Butch

Ryan sat in a chair on the deck outside the Point Reyes coffee bar, looking at the colors of the new day. Her hair was still wet from the makeshift shower she had taken at a gas station on the ride north. Inside, the owner was speaking a bit too harshly to a new kid, who was on his second try of making a cappuccino for a waiting customer. Ryan glanced over her shoulder at his furrowed brow, smiling to herself, remembering those days of not getting it right. We all learn through repetition, she thought to herself. She took one more sip from her mug, looking at the dregs of the ground espresso at the bottom. She thought of her mother, who insisted coffee grounds at the bottom of cup was an indicator of poor service. Ryan closed her eyes, thinking it had been a while since she had seen her. She took out her phone and dialed slowly, half hoping there wouldn't be an answer.

__________________________________

Alex took a hit from her cigarette and admired the view from the bedroom window. People bitch about the rich, but some of these places are nice. You get what you work for...or what you inherit in some cases. Her eyes roamed over the crown moldings, Victorian artwork, maple floors, custom furniture. She looked at the sleeping body beneath the sheets beside her, a few brunette locks splayed about the pillow and comforter. She had a vague recollection of the night before: a smorgasbord of carnal acts in Twin Peaks, walking to her truck and being asked for a light by a woman in a Rolls, and ending up here in the Presidio.

She dropped her cigarette into an empty wine bottle by the bed, and reached over slowly, removing the sheets from the mystery woman's shoulders. Alex placed her hands on her shoulders, firmly but softly. She touched deeply, closing her eyes, rubbing softly until she heard a soft moan. Her fingers trailed down the woman's back, and she arched in response. Alex smiled, smelling the sweetness of perfume tinged with sex. She kissed along the woman's shoulders, rolling her over onto her back. Her breasts, almost too firm, yielded hard nipples, which she kissed and sucked. Her thighs parted as Alex kissed along the woman's stomach, stifling a laugh when spying a black widow tattoo on her mons. She licked the stubble of an oft-groomed strip of hair, nestling her tongue along and inside parted legs, wet lips. The woman kept her eyes closed, grinding her pelvis slowly as Alex took what she wanted.

A cell phone rang, and the woman cursed briefly in a slight English accent. Her climax building, she told Alex not to stop. Alex lapped and sucked at her clit and lips feverishly, two fingers twisting and turning inside the woman's wet pussy. Her breath quickened, the grasp on Alex's hair intensified, and she orgasmed while sitting up quickly to pinch one of Alex's nipples. Alex yelped with surprise and pain, the woman clutching her hand to stay inside her as she rode out the wave of pleasure, giggling at her stunt and collapsing onto the bed.

Alex looked down at her own chest. "That's an original way to say good morning," she said to herself. The woman was listening to the cell phone message and now dialing.

"Yes, Peter....I've had some...family matters this morning. I won't be in until 11 or so. Oh, yes, things are just fine. It's my...niece. She's dropped by unexpectedly. Alright, thank you." She was very British, and a good liar.

Alex looked back at the woman, giving a wry smile. She returned Alex's gaze without expression, grabbing the harness and cock, pushing it toward Alex and getting to her hands and knees.

She looked over her shoulder at Alex, who was holding the accoutrements. In a thick British accent she snapped, "Well don't just sit there. Give Auntie one more good shagging so we can get on with our lives."

________________________________________________________

Ryan wended the Triumph along the sidewinding roads of Inverness to the A-frame cabin where her mother and step father lived. The house looked the same: sunbleached, the deck's finish peeling off, the old rod iron patio furniture that nobody used. She approached the door, which opened before she made it up the steps.

Barbara looked smaller, her eyes drooping more in the corners. There was always a sense of disappointment in coming home, though it was never spoken.

She made an effortful smile, opening the door wider as Ryan approached. "It's good to see you, Ryan." She in turn hugged her mother, a noticeable stiffness in the two small frames.

As usual, Barbara busied herself making tea. Ryan sat in the living room, taking in the familiar smells of floral candles and cat litter. "How is Carl doing?" Ryan stood to look at the pictures on the mantle.

"He's keeping busy as best he can," her mom replied, adding details about his auto parts business and his latest procurement to his classic car collection.

Ryan's eyes gazed over the pictures: her mother's friends, her mother and Carl on their yearly vacation in Hawaii, and many pictures of Ryan from infancy until late elementary school. Nothing thereafter.

