She was not merely afraid of her, she was terrified. She saw her the first time when one night a group of them went to a popular bar and restaurant called Reilly's to celebrate someone's promotion. They had a new hostess, a tall curvy brunette about thirty-five with large breasts and a willowy shape. She was beautiful. Trey had her eyes on the brunette's ass nearly constantly, because their table was right behind the small reservation counter and she sat facing it, looking at the back of whoever was standing there to welcome the customers as they walked in.
The brunette had a drawl of some kind, Texas, Trey guessed, and she could hear the woman's voice and look at her and let wild fantasies float through her head as she sat with her friends. Only once did their eyes ever meet, the eyes of the hostess and Trey's, and nothing at all was in the woman's look except the pleasant disinterest that went with her job. Of course she knew Trey was a dyke. They were four dykes in the restaurant, and the brunette was too experienced not to notice what they were, especially since Reilly's was in a part of town where dykes were as common as steak sauce in a steak house. The hostess did look at them as a group several times, but Trey detected no sign of any special interest.
So why did Trey go back alone the next night and sit at the bar? Dumb yearning, Trey supposed. Trey enjoyed merely looking at the woman. At the end of that first night she had masturbated thinking about the brunette, brought herself off again and again thinking about what might be under that dress and what it might be like to hold that woman in her arms. When Trey had fantasies like that about a woman, the woman became fixed in her consciousness in some way, fixed so that Trey thought about her a long time afterward. Trey went back to Reilly's out of dumb yearning, not expecting anything, just to look at the woman and enjoy herself.
The brunette hardly noticed Trey the second night, but she did notice Trey the third night, and on the fourth night, after Trey had been sitting at the bar almost an hour, the woman casually walked over to Trey, smiled at her a long moment without saying anything, and then whispered:
"You're cruising me, aren't you?"
Trey stammered. "Cruising you?"
"You've been here three or four nights in a row and you're always looking at me."
Trey felt destroyed. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize it."
But instead of making some smartass comment, or accepting the apology and walking off, the brunette said: "You want to come back at eleven, honey? I'll be through then and you can take me for coffee somewhere."
Trey had to ask, because it was her policy to always ask first. "Are you gay?"
The brunette raised an eyebrow and smiled at Trey, more a smirk than a smile. "Try me, honey."