What you see is not what is there. What is there is something else. – Unknown
Part One. Valerie
Frankie is in one of her preoccupied moods. Valerie concludes that as she lies with her head in Frankie's lap as Frankie studies some papers brought home in her briefcase. It's ten o'clock in the evening and the TV tube is now showing the evening news with the sound off. Valerie looks at the flashing pictures on the tube and she amuses herself attempting to discover what the people are saying. Of course it makes no difference whether you have the sound on or off, whatever the people are saying is ridiculous anyway.
With a sigh, Valerie slips her hand into Frankie's lap. Her fingertips tease the seam of Frankie's jeans. But nothing happens. She might as well be touching a stone statue for all the response she gets. Frankie's mind seems totally occupied with her paperwork, no evidence at all that Frankie is aware of Valerie's hand. No evidence before the bar, Valerie thinks. She feels both amusement and annoyance. Frankie is an attorney and she's always serious about her vocation. She's a tall studious looking woman with a distinctive dyke haircut and wire-rimmed eyeglasses. Despite her serious appearance, Frankie's fine-boned face gives her a special beauty and Valerie adores her.
Frankie has clear ivory skin and nipples like hard raspberries. Valerie adores serious women with fine faces and steady eyes. They've been lovers for two years and living together almost since the beginning. Valerie continues tickling the seam of Frankie's jeans, but Frankie remains apparently oblivious to it. Is the romance over? The idea the romance could be over frightens Valerie. She's twenty-five, a brunette with a pouting mouth she likes to paint a bright red, a slender but curvy body that drives the butches wild. She knows all about it. She can see the look in their eyes in the bars when they give her the once-over, that hungry dyke look that always makes her shiver. A lover once told her what it is. The contrast. A slender femme with full breasts can make certain butches crazy.
But Valerie thinks it has to be more than that because she has known women who were wild over her ass. Anyway, it's nice to be pretty and have a good body. She likes the attention. But of course it isn't the most important thing in the world. What is really important is a permanent relationship, a home, mutual giving. What is really important is peace of mind. The trouble is that even after living with Frankie two years not a day passes when Valerie isn't needy, as needy as a bitch in heat, pussy- dripping needy. If not every day, then every other day. Without fail. She expected Frankie to take care of that part of her life. Frankie takes care of her financially, but that isn't enough for Valerie.
It's fine that Frankie earns enough in her law practice to give them an easy life, but Valerie thinks Frankie ought to have more consideration for the physical side. Is that asking for too much? Isn't it ridiculous to be lying here tickling Frankie's crotch without any response from Frankie? Valerie watches the images on the television tube. A woman in a red bandanna now has her mouth going, talking without stopping, saying nothing about who knows what. All I want is affection, Valerie thinks. No, it's more than that. If all she wants is affection she'll buy a toy poodle. What she wants is good sex, the same marvelous hot sex she knows other women have. She wants Frankie to make her shake and moan until her bones are rattled. How can a woman have peace of mind without sexual fulfillment? No, it isn't possible.
When she's like this she's always so incredibly restless, no peace of mind at all. No peace of mind, Valerie thinks. With Frankie these days she never has it. She tries, though. She has no problem with Frankie when Frankie is interested. The problem is it never happens often enough, at least not enough to keep the demons out of Valerie's mind and her pussy happy. Frankie cares a great deal about her law practice, but she seems to care very little about the needy state of Valerie's poor little muffin. Twice a week on Wednesdays and Saturdays is just not enough to keep Valerie happy, to give her that look of happiness and completion that she sees on the faces of some of her friends. She thinks Frankie ought to take care of her needs. This way it's like some dead het marriage. Dead dyke marriage like a dead het marriage.
Serves you right, Valerie thinks, serves you right for settling down. She ought to be out there getting worked over by a different woman every night. She ought to be bouncing on beds with sweat on her forehead.
She tickles Frankie's crotch again, determined to get Frankie interested in something beside her paperwork. She can feel the bulge of Frankie's sex right through the fabric of Frankie's jeans. But no heat in there. She's had enough experience with Frankie to know from the feel of her crotch what state Frankie is in. At the moment, Frankie is far away somewhere, much too far away to be interested in anything sexual. Valerie tells herself maybe she ought to wait for another time, when suddenly Frankie moves the papers away from her face and she looks down at Valerie's hand.
"What's going on?" Frankie says. "Is today Wednesday?"
Valerie groans. "It's Tuesday. It's been Tuesday all day. You don't mind if I just lie here, do you? If it bothers you I'll stop." And then Valerie adds with a sarcastic smirk: "I wouldn't want to interfere with your work."
In a calm voice, Frankie says: "It's my work that supports us."
In a moment Frankie returns the papers to the front of her face. Valerie now assumes she has permission to continue doing what she's been doing, but she feels foolish about it. Here she is making a blatant effort to get Frankie interested in her, and all Frankie cares about is her damn paperwork. Determined not to give up, Valerie now rolls over to face Frankie's crotch.
Frankie groans. "Val, honey..."
"Just keep doing what you're doing. Pay no attention to me."
"That's hardly possible."