A cup of tea was handed to her gingerly on her left. "Carl and I stayed at the Hyatt on Maui this year," her mother stated. "It was beautiful! We didn't even have to leave the hotel grounds, as they had everything you could ever dream of right there!"

Ryan took the tea, sipping and focusing on the taste, the heat of the tea to prevent her emotions from coming to the surface. She smiled at her mother, and listened patiently to the features of the Hawaiian hotel and the business seminar they attended.

They talked of weather, the marriage and/or new babies of a few of Ryan's cousins, and briefly of Ryan's work.

"Do you make the desserts?" her mother asked. Barbara continued to have the notion that every female who worked in a kitchen was either a pastry chef, or a part-time TV network star ala Martha Stewart or Rachael Ray. Ryan kept it simple, explaining her role as sous chef at The Nines, and her catering side jobs.

"I need to get going, Mom," Ryan said after the conversation had been exhausted.

Her mom put on her reading glasses, and picked up a newspaper. She handed Ryan a coupon for a clothing store, adding that they were having a sale on some very fashionable skirts and blouses. Ryan took the coupon silently, and placed it into her pocket. She had long ago learned not to contest these offers.

The two women hugged briefly, and Ryan let herself out. She immediately felt like she could breathe easier outside, as the weight of life seemed to lighten. It was a difficult way to grow up for them both: Ryan knew who she was, and when that became obvious, her mother did her best to shut it out. To each other, they'd become two veneers of themselves interacting for brief intervals in time.

Ryan's legs ached as she climbed the steps to the apartment, her body sore from the night before. As she let herself in, she was revisited by familiar sounds of moaning coming from Alison's bedroom, a rhythmic thumping and intermittent grunts and sighs. Ryan smiled to herself, closing the front door softly. Al must have the day off. Ryan removed her shoes, walking quietly and quickly along the hallway. It didn't sound like Melisa in there, she thought to herself.

Ryan undressed and stood under the shower head a moment just letting the water drip down her body. She could feel her skin becoming hot and red, but the pain and slight burning felt good. Wanting to leave before anyone emerged from Alison's room, Ryan dressed quickly in black pants and a white tee. She'd get ahead of the catering orders for the holiday weekend. The moaning intensified as she grabbed her jacket and locked the door.

____________________________________________________________

Receipts were scattered in organized piles about the stockroom. Ryan alternated her attention among recipe cards, scratching down figures on a notepad, and punching buttons on her calculator. The Cubano music from the kitchen was in full swing, with one of the more vocal prep cooks loudly adding his own refrains. She was faintly aware of a knocking on the back door, which escalated to pounding when it wasn't answered. She sighed and got up carefully as not to knock over her work.

Alex jumped back as the door swung open, pulling the dolly back out of the way. "Easy tiger," she said to Ryan, who stood aside to let her by. Alex looked down at Ryan's arm, noting the Aquarius tattoo.

"You can leave it here...the stockroom's a mess," Ryan said, indicating a corner in the back. She walked back to the stockroom, tiptoeing around the receipts and sitting inside the one bare spot on the floor. Alex stood still, watching Ryan walk by. She unloaded the handtruck and rapped gently on the open stockroom door, showing Ryan the page that she needed for signature of the delivery.

"Sorry, let me grab a pen," Ryan said. Alex watched her cross the room, leaning over the table with well-toned forearms to sign the order.

"Can you spare a piece of paper?" she asked Ryan. Ryan gestured her hand at the receipts scattered around the room. "Take your pick," she responded with a smile as she looked up at Alex. Something was familiar in those eyes and Ryan averted her gaze, returning to her post.

Alex tore off a piece of paper from a blank order slip, jotting something down. "That's for you, Aquarius," she said, placing the paper on the table.

Ryan looked up, but Alex had gone. She rose silently, walking to the desk and picking up the paper. An address in the Sunset, nothing more. Ryan walked to the back door, opening it and peering out into an empty alley.

____________________________________________________

Alex gazed at the sunset from her usual perch in Twin Peaks, taking slow easy drags on her cigarette. The radio in her truck was broken again, and the dial wouldn't move from the Chinese station it seemed to cling to these days. The silence forced her to confront her thoughts. What were the chances that she'd run into the same woman she had "anonymously" been fucking the night before? And at work, besides! Alex wasn't an overtly spiritual person, but when the universe throws something in your face like this, it must be worth paying attention. And she responded to it, as she'd learned to do over the years. She put herself out there. But what would come in return?

