because I'm fine, you know." Natalie held eye contact with Kate, and a confident smile crossed her lips. Kate was expecting anger and some sort of verbal assault for coming, but was pleasantly surprised. Kate began walking beside Natalie toward the locker room.
"No, Nat. Well, maybe. I just want to know you're OK," Kate said honestly. She stood back while Natalie opened her locker and pulled out her bag. A bottle of pills fell out onto the floor. Natalie looked up, and raised her eyebrows with a soft smile.
"I'm still taking them." Natalie picked up and lightly shook the bottle of lithium before tossing them back into her bag. "But exercise helps with the blues, and I'm trying to stay consistent. Be back in a couple minutes. Watch my stuff." Natalie winked and mussed Kate's hair. She grabbed her shampoo and conditioner and walked toward the shower.
Kate sat down on the bench and her heart felt at ease. She was so worried about what to say, how to approach Natalie if she sensed something was off. This was such a welcome relief.
"Hey stranger" said a curious voice. Kate turned to see a half nude brunette with a long bob dressing in the mirror. Their eyes met and Kate blushed, feeling a warm wetness in her panties. She last saw Erica in her studio during that last big rainstorm when the power went out. It had only been their second "date," but the forces of nature progressed it much further. Candles were lit and placed all over the studio. Erica's hair had been shorter and darker in that light. Art led to conversation led to wine led to dancing led to making out on the floor pillows. Kate remembered the look in Erica's light eyes as her tongue first touched Kate's wet pussy. The sounds, scents and tastes of their slow, writhing 69 still gripped her.
"Hey...Erica. How...how are you?" Kate recovered, smiling warmly. She was increasingly turned on, thinking of that memory. The nudity in the present moment surely was assisting. Erica turned away slightly and began rubbing lotion on her arms, chest and breasts.
"I'm doing well. You look great. I didn't know you worked out here?" She eyed Kate slowly, and Kate felt the desire build in her. She was aware and surprised by how sexually aggressive she felt in the moment and could feel everything dilate in response to it. She set Natalie's bag in her locker and closed the door.
"Yes, it has been a while." Kate eyed Erica, trying not to focus too obviously on her cleavage. She licked her lips. "I don't work out here...I'm meeting my sister. But hey, I have some ideas on your upcoming exhibit."
