Difficult Choices

Divorce is never easy, even if both parties desire it. When it is the action of only one of the two, it becomes more difficult; particularly when the other person had no clue that it was coming, nor any understanding of the reason for it. For Samantha Simmons, it had been particularly brutal. Her husband had taken her out for dinner on their tenth anniversary, they went home afterward, ostensibly to celebrate further in the bedroom, at which point he unceremoniously announced he was filing for divorce. He offered no opportunity for discussion nor any indication that he was amenable to resolving issues. His statement that he no longer loved her and she no longer satisfied him implied finality. Even throughout the court proceedings he offered no additional reasons.

Now, nearly a year later, Samantha was miserable and lonely. She had no idea what her future held. Each day was merely a sad repeat of the one before. She had done nothing more than go to work each day and home—which was now a dreary apartment; she hadn't wanted the house—each evening living a mundane existence.

Friends and family kept encouraging her, telling her things would get better. Everyone tried to cheer her up, but she found nothing uplifting in anything anyone said. Samantha's mother even made her an appointment with a psychiatrist, Dr. Joanne Podesta, through the Employee Assistance Program at work, which she kept simply to avoid an unnecessary lecture. She even went for a second visit for lack of anything better to do.

Some of what the doctor said actually made sense. Samantha even decided to take the counselor's advice and start living her life again. The suggestion was to begin slowly. Treat herself to dinner out, nothing fancy, someplace she really liked, but her ex did not. Surprisingly, it made a lot of sense; except that she didn't think she was quite ready to sit through an entire meal alone and have people stare pitifully at her. She believed a safer start would be a drink—or two—in a dark lounge.

And so, she did.

Now, at just over 30 years old, Samantha was still a very attractive woman: tall, lithe, blonde, fair-sized breasts, shapely legs. What she did not anticipate was men actually attempting to hit on her, and then with cheesy, pathetic lines. At first, it was uplifting, knowing that men still found her desirable. But after fending off two or three, it became tedious.

Considering the advisability of having a second drink, Samantha looked around and spotted a woman seemingly her own age who was elegant-looking as well as attractive. She was seated at the bar, alone. An idea quickly formed and Samantha moved from her table. Stopping at the empty stool next to the woman, Samantha asked, "Is this seat taken?"

Seemingly lost in thought, the woman turned. Upon seeing Samantha, she smiled warmly and said, "Please."

Pulling the stool out, Samantha caught the bartender's attention and ordered another glass of white wine as she hefted herself onto the seat.

"Thanks," the woman offered. "I think you might have saved me."

With a frown of incomprehension, Samantha said, "I'm sorry. I don't follow."

"I've been hit on by a number of assholes tonight. Maybe if they don't think I'm by myself, they'll leave me alone."

"That's exactly my motive," Samantha admitted with a smirk.

With a chuckle, the woman asked, "How many for you?"

Samantha shrugged. "Didn't bother to count. But after the second, it was way too many."

"I agree. By the way, I'm Wendy." She held out her hand.

"Samantha." She didn't think surnames were necessary yet.

"So, what's your story, Sam?"

"Please, I prefer Samantha."

"Ah. Sorry. So, you're an attractive woman in a bar alone not looking to be picked up; I'm guessing you're here to drown your sorrows because of a recent break-up."

"You're mostly correct," Samantha said with a wave of her hand. "But I'm not drowning sorrow, I'm starting over."

"By coming to a singles bar?"

"Well, I didn't realize that's what it was when I came here. It was just an alternative to staying home alone on a Friday night."

"So, it

was

a break-up?"

"Divorce," Samantha nodded.

"Men!"

"Yeah. So, what about you?"

Wendy didn't answer right away. After several seconds, she said, "I was supposed to be meeting someone, but I guess I've been stood up." She ordered them another round.

"Oh, no, no more for me," Samantha said with a sweep of her hand. "This is more than my limit."

"What the hell else do you have to do?"

Samantha shrugged. "Well, maybe

one

more."

"So, tell me about your divorce."

As she finished her second glass of wine, which as she indicated was more than she was accustomed to, Samantha became loose-lipped. She was certain she revealed more than she should have and more than Wendy probably wanted to hear. But aside from her shrink, she hadn't talked much to anyone. It was as though the wine had opened the verbal flood gates. She hadn't realized she'd had this need to talk; and then with a total stranger. She hadn't talked this much to her doctor. Maybe that was why. No one here would judge her, or if so, no one who would matter.