Her cell phone rang, removing her from the world of hypotheticals. She glanced at the number, her mind registering the green-eyed blonde she'd been with a few nights ago. "To voicemail you go," she said as she silenced the phone. Something heavy weighed on her, and for once sex wasn't the distraction she sought. She put out her cigarette, her truck coughing to a start, and glided down the hills toward home.

She walked through the door, balancing the pad thai and glass noodles in her hands. She removed her shoes in the foyer, not wanting to soil the off-white carpet. Sergei, her Russian blue cat, bid her a lazy greeting as he followed Alex into the kitchen. She saw a faint paw print on the white countertop and immediately wiped it clean, then set the food down and began to eat over the sink. She glanced past the dining room table, which sat simply and immaculately set, as if in preparation for some future party, or perhaps a showing of a model home. The morning haze had returned to the backyard, and the trees weakly filtered the last light of the day. She walked carefully with her fork and styrofoam container to the slider, gazing through the glass. Her cell phone rang again, and she silenced it without looking at the display. Walking outside, she ate in silence, leaning against a post on the patio. She let the darkness surround her as she finished her dinner, the cat slinking between her calves. She felt something inside, some sort of impending energy that she couldn't interpret. She would usually turn on some music, go out into the city, watch a movie. This time she would let it evolve. Alex placed her fork in the dishwasher, leftovers in the fridge, and went into the master suite for a shower. She would stay in tonight.

_________________________________________________________

Ryan's head spun with numbers and dollar signs. She removed her glasses, rubbing her eyes with thumb and forefinger. She was given this to do, told she was great with the numbers. But she couldn't help be resentful of the executive chef at times, who lately seemed to wander the dining room, taking the credit for work done by others in the back. That's the business, though, she told herself. She reviewed the food quantities with the two catering teams set to go out that night, and all appeared in order. Ryan stood in the back of the kitchen, observing the crew in their synchronized culinary dance. Every station was covered, hands working quickly and expertly, the new expediter keeping it all moving with ease. Mike came back into the kitchen, congratulating the crew on its performance for mucky mucks at table 4, rubbing his thumb and fingers in the air symbolizing a great tip coming their way. He smiled, approaching Ryan.

"Thanks for covering my ass with the ordering this weekend. Why don't you take the night off, Ryan," he said. "I'll be around, and keep these guys on their toes if they get into trouble."

Ryan looked at Mike, feeling somewhat guilty for the resentment she had felt minutes before. Her younger self would have declined his offer, wanting to prove herself as the strong chef she would be...and now was. But she found herself agreeing, thanking him, and gathering her things to leave.

She sat on her bike as it idled in the alley. Ryan closed her eyes and saw the address on the paper in her pocket. She started for home, but found herself driving toward the Sunset. Before she knew it, she had turned off the ignition and was sitting outside Alex's house.

She hooked her helmet on the handlebar, and walked slowly up to the doorway. She wasn't sure if the bell had actually rung when she pushed it, but she didn't want to push it again. If nobody came, it would be a sign to leave. What was she doing here anyway? She started to turn away, when she heard a faint meowing behind the white wooden door. It opened, and Alex peered out with wet hair falling in sections around her face.

"Aquarius," Alex said softly.

Ryan looked up in agreement, walking in as the door opened for her. Alex stood by the entry table in her robe, fingers combing her hair back in a nervous gesture. She looked surprisingly feminine, vulnerable.

"I didn't expect you so soon," she said giving an effort to make a lighthearted smile. The tension was palpable.

"I didn't expect to be here," Ryan replied, her eyes gazing over the living room, noting the neutrality of the floors, the bare walls, the utter lack of any aesthetic dalliance. Form was function here. Her eyes wandered to the cat, who was meowing and slinking between Alex's calves. Ryan noted her painted toes...red. Her eyes gazed upward slowly, taking in the feminine curves the robe revealed. She dropped her bag on the floor.

Alex opened her mouth to say something, but was silenced by Ryan's approach. She leaned in slowly, purposefully and kissed Alex with a reserved tenderness. Alex returned the kiss as softly, feeling Ryan's hand on the belt of her robe. Alex covered Ryan's hands with her own, moaning in protest. She took Ryan's hand in hers and walked her to the bedroom.

