Sandra had a fear that somehow everyone she knew would learn about her, that she would suddenly find herself alone on a stage with a spotlight on her, the audience consisting of friends, family, acquaintances, all staring at her and whispering about her, even smirking at her, since she knew people who would smirk with contempt if they learned she was a lesbian.
Was she a lesbian? She didn't know. A week ago she'd had her first experience with a woman and she was still too confused about it to understand what it meant. All she knew was that she'd enjoyed it, enjoyed it more than anything that had ever happed between her and her husband of twenty years, who had turned out to be so dull and inconsequential she thought every moment they were together a total waste of time.
She had certainly enjoyed sex with Marty, a woman she had met only recently, a woman she hardly knew, but who had swept Sandra off her feet with an intense seduction that had Sandra undressed in Marty's apartment before Sandra fully realized what was happening. Bingo. A few glasses of wine, a few surprising kisses, the clothes are off and she's in bed with another woman. What she never expected was that she would like it so much. And she hadn't just liked it, she had truly adored it.
So was she a dyke? She hated that word. Maybe Marty was a dyke, but not her. Marty, after all, had taken the lead and done everything. Sandra hadn't done much except lie back and let Marty make love to her, suck her down there until Sandra flew to the moon and back several times, suck her so well Sandra's eyes were glazed by the time she went home.
And now she was afraid. She had agreed to see Marty again this very evening, but as she dressed for the date she felt a sudden fear in her chest. What would happen if the people she knew found out? What would happen if her husband found out? He'd probably want a divorce, but she couldn't care less about that, she was now earning enough selling real estate to be rid of him. But if Bert found out, he would certainly tell everyone he knew, which meant nearly everyone she knew, including everyone in his family and her family. She felt she would pass out even thinking about it. But she couldn't pass out now, she had to get her makeup on, had to finish dressing.
Dressing for a lover. Sexy underthings, high heels, a flashy little dress. She had told Bert she was going to dinner with another woman in real estate, someone in upscale real estate who could be useful to her. A total lie, of course, but Bert was too stupid to know the difference, and anyway this was Monday and Bert would have his eyes glued to the television screen and twenty-two Neanderthals running around on a football field.
As she finished painting her lips, Sandra wondered if Marty would like her underwear. Then she told herself that if she kept thinking about Marty like that, she'd have soaked panties before she ever left the house.
Twenty minutes later she said goodbye to Bert, told him she hoped he'd enjoy his football evening, and said he shouldn't worry at all if she was late getting back. "This woman and I will probably have a lot to talk about," Sandra said. She waved at Bert and hurried out the front door to the taxi now waiting for her at the curb.
* * *
She arrived a few minutes early at the restaurant where she'd agreed to meet Marty. She thought of having a drink at the bar, but she hated sitting alone at a bar, so instead she sat on of the chairs near the restaurant entrance. Marty arrived just as Sandra was about to look at her watch, which made Sandra happy because it meant Marty was considerate enough to be punctual.
Sandra thought Marty was a beauty. Marty was six years younger, tall, lean, cropped reddish brown hair that gave her a boyish look, and a superb attractive face. It was Marty's beauty that had made it so easy for Sandra to be seduced. How could she not be dazzled by this lovely woman, so confident in the way she moved and talked and looked? And now they were together again and Sandra was just as dazzled as she'd been the first time. Nothing existed for her except the promise of this evening with Marty.
After greeting each other warmly, Marty kissing Sandra's cheek, they were led to a quiet settee and table in a dimly lit corner of the restaurant.
"Perfect," Marty said. "We can sit next to each other and whisper about everyone around us." She gestured to Sandra to slide onto the curved settee first, and then she followed to sit on Sandra's left, sliding in until they sat close enough to each other to have their knees touch if one or the other moved.
Sandra felt a keen excitement. This was a date, no doubt about that, and she anticipated a sizzling evening.
They ordered their dinners and a bottle of white wine, and after the waiter left, Marty said, "I'm glad you came earlier than I did. I had the pleasure of walking in and seeing you there waiting for me. You look stunning, you know. You're special."
Sandra felt herself blushing. She thought how extraordinary it was to be with another woman on a date like this, to know that after the dinner they would go to Marty's apartment and almost certainly make love. Thinking about that made Sandra quiver with excitement.
They sat so close, that when one turned to say something to the other they could easily kiss. Sandra could smell Marty's scent and it made her dizzy with a yearning to actually kiss Marty's lips and taste her lipstick.
She held herself back. You're going off the deep end, Sandra thought. She hadn't realized how hungry she was for physical contact with this woman. Or maybe she had realized it and had suppressed it. Whatever it might be, here she was sitting beside Marty and wetting her pants before they even had dinner. Then she wondered how it would go. She certainly couldn't take the lead, it had to be Marty. Marty had taken the lead last time and that had to happen again.
"I love your hair," Marty said in a low voice.
"My hair?"
"Yes, your hair. It looks wonderful curled around your face like that." Marty chuckled. "You know, the first time I saw you I thought you were too pretty to be approachable and that you'd be a self-centered bitch I could never get to know. How wrong I was!" She laughed again, then leaned over and whispered in Sandra's ear. "You're sweet. You really turn me on. YOu enjoyed the time we had last week, didn't you? Yes you did, I could tell. I'm thinking about it now and it's making me hot."
Sandra blushed, glancing around at the other tables to see if anyone was looking at them. Then she gazed at Marty. The younger woman wore a white silk blouse and black jeans. Sandra thought Marty looked wonderfully sexy. She wondered how long she could sit beside Marty without revealing how eager she was. This restaurant seemed so romantic. So many years had passed since she'd had a romantic evening like this. She and Marty were so different; she had an oval face, while Marty had an angular face with high cheekbones. She thought Marty would look elegant wearing anything, any possible style. Wasn't that the test of true beauty? Sandra fidgeted on her seat, hoping the dinner would pass quickly.
Suddenly, after the main course arrived and the waiter was gone, Sandra felt Marty's hand on her left thigh. She froze, nervous that someone might see them. She felt Marty's fingers dig into her thigh. Then Marty moved her hand toward Sandra's knee, slid the hem of her skirt back and stroked her stocking.
"What are you wearing?" Marty whispered. "Pantyhose?"
"Stockings."
"Oh, that's hot. I love stockings. I love your legs."
Sandra was thankful when Marty finally pulled her hand away. Sandra was now certain her panties were soaked. How could they not be? She hadn't been so excited in ages.
Marty kept whispering to Sandra, flirting with her, saying amusing things to make Sandra laugh. Sandra felt an intense yearning that made her tremble.
When they were finished eating, Sandra almost cried out when she felt Marty's hand slide under her upper left arm to touch the side of her breast.
