By age 30 I found myself in crisis mode brought on by formerly latent desires rising to the surface like air bubbles in water. Married for 4 years to the man of my dreams, I wanted more than a friendship with Danielle Long, a lesbian whom I had met through Instagram.
The recent photo originally published on her instagram, one that she also emailed to me recently, shows a very attractive blue-eyed blond wearing a blue bikini on Headlands Beach. She has a slim hourglass figure. Her hair is short, a style similar to that of Ellen.
Anyway, Tuesday night sees my husband Fred bowling, gone since 7 o'clock. If he and friends go someplace for a beer, which they usually do, he's not likely to be home much before 9 30.
Sitting comfortably on the recliner in the livingroom, I placed a Facetime call which Dani answered on the second ring.
"Hey Stephanie, how's the world treating you?"
"I'm good, and you?"
"Great."
"What are you up to?"
"A girls night is looking more and more like a good idea."
"Where did you have in mind? And when?"
"I'm thinking Charleston Lounge, Friday night. I'm ready to tell my husband that I'm gay, or just let him catch me in the act."
She chuckled but did not reply immediately.
"How come you never told me that you're marred?"
"I don't know. I guess I just wanted to make sure of what I have."
"Fair enough," she replied.
"Dani I'm ready for more than a friendship."
"Are you telling me you want to have sex?"
I answered with a silent grin and a nod.
"In your master bedroom right?"
Again I replied with a silent grin and a nod.
The conversation became trivial at that point, much like other conversations that we've had during the past four months.
Seconds after ending the call I walked naked to the bedroom leaving my clothes strewn about the livingroom floor. Lying face up, I gave my clit a hard rub back and forth bringing on a powerful orgasm. For a minute afterward I lay recuperating slowly and wanting yet another climax.
Charleston Lounge is a popular lesbian haunt which, until now, I know only through photos and it's web page.
Friday night a 7 30 a red Toyota UBER driven by a 50 something gent dropped me off about 50 steps from that club. My heals clacked on the concrete. On the warm summer evening I'm wearing a white half-button cropped cami top, much like I used to wear to get a guy's attention. Tight midrise jeans accentuate my curves.
The Charleston lesbian bar turns out to be pretty much what I expected. Provocative pictures hang on the walls. A rainbow flag is suspended from the ceiling. Lampshades hang. Ceiling fans spin cooling the room.
Scanning the room for Danielle, I see several girls dancing, or more like stepping and swaying to loud music. Couples are flirting. Every bar stool is occupied. Off in another direction there is a pool table. A match is in progress.
Dani had told me to "be on the lookout for a girl wearing a white long-sleeved buttoned-blouse". So far, though I've only been here for a few minutes, I see no one wearing that.
Finally, she approached me.
"Stephanie I'm so glad you came."
"I wouldn't miss this."
"Can I buy you a drink?"
"Gin and Tonic," I replied.
"Let's go to the bar."
The bartender, like Dani, is blond with short hair and blue eyes, but otherwise dissimilar facial features. I also noted that her boobs are rather modest, unlike those on Dani.
Dani ordered gin and tonic for me and a White Russian for herself which we sipped.