It was equally sparse in decor, Ryan observed as Alex closed the door. Ryan tried to kiss her again, but Alex stepped back, pulling at Ryan's tshirt, bringing it up and over her head. Ryan looked into Alex's eyes as she undressed her in silence. What would normally be done with lascivious urgency was happening in slow motion in this white cell. Alex's robe was the last to be removed, and the two women stood facing one another at the foot of the bed.

Alex pulled the white comforter aside, and lay on the bed, silently gazing at Ryan. She followed in turn, lying beside Alex, then sidelying to touch her. Alex looked up at the ceiling as Ryan's fingers caressed her cheeks, lips, chin, along her neck to her collarbone. Ryan's lips kissed Alex's shoulder, and she felt Alex turn away. Ryan stopped, hearing Alex's irregular breathing, he shoulders gently shaking as she cried.

"If this is too much, I can stop," Ryan said, knowing she was lying.

Alex sniffled, shaking her head, and Ryan placed her hand on her back, caressing softly. She moved toward Alex, gently wrapping her arms around her and holding her close, their bodies molding to one another. Ryan kissed the back of Alex's neck, fingertips gliding over her taut abdomen, feeling the curves of her hips. She sighed, trying to keep her desire in check.

Alex's arm came up and around, her fingers combing through the back of Ryan's hair as they began kissing passionately, her body half turned toward Ryan. Tongues clashed and melded, their lips sucked and nipped at one another in syncopated rhythms. Nipples touched and hardened as Ryan's body slid over Alex, whose wrists were pinned to the mattress by lustful hands. They grinded into and against one another, the wet raze of trimmed hair stimulating the other all the more. Ryan kissed between Alex's breasts, as she felt her head cradled. A surprising fullness met Ryan's lips as she suckled Alex's nipples, feeling the weight of her breast in her hand. Her fingers caressed and teased her other nipple, already hardened with excitement. Ryan's fingers moved naturally along Alex's abdomen, when she was stopped by Alex's hand on her wrist. Ryan looked up and saw Alex's closed eyes, knowing this was difficult for her to receive this pleasure, to be this vulnerable.

Ryan looked down at Alex's abdomen, her body shaking ever so slightly on the bed, and realized her own identical fear. With knowing eyes, she got to her knees, turning her body toward Alex's feet. She poised herself to straddle Alex's face, pausing inches from her mouth, her own anxiety building inside her. She felt Alex's hands along her hips, heard her whispering soothing words in a shaky voice. Ryan looked up at the ceiling, the fan appearing bulbous in the blur of her tears. She felt Alex's lips kissing along her ass, and she closed her eyes, the tears falling. Her wetness was increasing as Alex's kisses became more intense, hungry. Alex's hands coaxed Ryan's hips downward, and she gave in, arching forward. Ryan gasped as Alex's lips traced her labia, her inner lips so slick with excitement. Her own mouth was inches from Alex's trimmed pussy, but she steadied herself on her hands, receiving what was being given. Ryan began to moan in pleasure, a sound she was so used to eliciting in others. Alex's hips began to grind as she glided her tongue inside Ryan's pussy. Ryan balanced herself on one hand, tenderly stroking Alex's pussy as she consumed her. Her initial reaction was to pull back into the mattress, but Ryan persisted slowly, whispering those same words offered to her by Alex. Amidst moaning and quelling her own climax, Ryan leaned forward to kiss Alex's mons, hearing a muffled moan in response. Ryan kissed her labia softly, tugging at it with her lips. Her fingers gently teased her pussy lips, and Alex closed her legs, continuing to eat Ryan voraciously. Ryan resigned her efforts, placing her hands on Alex's knees and grinding on her face, beginning to climax. Alex pushed her forward and Ryan spilled onto the mattress on all fours, suddenly open to all possibilities. She could hear snaps, d-rings being fastened and adjusted behind her.

Ryan looked down on the carpet, as she was near the foot of the bed. A DVD copy of Madchen in Uniform sat leaning against the wall, and Ryan focused on it, remembering the story, the vulnerability of the characters. She felt eager hands on her ass, and she looked over her shoulder at Alex through teary eyes. Alex paused, suddenly aware of Ryan's need to surrender, and how difficult it was. Alex sat down, covering her strap-on with the sheets. "I'm sorry," she said softly, beginning to unfasten the harness.