"What a

rat!"

Wendy remarked when Samantha finished.

"Yeah. Who knew?"

Just then, two men, thinking they were cool, approached offering to buy the women drinks. Their pick-up lines were no better than any of their predecessors and even less original. When the ladies declined, the men persisted.

Finally, in exasperation, and much to Samantha's surprise, Wendy put her arm around the other woman, pulled her closer, and gave her a hard kiss on the lips. "Does it look like we're interested? Now, leave us alone."

Clearly not expecting that, one of the guys said, "Whatever," and he and his friend backed away.

Still somewhat stunned, Samantha's expression demanded explanation.

"It always works," Wendy said simply.

Samantha nodded hesitantly with a forced smile. Perhaps this was not such a good idea to start over. Then she saw other guys who had been eying the two women seem to lose interest. Wendy obviously knew a trick or two. Samantha relaxed a bit.

"I suddenly find this place has lost its appeal," Wendy said. "I know another place not far from here that is a little quieter."

"I don't know," Samantha grimaced. "I think I've had enough excitement for one night."

With a big grin, Wendy said, "What the hell else do we have to do?" As she said this, she was leading Samantha out of the lounge.

Like a little lost lamb, the divorcee followed. There was something she liked about Wendy, but she wasn't sure what. The woman hadn't really talked much about herself. However, as they walked, it occurred to her that she was accompanying a woman she knew little about, and for all she knew, Wendy could be leading her into some adverse situation. Samantha halted. "No offense, Wendy, but I think I'm going to head on home."

"Oh, come on. I hate drinking alone."

"Well, that's another thing. I don't want any more to drink. And to be absolutely truthful, I don't really know you."

Wendy offered a big, warm smile. "Now, I can't argue with that." She reached into her purse, pulled out an ID card and held it out for Samantha to see. "

Doctor

Wendy Robinson, at your service. I work at the downtown medical center just a few blocks from where we were."

"I'm familiar with it," Samantha acknowledged. "I'm Deputy Director of Human Resources for Ford Enterprises."

"Yes, I know. I glimpsed your ID in your purse," Wendy admitted. "And just to make you aware, I know Peter Ford, I know the kind of people he hires, and I wouldn't be here with you otherwise."

Samantha giggled. "I'm sorry. I guess I've become somewhat distrustful since my divorce."

"No need to apologize. We girls have to be careful. All kinds of crazy people out there."

"Is that your professional opinion?" Samantha quipped. "Are you a psychiatrist?"

"Heavens, no," Wendy answered as she started walking again with Samantha mindlessly following. "Internal Medicine. Nothing fancy."

"You must be fresh out of med school."

"For a couple of years."

"I can't imagine going to school for that long."

"It

is

tough, but— Aw,

hell

."

"What?"

Wendy pointed to their destination. "It's closed for a private party."

"I should have asked where we were going," Samantha said. "I knew that. I actually came here first. I could have saved us a walk. Sorry."

"That's okay. We'll just find someplace else."

"Seriously, Wendy. I

really

don't want any more alcohol."

"How about coffee? I know a

really

good place. And we don't have to worry about it being open."

"Oh? Where is that?" Samantha thought to ask this time.

"

My

place." Wendy started to lead her off.

But Samantha didn't blindly follow this time. "I don't know about that."

"I trust you, Samantha. I wouldn't have made the offer if I didn't. In my profession, I'm a good judge of people. But this time, I'm not going to talk you into it. You're more than welcome, if you want to come. If you don't, I understand."

But in Samantha's position in Human Resources, she also had to be a good judge of people, and right now, she was willing to take a chance on Wendy. She was the first person in months that Samantha really felt comfortable with.

Wendy was obviously a downtown girl: she worked for a medical clinic there, frequented bars and restaurants there, and lived halfway up an impressive high-rise condominium building there. Even more impressive was her luxury two-bedroom unit. It forced Samantha to remark, "Wow, you must come from a wealthy family. Most doctors two years out of med school are deep in debt from student loans."

