The lakeside restaurant has a good reputation for its wine cellar, its original food creations, its spectacular view, its conviviality.
*****
'It's been over a year. She knows everything about me. There's nothing to worry about.' Aida tells herself. 'I'm only meeting a friend, a good friend... My therapist says I should stop spinning everything and look at life squarely. So... All right! I hope we can be more. So much more.'
She sits in her car, staring at the entrance, watching couples walk in and out, hand in hand, arms around waists, wondering if choosing a gay friendly place was the right thing to do for their first meeting.
'What if she's shy about being a lesbian?' She cringes at the thought. 'What if she never shows up? What if she lied in all those emails?'
Her youth has been long years of living in fear that her brother or father would discover she was gay, a sin punishable by stoning in her Muslim country. She worked hard at getting a medical degree she could parley into immigration to the United States where her difference is accepted... in some parts of the country at least.
Unconsciously, she rubs her thighs together as she grips the steering wheel, white-knuckled. She feels the heat rise and closes her eyes tightly, visualizing the last picture Hope sent her. She moans softly at the mental construct she built of the body under the severe business suit.
She may be a tough VP of Project Management, but the woman couldn't disguise the tender look in her eyes as she posed for Aida.
*****
Since they made the date, a week earlier, Hope has gone through a plethora of emotions, most of which are foreign to her make-up.
She is assertive, bossy even. She sets goals for herself and nothing stands in her way for long. She knows who she is, what she wants... Yet she is scared silly of meeting this woman who she feels, in her heart of hearts, is The One.
It took months of emails before Aida dared confess to having feelings for women. Even more for her to admit to being a virgin, one eager to change that status, but waiting for the right woman to give herself to.
They laughed together as she recounted her forays into the lesbian culture, her timid ventures in gay bars. Her love of dancing opened doors to friendships, but she never found Ms. Right.
Fearing she would scare her friend away, Hope never revealed her own special place in the lifestyle, though she confessed to being a lesbian at the onset. She never hid from who she was in her life and she certainly didn't with Aida. It paid off big time. They've become the very best of friends. She's her only true friend, if truth be told.
Hope drives past the restaurant over and over. She has to make her mind up before someone calls the cops.
In the last week, she has gone through her entire wardrobe, trying to decide on how to present herself to the woman who haunted her dreams for so long. Both of her wardrobes, in fact.
That morning, she took a leisurely scented bath, spent an hour applying the perfect make-up... then broke down crying.
She returned to the bathroom, took a hot shower, scrubbing all traces of the fake persona she created to make her place in the business jungle.
Her decision made, she went to the drawer holding her 'real' clothes.
*****
Still panting from the orgasm she has just given herself practically with the sole power of the fantasy about the body Hope kept so carefully hidden under tailored clothes, Aida is startled when a motorcycle pulls in, not ten feet from her car. The others already parked there look like toys beside it. A classic chopper such as she's seen in movies, it exudes power. It sure is loud.
The driver, in black leather from head to toe, sits back after cutting off the engine. He takes off his black military-looking helmet, runs his hands in his short-cropped sandy blonde hair and stretches the kinks of the road away.
He gets up to store his headgear in a saddlebag, opens his jacket and looks around.
Aida gasps out loud, bringing the... woman's attention in her direction, but she doesn't see her so she can take in the black muscle tank showing a red sports bra, the form-fitted black leather pants. The two inch heeled biker boots must make her at least six foot tall. But what really gets her blood boiling are the familiar features, emphasized by the absence of the wavy golden locks she has only seen once out of a severe bun.
The woman takes off her jacket, revealing well-muscled arms to go with the wide shoulders and buff torso. The strong thighs should have been an indication by themselves.
A fresh flow of cream makes itself known. She's glad she decided to wear a light cotton white flowing skirt with a flower pattern embroidered in white thread to go with her brown understated paisley pattern top. The crochet work under the bust accents her C-cups which she now wishes she had covered with a bra. Her large nipples stand out visibly, not the first impression she was looking for. The second one, well...
The biker casually flips her jacket over her shoulder. As soon as the restaurant door closes behind her, Aida is running toward it, her mind made up. As if there had been any other option once the woman turned in her direction.