Looking somewhat guilty, Wendy merely nodded. "They were able to help out," she added. "I have one of those coffee makers with individual pods, so come choose your flavor," she said to quickly change the subject.

Brewed cups of java in their hands, Wendy led Samantha into her living area where they took seats on the sofa. The doctor sat very close to her guest, rendering the latter ill-at-ease. "Well, I've opened up to you," Samantha pointed out, "what's your story?"

Wendy shrugged. "Nothing special. Always wanted to be a doctor. Had the IQ. Fortunately, my parents had the money. Here I am."

"Sounds like everything went your way. You're lucky."

Wendy detected the sadness in her voice. "I take it yours was more difficult."

"Well, it wasn't as fruitful as it sounds yours was, but other than that, it was fine until about a year ago."

"Your fateful anniversary?"

Samantha nodded.

Wendy lifted her coffee cup. "Well, then, here's to your new life. Wish we had something stronger to toast with." She rubbed Samantha's back in a gesture of support and comfort.

But Samantha found the action more than casual and a little unsettling; particularly since Wendy was slow to remove her arm from around her. Samantha squirmed a bit and the doctor slowly withdrew her arm.

"Sorry," Wendy offered, "it's part of my job to touch people."

That put Samantha more at ease. Of course, she thought, a doctor touches people. "No,

I'm

sorry. I thought . . . well . . . never mind."

"You thought what?"

"Nothing. It was foolish. Forget it," Samantha nervously said. "As I said before, I'm all messed up from my divorce."

"Still, I'd like to know what you thought," Wendy persisted. "It helps to know someone's perception of something I do."

"It's embarrassing. It's stupid."

"Please?"

With a deep sigh and a shrug, Samantha said, "I thought maybe . . . you were . . . trying to" —she covered her face with her hand— "this is embarrassing. I'm just not thinking clearly."

"You thought I was trying to?"

Hesitantly, Samantha mumbled, "Seduce me."

With a nod, Wendy casually asked, "What if I was?"

Samantha tried to control the shock she felt. "Were you?

Are

you?"

"What if I was?" Wendy repeated.

"I think it's time for me to go," Samantha said, rising. "Thank you for the coffee. It was nice meeting you."

"

Samantha

, we're just

talking

. Please sit down and finish your coffee. We can change the subject. What would you like to talk about?"

"Just give me a straight answer, please."

"Okay.

Yes

, I was trying to seduce you."

"

I'm not

a lesbian. Are

you?"

"I don't like labels," Wendy informed her. "I don't even like my patients to call me doctor. I

do

like women."

"And you thought I was easy pickings?"

"

You

sat next to me." Wendy's tone was calm and not argumentative. "You seemed to need a friend. Yes, I found you attractive. Quite often, women who were tossed aside by a man, as you were, seek the affection of another woman. I took a chance that you were."

"I wasn't."

"Are you sure?" Wendy questioned.

"What do you mean?"

"You're looking for

some

thing, Samantha," Wendy diagnosed. "I'm not even sure

you

know what it is. You need to let someone in. You need a friend." She patted the seat beside her.

A confused Samantha dropped to her seat again.

Wendy lovingly put her arm around her. "I'm not trying to take advantage of you. I

don't

want

to take advantage of you. I

want

to be your friend, and maybe even something more. Have you ever considered sex with a woman?"

With a frown of something bordering on distaste, Samantha said, "I've

never

entertained such a thought."

"So, think about it for a minute."

"Well, I mean, I might have seen a movie or two." Then she quickly added. "I don't usually watch pornography."

Lightly resting her hand on Samantha's exposed knee, Wendy asked, "What did you think about it?"

Glancing down uncomfortably at the doctor's hand, Samantha nervously answered, "I guess it was . . . I don't know . . .

interesting

."

Wendy doubled up her hands on Samantha's knee. She leaned over and gave the other woman a brief, tender kiss on her cheek, but allowed her lips to linger for a moment. "You're really very beautiful," Wendy whispered sultrily. "I can't believe a man let you go."

Samantha's eyes widened.

Wendy pulled back in time to see.

Fanning herself with her hand, Samantha said, "I'm sorry. I'm a little flustered."

"You don't agree? No one has been telling you how incredible you are?" Wendy allowed her hand to gently travel up and down Samantha's leg a few inches.

"I can't remember when someone has touched my leg like that."

"That's sad." Wendy gave her a short kiss on her lips.

Samantha instinctively kissed back, albeit frowning.

"Just let yourself go," Wendy whispered. "Free yourself to explore. Experiment with your feelings." Her kiss was longer this time.

Samantha was less resistant. She actually had heard elsewhere Wendy's claim that, after being dumped by a man, women sometimes turned to other women. And the kiss

was

surprisingly nice. And she hadn't felt such affection in a long, long time. What the hell was she thinking?

But still, there was something about Wendy that she liked. And so lost in thought about this was she, that when Wendy swooped in for a third more impassioned joining of the lips, Samantha now kissed back. She also ignored the doctor's more bold exploration of her leg and thigh, although she didn't attempt to go under her skirt. But Samantha did have to pull back when Wendy touched her breasts, even though it was over her dress. "Sorry. I'm a little . . . a little . . ." She took a deep breath.

Merely smiling, Wendy kissed harder, forcing her tongue into Samantha's mouth.

Mindful that she'd had no romantic attention from anyone, let alone sexual, in over a year, Samantha was succumbing to the affections of this woman. She allowed her tongue to taste Wendy's with trepidation. She also remembered how much she used to enjoy kissing. And this woman's was soft and tender, not rough and chewy like her ex used to do it. She also ignored the hands exploring her body, but was not immune to the arousal she was feeling, an emotion she hadn't been certain she would ever experience again.

However, just as she was adjusting to this euphoria, even beginning to enjoy it, Wendy stopped abruptly and stood. She took Samantha's hand and tugged. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Samantha nervously asked, though she felt she knew.

"A place you've never been to before and you're going to wonder why you never have."

As vague as that was, Samantha, now in such a mixed up state of mind, wondering what she was doing, what she was letting this woman do,

why

she was letting this woman do it, and yet intrigued enough not to halt it, allowed herself to be dragged into a bedroom. "

Whoaaaaa

. I don't know about this."

Wendy sat on the bed and tapped a spot beside her. "Come on."

Holding out her other hand, Samantha said, "I'm trembling I'm so nervous. What am I doing?"

"Come on. Just a little pillow talk. Kick your shoes off and relax." Wendy did as she told Samantha, letting her shoes drop to the floor. She fluffed up some pillows for Samantha, who finally complied on both counts. When they were both seated and reclining against the pillows, the doctor asked, "Comfortable?"

Samantha merely nodded. "I'm just a little nervous."

Wendy squirmed closer and twisted slightly toward her new bed partner. She put her hand on Samantha's thigh and reassured, "Nothing to be nervous about." But when she reached up and brushed her palm along Samantha's shoulder and down to her breast, Samantha casually moved it away. "Trust me."

"I'm trying. But this is zero to 60."

Smiling warmly, Wendy again placed her hand on Samantha's chest above her breast.

Samantha raised her arm to stop Wendy, but just as quickly retreated.

However, when the doctor tried to touch between Samantha's legs, she once again moved Wendy's hand away. Trying a different tack, the physician took Samantha's hand and put in on her leg.

The soft skin of Wendy's thigh was nice, so Samantha did not draw back, and in fact, she even tried tentative rubbing.

With Samantha's mind now occupied, Wendy kissed the other woman's face tenderly. And when their lips finally came together, Samantha did not prevent Wendy's persistence to touch her breasts. Once again, Samantha found herself enjoying the kiss, and that in turn, allowed her to find pleasure in having her breasts fondled. And also as before, just as she was relaxing to this new experience, Wendy slowly pulled back and moved from reclining to sitting on her legs. She watched curiously as the doctor reached behind her. "What are you

doing

?"

"Unzipping your dress. It's okay. Trust me." She did manage to slide Samantha's zipper down to her waist.

Not sure she was ready for this, Samantha got up on her knees with Wendy following suit. But the movement caused Samantha's dress to fall off of her shoulders and gather down around her waist. Wendy quickly removed her own dress and bra. An astonished Samantha could only stare—in awe?—at the doctor's toned body and rounded breasts. In all of her adult life, she had never been alone with a mostly naked woman. Although, with the thong Wendy wore, she might as well be completely nude.