*****
Her confidence restored once she decided to be herself, Hope drives in the parking lot without hesitation... eventually.
She kicks out the stand and sits back for a moment, savoring the memory of the ride to the restaurant. She loves to hit the road on her powerful hog. As she brushes her crewcut with her fingers, sweat flies from the bristles. Opening her coat, she lets the light breeze dry her body. The sun has sure beat down on her that afternoon.
A familiar noise pulls her attention toward the parking, though nothing catches her eye.
She takes off her jacket and pulls her sweat-soaked top from her back. With a last smile at the blazing sun, she walks to the restaurant.
Jackie is at the hostess stand, as usual. They smile at each other. Years earlier, they had a brief fling and stayed friends after coming to the mutual conclusion that, aside from a fantastic sexual connection, they had little in common.
"Hey, Hope. How are things?"
"Fine, Jayjay. How's business?"
"Half full, but it's still early. As you expected. It's your favorite time to come over, after all."
"You know it. I made a reservation earlier this week. I'm waiting for someone."
"I see your packing for action, babe. Does she know...?"
"I'm with her."
A petite woman presses herself against Hope's arm, slipping a soft hand in her callused one, interlacing their fingers. The top of her head barely reaches Hope's shoulder so she has no choice but to look down... into burning dark eyes. If she happens to notice a magnificent pair of breasts, she blames the neckline open to the base of those firm mounds.
"Hello, Aida. You're right on time. Jackie here has a table for us on the terrace overlooking the water. Or would you prefer to stay inside where it's cooler?"
"Remember my country of origin?" Her giggle sends shivers down Hope's spine. "I can stand the heat if you can."
The tall woman looks at her curiously, wondering if she realizes what she just said. She knows Aida sometimes has trouble with American colloquialisms.
Jackie clears her throat politely, looking at the two women, so different from each other, yet...
"We'll take the heat, then. Lead the way, Jayjay."
She doesn't miss Aida's raised eyebrow at her use of a familiar nickname. The woman will have to get used to her ways if there is to be any future for them.
At the table, she reaches before Jackie to pull Aida's chair and push it behind her knees when she sits. The gentlewomanly thing to do would have been to sit across the table, but she wants to enjoy the view too, so she takes the chair at ninety degrees.
She is pleasantly surprised when Aida gets back up and gestures at her to follow suit. Turning the table forty-five degrees, she sits again.
"This way we both will enjoy the scenery." Her tinkling laugh reaches Hope's core.
"Thank you. It's the reason I eat here so often. One of the reasons." She laughs too. "If you feel adventurous, you should try the chef's suggestions. He experiments on us with new ones every week."
"I'm feeling very adventurous today. I thought I would be eating with a business tycoon and I find myself sitting beside a biker. I expected to be grossly underdressed for the sophisticated high-power woman, but I wanted her to see the real me." She reaches to take Hope's hand. "Did we have the same idea?"
"We did." Hope squeezes her fingers. "I was all decked up in my business disguise when I decided that you deserved to know the truth about me. This fancy restaurant with its beautiful view is not where I'm most comfortable. Don't get me wrong, I love the great food and I'm friends with the owner, but I'd be just as happy at a local diner eating the plate of the day."
"I could see that. You watched the hostess' bottom while we followed her. Don't bristle, dear. I did the same thing. It is a thing of beauty."
"And she knows it too. She doesn't sashay that way for every client. We were together for a short time when we were younger and still searching for who we were. It didn't last."
"You're still friends? How do you say it? Friends with benefits?"
"You're a pistol, you know? I'm beginning to think that your difficulties with our idioms is a coy ploy. To answer your question, as much as we had great sex together, that's all we had and I don't want to muddy the waters of a good friendship with false emotions solely based on mutual satisfaction. As much as I disliked her as a girlfriend, I like her as a friend."
Reaching to cup Hope's cheek, Aida brings her close to kiss the other one.
"You're a good woman, Hope. But I knew that. I've known it for a long time." Aida says quietly as she rests her head against Hope's chest. "Do you want to blow this joint and hit the road?"
